Chapter 2

Her words were like a blade, slicing through the fantasies I’d built over five long years.

I thought it didn’t matter that she had her ghost. After all, he was dead.

I thought that time would change things. That if I treated her well enough, if I gave her everything she wanted, she’d eventually fall for me.

Over the years, I gave her everything.

When she wanted to break into the entertainment industry, I handed her the best resources.

When she offended a powerful director, I personally smoothed things over.

When the White family fell from grace and she was mocked at parties, I stood by her side and promised her no one would ever hurt her again.

But none of it mattered.

All my love, my devotion—it had earned me nothing but her hatred and contempt.

I stared at her face, twisted in anger, and finally realized how pathetic I was.

My so-called love was a joke.

I let out a soft, bitter laugh as the engagement ring slipped from my fingers, vanishing into the grass.

The party went on without her, and by the time she returned to the scene, the bride had already been replaced.

That night, Sophia called me.

“Darling, I drank too much at the club,” she said sweetly, her voice soft and sugary. “Come pick me up, okay?”

She spoke as though nothing had happened, as though she hadn’t just escaped from our engagement party.

As though she hadn’t cried over another man that same morning.

I paused, the phone cold against my ear. For the first time, I didn’t immediately agree.

“I’ll send a driver,” I said flatly.

“I don’t want a driver!” she snapped, her voice suddenly sharp.

Then, after a beat of silence, she chuckled softly, her tone shifting back to a playful purr.

“Please, darling? I don’t want anyone else. If you don’t come, I won’t leave.”

“Come on,” she whispered, her voice dripping with drunken seduction. “Please?”

I stayed silent for a long moment before finally relenting.

When I arrived at the club, the scene was all too familiar.

Sophia was draped across the lap of some fresh-faced boy, her arms looped around his neck like a scarf.

When she saw me, she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, her eyes locking onto mine with a smirk.

Her gaze seemed to say, What are you going to do about it?

In the past, I might’ve dragged her out of there, warned her not to pull a stunt like that again.

But tonight, I simply looked at her, my expression calm.

“Are you coming or not?” I asked.

Sophia blinked, momentarily caught off guard by my lack of reaction.

Then she laughed and stumbled to her feet, her movements unsteady in her high heels.

“Of course I’m coming,” she said, her words slurring slightly. “My husband came all this way to get me.”

She took two steps before tripping, and I caught her easily, steadying her against my chest.

She wrapped her arms around my neck, nuzzling against me like a cat finally returning to its owner.

“You caught me,” she murmured. “You still love me.”

She laughed softly, her voice light and carefree, as though she hadn’t just torn my heart to pieces.