Chapter 1
My fiancé's kept woman forced her way in front of me.
Tearful and desperate, she pleaded, "As long as I can stay with Mr. Collins, I can be the kept one! Please, Mrs. Collins, do me this kindness!"
I just watched her calmly, reminded of how love had once blinded my younger self, too.
I chuckled.
Her voice trembled as if terrified.
"Your marriage is just a Collins-Gomez alliance... He's never even slept with you, has he?"
My robe slipped, revealing the unmistakable marks James had left on my skin.
The girl's hopes turned to ashes. With forced grace, she muttered, "Then... May you have a happy life together."
Before leaving, she asked for a parting settlement.
"How much?" I asked.
Wiping her tears, she declared, "One million. I will cut all ties with Mr. Collins!"
I nearly choked on my laughter.
"How about ten million—to wish you and James a lifetime of happiness?"
"Collins Group's second heir, James, further expands his business territory; he may become the next leader."
"Collins Group's heir apparent makes emergency return, position under threat."
"Collins Group keeps its promise. Rumor has it that James will marry the orphan from the Gomez family."
The sound from the TV suddenly cut off.
I woke from the boundless haze, staring blankly out the window.
A butterfly, fluttering its iridescent wings, landed on the windowsill as if beckoning to me.
I rushed to the balcony, reaching out.
The butterfly, as if prepared, gently lands on my fingertip.
Voices of conversation came from below.
"Mrs. Collins has been asleep for a whole day. Could something be wrong?"
"What could be wrong? She's just like the living dead. What else can she do but sleep? She can't even go out."
It was Emily, the steward, who held the highest position in this villa apart from James.
"Wasn't her condition improving? Why is she still sleeping so much?"
Emily clicked her tongue. "The doctor said her severe depression has eased to moderate. I don't see any difference."
"Can you believe she's been sick for almost five years now? It just keeps coming back, never getting better. Mr. Collins is such a good man, yet he's stuck with such a sickly woman."
The word "sickly woman" seems to strike a chord with Emily, and her voice grows louder. "James took pity on her after her parents died, sheltering her out of kindness. And how does she repay him? She treats him like an enemy. She's so ungrateful."
"That's right. Last time Mr. Collins came back, she had a relapse. She didn't speak or eat for three whole days, which made him so angry that he hasn't come back since. Let's see, it's been almost two months."
"Hey, have you noticed Mrs. Collins's condition seems to improve when Mr. Collins isn't around?" another voice chimed in. "Just the other day, she told me the garden was full of butterflies and even smiled!"
"She smiled?" Emily's voice dripped with sarcasm. "How rare. Next thing you know, she'll latch onto you! That jinx brought ruin to her whole family. Do you want that bad luck?"
"Oh, come on, Emily," the voice pleaded fearfully, "I care about Mr. Collins just as much as you do. Please don't curse me like that."
Emily spat viciously before stomping off.
I lowered my head. The butterfly had already slipped from my fingertip without me noticing.
Whispers filled the hallway as the gossip continued.
"How can a servant speak of Mrs. Collins like that?"
"Rumor has it James is illegitimate. Emily came with him when he was acknowledged by the Collins family. They say she's his aunt."
"Now that James is fighting Wyatt for succession...We don't understand business matters, but Wyatt already has twin sons, while James is stuck with this fiancée."
"She is occupying the position, neither living well nor dying. If they get married, when will she ever have a child?"
"No wonder Emily's frantic. She probably wishes she could hand Mrs. Collins a knife to kill herself!"
"That 'knife' has already been handed over," a man chimed in. "Mrs. Collins just hasn't done it yet. It won't be long. We'd better start looking for new jobs."
The gossip suddenly stopped.
Suddenly, a thunderous noise rang out, and in an instant, the courtyard was enveloped in swirling water spray.
Several people in the corridor came to their senses and kept complaining.
"Hey, Owen, weren't you supposed to be watering the flowers? Why are you watering us instead?"
"Ugh! Now I'm soaked all over!"
"Sorry, sorry! The water pipe suddenly burst..."
Mist settled on my cheeks, clearing my thoughts.
The estate gates stood open, though I hadn't noticed when.
Backlit by sunlight, a suited man stood with one hand in his pocket, the other holding roses.
His eyes, once cold and world-weary, softened into a radiant smile as soon as they met mine.
In my memory, James rarely smiled.
Back then, he was the illegitimate son Gabriel had reluctantly acknowledged because of public pressure, and no one in the family liked him.
He always had a tight expression, his whole body exuding coldness like a high wall.
When I visited the Collins family as a child, I avoided him like everyone else.
My father and Gabriel had built their film studio from scratch during the industry's golden age, eventually rising to become market leaders.