1 In New York’s elite circles, everyone knew Erica Vance was devoted to me—despite her icy demeanor. Marrying her was seen as the Foster family’s blessing of the century. But at our engagement party, a call came from her childhood friend Johnny, who struggled with depression. “I can’t watch you marry someone else,” he whispered desperately. “Let me be your first husband.” I grabbed the phone, furious. “Have some self-respect.” Erica shoved me away. “He’s depressed—what if you trigger him?” Then Johnny threatened: “If you don’t come, I’ll kill myself.” Erica turned pale, ignored our guests, and ran out in her gown to his hotel. I became the city’s laughingstock. That night, I saw the photo Johnny sent—of them in bed together. I called Mr. Vance Sr., voice cold: “I’m not breaking the contract. The wedding proceeds in two weeks.” The hotel room was a disaster. The fabric of her engagement dress, torn to shreds, was strewn across the floor like confetti at a funeral. A garish crimson stain marred the white sheets. The air was thick with the cloying, metallic scent of sex, a smell so raw it made me want to gag. Erica glanced towards the bathroom, where the sound of the shower was running, and hissed at me in a low voice. "Johnny's still in the shower. Watch what you say when he comes out." Her brow was furrowed with blame. "If you hadn't said those things to him, he never would have had an episode! I just managed to calm him down. Don't you dare set him off again!" A bitter, humorless smile twisted my lips. "Does 'calming him down' involve fucking him in a hotel bed?!" I spat. "Erica, I never realized you were so completely shameless." Her face flushed a deep, angry red, and her voice shot up. "That's enough, Liam! Johnny has had a hard life. He's sick! Are you really going to pick a fight with a sick man?!" Just then, the water in the bathroom cut off. Johnny burst out, a single towel slung low on his hips. His chest was a canvas of fresh, angry-red hickeys. His voice was a trembling, wounded whisper. "Erica… why is he here?" I almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. "My fiancée runs out of our engagement party to shack up with another man. Why do you think I'm here?" "Shut up!" Erica snapped, cutting me off. "No! I don't want you to go, Erica!" Johnny immediately clung to her, burying his face in her chest like a child. "He's here to drag you back! I won't let you go back to him!" Erica sighed, a deep, weary sound, and stroked his hair with a tenderness I'd never seen. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay with you forever, Johnny, okay?" That gentle, doting tone… it was so foreign, it sent a chill straight to my heart. This wasn't the Erica I knew. She was always so reserved, so distant. Even five years ago, when she'd agreed to our families' merger and our subsequent marriage, her expression had been impassive. For five years, I had done everything to win her affection. I'd lit up the Hudson with fireworks for her birthday. I’d driven across the city in the middle of the night to bring her warm soup when her stomach ached. I’d even tolerated Johnny’s increasingly reckless stunts, like the times he’d “accidentally” totaled my brand-new Maybach in a fit of manic driving. I’d accepted it all, for her sake. Five long years, and she had finally, willingly, agreed to be my wife. But one phone call from Johnny had turned my five years of devotion into a pathetic joke. Seeing them about to tumble back into bed, I spoke, my voice sharp and cold. "The whole city is watching the Vance-Foster merger. The engagement party was a disaster. We need a story." Erica's body went rigid. Johnny, however, smirked with triumph. "What story do you need? She doesn't love you. Why are you forcing her? Her first husband was me! And if we ever have kids, they'll be mine, not yours!" Erica frantically clamped a hand over his mouth, her cheeks burning with a mixture of shame and fury. "Johnny, stop it!" I stared at the two of them, tangled together, my face an emotionless mask. "Fine. If you two are so inseparable, I'll grant you your wish. The engagement is off—" Before I could finish, Erica’s expression changed completely. She tore herself from Johnny’s arms. "Liam, I've always seen Johnny as a little brother. Don't misunderstand. I'll come back with you. This merger is too important to let a small misunderstanding ruin our families' harmony." I nearly choked on a laugh at her ridiculous excuse. "A 'small misunderstanding'? When you fled our engagement party, did you forget how important the merger was then? The Foster family name is mud all over town because of you!" I turned away, fighting to control the inferno raging in my chest. "Our families are in damage control right now. They sent me to get you. As for him," I gestured dismissively at Johnny, "the Vances have arranged for the country's top psychiatric team to meet him. If he's sick, he needs to get treated." With a flick of my wrist, several medics waiting outside the door entered the room. They quickly subdued the still-shouting Johnny and escorted him toward a waiting ambulance. His face was ashen as he screamed and struggled. "Erica! They're taking me! Help me!" Erica clutched at her dress, her knuckles white, but she didn't dare move a muscle. The room fell into a dead silence. She whipped her head around to face me and slapped me hard across the cheek. "I'm warning you, Liam Foster," she hissed, her voice dripping with venom. "If anything happens to Johnny, I'll hold you personally responsible." With that, she turned on her heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. I watched her go, the last embers of hope in my heart turning to cold ash. That night, the lights of the Vance estate burned bright. Erica knelt in the center of the grand living room, her eyes red-rimmed and defiant. Mr. Vance Sr., trembling with rage, brought his cane down hard on her back. "You disgraceful girl! How dare you pull a stunt like this?!" She flinched in pain but bit her lip and straightened her spine. A cold smile touched her lips as she shot back, "I did nothing wrong. If it weren't for me, today's headline would have been 'Foster Heir Drives Croft Scion to Suicide for Merger.' How would your precious family have handled that?" Her twisted logic was so outrageous I could only laugh. "So I should thank you for the horns you've so generously placed on my head?" Erica's chest heaved with indignation, but her voice was self-righteous. "I worked so hard to calm Johnny down! And what did you do? You had him thrown into a mental hospital! How could you be so cruel?" I looked at this woman I had once loved with everything I had, and a sharp, tearing pain spread through me. "Since you find me so cruel, Miss Vance, it would be foolish of me to impose any further. Let's cancel the wedding." I nodded to my lawyer, who stepped forward and laid out the original prenuptial agreement on the table. When I had agreed to this union, I had insisted on iron-clad penalty clauses. If I could raise her to the heavens, I could also ensure she had a long way to fall. The room fell silent. Erica's father swayed on his feet, nearly collapsing. "My dear Liam, surely you're joking!" I offered a bland smile, my voice devoid of any emotion. "Miss Vance was willing to abandon her own engagement for true love. Since she and Johnny have already consummated their relationship, why not let them marry? I would be doing them a favor." The color drained from Erica's face, leaving it a ghostly white. "Liam! I told you, I was saving his life! We're adults! Why are you making such a big deal out of this? It's disgusting!" "Silence!" Mr. Vance Sr. roared, his cane cracking against her back once more. Her words were like a dull blade twisting in my chest. Five years ago, I had gone to an old monastery on the outskirts of the city to pray for my ailing mother. On my way down the mountain, I saw Erica crouched before a small, injured stray cat, her face etched with concern. In that moment, I was struck by what I thought was pure, unadulterated kindness. So I saved the cat. And at her desperate pleading, I used all my resources to save the Vance Corporation from the brink of bankruptcy. But now, the tattered remains of her engagement dress mocked me, a silent testament to my own self-deception. The stalemate was thick with tension. Erica's parents looked like they were about to drop to their knees and beg. "Liam, Johnny's parents died when he was young. He's always seen Erica as an older sister! She just got confused this time, she did something foolish! But our families, our years of partnership…" Erica just scoffed, her eyes glinting with cold hatred. "First you blackmail me with our engagement, now you're threatening my parents with the company! Is that all you know, Liam? Pathetic, underhanded tactics?" A wave of pure rage washed over me, and I laughed. "Threats? Five years ago, who was it that came to me, begging me to marry their daughter? Who begged me to save a stray cat? And who knelt before me, pleading for me to save their company?" "You—" Erica began, trembling with fury. But she was cut off by the shrill ring of her phone. She listened for a moment, and her entire demeanor changed. She lunged at me, grabbing my collar, her eyes wild. "Johnny slit his wrists at the hospital! If anything happens to him, I'll burn your entire family to the ground!" She shoved me aside and ran for the door. The room descended into a tomb-like silence. Mr. Vance Sr. looked at me, his expression unreadable. "Liam, a word in my study." In the study, the old man seemed to have aged a decade, his back more stooped than ever. "Liam, I failed to raise my granddaughter properly. On behalf of the Vance family, I apologize." He took a deep breath, his tone shifting. "But the Foster and Vance enterprises are intertwined. We are two sides of the same coin. If one falls, the other suffers. The marriage must go on." … Half an hour later, I walked out of the Vance estate without a backward glance. The moment I got in my car, my phone began vibrating violently. I answered, my face a stone mask. "Liam Foster! Where are you?! Get your ass to City General Hospital right now!" Erica's voice was a shrill shriek, punctuated by the faint sound of Johnny's hysterical sobbing in the background. "Johnny would never have tried to kill himself if you hadn't provoked him! You have to come here and apologize to him personally! If you don't, I will hate you for the rest of my life!" I ended the call and started the engine. Some performances, you just have to see for yourself before you can truly let go. The hospital room was a stage. Johnny, clad in a patient's gown, had his head buried in the crook of Erica's neck. Her own clothes were disheveled, and a fresh constellation of hickies decorated her pale skin. When they saw me, there was no shame, no embarrassment. Instead, Johnny's provocations became even more blatant. "What took you so long? Erica, hurry up and tell him. You're mine. Everything about you is mine!" Erica looked at me, her chin held high, and spoke as if giving an order. "Can't you see how unstable he is? Apologize to him. Now." I let out a short, sharp laugh. "Apologize? For what? For interrupting you two lovebirds before you could screw again?" "Liam!" she shrieked, as if I had mortally wounded her. "Johnny is a patient! Can't you show a little compassion? What's so hard about swallowing your pride to give him some peace of mind?" Johnny immediately played along, his arms tightening around her waist. "Exactly! Don't be scared, Erica. Didn't your grandfather say it? The marriage is still on! From now on, you'll be Mrs. Foster in name, but your body and soul belong to me! He won't ever get to touch you!" A flicker of unease crossed Erica's face, but the words "the marriage is still on" clearly bolstered her confidence. "You heard him, Liam. The wedding is happening. But on my terms. You will apologize to Johnny, and you will agree to a few conditions." She smirked. "Otherwise, even after we're married, you won't touch a single hair on my head." "Oh?" I raised an eyebrow. "What conditions?" Thinking I had finally caved, her triumphant expression intensified. "First, you will transfer five percent of your personal shares to Johnny as compensation for his emotional distress. Second, that penthouse apartment of yours overlooking the river—it gets signed over to him. Third, your new limited-edition supercar—he likes it. Hand over the keys. Fourth…" The demands grew more ridiculous, more greedy, with each breath. I listened in silence, my heart slowly turning to a block of ice. Seeing my lack of response, she shoved me hard. "Stop playing dead! Did you hear the ten conditions I just listed or not?!" I was done arguing. I turned to leave. "Liam!" she screamed at my back, a raw, hysterical sound. "If you don't agree, I'll… I'll make sure the Foster line ends with you!" My footsteps paused. I didn't turn around. My voice was a frozen shard of sound. "I'll give it some thought." For the next two weeks, the city's elite circles were buzzing. The news that the Foster-Vance merger was deepening and the wedding would proceed as scheduled sent shockwaves through high society. At the same time, whispers of the younger Miss Vance's pre-wedding affair spread like wildfire in private conversations. Many were waiting, eager to see me made a fool. I ignored it all, focusing solely on the wedding preparations. Erica didn't contact me once. She and Johnny were too busy, carrying on their shameless affair at the hospital, getting themselves kicked out, and even getting photographed by the paparazzi. She was scrambling to kill the story. It wasn't until the night before the wedding that she sent me a single, magnanimous text. "Liam, I will marry you as promised tomorrow. But don't you forget the conditions you agreed to." I glanced at the message, deleted it, and turned off my phone. … On the day of the wedding, the city's elite gathered in force. A wall of media waited outside, their cameras like cannons ready to fire. The solemn wedding march began, and the grand doors of the cathedral swung open. At the end of the aisle, bathed in light, the bride walked toward me on her grandfather's arm. A subtle ripple of confusion and whispers moved through the guests. Soon, the officiant began the vows. "Liam Foster, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in—" Suddenly, a sharp, familiar voice cut through the sacred silence. Erica, her hair a mess, her wedding dress clutched in her fists, stormed onto the altar. When her eyes finally focused on the bride standing beside me, she froze, struck as if by lightning. A violent tremor ran through her body. "Liam, how could you!" she shrieked, her voice cracking. "I object! I, Erica Vance, am the bride today!"
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