Lifelong Joy Is All I Want

1 At my twenty-fourth birthday gala, I searched for Marcus to start the dance. Outside the VIP lounge, I heard him tell Nate he’d spent five years humiliating me because he lost a bet to his childhood friend Melody. They agreed to make me a fool for six years running. Today marked the sixth. Next year, he’d propose, he said. He fingered the deep blue tie I’d embroidered through sleepless nights, smiling. “I’ll give this to Melody’s golden retriever, Duke. It’ll make her laugh.” Nate gaped. Marcus shrugged, voice thick with indulgence. “If I don’t humor her, our little princess throws tantrums.” I walked away. Grandfather’s warning echoed: a Kingsley heir gets five chances at love’s weakness. This was year six. The tie meant for my fiancé would hang on a dog’s collar. The engagement was over. … Ten minutes later, the gala began. I stood at the top of the grand spiral staircase, the moonlight-white gown hugging my curves. Marcus sat at the head table, flanked by Melody, who wore a striking, attention-grabbing red dress. A golden retriever trotted excitedly around their feet. "Here, Duke," Marcus called, snapping his fingers. The dog trotted over, wagging its tail. Under the watchful eyes of the entire room, Marcus untied the deep blue silk from his neck and fastened it around the golden retriever's neck, tying a neat Windsor knot. Everyone in the ballroom recognized that tie. It was our engagement token, the silk bearing the patterns I had painstakingly stitched by hand. "He looks beautiful," Melody giggled, leaning her head onto Marcus's shoulder. "Marcus, doesn't he look like a proper little gentleman now?" "He does," Marcus murmured, patting the dog's head with a soft smile. Then, his gaze drifted up, cutting through the crowd to land on me. In the past, clueless of the truth, I would have thrown a fit and demanded answers from Melody. Marcus would then scold me in front of everyone for being immature, and the night would end with me swallowing my pride and apologizing. But now that I knew who the real puppet master was, the anger vanished. I stared at the blue tie. Taking a deep breath, I gathered the train of my gown and stepped down the stairs, the sharp clicks of my heels echoing off the marble floor. The crowd parted, carving a path for me. I walked straight up to Marcus. Melody shrank back, playing the terrified victim as she hid behind him. Marcus frowned immediately, shifting his weight forward to shield her. "Vivian, it's your birthday. Don't make a scene," he warned, his voice low and threatening. I ignored him entirely, my eyes lingering on the golden retriever. "That color suits him," I remarked, my voice smooth and level. "It matches his coat perfectly." Marcus froze. Melody's smug smile stiffened on her face. "What did you say?" Marcus growled. "I said it looks good on him." I reached out, lifting a glass of red wine from a passing waiter's tray. I raised it toward him in a mock toast. "Since you have such unique tastes, Marcus, consider the tie my official gift to the dog." Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked toward the VIP table. Behind me, a chair scraped violently against the floor. "Vivian! Stop right there!" Marcus roared. I didn't even pause. I had already exhausted every ounce of patience my grandfather had allowed me. He had thrown my six-year token to a beast. And with that, our six-year engagement was dead. After the gala, I returned to the downtown penthouse where Marcus lived. It was a property my family had bought as our future marital home, but he had been staying there rent-free. I began gathering my files scattered on the coffee table, preparing to move out. The heavy front door swung open. Marcus stormed in, reeking of alcohol and the cloying gardenia perfume that Melody always wore. His face was a mask of fury. Ripping open his collar, he threw his jacket onto the sofa. "What the hell was that attitude at the party tonight?" he demanded, stepping into my space and blocking the light from the chandelier. I slipped the last folder into my leather briefcase and clicked the brass locks shut. "No attitude. Just stating the obvious." "Stating the obvious?" he sneered. "Melody was just having some harmless fun. She thought the dog looked cute. Did you really have to humiliate her in front of everyone?" He lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply. "Do you have any idea how long she cried tonight? She blames herself. She thinks she ruined your birthday." I looked up at him. "Marcus, it was my birthday." "So what?" He blew a cloud of smoke into my face. "You're the Kingsley heiress. You have everything. Melody has no one but me. I was just trying to put a smile on her face, and you couldn't even tolerate that?" Melody slipped through the door, wearing one of Marcus's oversized button-down shirts. Her eyes were red and watery. "Marcus, please don't fight with Vivian because of me," she whispered, tugging gently on his sleeve. "It's all my fault. I shouldn't have said the tie was pretty. I've just never seen anything so beautiful before. I got carried away." Marcus immediately clasped her hand, his eyes turning frigid as he glared at me. "Do you hear her, Vivian? Even now, she's thinking of you." I stared at their intertwined fingers. Six years of devotion, reduced to a cheap farce. "There's a dozen more of those ties in the hallway cabinet," I said quietly. "Take them all. In fact, you can keep the penthouse, too. Consider it your new home." Marcus blinked, then let out a harsh laugh. "Are we playing the runaway game again, Vivian? Let me remind you, the last time you packed your bags, you came back crying, begging me to take you back." Melody bowed her head, a triumphant smirk slipping onto her lips where Marcus couldn't see. "Vivian, please don't be mad. I'll leave right now..." She made a show of rushing toward the door, deliberately clipping her hip against the corner of the heavy wooden coffee table as she passed. "Ah!" she cried out in pain, collapsing perfectly into Marcus's waiting arms. He caught her, whirling around to bark at me, "Why did you pull the table so far out? Did you do that on purpose?" That mahogany table hadn't been moved an inch since the day we bought it. I didn't bother correcting him. Marcus carefully carried Melody to the sofa, rolling up her pant leg to examine her knee. There was barely a faint pink mark. "I'll grab some ointment," he said, pushing past me. As he went, his shoulder slammed hard into mine. The impact was violent. Balanced on thin heels, my ankle buckled, throwing me off balance. I crashed sideways into the sharp edge of the display cabinet. A white-hot flash of pain shot through my skull. Something warm and wet began to trickle down my temple, blurring my vision with red. Crimson droplets splattered against the hardwood floor. Marcus paused and glanced back, his brow furrowing. "Stop being so dramatic," he scoffed. "It was a tiny nudge. You expect me to believe you're bleeding? Go get Melody an ice pack. Her leg is more important." I cupped my forehead, feeling the hot blood seep through my fingers. Over on the couch, Melody watched me, her eyes gleaming with unspoken triumph. I gripped the cabinet to steady my trembling legs and stood up. I didn't look at either of them. Grabbing my briefcase, I walked out into the night. The freezing midnight wind whipped against my face. He had no idea that with that blow, he had severed the last thread connecting him to the Kingsley family. The next morning, I sat at the head of the boardroom table on the top floor of the Kingsley headquarters, a clean white bandage taped over my temple. The heavy double doors swung open, and Marcus strolled in, followed closely by Melody, who clutched a stack of folders. Marcus was the general manager of our subsidiary branch, and Melody was his personal assistant. Seeing the bandage on my head, he hesitated for a fraction of a second. "What happened to you?" he asked, irritation clipping his words. I flipped open the quarterly report in front of me. "Let's begin, Marcus. Everyone's time is valuable." His expression darkened, but he took his seat across from me. Ten minutes into the presentation, Melody stepped forward to hand Marcus a fresh cup of coffee. Her hand slipped, and the scalding liquid splashed across the original financial audits resting on the table. "I'm so sorry, Marcus! It was an accident..." she squeaked, grabbing napkins as tears welled in her eyes. Marcus caught her wrist, his voice softening instantly. "It's fine. It's just paper. Don't burn yourself." He turned to me, his tone turning demanding. "Vivian, have your assistant print another copy." I clicked my pen shut, the sound sharp in the quiet room. "Marcus, that document was finalized by three different departments and bears the physical signatures of our international partners. It is the only legally binding copy we have. Digital backups exist, but they cannot replace the raw legal authority of the signed original." Marcus dismissed me with a wave of his hand. "Then have the team run the process again! Melody stayed up until midnight helping me compile these figures. She made a minor mistake. Show some understanding." The executives around the table kept their heads down, holding their breath. I leaned back, looking him dead in the eye. "Marcus, this is a corporate boardroom. Keep your personal life out of it." "Are you seriously targeting Melody again, Vivian?" Marcus slammed his hand onto the stained paper. "It's a single report. As my fiancée, can't you show a little grace?" Melody sniffled, stepping forward with her head hung low. "Ma'am, it's my fault. Please don't blame Marcus... I'll redo the files right now." She bent down to pick up the scattered papers, her body swaying as if she were about to faint. Marcus caught her by the waist, glaring at me with raw venom. "That is enough! Look at yourself, Vivian. Where is the elegance of a Kingsley heiress? Melody's health is delicate. If you stress her into an episode, you won't hear the end of it!" I reached out and pressed the intercom button. "Security to the executive boardroom, immediately." Marcus blinked, caught off guard. "What do you think you're doing?" "Melody is being terminated immediately for gross negligence and destruction of vital corporate property," I said as two burly security guards walked in. Then, my eyes locked onto Marcus. "As for you, Marcus, you have consistently failed to separate your personal interests from your professional duties. Effective immediately, you are suspended from all duties. Pack your things." Marcus let out a bitter, mocking laugh, pointing a finger at me. "Is this how low you'll go to force me to apologize, Vivian? Fine. I'm leaving. Let's see how your precious Southside development project moves forward without me!" He grabbed Melody's wrist. "Let's go." Melody glanced back over her shoulder, a tiny, venomous smile playing on her lips. At the doorway, Marcus paused, throwing a cold warning back at me. "When you finally learn how to be a proper fiancée, you can beg me to come back." The heavy mahogany doors slammed shut behind them. A dull ache throbbed beneath my bandage. I picked up the ruined documents and fed them into the paper shredder, the low hum filling the tense room. I flipped to the next item on the agenda. "Let's proceed with the meeting." Three days later, I stood in the sterile hallway of the municipal hospital's VIP wing. My grandfather’s chief cardiologist looked at me with a grim expression. "Ms. Kingsley, your grandfather's heart is failing. He needs emergency bypass surgery immediately. However, Dr. Harrison, the only specialist capable of this procedure, is currently attending a secure, military-sponsored medical conference upstate. All normal communications are blocked. The only way to get him here in time is via Marcus's private jet, which already has pre-approved flight clearances for that restricted airspace." I pulled out my phone, my fingers shaking violently as I dialed Marcus's number. The first call went straight to voicemail. The second rang out. On the third attempt, he finally answered. The background was filled with loud music and roaring crowds. "What do you want?" Marcus snapped, his voice tight with irritation. "Marcus, my grandfather is in cardiac arrest. He's in the operating room right now," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady. "I need your jet to fly Dr. Harrison back. I am begging you, please authorize it now." The line went quiet for a second. Then, Melody’s whiny voice echoed in the background. "Marcus, who is that? You promised we were going to watch the meteor shower tonight. If you let someone take the jet, we can't go... I've never seen a shooting star in my life." Marcus's voice softened as he whispered back, "Don't worry, sweetie. It's fine." When he spoke to me again, his voice was cold. "Vivian, stop it. This is getting pathetic." "I am not lying! He is in the ICU!" I cried, my composure fracturing. "The ICU? Last month you said his blood pressure was high. Last week you claimed you cut your hand slicing fruit just to get me to visit. You've used up your crying-wolf cards, Vivian." Marcus chuckled dryly. "I'm sick of your little dramas. Melody has never been on a private plane, and she’s never seen a meteor shower. I gave her my word I'd take her tonight. I'm not breaking a promise to her." "Marcus, a man is dying!" I screamed into the receiver. "That's enough," he cut me off. "If you want me to come home, just say so. Don't use your grandfather's health as a sick bargaining chip. I'm busy. I don't have time for your games." The line went dead.