Chapter 2

Lucas POV

I hadn't even reached the elevators when someone grabbed my arm hard.

"Lucas! Stop right there!"

Mara was out of breath, holding up her wedding dress train, her updo coming loose.

There was no guilt on her face-only furious indignation. "Why are you here? Did you follow me?"

I laughed bitterly. I'd caught my wife at her wedding, and her first reaction was to interrogate me.

"Mara," I looked at her like she was a stranger, "what's today's date?"

She froze. "October sixteenth."

"Four years ago today, we registered our marriage. You said the company had something come up and left me on the side of the road. Today I flew two thousand miles to surprise you, and you gave me an even bigger surprise."

Mara's expression stiffened for a moment, then reverted to her usual assertiveness.

She straightened her hair, all business.

"Can you use your brain like an adult? This is a business strategy! The clients value family values. Xavier is our brand face. For a contract worth tens of millions, we had no choice but to put on an act."

"An act requires inviting your mother? Exchanging rings? Smiling that happily?"

"That's because we had to make it realistic! How else could we fool the clients if we didn't make it look real?"

Mara raised her voice. "Who do you think I'm working myself to death out here for? It's bad enough you don't trust me. Now you're sabotaging everything. If this project falls through, can you afford to compensate for it?"

She was even trying to turn this around on me.

"You've disappointed me so much. If you had even a little sense of the bigger picture, you wouldn't cause trouble at such a critical moment."

Watching her mouth run on and on, my thoughts suddenly drifted far away.

I thought back to four years ago.

Back then, I was recognized as a genius in the architecture program at a university overseas. I'd won international awards before even graduating.

And Mara was just an ambitious but mediocre rich girl.

She started a studio but couldn't land any projects. She cried in the rain out of desperation.

I was the one who shoved the design drawings I'd labored over for half a month into her hands and told her to enter the competition.

That one time made her famous overnight.

Later, she said she loved me. She said I was her source of inspiration.

I believed her.

I gave up the opportunity to pursue advanced studies at a prestigious architectural firm for her sake, willing to be the person behind her.

Over these four years, all the studio's core proposals came from me.

The credit always went to Mara or Xavier.

She always said I had an introverted personality and was suited to working behind the scenes and making money.

She also said Xavier had a good image, so he should be the public face.

So I became the nerd who only knew how to draw. In Xavier's words, an assistant.

They took my work and accepted awards.

They enjoyed the flowers and applause while I waited for her to come home with cold coffee.

I thought it was sacrifice. Turns out it was just pathetic.

The last trace of love in my heart went cold.

I looked at that haughty expression on her face, as if she thought she controlled everything and was certain I couldn't leave her.

But what's valuable in this industry isn't the studio-it's the person who creates.

"Are you finished?"

Mara frowned. "What's with that attitude?"

I looked at her calmly, suppressing the turmoil in my eyes.

"Mara, your dress zipper isn't closed properly."

She instinctively reached for her back.

I stepped back, creating distance. "Go back. Don't keep the groom waiting."

"You're done making a scene?" She looked suspicious.

"I'm done. Disrupting a wedding is immoral. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness."

I turned toward the elevator.

"Go back to the room and wait for me! I'll explain tonight!" she ordered from behind me.

No need. I don't need her love anymore either.

As the elevator doors closed, I took out my phone and looked at the date on the screen.

Today was our wedding anniversary.

I opened my messaging app and found a contact-Chloe, my college classmate and also a divorce attorney.

The last time I'd contacted her was four years ago.

She'd sent me a message cursing me out back then. "Lucas, if you're going to be someone's ghostwriter for a woman, don't call me your friend anymore."

I hadn't replied at the time.

My finger hovered over the screen. I took a deep breath and relied.

"I've made up my mind. Is it still possible to pursue my dream now?"

I waited a few seconds. The screen showed she was typing.

Chloe only sent back a voice message. I could hear wind in the background.

"Lucas, I've been waiting for this call for four years. Tomorrow at ten in the morning. Same old place."

I closed my phone and looked at my reflection in the elevator mirror.

No one knew that my dream was to open a design studio that was truly my own.

Back then, I hadn't been worn down by life yet. All I thought about was architectural ideals.

Later, I hid that dream away and had Chloe guard that small flame for me.

I thought I'd never rekindle it in this lifetime.

I exited the chat and casually opened my cloud storage.

Inside were all the original drafts and revision records from four years of working for Mara.

No matter how much I loved her, as a designer's professional habit, I had kept the source files.