Chapter 2
The two of them let out low, stifled breaths from time to time.
When things grew more heated, I heard his voice, familiar and strange all at once, "Ruby Mayfield, red plum blossoms look the most beautiful on you."
So her name was Ruby Mayfield.
But there wasn't a single shareholder in the company with the last name Mayfield.
He had lied from the start, claiming she was a shareholder's daughter so he could force me to give her blood.
Tears streamed down my face.
I loved his landscape paintings, and I'd begged him more than once to paint one for me, but every time he brushed me off, saying he was too busy.
Yet the video still wasn't over.
The woman breathed out sweetly, "The brush feels so soft and cool. Has your wife ever felt something this hot and cold at the same time?"
His breathing turned heavier. "If you post this and let her see it, just wait and see what I do to you..."
I stared at the red plum blossoms swaying under Charles's brush and broke down on the spot, like I'd been dropped into an ice pit.
The pain in my lower belly kept spreading.
I sent Charles three messages, and he never replied.
A kind cab driver took me home.
The house was pitch-black.
Charles hadn't come back.
I opened Ruby's TikTok and scrolled all the way to the bottom.
Her first video was from three years ago.
It had been filmed in Charles's office, and on the desk sat a thermos painted with a starry sky.
The caption read: [Boss, I spent three hours simmering this bone broth myself. I threw away the fish soup your wife brought. That kind of food isn't good for someone who's injured. She wasn't worth risking your career to save.]
[I'd trade a whole year's worth of good luck just to see you recover sooner.]
Staring at that video made my stomach churn.
I bit down so hard on my lip that I drew blood without even noticing.
That starry thermos had been a gift from Charles.
Inside it had been the pork and mushroom soup I spent all morning making for him while fighting pregnancy nausea and the heat.
I delivered that kind of soup to him every single day myself, and every single time it was taken by the front desk.
The second video was posted three months later.
The background was Promise Ridge Park in Sunbay, where a giant flower truck stood packed with 9,999 red plum blossoms.
On its side, a huge LED screen read: Ruby, it's been 100 days since we met!
The man knelt on one knee and slipped a diamond ring onto the woman's finger. "Anything I promised you, I'll give you."
All the hurt I'd buried surged up at once.
We never had a wedding. Those were all things he'd once promised me.
That same day, he had sent me to Lakeview City to negotiate a contract.
The client got me drunk on purpose to make things difficult for me.
That was the day I lost our first baby, and my body was never the same afterward. I went to the hospital hundreds of times a year, hoping I can get pregnant once more.
I covered my mouth as heavy tears hit the blanket one after another.
Charles didn't come home until very late, carrying the strong scent of red plum blossoms with him.
"Stella, are you feeling any better?" He turned my body to face him.
"Why are you crying? Is this really because I didn't go to the hospital with you? Are you seriously throwing a fit over something this small?" he snapped in irritation.
I didn't answer. After staring at me for three seconds, he suddenly lay down beside me, pulled me into his arms, and patted my back again and again. "Alright, alright. Let me make you feel better. Don't be sad anymore."
When I struggled to get free, I tugged at the old injury in his right arm. He sucked in a breath, and I was thrown right back to the car accident three years ago.