Chapter 3

Cold rain washed over my face, mingling with tears of sheer despair.

Lying in the mud, it felt as though an invisible hand was crushing my chest, stealing every breath.

I crawled to my grandfather's headstone, weeping into the dirt: "I'm sorry, Grandpa... I couldn't bring Julian. He isn't my home anymore..."

From that day on, I knew the sun that was Julian Sterling had set forever in my life.

After handling Grandpa's funeral alone, I returned to the city, walked straight into the penthouse Julian and I shared, and broke things off.

Julian stared at me in disbelief, utterly baffled by my sudden decision.

He reached out, resting his warm hands on my shoulders, trying to pull me close.

Just then, his phone rang—Chloe.

She was crying through the speaker again, whimpering that she was scared to be alone at home.

While keeping one hand on my shoulder, Julian spoke into the phone: "Sweetheart, don't cry. I'm on my way."

Watching his effortless, instinctive neglect, I let out a hollow laugh.

I set my key on the entryway table and spoke with quiet finality: "Julian, we're done."

I had made up my mind to leave that day, but Julian begged me to attend his mother's birthday dinner one last time.

Knowing it would be our final farewell, I agreed.

I never expected Chloe to deliver the fatal blow that night.

An "accidental" bump caused boiling hot sugar syrup to spill over my right hand.

My hand was ruined, and with it, the championship competition I had trained years for was gone.

Julian shielded a trembling Chloe, screaming at me that he had never loved me and telling me to get out.

His desperate attempt to keep me around flipped everything—making him the one who dumped me, and destroying my entire career in the process.

After that night, I blocked his number and deleted every social account.

I switched jobs, moved across town, and vanished from his world like smoke.

I spent five long years licking my wounds, rebuilding my life, and learning to forget.

I thought I had succeeded.

Turns out, some scars are merely waiting to be ripped open again.

A harsh buzz at the doorbell violently yanked me from my memories.

I got up and peered through the peephole. Julian was standing in the dim hallway, his face stormier than thunder.

I didn't want to see him. I wanted nothing to do with him.

I leaned against the door, holding my breath, pretending no one was home.

The buzzer rang relentlessly.

"Elena! I know you're in there! Open the door!"

His commanding voice boomed through the thin wood.

I closed my eyes, drawing in a sharp breath.

Five years, and he still acted like he owned my world.

"What do you want, Mr. Sterling?" I asked through the door, my tone freezing. "If this is about your fiancée's catering order, wire the remaining balance to my business account. We are completely settled."

"Settled?" The word seemed to infuriate him. A harsh, mirthless laugh followed. "Elena, what you owe me can never be settled in this lifetime!"

Tired of his nonsense, I turned to walk back to the couch.

The next second, the keypad on my electronic lock chimed.

My blood ran cold.

When I moved in, too lazy to memorize a new code, I had kept our old apartment's passcode—the combination of our birthdays.

The latch clicked open.

Julian’s tall silhouette filled the doorway, blocking out the hall light.

He stepped inside, trailing the scent of expensive champagne and Chloe's cloying, sugary perfume. The smell made my stomach turn.