Chapter 4

Cecelia's POV

I stared at the design sketches, torn apart by the shards of glass. My heart sank.

My mom had spent 40 years as a housewife in a rural village, and those sketches were the one thing that gave her a sense of purpose and comfort. She had given everything she had to get me out of that village so I could become a designer.

When Jerome first learned about the sketches, he immediately hired someone to custom-build an expensive display case to keep them safe.

He promised he would take good care of my mom's sketches for me. Now, they were all gone.

Jerome hurried over and reached down to pull me up. "Cece, get up first. You're bleeding."

Just as he reached for me, Nora let out a soft cry. She was curled up in the corner, her eyes red as she held up her bleeding finger. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to..."

Jerome hesitated for a split second, then walked over to her anyway.

I pulled out my phone and called the police. "Hello, I'd like to report property damage. My belongings have been destroyed, and I need officers here right—"

Before I could finish, Jerome suddenly grabbed my wrist. His grip was painfully tight. I jerked my head up and met his cold gaze.

He snatched the phone from my hand. "I'm sorry. We had a fight. My girlfriend is just upset. False alarm."

"Just upset?" My voice trembled. "Jerome, those were the last things my mom left me."

Jerome hung up the phone and looked down at me. "Nora got hurt, too. Cece, those are just things that belonged to someone who's dead. I can't let Nora end up at the police station over this."

I stared at him as if he were a stranger. This was the same man who used to tear up with me whenever I told him stories about my mom. Now, he was telling me those were just things that belonged to someone who was dead.

I stared at him without a word, my eyes stinging.

Suddenly, Nora let out a weak groan and stumbled. "I… I get dizzy when I see blood…"

Jerome immediately pulled her into his arms and covered her eyes. Before carrying Nora out, he looked back at me. "Clean up your cut. We'll talk about this when I get back."

I knelt there with my bloodied hands pressed against the floor, barely able to feel the pain anymore. "Jerome, let's break up," I said calmly.

He stiffened, but Nora was still whimpering softly in his arms. After a brief hesitation, he said, "Cece, knock it off."

Then he walked away.

Half an hour later, a notification popped up on my phone. "Your flight departs in less than three hours. Please allow enough time to get to the airport."

I stared at the message for a long time before slowly getting to my feet. Looking at the wreckage around me, I thought I would cry. But my heart just felt hollow, as if something had been ripped out of it, leaving nothing but numbness behind.

In the end, I called the police anyway. I wasn't going to let the last things my mother left me be destroyed for nothing.

20 minutes later, I had finished packing up. As I was about to head out, a notification popped up.

It was a post Nora had shared three minutes ago. In the photo, Jerome was down on one knee in front of her, carefully checking her injury. The caption read, "Ten years of friendship speaks for itself."

I stared at the photo for a long moment. Suddenly, I remembered the day Jerome and I first got together. He held me in his arms and promised, "Starting today, you're the most important person in my life. You'll always come first."

And now?

I locked my phone screen, but seconds later, he called. His voice was cold as he demanded, "The police just showed up. You actually called them? Cece, what is wrong with you? Do you have to ruin Nora's life?"

Surprisingly, I felt completely calm as I listened to him berate me.