Chapter 2

Logan let out a bitter laugh.

He swallowed back the burning pressure behind his eyes. "Don't bother," he murmured. "I'm leaving the city."

Vivian's lips parted—then closed.

She'd always been most beautiful like this: silent. Regal as winter frost, that untouchable elegance that drew people in even as it kept them at arm's length.

"This is my fault," she conceded at last. "Name your price. If it's within my means, it's yours."

Money?

Was three years of devotion really so cheap?

Logan turned the wheel, guiding the car onto a tree-lined side road.

Maybe Vivian never knew—they'd graduated from the same school.

She had always stood out. Top of her class, skipping grades, dazzlingly brilliant. And breathtakingly beautiful.

Campus forums had buzzed with her name. The Brooks Corporation's crown princess, groomed for the corner office since childhood—a future written in constellations far above his reach.

Logan had always known the chasm between them.

That's why he'd burned the midnight oil, chasing every accolade she'd touched, matching her achievement for achievement.

Every competition she entered, he followed.

Every first place she earned, he fought tooth and nail to achieve for himself.

He had always thought it was nothing more than unrequited love, until Grace had approached him.

"Stay by Vivian's side, and I'll save your mother."

He had been overjoyed. No one knew that from the very beginning, his love for Vivian had been real.

He'd written the script, played the role, then forgotten he was acting. Had she asked for his beating heart, he'd have carved it out himself with a smile.

But she didn't want his life. She only wanted him gone.

"Keep your money." Logan drew a steadying breath. "Come with me to Sacred High, our old school, if you’re free."

Vivian blinked, surprised.

Perhaps she hadn't expected that Logan's grades had been good enough to get into such a prestigious school.

After a beat, she nodded. "Alright."

The car continued down the narrow path, and just as they were about to arrive, Vivian's phone rang.

Whatever the caller said made her cheeks flush with color. A soft, shy smile touched her lips. "Okay. Wait for me."

The moment she hung up, her whole demeanor changed.

"Something came up. I can't go with you today. Let's do it another time."

Before Logan could speak, she'd already called a business car and left without looking back.

He didn't need to ask who had called.

Who else could make Vivian light up like that, if not Julian?

Not once, in three years of marriage, had Logan been able to bring out that kind of smile.

There would be no "another time."

After Grace's birthday, he'd vanish from the Brooks' world forever.

Their marriage would fall like September leaves—a quiet surrender to gravity, brief gold against the pavement, then gone without a trace.

Logan went to Sacred High alone, to where everything had started.

In the hall of outstanding alumni, her photograph still hung—Vivian, radiant like the sun.

He had never been like the others. From the moment he first saw her, Logan had loved Vivian with everything he had. The love he had for her was so pure, so absolute, that no one else could ever take her place.

He reached up, fingertips grazing the image of the face he had fallen asleep next to so many times.

How ironic. Only now, standing in front of this photograph, could he finally see her clearly.

It had been a long time since they'd shared a bed. Even when they did, she came home late and left early.

They had no time for the duties of husband and wife. Not even time for a proper conversation—yet they were already saying goodbye...

Logan smiled. And as he smiled, his eyes turned red, until thick, soundless tears rolled down his cheeks.

He swiped at them roughly, only then realizing what fell wasn't just tears, but the accumulated grief of three years.

He waited at the school for hours, but Vivian never called.

He left, empty and alone.

But instead of going home, he found himself heading toward a law office.

Logan handed the divorce agreement to his lawyer with solemn care—just as he had once, without hesitation, slipped a ring onto Vivian's finger and committed himself to marriage.

"Mr. Phillips, are you certain you want to leave with nothing?"

The lawyer flipped through the agreement Vivian had provided, his brows furrowing in disbelief.

"The compensation your wife is offering... It's extremely generous. This kind of wealth is something most people can only dream of in a lifetime. Are you sure you want to walk away with nothing?"

"I'm sure. Revise the terms to zero." Logan's voice held steady. "Address the finalized copies to Ms. Vivian Brooks at the Brooks Corporation headquarters."

The mention of the Brooks family deepened the lawyer's surprise.

The Brooks were one of Bronfield City's most powerful and prestigious families. Vivian Brooks was said to be the only heiress to an empire—any man who married her would be marrying into a fortune.

Yet here was Logan, choosing to leave empty-handed.

Still, out of respect for his client's wishes, the lawyer nodded.

"Understood," he said professionally. "Rest assured, I'll take care of everything."

With those final arrangements made, Logan felt a weight lift from his chest.

The phantom pressure on his heart—Vivian's invisible claim—finally lifted. The contract marriage that had bound them together… was finally coming to an end.

He was finally going to return to a normal life.

When Logan returned home, it came as no surprise—Vivian still hadn't.

Her first love had returned from abroad. No doubt they had plenty to catch up on, plenty to say, plenty to do.

And the thought of the woman he had always cherished but never dared to touch, now blooming freely in front of another man... made Logan wish he could disappear.

But who was he to complain? He had never truly held her heart. And Vivian had only ever loved Julian.

If anyone was the outsider in this marriage, it was him—the temporary stand-in who'd overstayed his welcome.

With the real protagonist back in the picture, the only honorable choice left... was to bow out gracefully.

At least his mother was still here with him. That was more than enough.

Gritting his teeth against the hollow ache in his chest, he began pulling clothes from the closet.

Every possession from the past three years fit perfectly into one 26-inch suitcase.

Only then did he realize how little space he'd actually occupied in this home.

So little that a single suitcase could contain it all.

So little that his absence would leave no noticeable void in Vivian's life.

This charade had gone on long enough.

Vivian didn't come home for two whole days.

…

The day of Grace's birthday banquet arrived.

Logan appeared in a sharply tailored white suit, a solitary yellow rose fastened to his lapel.

If Vivian still cared, she would understand. The yellow rose symbolized farewell.

His gaze found her instantly when he entered the ballroom.

Vivian stood glowing at the center of attention, resplendent in a pale pink lily-print gown - the very image of a flower in full bloom: poised, confident, breathtaking.

Beside her stood a stranger Logan recognized immediately.

Julian.

That name had haunted him—whispered drunkenly by Vivian, spoken with awe by Grace.

Logan had often imagined this moment—how it would feel to finally face the man he'd measured himself against for years.

Now, seeing them side by side...only shame remained.

Julian was taller than he'd imagined, more refined. His every gesture carried natural elegance, an inborn sophistication.

Together, Julian and Vivian looked perfect.

A picture-perfect pairing.

A fairytale prince and his rightful princess.