Chapter 2

The moment she heard footsteps, Harper ended the call.

The mattress dipped beside her. Ryan slipped his arms around her from behind and pulled her into his embrace. He pressed a soft kiss to the side of her ear.

Harper clenched her fists and pretended to be asleep.

She had to hand it to him. His acting really was seamless.

By the time she woke up again, daylight was streaming into the room.

A delicate slice of strawberry cake sat on the nightstand, pinning down a handwritten note.

[Baby, I've got a work dinner tonight. Left you your favorite dessert. Eat something first, then let the housekeeper make you a proper meal.]

Harper sat in silence, staring at Ryan's bold, flowing script.

Then her phone buzzed.

[Want to know what Ryan is doing right now? Come to Suite 8 at Drunken Night.]

She sat still for a while, then rose, dressed, and asked the driver to take her to the address.

The moment she stepped out of the car, she saw across Drunken Night's giant LED screen flashed bright, celebratory letters: Welcome Home, Princess Olivia Sinclair!

She paused mid-step, then walked straight in.

The door to the suite was slightly ajar. Laughter and cheers rang out in bursts.

Seated next to Ryan was a beautiful woman in a white dress, long hair cascading down her back, looking pure and elegant.

Anyone who approached her with a drink was intercepted by Ryan—he drank every glass himself.

Olivia was her college classmate. They studied the same major.

For all four years, every test, every project—if Harper was there, Olivia could only ever come second.

The claim that Harper had "stolen" her spot as valedictorian? Ridiculous.

"Ryan, I heard you've been dating Harper for three years?"

Before he could answer, one of his friends cut in.

"Olivia, don't misunderstand Ryan. He's only doing this to get revenge on Harper—for you, of course."

"I can back that up. Remember last year, her birthday? Ryan said he'd handmade a gift, but 'accidentally' dropped it into the lotus pond? I've still got the pictures on my phone—look at her diving into that mud, digging like crazy for it. Doesn't she look like some kind of gorilla?"

Harper's whole body tensed. Her knuckles turned white against the doorknob.

She remembered it clearly. At the time, Ryan had spent nights carving the gift—his hands layered with fresh cuts over old scars.

She'd been so touched, so worried for him, she hadn't waited for professional divers. She jumped into that stinking, mosquito-infested mud herself.

The leeches had left her legs riddled with bloody holes. She never found it.

Now, Olivia let out a surprised gasp and pulled a necklace from beneath her collar.

"Ryan, this pendant you gave me last year—you carved it yourself?"

Ryan's gaze locked onto the pale curve of her collarbone, eyes flickering with surprise and delight.

"You've been wearing it all this time?"

Olivia smiled, lips gently pressed together. "When have I ever not taken care of something you gave me?"

After a whole year, Harper finally saw what that gift looked like.

It was beautiful.

Unfortunately, it was on someone else's neck.

Everyone gathered around the photos, laughing until their stomachs hurt, pointing and jeering.

Then someone noticed the figure at the door.

"H-Harper?"

Ryan's eyes narrowed. He shot to his feet. "Harper! When did you get here?"

She forced down the nausea rising in her chest and said calmly, "Just happened to be passing by."

He studied her expression closely. Not finding anything unusual, he visibly relaxed.

He reached out to pull her inside, but she stepped back, avoiding him.

"Don't want to interrupt your party."

His eyes darkened. "You heard something just now, didn't you?"

Harper bit down her sarcasm and gave a little smile. "Let's not forget—we never made our relationship public. If I walk in now, what am I supposed to be? Doesn't seem appropriate, does it?"

Without waiting to see his reaction, she turned and ran from Drunken Night.

The tears wouldn't stop coming.

The humiliation, the betrayal, the ridicule—it all hurt. But none of it compared to the pain delivered by the man who had once held her closest.

Everything was a blur. Then came the screech of tires.

A black car had lost control, and it was speeding straight toward her.

She froze. The danger was so sudden, so real, her body wouldn't move.

"Watch out!"

Ryan barreled into her, shielding her with his body as they rolled across the pavement.

The sharp scent of blood filled the air.

Harper trembled as she cradled Ryan's head in her arms, her voice shaking with panic.

Why?

Why, if he wanted to hurt her, did he throw himself in harm's way?

Had three years really melted some corner of his heart?

Ryan's lips were pale, his right arm twisted unnaturally. But all he cared about was her.

"Baby… are you okay?"

Harper, still in shock, shook her head. Just some scrapes.

Relieved, Ryan passed out on the spot.

The hospital report showed he had a few fractured bones and a mild concussion.

But when he couldn't eat without vomiting, Harper rushed home to make soup.

Halfway there, she realized she'd forgotten her phone and turned back.

She opened the hospital room door—and froze.

A group of playboy friends were huddled around his bed.

"How about that fake blood pack, huh? Worked like a charm! The doctor's one of us too."

"Hahaha, did you see Harper shaking? She was so panicked she got cold sores from the stress! Hilarious!"

The bandage on Ryan's head was gone. His forehead was smooth and unscathed.

His "fractured" arm? Perfectly fine, busy picking up food.

"Who told you idiots to call her over today? I nearly thought she figured it out. Guess not."

"Relax, that dumb girl's been played by you so many times. Even if she did suspect something, she's so hung up on you, the real problem would be getting her to leave!"