After dinner, I sat in Ryan's lap, his chin resting on the crook of my neck. Suddenly, he said, "Honey, why do you feel so tiny?" I froze. While I was 5'3" and Ryan was 6'2", we'd been together for six whole years. How could he not be used to my size? I playfully retorted, "What, after six years, you're just now noticing I'm 'tiny'?" Ryan realized his slip, pretending nothing happened by lifting me and kissing me fiercely against the wall. After the kiss, he coaxed me in an intimate tone: "How could I, honey?" "I love that feeling of being able to wrap my arms completely around your petite frame." That night, Ryan tirelessly pinned me to the bed, with a hint of punishment in his touch. Even my sister, when she brought me gifts from abroad the next day, teased: "Tsk tsk, Ryan really isn't afraid of breaking your delicate little body." But I just held her hand and said, "Sis, I need to call off the wedding with Ryan." 1 "Ann, could it be a misunderstanding?" My sister took the lunch delivery from the door, arranging the containers one by one: "Look, for six years, Ryan has consistently made sure your life is perfectly arranged." "Even Mom and Dad say he's spoiled you like a princess." "He's a decisive, no-nonsense executive outside, but at home, he's your loyal golden retriever." I clutched the cartoon blanket tighter around me, saying nothing. Even this blanket, Ryan had waited in line for three hours at Disney to buy for me. Sometimes I'd feel I was too much of a princess, but he'd just smile and say, "Ann is a treasure sent by heaven out of pity for me." "Aren't treasures meant to be spoiled?" Just then, Ryan's exclusive ringtone sounded. As soon as I answered, his urgent voice came through: "Honey, the chef put shrimp paste in today's pasta. Don't eat it." "I just saw the new menu details." "Either give it to your sister or throw it away~ Hubby will take you out for something delicious tonight, okay?" Listening to his usual tender instructions, a wave of bitterness surged. My throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton. I mumbled, "Okay." After the call, my sister, with a teasing look, pulled the pasta toward herself. "Your husband certainly remembers everything, even checking again after ordering takeout." "You're telling me this Ryan cheated? I don't believe it." I remained silent, my heart a mix of emotions. Ever since I had that mild seafood allergy and broke out in a rash. Ryan was so worried he didn't close his eyes all night, staying with me as I got an IV drip. His eyes were red: "Honey, I'll absolutely check your food carefully from now on." Now, he certainly kept that promise. But the next second, the last takeout box "snapped" open. Inside was a steamed egg, generously sprinkled with chopped scallions. My hand froze. "Huh? 'Steamed egg with extra scallions: My wife likes it.' Ann, don't you hate scallions in steamed eggs?" My sister, holding the order slip, saw my expression. Her face also began to grow serious. "So, he really has another wife out there?" Meticulous as Ryan was, he had never given me even one steamed egg with scallions. Combined with what Ryan said last night. I sat numbly on the sofa, an unnamed bitterness creeping through my entire body. After a long while, I finally managed a self-deprecating smile. "Yes. Ryan, he definitely cheated." My fiancé, not only hugged other women, but also meticulously ordered meals for her. These things used to be exclusively mine. So, that woman is tall and loves scallions, is that it? I decisively grabbed my car keys and walked out. "Sis, I'm going to Ryan's company." I wanted to see what kind of woman could steal the Ryan who had loved me for six years. 2 I had considered countless possibilities. The woman could be a secretary looking to climb the ladder, a pure and innocent intern, or even some social climber trying to hook into the Sterling family. But none of them were true. Ryan had been on set recently, shooting a company promotional video. When I stormed in, I only needed one glance at the woman. And just like that, I completely felt that Ryan and I were truly over. Ms. Evelyn Grant, 5'9", with wavy hair. She was the female model for the promotional video. To be precise, she was a disabled female model. Her left calf was fitted with a prosthetic leg. And Ryan's deceased mother was also a disabled woman. Being an illegitimate son in the Sterling family, with a disabled mother, made his position precarious among his many siblings. The most frequent insult he heard as a child was: "Your mother is disabled, and you're a cripple too!" "Why should a person with physical deficiencies give birth to a child who competes with us?" His mother was not favored, and her child suffered greatly because of her. She eventually succumbed to depression, leaping from a 30-story building. Ryan once hated her for it: "If she was so fragile, she shouldn't have impulsively given birth to me." "Sometimes I feel that disabled people shouldn't have children." "They are destined to bear more burdens than ordinary people, and so are their children." But now, he had fallen in love with a woman who was also disabled. A man who had clearly suffered such profound pain, yet still uncontrollably fell in love. The tumultuous story behind it, even imagining it, felt like a thousand tiny needles piercing me. When I walked over, Ryan was surprised: "Ann, what are you doing here?" My gaze met Evelyn's, who was also sizing me up. "Just dropping by." To my surprise, Evelyn spoke up confidently: "This must be Mr. Sterling's fiancée, Ms. Grant, right?" "Hearing about you doesn't do you justice; you truly are a rare beauty. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Evelyn Grant, the main model for this promotional video." I realized, apart from that prosthetic limb. Evelyn was so sunny, confident, radiant, no different from an ordinary person. So, is it because of this, Ryan? Ryan avoided my gaze, looking somewhat agitated. Evelyn, wearing 4-inch heels, looked down at me. Her tone sounded wistful: "I truly envy Ms. Grant's height. You look so delicate and charming." "Unlike me, I'm a tall girl." I looked at her, almost standing shoulder to shoulder with 6'2" Ryan, and didn't miss a hint of provocation in her eyes. I smiled, said nothing, and went straight to Ryan's exclusive seat, crossing my arms. "You guys carry on with the shoot. I just came to watch." But during the shoot, something unexpected happened. The male model, who only needed to embrace Evelyn in the final scene, suddenly lost control, forcing a kiss on her. He roughly caressed her, howling, "Why are you playing hard to get? I like you so much, why can't you be with me!" "Ah!" In a few seconds, Evelyn's clothing was torn. A flash in my peripheral vision, and Ryan had already rushed over. He yanked the man up, landing a fierce punch that immediately drew blood. Everyone hastily pulled Evelyn away, wrapping a trembling blanket around her. Ryan's eyes were bloodshot, ignoring the man's pleas, "Stop, stop! I'm sorry!" "Thump! Thump! Thump!" Dull thuds echoed through the set. The man exuded a fierce aura, like an enraged lion. I had only seen him like this once before, that year when I protected him and other members of the Sterling family severely injured me with rocks. His knuckles were turning red, the male model's breathing grew weaker. But Ryan's punches were more violent with each strike. I couldn't stand it anymore and rushed forward to pull him back: "Ryan, that's enough!" 3 "Get lost! He deserves to die!" Ryan didn't see clearly and waved me away. By the time he realized, I had already fallen heavily to the ground. Both my palms were scraped raw. "Ann!" Ryan finally released the male model and hastily helped me up. I took a deep breath, a pang of sourness in my nose. The grit and dust of small stones pressing into my palms seemed to settle in my heart. He tried to help me to the side, but stopped abruptly when he heard Evelyn's soft sobs. Ryan clenched his fist, as if having made a decision. He said, "Ann, I'll accompany the model to the hospital for a check-up first. Then we'll wait for the police to file a report." His eyes kept darting towards Evelyn. As if he was about to rush over to her any second. Instantly, the stinging in my palms spread densely to my heart. Finally, I couldn't help but ask him, "Ryan, I'm hurt too." "There are so many other people below; do you really need to handle this personally?" "You even got into such a big fight over it. Do you know you represent the entire Sterling family!" No one knew better than I how difficult it had been for Ryan to get to this point. Over the years, his every move had been cautious. But look at him now: A bloody scratch on his face, damp strands of hair plastered to his temples from anger, the lingering redness in the corners of his eyes. This was no longer the composed Mr. Sterling I knew. I practically roared, my chest heaving violently. It drew frequent glances from the staff. My fiancé, the man I'd loved for six years, was now so concerned about another woman. How could I not be angry, how could I not hate! But Ryan just let out a heavy sigh, his voice weary: "Ann, you need to understand, this is sexual assault." "Evelyn was harmed while working, and as her boss, I can't leave." "This isn't a small matter." He looked at me with a warning in his eyes. At this point, what more was there to say? My shoulders slumped. I watched him rush to that woman with a look of relief. He murmured soft words of concern. When my sister came to pick me up, that's how lost and distraught she found me. As soon as the car drove away from the set, my phone's notifications exploded. The hashtag #SterlingCEOBeatsUpAssaulterOnSet was prominently displayed. Clicking on it, all I saw were high-definition photos of Ryan protecting Evelyn, throwing punches, and finally, carefully wrapping his jacket around her. The comment section was boiling: [Mr. Sterling is so manly! So responsible!] [The boss personally steps in to protect an employee, overflowing with a sense of security!] [Am I the only one who thinks Mr. Sterling and the model sister are a perfect match?] [Both are tall and have great figures, they could be on a magazine cover with just a change of clothes.] [Business mogul × beautiful, strong, and tragic disabled model, I'm absolutely obsessed!] [Get married, get married on the spot!] My fingertips scrolled coldly over those glaring "perfect match" comments. An inconspicuous comment included a screenshot: [Link to @Evelyn'sSecretGarden for a surprise!] On a whim, I clicked it. It was a newly registered anonymous account, not much content. The latest post was yesterday: [He praised my bravery today.] The accompanying picture showed a bony, well-defined hand offering a hot drink. The watch on that wrist was clearly the birthday gift I had bought for Ryan last year, bidding $8.88 million for it at an auction. It even had our names engraved on it. Scrolling further back: [Rehab is painful, but thinking of him saying 'imperfection is also beauty,' I found strength again.] The accompanying picture showed a man applying prosthetic care oil to her, an intimate gesture. Next to it was a hand cream, the woody scent I had specifically bought for him. My heart felt like it was gripped by an icy hand, the suffocating sensation magnified infinitely. All that tenderness and consideration, it had silently seeped into another person. Late at night, a sound came from the entryway. Ryan paused when he saw me: "Ann? Why are the lights off?" I held up my phone, the screen light illuminating my pale face. "Ryan, explain yourself." "This 'Evelyn's Secret Garden,' whose story does it tell, yours and whose?" 4 Ryan's face stiffened. He strode closer, his voice taut: "Ann, it's not what you think." I abruptly pulled my hand back, my smile strained. "Not what?" I pointed at the photos. "The watch, the cufflinks, the hand cream – they're all things I gave you! You're using my things and telling another woman 'imperfection is also beauty'?" Bitterness welled up in my eyes, which I fiercely held back. He crouched down to my eye level, his gaze gentle and pleading: "Evelyn was startled. She's disabled, she's been through a lot of pain. I'm just showing concern and encouragement as her boss. Those words were to comfort her, not to make her feel inferior." He tried to touch me, but I pulled away. "Concern to the point of personally giving her hot drinks, applying her prosthetic oil, praising her bravery?" My voice trembled. "That comment about me being tiny, were you comparing me to her then too? How disgusting!" "Ann!" Ryan's voice abruptly rose, filled with anguish. "I never thought that! You are unique!" He took a deep breath, his tone humble, "Honey, I admit I felt more sympathy for her. She reminded me of my mother... but I swear, I never crossed the line! Don't you know where my heart lies?" I bit my lip, silent, tears silently streaming down. He hated it when I cried, his expression stung. He finally got up and brought over a heavy wooden box. "I intended to give it to you at the wedding." He knelt on one knee and opened it. Inside wasn't jewelry, but many smooth, warm small wooden carvings: little rabbits, deer, pavilions, spires... "Do you remember your grandfather always used little wooden carvings to coax you," he picked them up one by one, recounting their stories. "This panda is the one you said you wanted in Chengdu; this conch is the one you picked up in Sanya..." There were 52 in total, corresponding to places he traveled for business and places we visited, holding all my casually mentioned preferences. "You said when your grandfather passed, no one would coax you with woodwork anymore." He looked up, his eyes reflecting my tears, and solemnly said: "Ann, your grandfather isn't here anymore, but I will stay here, using the ways he once made you happy, to continue loving you." This gesture fiercely struck my crumbling defenses. He actually remembered everything. I wavered. Could Evelyn really just be a projection of his mother to him? Finally, I nodded: "Ryan, I believe you, but you have to promise me. No more contact with Evelyn outside of work." Ryan hugged me tightly: "Okay, I promise you, honey. I swear." He kissed away my tears repeatedly, gently coaxing me. That night, I messaged my sister: [Sis, I've decided to trust Ryan one more time.] Ryan truly kept his promise, not only publicly clarifying: [Ms. Evelyn Grant and I do not have the relationship speculated. My wedding with my fiancée will be held in three days, and I hope for everyone's blessings~] The accompanying picture was of him and me, fingers intertwined. The comments section was filled with blessings; those match-making, shipping comments were gone. He even completely delegated future promotional video work to his subordinates. From then on, Evelyn completely vanished from our lives. I thought everything would return to normal. Until the night before the wedding, when I needed to use the study computer. I accidentally saw a folder deep within the files named "EH." Instinctively, I thought of Evelyn Grant. My lips even trembled. It was an encrypted file. I tried my birthday and his, both were wrong. Ryan was someone who didn't like complicated passwords. Evelyn's first tweet on her private account flashed through my mind: [June 28th, my first encounter with him.] 0628. "Dingdong" password correct. My heart plummeted. Inside, there was actually a video. My lover of six years, intimately entangled with Evelyn. The dialogue pierced my ears like venomous snakes: [Ryan, why are you recording this?] [Evelyn, don't you like it? I'll treasure this video; Ann doesn't even get this kind of treatment.] [Only you, Evelyn. Only you. I love you.] I fiercely covered my mouth, a surge of tears welling up, which I forcefully suppressed. Ann, this is the last time you'll cry for Ryan. That night, Ryan returned from his business dinner, smelling of wine, and collapsed onto me: "Ann, we're getting married tomorrow. I'm so happy." "I love you so much, Ann." But I just stared at him, my fingers unhesitatingly sending that text message: [Sister, please add a little surprise to the wedding tomorrow.] The next day, the wedding venue was dreamlike and dazzling, making my eyes burn with happiness. Relatives greeted each other, their faces full of smiles. Ryan embraced me, emotionally, "Ann, I finally, finally married you. I'm so happy." I secretly let out a cold laugh. What a pity, it was all just a false illusion. The wedding photos on the big screen suddenly stopped, then abruptly went black. Ryan looked puzzled: "What's wrong with the screen? I'll go ask." However, the next second, the screen flashed with intimate scenes of Ryan and Evelyn intertwined, high-definition and uncensored. The woman's seductive cries reached everyone's ears, and that line: [Ryan, I love you so much.]
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