Chapter 1

I had loved Lucas Hayes for ten long years. He was always so cold, so distant, yet he never objected to our engagement. I foolishly believed that meant he was okay with it, that he wanted it.

Until that day. I was braving the torrential downpour, rushing to bring him his stomach medicine.

That's when I stumbled upon Brittany Miller, the heiress of a rival company, playfully coaxing him to drink. I stepped forward to stop her, but his voice was scathing:

"Do you really think you’re going to be Mrs. Hayes?"

"Mind your own business."

In the noisy, crowded bar, my tears mingled with the rain, blurring my vision. Lucas, from this moment on, your life means nothing to me. Your affairs are no longer my concern.

Lights flickered, casting shifting shadows across the bar. My hand clenched around the stomach medicine, and my body felt numb with cold.

Mocking glances and looks of amusement and contempt fell on me from all directions.

But what stung the most was Lucas’s impatient expression. He had chronic stomach issues; he had to take his medication after eating, otherwise the pain would be unbearable.

I’d called him several times, but he hadn't picked up, so I’d had to ask around for the location of tonight’s gathering.

Just as I was about to arrive, a sudden downpour started. It was peak hour traffic; a mere five-hundred-meter stretch, but the GPS blared "thirty minutes." Desperate to get the medicine to Lucas, I’d dashed through the downpour, soaked to the bone.

In the sultry lighting, Brittany was draped against him, playfully coaxing him to drink. He, a man who loathed physical contact, was letting her do whatever she pleased.

The moment I pushed the door open, her glass hovered at his lips, a scene of unbearable intimacy, dripping with unspoken desire.

A pang of bitter jealousy twisted in my gut, but what flashed in my mind was Lucas's face, pale with pain during one of his episodes.

"He can't drink!" The words burst out before I could stop them.

The room fell silent, the buzzing chatter evaporating. I instinctively looked down.

My mud-splattered black leather shoes left a tiny, dark stain on the pristine floor. A wave of mortification washed over me.

But what humiliated me even more was Lucas’s response.

He leaned back on the couch, a faint 'Tsk' escaping his lips. "Do you really think you’re going to be Mrs. Hayes?"

"Mind your own business."

He didn't even spare me a glance, tipping his head back to down the whiskey in one swift gulp.

The words I’d meant to say died in my throat. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I swallowed hard, battling the tears, desperate not to look as pathetic as I felt.

The others subtly shifted their gazes, treating me like invisible air. They moved carefully, detouring around me when they passed.

A sympathetic girl, unable to watch, offered me a dry napkin. But her friend immediately yanked her away: "Why bother with her?"

Rainwater dripped incessantly from my hair. Past memories replayed, one after another, in my mind.

It hit me then, a cold, crushing realization. Lucas didn’t object to our engagement, not because he secretly wanted it, but because… he simply didn't care.

He didn't care about his mother's promise, about my grandma's dying wish, or about me. To put it more cruelly, he held me in contempt.

That's why he'd stayed silent when others said I wasn't good enough for him. That's why my heartfelt concern was nothing more than "meddling" in his eyes.

Mortification, humiliation, anger, and a deep sense of betrayal intertwined, but strangely, they dissolved into an eerie calm. I slowly dried my hair, then quietly placed the stomach medicine on the table.

One last glance at Lucas.

And then, without a backward look, I walked out of that bar.