Chapter 2

The guilt in Ruth's shifty eyes was almost comical. To the housekeepers, it already seemed as though this "Miss Quinn" had assumed the role of mistress of the household.

Ruth coughed. "Oh, I didn't know we were expecting you, Miss McGuire. What brings you here?"

Iris pretended not to hear what Ruth had let slip. "I'm just here to collect my things."

Ruth glanced behind her without stepping aside. "Mr. Sinclair isn't home."

In other words, you are only Alfred's guest. You have no reason to be here when he is not.

Well, well. The contrast with how she had greeted "Miss Quinn" was stark, and it revealed exactly how the maids and housekeepers assessed each woman's standing. They always chose to please the one they believed stood closest to becoming the true mistress of the house.

Iris smirked. "Would you like Miss Quinn to see my belongings when she comes by later?"

Ruth hesitated, then finally opened a path. She pointed toward the storeroom. "There's no need to go upstairs. All your things have already been moved there."

Iris stepped inside. She cast a brief glance up the staircase and noticed a large portrait hanging between the two levels, depicting a couple.

'So this is "Miss Quinn." At the very least, she is striking.' Expressionless, Iris headed for the storeroom.

Her belongings had been crudely compressed into a single, battered cardboard box. Only when she saw it did Iris grasp just how foolish she had been.

Although Alfred's family had never accepted her as one of their own, she had treated the villa as though it belonged to her. She had poured money and effort into decorating it, only to find that every trace of that care had been discarded and stuffed into a box no one valued. No one had ever regarded her as a member of this household.

Iris lifted the box. As she turned to leave, Ruth called out, "Miss McGuire, there's one more box. The gifts Mr. Sinclair gave you. He said you may take them."

'Gifts… More like appeasement junk,' Iris thought. She had been the only fool who believed they meant anything.

"I don't want them. Do whatever you like with them," Iris said flatly and left.

…

Ruth promptly called her employer. "Mr. Sinclair? Miss McGuire came by to collect her belongings."

"Oh? I knew it," Alfred scoffed. "Such a clingy, sentimental loser. Of course she wanted her precious mementos back."

He laughed derisively. "I bet she even hoped to run into me by chance."

"N-No, sir," Ruth replied, uneasy. "She didn't take everything. She left all of your gifts behind and told me to handle them."

The laughter stopped. Alfred snorted and ended the call.

"So you've decided to play hard to get," he muttered. "You think acting like some pitiful soap-opera heroine will awaken my feelings? Not a chance."

Nothing could change his mind.

A pair of slender arms slid around his neck.

"Alfred, what was that about? Iris? Is she already bothering you?" The young woman laughed softly. "Honestly, you'd think she would have gotten the hint by now."

Alfred smirked and pulled her closer by the waist, his hand wandering without restraint. "That only proves how obvious the difference is between you two. She can't compare to you in any way, babe."

"Come on. Everyone's already there. Let's go."

"Give me a minute," the woman said with a smile. "I need the restroom. Go ahead without me."

She saw Alfred into the elevator, then turned away.

A glint of gleeful cruelty flashed through her eyes. She murmured, "Iris McGuire? Interesting. Maybe I should introduce myself."

…

On her way home, Iris bought herself a new phone. After reinstalling her favorite social media apps, a friend request appeared almost immediately.

Whoever this person was, they had prepared a thorough welcome. Status updates, videos, and photos had been carefully curated for Iris' viewing. She could easily trace the arc of this new friend's recent relationship, from the moment Alfred first noticed her, to their increasingly suggestive exchanges, and finally, to the point where the romance became public.

Alfred had spared no expense. Four years with Iris had earned her nothing more than a box of unwanted junk disguised as gifts, while this woman displayed an entire Christmas tree adorned with Hermès bags.

The difference in importance was unmistakable.

Iris finally understood that, for men like Alfred, money spent was the clearest measure of affection.

She had worked hard to steady herself after the breakup, but these revelations sent fresh ripples through her thoughts. She could not stop herself from wondering what she had been doing while he cheated on her.

Oh, right. She had been exhausting herself, trying to placate Alfred as he threw one unreasonable tantrum after another.

A hollow laugh escaped her.

Iris was about to leave the chat when a caption caught her eye.

[Don't you want to know why he stopped loving you?]

Why wouldn't she? Who could accept such an abrupt ending without questions? Why would he go to such lengths just to break up with her?

Iris accepted the friend request. Moments later, a message arrived.

[Come to the Hanging Gardens.]

…

The Hanging Gardens was a favorite haunt of the city's wealthiest elites. Perched atop Skyloft, the most iconic skyscraper in the city, it served as a garden bar where high society gathered to drink, socialize, and gaze down at the streets below, convinced of their own supremacy.

Iris recognized Alfred the moment she arrived. He leaned against the glass railing, wineglass in hand, as the evening breeze stirred his hair. He looked as handsome as ever.

She could hear his friends clearly.

One of them laughed. "Man, imagine entering a hardcore heartbreaker contest and drawing Alfred as your opponent! You actually crashed into another car for this? You were ready for that, but what about Iris? What if she'd been seriously hurt?"

"Did she really believe you lost your memory?"

Alfred sneered and swirled the wine in his glass.

His friends immediately caught on.

"Yeah, we all know what she's like. That bitch clings to him like a Boy Mom with her son."

"I bet she's cooking up some grand plan to awaken her poor lover's lost memories in bed!"

"I've gotta give it to you, Alfred. You're the only guy in this city who can make women that obsessed."

Alfred lifted his glass and drained it, smiling as he set it down.

"Iris does have her strengths," he said casually. "She's obedient and good at taking care of people. Too bad her background means she could only ever be my secret lover. Once I marry Regina, I'll suddenly 'remember' our past and tell her everything. She'll be so touched that she'll come crawling back to me."

He chuckled. "Just don't let Regina hear that. She's playful, but she's got a temper. I had to work hard to keep her in line."

Alfred beamed, basking in his own arrogance. He felt invincible, an apex predator at the top of the food chain, utterly convinced of his mastery over women.

His friends raised their glasses and echoed his laughter.

Iris felt shock and anger wash over her, then ebb into something colder.

She had suspected as much before coming here. Now she had proof. Since the McGuires' bankruptcy, her social standing had collapsed. In Alfred's eyes, she no longer qualified as a suitable match.

Even so, she had not expected him to sink this low. Of course the proud second Sinclair heir would never deign to choose between two women. After all, choice was for the weak and the expendable.

Hearing him confirm it himself ended everything. It no longer mattered whether his amnesia was real or fake. This relationship was over.

"Alfred?" a soft, sweet voice called from nearby.

A beautiful woman stepped up beside him.

'So this is Regina Quinn, the "playful, feisty" woman from the portrait,' Iris thought.

Alfred's friends erupted at once.

"Miss Quinn! You're finally here! Alfred prepared a surprise for you!"

"Ooh! What kind?" Regina asked brightly, allowing Alfred to lead her toward the center of the bar.

He gazed into her eyes as fireworks burst in the distance. He leaned down and kissed her.

Regina stiffened for a moment, then closed her eyes and returned the kiss.

Firelight bathed them in a shimmering color.

Alfred pulled back, cupped her face, and smiled. "I'm going to tell the whole world you're my girlfriend."

Regina nodded, dizzy with happiness.

The crowd erupted into cheers. "One more kiss! One more kiss!"

They used to chant the same words when Alfred kissed Iris.

The sight burned. It hurt to watch, knowing she had been used for whatever benefit she could offer, then discarded like a worn-out toy.

Iris turned away and prepared to leave.

"Iris McGuire?!" Regina cried.

Every head turned. All eyes locked onto her.

Before Iris could speak, tears streamed down Regina's face. "I know you're upset, Iris, but Alfred lost his memories. The doctor said he needs rest and peace, so please, don't disturb him. This is my fault. I shouldn't have fallen in love with him."

Yet disdain flickered behind her tears. Regina did not care if Iris realized the amnesia was a lie. She would not lose sleep even if Iris became her enemy.

Iris understood at once. She had been lured here on purpose. She raised her phone defensively. "No. You told me to—"

Alfred slapped the phone from her hand, and it skidded across the floor.

"You stalked me, Iris!" he shouted. "How could you?"