He Chose Steak Over My Life

The day the earth shook, my fiancs charity case, Daisy Miller, insisted on finishing her last bite of Beef Wellington.

Dominic Blackwoods voice was like ice as he issued the order to our security detail: No one moves until shes finished. We leave together.

My hearing has always been unnaturally sharpa curse of hyper-sensitivity. I heard it before anyone else: the sickening crack of structural stone deep within the foundation. I didn't wait. I signaled the guards to grab Dominic and evacuate the VIP lounge immediately.

When Daisy finally stood up to chase after him, crying out his name, a massive slab of the ceiling mirrored her movement, pinning her to the polished marble floor. She died instantly.

Months later, during what was supposed to be our honeymoon, Dominic dragged me to the edge of a jagged cliff. He didn't use a gun. He used stones. He pelted me, his face twisted in a mask of grief-driven rage, until I broke.

"Its your fault!" he screamed as I fell. "If you hadn't forced me out, Daisy would still be alive. She was just a girl who liked nice things! What was her crime? Being hungry?"

He knew I was three months pregnant with his child. He didn't care.

I woke up with a gasp, the phantom pain of stones crushing my ribs still echoing in my chest. I was back in that high-end restaurant. The air smelled of expensive wine and buttery pastry.

This time, if he wants to wait for her to finish her steak, he can wait until the world ends.

"Whats the rush?" Dominic snapped, his eyes scanning the room with arrogant dismissal. "We aren't in a major fault zone. Its just a tremor. We wait until Daisy finishes her meal."

He leaned back, adjusting his silk tie. "If anyone tries to sneak out before then, consider your career with Blackwood Industries over."

He was used to being a god, a man whose word could stop the rotation of the earth. I sat across from him, my heart hammering against my ribs, the memory of my own death still burning in my veins. I quietly reached into my clutch and hit the record button on my phone.

The sound of fracturing stone was getting louder. I knew the rhythm of this disaster. In exactly two minutes, the ceiling would come down.

At a nearby table, a service dog began to whine and pace, its hackles raised. Its owner looked panicked. "Mr. Blackwood, please. We should get to the street. The steak can wait."

The Beef Wellington was still steaming. Daisy sliced a piece, her eyes wide and innocent, the very picture of a waifish girl who had never known luxury until Dominic plucked her from a community college scholarship pool. "The meat is so tender," she whispered, looking at Dominic with hero-worship. "Ive never had anything like this in my life."

Dominics expression softened into something sickeningly doting. "Its top-shelf Wagyu, flown in from Japan this morning. It would be a tragedy to let it go to waste."

In my last life, I had obsessively tracked the shipping records of that "imported" beef, wanting to leave some at her grave out of a twisted sense of guilt. I never found a record. It wasn't until much later that I learned Dominic had raised that cow himself on a private estatea strange, obsessive project. He had slaughtered it specifically for her.

The restaurant manager looked at me, pleading. "Ms. West, please. Talk to him. If this is a real quake, lives are at stake."

I took a slow, deliberate sip of my Cabernet, feeling the cool liquid coat my throat. I wasn't going to save him this time. I wasn't going to save anyone.

Before Daisy entered the picture, Dominic and I were the "it" couple of the citythe power duo. But the moment he started "mentoring" her, the dynamic shifted. I became the cold, demanding corporate shark, and she was the soft, "pure" light he needed to protect.

I looked up at the ornate ceiling, my voice calm. "The CEO said we wait. Everyone stay in your seats. Im sure everything is under control."

As the guests began to murmur in protest, the first major jolt hit. A massive ornamental medallion tore free from the ceiling, crashing between two tables with a sound like a bomb going off. A shard of flying plaster sliced across Daisys calf, leaving a thin red line of blood.

She let out a piercing, theatrical sob. "Dominic! It hurts... I think my leg is broken!"

"Hold on, Ive got you," Dominic moved faster than Id ever seen, his movements frantic and tender. He scooped her up like she was made of glass. Then, he turned on me, his face contorted with fury.

"Margot! Youre supposed to have those 'super-ears,' aren't you? You heard the ceiling cracking! Why didn't you tell us to move? You let her get hurt!"

I lowered my gaze, masking the cold smile touching my lips behind my wine glass. "Im so sorry. I must have misjudged the frequency. Ill hold myself accountable."

It seems I was the only one who came back. What a wonderful, terrifying gift.

Dominic reached out and slapped the wine glass from my hand. The red liquid sprayed across my white Dior gown like a fresh wound. "Stop acting like a statue and get out! Move! Before something else falls!"

A tremor shook the floor, causing me to lose my balance on the debris. I slipped, my ankle twisting sharply.

Dominic didn't even look back. He carried Daisy toward the emergency exit, casting one final, icy glance over his shoulder. "Stop being dramatic, Margot. Its just a fall. If you don't want to die, get up."

I sat on the floor, my palms pressed into the grit and dust, watching his back disappear. My fingers curled into fists.

Dominic seemed to have forgotten that we were here for our engagement party. I was supposed to be the lead, but I had been relegated to a background extra in the story of his "pure" obsession.

That was fine. This time, the ending wouldn't be a cliffside in the rain. It would be something much worse.

I hauled myself up using the edge of the table, my white dress ruined by wine and soot.

Outside, the air was thick with sirens. Dominic had already commandeered the only available ambulance for Daisys "scratch," taking all his bodyguards with him.

His last words to me before slamming the door were, "Find your own way home, Margot. I have a crisis to handle."

He drove off into the chaos. I didn't have my keys, and the restaurant was on a secluded ridgemiles from the city center. In the wake of a tremor, Uber was non-existent.

The remaining guests were trickling out, snapping photos of the damage for Instagram, whispering as they passed me.

"What is Margot West still doing here? This was her engagement night, wasn't it?"

"Did you see her just sitting there drinking while that girl was bleeding? Shes a sociopath. I heard Dominics been looking for a way out of the engagement for months."

I ignored them. My phone buzzed. It was a notification from Instagram. Daisy had tagged me in a post.

It was a photo of her in the back of the ambulance, leaning her head on Dominics shoulder. The caption read: I never imagined someone would be willing to stay in a collapsing building just so I could finish a meal. Thank you for choosing me, Dominic. My hero.

I almost laughed. The girl was an amateur. If the press got hold of the fact that the CEO of Blackwood Industries risked a hundred lives for a steak, the stock would plummet by morning.

As I began calculating exactly how to ruin him, a black SUV pulled up. Three men in suits stepped out.

"Ms. West. Youre coming with us."

"Where?" I took a step back, my pulse quickening.

"Mr. Blackwoods orders. Were taking you to the hospital."

I started to refuse, but they didn't give me the chance. They gripped my arms, one on each side, with a bruising strength that told me this wasn't an invitation.

"Let go of me! I can walk!"

When we arrived at the ER, Dominic was standing by the entrance. The look on his face wasn't relief. It was pure, unadulterated disgust. Daisy was slumped against him, limping theatrically.

"Shes here, Dominic," Daisy whispered, her voice a fragile reed.

I gritted my teeth. "Why am I here, Dominic?"

"Because you love to put on a show, don't you?" He stepped toward me, his voice a low hiss. "The scene tonight felt incomplete without your brand of calculated ice."

He swung his hand. The slap was so hard my ears rang. My lip split instantly, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth.

"You have 'gifted' hearing, Margot. You knew that ceiling was coming down. Why didn't you speak? Why did you sit there and watch her get hit?"

My swollen ankle gave out. I stumbled, tumbling down the three stone steps leading to the hospital entrance. I landed in a heap, my ruined dress Tangled around my legs.

Dominic loomed over me. "You wanted her dead, didn't you? Or maybe you rigged the damn ceiling yourself. Its exactly the kind of cold-blooded move youre famous for."

The speed of his turn made it clear: someone had been whispering in his ear. In my previous life, the "friends" who wanted to stay in Dominics good graces had lined up to trash my reputation the moment they saw him favor Daisy.

I looked up at him, my eyes shimmering with fake tears. "If I had told you to move, you would have called me a killjoy. You told the room that anyone who left would be fired. You remember that, don't you?"

In my last life, saving him was a crime. In this life, letting him stay was a sin. There was no winning with a man who had already decided you were the villain.

Daisys eyes welled up. "Dominic, look at her... she always has an excuse. I just wanted one nice meal, and she wanted me to die for it. Why do you hate me so much, Margot?"

I didn't think. I hauled myself up and delivered a stinging slap across Daisys face. "Daisy, shut up. I am still the woman who holds the contracts to his name. I am still his fiance."

Daisy gasped, clutching her cheek. "Dominic... she hit me..."

"Margot!" Dominics voice was thick with hatred. "You dare lay a hand on her in front of me? Have you lost your mind?"

I laughed, a jagged, cold sound. "She opened her mouth first. Im just reclaiming my dignity. And you? You should check the news. There was an actual earthquake. I don't control the tectonic plates, Dominic. Im not that powerful."

"Fine," he said, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly soft register. He turned to Daisy. "Hit her back."

Daisy blinked, stunned.

"Hit her," he repeated. "She thinks she can touch whats mine without consequences. Don't be afraid. Im right here."

Daisy looked at me, a flicker of triumph dancing in the depths of her "innocent" eyes. She stepped forward, pretending to be hesitant, but as she reached for me, she didn't aim for my face. She grabbed the neckline of my dress, yanking downward.

The delicate silk shredded. The front of my gown tore open, exposing me to the crowded hospital entrance.

Dominic didn't stop her. He didn't even flinch.

I scrambled to cover myself, my face burning with a mix of fury and humiliation. "Daisy! What the hell are you doing?"

"Oh my god, Im so sorry!" Daisy squeaked, her hands flying to her mouth. "I was just trying to talk to her, and she got so aggressive... she must have torn it herself to make me look bad..."

"You lying little"

"Enough!" Dominic roared. "I saw everything. Youre pathetic, Margot. Tearing your own clothes to frame a girl who has nothing? Youve lost your shame, and Ive lost my patience."

"Dominic, its my leg," Daisy moaned, clutching her calf where the tiny scratch had long since stopped bleeding. "The stress... I can't breathe... it hurts so much..."

"Were going," Dominic said, immediately draping his suit jacket over her shoulders. "Im getting you a full trauma sweep."

Before they turned away, Dominics eyes lingered on my swollen, purple ankle for a split second. A shadow of a frown crossed his face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

He turned to a nearby hospital administrator. "This woman is not to be treated. Not tonight. Consider it a lesson in humility. If I find out a single doctor touched her, Ill pull my funding from this wing."

I watched them disappear into the private elevators. I ended up buying a tube of ointment from a 24-hour pharmacy and limping back to the apartment I paid for with my own salary.

Late that night, the sound of a key in the lock startled me. It was Dominic. He smelled of Scotch and bitterness.

Before I could speak, he was on me. His hands were heavy, roaming over me with a possessiveness that felt like an assault.

"Dominic! Stop!" My voice trembled. "What are you doing?"

He pinned my wrists to the headboard, his weight crushing the breath out of me. "That little performance at the hospital? That was about being desperate, wasn't it? Youre starved for attention."

I struggled, screaming for him to get off. "Let me go!"

He laughed against my neck. "Why the act? Youve been in my bed for three years. You think youre a virgin now because youre mad at me?"

He forced a kiss on me, his mouth tasting of expensive liquor and resentment.

Memory hit me like a physical blow. In my previous life, he had come home drunk after Daisy died, sobbing her name while he forced himself on me. That was the night I got pregnant.

But in this life, Daisy was alive. Why was he here?

I bit his lip, hard. The metallic tang of blood filled the air.

"You bit me?"

The pain seemed to ignite something darker in him. He pressed down harder. "Fine. I like it when you fight. It makes it feel like you actually have a soul."

I screamed, my hand fumbling blindly on the nightstand. My fingers closed around a heavy crystal water glass. I swung it with every ounce of strength I had left.

CRACK.

He slumped to the side, dazed. I pushed him off with a guttural cry, grabbing a shard of the broken glass as I scrambled off the bed. I backed into the corner, clutching my torn robe, my ankle throbbing.

"Touch me again," I hissed, "and I will end this. For both of us."

Dominic wiped a smear of blood from his forehead, staring at me with a mix of shock and mounting rage.

"You hit me. You actually hit me." He stood up, his voice trembling. "Were done, Margot. The engagement is over. You won't get another dime, another contract, or another second of my time. Youre nothing without the Blackwood name."

The next morning, my phone chimed. It was a DM from Daisy. It was a photo of her and Dominic in beda mess of tangled sheets and smug smiles.

He came to me last night, Margot. He was calling your name at first, but by the end, he knew exactly who he was with. It was my peak ovulation window. Maybe Ill be the one carrying the Blackwood heir soon. Good luck with the 'ex' title.

I didn't bother getting angry. I just replied: Keep him. Hes a depreciating asset.

By noon, the media was in a frenzy.

[BREAKING: Dominic Blackwood Calls Off Engagement to Tech Heiress Margot West]

[Who is Daisy Miller? The Mystery Girl Set to Become the New Queen of Blackwood Industries]

My social feeds were a graveyard of my past life. Photos of me were being cropped out of gala shots, replaced by blurry candids of Daisy smiling. I was the "scorned woman," the "cold-hearted ice queen" who had finally been thawed out of the picture.

I didn't care. I was waiting.

At 10:00 AM, I received a call from a blocked number.

"Ms. West? Its the firm. Theres an auction tonight at The Obsidian Room. It involves a major transition project for Blackwood Industries. Mr. Blackwood insisted you attend as a 'special guest.' Well have a car for you."

After my father died, I had funneled almost my entire inheritance into Blackwood stock to help Dominic build his empire. Even if we were over, I still owned a significant chunk of that company. I figured I owed it to my bank account to show up one last time.

But I knew Dominic. He didn't do "special guests" out of kindness. I made a phone call of my own first, setting a different set of wheels in motion.

When I arrived at the auction, the atmosphere was predatory.

The auctioneer took the stage, his voice booming: "Tonights first item is a gift from Mr. Blackwood to Ms. Miller. A pair of rare Qing Dynasty vases. Opening bid: three million!"

Dominic didn't even look at the catalog. "Ten million."

Daisy sat beside him in a champagne gold gown that looked three sizes too small for her dignity. She looked like a child playing dress-up, radiating a desperate, nouveau-riche energy that made the old money in the room cringe.

A Tang bronze censer. A Song Dynasty tea bowl. A Ming era hairpin.

For every item, Dominic raised his paddle without blinking.

"Item number 48, sold to Mr. Blackwood for Ms. Miller."

"Item 72, sold."

"Item 89, sold."

Daisy clutched a gold hairpin, her eyes gleaming. "Dominic, are you really going to buy me 99 items?"

He squeezed her hand, his voice loud enough for the front three rows to hear. "I promised you a 'House of Gold,' didn't I? You deserve a legacy that isn't built on ice."

I sat in the shadows of the back row, my knuckles white. He had said those exact words to me four years ago.

I waited for the "business" portion of the evening, but it never came. It was just a public humiliation ritual. I stood to leave, but a waiter blocked my path.

"Ms. West, you can't leave. Youre the grand finale. Mr. Blackwoods orders."

"The grand finale?"

The waiter looked uncomfortable. "Youll see."

A cold pit formed in my stomach. Suddenly, the house lights dimmed, and a single, piercing spotlight hit me. The stage floor beneath me began to rise, lifting me up until I was center stage, exposed to the entire elite of the city.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the auctioneer announced, his voice tinged with a cruel mirth. "Our 100th and final 'item' of the night. A special surprise curated by Mr. Blackwood himself... the lovely Ms. Margot West."

The room erupted in hushed laughter and mocking whispers.

"Is he actually auctioning off his ex-fiance?"

"Look at her face. From CEO to a charity lot. Talk about a fall from grace."

Daisy was preening, leaning into Dominics chest. "Oh, Dominic, she looks so sad. Do you think anyone will actually bid on her? Its almost a mercy killing at this point."

My watch vibrated. A text from my contact: Its done.

I looked down at Dominic. I let a slow, predatory smile spread across my face. The game was over.

"Im afraid," I said, my voice amplified by the stage mic, "that this auction is officially cancelled."