Chapter 3 · Goodbye, William

My infatuation with William began when I was eighteen.

I pursued him for years, to the point of becoming a nuisance.

Then, over a year ago, came his departmental dinner.

William emerged from the private room, seemingly tipsy and heading for the restroom.

Meanwhile, reeling from my family's company collapsing and my mother's illness, I had just been turned down by a relative I'd approached for help at that very restaurant.

Distraught, I was leaving when I bumped into him in the hallway.

Preoccupied with family crises, I hadn't seen William in a while.

I moved to sidestep him, but he caught my arm.

His gaze was hazy, almost tender. "Come home with me?"

I said nothing, just tilted my head, studying him.

Without waiting for a reply, he pulled me toward the elevator.

Startled, I frantically pushed his hand away.

William turned back, looked down at me, and said, "If you need money, you can ask me."

I snapped my head up, looking at him in shock and disbelief.

William took my arm again, earnest. "I can help you. Come home with me. I'll give you whatever you need."

As if doubting I'd believe him, he pulled out his wallet and pressed it into my hand.

I'd never seen William like this: gentle, full of affection.

"William, you've had too much to drink," I said.

He shook his head. "I haven't."

I asked him again, "Do you like me?"

The question felt absurd even as I asked it.

After all my years chasing him, if he had felt anything for me, wouldn't things have been different between us long ago?

Yet he nodded. "I like you."

"Who am I?" I asked.

"Emily Grant," he murmured.

At his words, Something seemed to explode inside my skull.

I went home with him.

The morning after our reckless night, Sophie showed up at his door in tears.

Her crying and accusations ended with William turning on me, furious and contemptuous. "Stop playing dumb. If I hadn't been drunk out of my mind, do you think anything would have happened between us?"

That was when I learned that in the two months I hadn't seen William, he and Sophie had gotten together.

That night, drunk, he had mistaken me for her.

And Sophie, having just changed jobs, was struggling financially herself.

I was convinced William hadn't been that far gone, not so out of it.

But after his scathing remark, all my arguments died on my lips.

Considering he'd always looked down on me, what he said made a cruel kind of sense.

I was the one who'd lost my head and followed him home.

As for him calling me "Emily" that night, I decided I must have misheard.

I had no intention of clinging to William.

After Sophie's tearful scene, I left quickly.

But a few days later, the hospital called. A liver matching my mother's had been found.

The transplant, however, came with a staggering price tag. The surgery alone would cost over 150 thousand dollars.

With my father in prison and debts piling up, I had exhausted every avenue for help.

That night, I lay awake until dawn. In the end, only one name surfaced: William.

Faced with a choice between doing something despicable and giving up on my mother, I chose the former.

I went to the university where William taught.

I told him, "Before I expose what happened that night, you have a choice. Lend me 150 thousand dollars, or marry me."

It was the first time I'd uttered something so shameless, and my face burned.

William came from a strict, scholarly family where reputation was paramount.

Now, as a respected professor, his name was everything.

Marriage was out of the question, but 150 thousand dollars wasn't a hardship for him.

My hands, buried in my coat pockets, trembled, nails digging into my palms.

My face stung with shame, but I had to stand my ground. I told myself that I would pay him back.

William looked down at me.

His expression made it impossible to meet his eyes.

I was on the verge of crumbling, ready to flee, when I heard his voice, dripping with scorn. "Then I'll marry you."

My head shot up in disbelief.

He gave a low, humorless laugh. "Emily, if I'm miserable, you won't be happy either."

True to his word, William married me.

Always so rational, he must have been driven mad by anger.

He hated me enough to ruin his own life along with mine.

On our wedding night, Sophie was heartbroken, crying her eyes out.

William, filled with pity, rushed to her side and stayed with her the entire night.

Now that I was gone, he must finally be free.

Chapter 3

My infatuation with William began when I was eighteen.

I pursued him for years, to the point of becoming a nuisance.

Then, over a year ago, came his departmental dinner.

William emerged from the private room, seemingly tipsy and heading for the restroom.

Meanwhile, reeling from my family's company collapsing and my mother's illness, I had just been turned down by a relative I'd approached for help at that very restaurant.

Distraught, I was leaving when I bumped into him in the hallway.

Preoccupied with family crises, I hadn't seen William in a while.

I moved to sidestep him, but he caught my arm.

His gaze was hazy, almost tender. "Come home with me?"

I said nothing, just tilted my head, studying him.

Without waiting for a reply, he pulled me toward the elevator.

Startled, I frantically pushed his hand away.

William turned back, looked down at me, and said, "If you need money, you can ask me."

I snapped my head up, looking at him in shock and disbelief.

William took my arm again, earnest. "I can help you. Come home with me. I'll give you whatever you need."

As if doubting I'd believe him, he pulled out his wallet and pressed it into my hand.

I'd never seen William like this: gentle, full of affection.

"William, you've had too much to drink," I said.

He shook his head. "I haven't."

I asked him again, "Do you like me?"

The question felt absurd even as I asked it.

After all my years chasing him, if he had felt anything for me, wouldn't things have been different between us long ago?

Yet he nodded. "I like you."

"Who am I?" I asked.

"Emily Grant," he murmured.

At his words, Something seemed to explode inside my skull.

I went home with him.

The morning after our reckless night, Sophie showed up at his door in tears.

That was when I learned that in the two months I hadn't seen William, he and Sophie had gotten together.

That night, drunk, he had mistaken me for her.

And Sophie, having just changed jobs, was struggling financially herself.

I was convinced William hadn't been that far gone, not so out of it.

But after his scathing remark, all my arguments died on my lips.

Considering he'd always looked down on me, what he said made a cruel kind of sense.

I was the one who'd lost my head and followed him home.

As for him calling me "Emily" that night, I decided I must have misheard.

I had no intention of clinging to William.

After Sophie's tearful scene, I left quickly.

But a few days later, the hospital called. A liver matching my mother's had been found.

The transplant, however, came with a staggering price tag. The surgery alone would cost over 150 thousand dollars.

With my father in prison and debts piling up, I had exhausted every avenue for help.

That night, I lay awake until dawn. In the end, only one name surfaced: William.

Faced with a choice between doing something despicable and giving up on my mother, I chose the former.

I went to the university where William taught.

I told him, "Before I expose what happened that night, you have a choice. Lend me 150 thousand dollars, or marry me."

It was the first time I'd uttered something so shameless, and my face burned.

William came from a strict, scholarly family where reputation was paramount.

Now, as a respected professor, his name was everything.

Marriage was out of the question, but 150 thousand dollars wasn't a hardship for him.

My hands, buried in my coat pockets, trembled, nails digging into my palms.

My face stung with shame, but I had to stand my ground. I told myself that I would pay him back.

William looked down at me.

His expression made it impossible to meet his eyes.

I was on the verge of crumbling, ready to flee, when I heard his voice, dripping with scorn. "Then I'll marry you."

My head shot up in disbelief.

He gave a low, humorless laugh. "Emily, if I'm miserable, you won't be happy either."

True to his word, William married me.

Always so rational, he must have been driven mad by anger.

He hated me enough to ruin his own life along with mine.

On our wedding night, Sophie was heartbroken, crying her eyes out.

William, filled with pity, rushed to her side and stayed with her the entire night.

Now that I was gone, he must finally be free.