Chapter 4

I scoffed and said, "Love? Is that the kind of love where you vanish for seven hours during our wedding, just to hook up with your ex-girlfriend in the lounge?"

The phone went dead silent on his end.

Aaron was dumbfounded as if he'd just been zapped by a thunderbolt. He definitely didn't expect me to find out so fast, and with all the details.

I said, "Aaron, you kneeling there isn't about asking for my forgiveness. You're doing it for yourself. For that hard-earned 'success' you cling to, and your pathetic, ridiculous ego. Drop the act. Doesn't it make you sick?"

With that, I hung up, not giving him a chance to say anything.

I told the driver, "Take me to the office."

The Bentley glided past Aaron, who was still kneeling in the rain, without a second glance.

Leaving the chaos behind, Aaron's silhouette faded in the rearview mirror, shrinking to a blurry speck.

I leaned back in my seat, closed my eyes, but that sweet, lingering gardenia scent still haunted me.

It was the same scent Iris had on when I first met her. That was three years ago, not long after Aaron and I got together.

He brought me along to his college alumni reunion.

Iris was his ex-girlfriend, and she was the star of the party.

She wore a fiery red dress, looking absolutely stunning, clinging to some sleazy guy who was at least twenty years older than her, flashing a seductive smile.

All night, she kept flirting with Aaron, whether she meant to or not.

"Aaron, long time no see. Didn't expect you'd be doing so well, landing the Welch family's heiress," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Aaron frowned, pulled me closer behind him, and said coldly, "Iris, mind your words."

Later, Aaron told me they were college sweethearts, totally head over heels for each other.

When graduation came, he wanted to stay in Otrul and work hard to build his future. But Iris thought he was too poor to give her the life she wanted, so she ended up in the arms of a wealthy older man.

When Aaron talked about it, his tone was full of relief and a kind of gratitude that I came into his life and took her place.

Aaron said, "Nancy, thank you for choosing me when I had nothing. Not like her. She only ever saw the money."

I believed him back then. I thought he was someone who stood for something, had ambition, and knew how to be grateful.

Thinking about it, it was honestly absurd. It was not that he didn't love money. He just hated being shamed by it even more.

It was not that he didn't love Iris. He just hated her betrayal and her contempt for him back then even more.

So now that he was finally successful, and Iris was cozying up to him again, he couldn't wait to get back at her in the most raw, straightforward way he could think of.

He just wanted to satisfy that twisted need to prove himself that had been simmering inside for years.

And me? My wedding? The Welch family's reputation? We were all just props in his revenge show. What a deal he made.

"Miss Welch, we're at the office," the driver said, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I opened my eyes, and the Welch Group's skyscraper loomed in front of me.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the car door and walked inside.

My dad was sharp in business, but at home, he always kept me safe and protected.

He'd always say, "Nancy, you just focus on being our happy little princess. Leave the tough job of making money to me."

So after college, instead of joining the family business, I opened my own art gallery and followed my passion.

But today, I wasn't going to play the clueless little princess anymore.

Thanks to Aaron, I finally learned. Trusting my fate to anyone else, whether it was my dad or the guy I love, was stupid. I wanted to take back my own power.

I went straight up to the chairman's office on the top floor.

My dad's assistant was visibly surprised to see me, but still opened the door politely.

My dad was in the middle of a video conference. When he saw me come in, he hesitated for a moment.

Then turned to the international executives on the screen and said, "Let's wrap up for today. My team will be in touch regarding the specifics."

My dad ended the call and turned to me. "Hey, what brings you to the office? Is home getting a bit too much for you?"

"Dad." I walked up to him, meeting his gaze with unwavering determination. "I want to work at Welch Group."

My dad clearly hadn't expected me to say that. He paused for a moment, then asked, "Nancy, are you sure about this? It's a lot harder than running your gallery."

"I'm sure," I said.