Chapter 1

Prologue

I loved Sean Vance for nine years and spent five of them as his secret mistress.

He once told me his heart belonged to someone else and that he could never love me back.

So, I was content being the on-call interpreter by his side, staying with him through long distances, waiting for him to turn around.

Until his first love made a high-profile return from abroad. He publicly dismissed me as a nobody and let her beat me until I was bleeding and bruised.

I finally understood that nine years of deep devotion was nothing more than my own foolish delusion.

I burned all my memories and submitted my resignation.

This time, Sean, I don't want you anymore.

Daisy's POV

At two in the morning, I watched Sean Vance make a high-profile confession of love to another woman.

The usually private Sean actually posted a personal update for the whole world to see on Ins.

Against a blazing sunset, Sean held a glamorous woman tightly in his arms, kissing her passionately.

In his eyes was an intensity I had never seen before.

The caption read: [Finally got you back. I have no regrets in this life.]

On the dining table, the birthday cake I had spent all afternoon baking had already collapsed into a sticky pool of melted cream.

Clinging to one last sliver of hope, my trembling hands dialed Sean's number.

The call connected, but what came through the receiver was Madison Cole's soft, breathy voice:

"Sean, someone named Daisy keeps calling. I answered, but she isn't saying anything."

Immediately after, Sean's familiar, chilling voice replied without a second of hesitation:

"Ignore it. Just a nobody. Go back to sleep."

Click. The dial tone buzzed harshly in my ear.

A nobody.

I stood in the cold, dark living room.

A quiet, broken laugh escaped my lips, tears streaming down my cheeks.

A nine-year unrequited crush. Five years as his hidden bed partner.

Being his personal translator, on call twenty-four hours a day.

I remembered he took his coffee black, with no sugar. I remembered his severe allergy to dust mites.

I remembered every tiny habit he had at the negotiation table.

Yet in the end, coming from his mouth, I didn't even deserve a name.

Five years ago, at a business dinner.

Sean had been drugged by an aggressive rival. After a passionate night together,

he smoked a cigarette and tossed a credit card at me, his voice icy:

"My heart belongs to someone else. I can't give you love, and I won't take responsibility."

With red-rimmed eyes, clutching the edge of the sheet, I said, "I don't want money. If she never comes back, we stay like this. But if she ever returns, I'll pack my bags and walk away. I'll never bother you."

Now that Madison was back, it was indeed time for me, the shadowy substitute, to step off the stage.

At dawn, I sent a confirmation email to HR:

"I have received my resignation letter signed off by Mr. Vance. My last working day will be in one month. Please proceed with the standard offboarding. No need to bring it up to him."

Sean never looked at the names when signing documents.

He didn't even realize he had personally approved my departure.

Half an hour later, I pulled my half-empty suitcase through the front gates of the villa.

Through the swirling blizzard, a familiar black Maybach slowly pulled up to the curb.

Sean pushed the door open and stepped out. Glancing at my suitcase, his brow furrowed slightly. "In this snow? Where are you going?"

"Moving to a studio apartment I rented. Just staying there for a month," I said, my voice completely flat.

Sean's eyes flickered. He took the suitcase and put it in the trunk. "A month? You won't find a cab in this weather. I'll drive you."

Sliding into the passenger seat, my entire body stiffened.

On the seat sat a pink bow pillow.

A glittery charm dangled from the rearview mirror, and the console was stuffed with opened packages of sugary snacks.

Before, this car had been so spotless that not a single speck of dust was tolerated.

Sean had extreme OCD; if a floor mat was off by a millimeter, he would straighten it immediately.

"Madison likes the car to feel lively," Sean explained casually, keeping his eyes on the road.

I dug my nails into my palms, the sharp pain biting into my flesh.

It turned out that a man's boundaries and principles meant absolutely nothing in front of the woman he truly loved.

I pulled my gaze back and said softly, "Congratulations, Mr. Vance. You finally got her back."

Sean didn't answer. The only sound in the car was the rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers.

Halfway there, the car's Bluetooth suddenly rang.

Madison's sweet, whiny voice echoed through the speakers:

"Sean, tonight is the last night of the Winter Lights Festival. You promised to go with me. Where are you?"

Sean slammed on the brakes, turning to look at me, hesitation clear in his eyes.

A cold laugh surfaced in my chest. I unbuckled my seatbelt and pushed the door open:

"Mr. Vance, the subway station is right ahead. Go be with Miss Cole. Don't keep her waiting."

Sean got out to help me grab my luggage.

The icy road was slick. His grip slipped, and the suitcase crashed heavily onto the snowy pavement, the latches popping open.

The contents inside scattered across the ground in an instant.

Nine thick, leather-bound journals.

And hundreds of magazine clippings featuring his business interviews over the years.

Under the dim glow of the streetlamp, heavy snowflakes fell over nine years of poured-out devotion—a glaring, pathetic sight.

Sean froze completely.

An unreadable shock flashed across his eyes.

My heart seized violently, followed by a bitter, self-mocking pang.

I bent down immediately, frantically stuffing everything back into the case. "Sorry, I can clean it up myself. Safe travels, Mr. Vance."

Sean stared deeply at me in the snow for several seconds. In the end, he asked nothing. He turned, got back into the car, and drove away.

The sleek black sedan kicked up icy spray, speeding off without a hint of reluctance.

I knelt alone in the freezing cold. Before I could even zip the bag shut,

a motorcycle coming the wrong way around the corner slammed directly into me!

Agonizing pain shot up from my right ankle as the rider cursed loudly and sped off into the night.

My ankle swelled into an ugly purple within minutes; every step felt like walking on broken glass.

A drive that normally took thirty minutes took me nearly five grueling hours of limping through the blizzard, dragging my broken bag.

By the time the sky turned pale gray, I finally dragged myself into the apartment.

I collapsed onto the sofa, completely drained. My phone buzzed once.

It was a text Sean had sent three hours ago:

[There are plenty of decent men in this city. You don't have to obsess over me.]

Staring at those words, the very last spark of light in my eyes went completely dark.

When the sun rose, I dragged my injured leg downstairs and crouched near the trash bins in the snow.

Click.

The flame of a lighter licked the corner of a page.

Nine journals. Hundreds of clippings.

Along with all the humble love I had spent nine years pouring out.

In the crackling fire, it all curled, blackened, and turned to ash.

The morning wind blew, scattering the gray remnants into nothingness.

I stood up, checking the date circled on my phone's calendar.

One month left until my last day.

This time, I won't wait for anyone ever again.