Chapter 3

I knew it wasn't me whom Tristan was reluctant to let go of. It was just the comfort of having a warm meal waiting for him at home.

Men were all the same. They wanted the thrill of having a mistress, but they hated giving up the sense of stability they had with their wives.

Once the meal was over, I didn't let him drive me. I hailed a taxi myself and went straight to the apartment I had rented long ago.

The moment I walked in, I tossed my suitcase aside, collapsed onto the couch, and let out a long breath.

It was finally over.

I pulled out my phone and switched back to Maisie's account. The screen was flooded with text messages from Tristan, more than a dozen stacked one after another.

"The pasta was good, but I couldn't taste anything."

"She left. The house feels empty."

"Can we meet in person? Please? I just want to hold you. I really do."

I stared at the screen for a long time, my thumb hovering over the word "Okay".

According to the original playbook, this was the exact moment Maisie was supposed to step in and give this broken-hearted man all the love and comfort he wanted.

But I had absolutely no intention of keeping the act alive.

Tristan falling in love with Maisie meant my mission was officially accomplished, but that didn't mean I was going to spend the rest of my life with him under a fake identity.

I needed to cut him off completely.

Since Maisie was the reason for his wandering eye, she had to vanish right along with his marriage.

That would teach him a hard lesson that love was nothing but a mirage, a fleeting illusion. He'd be better off focusing on his career.

My gaze turned cold. I was just about to type out a rejection when my mind suddenly flashed back to the way his hands trembled when he held me in the kitchen.

"Okay."

My fingers moved faster than my brain, and the message went through before I could stop it.

I froze.

What was I doing? Was I planning to give him one final goodbye in person? Or did I just want to mock him to his face?

Tristan's reply came almost instantly. "Really? Tomorrow night, our usual spot at Jorvia Park. I'll wait for you there!"

I tossed my phone aside and raked my fingers through my hair in frustration.

…

The next morning, I took a trip out to the cemetery.

Tristan's older brother, Graham Pierce, was buried halfway up the hill.

A drizzle was falling as I held a black umbrella over my head, placing a bouquet of white lilies right in front of his tombstone.

"I kept my promise," I said, staring at the picture on the tombstone.

The man in the picture wore a warm and tender smile.

"He can stand on his own two feet now, and he's finally learned how to love someone. Granted, the person he loves isn't real, but that's fine. Heartbreak counts as a lesson, too. Once I delete Maisie's account tomorrow, he'll be heartbroken for a while, but he'll get over it and finally grow up."

"Serena?"

A familiar voice came from behind me. I stiffened as I slowly turned around.

Tristan was standing in the rain in a crisp black suit, a bouquet cradled in his arms, staring at me in utter disbelief. "Are you here to see… my brother?"

He took a few steps closer, his eyes scanning me with a complicated mixture of emotions.

"Today is the anniversary of his passing," I replied smoothly as I tilted the umbrella slightly to conceal half my face.

Tristan froze, a wave of shame soon washing over his features. "I—"

He opened his mouth as if to explain, but I cut him off, "It's fine. Do what you came here to do. I was just leaving."

I brushed past him.

"Serena!" he called after me.

I stopped dead in my tracks, but I didn't turn around.

"Did you… mean what you said last night? About just wanting me to be happy?"

I sneered inwardly. Was he trying to clear his conscience right before meeting Maisie?

"I meant it," I said, stepping right back into the rain without a single backward glance. "I hope you and Maisie live happily ever after."

…

The wind was brutal down at Jorvia Park.

Tristan arrived early, holding a large bouquet of pink flowers I didn't recognize. Every so often, he checked his watch, then pulled out his phone to send another message.

Inside my pocket, my phone kept vibrating.

"Maisie, I'm here. Where are you?"

"The wind is picking up. Make sure you bundle up."

"I just saw someone in a white dress. Is that you? Oh, never mind. It isn't."