Chapter 6: Blood on the Office Floor

The next day, I barely had time to process before chaos broke out. My assistant pounded on my door, eyes wide with panic. “Sebastian’s here. He’s… kind of losing it.”

Sebastian flew back overnight and nearly broke down my office door.

He must’ve caught the red-eye, because he looked exhausted. Wild-eyed, and desperate. I’d never seen him like this before.

He’d never been talkative. Normally, I’d say ten sentences and he’d answer with one.

But today, he was a mess. His voice cracked, his hands shook. He sounded like someone who’d lost everything.

Now, he was shouting outside my door—voice raw, practically begging:

“Vivi, what did you mean by that call last night?”

I could hear the panic in his voice, muffled by the thick oak door. My coworkers peeked out of their offices, whispering behind their hands.

“Our heart line isn’t shallow—come out and see for yourself, please, just come out?”

He sounded almost unhinged. I wondered if he even knew how ridiculous he sounded.

“Vivian Langley, you’re not allowed to break up with me…”

His voice broke on my name. For a second, I almost opened the door. Almost.

Maybe it was just my imagination, but that last line sounded like he was about to cry.

I pressed my hand to my chest, trying to steady my breathing. My heart was racing, my thoughts spinning. I’d never seen him cry before—not even when he lost everything.

The livestream comments floated by immediately:

[The villain’s acting is top-notch—he can even cry for the sake of the ticket!]

I let out a bitter laugh.

I almost wanted to applaud. If this was a show, he deserved an Emmy.

I got up. Ready to call security to throw him out. But when I opened the door, I was stunned.

The air in the hallway felt charged, like a thunderstorm about to break. When I saw the blood, my heart stopped.

The floor was splattered with bright red blood.

It was everywhere—smeared across the tiles, dripping down his wrist. For a second, I thought I was dreaming.

Sebastian let the blade drop, held out his torn, bloody palm, and forced a smile.

He looked like a kid showing off a scraped knee, except this was so much worse. The smile was shaky, desperate. I felt a wave of nausea.

“Vivi, look, isn’t our heart line deep now?”

He was trying to make a joke, but his voice cracked halfway through. My stomach twisted.

“Let’s not break up… please, don’t break up with me.”

The words hung in the air, raw and pleading. I didn’t know what to say.

I froze, feeling a lump in my throat.

My hands shook. I wanted to help him. I wanted to make it all stop. But I couldn’t move.

Just as I reached for him to take him to the hospital, the livestream comments chimed in again:

[The villain would die for the heroine with just a word.]

[So that’s why the heroine went to see him this morning—for intel, to help him plan!]

[Wasn’t it the same last month? The moment the heroine asked, he agreed to date the side character, even forced himself to sleep with her…]

[Sorry, male lead, but the villain’s love is so deep, I have to ship him and the heroine for a minute!]

My heart turned cold.

It was like being doused with ice water. Suddenly, everything made sense—and none of it was good.

But I still asked, “This morning, and last month—did you meet with Charlotte Sinclair?”

My voice was barely above a whisper. I needed to hear him say it, even if it broke me.

Charlotte Sinclair was Sebastian’s childhood friend, the one he’d once loved but couldn’t have. I suspected she was the "heroine" the bullet comments mentioned.

She was always the one. The girl he couldn’t let go of, no matter how hard he tried.

Sebastian froze.

He looked like I’d slapped him. For a second, I thought he might lie. But then his shoulders slumped.

With tears in his eyes, he asked how I knew.

His voice was so small, so defeated. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

That was it. My last hope died.

I felt something inside me snap. I was done being the fool.

The bullet comments had been right all along.

I hated how right they were. I wanted to scream, to throw something, to make it all go away.

I immediately pulled my hand back, biting my lip as I sneered, “How can you be so stupid, Sebastian?”

My words were sharp, but I needed them to be. I couldn’t let him see how much he’d hurt me.

“You really think I’d break up with you over a few palm lines?”

I let the words hang there, daring him to deny it.

A tear suddenly fell from his eye.

He looked so lost, so broken. But I couldn’t let myself care anymore.

His voice was hoarse and trembling: “Then… then why, Vivi?”

He sounded like a little boy, begging for an answer he already knew.

“Why? Don’t you know yourself?!”

I wanted to shake him, to make him understand. But I knew he never would.

I yelled at him, “With skills that bad, I don’t care how good-looking you are—I’m sick of your face. Vampire? More like a dead fish.”

It was cruel, but I needed to hurt him. I needed him to feel even a fraction. Even a sliver of what I felt.

Sebastian’s face went ghostly pale.

He looked like he’d been punched. For a second, I almost took it back. Almost.

He hung his head in shame, grabbing at my sleeve with his clean hand: “Vivi, I can practice—just give me some time, okay? I’ll work hard, please don’t break up with me…”

His voice cracked. He sounded desperate, pathetic. I almost pitied him. Almost.

We’re definitely breaking up.

I said it as firmly as I could. I needed him to believe it, even if I didn’t.

I shook him off. Even with blood running down his hand, I still called security to throw him out.

The security guards hesitated when they saw the blood, but I shot them a look that said, "Don’t even think about it." They escorted him out, gently but firmly.

“Sebastian Crowley, I’m sick of your face.”

I spat the words out, hating how much they hurt me too.

“Don’t show up in front of me again. Get lost.”

I slammed the door behind him, my hands shaking. I didn’t watch him leave. I couldn’t.

A thunderstorm was raging in Maple Heights. The windows rattled. Rain hammered down, drowning out the sound of my own sobs. It felt fitting, somehow—like the world was crying right along with me.

Thrown out of the building, Sebastian had no umbrella.

I watched from the window as he disappeared into the downpour, his shoulders hunched, blood mixing with rainwater. He looked smaller than I’d ever seen him.

He stood under a tree across from the office, refusing to leave. He just stood there. The hours dragged on. The rain didn’t let up, and neither did he.

I couldn’t stand it in the end, so I told my assistant to get him to a hospital—and to tell him to get lost.

My secretary shot me a worried look, but I insisted. “He needs stitches, not sympathy.” That was all I could say.

The livestream chat was all sobbing:

[The side character is so heartless! The villain’s acting is so good, I was totally moved, but she didn’t care at all…]

[Poor villain, his wound’s infected and he’s got a fever now, wahhh.]

[...]

I turned away, unwilling to look anymore.

I muted the comments, closed the blinds. Then I buried myself in work. Anything to keep from thinking about him.