Chapter 3

My stomach churned violently, worse than when I'd first seen those photos.

Tara tilted her face up, seeking a kiss. Lachlan didn't push her away—he just smiled helplessly and tapped her forehead with his finger.

"Stop it. What if someone sees?"

Tara shook his arm insistently, her voice coquettish:

"So what if they see? Your fiancée loves you so much that even if she found out, she'd just assume I seduced you."

Lachlan's face hardened, his voice cold with warning:

"I told you clearly before we got together—I have my responsibilities and my boundaries. Harper is the person I'm going to marry. That will never change."

Tara pouted and pulled an exquisite velvet box from her purse, holding it out to Lachlan.

"Okay, okay, don't be mad. I promise I won't make a scene in front of her. Look what I got you!"

"Can we call our rings Devotion too?"

Lachlan's expression stiffened for a moment. He looked at Tara, and finally smiled:

"You little vixen."

I watched him accept that ring and slide it onto his ring finger.

The design of that ring was seventy to eighty percent similar to the wedding ring he'd just described to me—the one supposedly inspired by my painting.

The last trace of warmth I'd felt for these fifteen years completely dissipated.

I recorded this final scene, put away my phone, turned around, and hailed a cab.

Back home, I didn't turn on the lights.

In the darkness, I sat on the sofa, replaying that video over and over.

Watching the hesitation that flashed across Lachlan's face when he put on that ring, followed by his eventual surrender.

None of it was an accident.

That laptop, that wallpaper—all of it was a trap Tara had carefully designed.

Just waiting for me, the legitimate fiancée, to personally uncover my husband's other face.

She'd succeeded. My world, along with those fifteen years of love, shattered completely.

After sending this video to Zoey as well, I acted as if nothing had happened, quietly waiting for the day of the engagement party.

Lachlan was probably feeling guilty—he became even more attentive and considerate toward me.

The more he acted this way, the more disgusted I felt.

The night before the engagement party, Lachlan excitedly brought over an exquisite gift box, his face wearing a tender smile.

"Harper, come quick! Look at the dress I had custom-made for you. You'll look absolutely beautiful wearing it at tomorrow's engagement."

He opened the box like presenting a treasure. Inside was a champagne-colored mermaid gown.

The hem was studded with tiny crystals that sparkled gently under the light.

Then he knelt on one knee and opened a velvet box.

Inside lay a diamond ring with an intricate design. The lines winding around the band were the composition from my painting Devotion.

He looked up at me, his eyes brimming with love:

"Harper, this is our Devotion. It will be like my love for you—eternal and unchanging."

"After tomorrow, you'll be my wife. Harper, I've waited so long for this day."

His voice carried a barely perceptible nervousness, his fingertips trembling slightly.

I looked at myself reflected in his eyes—the girl who had once been full of joy and hope for the future now felt only a barren coldness.

I didn't extend my hand. I just quietly watched him, watched the anticipation in his eyes gradually freeze and finally turn into unease.

He asked tentatively, "Harper? Don't you like it?"

I slowly shook my head, my voice flat: "I like it. It's beautiful."

He visibly relaxed and tried to take my hand to put the ring on me.

But I gently moved away, taking the ring box from his hand. Looking at those winding lines, I suddenly smiled.

"What if tomorrow... I ran away from the wedding? What would you do?"