Chapter 3

On our tenth anniversary, Nathaniel kept his promise for exactly forty-three minutes.

The anniversary gala was breathtaking.

That morning, Nathaniel truly focused on me.

He walked beside me down the red carpet, his arm wrapped firmly around my waist. Before we entered the grand ballroom, he handed his private phone directly to his assistant.

"I am not available tonight," he told the assistant clearly.

Halfway through the dinner, his assistant hurried over and whispered something about Seraphina.

Nathaniel didn't hesitate.

"Handle it," Nathaniel said in a firm voice. "Anything Seraphina needs tonight goes through you."

My guarded heart wavered for a moment. Maybe this tenth time would really be different.

The dinner slowly came to an end. It was finally time for our official anniversary photograph.

The photography area in the foyer was fully set up. Behind the stage, a massive floral backdrop displayed glowing gold letters:

Nathaniel & Elena Ashford

Ten Years

Nathaniel walked over and took my hand. His grip was warm and tight.

The photographer raised his lens and began adjusting the studio lights.

Right then, fast footsteps broke the quiet. The assistant rushed back into the foyer, his face pale and covered in sweat.

"Mr. Ashford," the assistant gasped, lowering his voice. "The media just leaked the old video from the runaway wedding ten years ago."

Nathaniel's brow furrowed. "Where is she?"

"She is in the private lounge," the assistant replied quickly. "The PR team, security guards, and her personal staff are all with her."

She was not alone. She had an entire team to protect her.

"Let them handle it," I said.

The assistant hesitated. "She refuses to open the door. She says she can’t breathe."

Nathaniel’s entire body went rigid.

Those exact words pulled him back to ten years ago, when Seraphina had suffered her breakdown before running away.

Nathaniel still stood next to me. He did not let go of my hand immediately. He was trying to force himself to stay.

Then, the assistant's phone lit up on his palm. A message from Seraphina appeared on the screen:

[I know I promised I wouldn’t call you tonight. Please. I can’t do this alone.]

Nathaniel stared at the screen. Slowly, he turned to look at me.

"I’ll escort her through the private side exit," he said softly.

I looked down at our intertwined fingers.

"And our picture?" I asked.

Nathaniel glanced at the photographer, who was waiting by the tripod.

"They can wait five minutes," he said.

Five minutes. Just this once. We can do ours later.

It was the exact same excuse as the first nine times.

I held his gaze.

"If you leave now, don’t ask me to wait," I said calmly.

Nathaniel looked startled for a second. But he didn't believe me. For ten years, I had always stood in the exact spot where he left me.

He leaned down and kissed my forehead.

"Five minutes," he whispered.

Then, his fingers slipped from mine.

He turned around and walked away toward the private lounge.

I stood alone in front of the ten-year anniversary backdrop.

The photographer waited for two minutes. Then, he looked at me awkwardly.

"Mrs. Ashford," he asked in a low voice. "Should we wait for your husband?"

I stared at the empty space beside me.

"No," I replied evenly.

I turned around and walked away from the lights.

I went straight to the VIP dressing room and locked the door behind me.

I took off the heavy, custom gown and changed into simple casual clothes. Then, I picked up the small suitcase I had hidden in the closet days ago.

I put on my coat, pulled my suitcase, and walked out the main entrance of the hotel into the cold night.

At that very moment, Nathaniel was rushing Seraphina out of the lounge.

To avoid the media crowd in the main hall, the PR team routed them past the side corridor near the media entrance.

The floral backdrop was still standing right there.

Flashbulbs erupted in the dark. Paparazzi cameras fired continuously, capturing Nathaniel wrapping his arm protectively around Seraphina’s shoulders as they rushed past.

To control the sudden media storm, the foundation’s official account quickly released one of the photos with an emergency statement.

I sat inside my car outside the venue. My screen lit up with a news notification.

I tapped the screen.

The tenth official Ashford photograph had just been published.

Nathaniel stood in the center of the shot. Seraphina clung tightly to his side. And right behind them, gleaming in gold, was the sign: Ten Years.

Then, a text message popped up on my screen from Nathaniel:

[She’s safe now. I’m heading back to the photo area. Don’t leave.]

I read the text once. Then, I turned off the phone and threw it into the passenger seat.

He had asked me to wait ten times.

There would never be an eleventh.