I was diagnosed with terminal cancer. The day I received my biopsy results, I gave Sebastian his freedom and completely vanished from his world. But I undeniably had a talent for being a creep. My house was completely wired with my "eyes." 4K hidden cameras displayed Sebastian's every move to me with absolute, crystal-clear precision. I originally thought he would feel a massive weight lifted off his shoulders. Who would have known that the man who seemingly wished me dead would be kneeling in a church, praying to God, over and over again. Begging for me to live. 1 Sebastian Reed was dead broke. The first time I saw him, he was mixed in with a bunch of VIP bottle boys, wearing a washed-out, faded denim jacket. His hair had probably been messed with by the club's madam—sticking up like a hedgehog's quills, perfectly matching that stubborn face of his. He looked like he refused to bow to anyone. I liked him instantly. Lust is human nature, and Sebastian was blessed with a face that could make the angels jealous. But when God opened a window for him, He slammed the door shut. Back then, Sebastian was so poor he ate stale bread and watered-down soup for three meals a day. He was so thin a gust of wind could knock him over. His shoulder blades jutted out in a sharp, lonely arc. From behind, he looked entirely desolate. I told the club owner that I wanted him. She flattered me while her eyes kept darting toward Sebastian, who was shuttling between the private booths as a busboy. "That kid is as stubborn as a mule, you know." "Then don't let him work here anymore starting recently," I said. Sebastian was a waiter at The Obsidian Room. Because of his striking looks, there were always people buying liquor from him, hoping to get something more intimate. Sebastian always accepted the sales but coldly rejected the ulterior motives of those older women. The Obsidian Room was the biggest private club in Manhattan. Every time I came here to discuss business, I saw him. He always had the same expression: lips pressed in a tight, grim line, eyes heavily drooping with exhaustion. He’d carry fruit platters or drinks, so busy his heels barely touched the ground. He never initiated a conversation with me. Once, after drinking way too much during a negotiation, I threw up violently outside the restrooms. I grabbed onto him blindly. "Give me a tissue," I demanded. Sebastian used his own handkerchief to wipe my mouth. His eyes flickered with a hint of emotion. "Drink less, miss." I narrowed my eyes. I felt truly wicked. After that day, I investigated Sebastian’s entire background. An orphan. A younger sister with a congenital heart defect. He was saving up for that astronomically expensive surgery, and I was the one who cut off his income stream. The club owner, following my instructions, no longer allowed him to sell alcohol, and simultaneously let the other bottle boys bully him mercilessly. I waited in silence for almost a week. When I stepped into The Obsidian Room again, Sebastian was being beaten by a group of guys. He lay on the floor, curled up like a shrimp, protecting his head while letting them kick and hurl insults at him. I pushed through the crowd, walked right up to Sebastian, and extended my hand to him. He swayed as he used the wall to stand up. He pushed my hand away and limped off. The owner smiled apologetically, "See? He’s got too much pride." Later, I tracked Sebastian down again. I opened a briefcase full of cash and spread it out in front of him. "Your sister’s surgery can't be delayed any longer. I can hire the best cardiovascular surgeons in the country." Sebastian stared at me, guarded. "Your terms." I felt a rush of absolute pleasure opening up every pore in my body. My long-dormant chest finally felt a heartbeat again in that moment. "I want you. As my kept man." Time flew, and eight years passed. Sebastian was now the man sharing my pillow, even if he was reluctant. He still kept a cold face most of the time. He turned a blind eye to my displays of affection. He used work as an excuse to stay at the office until dawn, by which time I was already fast asleep. I stirred my oatmeal, a dense wave of nausea rising in my chest. I was clearly starving, my lips trembling from hunger, yet the sight of food made me gag. My nose tickled. A warm liquid slid down, completely ruining the warm, sweet oatmeal. I wiped my nose. There was no panic. Sebastian used to say, "Victoria, sometimes I think you aren't even human." Neither of us had warm, passionate dispositions. Most of the time we spent together, we were handling our respective businesses. Only in the dead of night, when loneliness surged, would we embrace and collapse onto that massive bed, tangling together desperately, as if this was the only way to prove we weren't alone in the world. But I knew clearly that when we rolled in the sheets, when I was completely swept up in the heat of passion, Sebastian wasn’t that focused. It made sense. He was in his prime; how could he resign himself to being a sugar baby? He was a capable man. He had started his own trading company, which had been booming over the past two years. He would probably leave me soon. Before we got together, I sent Chloe Reed abroad. This younger sister—who shared no blood relation with him—was his only weakness. She was also the existence that made me wake up drenched in sweat in the middle of the night. It’s so cold. Even though it's the middle of summer. I wrapped myself in a blanket and texted Sebastian. "Come home for dinner tonight. I made your favorite cherry cobbler." There was no reply for a long time. It wasn't until noon that he stingily sent a few words. "Busy. No time." I looked out the window. The sun was glaring, wilting the roses in the garden. "You have to come back even if you're busy. Or I'll freeze your shipment." Sebastian finally compromised, stepping into the mansion exactly at six o'clock. I wanted to be softer, but after drowning in the corporate world for so long, my blood ran cold. I had long forgotten how to sweet-talk anyone. "CEO Reed is truly a busy man. Getting a dinner with you requires a waitlist." I curled my lips. My lipstick was too heavy. Sebastian frowned, pulled out a tissue, and wiped some of it off. "Aren't I here?" I chuckled dryly, poking him in the chest. "Don't think I don't know it's because Chloe is back. Eight years apart, you two siblings must have a lot of catching up to do." Sebastian looked like he was getting angry, but his moods never dictated my actions. His anger toward me was like punching cotton; it vanished without even bouncing back. He walked into the kitchen and brought the dishes out one by one. "Let's eat." I chewed my salmon slowly, afraid to blink, terrified the tears would fall. I said, "Sebastian, let's break up." 2 Sebastian’s hand holding the chopsticks paused. He cast a confused glance at me. He knew it. I loved him to the bone. How could I let go so easily? How many nights had I stroked his broad back, calling his name over and over again? Yet all he left me was a stubborn, cold silhouette. I would dig my fingers into his dark hair, pulling his head back almost sadistically, reminding him how to please his benefactor. I wasn't always so good-tempered, but I would watch with a smiling face as he rejected me time and time again. Sebastian kept his back to me. My boiling blood went ice-cold again. Then, I let go and weakly wrapped the blanket around myself. In our eight years together, I had mentioned breaking up many times. But without exception, within a week, a black Maybach would park squarely in front of Sebastian’s company at exactly 8:00 AM. Rolling down the window, I would stare at his expressionless face and curl my lips. He only knew that I crushed his dignity, but he didn't know how many times I had thrown my own into the dirt, stripping myself of all pride. "What crazy fit are you having now?" I let out a low laugh, staring blankly at the plump grains of white rice in front of me. I probably wouldn't be able to eat this much longer. "I'm serious this time." I looked at Sebastian. He still wore a stern expression, as if looking at a clown using despicable tricks to garner a sliver of attention, stingily offering a drop of pity. "My luggage is already packed. I'll be moving out tonight." Sebastian finally reacted. His brows twitched slightly, and even those usually calm eyes widened a bit. "Congratulations, Sebastian. You're free." I walked up to him, bent down, and whispered softly, "When you and Chloe get married, I'll send a fat check." Sebastian stayed frozen in place. "Take care." I heard the suppressed voice squeezed from his throat. Chloe moved in. I had seen her once a long time ago. Back then, Chloe had a sallow complexion, so emaciated she looked like a skeleton draped in skin. Her eyes, which should have been bright for a teenager, were dead and dull. Only when she saw Sebastian would they spark with life. She would hug him, affectionately calling him her brother. She was only eighteen, yet even on the brink of death, she was breathtakingly beautiful. It was a delicate, pure kind of beauty that made people instinctively want to protect her. I would never have that aura in my life. While Chloe was half-dead on an IV drip, I was ruthlessly slaughtering my competition in the business world. For the sake of a resort project, I forcibly demolished a whole neighborhood. The compensation was ruthlessly low, and many cursed me to die a horrible death behind my back. But Sebastian never called me cold-blooded; he was exactly the same as me. We were the same kind of people. How could he fall for a little white flower like Chloe? Now, I truly was dying a horrible death. The footage from the pinhole camera was exceptionally clear. Chloe was curled up on my favorite velvet sofa. Sebastian had washed a bowl of strawberries for her, carefully removing the stems, picking the reddest ones, and feeding them to her one by one. I was a little upset. Chloe didn't even take her shoes off. The soles of her pointed boots stepped on the blue sofa, leaving deep indentations. That was one of the few places where Sebastian and I shared a beautiful memory. I had a terrible flu back then, my head spinning. Sebastian held me, patiently coaxing me to take my medicine, even humming some nameless lullaby while watching me fall asleep. I suppose men like Sebastian were naturally drawn to gentle, delicate women. They were strong enough and needed someone to lean on their shoulders, not a woman who dominated him at every turn, a woman who wore lipstick the color of fresh blood. Chloe said she didn't like this sofa. Sebastian probably thought I might swoop back in a week, so he hesitated for a moment. "I'll take you furniture shopping in a few days." Chloe smiled sweetly. "You're the best, Sebastian." Arthur Sterling pushed the door open to find me still staring intently at the computer screen. On the screen, Sebastian had just stepped out of the shower, water dripping from his hair, his perfect physique enough to make anyone scream. He instinctively reached for the water glass on the nightstand, but it was empty. I wasn't there anymore, which meant no one was placing a fresh glass of water by his bed for him to drink at any given moment. Not knowing what he was thinking, Sebastian angrily smashed the glass against the wall. Arthur called me a creep. "Are you sick? Spying on someone's life twenty-four hours a day?" I smiled. "It's more than that. I also have private investigators. I know his every move outside the house with absolute clarity." Arthur shivered. "Victoria, you really are a total psycho." I stopped talking. I had woven a web of love; he couldn't escape it. Sebastian would eventually realize that I had seeped into every detail of his life, while the Chloe in his heart had only left behind a seemingly beautiful shell. A steaming hot towel was pressed against my arm. After days of IVs, my arms were completely bruised. If they had to draw blood tomorrow, they might not even find a place to stick the needle in my battered veins. "Sis, why do this to yourself?" I looked closely at my younger brother. We shared the same father but different mothers. After his mother died of illness, our father had no choice but to bring him back to the Sterling estate. I had been very afraid for a time, fearing that half of the massive Sterling empire would be handed over to Arthur. I reached out and lifted his chin. He had clean, clear eyes, just like his mother. In his youth, I subtly tested the waters. When I found out he cared more about art than business, I resolutely sent him to Italy to study. Arthur was very grateful to me, and I breathed a sigh of relief. It was just that now I had summoned him back, because my illness was terminal. That drop of blood relation, once the thing I feared the most, had now become my most reliable shield. "Will you cry for me when I die?" Arthur froze, throwing the towel on the floor. "Can't you say something positive?" Seeing him so agitated actually made me somewhat happy. "But having only you isn't enough. If I really die, my widow must be the one crying the most agonizingly." Arthur was speechless. He could only comfort me. "You'll get better." In the middle of the night, Sebastian finally got up to get a glass of water from the kitchen. There was no soup simmering in the slow cooker. Without the faint aroma to grace it, the kitchen lacked the warmth of human life. It was so cold and desolate it was frightening. Sebastian pursed his lips and started washing rice to make porridge. He hadn't done this kind of thing in a long time, naturally out of practice. He added too much water, and when he woke up the next day, it had boiled over onto the floor. He woke up earlier than Chloe, so he scooped a bowl and placed it on the table. But by the time he got off work that evening, the bowl of porridge was still sitting there, completely untouched. The house was pitch black. No one would ever lazily glance at the kitchen and tell him to wash his hands and eat again. Sebastian took a deep breath and dialed Chloe’s number. The sound of deafening club music filled his ear, Chloe's words slurred and indistinct. He tried hard to maintain a gentle tone. "Where are you, Chloe? I'll come pick you up." I closed my laptop and called Sebastian's business partners. "There's no need to provide cargo ships for Apex Trading anymore. I need to handle the spare parts on my end urgently." With Sebastian's capabilities, these things wouldn't crush him, but they would definitely keep him extremely busy. Only then would he discover how many obstacles I had secretly smoothed over for him, how many roads I had paved. A round-faced young nurse gently reminded me not to wear makeup. I touched my face. There was barely any flesh left on it. This was my armor. My battle standard that maintained my dignity. How could I take it off so easily? Victoria Sterling. How could I ever allow myself to show vulnerability? I had always been strong. "Have you found a matching donor in the bone marrow registry?" "Not yet, but don't lose heart. You will definitely get better." I wanted to get better. I wanted to hear Sebastian say he loved me. And if I died, I wanted him to remember me for the rest of his life. 3 Sebastian had been very busy lately, not just with his company, but with Chloe. He had no idea when this formerly pure, innocent younger sister had become so extravagant and corrupted. She would stand arrogantly in luxury boutiques, pointing at a row of new arrivals with half-closed eyes, demanding them all. Then she’d hop into a cab and head to the loud, chaotic bars. The neon lights flashed relentlessly, casting bizarre shadows in the steel fortress of the city. She swayed to the music, shaking an expensive cocktail in her hand, her eyes narrowed like a lazy cat's. Sebastian would watch her coldly, dragging her out of the hyperactive crowd. He shoved Chloe into the bathtub, the cold water making her cough violently. "Sebastian!" She let out a short, piercing scream. Sebastian finally snapped out of his daze and said in an unquestionable tone, "I'm cutting off your cards starting tomorrow." Chloe licked her lips, seemingly unbothered. "Whatever. The money you transfer me every month isn't that much anyway. It's all the money that old woman gave me." She draped her arms over the edge of the tub, as if remembering something amusing, her eyes curving into crescents. "People say she's an iron lady, but she's really just a pathetic wretch. You definitely don't know how she talked to me—as if she was my sister-in-law. Nagging me to take care of myself, wiring money to my account right on time every month. She even begged me to put in a good word for her with you. It's so hilarious." She waved her hand in disgust and cursed, "Disgusting." Slap. Sebastian struck her across the face. This man was always very quiet when he was angry. He was never a man of many words anyway, always surrounded by a low-pressure aura. Even more so when he was furious—his eyes would just dead-lock onto a specific spot. After slapping her, Sebastian's hand trembled. He sobered up instantly when he saw Chloe's swollen cheek. He patiently tried to comfort her, his broad palm patting Chloe's thin back gently. But anyone could see his mind was elsewhere. Except for me. Sebastian's gaze landed on a corner of the bathroom, where a lonely little rubber duck sat. I went through a childish phase for a while, buying lots of rubber ducks to put in the tub while bathing. Inside the rubber ducks were bath bombs. Orange scented. It was a scent Sebastian rarely admitted he liked. He always said my perfume smelled like a morgue. We had a huge fight about it later. I threw all the rubber ducks away, leaving only one over the drain, which made that bare spot look a little more pleasing to the eye. Sebastian returned to a lonely, empty room. The bed was ice-cold. There was no human-shaped heater. Lost in thought, he opened his laptop and aimlessly browsed the web until he finally fell asleep in the early hours of the morning. I guessed he had forgotten the URL. On my birthday one year, I enthusiastically coded a webpage myself. I wrote a lot of cheesy things and added his favorite songs as background music, giving it to him as a gift. Back then, Sebastian merely cast a cold glance at it and ignored it. Relying on fragments of memory, of course he couldn't remember it. I pursed my lips. The liquid medicine was bitter. Sebastian definitely didn't know that I had deleted that webpage long ago, but I left a screenshot of it on his computer. I wanted him to slowly discover it. I wanted him to be engulfed by my love like a tidal wave. The cross-border corporate deal couldn't be delayed, but the original shipping partner suddenly pulled their cargo vessels. Sebastian was stunned. The manager explained that they had originally been partners with the Sterling Group. Now that Sterling was pressing them tight, they had to prioritize their old patron. Sebastian was caught off guard. When Apex Trading was just starting, this logistics company had shown up at his door. Reliable service, fair prices. He wasn't entirely unaware that I might have pulled the strings behind the scenes, but the other party's attitude didn't seem like it. "We like helping young people with dreams." After all this time, it was my favor after all. This definitely frustrated Sebastian, because I had dominated him once again. Sebastian was displeased, knowing he couldn't truly stand shoulder to shoulder with me yet. But he kept smiling. People in the business world always flashed that standard, eight-tooth smile. "Please give my regards to CEO Sterling." The manager clicked his tongue. "The young CEO Sterling? He's too arrogant. Nowhere near as good as the old CEO." "The young CEO?" In Sebastian's impression, I was an absolute dictator. I would never allow others to covet the top seat at Sterling. Why was there suddenly a "young CEO"? The manager shook his head. "Not sure. Sounds like some kind of incident occurred, and she stepped back behind the scenes." Sebastian finally remembered that I hadn't contacted him in half a month. The man hesitated for a long time before dialing my number, but all he got was the robotic, formatted voice of the automated operator. "We're sorry, the number you have dialed is powered off." He didn't go to my company to find me. He just stood there for a very, very long time. 4 Sebastian found a job for his sister. Despite her reluctance, Chloe went to work, pouting all the way. With the company's crisis handled, his schedule suddenly opened up. Sebastian frequently sat on the couch, staring blankly. This lasted for about a week before he started rummaging through the house. When I left, I took a lot of things with me: matching mugs, photo albums. What remained were mostly old, small trinkets stuffed in unnoticeable corners. Sebastian turned the place upside down, wiping every corner with a rag. Then he piled all the things he dug up in the living room and looked at them closely, piece by piece. Many of them were things I bought for him. A ring he had only worn a few times. Sunglasses I bought him on vacation. A scarf I knitted for him in the winter—because it was my first time, it was uneven, wide at the top and narrow at the bottom. The stitches were crooked, looking a bit ridiculous. Sebastian had never worn it once. Now, holding that scarf, he wrapped it around his own neck, looked at his absurd reflection in the mirror, and laughed out loud. He found many memories of us. He, who was always awkward, who never wanted to honestly accept my love. Now, tearing himself open piece by piece, he finally realized that after eight long years together, he had long grown accustomed to my existence. Someone once said that when an old friend leaves, the first emotion you feel isn't sadness. You might not feel anything at all. But on a certain day, at a certain moment, when you see everything they left behind, you suddenly realize that you can never get them back. I didn't know what Sebastian was thinking. He put all those things into a cardboard box and dragged it into his bedroom. I guessed his heart must be very soft, despite his cold, hard exterior. He always wrapped himself in armor, a suit of steel that seemed indestructible. But what was hidden inside was more fragile than anything else. No one loved him like I did. Sebastian always threw himself onto the front lines to fight everything fate handed him. A poor family, parents dying early, a sickly sister, and the humiliating, twisted romance with me. He was like a turtle shrinking into its shell, simultaneously arrogant and inferior. Accepting fate while rejecting its gifts. Some people just refused to honestly face their own hearts. I traced my computer screen and laughed, unaware even when drops of nosebleed stained my snow-white sheets. Sebastian drove his car to my company. He waited quietly, waiting for me to get off work. Just like the countless times I waited for him to walk out of those glass doors and resign himself to getting in my car. Unfortunately, he wouldn't catch me. Arthur Sterling walked out, surrounded by a crowd, dressed in a sharp suit. The shot-caller at Sterling had changed. It was no longer the woman with cold eyes and a dismissive smirk. Sebastian was frozen. He stood perfectly still, watching Arthur get into my Maybach and drive away. That night, Sebastian blew up my phone. From 9:00 PM to midnight, without stopping. But all that came from the screen was a calm automated voice. He scrolled through our texts. Every message he sent sank like a stone in the ocean. Finally, Sebastian put the phone to his ear, clicked on the voice memos I had sent him, and listened to them all night. Chloe said he was crazy to like an old woman like me. She dragged that box of items to the door, intending to throw it in the trash. Sebastian wrestled with her. The box tore open, and the messy pile of trinkets scattered all over the floor. I watched on the screen as Sebastian gathered them into his arms, his shoulders shaking. He was crying. Chloe was crying too. She asked Sebastian: "Sebastian, didn't you love me the most?" The man lifted his head and touched Chloe's face. "We are siblings." Even without blood, you are still my sister. That is all. I breathed a sigh of relief. Sebastian actually didn't love Chloe. He had just been emotionally blackmailed for too long. The responsibility of having to take care of his sister made him lose himself, unable to distinguish between love and familial concern. That's why I sent Chloe away. Eight years was enough time to change a person, and enough time to forget someone. I said to Arthur: "Actually, I really like Chloe. Because people like her are extremely easy to deal with. She's weak, selfish, and has seen nothing of the world. She hates me on one hand, but is forced to rely on me on the other. She feels I defiled her brother, yet she cashes every check I send without hesitation, believing it's what I owe them." I smiled and swallowed a pill. "Don't be fooled by her harsh words; she's actually terrified of me. She knows that over these eight years, Sebastian's heart has only had room for me. There's no space left beside him for anyone else, even his once-closest sister." I looked at Arthur. His brows were tightly knit, looking somewhat severe. Finding a comfortable position, I laid back, feeling the pain in my chest ease slightly as I breathed. "Our dad had quite a few affairs out there. I'm not surprised I have a few younger siblings. But I didn't expect them to pop up the second I stepped down. What position does Donovan want?" "Chief Financial Officer." Arthur bit his lip, cursing him as a useless sack of wine and flesh with sheer disgust. I found it a bit funny. He was young after all; he couldn't keep his composure. "Give him whatever position he wants. If he wants to play, take him out to play. Money, power, alcohol, and women are knives that kill without spilling blood. You don't even need to strike; the things he can't control will turn around and kill him." I touched Arthur's face. He looked the most like our father, born with those captivating eyes. Unlike Arthur, however, our dad never showed such a lost expression; he was always confident. "After I die, Sterling Group will be handed over to you. Don't rush things. Indulgence and strictness are both management tactics. Pressing too hard will only make you lose your own assets." Arthur opened his mouth but said nothing. "You need to know, out of all these brothers and sisters, you're the only one I treat as my own." "But what if... what if the Sterling Group gets destroyed in my hands?" I closed my eyes, feeling exhausted, but still spoke sweet words. "You are my brother. I believe in you." The other party grabbed my hand and said okay. I knew he was grateful to me. In his most difficult years, I was the one who brought this boy to my side, telling everyone he was my younger brother, the young master of the Sterling family. He stepped from the mud into the clouds, from being spat upon to being in the spotlight. He loved art, so I sent him to the best art institute. He wanted love, so I brought him home-cooked meals through wind and rain. It was only because Arthur casually mentioned in a chat that other classmates had loving bento boxes. This was where I was smarter than his mother. She would only pinch the soft flesh under Arthur's clothes in dark corners with her sharp nails. I knew, but I never interfered. That was her resentment, Arthur's original sin, and he was meant to endure it. Arthur never spoke to me about these things. I was his older sister, his only sanctuary in the Sterling family. Under the club, wolves only rebel. Under the sun and rain, the brilliantly blooming flowers are much easier to control. This was my selfishness: grinding away Arthur's hatred, removing a rival for the inheritance. But now, everything had changed. This illness caught me off guard. The company I poured my heart and soul into for over a decade. The deals I secured by drinking until my stomach bled. Was I really willing to just hand it over to someone who had never managed a business? The illegitimate children popping up wasn't an accident. Arthur would also slowly realize that he couldn't control the entire Sterling empire alone. Only a strong alliance would work, and I was his best choice. "When Sebastian comes looking for you, remember to tell him I'm dead." "Huh?" Arthur was confused. "Didn't you have people tell him you just stepped behind the scenes?" "If there are no contradictions, how would he sense something is wrong and come looking for me?" I pulled the blanket up. "I'm so tired. I'm going to sleep. You should go back." Arthur didn't know how much patience I had, or how capable I was of setting traps. Nothing I wanted could escape—including this life.
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