Longing Beneath Blossoms

"I’ve thought it through. I'll marry the Ashford family’s comatose heir."

Rhea Vaughn leaned against the doorway of the Vaughn family’s old residence, her red lips curving into a sharp, mocking smile.

The cigar in Victor Vaughn’s hand nearly slipped and fell onto the priceless Persian carpet. He jerked upright from his leather chair, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes smoothing out as his face lit up.

"Rhea, you’ve come around? That’s wonderful! The Ashfords have been pressing hard. You’ll need to marry into Harborwyn in the next two weeks. What style of wedding dress do you like? I will have someone order it for you—"

"That’s it?" Rhea let out a cold laugh. "I’m taking your beloved illegitimate daughter, Vera Vaughn’s place and marrying into that family for you, and you’re not going to show anything in return?"

The temperature in the living room dropped instantly.

Victor’s face darkened. "Watch how you speak. What illegitimate daughter? That’s your sister."

"A sister is someone born of the same mother." Rhea chuckled softly, ice sealing over her eyes. "She’s the product of your affair. I will never acknowledge her in this lifetime."

The vein at Victor Vaughn’s temple bulged, fury surging up his face. He forced it down just before it erupted.

He took a deep breath. Ash fell from the tip of his cigar. "What do you want?"

"Ten billion." Her lips parted calmly. "And after I’m married, transfer Wyatt Pierce to protect your precious Vera."

Victor froze. He stared at her as if she had lost her mind. "Are you insane? Ten billion would drain all my liquid assets. And Wyatt is your favorite bodyguard. You used to make a fuss about marrying him. Now you’re getting married, and you’re not even taking him with you?"

"Just answer yes or no." Rhea’s patience snapped. She turned to leave.

"Fine!" Victor slammed his hand on the table. "The day you go to Harborwyn to marry, I’ll have both things done immediately."

He had no interest in thinking deeper. He only wanted to lock this down as fast as possible.

Back then, the Ashfords' only son had been dazzling and untouchable. Victor had rushed to secure an engagement between the two families, planning to marry Vera off and give his younger daughter a good future.

No one expected an accident to put the Ashford heir into a coma.

Victor could not bear to see Vera suffer. That was when he remembered that Rhea was also his daughter.

With her back to him, she waved a hand casually. Her heels clicked crisply against the marble floor, each step sounding like a slap across someone’s face.

Just as she wrapped her fingers around the doorknob, Victor’s voice came again from behind her.

"I can understand wanting money. Still, you love Wyatt more than anyone. How can you bear to give him to Vera?"

Rhea’s fingers stiffened. She did not turn around. Her eyes burned suddenly.

That name pierced her like a thorn, stabbing straight into the softest part of her heart. She shoved the door open hard, shutting Victor and that question behind her.

By the time she returned to the villa, it was already late at night.

Rhea walked upstairs in her heels. As she passed Wyatt’s room, she heard restrained sounds coming from inside.

The door was not fully closed. She lifted her gaze and saw the scene inside with brutal clarity.

Wyatt was half-reclined against the headboard, his long fingers holding a photograph. His eyes were closed, his Adam’s apple rolling as a low, husky voice spilled out.

"Vera… baby… so good…"

It was Vera’s photo.

Taken at last year’s birthday banquet. She wore a white dress, smiling with innocent purity.

Rhea’s nails dug crescent-shaped marks into the handle of her Hermes bag. At last, she answered Victor’s question in her heart, 'Because he is just like you. He only likes Vera.'

The answer churned inside her, scorching her organs until everything hurt.

She first met Wyatt three years ago when she was selecting a bodyguard. Among the towering men lined up, she locked onto him at first glance.

The reason was simple: he was outrageously handsome.

Six-foot-two with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and sharp features. Especially those pitch-black eyes, cold as tempered ice.

Rhea was famously known as a little seductress in their circle. She had planned to tease him for fun. Three years passed instead.

When she deliberately got drunk and collapsed into his arms, he hooked a hand around the back of her neck like lifting a cat and set her back onto the sofa.

When she knocked on his door late at night in a slip dress, he wrapped her entirely in his suit jacket and escorted her back to her room with perfect courtesy.

When she pretended to drown in the swimming pool, he jumped in to save her, yet never once touched her waist.

No matter how she flirted, he stayed distant. Chaste. Proper. Always addressing her as Miss Vaughn.

Somewhere along the way, she fell for him anyway. She did not know when it happened. Perhaps she had been unbearably lonely after her mother died.

When she was seven, Victor had an affair and brought home an illegitimate daughter named Vera Vaughn. She was only three months younger than Rhea.

Out of ten years of marriage, he had cheated for nine of them.

That day, the family Rhea believed to be happy and peaceful was shattered completely. Mrs. Evelyn Vaughn, her mother, was nine months pregnant with Victor’s second child, just days from delivery.

Mrs. Vaughn loved him desperately. She confronted him hysterically, crying until she nearly lost consciousness. That night, she went into premature labor. She was rushed to the hospital and died before she even made it into the operating room.

One corpse. Two lives lost.

From that day on, Rhea hated Victor. She hated Vera even more.

She moved out of the Vaughn estate. She went to school alone, ate alone, and grew up alone. Only when the harassment from spoiled rich boys became unbearable did she decide to hire a bodyguard.

Wyatt Pierce was her first.

From that point on, she was no longer alone. Whatever she did, Wyatt was always there. Her feelings shifted from admiration to teasing to love.

Three years. Over a thousand days and nights, not once did his gaze falter with any trace of emotion for her. She thought he was born cold-hearted.

Until that day.

She caught him holding Vera’s photograph while touching himself. Then she watched him finish and answer a phone call immediately afterward.

"Master Wren, how long are you going to keep playing bodyguard? You’re the Blackridge crown prince. What woman can’t you have? If you fell for Vera at first sight, just take her by force. Why play innocent and work as her sister’s bodyguard just to see her every day?"

Wyatt’s expression was calm. "I checked. Vera is an illegitimate daughter. She had a hard childhood, so she lacks a sense of security. Pursuing her recklessly would scare her. I want to take it slow."

"Unbelievable. The Wren family really produced a hopeless romantic. I thought with Miss Vaughn flirting with you every day, you’d fall for her. Let me tell you, she’s famous in the circle. The men who fancy her could line up all the way to France—"

Wyatt seemed to smile faintly. What he said next sent Rhea plunging straight into an ice abyss.

"Is that so? Well, I'm not interested. She can't compare to even a single strand of Vera’s hair."

Every word stabbed into Rhea’s heart like a blade. From that moment on, she no longer liked Wyatt.

The sounds inside dragged on for an unknown amount of time. For reasons unclear, Wyatt had still not finished that night.

Seeing this, Rhea curled her lips coldly and shoved the door open.