Chapter 2

Millie POV

Time ticked on, one agonizing minute after another.

Greyson's expression grew darker.

He picked up his phone several times, his finger hovering over the screen.

But each time, he settled back.

His jaw was clenched.

Then Mr. and Mrs. Winslet approached, their faces set in grim disapproval.

"Greyson," Mrs. Winslet said sharply, "when will the marking ceremony begin?"

"Just a little longer," he muttered, voice edged with impatience.

His fingers pressed hard against the gift box in his hands.

Mrs. Winslet let out a chilling, dismissive scoff..

"As expected from someone of such low breeding—no manners whatsoever. Even on a day like this, she dares to be late."

Mr. Winslet didn't bother to soften his tone.

"I told you, son, marrying a woman like that would only disgrace us. And now look, our family's become the laughingstock of the entire pack."

Greyson's lips pressed into a thin, tight line. He said nothing.

I had hoped that he would, at the very least, offer an excuse for me, or attempt some kind of defense.

But silence can wound deeper than words.

Eliza moved in, smoothly linking her arm through Mrs. Winslet's.

"Please don't blame Greyson," she said sweetly. "He's only guilty of caring too much. That woman simply fooled him."

Mrs. Winslet looked at Eliza, , a smile of profound relief spreading across her face.

"Eliza is so refined. That lowly creature doesn't possess an ounce of her."

"She thinks by keeping us waiting, we'll grow desperate and beg her to come," Mrs. Winslet scoffed. "Ridiculous."

Greyson's hand tightened around the box until the cardboard crumpled beneath his palm.

"Enough, Mother," he cut her off, , the tension in his voice barely controlled. "We made an agreement. Let's not forget that."

"Don't be upset," Eliza soothed, "Millie comes from a humble background, she doesn't know the proper rules.

"But Greyson, you really should keep her in line next time. Otherwise, she'll only embarrass you further."

Mrs. Winslet sighed, then turned to her husband. "We'll wait one more hour. If she doesn't show, Eliza will take her place. That's as far as my patience goes."

I knew they talked ill of me behind my back, but usually, I let it slide when I couldn't hear it.

Now, watching their undisguised contempt firsthand, my spirit felt pierced by a thousand needles.

Eliza reached for the crushed gift box in Greyson's hand.

She gave him a warm, proprietary smile.

"Open this, Greyson. Try on the gift I brought you."

He tore open the box. Inside was a watch.

His tightly furrowed brow finally smoothed out.

"It's beautiful. Thank you."

One glance, and anyone could tell, it was an incredibly expensive piece.

"Greyson, you've worn that cheap old watch long enough. Time to let it go."

Before he could react, she slipped the watch off his wrist and tossed it aside with effortless grace.

I cried out, a sound only I could hear. "Don't—!"

The watch arced through the air, dropping into a nearby trash bin with a dull clunk.

It landed squarely on my heart.

Greyson half-reached out to stop her, but in the end, said nothing.

That watch...

I had worked three jobs, saved half a year's salary, just to afford it.

To him, perhaps it was the most ordinary timepiece in his collection.

But the day he received it, he smiled brighter than I'd ever seen him.

"Thank you, Millie," he held me tight. "I'll wear it every day."

Yet only a year later, he let Eliza throw it away like trash.

Maybe it never meant much to him after all.

At that time, the past two years of waiting, hoping, believing—felt like a cruel joke.

I felt a sudden dampness on my face.

Tears.

I was crying.

Then Eliza's phone buzzed in her hand. A message flashed on the screen.

Her face went pale, lips trembling.

"What's wrong?" Greyson asked, reaching for her phone.

The screen was filled with messages sent from my number, each one a vicious insult directed at her:

[You pathetic slut. Hope you and your little bastard get run over by a car.]

[You don't deserve to live happy.]

[Give Greyson back to me!]

...

Greyson's gaze turned savage.

His knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on the phone, threatening to crush it.

Eliza's breath came fast and shallow, tears flooding her eyes.

"Why... would Millie hurt me and the pup?" she chocked out.

"It wasn't me! Greyson, it wasn't me—!" I screamed, desperately tugging at his arm.

"I'm already dead..."

My voice cracked.

I fell, collapsing to the ground.

Eliza's eyes were wide and vacant.

She staggered backward, muttering under her breath, "Don't hurt my pup... He's just a child..."

She let out a piercing shriek, then spun and bolted.

Her heels clattered across the decorated platform, catching the crowd's attention.

"What happened to Eliza?"

"She looks utterly devastated."

"Is she scared? What in the world is going on?"

Mrs. Winslet rushed forward and caught her by the arm.

"Eliza! Tell me, what's wrong?"

Eliza gasped for breath, she handed the phone to Mrs. Winslet.

Her hands trembled.

Her knees buckled.

And she collapsed into Greyson's arms.