My ex-husband regretted it after I left.

Back in my room, I locked the door behind me and leaned my back against the cold wooden panel, letting out a long breath. I raised a hand to press against my tightening temples, forcing myself to suppress the waves of grievance and pain surging inside me—what was past was past. Since I had already decided to leave for good, there was no point clinging to it anymore. I walked over to the desk and sat down, opening my laptop. The sound of my fingers tapping on the keyboard was steady and rhythmic. If I was truly going to say goodbye, then everything behind me had to be settled properly. My funds, properties, and shares—all of it needed to be sorted out and entrusted to a trust fund. I wouldn’t leave anyone with a “mess” they could gossip about later. Outside the window, the sunlight slowly slanted westward, fading from brilliant gold into a soft orange-pink before finally sinking beyond the horizon, leaving only a faint afterglow. I finally closed the laptop and rubbed my aching wrist. The documents on the desk were stacked neatly, every file organized precisely according to the trust fund’s requirements. I stood up and stretched my stiff neck, only then remembering the phone I had casually set aside earlier. The moment I picked it up, the screen lit up—a message from Vanessa Bennett, completely filling the chat window. “Clara, do you think this ring looks nice?” Nine photos followed, each one dripping with deliberate flaunting. The first photo showed a gradient evening gown. The pale blue skirt flowed in layered waves, like a sky soaked in sunset hues. Fine silver threads were embroidered along the hem, shimmering with restrained, classical elegance. I recognized it instantly—it was the piece I had fallen in love with at a haute couture show last year. Back then, Liam Foster had laughed and said he’d buy it for my birthday and take me to the annual charity gala in it. The second photo was a pair of custom diamond crystal heels, the surface densely inlaid with tiny diamonds that refracted dazzling light even through a still image. Their sheer luxury was unmistakable—so eye-catching that even paired with the couture gown, they would steal the spotlight. The last few photos showed Vanessa holding onto Liam’s arm as they stood before the mirror in the walk-in closet. On Vanessa’s finger was unmistakably the engagement ring that should have belonged to me. In the photos, she smiled sweetly, her eyes curved with happiness that practically overflowed as she leaned against Liam, their intimacy glaringly painful to look at. There was another follow-up message, deliberately sent by Vanessa: “Clara, I heard Liam say you spent half a month designing this engagement ring yourself, that every detail carried your hopes for a perfect marriage. Don’t you think it looks especially suitable on me? It feels like it was meant for me from the start.” My fingers paused briefly on the screen, a faint stab of pain passing through my chest—so light it almost felt like an illusion. I knew Vanessa’s intentions all too well. Sending these was partly to flaunt Liam’s favoritism, and partly to provoke me, to watch me lose control. If this were the past, seeing these would have sent my blood boiling. Even if it meant mutual destruction, I would have demanded an explanation. But now, my suitcase was already quietly more than half packed. I had only one month left before leaving. These people and these matters had long since become part of the past I needed to cut away. Expressionless, I tapped the screen without hesitation and replied with three words, as calmly as if I were talking about the weather: “Yeah. It’s pretty.” After sending it, I immediately muted Vanessa’s chat. I tossed the phone aside, washed up, and prepared to rest. I didn’t know how much time had passed when thirst woke me. I quietly went downstairs to get some water. Just as I reached the turn of the staircase, I heard a suppressed argument coming from the living room. It was Liam’s voice, tense and furious in a way I had never heard before—there was even a trace of lingering fear beneath it. “Who told you to go to that kind of shady drinking party? Do you have any idea that if I’d arrived just ten minutes later, you would’ve been drunk and sent into a guest room by those people?” Vanessa’s voice was thick with sobs, every word soaked in self-pity, her eyes brimming with tears as if she had suffered an unbearable injustice. “I didn’t want to go either… but the organizers said if I didn’t show up, it would affect my variety show opportunities. I can’t afford to lose this chance. I’m not like Sister Clara—even when scandals surrounded her, even when the entire internet cursed her, you still firmly chose to marry her and make her Mrs. Foster. She always had you backing her up.” She sniffed, her shoulders trembling slightly, her tone humble to the extreme. “But me? I’m just a helpless orphan. At the Bennett family, I have to read people’s faces. Outside, I get bullied too. Even if I were ruined… no one would care about me.” “Who says no one would care?” Liam’s Adam’s apple bobbed violently as the anger in his voice was instantly replaced by heartache. Suppressing the surge of emotion, his tone turned firm—almost obsessive. “As long as I’m here, I dare anyone to lay a finger on you.” Vanessa froze for a moment, then her eyes reddened even more. When she looked up at Liam, besides grievance, there was a barely concealed hint of triumph and reluctance. “But you’re my brother-in-law… From the first time I saw you, I liked you. I’ve been holding myself back all this time—I didn’t want to interfere with you and my sister, didn’t want to put you in a difficult position.” She probed cautiously, her voice light, yet sharp as a needle, stabbing straight toward the stairway where I stood frozen. “Would you… break up with my sister for me?” I stood there rigidly, my fingertips turning icy. I had clearly decided to let go. I had only one month left before escaping this cage. Yet hearing that question, my heart still felt like it was being tightly blocked, suffocatingly painful. What would he say? That he had long since lost all feelings for me? That Vanessa had always been the one in his heart? Otherwise, how could he have splashed filth on me time and time again? How could he have given all the tenderness and favor that belonged to me to someone else? How could he even destroy my reputation with his own hands just to protect Vanessa’s career? Suddenly, I found it absurd. A self-mocking smile tugged at the corner of my lips as I turned to leave quietly, unwilling to witness such a nauseating scene. But before I could take more than one step, I saw Liam reach out and carefully pull Vanessa into his arms, his voice gentler and firmer than ever before. “Vanessa, even if I marry Clara Bennett, I’ll still protect you for the rest of my life. No one will ever be able to bully you.” “Does that mean… as long as my sister agrees, I can stay by your side forever?” Vanessa suddenly looked up. The grievance in her eyes vanished instantly, replaced by naked triumph. My heart sank completely. I subconsciously stepped back half a pace, my foot accidentally bumping into the stair railing, producing a faint sound. That noise immediately alerted the two people in the living room. Vanessa turned her head. The moment she saw me, a flash of viciousness crossed her eyes. She quickly rushed to the table, grabbed the heavy celadon porcelain vase, and charged straight toward me. Bang— A dull impact rang out as the vase smashed hard against my forehead. Shards of porcelain scattered everywhere. Warm blood instantly streamed down my face, blurring my vision. I staggered backward, barely managing to steady myself by gripping the stair railing. I raised a hand to wipe the blood from my forehead. When I looked up again, I met Vanessa’s twisted, arrogant face. “Believe it or not, Sister,” she sneered smugly, her voice dripping with triumph. “Even if you died here today, Liam wouldn’t blame me for a single word—he’d be too busy feeling sorry for me.”

I woke up from a pain that drilled straight through my skull. A dull, throbbing ache at my temple mixed with a tearing sensation, and the moment I opened my eyes, tears surged up uncontrollably. The smell of disinfectant was strong—so strong it tightened my throat and made my stomach churn. Instinctively, I lifted a hand to press the wound at my forehead, but my wrist hadn’t even reached halfway before someone slammed it down. “Don’t move!” The nurse changing my dressing sounded urgent. Her fingers pressed on the IV in my wrist as she frowned. “Your line was just placed—if you move around, it’ll infiltrate. You got thirteen stitches on your forehead. The cut was deep. If you keep messing with it, it won’t heal well, and you’re going to scar.” My hand froze in midair, my gaze drifting slowly to the IV bag above my head. The clear liquid dripped down the tube at a slow, steady pace, carrying a chill with it. I parted my lips—my throat was so dry and raw that every word scraped painfully. “I… why am I in the hospital? Who brought me here?” The nurse cleared up the tray as she answered casually, “Your boyfriend brought you in. He said you two had a fight, you got emotional, and you hit your own head with a vase. It caused quite a commotion.” “He paid the hospital bill and left,” the nurse added, pausing briefly, her tone edged with helpless advice. “He said he had an urgent business engagement. He also specifically told me he hired a caregiver for you, so you can focus on healing. Honey, no matter how mad you get, you can’t gamble with your life. If that hit had been a little lower, your eye would’ve been in danger.” Hit my own head? My pupils shrank sharply. My fingertips turned ice-cold and started trembling—so much that even the fluid in the IV line felt like it had gone colder. Every word the nurse said hammered into my chest. I went cold all over, as if my blood had frozen solid. I let out a low laugh. The sound was full of bleakness. Tears slid down my cheeks and dropped onto the white fabric of my hospital gown, blooming into a small wet stain. So in his eyes, I was that kind of person—hysterical, unstable, pathetic? All those years he claimed to treasure me, to hold me like something precious—so it had all been fake. I was nothing more than a stepping-stone in the relationship between him and Vanessa Bennett, something that could be sacrificed at any moment. A ridiculous curiosity rose inside me: that “urgent business engagement” he mentioned… was he really by Vanessa’s side right now? Were the two of them leaning together on a couch at this very moment, him gently blowing on the tiny cut on her fingertip, saying the same sweet words he once said only to me? Enduring the stabbing pain in my forehead, I used my right hand—my free hand—to fumble for the phone on the bedside table. My fingers shook so badly that it took three tries for the fingerprint unlock to work. I didn’t look at any unread messages. I went straight to social media, and Vanessa’s newest post was right at the top. The caption was just one line, dripping with deliberate sweetness: “Even if I’m not a princess, I can still meet a knight who’ll protect me with everything he’s got~” Three photos were attached. In the first, Vanessa sat on a sofa at home, slightly pouting, her right fingertips extended with a cartoon Band-Aid stuck on them. The wound was so shallow it looked like a tiny red dot—almost invisible. In the second, Liam Foster knelt on one knee on the carpet, carefully cradling her hand as his brows knit tight, his eyes filled with pain and worry, as if she’d suffered some terrible injury. In the third, the two of them posed together. Vanessa leaned against Liam’s shoulder, smiling. Liam’s gaze stayed glued to her face—soft, tender, devoted. That look… had once belonged only to Clara Bennett. I recognized it at a glance. The cut on Vanessa’s fingertip was from yesterday—when she smashed the vase into my head, and a shard of porcelain had accidentally nicked her. I’d gotten thirteen stitches. Blood everywhere. I’d nearly died. And in his mouth, it became, “She hit her own head.” But Vanessa’s tiny scratch—this barely-there wound—was enough to make him panic and ache, as if he wanted to place the entire world at her feet. I stared at the screen, hard, until my fingertips turned white from the force and my knuckles creaked. The glow of the phone reflected in my reddened eyes. Every memory of being with Liam—every promise he’d made, every vow he’d sworn—stabbed into my heart like knives. It hurt so badly I couldn’t breathe. My throat tightened until it felt blocked, and I couldn’t even make a sound. I forced myself to breathe for a full half-minute before I finally swallowed down the choking lump in my throat. Then I opened my photo album and pulled up the surveillance footage from the villa’s living room—something I’d installed a while ago, just in case Vanessa tried anything. A hidden micro-camera tucked behind a decorative piece. On the video, Vanessa’s motion as she raised the vase and smashed it into me was crystal clear. So was her arrogant laugh afterward. Once I confirmed the evidence was complete, I dialed the police without hesitation. My voice was hoarse, but every word came out unmistakably clear. “Hello. I want to report an assault. Someone deliberately injured me, and I have complete surveillance footage as evidence.” In less than an hour, the hospital room door was shoved open violently—bang—slamming against the wall and shattering the silence. Liam walked in wearing a silver-gray suit, pressed perfectly flat. His shirt collar was buttoned, tie in place, hair combed immaculately—obviously he’d rushed over from some formal event. But there was not a trace of worry on his face. Only blame—thick, heavy, impossible to miss. The moment he stepped in, he barked at me, his voice low and harsh, full of impatience and anger. “Clara Bennett, are you out of your mind? Vanessa is your half-sister! It was just a small dispute between sisters, and you actually called the police to accuse her of intentional injury? Are you trying to ruin her?” “A small dispute?” I leaned against the headboard and slowly lifted my gaze to him. There was no retreat in my eyes—only a cold, dead stillness. I tugged at the corner of my mouth. The movement pulled at the wound on my forehead, sending pain flaring through my skull, yet I didn’t care. The sarcasm in my voice was impossible to hide. “She smashed a heavy celadon porcelain vase into my head. I needed thirteen stitches. I almost died. And you call that a small dispute? Liam Foster—how far does your heart have to tilt? In your eyes, is my life really worth less than one of her fingers?” Liam’s brows tightened further. His face darkened into something frightening, his tone hard and absolute. “This really was Vanessa being impulsive. I already said something to her, and I told her to message you and apologize. We’re family—we’ll see each other every day. If this goes to the police station, it’ll damage everyone’s reputation—especially yours. You just came out of that kind of scandal. If you blow this up, who would still want you?” He paused, then ordered as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You’re calling the police right now to withdraw the report. This ends here. I’ll have Vanessa come visit you more—consider it compensation.” “An apology? Compensation?” It was like I’d heard the funniest joke. I suddenly laughed out loud—sharp and shrill—echoing through the quiet hospital room like something breaking. I laughed until tears poured down my face, until my chest ached from it, and only then did I stop. I stared at Liam and asked, each word deliberate, cutting, unmistakable: “I got thirteen stitches. I almost died by her hand. And a light, casual apology is supposed to erase all of that? Liam Foster, tell me—who exactly is she to you? The little sister I’m supposed to ‘let win,’ or the person you protect at the tip of your heart? Your tenderness toward her, your coldness toward me—how could it be any more obvious?” Something in my words struck a nerve. A flicker of panic flashed through Liam’s eyes—too fast to hold onto—then anger swept over it. He stepped forward, looming over me, the disgust in his voice completely unhidden. “Don’t be ungrateful! I’m only taking care of Vanessa because of you. And instead of appreciating it, you’re maliciously twisting things and implying there’s something going on between us?” “Clara Bennett, how did you become like this? So vicious, so petty—clinging to the smallest thing! Where did the gentle, sensible you go?” “I’m vicious?” I clenched the bedsheet beneath me so hard my knuckles turned white, the fabric crumpling into a tight knot. The grievance, rage, and pain I’d held down for far too long finally exploded. I screamed until my throat burned, tears falling like broken pearls. “Liam Foster! You turned Vanessa Bennett’s explicit photos into mine, shoved me onto the chopping block of the entire internet, let them call me promiscuous, say I was sick, say I might have HIV—then you publicly ended our engagement. And you didn’t think that was vicious?” My voice shook with sobs, yet every word still landed clean and sharp, like a blade slicing through Liam’s hypocrisy. “For her, you threw filth on me for the ninth time, destroyed my reputation and my dignity—and you didn’t think that was vicious?!” I forced the words out through tears, my gaze burning into him. “If you cared about Vanessa Bennett that much, why did you get with me in the first place? What was I to you? A stepping-stone for your relationship with her? Or just some disposable entertainment when you were bored?” Liam looked as if he’d been punched. For a second, unease flashed across his face. He even took a half-step back, then forced himself to argue back, his voice no longer as firm as before. “I… I was with you because I loved you! If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t even bother with Vanessa!” He paused, as if suddenly coming up with a way to “make it up” to me. His tone softened, but it carried a lofty arrogance, as if he were granting me something. “I know you’ve suffered. I already called in favors and had the report withdrawn. You focus on healing. When you’re better, I’ll give you a grand wedding—consider it compensation.” As he said it, his chin lifted slightly, smugness filling his eyes—like that wedding was some enormous gift, enough to erase all his betrayal and damage, enough to make me fall into grateful tears. I looked at him like this, and my stomach twisted. The last lingering attachment I had to the past finally crumbled into ash. Back then, he used to trail after me, eyes bright, clinging to me with boyish excitement, promising he’d marry me after graduation, promising he’d give me the grandest wedding in the world so everyone could bless us. Back then, he sounded devout and sincere. He remembered the bouquets I loved, the dresses I liked. He would excitedly plan every detail with me as if giving me a wedding was the luckiest thing that could ever happen to him. But now, the wedding he once begged to give me had become a tool—something to dismiss me, something to “compensate” me with. ---

For several days in a row, Liam Foster didn’t set foot in the hospital even once. I didn’t care at all—in fact, I found it peaceful. Every day, I changed my dressings on time and focused on healing, my only hope fixed on the day I could be discharged—half a month more, and I’d be on a plane to a foreign country, leaving this city full of betrayal and hurt forever. But on the morning I was preparing to be discharged, the hospital room door was pushed open gently, and an unwelcome guest walked in. It was Vanessa Bennett. She carried a delicate food container in her hands. The arrogant, domineering look she usually wore was gone. Instead, she bit her lower lip lightly, her eyes rimmed red, looking fragile and pitiful. She tiptoed to my bedside, her voice soft like cotton. “Sister Clara, I know I was wrong before. This is chicken soup I made myself. Try some—just… just take it as me making amends. I hope you can forgive me.” I didn’t respond. I just stared at her coldly, because I knew Vanessa never showed kindness without a reason. Sure enough, Vanessa hesitated, rubbed her fingers together, and spoke carefully. “Um… the company wants to build me an ‘academic genius’ image lately, and you’ve won so many competition trophies before—it’s really convincing. Sister, could you lend me those trophies for a while? Just for a bit. I’ll return them after I finish filming the promotional materials.” Lend trophies? I almost laughed at how outrageous her request was. Those trophies were honors I’d earned after countless sleepless nights and endless practice problems. They were the only light left in my dark youth. I curled my lip, the mockery in my tone undisguised. “If you want to pretend you’re a genius, go earn it yourself. Or what—can’t pass, don’t have the ability, so you want to borrow someone else’s achievements to make yourself look good?” After saying that, I withdrew my gaze, turned around, and continued packing my things for discharge, not even bothering to look at Vanessa again. After being choked off like that to my face, the fragile expression on Vanessa’s face cracked for a split second. A flash of malice darted through her eyes. But she quickly pulled it back, stepped forward, and lifted the container toward me, her voice trembling with tears. “Sister, I’m only borrowing them, it’s not like I won’t give them back. How can you say that about me? I know you’re still angry, but I really need this opportunity…” I didn’t budge. I kept packing the items on the table. Seeing I wouldn’t take the bait, Vanessa’s eyes flicked sideways. She deliberately set the container at the edge of the table, leaving more than half of it hanging over the side. When she saw I still didn’t react, she hardened her heart and suddenly loosened her fingers. Clang— The container crashed to the floor. Scalding chicken soup splashed out instantly, spreading across the ground. The air filled with a rich, heavy aroma mixed with the sharp sound of porcelain shattering. Almost at the same time, the door was shoved open violently, and Liam rushed in. The first thing he saw was the mess on the floor—and Vanessa’s red-rimmed eyes. He strode over and immediately pulled her behind him, his voice packed with panic. “Vanessa, are you okay? Did it burn you?” Vanessa bit her lip. Tears fell like broken beads, but she didn’t say a single word—she only shook her head pitifully. Liam looked even more distressed. Without asking permission, he lifted her skirt hem, and when he saw the faint red mark on her calf, the pain in his eyes turned into fury in an instant. He whipped his head toward me, accusation in his voice sharp as an ice spike. “Clara Bennett! You’ve gone too far! Vanessa came here to apologize to you and bring you chicken soup—she’s done this much already. Why do you still have to make everything difficult for her?!” “I’m making things difficult for her?” I stopped packing, turned to face him, my chest rising and falling violently with anger—so furious I almost laughed. “She came to borrow my trophies. I said no. And that means I’m making things difficult for her? Liam Foster, just how far does your heart lean? It’s probably sunk into the Mariana Trench by now—so far you’ll never pull it back!” I pointed at the wreckage on the floor, my voice cold enough to freeze. “She dropped the chicken soup herself, and you come in here blaming me without even asking what happened? If you protect her so much, if you feel sorry for her so much, then just be with her already! Why keep coming to provoke me at all?!” I thought that even if Liam favored Vanessa, hearing those words would snap him into some kind of clarity. But instead, his anger burned hotter. The disgust in his eyes scraped across my face like a blade as he cursed me word by word. “Clara Bennett, stop twisting the truth! Vanessa is your half-sister. She’s been so good to you, and you treat her this viciously—doesn’t your conscience hurt?” “It’s just a few stupid trophies. You think they’re that precious?” His voice dripped with contempt. “Your reputation is already completely ruined anyway. The whole internet knows you’re a promiscuous slut—what use are those trophies to you? You might as well lend them to Vanessa. At least you’d be helping her!” The word “slut” was like a poisoned blade, stabbing straight through my heart. After saying that, Liam didn’t even look at how pale my face had gone, or how my body was trembling. He simply scooped Vanessa up in his arms and hurried toward the door, his voice urgent. “Vanessa, don’t be scared. I’m taking you to get it treated right now. It won’t scar.” The room fell silent in an instant, leaving only the spilled chicken soup and shattered porcelain on the floor. I stood there rigidly, as if every drop of blood in my body had frozen. Liam’s vicious insult echoed again and again in my head. I was a slut? After everything that had happened—my name destroyed, my reputation shattered, the whole internet spitting on me—wasn’t it all caused by him? He was the one who turned Vanessa’s explicit photos into mine. He was the one who publicly ended our engagement. He was the one who threw filth on me again and again. He was the one who personally pushed me into an irreversible abyss. And now he turned around and cursed me with the most vicious words? Liam Foster, you really are something. The crushing pain in my chest made it hard to breathe. And only then did I belatedly notice a burning pain spreading over my calf. I looked down. A large section of my pant leg was soaked in chicken soup. My skin had already blistered into a swollen red patch, and along the edges, tiny beads of blood were starting to seep out. I clenched my teeth, forcing down tears and pain. I bent over to pick up my luggage, limped out of the hospital room, and went to the emergency department downstairs alone to have the burn treated. By the time the wound was handled and I returned to that so-called “home,” it was already late at night. The moment I unlocked the front door with my key, my phone rang. It was the admissions office from the overseas school. The teacher on the other end asked gently, “Miss Bennett, hello. About housing after you enroll—would you like the school to arrange accommodations for you?” I paused, thought for a moment, then refused calmly. “No, thank you. I’ve already rented a place near the school in advance. I won’t need the school to arrange housing.” “Alright, then we won’t reserve a dorm for you. Wishing you the best.” After I hung up, I was just about to push the door open and step inside when Liam’s voice came from behind me, carrying a faint, barely perceptible confusion. “Renting? Renting what?” My movement stalled. I turned slowly, and there, not far away by the elevator, was Liam supporting Vanessa—clearly just returning.

My fingertips twitched, and I ended the call in my hand first. My gaze fell on their interlocked hands—Liam Foster’s palm tightly wrapped around Vanessa Bennett’s hand, intimate in a way that made my stomach turn. Even though I had long prepared myself, knowing he and I had already reached the end, my chest still felt like it was being pricked over and over by countless tiny needles, the pain sharp enough to steal my breath for a second. I lowered my eyes to hide the sting in them. After steadying my emotions, I looked up at them again, my tone flat, as if I were talking about something unimportant. “A friend asked me to help her rent a place. Why—do you have a house you’re trying to rent out?” Liam’s attitude toward me had been growing colder by the day—cold, even cutting. Even if I ever came back to this city in the future, I would never have anything to do with him again. So there was no reason to tell him I was about to go abroad. One more explanation would be one more unnecessary word. At my answer, Liam’s brows immediately knit together. There was scrutiny in his eyes. Before he could speak, Vanessa cut in first. “Sister, what are you saying? Isn’t your friend our friend too?” Vanessa leaned into Liam’s arms, her voice sweet to the point of cloying, but calculation glinted beneath her lashes. “I happen to have a one-bedroom apartment downtown. It’s empty anyway—do you want your friend to stay there first?” I didn’t respond. I only looked at her in silence. Liam’s face darkened even more. He stepped forward and blocked my way directly, anger practically spilling out of his voice. “Clara Bennett, and you still have the energy to worry about helping someone rent a place?” “Vanessa got burned because of you yesterday, and she still has red marks on her leg. How can you stand here so calmly?” His tone was rigid, leaving no room for argument. “You’d better apologize to Vanessa right now and beg her to forgive you. Otherwise, forget borrowing an apartment—don’t even think you’ll get a single opportunity from me, even if you pay to rent!” After that, he didn’t give me any chance to argue. With his arm around Vanessa’s waist, he strode into the villa, leaving only a cold, indifferent back behind him. I watched the flicker of smug triumph that flashed in Vanessa’s eyes when she looked back, and a self-mocking smile tugged at my mouth. I didn’t linger. I turned and went straight back to my room. The moment I shut the door, it felt like all the strength in my body had been drained. Early the next morning, not long after dawn, I got up. The moment I stepped out of my room, I caught the smell of breakfast drifting from the living room—Liam and Vanessa were sitting at the dining table eating, looking like some loving couple in a cozy domestic routine. Vanessa glanced at me and deliberately lifted a hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. As she moved, a patch of deep and shallow kiss marks across her neck was exposed completely. She stared at me with open provocation, her tone laced with smugness. “Sister, there seemed to be a lot of mosquitoes in the villa last night. I got bitten a bunch of times on my neck. Should we have the property management come over and handle it thoroughly?” Liam lifted his eyes and swept a glance over me. He didn’t say a word. He only picked up an elegant brocade box from the table and held it out to me, signaling for me to open it. I hesitated for a moment, but I still reached out and took the box. The instant I opened it, a translucent jade bangle came into view—smooth, luminous, its color like distant mountains softened by mist, quiet and refined, unmistakably expensive. I tugged at the corner of my mouth, a cold mockery curling on my lips. “To make me apologize, you really are willing to spend money.” Vanessa leaned in to glance at the bangle, and jealousy immediately colored her tone. She grabbed Liam’s arm and shook it lightly. “Liam, I didn’t realize your relationship with Sister Clara is this good. You even exchange such expensive gifts normally.” Guilt flashed across Liam’s eyes for a split second, and his tone turned slightly unnatural. Avoiding my gaze, he explained to Vanessa. “It wasn’t specially bought for her.” Only then did he turn to me, forcing himself to speak. “The wedding date we set has to be postponed. Clara, take this bracelet as compensation from me.” The fingers holding the box tightened slightly. I said nothing. I just looked at Liam with a gaze full of mockery. Postponed? This was already the ninth time. Every single time, it was because of Vanessa. Every single time, he could use such a casual tone to crush my expectations into dust. Seeing I stayed silent, Liam looked even more uncomfortable, like he couldn’t sit still. He quickly stood up, grabbed his suit jacket from the back of the chair, and said to Vanessa. “There’s an emergency at the company. I’m leaving first. Rest at home. Call me anytime if you need anything.” After that, he practically fled the living room, as if staying one more second would torture him. Watching his hurried back, I instantly lost any appetite. I set the box down, picked up a slice of bread from the table and took two bites, but it tasted like cardboard. I turned and went back to my room—I simply couldn’t stand the suffocating feeling of being in the same space as Vanessa. In the afternoon, I took a nap. When I woke up, the sun had already tilted west, spilling through the slit in the curtains onto the floor. I stretched, then habitually reached for my wrist—only to find nothing there. The silver bracelet my mother had left me—her only keepsake—was gone. That bracelet had been with me for more than ten years. It had never left my body. My heart sank instantly, emotions flooding up all at once: panic, anxiety, unease… I forced myself to calm down, replaying everything from yesterday to today, trying to remember where it might have been left. Just as I stood up to go look for it, I heard a soft click from the living room. I hurried out—and saw Vanessa sitting on the sofa, casually playing with my bracelet in her hand, tossing it high into the air and catching it again and again. “Give it back,” I said, my voice turning cold in an instant. “Give me my bracelet.” Vanessa acted like she hadn’t heard me. Instead, she deliberately tossed it even higher. I instinctively reached out to catch it, but the bracelet traced an arc through the air—I missed. It slammed hard onto the marble floor. Crack— A crisp, brutal snap rang out. The silver bracelet shattered into several pieces, scattering across the ground. “How dare you break my bracelet?” My voice shook uncontrollably, red veins blooming in my eyes. That wasn’t an ordinary bracelet—it was my mother’s last trace, the only warmth I’d ever had to hold onto in this cold house. Vanessa lifted her head slowly and looked at my collapse. She smiled—triumphant and arrogant. “Didn’t Liam just give you a new jade bangle, Sister Clara? I’m helping you deal with the old one.” She tilted her head, her voice lazy and cruel. “After all, useless trash belongs in the trash can.” “Who are you calling trash?!” I shook all over from fury. The grievance and rage I’d held down for too long exploded completely in that moment. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I rushed forward and shoved Vanessa to the floor, then crouched down, hands trembling as I reached to pick up the broken pieces of the bracelet. Tears spilled out uncontrollably, dropping onto the fragments.

Vanessa Bennett fell onto the icy floor, the smugness on her face disappearing instantly, replaced by a bone-chilling coldness. She propped herself up and slowly sat up, brushing the dust off her skirt. Her eyes, venomous like a snake soaked in poison, locked onto me. “Clara Bennett, who do you think you are now?” she hissed. “You actually dared to push me?” She turned her head toward the bodyguards standing by in the corner of the villa, her tone sharp and commanding, leaving no room for refusal. “Hold her down.” The two bodyguards exchanged glances, hesitating as they looked from me—still crouched on the floor picking up the fragments—to Vanessa’s dark, threatening expression. Just as they were about to speak, Vanessa cut them off with a vicious glare. “Don’t forget whose money you’re taking,” she said coldly. “You work for Liam Foster. You’re his people.” Each word struck precisely where it hurt. “Think carefully—right now, who do you think matters more to him?” The bodyguards fell silent for a brief moment. In the end, they clearly saw the situation for what it was. They stepped forward quickly, one on each side, gripping my arms and forcing me down onto the sofa, pinning me so I couldn’t move. Watching this unfold, I suddenly laughed. My laugh was hoarse, bleak. Tears mixed with those I hadn’t finished crying earlier rolled down my cheeks. “So everyone knows,” I said, my voice trembling, “that in Liam Foster’s heart, you—Vanessa Bennett—are the most important one. And I’m the only fool who kept clinging to a last shred of hope, believing that his care for you was just for my sake.” Before that absurd illusion could even fade, Vanessa had already turned and walked over to the coffee table. She picked up a decorative dagger. The moment it slid from its sheath, cold light flashed. Gripping the dagger, she walked toward me step by step, her eyes filled with cruel delight. Hiss— The sharp blade slashed across my cheek without warning. A piercing pain exploded instantly, racing through my nerves and into every corner of my body. I shuddered violently, struggling desperately, my voice hoarse and barely recognizable. “Vanessa Bennett, don’t you dare! Aren’t you afraid Liam will call the police? I’ve been with him for so many years—what makes you think you can replace me?!” “Replace you?” Vanessa laughed wildly. With a flick of her wrist, she carved another deep, bone-revealing cut into my other cheek. Blood surged out at once, streaming down my face. She bent down, pressed close to my ear, and whispered in a voice only the two of us could hear: “Clara Bennett, I told you a long time ago—even if I killed you, Liam wouldn’t blame me one bit.” “You—and your dead mother—were nothing but stepping stones for me to climb higher.” As her words fell, she went mad with the dagger, slashing across my face and neck again and again. One bloody gash followed another. Blood dripped like broken beads, soaking my clothes and splattering onto the sofa cushions. I struggled with everything I had, but against two grown bodyguards, my strength was laughable. I could only watch helplessly as the dagger struck me again and again. In the end, Vanessa seemed to find the dagger unsatisfying. She tossed it aside and raised her hand, slapping my face hard. Smack! Smack! Smack! The crisp, brutal sounds echoed through the living room, each one like a hammer smashing into my heart. My consciousness began to blur. The burning pain in my face nearly robbed me of all sensation. My vision turned crimson as warm blood flooded my eyes and mouth, the metallic sweetness filling my nose. “Well?” Vanessa grabbed my hair, yanking my head up so I had no choice but to face her. Her eyes were full of revengeful pleasure as she spoke slowly, word by word. “Do you know what you did wrong now?” “When I was nine years old, your mother slapped me in front of everyone and called me a mistress’s daughter—said I was disgraceful, that I embarrassed the Bennett family.” “And now, I’m going to let her see from the grave how her precious legitimate daughter gets slashed ten times and slapped a hundred times—until she’s even more pathetic than me.” As she spoke, she bent down, picked up the broken pieces of the silver bracelet from the floor, clenched them in her hand, and smashed them viciously into my face. The shards cut into my skin, bringing pain even sharper than the blade. The agony in my chest intertwined with the pain on my face. I couldn’t take it anymore. A mouthful of blood burst from my lips. My vision went black, and I lost consciousness completely. Before everything faded, I vaguely heard the villa door being flung open, followed by Liam Foster’s furious shout: “Stop!” … I didn’t know how long it was before I slowly opened my eyes. The familiar smell of disinfectant filled my nose. I was back in the hospital. Liam Foster sat on the chair beside my bed. There was a trace of barely perceptible concern on his face, and his voice was softened deliberately. “Clara, what happened today… Vanessa was too impulsive. You’ve suffered.” My entire face was wrapped in thick gauze, leaving only my swollen, reddened eyes exposed. I blinked. A sour ache rose in my dry eyes. My voice was hoarse, as if scraped raw by sandpaper. “Did you call the police?” Liam’s gaze flickered. A trace of guilt flashed through his eyes before he quickly steadied himself and looked away. “Vanessa… after all, she’s your own sister. This was indeed her fault. I’ve already punished her properly. Don’t dwell on it anymore—focus on recovering.” “How did you punish her?” My voice was devoid of emotion—calm to the point of terror. Liam hurriedly pulled a small box from his pocket and opened it. Inside lay the repaired silver bracelet. He handed it toward my bedside and said in a low voice: “When she slashed you, her palm was also cut by the dagger. She bled quite a bit. I’ve punished her by making her stay home, no going out, and no touching anything sharp. Clara, that should be enough. Don’t make things too ugly between everyone.” My gaze fell on the repaired bracelet, then slowly lifted to Liam’s hypocritical face. Suddenly, I let out a miserable laugh. The movement tugged at the wounds on my face, making my whole body tremble with pain. “Liam Foster, do you remember?” I asked softly. “You once said you’d protect me for the rest of my life. That you’d never let me get hurt.” His eyes dimmed, as if memories from the past had surfaced. His lips moved, as though he wanted to say something. But before he could speak, I suddenly sat up, gathering every ounce of strength I had left, and slapped him hard across the face. Smack. The sound was sharp and piercing in the quiet hospital room. “Get out!” I screamed, my voice breaking with despair. “The thing I regret most in my entire life is knowing you—being with you!” Liam stood there stunned, his cheek burning, confusion filling his eyes. After a few seconds, as if something had occurred to him, his expression gradually calmed. His tone turned weary, almost indulgent. “I know you’re very angry right now. Your emotions are unstable. The doctor said you need rest. Calm down. I’ll come see you in a few days.” He stood up and turned to leave. When he reached the door, he suddenly stopped, turned back to look at me, and spoke lightly—yet with a faint, unmistakable threat. “And one more thing. I don’t want to hear what you just said ever again. Otherwise, I’ll take it seriously.” With that, he left the room without looking back and closed the door behind him. Silence fell instantly. I collapsed back onto the bed, clutching the blanket. The sobs I had been suppressing for so long finally broke free—heart-rending, desperate, yet muffled, because I was afraid of pulling at the wounds on my face. Tears soaked into the pillowcase, mixing with the still-drying blood. Bitter. And utterly hopeless.

It wasn’t until a week later that I saw Liam Foster again in the hospital lobby. Perhaps knowing he’d been far too biased before, he deliberately brought Vanessa Bennett along this time, saying he wanted her to apologize to me in person. Vanessa clung affectionately to Liam’s arm, her tone light and casual, without a trace of sincerity. “I’m sorry, Sister. What happened that day was all my fault. I caused you such serious injuries. You’re the bigger person—please don’t hold it against me.” I lifted my eyes and glanced at her calmly. My gaze was as still as stagnant water, without the slightest ripple. I didn’t respond. I didn’t even slow my steps. I simply turned around and walked straight back to my ward, leaving the two of them standing there. Vanessa’s expression collapsed instantly. She looked at Liam with wounded eyes, tears welling up without warning. “Liam… is Sister still angry with me?” Liam watched my retreating back in silence. There was a hint of nostalgia in his eyes, and his tone was firm. “No. She’s always been soft-hearted. She never truly holds grudges.” But when they reached my room and pushed the door open, they saw me lift my hand and toss a familiar USB drive into the trash can beside the bed. Liam’s pupils shrank abruptly. He strode forward, disbelief lacing his voice. “Clara Bennett, what are you doing?!” That USB drive held years of our memories—photos from our first date, videos from our trips together, recordings of him singing me a birthday song. I used to treasure it, keeping it in the deepest pocket of my wallet, never letting anyone touch it. And now, I’d thrown it away like garbage. Before Liam could say anything else, I slid the engagement ring he’d given me off my finger. My fingertips loosened slightly, and with a soft clink, the ring fell into the trash can after the USB drive. My tone was flat, utterly calm, as if I were talking about something trivial. “Nothing. I just think Vanessa was right. Useless trash belongs in the trash.” After that, I turned and walked away without looking back at either of them, heading straight for the doctors’ offices to complete my discharge paperwork. Liam’s face drained of color instantly. His fingers trembled, his eyes filled with shock and panic. Vanessa, on the other hand, let out a soft scoff. Leaning close to his ear, she whispered provocatively so only he could hear. “Liam, look—your sincerity was trampled on so easily.” Liam stayed silent for a long time. His Adam’s apple bobbed several times before he finally spoke, his tone stubbornly reassuring himself. “No. When she calms down, she’ll pick the USB drive and the ring back up.” “We’ve been together for so many years. Our relationship runs deep. She won’t really break up with me over something this small.” As his words fell, I returned holding my discharge papers—and heard every word clearly. A cold, mocking smile curved my lips. I didn’t stop. I walked straight toward the exit. Liam Foster, you’re far too arrogant. No one waits in place forever. And no one will keep compromising endlessly for a relationship that has long since rotted away. Breakups are never caused by a single small incident, but by countless heart-chilling moments piling up until the final straw snaps. Liam clearly noticed the mockery in my eyes. His expression darkened further. The three of us stood frozen at the ward entrance, none of us speaking. Not long after, Liam received a phone call—something urgent at the company. He left first. Before going, he deliberately instructed Vanessa to accompany me home properly. The car held only Vanessa and me. The silence was suffocating, pressing down on my chest. Then, halfway through the drive, a violent explosion of sound tore through the air— Bang! A massive impact hit us. The car lost control and flipped violently. The sudden weightlessness made my head spin. I instinctively grabbed the seat belt, but my body was still flung hard. My forehead slammed into the window with a sickening thud, sharp pain erupting. Before I could even react, a runaway cargo truck crashed straight into us. Heat and shattered glass rushed toward me. My body, barely recovered from severe injuries, couldn’t take it. My vision went black, and I lost consciousness. I didn’t know how long passed before I slowly came to. When I opened my eyes, I realized Vanessa and I were tied up with ropes, suspended high in an abandoned warehouse. Beneath us roared a blazing fire. A massive pot of oil boiled violently, splattering scorching droplets that could fall on us at any moment. My head was still dizzy. I tried to recall the details before the crash, confusion swirling in my mind. But when I turned my head, I saw that Vanessa wasn’t afraid at all. She was smiling, watching me like it was a show. “Sister,” she said lightly, amused, “I heard that after Dad kicked you out back then, you fell into severe depression. It was Liam who slowly pulled you out of that abyss, wasn’t it?” Her tone was playful, cruel. “Now that your last bit of hope is gone… do you feel like giving up and killing yourself?” The ropes bit painfully into my wrists, as if they might snap them. Yet I felt nothing. My eyes darted around the warehouse, desperately searching for anything that might help us escape. Vanessa didn’t care about my reaction. She continued smugly, enjoying every word. “Honestly, I should thank you. Back then, it was you who rescued Liam from human traffickers. That’s how I used it as an excuse to get close to him… and slowly replace you.” “What did you say?” My breathing stopped. Every drop of blood in my body seemed to freeze. My memory was yanked back to a summer more than ten years ago. On my way home from school, I was abducted by traffickers and locked in a dilapidated shack. Later, when they weren’t paying attention, I secretly untied myself and the other kidnapped children and led them in a desperate escape. We hadn’t run far before my strength failed and I collapsed. I had always believed Liam found me afterward. I never imagined— Vanessa looked at my stunned expression, her smile widening, malice spilling from her eyes. “That’s right. I took credit for it. I told Liam it was me who risked my life to save him.” “For all these years, you and your dead mother were nothing more than stepping stones for me to climb higher.” The moment her words ended, the heavy warehouse doors were kicked open violently. Liam Foster rushed in with a group of people, his voice cutting through the air— “Stop!”

There were bloodstains on Liam Foster’s impeccably tailored suit—no one knew where they came from. The sight made him look disheveled, rushed. His gaze darted between the two of us hanging in midair. When his eyes landed on the boiling oil pot beneath us—rolling violently, heat waves surging upward—his pupils contracted sharply. His entire body froze, his breathing turning rapid and heavy. Seeing this, Vanessa Bennett’s eyes instantly filled with tears. Large drops rolled down her cheeks as she looked at Liam, choking back sobs, every bit the picture of a terrified victim. “Liam… I’m so scared. Please save me. I don’t want to die here.” Perhaps because our struggling had been too violent, the rope above us suddenly began to sway. The already weakened joint creaked loudly, then snapped partway with a sharp crack. Our bodies dropped several inches at once, leaving less than half a meter between us and the seething oil. A scorching wave of heat rushed toward us, hot enough to burn skin. At the brink of life and death, Liam didn’t hesitate for even a second. He sprinted straight toward the only ladder nearby, climbed it swiftly, and cut the rope binding Vanessa. He pulled her tightly into his arms, murmured a few words of comfort, then turned to climb down. He didn’t look back even once, leaving me only with his cold back as he said flatly: “Clara, hold on a little longer. Once I get Vanessa out safely, I’ll come back and save you.” I watched his unhesitating retreat and suddenly laughed. My laughter was hoarse, bitter, and soaked in irony, even as tears spilled uncontrollably. The man before me overlapped with the boy from my memories—the seventeen-year-old who used to wait for me after school with an umbrella on rainy days, who would press the sweetest candy into my palm, who held my hand and swore with utter seriousness that he would protect me for the rest of his life and never let me be hurt. As if sensing my gaze, Liam paused for a fraction of a second while carrying Vanessa down the ladder and instinctively glanced back at me. In that look, there seemed to be a trace of hesitation—or maybe it was just my imagination. Before I could see clearly, his men shouted urgently from nearby: “Mr. Foster, it’s too dangerous here. Get Miss Bennett out first!” At the same time, a vague voice echoed in my mind—a boy’s voice, anxious and urgent: “Clara Bennett, don’t be afraid. Don’t believe him anymore…” Liam didn’t hesitate again. Holding Vanessa, he strode toward the exit. By then, my body was nearly brushing the edge of the oil pot. Scalding droplets splashed onto my skin, sending sharp jolts of pain through me. I forced myself onto my tiptoes, pressing them against the ground at the pot’s edge, barely managing to keep from sliding any lower. I couldn’t even spare a thought for the soles of my shoes burning from the heat. In Liam’s arms, Vanessa deliberately turned her head to look at me. Her eyes were filled with provocation and triumph. She didn’t speak—she only moved her lips, silently forming the words: See? I won again. Liam set Vanessa down in a safe spot and was just about to turn back and rush into the warehouse to save me when my voice rang out behind him—cold, resolute, final. “Liam Foster, don’t bother. Take her and go. From this moment on, there is no relationship between us anymore.” His steps halted abruptly. He froze, then turned back to look at me, shock written all over his face. At that moment, Vanessa suddenly cried out and grabbed her calf, her brows knitting as she looked at Liam through tearful eyes. “Liam! I think my leg got burned by the splashing oil just now. It hurts so much…” Liam’s gaze dropped to the reddened skin on her calf. He hesitated for only a heartbeat before making his choice. He bent down, scooped Vanessa up in his arms, and hurried toward the exit, only managing to say one apologetic sentence over his shoulder: “Clara, wait for me a little longer! I’ll be right back!” Wait for you? There was no need. Watching him carry Vanessa away in a rush, the last faint spark of hope inside me went out completely. At that exact moment, the rope above my head snapped with a sharp crack and broke apart entirely. I instinctively curled my body and used the momentum of the fall to roll sideways, barely avoiding the boiling oil—but my forehead slammed hard into a jagged stone on the ground. Blinding pain tore through me. In the final second before I lost consciousness, I thought I saw a hallucination—eighteen-year-old Liam standing in the sunlight not far away, dressed in a clean white shirt, smiling and clapping for me, his eyes bright and gentle. He looked nothing like the cold, biased man he had become. … When I woke again, it was the familiar hospital room. The smell of disinfectant filled my nose, making my stomach churn. The nurse beside me noticed I was awake and spoke softly: “Miss Bennett, you’ve practically lived in the hospital this past month. Your body’s too weak. There’s no one here taking care of you—would you like us to call a family member?” I lay on the bed, thick gauze wrapped around my head, my burned calf sending waves of piercing pain. I turned my head and saw Liam sitting on a chair beside the bed. My voice was hoarse, barely recognizable. “That kidnapping was staged by Vanessa Bennett. I’m calling the police.” Liam stayed silent, his fingers curling slightly. After a long pause, he finally spoke, guilt rare in his tone. “Vanessa… she was hurt too this time. The burn on her leg is pretty serious.” He paused, trying to persuade me. “And she’s your own sister. Do you really have the heart to see her taken away by the police and left with a criminal record?” I stared at him in disbelief, my eyes filled with fury and mockery. “Liam Foster, are you out of your mind?” “She almost killed me! Even if she were my full-blooded sister, I have the right to call the police and the right to hold her accountable!” “I’ll compensate you,” Liam cut in quickly, his voice full of remorse. “Didn’t you always want a wedding of the century? Once you’re discharged this time, we’ll start preparing immediately and get it done. As long as I’m here, no one will ever bully you again.” “Who wants your compensation? Who wants your wedding of the century?” I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. The sharp smack echoed through the quiet room. I screamed, releasing all the rage and despair I had bottled up for so long: “Liam Foster, the only person who’s ever bullied me is you! I’m breaking up with you—right now, this instant!” His head snapped to the side from the blow. His cheek burned, and his eyes were filled with shock, as if he had never imagined I could be this resolute. He stood frozen for a few seconds, about to speak, when hurried knocking suddenly sounded at the door. A caregiver rushed in, flustered. “Mr. Foster, Miss Vanessa Bennett in the next room says if she doesn’t see you, she won’t let us apply her medication and keeps crying. Should you go check on her?” Liam’s body stiffened. After only a moment’s hesitation, he stood up and turned toward me, his tone perfunctory, soothing in name only. “Clara, I’ll go see Vanessa first and make sure she gets her treatment. You rest here and don’t overthink things.” “Don’t worry. This time, the wedding definitely won’t be postponed. I’ll give you a proper explanation.” With that, he didn’t linger. He pushed the door open and strode out of the room, never once looking back at the deathly pale look on my face.

I only stayed in the hospital for one day. The stitches on my foot had just been removed, the wound still throbbing with unhealed pain, when I packed a small bag and walked out of the hospital alone. The sunlight fell on me, carrying a trace of warmth, yet it couldn’t dispel the lingering chill in my heart—until I stood at the gate of the villa and my phone chimed softly with a new email from overseas. The moment I opened it, an electronic admission letter filled the screen. The gilded school crest stood out vividly. It was the top-tier university I had fought with everything I had to apply for, my only way out of this city built on betrayal and pain. My fingers trembled slightly. Only then did I realize that, without noticing, the “one-month preparation period” I had set for myself had already ended. The new life that belonged to me was finally here. I stood there, watching the breeze lift fallen leaves from the ground and carry them spinning into the distance. The massive weight pressing on my chest collapsed all at once. For the first time, the future felt clear and bright. My plane ticket had long been booked, my luggage mostly packed—I could leave at any time. But before I went, I wanted to visit a few places, to properly say goodbye to the past that had entangled me for more than a decade. Seven hours before departure, I drove to the place where Liam Foster and I had first met. It was the abandoned warehouse where, at nine years old, I had been kidnapped by traffickers and locked up along with more than a dozen other children. Back then, I had been trembling with fear, when a young Liam stepped forward, clumsy but determined, standing protectively in front of me. Later, we escaped with all our strength—but overwhelmed by terror, I lost that part of my memory, giving Vanessa Bennett the chance to steal the credit and worm her way in. Now, the old warehouse was gone. In its place stood a brand-new factory, machines roaring, people bustling about. There wasn’t a trace left of what had happened back then. I stood at the factory entrance, staring at the scene before me. Fragments of memories buried under fear surfaced faintly, yet they stirred no emotion anymore. I exhaled softly and turned away. The stolen credit. The misplaced past. They all belonged here now. Five hours before departure, I went to the university campus where we met again. The area outside the teaching buildings was still crowded and lively. Students in uniforms passed by constantly, some glancing curiously at the faint scars on my face that hadn’t fully faded, their eyes full of speculation. I didn’t care. I walked slowly, my gaze sweeping over the familiar tree-lined paths and the library, but I could no longer find the boy who once looked at me as if I were his entire world. In my memories, that boy in a white shirt would rush to my classroom the moment the bell rang, save a window seat for me in the library, spot me instantly in a sea of people, take my hand solemnly, and promise word by word: “Clara, trust me. I’ll be good to you for the rest of my life.” A faint, self-mocking smile curved my lips. Liam Foster, you broke your word in the end. Three hours before departure, I went to the sea of flowers where he had proposed to me. I had planned to bury all the little gifts he’d given me over the years—the movie ticket stubs from our first date, our anniversary couple bracelets, the small ornament he handmade for my birthday—deep in the soil here, to lay the past to rest once and for all. But just as I reached the entrance, I saw Liam and Vanessa standing among endless red roses, with the estate’s butler beside them. The butler was introducing the place respectfully. “Mr. Foster, Miss Bennett, these roses were all carefully cultivated. Red roses symbolize passionate love and are the perfect choice for a wedding venue.” Vanessa clung to Liam’s arm and swayed it lightly, her voice soft and coquettish. “Liam, I don’t like red roses. They’re too tacky. Can we change them to champagne-colored ones?” Liam lowered his head to look at her, indulgence melting in his eyes. He chuckled softly. “Alright. Whatever you want. I’ll have them ordered right away.” The butler hurriedly pulled out a tablet and handed it to them. “We have other varieties as well. You could take a look… Oh, and there are also sunflowers—Miss Bennett used to like those very much.” He added with a flattering smile, “Didn’t you once say you loved the sunshine and loyalty of sunflowers, and hoped Mr. Foster would always be faithful to you? To see the two of you getting married now is truly a wonderful thing.” He had mistaken the person—thinking Vanessa was the one who’d been proposed to back then. Vanessa’s expression darkened instantly. A flash of malice crossed her eyes, and her grip on Liam’s arm tightened. Liam frowned and cut the butler off at once. “No need to choose. Replace all the red roses here with champagne-colored ones. Redecorate the entire venue according to Vanessa’s preferences.” The butler froze, looking at the roses blooming across the hills, and asked reluctantly, “Then these red roses that have already been set up…” Liam didn’t even glance at them. His voice was cold and decisive. “Bring in an excavator. Dig them all out.” Standing under the shade of a tree not far away, I watched red rose petals drift down through the air. My memories were dragged back to the day he proposed. It had been here too. He used red roses to form a heart, knelt on one knee, held up a diamond ring, and called my name over and over: “Clara, I’ll treat you well for the rest of my life!” “Clara, will you marry me? If you say yes, it’ll be the happiest thing in my life!” Those vows had once lit up my world like starlight. Now, they fell apart along with the petals, shattered beyond repair. I took the small gifts from my bag and gently placed them in the grass at my feet, leaving behind a time that had long since rotted away, right here in this sea of flowers. Then I turned and left without a trace of hesitation. In the final hour, I arrived at the airport right on time, pulling the suitcase I’d already packed. After checking in and passing security, with ten minutes left before boarding, my phone vibrated. It was a message from Liam, with a wedding design attached. “The wedding design is ready. Take a look. If there’s anything you don’t like, just tell me.” I opened the image. The venue was filled with champagne-colored roses, and even the wedding dress in the rendering was a champagne mermaid gown—Vanessa’s favorite. I let out a soft laugh. There was no sadness in my eyes, only complete relief. Since every detail had been designed according to Vanessa’s preferences, then the bride of that wedding might as well be her. I opened the audio recording saved on my phone—the one I’d secretly recorded during the warehouse kidnapping, when Vanessa, drunk on triumph, confessed to stealing the credit for saving Liam’s life. I clipped the most critical part and sent it to him, then added a single line: “Liam Foster, I wish you a happy wedding and a lifetime together.” The moment it was sent, I blocked all of Liam’s contact information without hesitation—deleted him, then turned my phone off completely. The boarding announcement sounded. I pulled my suitcase and walked step by step toward the aircraft. The plane taxied slowly, then finally soared into the sky, piercing through thick clouds. I leaned against the window, watching the rolling sea of clouds outside, as if it had cut off all the darkness and pain of the past. I closed my eyes slowly, a peaceful smile appearing on my lips. Goodbye, Liam Foster. Goodbye to this past filled with betrayal and hurt. From now on, my life belongs only to me.