Cheryl had just closed her phone and was about to stand up when the butler walked in, his face filled with hesitation. "Miss, there are people outside claiming to be your biological parents. They wish to see you." Cheryl's head jerked up, her eyes wide in disbelief. "Who did you say wants to see me?" After the butler gave a more detailed explanation, Cheryl finally understood. It was her estranged parents, who had divorced many years ago and now had new families of their own. After her traumatic events and supposed death, they had only just remembered their abandoned daughter. The fact that she had been presumed dead had halted their plans to see her for the final time. But now, hearing rumors about her "resurrection" and her return to the country, they thought to visit her. She listened in silence, her expression unreadable. It was Allen who spoke next, stepping closer and wrapping his arm around her waist. "They're pretending to visit you out of a desire to reconnect,
In the haze of her thoughts, countless memories of their time together flooded her mind. At six years old, he had taken her hand and firmly told her parents, "It doesn't matter if they don't want you, I do." At sixteen, he had gathered the courage to confess to her. "I will love only you, for the rest of my life." At twenty-two, he had spent millions to propose, begging her not to leave him, telling her he would go mad without her. At twenty-three, he had cheated on her with Rita. He began to lie to her repeatedly, staying out all night. At twenty-four, the night before their wedding, she "jumped into the sea to commit suicide," and they never saw each other again. At twenty-five, they met again, but it was too late. The chasm between them was final—he was now a ghost. The bitterness she once harbored for him faded in that moment. It wasn't that she didn't hate him anymore—it was simply that he no longer mattered. He was just another transient figure in the story of her l
In the video, the ever-composed Grayson trembling slightly as he knelt on one knee, holding out the ring. When her voice finally uttered, "I do," the tears he had held back spilled over, glistening trails tracing the joy on his face. A beautiful moment. So beautiful, in fact, that two girls standing nearby watching clung to each other, moved to tears. "Oh my god, Grayson loves Wendy so much!" "Right? He's like the ultimate romantic. Did you hear they're childhood sweethearts? When he was seventeen, he couldn't wait to confess to her. By twenty, he had the world's most expensive pink diamond crafted into a crown for her, saying she'd always be his princess. At twenty-three, when she was in a car accident and the blood bank ran out of her rare type, he gave his own blood, almost draining himself to save her. And at twenty-six, he proposed to her live for the entire world to see. How could anyone be more devoted than him?" The words blurred together, a clamor of admiration that We
Wendy settled into the car for her ride home, her fingers reflexively unlocking her phone. A message from Rita Olson popped up almost immediately—a screenshot. In the image, Rita was sprawled on the floor in a provocative black bunny outfit, her legs draped with sheer stockings. Her expression was hazy, her gaze both vulnerable and enticing as she looked into the camera. The message read: [If Master arrives within twenty minutes, this little bunny is yours to devour.] Beneath it was a brief reply from Grayson's black-profile avatar: [Wait for me.] Wendy turned off the screen. She closed her eyes, willing herself to suppress the needle-like pain pricking at her heart. She had thought that after seeing so many such photos, she'd become numb, that her heart would learn to shield itself. But no amount of practice could dull the ache. It swept through her body, relentless, invading even her bones. Finally, she forced herself to shut her eyes, shutting out the screen as well. L
Rita casually retrieved a few crisp dollar bills from her bag and slid them into the waiter's pocket with an effortless grace. Her smile was an intoxicating blend of mischief and allure. Before the startled waiter could react, she walked straight over and settled herself boldly into the seat beside Grayson. A collective intake of breath rippled through the room. Whispers erupted like the quiet fizz of champagne bubbles, each voice charged with disbelief. "Who does she think she is? Sitting beside Mr. Bryce like that?" "Doesn't she know he could ruin her with a snap of his fingers?" "Shh, you don't understand. Word is, she's backed by someone powerful. Have you seen the designer brands she flaunts during her live streams?" As Wendy was about to shift her gaze away from the commotion, a gesture caught her eye—casual yet brazen. Rita took Grayson's hand and, without hesitation, guided it beneath the hem of her dress. His hand froze, rigid as stone. Reflexively, he tried to pul
Wendy clasped her trembling hand tightly over her mouth, as if trying to suppress the overwhelming torrent of emotions threatening to break free. She couldn't bear to watch any longer. Turning sharply, she fled the suffocating scene. She ran—further, faster—until her legs gave out beneath her, leaving her to collapse in a stairwell. Her breath came in ragged gasps, each intake of air sharp and piercing, as though it scraped against her lungs. Tears streamed down her cheeks, unchecked and unrelenting. She pressed her hand to her chest, futilely trying to steady the erratic pounding of her heart. The auction had been painful enough—every glance, every word a tiny wound. But what she'd just witnessed in the car was a fatal blow. Memories surfaced unbidden, vivid and cruel. She thought of Grayson's careful tenderness, the purity of his affection when they first started dating. He had been shy then, almost boyishly so. Holding her hand would make him blush; kissing her brought a tre
Wendy lifted her gaze toward him. He looked as though he had rushed back at the fastest speed imaginable, his overcoat soaked through from the rain outside. He didn't seem to care; his entire face was a portrait of panic. "How did you know?" she asked softly. "It's all over the news," he replied, his tone tinged with desperation. "It's trending now." Before she could respond, he pulled her into a tight embrace. His voice, trembling with fear, was barely audible in her ear. "Wendy, what are you doing? Why did you sell everything? Are you leaving me? Do you not want me anymore? What did I do wrong? Tell me, and I'll change. I'll fix it. Just… don't leave me." His words cracked, carrying the weight of a sob, yet she remained still, her gaze distant. A faint, bitter smile curved her lips. If he was so terrified of her leaving, why had he kept another woman on the side? Was it his arrogance, thinking he had concealed it so perfectly, or his assumption that she was too naïve to not
That hand had once caressed her, held her, wiped away her tears, and slipped a ring onto her finger. But now, that same hand was tenderly resting on Rita's belly. "You may not want to rest, but the baby in your stomach needs it. Be a good girl, go to sleep," came Grayson's deep, soothing voice. Hearing his words, the online audience exploded in excitement, filling the chat with pleas for Rita to let her "husband" reveal himself. Amid the chaos of requests, a solitary comment popped up like a rogue wave in the sea of praise: [Wait... did I mishear, or does that voice sound just like Grayson Bryce?] The remark barely registered before being drowned in the torrent of other messages. Rita, her face flushed with coy delight, let Grayson take her hand in his. "My husband isn't the kind to show his face easily," she said, smiling gently at the screen. "He's an important man; please understand." The viewers didn't press further, instead shifting their focus to Rita's love story. Th
In the haze of her thoughts, countless memories of their time together flooded her mind. At six years old, he had taken her hand and firmly told her parents, "It doesn't matter if they don't want you, I do." At sixteen, he had gathered the courage to confess to her. "I will love only you, for the rest of my life." At twenty-two, he had spent millions to propose, begging her not to leave him, telling her he would go mad without her. At twenty-three, he had cheated on her with Rita. He began to lie to her repeatedly, staying out all night. At twenty-four, the night before their wedding, she "jumped into the sea to commit suicide," and they never saw each other again. At twenty-five, they met again, but it was too late. The chasm between them was final—he was now a ghost. The bitterness she once harbored for him faded in that moment. It wasn't that she didn't hate him anymore—it was simply that he no longer mattered. He was just another transient figure in the story of her l
Cheryl had just closed her phone and was about to stand up when the butler walked in, his face filled with hesitation. "Miss, there are people outside claiming to be your biological parents. They wish to see you." Cheryl's head jerked up, her eyes wide in disbelief. "Who did you say wants to see me?" After the butler gave a more detailed explanation, Cheryl finally understood. It was her estranged parents, who had divorced many years ago and now had new families of their own. After her traumatic events and supposed death, they had only just remembered their abandoned daughter. The fact that she had been presumed dead had halted their plans to see her for the final time. But now, hearing rumors about her "resurrection" and her return to the country, they thought to visit her. She listened in silence, her expression unreadable. It was Allen who spoke next, stepping closer and wrapping his arm around her waist. "They're pretending to visit you out of a desire to reconnect,
In the days that followed, Grayson lay feverish and delirious, his hoarse voice repeatedly calling out Wendy's name. By his side, Rita sat slumped in a chair, her once-vibrant presence reduced to a hollow shadow. Her gaze, blank and unblinking, was fixed on him. Since the scandal of being labeled a homewrecker, her difficult childbirth, and the violent tumble down the stairs, Rita's love for him had long since evaporated. What remained in her heart was a toxic mix of hatred and helplessness. She knew all too well that her current misery was inextricably tied to the man lying before her. Yet, deep down, she also understood that the pampered life he had given her had robbed her of the ability to stand on her own. She couldn't leave him. Without him, she wouldn't survive. No one would hire a woman with such a ruined reputation. Her only option was to cling to him with all her might. Summoning what little resolve she had, Rita pressed the call button beside her. A team of doctors
In the end, Allen not only purchased the jewelry set she had chosen but also bought all the others as well. When she tugged at his hand, intending to say something, he silenced her with a kiss. "Cheryl, as long as you're happy, I don't care how much it costs," he murmured. Cheryl lifted her gaze to meet his. In his eyes, there was no one else but her. As their relationship stabilized, Cheryl finally agreed to return to Asteria and meet his family and close friends. From the moment they stepped off the plane to their arrival at the Lloyd family home, their visit was kept low-profile. Only Allen's family and close friends knew of her return. He shielded her carefully, leaving no space for outsiders to intrude. Unbeknownst to Cheryl, someone else had been waiting for her—a shadow lingering in the rain. Grayson, drenched and silent, stood outside the Lloyd family estate for an entire night. He had learned of her return by accident, overhearing a conversation between Christoph a
After much persuasion from Allen, Cheryl managed to divert her attention away from Grayson. However, a more complicated situation had arisen. One evening, Allen, drunk and uninhibited, finally pierced the veil of ambiguity that had hung between them for so long. He kissed her—a spontaneous, unguarded kiss. Cheryl, tipsy herself, didn't resist, and before they knew it, the two had stumbled into a hazy, unplanned intimacy. The next morning, Cheryl resolved to brush the incident under the rug. After all, they were adults, and adults sometimes made impulsive decisions. But Allen, surprisingly, was having none of it. Like a child with an unshakable determination, he insisted she take responsibility for what had happened. Faced with his pleading gaze, so filled with vulnerability and hope, Cheryl found herself nodding before she could stop. Later, as she glanced at the faint marks scattered across her arms, she gently patted her cheeks, trying to bring herself back to her senses. H
Allen didn't say anything more, just lightly patting her back to reassure her. His voice carried a quiet promise, steady yet firm. "Don't worry. I'll handle everything. He won't find you." Cheryl lowered her gaze. Whatever she and Grayson needed to say to each other had been said the day she staged her death. There was nothing left. No explanations, no lingering ties. Betrayal didn't require justification; it was absolute and final. She didn't want to see him, nor did she want to hear any explanations. The two sat together on the sofa, tightly nestled against each other. The room was steeped in a stillness that seemed to suspend time itself. Yet, miles away in a hospital room, chaos reigned. Grayson, barely recovered from his leg injury, was in a frenzy, fighting against the bodyguards restraining him. He was determined to break free, to go to New Zealand and see Wendy. Ever since her death, or what he had believed to be her death, he had never truly accepted the finality of it
Allen suppressed the urge to let a smirk creep across his lips. Taking a few deliberate sips of tea, he finally spoke with casual detachment, "So, your family made the news again?" After all, Rita wasn't staying in a VIP ward. The commotion during her argument with Grayson had been witnessed by several patients, some of whom had even live-streamed the spectacle. Christoph rubbed his temples, exhaustion clouding his features. Ever since he'd taken over as CEO of Bryce Ventures, both Grayson and Rita had been a constant source of trouble. "I've decided that once they wake up, they'll be moving back to their own place," he said. Initially, Carrie had thrown a tantrum upon hearing the decision, threatening to escalate things. But the moment Christoph coldly threatened to cut off all financial support for Grayson's family, she fell silent. "Once they've moved out, I'll issue a public statement severing all ties between them and the Bryce family. Whatever mess they make afterward w
Before Rita could strike, Grayson seized her wrist, shoving her back against the wall and wrapping his hand tightly around her throat. "Rita, if you dare to harm Wendy again, you won't live to see another sunrise." Without sparing her another glance, he released her, turned, and carefully helped the "Wendy" doppelgänger back into the villa, as if shielding the most fragile of treasures. Rita stood frozen, her body trembling uncontrollably. It was only after a long moment that her legs gave out, and she collapsed to the floor, gasping for air like a drowning swimmer breaking the surface. So close. So close. He'd almost killed her. The thought screamed in her mind. Her throat throbbed with the memory of his grip, and the terror that had seized her still lingered. Just as she tried to rise, a sharp, searing pain radiated from her lower abdomen, and the unmistakable scent of blood began to fill the air. Her face drained of color as she clutched her stomach in panic. "My baby!
At the airport, Cheryl stepped forward and, almost impulsively, hugged Allen. "Take care of yourself," she said. Allen held her in his arms for a long moment before letting go, then turned to head toward the departure gate. At the Bryce family home, the house was alive with activity. Servants scurried to decorate the sprawling villa, ensuring every corner reflected the prestige of a family heir's wedding. The patriarchal torch had passed to Christoph, the eldest son from a different mother, leaving Grayson and his scandals relegated to whispers. In the shadows of a window in the auxiliary building, Rita stood motionless, her eyes fixed on the flurry of preparations. She was no longer the center of attention, no longer the woman who commanded the room. When her affair with Grayson had been exposed, both of them fell from grace. But for Rita, the fall had been steeper. The Bryce family's disdain for her was palpable; her presence was tolerated only because she was carrying th