Chapter 1

"Alexander Whitmore, I heard you're married. So why have you never introduced your wife publicly?"

As the reporter's question landed, a hush fell over the entire charity gala.

The man standing under the spotlight was Alexander Whitmore, one of Silicon Valley's most sought-after tech entrepreneurs in recent years.

And the woman standing beside him was Vivienne Laurent, the heir to the European Laurent investment family.

But the person who should have been standing beside Alex tonight was his wife, Evelyn Carter.

I sat at the farthest corner of the venue, listening to the whispers around me, my fingers unconsciously rubbing the old pocket watch in my hand.

Alex had once held my hand and promised me,

"Evelyn, as long as it keeps ticking, I'll never lose. I'll always keep it with me."

I looked at the man standing on the stage.

He was dressed in an expensive suit, with the glamorous Vivienne standing beside him.

The reporter continued asking,

"Miss Laurent has been involved in Whitmore Group's latest project with you. Many people believe she's the person who understands you best."

Alex didn't deny it.

Instead, he looked at Vivienne with a faint smile, his eyes carrying a trace of tenderness.

"Vivienne is truly exceptional."

"She has helped me a lot. She knows how to create value in her own life."

The people around me began whispering.

"So the woman who struggled with him during his startup years has already been replaced?"

"I heard she came from an ordinary family. She probably can't fit into Alex's current world."

"When a man becomes successful, he naturally chooses someone who matches his status."

After the gala ended, Vivienne approached me.

She held a glass of champagne, wearing a polite smile.

"Evelyn, I've actually always been curious."

"Why has Alex never introduced you to the outside world?"

"The reporter just asked him about it, and he didn't answer either."

She paused, her gaze falling onto the old pocket watch in my hand.

"But I think I understand now."

"Some kinds of companionship only belong to the past."

I looked up at her.

"What exactly are you trying to say?"

Vivienne smiled.

"I just think that when a man reaches Alex's position, the people beside him should be able to keep up with his changes."

"Not everyone who suffered with him in the past is suitable to stand beside him when he enjoys success."

After saying that, she turned and walked away.

And I realized that a person's contempt could hurt even more than their hatred.

I watched Alex effortlessly talking with the other guests and quietly left alone.

When I returned home, Alex was already in his study, looking through project documents.

I walked over and placed the old pocket watch on the desk.

"Do you still remember this?"

Alex lowered his eyes and glanced at it.

"Of course."

"Then why don't you wear it anymore?"

"I remember you once said that when you finally achieved success, you would keep wearing it."

"It represented the past you fought through, and it would always remind you where you came from."

Alex sighed.

"Evelyn, people can't stay trapped in the past forever."

I froze.

"The past?"

Alex leaned back in his chair, a hint of impatience appearing on his face.

"We've both changed."

"You can't expect me to always be that young man who had nothing and needed your encouragement."

I looked at him, suddenly unable to say anything.

Because he had forgotten what he once promised me.

Maybe what he said now wasn't wrong.

But all I wanted was for him to remember his promise.

That I would always stay by his side, no matter what kind of person he became.

At that moment, Alex's phone lit up.

A message from Vivienne.

It was a photo of a customized luxury brooch.

Below it was a message:

This is your congratulatory gift. I didn't get the chance to give it to you tonight. I hope it can accompany you as you enter the next stage of your life.

Alex looked at it.

A faint smile appeared on his lips.

That was a smile I hadn't seen from him in a very long time.

I lowered my eyes toward the old pocket watch on the desk.

It was still ticking.

But its owner no longer cherished it the way he once did.