Years after we parted ways, we crossed paths again. I was holding my son's hand; he was arm-in-arm with his new girlfriend. When someone mentioned his ex, he scoffed. "I paid for her entire college education. Once she graduated, she dumped me because I was too poor and married someone else." Someone joked, "I bet your ex is drowning in regret right now." His eyes flashed, locking onto mine. "Does Mrs. Vance think she regrets it?" I choked down the bitterness in my throat. "No regret..." He let out a cold laugh. "Well, I regret it." "I regret ever taking that stray cat home." 1 When I was eighteen, Liam took me in when I had nowhere to go. He worked to put me through college, loving me with everything he had. We agreed to get married right after graduation. But after graduation, I left him, citing his lack of money, and married someone else. Five years later, he appeared at a high-end charity auction, a beautiful girlfriend on his arm, throwing money around without a second thought. "Three million." "Three point five." "Four million." Liam seemed intent on outbidding Arthur Vance. Every time Arthur raised the bid, Liam immediately countered. The entire room of elite guests settled in to watch the show. Unfazed, Liam casually raised his paddle again. "Five million." A collective gasp echoed through the room. Arthur hesitated for a moment, contemplating another bid. I reached out and gently rested my hand on his arm, stopping him. "It's fine, Arthur. Let it go." Arthur tilted his head slightly, whispering, "You don't want it?" I shook my head. "Five million going once. Five million going twice. Sold!" "The antique gold and kingfisher feather hairpin goes to Mr. Sterling for five million dollars. Congratulations." The room buzzed with gossip about the CEO of Sterling Enterprises spending a fortune to impress his date. Back when we were together and struggling to get by, he had bought me a simple wooden hairpin. It cost fifty dollars. It felt too expensive. He worked so hard for his money back then. I cried, begging him to return it. He just ruffled my hair, unfazed. "I'll buy you much more expensive ones in the future. My Scarlett deserves something worth at least five million." Today, he really did spend five million on a hairpin. It just wasn't for me anymore. After the auction, Liam was surrounded by people. Some were networking; others were asking for photos with his girlfriend. His girlfriend was famous—Chloe, a rising starlet currently trending everywhere. I was holding little Leo's hand, walking out beside Arthur, when we collided head-on with Liam. He was wearing a bespoke suit, radiating an intimidating, aristocratic aura. His expression was cold and detached—a look I had never seen on him before. The woman clinging to his arm was smiling brightly, looking absolutely radiant. "Thank you for yielding the floor today, Arthur." Liam stopped and greeted Arthur, but his eyes were fixed entirely on me. In the past, whenever he looked at me, his eyes were always full of a unique, gentle adoration. Now, his gaze was freezing and completely alien. The moment our eyes met, my heart seized. I gripped Leo's little hand tighter. "Don't mention it, Liam. The highest bidder wins, simple as that." Arthur smiled warmly, offering a polite handshake. "This is my wife, Scarlett, and my son, Leo." Liam's eyes flickered. His gaze drifted down to where my hand held Leo's. He froze for a fraction of a second before a dark, unreadable smirk curved his lips. "You're a lucky man, Arthur." Arthur returned a modest smile. "I can't compare to you. Chloe is even more stunning in person than on screen." Chloe blushed, offering a happy, contented smile, and tightened her grip on Liam's arm. Arthur joked lightly, "Spending five million dollars just to make a beautiful woman smile—that's a story people will be talking about for a while." The surrounding crowd echoed his sentiments, admiring the picture-perfect couple. But then, the assistant standing next to Liam suddenly let out an inappropriate, mocking laugh. "That's nothing. You should have seen how our boss treated his ex-girlfriend. He practically ripped his own heart out to give it to her." I almost didn't recognize him. It had been years. He used to be a punk kid with dyed red hair who hung around Liam. Now, Chris was wearing a sharp suit, his hair cut into a clean, professional style. His eyes swept over me, carrying blatant, undisguised mockery. "It's just a shame that some people are completely blind." The crowd immediately started whispering among themselves. "I didn't know Mr. Sterling had an ex." Liam shook his head, his expression indifferent. He let out a light chuckle. "It's not worth mentioning." His cold eyes carried a faint, derisive sneer. "I paid her way through four years of college. Once she graduated, she decided I was too poor and married someone else." Chloe, sensing the tension, playfully chimed in. "Chris, why didn't you ever tell me about this? A girl who could make Liam act like such a hopeless romantic must be incredibly beautiful, right?" Chris scoffed. His mocking gaze locked onto me, his tone dripping with cruel amusement. "You know what's funny? Mrs. Vance here actually looks a lot like my former sister-in-law." He emphasized the word 'former' heavily, his expression dripping with absolute contempt. "If she knew how successful Liam is today, do you think her guts are green with regret?" I lowered my eyes, desperately avoiding his stare, but Chris only pressed harder. "I heard Scarlett is Arthur's second wife. They say being a stepmom is a tough job, but Scarlett seems to be handling it pretty comfortably." Suddenly, everyone was looking at me. The whispers grew louder, filled with veiled speculation and judgment. The humiliation washed over me like a suffocating wave. I ducked my head as low as I could. Just as my embarrassment peaked, little Leo violently ripped his hand from mine, charged straight at Chris, and bit down hard on his arm. Chris hissed in pain, his face contorting, but he couldn't exactly hit a child in public. Arthur quickly stepped forward and pulled Leo back. "My apologies. My son can be a bit unruly." He picked Leo up, his demeanor remaining polite but noticeably colder. "I don't believe I have any prior grievances with you, Mr. Sterling. What exactly is your assistant trying to achieve by publicly humiliating my wife?" Liam frowned slightly, reaching up to loosen his tie. His gaze shifted back to me. "My apologies. Perhaps Mrs. Vance just looks a little too much like my ex." He turned to Chris. "Chris, apologize to Mrs. Vance." Chris shoved his hands into his pockets, barely lifting his eyelids. "My bad, Mrs. Vance. I hope you—don't take offense." His voice was lazy and insincere. It wasn't an apology; it was a taunt. "You know how it is for guys like us who grew up on the streets. We're just uneducated trash with no manners." Chris's words pierced my heart like a needle, leaving a dull, aching pain. Five years ago, when we broke up, I had screamed at Liam: "Liam, you're nothing but a broke, uneducated thug! You are completely beneath me!" Now, he had transformed into an industry titan. He was highly successful, with a beautiful woman by his side. It felt like a resounding slap across my face. My hands, hidden beneath my sleeves, were clenched so tightly they were trembling. Just as the humiliation became unbearable, Leo ran back over and grabbed my hand. "Mommy, bathroom." "Okay, Mommy will take you." I grabbed Leo's hand and practically fled the scene. 2 I leaned against the tiled wall outside the restrooms, letting out a shaky breath. My entire body was trembling slightly. Liam. Liam... Even now, I couldn't believe this sudden, unexpected reunion was real. Then, footsteps echoed from the end of the hall. When I looked up, that sharply defined face, backlit by the hallway lights, was stepping closer and closer. It felt like something slammed violently into my chest, making it impossible to breathe. I didn't dare look at him. My only instinct was to run. I spun around in a panic, trying to leave. "Scarlett." His deep voice resonated behind me. My trembling fingers twisted tightly together. "What are you running from?" He stepped in front of me, casting a tall shadow over me. He had taken off his suit jacket, leaving only a black dress shirt. The collar was unbuttoned, his tie hanging loosely around his neck. Familiar scent. Unfamiliar eyes. "Liam... it's... it's been a long time..." I tried desperately to suppress my panic, but the words stumbled out in a broken, trembling whisper. He stared at me, a violent storm seemingly raging in the depths of his eyes. After a long silence, his Adam's apple bobbed twice. "Don't you think you owe me an explanation for what happened?" His thin lips were pressed tightly together, his jaw clenched hard. Meeting his dark, unfathomable gaze sent waves of panic and sour pain crashing through me. I had seen him in so many different states, but this—this familiar yet terrifyingly foreign version of him—felt like an illusion layered over the Liam I remembered. I stayed silent for a long time, only managing to force out two words: "I'm sorry..." He stared at me, suddenly letting out a harsh scoff. "Hah. Five years, and all I get is 'I'm sorry.'" He suddenly stepped closer. I scrambled backward in panic until my spine hit the cold wall. "Scarlett, I have a lot of money now." His voice was icy, his expression steeped in profound loneliness. He trapped me in the corner. I could hear his heavy, uneven breathing right next to my ear. I pressed myself tightly against the wall, keeping my head down, too terrified to meet his eyes. "Liam, I... I'm married..." His breathing grew heavier. He suddenly reached out, gripping my chin and tilting my head up, staring intensely into my face. "Do you regret it, Scarlett?" I was forced to look into his eyes. The corners of his eyes were rimmed with red, his gaze burning hot and cold at the same time. I clenched my fists, desperately suppressing the agonizing ache in my chest. "No regret..." He suddenly laughed softly. His hand slid from my chin down to my neck, tightening just enough to restrict my breathing. "Scarlett, you really are... something else..." His bloodshot eyes glared at me, his icy stare piercing my heart like a blade. "But I regret it." "I regret ever taking that stray cat home." —— The "stray cat" he was talking about was me. Ten years ago, I was curled up on a hard plastic chair in a hospital hallway, shivering from the freezing cold. He sat down next to me, covered in fresh cuts and bruises. When I caught a glimpse of the tattoos on his arm, I was terrified and secretly scooted a few inches away. He shot me a bold, sideways glance. "Scared of me?" I hugged my knees tightly, not daring to look at him or answer. "I'm a pretty handsome guy, am I really that scary?" I snuck a quick peek at him. His face was bruised and swollen, and a slightly crooked bandage was wrapped around his head. He looked absolutely nothing like 'handsome.' I frowned and shook my head. He looked confused. "What does shaking your head mean? Not handsome enough, or not scary?" I didn't answer. Instead, he stood up and stood directly in front of me, looking me up and down. "Whose kid are you? What are you doing in a hospital all by yourself?" "Did you get into a fight with your parents and run away?" I still didn't respond. He frowned, looking at me with genuine curiosity. "Are you mute?" He pulled out his phone and started dialing. "Kid, I'll have the cops take you home in a second." Seeing him about to call the police, I panicked. I grabbed his shirt and begged, "Please, don't..." "Oh, so you can talk," he teased. "Where do you live?" he asked again. "I... I don't have a home..." I whispered. "Aren't you afraid of freezing to death sleeping here in the middle of winter?" "None... none of your business..." I was pretty scared of him. He looked exactly like the kind of violent thug you shouldn't mess with. "Tch, fine. I don't want to get involved anyway." He shot me a look and turned to walk away. Just as my racing heart began to settle, he suddenly spun around and marched right back. Without a word, he grabbed my backpack and jerked his chin at me. "You can either go to the police station, or you can come home with me. Pick one." I was terrified by his sudden aggression and frantically tried to grab my backpack back. But he was tall. He just lifted his arm straight up in the air, and even when I jumped, I couldn't reach it. "Give... give it back to me..." I was so desperate I was on the verge of tears. "Do I really look that much like a bad guy?" He frowned, looking at me in utter disbelief. I stared at his bruised face, biting my lip hard, too scared to speak. "My good looks are just temporarily sealed away right now. Once these heal, I'll be handsome again." He shot me a disdainful look. "Besides, kid, look at yourself. What do you even have? My taste isn't that bad." "Either come with me, or I'm taking you to the cops. Pick one." I was so anxious I didn't know what to say. Seeing me stay silent, he drawled lazily, "I'm counting to three. If you don't speak, I'm calling the cops." "Three, two..." "No, no police station..." In my panic, I grabbed the hem of his jacket. He couldn't help but laugh out loud. He grabbed my wrist, holding my hand with one hand and carrying my backpack in the other, and walked out the door. At the entrance, a guy with dyed red hair saw Liam holding onto someone and looked absolutely shocked. "Wait, bro... you went to get checked out and came back with a cute girl?" His eyes darted around slyly. He nudged Liam, grinning mischievously. "Where'd you find her? She looks super young. Is this your type?" Liam shot him a lethal glare and snapped impatiently, "Found her." Years later, curled up in his arms, I asked him why he decided to take me home that day. He said that back then, I was blinking at everything with big, wet, terrified eyes, defensive against the whole world, just like a stray kitten. I looked so pathetic it inexplicably triggered his protective instincts. Later on, he always joked that he had literally picked his future wife up off the street. 3 That night, my heart was in my throat the entire time I followed him upstairs. It was a rundown, ancient apartment complex. The motion-sensor light in the stairwell was incredibly dim, shutting off just a few seconds after it flickered on. When the stairwell plunged into darkness, my foot missed a step. Just as I was about to fall, he quickly grabbed my shoulder to steady me. But my heart was hammering faster and faster. I regretted it. Why was I following a strange man to his apartment? My brain started flashing through every true crime documentary I had ever seen about missing teenage girls. When we reached his door, I stood completely frozen, refusing to go inside. He threw me an annoyed glare. "What, you like squatting in doorways?" He stepped over the threshold, tossed my backpack onto the sofa, and then flopped down right next to it. He grabbed a black puffer jacket, threw it over himself, and closed his eyes. He casually added: "Forgot to tell you, this building is haunted. Weird noises start echoing through the walls around midnight." Standing in the doorway, I looked back at the pitch-black stairwell and was absolutely terrified. I stood there, paralyzed with fear, not knowing what to do. A draft blew through the hallway, making me shiver violently. The guy in the living room let out a sudden, annoyed huff. "Either go sleep in the bedroom, or shut the front door." With that, he pulled the puffer jacket completely over his head. The night was far too quiet. So quiet I could only hear the wind and my own heartbeat. I glanced at the guy on the sofa. He seemed to be asleep. It was too cold and I was too exhausted. I tiptoed into the bedroom. Compared to the hard plastic chairs at the hospital, the bed felt like heaven. I fell asleep almost instantly. When I woke up the next morning, he was gone. I secretly breathed a sigh of relief, grabbed my backpack, and practically sprinted out the door. His apartment was very close to my high school. It wasn't until I arrived at school and saw the zipper of my backpack open that I realized my English textbook was missing. After frantically retracing my steps and finding nothing, I narrowed the prime suspect down to that sofa from yesterday. But he looked so intimidating. I didn't dare go back and ask him. We were from completely different worlds anyway. I figured our paths would never cross again. Until a few days later, when someone stood at the back door of my classroom and called my name. I turned around. It was a guy wearing a black puffer jacket, hands shoved deep in his pockets, leaning lazily against the doorframe. He was tall, with sharp, narrow eyes, thin lips, and a lazy, slightly feral aura about him. I thought I misheard. I didn't know him. I glanced at him once and turned back around. "Hey, Liam! What brings you down here?" a guy from my class asked as he walked by. Liam answered impatiently, "Looking for someone." "Scarlett, senior class four." He called out again. The voice sounded familiar, but the face didn't. "Scarlett! Liam is looking for you!" a guy yelled at the top of his lungs. The entire class turned to look at me. Under the scrutinizing stares of thirty students, I slowly shuffled over to him. "H-hi... did... did you need something?" He let out a cold scoff, dropped a book directly onto the top of my head, and turned to leave. I confusedly pulled the book down. It was my missing English textbook. It was him. It really was him... His battered, swollen face from that night was completely unrecognizable from how he looked now. He truly did have a very handsome face. A group of classmates immediately swarmed me, burning with curiosity. "Hey Scarlett, how do you know Liam Sterling?!" He was Liam Sterling??? Even though I had only recently transferred to this school, I knew that name. He was the secret (and not-so-secret) crush of half the girls in the school. The notorious bad boy from the science track upstairs who fought like he had a death wish. But thinking back on it, he didn't seem quite as evil as the rumors claimed. 4 That afternoon, my mom unexpectedly showed up to pick me up from school. My mom didn't like me. In fact, she resented me. She was incredibly beautiful and had spent most of her life relying on men to support her. I had always been her dead weight. Her new husband, Richard, was very wealthy. He looked refined and cultured. And he didn't seem to hate me. He smiled at me and bought me pretty clothes. I thought my days of wandering aimlessly with her were finally over. But then I noticed my stepdad finding excuses to casually touch me. Until one day, while I was taking a shower, he used a key to unlock the bathroom door. That night, I fled the house in sheer terror. With nowhere to go, I hid in the hospital corridors. That was the night I met Liam. "Mom, is Richard still away on his business trip?" I asked cautiously, testing the waters. "He just got back today. That's why he asked me to pick you up so we could all have a nice family dinner." "I'm not going. Let me out of the car." Sheer terror instantly paralyzed my body. "What are you throwing a tantrum for? Your stepdad had a little too much to drink that night and accidentally opened the wrong door. It's not a big deal." My mom glared at me impatiently, pointing a warning finger at me. "Scarlett, I finally managed to land a rich man. Do not ruin this for me. Pissing off Richard won't do either of us any good." That night, Richard bought me more expensive clothes, and at the dinner table, he calmly explained away the "misunderstanding." But I was still terrified. The bed in that massive mansion was incredibly soft, but I didn't dare fall asleep. At 2 AM, I heard the lock on my bedroom door click open. Richard stood silently behind me, reaching for the hem of my pajamas. He told me to put on the new clothes he bought me so he could see how they looked. I had a total breakdown. I called the police and showed them the hidden camera footage from my bedroom. Yes, I had secretly installed a camera just so my mom would finally believe I wasn't lying. I handed the footage to the police, but the officers said the video "didn't prove anything concrete." My mom stood next to them, laughing nervously, dismissing it as a family squabble caused by a rebellious teenager acting out. Richard was a highly influential local businessman. In the end, the police actually apologized to him before leaving respectfully. My mom slapped me hard across the face. She called me cheap. She accused me of trying to seduce her husband. She said I ruined her life. She told me to get out. She said she no longer had a daughter. I didn't understand what I had done wrong. If she hated me so much, why did she even give birth to me? With nowhere to go, I aimlessly wandered the dark streets. In a narrow alleyway behind my high school, several stray cats were huddled together inside a battered cardboard box. Someone was crouching down, tearing open a cheap sausage and breaking it into pieces to feed them. The person caught sight of me out of the corner of his eye. When we made eye contact, I was a little surprised. It was Liam. "Liam..." He fed the last piece of sausage to the kittens and gave them a gentle pat on the head. "What?" He stood up and walked over to me. I stayed crouched on the ground, not daring to look up at him. "Hello? Scarlett." When I didn't answer, he gently nudged the toe of my sneaker with his shoe. "Can... can I come home with you?" I whispered, slowly lifting my head to look at him. The moment our eyes met, he froze slightly. "What, is my place a designated safehouse now? Or a hotel? The kind you sleep at once and then run away from?" He glared at me, clearly displeased. "Weren't you fighting tooth and nail not to go the other night?" "I... I don't think you're a bad person..." I explained softly. He couldn't help but let out a cynical laugh. Maybe it was because he was willing to feed cheap sausages to stray cats that I felt like, despite his intimidating exterior, he was actually kind-hearted. "My... my mom doesn't want me anymore. Can... can you take me in for a little while?" "Hah. Why the hell should I take you in?" he fired back. "I can take care of you! I can cook, wash your clothes, clean your apartment! And... and I don't eat very much..." I looked up at him with pleading eyes, hoping he would show some mercy. I was terrified to live on the streets alone, and I had almost no money. I genuinely didn't know how I was going to survive. He gritted his teeth, looking incredibly irritated, before turning around and walking away. Just as my head dropped in bitter disappointment, he stopped, frowned, looked back over his shoulder, and snapped impatiently, "Well? Are you coming or not?" But when he saw the burnt, rock-hard pancakes I tried to make for him, he grabbed one, used it to smash a walnut open, and looked like he seriously regretted his life choices. "Scarlett, this is what you call knowing how to cook?" "Are you trying to murder your... trying to kill me?! This is what you call taking care of me?!" He yelled at me, looking furious. "I... I'll learn. I promise I'll learn fast." I explained in a tiny voice. He let out a heavy huff, turned around, walked into the kitchen, and boiled two bowls of ramen for us. 5 Even though he constantly complained about me, he eventually bought a folding cot and put it in his bedroom. He even hung a curtain between our two beds. For the first time in weeks, I didn't have to stay awake paralyzed by fear. The sound of his steady breathing coming from the other side of the curtain inexplicably made me feel incredibly safe. I spent most of my time in the bedroom doing practice exams to prep for the SATs. He spent most of his time in the living room, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, playing video games on his computer. There seemed to be a very clear, impenetrable boundary line between us. But as time went on, the tension between us began to ease. He looked mean, and he constantly threatened to kick me out, but he was always the one aggressively cooking enough food for both of us. I reminded him that smoking was bad for his health. He brushed it off with a careless, "When it's your time, it's your time." I pulled out my phone and read webMD articles to him out loud: "Long-term smoking leads to cardiovascular damage, throat cancer, and lung cancer." He ignored me, blowing smoke rings at the ceiling. "It also leads to low sperm count, sperm abnormalities, and severe infertility..." He cursed loudly under his breath and aggressively crushed his cigarette into the ashtray. One night, right before we went to sleep, a sharp scream echoed from the apartment above us. I was so startled I clutched my blanket tight. I suddenly remembered Liam telling me this building was haunted and that weird noises happened at midnight. Terrified and shaking, I called out, "Liam... are you asleep?" "What do you want?" he answered, his voice thick with sleep. "Did... did you hear that weird noise upstairs? Is this place actually haunted?" I was petrified. "I..." He gritted his teeth, rolled over aggressively, and didn't answer me. The noises from upstairs continued intermittently. It wasn't until my face was burning hot that I finally realized what the sound actually was. Blushing furiously, I pulled the blanket over my head, but I couldn't fall asleep. Once the noises upstairs finally stopped, Liam got out of bed and went to the bathroom. He went back and forth three times. I started getting worried. "Liam, are you sick? Do you need to go to the hospital?" He ground his teeth together. "No." "You really need to stop smoking. It's destroying your immune system," I advised him earnestly. He snapped back fiercely, "Scarlett, if you don't go to sleep right now, I'm throwing you out the window." He yelled at me again, but I knew he wouldn't actually throw me out. That night, for whatever reason, we both suffered from a mutual, unspoken bout of insomnia. Through that thin curtain, we talked for hours. I asked him why he lived alone. He said his parents divorced when he was little, and two years ago, his dad was killed by a drunk truck driver. Now it was just him. He asked me why I was crying that day in the alley, and why I had a handprint on my face. I told him my mom married a new guy, they both hated me, and she threw me out. I didn't dare tell him about my stepdad. I was young, and I felt like being assaulted was dirty and shameful. He said, "If they don't want you, I'll take you. You're easy to take care of anyway, and you barely eat anything." I asked him, "Liam, are you going to college?" I knew his grades were terrible. Even if he tried, he'd only get into a community college at best. He said he wasn't cut out for school. Once he graduated high school, he was going to start working, save up money, and marry a good wife. I stayed quiet for a long time before saying, "Liam, I want to go to a college out of state." I hated this city. I was terrified I might run into Richard again one day. He stayed silent for a very long time before finally grunting, "Good. Then nobody will be here to annoy me anymore." I thought that maybe our story would just quietly end after high school graduation. He was like a beam of light that shone on me for a brief moment, but I couldn't hold onto him. I was just a stray cat, destined to wander the world alone. 6 But stories rarely go the way you expect. I never predicted the ending, and I certainly never imagined that one day, he would be pinning me against a wall with bloodshot eyes, demanding to know if I regretted leaving him. I choked back my agony and told him no, but he told me he regretted it. He stared at me like he wanted to rip me apart and devour me whole. Until little Leo started furiously kicking and punching his legs, screaming, "Bad man! Let go of my mommy!" His grip loosened immediately. He stared at me, completely stunned, and whispered, "Scarlett. This isn't over." I didn't have time to overthink what his "not over" meant until three days later, when a massive shipment of Arthur's company goods was unexpectedly detained at the port. Customs flagged the entire shipment for "suspected smuggling" and ordered a full-scale inspection. Arthur was bleeding thousands of dollars a day in penalty fees, the delivery deadline was looming, and the port authority refused to release the cargo. I went to Liam's corporate headquarters. It was the tallest skyscraper in the city. The massive letters "Sterling Enterprises" gleamed blindingly in the sun. His secretary told me politely but firmly that Mr. Sterling was busy and had no time for visitors. "That's fine. I'll wait until he isn't busy." I waited in the reception lobby for five agonizing hours. Eventually, his girlfriend Chloe walked straight into his office, and a few minutes later, walked out with her arm linked happily through his. I swallowed my humiliation, lowered my pride, and approached him. "Mr. Sterling. Do you have a moment now?" He slowly, casually checked his luxury watch and let out a mocking laugh. "It's only been five hours. Have you ever tried waiting for someone for five years, Scarlett?" I forced down my crushing embarrassment, my tone incredibly submissive. "Mr. Sterling, what happened back then was entirely my fault. Arthur had nothing to do with it. Please, let his company's shipment go." He shook his head, a cruel, mocking smile spreading across his face. "Nothing to do with it? You are Mrs. Vance. He is your husband. You think he has nothing to do with it?" "Liam, what do you want? I'll do whatever it takes," I asked, fighting to keep my composure. He looked at me, a dark, unreadable smirk playing on his lips. "What if I want you to divorce him?" His eyes burned into me, as if trying to see straight through to my soul. When I stood there frozen in silence, he let out a harsh scoff and turned to walk away. "Mr. Sterling." I panicked and stepped in front of him to block his path. "I can divorce him..." Arthur and I had never actually had a real marriage anyway. He had helped me survive the darkest period of my life. I refused to let my past destroy his company. His eyes flickered. He looked at me, his gaze swirling with emotions I couldn't decipher. "Do you still remember 52 King's Hill Road, Scarlett? Be there tonight. Wait for me." 52 King's Hill Road. That was the address of the apartment he bought to be our future home. Walking down that familiar street again made my chest ache with a suffocating pain. The passcode to the smart lock was still my birthday. I pushed the door open. The tiny 900-square-foot apartment, which had just been bare concrete and exposed wires five years ago, had been transformed into a warm, beautiful home. Standing in the center of the room, every conversation we had in this exact spot played through my head like a movie. "Liam, I love minimalist Scandinavian design." "Let's fill the balcony with potted flowers." "I want a massive bookshelf right here." "Let's make this a photo wall." "How about a rocking chair over here?" He had held me in his arms, agreeing to every single thing, promising to buy me an even bigger house in the future. Now, standing in this apartment, the home I had dreamed of was completely real. The bookshelf, the fresh flowers, the rocking chair, the beautiful renovations. On the photo wall behind the sofa hung picture after picture of us together, from age 18 to 22. Running my fingers over the photos, my control shattered. I broke down and sobbed uncontrollably. The memories of those years crashed over me like a tidal wave.
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