Chapter 9

Wendy's eyes flickered, a hint of mockery surfacing beneath her eyelids. The next moment, a tear slid down her cheek, tracing the curve of her face.

She instinctively reached up to wipe it away, but before she could, he beat her to it. His finger, trembling, gently wiped the moisture from her skin, as if afraid to disturb her further.

"Wendy, what's wrong? Don't scare me. If you're upset, just say it—don't keep it to yourself." His voice was filled with quiet desperation as he reached out to embrace her, but she turned her body slightly, avoiding his touch.

Finally, she allowed her gaze to settle on him, but the tone of her words was distant, detached.

"Grayson, take me to the beach."

His hand faltered, hovering in midair. He looked at her with surprise.

"Baby, you've always been afraid of water. You never liked the beach."

Wendy's response was cool, almost indifferent. "I suddenly want to see it."

After all, her death had been staged as a "suicide by drowning."

Without a word, Grayson turned and immediately instructed the butler to prepare the car.

The drive was quiet. He drove with one hand, the other tightly holding her hand. Unlike before, she didn't pull away. He glanced at her, sensing something softer in her demeanor, and a smile touched his lips.

He couldn't help but reminisce about the past, their once tender love.

There was a time when, as a child, she'd given him lemon candy with a bright smile. There was the first dance they'd shared in high school, her arm linked in his. Then, during their long-distance relationship, she'd flown for hours to see him.

"I always cherished you," he murmured, eyes full of affection. "And yet, you were the one who flew across the world just to be with me. I vowed then, I would never let you suffer, not even a little."

"Wendy," he said, pulling the car to a stop at the beach, his gaze filled with love. "I will always love you."

She smiled faintly, but the smile held an edge—almost bitter.

Lies, when spoken often enough, could fool even the liar himself.

They stood together, side by side on the sand, gazing at the still, quiet sea before them, the peace of the moment surrounding them.

Then, suddenly, his phone began to ring incessantly.

Without glancing at it, he immediately pressed the end button. But the calls kept coming, one after another, persistent, demanding attention.

Eventually, he looked at the screen, and with a sigh, he stepped aside to take the call.

Wendy couldn't hear what was said, but when he listened, Grayson's expression shifted slightly, his eyes darkening with a glimmer of desire.

Just then, Wendy received a text message from Rita.

Rita: [Wendy, even if you're getting married tomorrow, what does it matter? With one call, he'll come running to me. If you're smart, you should hand over the title of 'Mrs. Bryce' to me.]

This wasn't the first time Rita had pushed her out of the way, but it was the first time Wendy had replied.

Wendy: [Fine. As you wish.]

Just as she sent the message, Grayson, having hung up the phone, rushed back to her, his face wearing an apologetic expression. "Wendy, I'm sorry. There's an urgent matter at the company…"

Wendy's voice was calm but carried an unsettling weight. "Grayson, do you remember what I told you the day you proposed?"

His heart clenched.

"I told you, if you ever changed your mind about loving me, you should tell me, and I wouldn't bother you again. But if you lied to me, I'd leave you forever."

A cold smile touched her lips, but it never reached her eyes.

Grayson's hand tightened around the phone, his knuckles turning white. He remained silent for a long moment before, with a shaking hand, he gently ruffled her hair.

"Wendy," he murmured, "I love you so much. How could I ever lie to you?"

In that instant, the last remnants of love she had for him evaporated, vanishing without a trace.

Wendy laughed softly, but the sound was empty, hollow. "Aren't you supposed to be dealing with something at work? Go on, then."

His eyes locked onto hers, panic sweeping over him. He suddenly didn't want to leave. He was afraid that if he did, they would never see each other again.

But remembering the call he had just received, he relaxed his grip on the phone, his fear momentarily subdued. Wendy was right here—nothing could happen to her, not now. Besides, they were getting married tomorrow.

He let out a long breath. "Wendy, after you're done enjoying your time here, come back soon. I'll see you at the wedding tomorrow."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked quickly to the car, driving off without looking back.

Wendy stood on the beach, watching him disappear into the distance. She didn't try to stop him. She didn't plead for him to stay.

Ten minutes later, a car pulled up on the sand.

A man stepped out and approached her. "Ms. Hall, all your personal information in the country has been erased. New identification, a new phone, and tickets are all ready for you. From now on, no one will be able to find you."

She lowered her gaze, accepting the documents from him. Then, she handed over her phone.

"Tomorrow, deliver the fake body to the wedding venue. And this phone—make sure it's delivered to the groom, personally."

She wanted him to know how Rita had continuously provoked her these past days.

She wanted him to understand that because he lied to her time and again, choosing another woman over her, she had ended her life in the sea.

She wanted him to know that today was their last meeting.

For the rest of his life, he would feel the weight of that moment. He wanted his heart to shatter every time he recalled this memory.

After she had given her instructions, Wendy took the new identification and got into an unmarked car.

"Driver, take me to the airport."

As the car sped into the night, far in the distance, the first rays of golden dawn began to break across the horizon.