Chapter 3

A week before Varys's birthday, I scoured every craft store in the city.

I wanted to give him something truly special—a hand-knitted cashmere scarf.

Varys's office was always freezing with the AC blasting, and he often burned the midnight oil.

The shop owner, a kindly old lady, looked at me with concern. "Ma'am, this cashmere yarn is quite pricey. Are you sure you want to buy it?"

She smiled gently and added, "Machine-made scarves are perfectly good too, and they'll save you time and effort."

"I want to knit it myself," I replied, running my fingers over the soft gray cashmere yarn. As I did, I imagined it wrapped around Varys's neck.

For seven straight days, I secretly knitted whenever Varys was away.

My fingers were pricked and bloody, my eyes bloodshot from exhaustion. But finally, I finished the scarf the night before his birthday.

Carefully, I placed it in a navy blue gift box, tied with a silver ribbon, and set it beside the bed.

On the morning of his birthday, Varys stepped out of the shower, water droplets glistening as they trailed down his toned chest.

Clutching the gift box tightly, I approached him, my heart pounding wildly in my chest.

With slightly trembling hands, I offered him the gift and said, "Happy birthday. I hope you like it."

Varys quirked an eyebrow as he untied the ribbon.

As he lifted the scarf out, I held my breath, my heart pounding in anticipation.

He ran his fingers over the fabric, genuine surprise flickering across his face. "Did you make this by hand?"

I replied, "Yeah, I knitted it myself. Your office is always so cold, so I thought this could..."

My voice grew softer as I watched him casually toss the scarf onto the dresser. All my excitement faded away.

"Thanks," he said absentmindedly, checking his phone. "Bria is already at the restaurant. We should get going."

He called her Bria.

My heart sank like a stone when I heard that intimate name.

Varys booked a Michelin three-star restaurant to celebrate his birthday, yet he invited Brianna.

Sitting in the restaurant, Brianna was breathtaking in a crimson dress. Seeing us, she approached with a warm smile and planted a kiss on Varys's cheek.

"Happy birthday, Varys," she said, presenting him with an exquisite box.

Varys opened the box, and I could see—even from three feet away—that the tie inside wasn't from any luxury brand. It was just an ordinary item from a brand that one could find in any random mall.

"Remember? I gave you the exact same tie on your eighteenth birthday," Brianna said with a smile.

"Back then, I was just a broke college student. I had to save up my allowance for three whole months," she added.

Varys's eyes instantly softened with tenderness.

"You still remember that?" he murmured, immediately removing his Hermès tie and replacing it with this ordinary one.

My cashmere scarf lay abandoned on the dresser, while that cheap tie received all his affection.

It felt as if an icy weight had settled in my stomach, aching with every breath.

"Oh, Jennie, you look pale," Brianna said with feigned concern. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm good. Thanks." I forced a smile.

Throughout the meal, they reminisced about shared memories—conversations I couldn't join in on.

Sitting there like an outsider, I watched as Varys laughed with an ease I rarely saw in him.

"By the way, Varys," Brianna said unexpectedly, "your mother asked me to be your plus-one at Fenn Group's anniversary gala next week."

Varys glanced at me before nodding. "Alright."

My grip on the dinner knife tightened until my knuckles turned white.

As Varys's publicly acknowledged girlfriend, I couldn't believe I was shut out of such an important gala.

"Don't take it to heart, Ms. Yates," Brianna said with a sweet tone. "It's just boring business networking."

"I understand," I replied, my voice barely audible.

On the way home, the car was shrouded in oppressive silence.

Varys focused on driving, while I gazed out at the scenery whizzing past the window. For the first time, I thought it was time for me to leave.

"Are you mad at me, babe?" Varys suddenly asked.

"No," I replied evenly. "Just a bit tired."

He reached out for my hand, but I pretended to adjust my hair and avoided his touch.

Varys frowned slightly yet said nothing.

On the night of Fenn Group's anniversary gala, I sat alone at home, scrolling through my social media feed as it flooded with photos from the event.

Varys looked dashing in a black tuxedo, while Brianna stood beside him in a stunning white mermaid gown—they looked like a perfect couple.

In one photo, they were dancing. Varys's arm wrapped tightly around Brianna's waist, and he gazed at her with such intensity that it was as if she were the only woman in the world.

It was 2 a.m. when Varys finally returned, carrying the faint scent of alcohol and someone else's perfume.

I sat on the sofa with a design magazine open in my lap, though I hadn't read a single word.

Varys loosened his tie—the one Brianna had given him—and glanced at me. "Oh, you're still up?"

I closed the magazine and looked up at him. "I've been thinking about something. Varys, can we talk?"

He poured himself a glass of whiskey and sat down across from me. "Talk about what?"

"If you still love Brianna, I can leave," I said bluntly. "I don't want to be part of this... awkward triangle."

Varys's gaze turned icy in an instant. He said sharply, "I told you, she's just a business partner."

"Since when does a business partner give you a tie or show up as your plus-one at the company anniversary gala? Or..." My voice was trembling. "Would you ever look at a business partner like that?"

"Enough!" Varys suddenly slammed his whiskey glass onto the coffee table, sending the liquid splashing across the floor. "Jennifer, don't push your luck. The life you have today exists solely because of me."

I bit my lower lip until I tasted blood.

"Yes, thank you for your care these past three years," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

I stood up. "I'll sleep in the guest room."

Varys didn't stop me.

The next morning, I quietly slipped out of the apartment and wandered the streets with no destination in mind.

Before I knew it, I'd reached the business district, where atop a glass-clad skyscraper, the words "Fenn Group" glinted in the morning sun.

Standing across the street, I gazed up at the empire Varys had built from the ground up.

Suddenly, two girls in Fenn Group uniforms walked past me.

"Did you hear? Ms. Parker is coming back. Mr. Fenn is over the moon," one girl said.

"What about Jennifer?" the other asked.

The first girl scoffed, "She's just a substitute. Why keep her around when the real deal's back? Anyway, she's been living off Mr. Fenn for three years."

Their mocking laughter stabbed into my heart like knives.

I turned and hurried off, only to bump straight into a passerby.

"Sorry, I..." My voice trailed off as I looked up and froze.

It was one of Fenn Group's senior executives—I recognized him from company photos.

"Ms. Yates?" He recognized me, his expression a bit awkward. "Did you... overhear what they were saying?"

I shook my head and tried to step around him.

He lowered his voice, trying to comfort me. "Don't take it to heart. Everyone in the company knows Mr. Fenn has always treated Ms. Parker... specially. Ever since she turned eighteen, it's been like this."

The man's words echoed in my mind.

I didn't meet Varys until I was twenty-two—too late to witness his most innocent years, forever shut out from the memories that mattered most to him.

Before I knew it, I found myself in the park. Sinking onto a bench, I let the tears blur my vision.

Suddenly, a dull thud echoed nearby, followed by cries of alarm from passersby.

"Someone's collapsed," shouted a bystander.

Before I knew it, my legs were already carrying me toward the commotion.

An elderly man with grey hair lay collapsed on the ground, his face purple as he struggled for shallow breaths.

A young woman urgently pushed through the crowd, calling out, "Move aside. I'm a nurse."

After a quick examination, she shouted, "It's a heart attack. He needs nitroglycerin."

Suddenly, I remembered—I had nitroglycerin tablets in my bag. Ever since I learned how stressful Varys's job was, I'd carried them with me, though he never actually needed them.

"Here. I got the medicine," I called out, pulling the small bottle from my bag and handing it to the nurse.

After taking the medication, the old man's breathing gradually steadied.

Before the ambulance arrived, I held his cold hand, murmuring words of comfort.

"Young lady..." He opened his eyes weakly and said to me, "Thank you..."

"Don't talk. Save your strength," I said softly, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead.

As the medical staff carried the old man away, he gripped my wrist tightly. "Go to No. 18, Willowmere Lane... Tell my grandson..."

I nodded, not really understanding what he meant, but wanting to reassure him.

It was only after the ambulance left that I noticed my white dress was smeared with blood and dirt. I was a complete mess.

It was already evening when I returned to the apartment.

Pushing open the door, I found Varys—rarely home at this hour—on the phone in the living room.

"Yes, as long as she's alright... I'll be right there." Spotting me, he hung up and asked, "Where have you been?"

"I helped an old man having a heart attack in the park," I said wearily, taking off my soiled jacket.

Varys looked me up and down skeptically. "You?"

"I happened to have the necessary medication," I replied, not wanting to elaborate.

He gave a curt nod. "Nice work." Then, grabbing his car keys, he added, "Brianna sprained her ankle. I need to check on her."

I stood there watching his figure, and suddenly, a bitter laugh escaped my lips.

I saved a stranger's life, and all I got was "Nice work." But the moment Brianna sprained her ankle, he dropped everything and rushed to her side.

That night, I dug out the passbook buried deep in my closet. Every penny Varys had given me over the past three years remained untouched except for basic expenses and my mother's medical bills.

The sum was far more than I'd expected.

I watched myself in the mirror and saw dark circles shadowing my eyes, yet a strange calm settled over me.

I stroked the neglected cashmere scarf, and for the first time, a certain resolve flashed in my eyes.

Early the next morning, I followed the old man's directions and found No. 18, Willowmere Lane.

Before me stood a time-honored house, its entrance marked by a name plaque reading "Williams Residence."

I rang the doorbell, and a young man answered—the resemblance between his features and the old man's was unmistakable.

I said to him, "Hi, I saw your grandfather at the park yesterday—"

"You're the one who saved my grandpa?" he cut in excitedly. "Come in, please. Our whole family wants to thank you."

I politely declined their offer of a reward, only promising to visit the old man in the hospital another day.

As I was leaving, I spotted a familiar figure in the courtyard—the senior executive from Fenn Group I'd bumped into yesterday.

"Ms. Yates?" He recognized me as well and approached me in surprise. "Are you acquainted with them?"

"No, it was just a coincidence yesterday..." I briefly explained what had happened.

His expression turned peculiar. "Do you know who you just saved?"

"An elderly man, I guess?" I asked.

He lowered his voice and said, "Robert Williams, the founder of Williams Group. Fenn Group's biggest competitor."

I froze in shock.

Of all people, I'd just saved the grandfather of Varys's most hated rival by sheer coincidence.

The executive hesitated and lowered his voice. "Ms. Yates, you'd better keep this from Mr. Fenn."

I nodded, but inside, a rebellious thought rose up: Why should my whole life have to revolve around Varys? What about what I want for a change?

On my way back, I took a detour to the bookstore and picked up a few interior design textbooks.

I majored in interior design in college, but I'd put it aside for years—first to care for my mother, then to be there for Varys.

As I stepped out of the bookstore with my books, the sunlight was just right.

I took a deep breath, feeling a long-lost sense of ease wash over me.