Chapter 1

Wesley Johnson's POV

So, it had all just been a bet.

The base of my finger was turning numb. The ring was slightly too big, so I had to keep my ring finger slightly splayed just to stop it from slipping off—much like my relationship with Lindsay Shire.

I relaxed my hand, allowing the ring to hit the floor with a sharp clack, shattering the fragile illusion of peace we'd been maintaining.

"Next time there's a painting you can't afford to bid on, just let me know. I can handle a sum like that," I said.

"There's no need to play these cruel little games with me."

Lindsay, who had been idly turning the painting over in her hands, finally stopped. A clear look of displeasure crossed her face.

In the past, whenever she so much as frowned, I'd swallow my feelings, back off, and start apologizing.

This time, however, I didn't give in.

As the silence grew suffocating, Trent Morasca let out a mocking laugh.

"If you can't take a joke, just say so. Don't make me look like the bad guy. It's just a joke, and you're blowing it way out of proportion.

"Come on, Lindsay, let's go eat. Don't we have a dinner reservation?

"What are you guys looking at him for? When has he ever not come running after us?"

The first time I'd heard something like that, I was terrified.

With my face covered in frosting, I apologized, convinced that I was overreacting and had no right to be mad.

They were all Lindsay's friends, after all, and they were just having some birthday fun.

Even when I eventually had to cut my hair short later because there was so much frosting stuck in it, I told myself it was no big deal.

As the group brushed past me, I leaned down, picked up my luggage, and headed in the opposite direction.

I returned to Amber Estate, packed up everything I'd left behind the last time, and asked the elderly butler, Frank Leopold, to ship them for me. Then I sent Lindsay a text message to break up with her.

When I looked up, I saw Frank hesitating.

"Mr. Johnson… Are you not coming back anymore?" he asked. "I can tell Ms. Shire feels differently about you than she does about anyone else. She and Mr. Morasca… They're just childhood friends."

Frank didn't know what had happened at the airport today, and he assumed I was still upset about the thing that made me move out the last time.

In truth, I'd gotten over it a long time ago.

In the ten years I'd been with Lindsay, Trent was at the center of almost every single fight we had. Whenever things got heated, she'd throw out a cold "Think whatever you want" and disappear.

She wouldn't reply to my texts or my calls, and the only way I could find out anything about her was through Trent's social media posts.

And every fight we had always ended with me being the one to make peace.

Today at the airport was the first time she'd ever come looking for me after a fight. So even though my heart had long since grown numb, it still stirred, only to find out it had all just been a bet.

Avoiding the subject, I merely said, "I'll have to trouble you with these."

As I stepped out of Amber Estate, my eyes fell on the bench beneath the covered walkway. Its crooked, uneven slats had an almost laughably clumsy look to them.

In that split second, tears welled up in my eyes.

Lindsay had built that bench for me herself during our third year together.

She had always been stubborn. She could never bring herself to say she liked me outright, so I had been the person to pursue her and the one who confessed my feelings first.

After a while, it started to get to me.

It just so happened that she was particularly busy with one thing or another during that time, and I barely ever saw her.

I spent a long time turning everything over in my head, until one night, when all those emotions finally poured out. And for the first time, Lindsay, who was usually so composed, looked visibly flustered.

In the end, she brought me to Amber Estate and showed me the bench she'd built with her own hands.

She knew I liked waiting for her at the front door, often crouching there until my legs went numb. Just a few days prior, I'd gotten up too fast and had taken a nasty fall.

She hadn't offered a single word of comfort back then, only looking at me coldly and saying that I didn't need to wait for her anymore.

But the cuts and scrapes on her hands from woodworking revealed a rare glimpse of her genuine affection.

I ran my hand over the back of the bench.

Back then, I'd teased her, saying the bench wobbled so much that I'd likely fall right off it. At some point afterward, she'd secretly reinforced it, and now it was sturdy and solid.

Frank was right. In the beginning, Lindsay truly had treated me differently. But that was only before Trent came back to the country.

My phone vibrated. It was Lindsay, finally replying to my breakup message.

"As you please."