Chapter 2

Back then, I tore up my acceptance letter from a prestigious university to stay by Nathan's side.

When my mom found out, she slapped me hard, her voice trembling with pain and disappointment. "All these years, I sent you to the best schools, gave you piano lessons, and took you around the world to broaden your horizons.

"I didn't do all that only to watch you end up waiting on some man.

"Sweetheart, I don't want you to repeat my mistakes. I worry about you, but I can't protect you for the rest of your life. A woman who willingly demeans herself and can't see past her own little bubble doesn't deserve to be my daughter."

I refused to listen to her.

In the end, my mom left the country with the plane ticket she'd bought for me, her heart full of disappointment. Before she left, she published a notice in the newspaper, officially cutting ties with me.

My mom's worried, reproachful face and Nathan's resentful, triumphant expression kept overlapping in my mind. I collapsed, feeling weak and defeated. "Mom, I'm sorry. I was wrong. I messed up so badly."

Just before I lost consciousness, I thought I saw Nathan rushing toward me, guilt etched across his face.

When I came to again, there was the secretary from the Grant Group, hands planted firmly on her hips, talking down to me about something in that imperious tone.

It turned out that Nathan's scandal had tanked the Grant Group's stock price, so the company had us play the perfect couple for the cameras to do some damage control.

Before we got to the venue, the secretary kept pushing me to memorize my lines.

I glanced at this routine I had been through a thousand times and gave a faint smile. "I know it by heart."

Nathan was already there before me. He must have gotten an earful from his grandfather, William Grant.

Standing next to him was Yvette Moore, dressed in a plain, understated outfit, with a smooth, round pearl hanging from her neck.

When Nathan saw me staring at Yvette, he immediately stepped between us, shielding her with his body, his expression guarded and wary as he watched my reaction.

This scene felt all too familiar. Only the leading lady had changed.

Back then, I was the talk of high society, chasing Nathan everywhere he went. The social elite loved to gossip about it over their lattes.

Whenever those trust fund kids and heiresses caught me, they'd never miss a chance to poke fun. They called Nathan the runaway groom and me the desperate bride hot on his heels.

And every time, Nathan would appear out of nowhere, calling them out and roasting each one right back.

He'd say, "We call this foreplay: she runs after me outside, I run after her inside.

"You. If you learned a thing or two from Vivian, your husband's side chick wouldn't dare show up at your door with her love child, trying to storm your castle.

"And you, always chasing after the richest heiress, threw away a fortune on her, bought her a house, bought her a car, and you still weren't even good enough to be her backup plan."

The past dissolved like morning mist.

Maybe Nathan once loved me, after all.

Nathan stepped forward, slipped his arm around my waist, and led me into the venue.

He leaned in, his head close to mine, whispering in my ear. To everyone else, we looked like the picture-perfect couple, but really, it was a warning. "Don't pull any stunts tonight."

I smiled. "How thoughtful. Diving a hundred feet for pearls, and tossing me the defective leftover you found lying around."

His grip on my waist tightened a bit.

Same old formula, same old routine. Speech, bow, apology.

Then came the finale. As always, Nathan would seal the show with a kiss to show his love.

With a wall of cameras pointed at us, the flashes were so blinding I could barely keep my eyes open.

I caught Nathan leaning in, his lips coming closer.

On instinct, I turned my face away, and his lips brushed my cheek, missing their mark.

The camera shutters clicked furiously, and the Grant Group's security and staff jumped in to restore order amid the chaos.

In the middle of the packed crowd, I was escorted out through the back door by security.

In less than an hour, the photos of me refusing Nathan's kiss, along with headlines screaming that our marriage was falling apart, went viral. The story got tens of thousands of reposts.

I let out a weary sigh and went back to packing up my things.

Three years. Not long, but not short either. In that house, everything I actually owned fit into a single suitcase.

I had just finished printing my resignation letter when Nathan's secretary called. "Ms. Blake, Mr. Grant's drunk again. He refuses to leave unless you come pick him up. No one else can get through to him."

I threw on my coat and headed out the door.

This would be the last time I brought him home. At least I was ending things properly.