Chapter 2

Nina's POV

In the darkness, my fingers slowly clenched into a tight fist.

If these ten years of devotion were nothing but a joke, I wasn't going to stick around to play my part.

The next evening, a sleek black Maybach pulled up smoothly in front of the Vance estate.

Dressed in an understated black velvet evening gown, I said nothing, pulled open the passenger door, and slid inside.

Behind the wheel, Brandon Hayes rested his hands casually on the leather-wrapped steering wheel, his profile looking as sharply chiseled and unyielding as marble.

Seeing me get in, he merely gave a curt nod. He didn't lean over to adjust my seatbelt like he used to. He didn't even utter a simple greeting.

The silence in the luxury cabin was suffocating.

My nose caught an unfamiliar scent. Brandon had changed his cologne.

He had always worn a crisp cedarwood scent—cool, distant, and aloof, much like his personality. But today, beneath that chilly cedar lingered a sickeningly sweet, candy-like undertone.

It was Chloe's signature perfume. I remembered her saying that sweet scents gave her a sense of security.

Glancing down, I noticed a tiny crease on his tailored suit cuff. Lowering my lashes, I asked nothing, simply turning my gaze toward the glittering city lights flashing past the window.

"I heard from Arthur about the Ivy League exchange program," Brandon said abruptly, keeping his eyes on the road. His voice was low and detached. "It's good that you agreed to step aside. Chloe just got back and feels insecure. Be a little more accommodating with her."

My stomach dropped like a lead weight. I turned my head to look at the man I had been engaged to for three years, my voice eerily steady. "You think I'm the one who should step aside for her?"

"The Vance family owes her," Brandon frowned slightly, clearly displeased by my pushback. "You enjoyed ten years of luxury that belonged to her in the first place. Don't be greedy."

*Greedy?*

A dry laugh nearly escaped my throat. What had I ever been greedy about?

"Understood," I murmured, pulling my gaze back and falling into utter silence.

When we arrived at the Hayes ancestral estate, the gala was already in full swing. The Hayes family was the undisputed apex predator of New York high society; wealthy as the Vances were, next to the Hayes empire, they were practically middle-class.

A few elderly Hayes relatives spotted Brandon and me walking in side by side and teased warmly, "Brandon, you two have been engaged for three years now, and Nina is graduating soon. Isn't it time to set an official wedding date?"

In the past, Brandon would have politely offered an elegant deflection like, *We're actively discussing the timeline.*

Tonight, however, Brandon said nothing.

Holding his champagne flute, his lips pressed into a hard, cold line, letting the air freeze around us. In an instant, the whispers and gazes shifting my way changed—filled with pity, mockery, and schadenfreude.

Everyone knew the real Vance heiress had returned. My status as a fake was officially revoked. Why would the future head of the Hayes family marry an orphan of unknown origin?

Just as the humiliation became unbearable, a sweet, flirtatious voice rang out: "Brandon!"

Chloe, wearing an eye-catching white haute couture ballgown, glided through the crowd like a haughty swan, heading straight for Brandon. Moving with intentional haste, she "tripped" on her hem and pitched straight toward him.

Brandon reacted instantly, reaching out to catch her waist. The red wine in Chloe’s glass tilted perfectly, spilling crimson liquid right over Brandon’s pristine white French cuff.

"Oh no! I'm so, so sorry, Brandon! I didn't mean to!" Chloe gasped, tears brimming in her doe eyes as she flusteredly grabbed a napkin to dab at his wrist.

"It's fine. Don't panic."

Standing less than two feet away, I watched with absolute clarity. Brandon, a notorious germaphobe who would normally throw away any garment someone else brushed against, didn't shove Chloe away. Instead, he gently captured her trembling hand in his own.

The gesture was impossibly tender, his eyes holding a brand of softness and concern he didn't even realize he was showing. "Did you hurt your hand?"

"No..." Chloe flushed, biting her lower lip. She darted a furtive glance toward me, her eyes overflowing with smug, victorious gloating.

I stood frozen in place, watching the pair of them. Suddenly, the past three years of my devotion felt like a monumental, hilarious farce.

Later in the evening, I slipped away to the powder room. Coming out into the marble corridor, I ran straight into Brandon's mother.

Victoria Hayes looked impeccably elegant in her emerald gown. Her gaze swept over me with unabashed disdain. "Nina, now that the real Vance daughter is back, you ought to know your place. My son will never marry an adopted nobody with zero inheritance rights. You're a smart girl. Bow out gracefully. It's better for everyone."

Staring straight into Victoria's haughty, venomous eyes, I didn't show a speck of fear. I offered a razor-thin smile, my voice crystalline and unwavering. "Mrs. Hayes, don't worry. I'll find a time to discuss breaking off the engagement with Brandon. I wouldn't dream of inconveniencing your family."

Victoria let out a cold huff and strutted away.

Late into the night, the party ended. I turned down Brandon’s hollow offer to drive me home and stepped out of the Hayes estate alone into the dark.

The bitter autumn wind tore through my thin velvet dress, but my head had never felt so clear.

Right then, my phone lit up. It was a text from an unsaved number, containing only three words: *Leave them.*

I looked down at the screen for a long time. I locked the phone without replying. But the gentle, submissive light that once defined my eyes had completely frozen over into unbreakable ice.

Yes. It was time to leave.