Chapter 3

The next morning, Fiona was up early, making me breakfast.

The private dining room was filled with fine Italian food.

She personally sliced my prosciutto and brought the fork to my lips.

"Open up, my love." Her voice was sweet as honey.

I played along with her little show.

But out of the corner of my eye, I saw Leo sitting at the other end of the dining room, his face dark. He clearly wasn't happy with Fiona's "performance."

"Try the cheese omelet. It's your favorite," Fiona cooed, feeding me.

Leo shot to his feet. His chair scraped loudly against the floor.

Fiona's hand trembled, but she recovered quickly.

Right in front of me, she texted him on her phone: I'll make it up to you later. Don't act out in front of Javier. That custom Ferrari SF90 is yours.

Only then did Leo's mood change. He shot me a scornful look, then got up and left the table.

As he passed Fiona, his fingers deliberately brushed her waist.

Her body flinched slightly, but she didn't pull away.

I ignored the food she offered and picked up my own utensils, pretending I couldn't see, and ate something else.

Fiona thought I was still sulking. After I finished, she insisted on taking me out.

"Tonight, I've booked the entire Art Institute of Chicago for you," she said. "There will be a grand charity gala to celebrate your birthday. I even flew in the principal cellist from the Vienna Philharmonic to play for you."

Her voice was laced with guilt, desperate to please.

"Don't you love Bach's Cello Suites?"

Yes, I used to.

Now, I had lost interest in everything.

On the way there, Fiona held my hand tight, as if afraid I'd fall. She kept bringing up our sweet memories from the past.

I said nothing. My heart was a wasteland of irony and pain.

I once thought we were the one fairy tale in this dark world. It turned out to be a joke.

Fiona liked excitement. She liked young flesh even more. She had long forgotten the blood oath we swore at our wedding.

We arrived at the museum. The main hall was dripping with gold and light.

But the first thing I saw were the black roses. Everywhere. A black so deep it was almost evil.

I'm severely allergic to black roses. Fiona knew this.

But Leo loved black roses. So tonight, for my birthday party, the hall was filled with his favorite flower.

Another lie, tailor-made for me.

The cellist came on stage, played one single Bach suite, and then left.

The "exclusive concert" was a single song. A token gesture.

"So beautiful," Fiona said, squeezing my hand. "Remember our wedding? It was right here."

Her voice started to break.

"You said we'd face whatever came our way, together. You said you'd always protect me, always love me."

As she spoke, she became emotional, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.

She lifted my hand, making me touch the hot tear.

You have to love someone, really love them, to cry a tear that real.

If she hadn't betrayed me, I would have been moved enough to hold her and cry with her.

She did love me, once. But now, that was all in the past. She had split her love, and given a piece to Leo.

I pulled my hand back. My face was a calm mask.

Lost in her own emotions, Fiona looked hurt by my lack of reaction.

But just a few seconds later, her eyes lit up and a smile spread across her face as she looked toward the stage.

Leo was wearing a custom Armani suit she had bought for him.

The suit made him look refined. Almost a gentleman.

Compared to me in my simple clothes, I had already lost.

Leo smiled and waved at us. "Happy birthday, Mr. Scott."

He walked over to Fiona and, ignoring everyone, grabbed her hand.

"Fiona, all the surprises you wanted are ready.I'll do the countdown."

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!"

A spotlight hit the center of the stage. The curtain pulled back.

A Titian original, worth thirty million dollars, was on display.

The three of us stood there. Fiona and Leo, their fingers intertwined. They were the couple. I was the ghost.

But what truly shocked me was the plaque next to the painting.

The gold letters shone under the lights:

"To my one and only knight, Leo."

The room fell silent for a heartbeat.

Then it erupted in applause.

The guests thought it was some kind of business stunt.

But I knew what it meant.

With a thirty-million-dollar painting, Fiona had just publicly declared her feelings for Leo.

At my birthday party.

In the same place we got married.

The applause started again. Guests raised their glasses in celebration.

Suddenly, Fiona told a guard to look after me. She had urgent business to attend to.

"Javier, you be a good boy and wait for me."

She kissed my cheek, then took Leo's hand and hurried toward the museum's private lounge.