Chapter 1 ：Shards of Rain
**Chapter 1: Shards of Rain**
Rain didn’t fall—it *shattered*. Like heaven had cracked open and was dumping broken glass on Seattle.
Lila Voss leaned against a smoky BBQ cart in Rainier Valley， half-empty bottle of bourbon dangling from her fingers. The amber liquid sloshed under flickering neon—red， blue， green—like some fucked-up funeral playing on repeat. Bass thumped through her heels. The air? Charred meat， stale beer， and wet concrete—everything rotting together in one greasy sigh.
She knew every face here. Kane Group interns. Finance bros still riding their IPO high. Influencers posing like they gave a shit about anything real. Phones everywhere. Capturing hot dogs. Kisses. Selfies. Like they were filming the next viral tragedy before it even happened.
She used to be Elias Kane’s fiancée.
Now he was kissing Clara Vey like his quarterly numbers depended on it.
Clara wore a backless silk dress， gold curls spilling over her shoulders like she’d stepped out of a Saks ad wrapped in plastic. Her strawberry-red lips left a glossy smear on Elias’s jaw. When he leaned in， that old scar on his neck—the one Lila used to trace during ER wait times—glowed under the neon. Polished. Like a trophy.
He smiled.
White teeth. Bone-deep. Like someone’d peeled back his skin and left it raw.
“Another sip?” Clara cooed，Shake the champagne glass—voice so sweet it could rot your gums and still make you beg for more.
Elias didn’t blink. Didn’t hesitate. Just dove right back in—like he was making sure his prize still fit.
Lila’s throat closed like she’d swallowed a chunk of ice.
She stepped forward.
Her heels cracked against wet wood—sharp as a bone snapping before it breaks.
The crowd split like someone’d slit open a corpse with invisible steel.
Phones turned. Lenses locked on her.
“Elias.”
He didn’t look up.
“*Elias.*”
Louder now. Like a blade dragged over rusted metal.
Finally， he lifted his head.
Those eyes—once full of her reflection—were empty now. Cold. Dead. Like the bottom of an October lake.
“Who the fuck are you?”
She laughed.
Tears pooled. Didn’t fall.
“You were on your knees outside my apartment last week，” she said.“Begging me not to leave. Said，*‘Without Lila， my heart stops.’* You remember that?”
He frowned like he was trying to debug a corrupted file.
“Don’t recall. You’re mistaken.”
“Mistaken?” She raised the bottle—upside down.
Not a drop. Not half.
*The whole damn thing.*
Amber liquid drenched his face—raining down his nose， chin， soaking his shirt. Dripped onto Clara’s dress. Pooled on the carpet.
Dark as blood.
A collective gasp.
“You fucking psycho!” Clara screamed， stumbling back. Her makeup ran like someone’d poured acid on a Barbie.
Elias didn’t flinch.
Just a flicker in his eyes. Slow. Cold. Like a shark gliding under ice.
“Security，” he said， voice calm as a funeral hymn.“Take her out.”
Two giants materialized from the shadows， grabbing her arms.
Lila didn’t fight.
Just stared at him. Slow. Clear. Each word a nail hammered into his skull.
“You forgot the hexagram.”
His gaze twitched.
“What?”
“The one you carved on the oak. Twenty-seventh Street. At the base of Rainier.” Her voice cracked like dry timber.“You swore you’d marry me at twenty-five.”
He laughed.
Not sweet. Not nostalgic.
Mocking. Like he was watching some lunatic rant on YouTube.
“That’s grade-school graffiti，” he said.“I never believed in that shit.”
Lila closed her eyes.
Something inside her broke.
They dragged her through the crowd. One shoe left behind. Laughter. Phones rolling. Whispers:*Is she on something?*
She didn’t look back.
Not until they dumped her in the alley—face-first into freezing asphalt.
Rain hammered her skin like a drum solo on a dead man’s chest.
She lay there. Stared up.
The clouds? A shroud.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
She pulled it out.
One message.
From Elias:
**You really think you’re entitled to this?**
She deleted it.
Then blocked every damn account he had.
—
**Interlude: August 3， 2016**
Sunlight burned like it wanted to peel her skin off.
She remembered the stupid pink dress—the one Elias bought with his first internship paycheck. White daisies stitched along the hem. He said she looked like strawberry milk. She called him corny.
But every big day? She wore it.
They biked up Rainier’s foothills. Basket full of a blanket and her lopsided turkey sandwiches—mayo smeared like war paint. She wheezed climbing; he pushed his bike， hand resting on her seat.
“Fuckin’ heavy，” he grumbled.
“Then let go.”
She grinned over her shoulder.
He didn’t.
At noon， they sprawled under clouds that moved like they were paid to stall.
She bit into her sandwich. Mayo on her lip.
“Elias.”
“Hm?”
“You ever imagine our future?”
Silence. Long enough she thought he’d passed out.
Then—eyes closed:“No.”
Liar. His ears were on fire.
She wandered off to pick wildflowers.
Actually? Pocket full of Grandma’s silver pocketknife—snake coils wrapped around the handle.
Found the old oak. Trunk wide enough to hug.
Pressed the blade to wood.
Hand shook.
**2**
**5**
**—**
The knife slipped on“marry.”
Cut her thumb.
A bead of blood welled. Dripped onto the last stroke of“you.”
Like a blood seal on a promise.
She stared. Then cried.
Didn’t know if it was the pain…
…or knowing this vow might never be kept.
Back on the blanket， he was reading. Saw her Band-Aid. Didn’t ask.
Just pulled iodine wipes from his bag， took her hand， cleaned it again.
“Idiot，” he muttered.
“Mind your business.”
On the bus home， she fell asleep against his shoulder. Sunlight danced on her lashes.
He glanced down.
Saw tree bark clinging to her dress.
Saw the pink smear bleeding through the Band-Aid’s edge.
Inside his head:*On my twenty-fifth birthday， I’m gonna propose right here.*
That night， he wrote in his journal:
**August 3， 2016**
She asked me about the future.
Didn’t dare say:*My future is you.*
She carved on the tree. I saw it.
*25— marry you.*
I will.
Even if the whole world says no.
He stared at those words.
Suddenly， ice flooded his veins.
Because he knew—
His world? The Kane world?
It would say no.
