Chapter 3

I stopped sending Sierra my usual good-morning and good-night messages, and I no longer bothered replying when she texted me.

On the second day, I went to a dingy gaming lounge she hated, spent the entire night smoking and gaming, and stayed until dawn.

On the third day, I sold every gift she'd ever given me and donated the money to charity. On the fourth, I gathered the photographs we'd taken together over the years and set them all on fire.

"Ms. York is only temporarily blinded by her feelings," the housekeeper advised me. "She still loves you. The two of you built everything together, and it wasn't easy to get where you are now. You should fight for her. Don't let Cyrus take your place."

There was some truth in what he said.

When Sierra had first entered my life, she was an ordinary woman with nothing to her name. The system had ordered me to win her over, so I stayed by her side and helped her build her company from the ground up.

Whenever there was dirty work, I did it. Whenever there was a difficult project, I took it on. More than once, I drank until I ended up in the ER just to close crucial deals for her.

She wanted money. She wanted prestige. She wanted to become a CEO.

I gave her all of it.

When we finally made enough money to buy the mansion we had once dreamed about, Sierra had cried in my arms and promised that she'd love me for the rest of her life.

And yet, in the end, she became the very person who signed my death warrant.

...

I shook my head and flicked my cigarette into the fire consuming our photographs.

The person she truly loved was Cyrus. No matter how hard I fought to get her back, all I'd be doing was humiliating myself.

The housekeeper sighed, then took matters into his own hands and called Sierra.

That evening, I had barely reached the bottom of the stairs when I saw her standing in the living room with a whole display case of designer watches.

"I misunderstood you the other day," she started, unapologetic. "But if you hadn't shown up, Cyrus wouldn't have gotten hurt.

"Anyway, I'm sorry about smashing that gift you brought. Honestly, that watch was so cheap. So, pick something more expensive. You'll come out ahead."

She sounded almost playful, just as she used to, and reached out as though she were about to touch the wound on my face.

I simply stepped away.

She had forgotten that the watch was something she had spent every cent on buying me years ago. Now, she dismissed it as cheap.

Maybe that was what her love had always been worth. Cheap! And I'd been the idiot who cherished it for ten years.

"No thanks," I said nonchalantly, leaning back on the couch. "Give them to Cyrus. He is your husband now."

Sierra opened her mouth, hesitation flickering in her eyes. Before she could say a word, Cyrus sauntered out of a guest bedroom in pajamas, conspicuously flaunting a custom watch on his wrist.

"No need, Sierra," he said, his voice slow and deliberate. "The watches you buy me are worth millions. They're one-of-a-kind pieces. I wouldn't be caught dead wearing something this tacky."

Sierra raised an eyebrow without calling him out. Cyrus suddenly let out an exaggerated gasp and clamped his hand over his mouth.

"Oh, my bad!" he groaned. "I'm just a straight shooter, blurting out whatever comes to mind. Please take no offense, Orlando. By the way, Sierra told me you're her senior from college and that you helped her a lot back then. I should toast you for that."

I snapped my head toward Sierra.

She had promised me this place was our sacred sanctuary, meant strictly for the two of us. But now, she had brought another man into it.

The moment she saw my expression, she clasped her hands together and gave me a pleading look, silently begging me to play along.

But I was no longer the man who bent over backward for her every whim. I was done swallowing this humiliation.

I raised my glass, clinking it against the empty air in his direction. "Don't worry. You weren't saying anything that required a brain."

The smile on Cyrus's face froze, and Sierra's brow shot up.

"Apologize, Orlando!" she demanded.

Cyrus had walked into my home, provoking me. And somehow, I was the one expected to apologize?

Not a chance!

I ignored her and went upstairs. From above, I could hear Sierra soothing Cyrus with all kinds of sweet words, pampering him like a fragile child.

I'd never received that kind of tenderness from her. Not once.

Eventually, the house fell quiet.

I went downstairs to find something to eat, only to discover that Cyrus was still there. He sauntered over with a smug grin plastered across his face.

"Must feel awful having your wife stolen right out from under your nose, doesn't it?" he taunted. "Let me tell you something. I never lost my memory. I was pretending the whole time."

I poured myself a glass of water, barely glancing at him. "Oh."

I knew exactly what he was trying to do. He wanted to provoke me into losing my temper.

But to a man already marked for death, nothing mattered anymore.