Chapter 1

On the way to my uncle's house for Christmas, fireworks sparkled outside the car window.

Since Huge Ford, the top heir in Kuciwood, claimed he was overseas on business, I didn't even dare to call him during the holiday.

At a red light, I spotted him bending down to light a sparkler for Molly Wells, the Wells family's daughter, who was scared of fire, his face full of doting affection.

That was something he always said was way too childish, and he'd never do it with me.

Our eyes met through the car window. His brows furrowed, but he didn't look even a little rattled.

Instead, he waited for me to jump out and throw a tantrum like I used to, so he'd end up embarrassed.

But I quietly rolled up the privacy-tinted window and softly told the driver, "The light's green. Let's go."

*****

My phone screen lit up with Huge's name. I stared at his name on the screen until it hung up by itself. Right after, a video call request popped up.

I hit answer. Huge's chiseled face showed up on the screen.

The backdrop was a hotel suite, oil paintings hanging on the walls, soft golden light casting over his half-wet hair.

He was in a white bathrobe, collar loosely open, holding a glass of red wine.

"Hello, Mia." His voice was deep and husky. "I just finished a meeting, still fighting jet lag, and my head's pounding."

He pressed his fingers to his brow, frowning. "Why didn't you answer? What are you up to?"

I watched him silently.

Ten minutes ago, I saw him wearing that black cashmere coat, out in the snow, bending down to light a sparkler for Molly Wells, right in front of my eyes.

Now, that coat was probably hanging up somewhere in this suite, and for all I know, Molly could be in the room next door or outside in the hall.

I didn't expose him and raised my wine glass to the camera. "I'm having a drink."

Huge's brows furrowed instantly. He set his glass down and leaned toward the screen. "Where are you? Why are you out drinking so late?"

His voice was laced with unmistakable authority and disapproval. "Go home. You know I hate it when you come back reeking of alcohol."

Back then, I'd be scrambling to explain myself, telling him how hurt I was, spilling everything I'd seen, and then freaking out, demanding why he'd lie to me.

But now, I stared at him through the screen silently. Then, I said, "Huge, you know, today's Christmas Eve.

"Aren't you supposed to be overseas, busy closing some billion-dollar deal? I'm not about to play the lonely girlfriend for someone who's not even around."

Huge's expression froze. For seven years, I'd never talked to him like this. Back then, I was always meek and obedient, doing whatever he told me without a word of protest.

Huge sighed, reaching out as if he could touch me through the screen, "Come on, don't make trouble.

"I know you're upset I couldn't be there for Christmas. Be good and head home, alright? Once this project's done, I'll come back to you. It's not safe out there. I worry about you being out alone."

"No need to worry," I said, flashing him a quick smile at the camera. "I'm not a little kid anymore, Mr. Ford."

Before he could say anything else, I ended the call.

My phone buzzed again. It was a WhatsApp message from Huge.

Huge: [Pretty sure I saw your car. What are you doing out in this freezing weather instead of staying home? If you end up catching a cold, you know it'll break my heart.]

I stared at the message, my finger hovering over the screen.

He noticed. He spotted my car, and he knew I'd caught him with Molly. But he wasn't even fazed.

He couldn't even be bothered to come up with a better lie. He brushed it off, pretending to care, as if nothing had happened.

He was basically telling me, "Don't make a fuss, and don't overthink it. I'm pretending to care, that's all."

I turned off my phone and leaned my head back against the seat.

The driver, Wade, asked quietly from the front, "Ms. Carter, are we heading to the Ford residence or your apartment?"

"To my apartment," I replied.

*****

At noon the next day, Huge's assistant called. "Ms. Carter, Mr. Ford would like you to accompany him to a private party tonight."

I put on some light makeup, slipped into a black dress, and arrived at the club right on time. I pushed open the heavy door to the private suite.

Huge was sitting in the center of the leather sofa, legs crossed, holding an unlit cigarette between his fingers. Molly was sitting next to him.

Huge's friends sized me up, then glanced at Molly, their gazes growing more intrigued and playful.

Molly was wearing an oversized white shirt. The collar was wide open, showing off one bare, soft shoulder, and the hem barely covered her upper thighs. She looked extra delicate in it.

I recognized that shirt. Last Valentine's Day, I spent a whole month hand-embroidering the initials C&F on the cuffs of the custom shirt.

When Huge got it, he barely glanced at it before tossing it aside, saying something with such obvious hand-stitching wasn't right for business meetings.

Now, that shirt, supposedly not fit for any business occasion, was draped on Molly.

I walked over.

Molly looked startled, instinctively ducking behind Huge and grabbing onto his sleeve for dear life.

He turned smoothly, positioning himself right in front of her.

Huge glanced up at me. "You made it."

Molly peeked out from behind him, her eyes looked a bit teary, her voice shaky and timid. "Mia, it's not what you think."

She bit her lip, tears welling up in her eyes. "Last night, I was with Huge. I accidentally spilled red wine on my dress, and I didn't have anything else to change into, so Huge lent me his spare shirt.

"Mia, please don't be angry. I'll take it off and give it back to you right now."

As she spoke, she reached for the buttons, but her hands trembled so much that she struggled for ages and couldn't even undo a single one.

Huge stopped her trembling hand, shooting me a frown. "That's enough. It's a shirt. Is it really worth all this drama? Molly doesn't know any better. Are you seriously going to blame her for something so trivial?"

He watched me, waiting for me to tear up and start arguing, or maybe storm out like I used to.

That way, he could easily say I was being dramatic and unreasonable.

I stood still, my gaze landing right on the fraying cuffs of the shirt Molly had on. The embroidery there was coming undone.

"I'm not angry." I walked over to the table, grabbed the decanter, and poured myself a glass of wine. "Here is a reminder, Mr. Ford."

I raised my glass and looked Huge right in the eye. "That shirt could really use a trip to the dry cleaner. After last night's wine spill and wearing it all night, the collar's already starting to yellow."

With that, I tossed back the wine in one gulp.

Huge's expression turned cold in an instant.

He stared at me, his fingers tightening around Molly's wrist.

Molly winced in pain, but Huge still didn't let go.

"Mia," Huge said. "Do you always have to talk with that snide tone? Molly's a guest here. Is this really how you treat someone as the hostess?"

There was nothing but irony in the way he said it. If I were really the hostess, then why did my fiancé spend Christmas Eve setting off fireworks with another woman?

If I were really the hostess, then why was the shirt I painstakingly made for him now on someone else?

I set my glass down, the bottom clinking crisply against the marble tabletop.

"You must be joking, Mr. Ford." I straightened my dress and turned to walk out. "Since you have a guest to entertain, I won't spoil your mood.

"After all, I wouldn't want anyone thinking your girlfriend is the kind of jealous woman who gets upset over a dirty shirt."