Chapter 2

Late at night, just as I lay down to rest, my phone screen lit up. It was Ruth calling.

When I answered, all I heard were two words, flat and emotionless. "Come down."

I frowned, pulled open the curtains, and saw her standing outside the villa. Assuming something urgent had happened, I threw on a jacket and went out. I planned to draw a clear line between us while I was at it.

When I reached downstairs, she didn't say a word. She simply turned and walked away. I followed her at a brisk pace for about ten minutes. When I saw where we'd stopped, I frowned.

"Why did you bring me to Jack's place?" I asked.

She shot me a cold glance. "Why else? To make you apologize to Jack!"

My eyes widened. "You dragged me out here in the middle of the night just to make me apologize to him?"

Ruth looked indifferent. "Yeah."

I raised my hand and pointed at Jack, who was standing on the second-floor balcony, enjoying the show. "He's the one who should be apologizing. Check the surveillance cameras yourself. He's the one who dragged me into the lake."

Hearing that, Jack no longer remained calm. He rushed downstairs with his head lowered and grabbed Ruth's arm with a pitiful expression. "Ruth, don't force Micah. I'm fine."

Ruth's eyes were full of tenderness and pity. But when she looked at me, her expression turned cold. "Are you trying to make me humiliate Jack myself? He's always been kind. How could he possibly frame you? Besides, you made him catch a cold. What's so hard about saying sorry?"

I spoke up, my voice nasal from congestion. "What about me?"

"That's your own fault!" she yelled back.

A vicious glint flashed through Jack's eyes, but his voice stayed sweet. "Ruth, forget it. There's no need to fight with Micah over me. You two are still getting married."

I couldn't be bothered to watch his performance any longer, so I turned to leave. But Ruth grabbed my arm and said, "If you don't apologize, I will never marry you."

She shoved me toward the curb, then turned and let Jack back upstairs.

The cold night wind made me shiver uncontrollably. Just as I was contemplating how to get home, a familiar figure appeared. It was Isabelle.

She ran over anxiously and draped a blanket over my shoulders. "Are you cold? How did you end up here?"

Looking at her flustered expression, I couldn't help but smile. I reached out and gently stroked her nose. "And you? How did you know I was here?"

She stammered as she explained. She had seen me leave with Ruth from her window. Worried about my already weak condition from catching a cold, she followed us.

I stepped forward and pulled her into my arms. Feeling her quickened breathing, I murmured, "It's really nice that I have you."

Isabelle's face flushed instantly. After a long pause, she wrapped her arms around my waist. "I feel the same way."

…

Three days later, I received news that the director of the orphanage that once took me in was critically ill.

When I was three years old, I was kidnapped by traffickers. After collecting the ransom, they dumped me by the roadside and left me to die.

It was the director, Ernest Winters, who had found me in the snow and brought me back. I wasn't reunited with my mother until I was eight years old.

I met Jack at that orphanage. He was adopted by the Lonsdale family a year before Mom found me and took me home.

I planned to tell Jack about Ernest's condition. But when he heard the news, not only did he show no sadness, but his face twisted with disgust.

"He's just an old man whose time is up. So what if he dies? What does it have to do with me? That's just life!"

I frowned, my voice turning cold. "He saved your life. Is this how you show gratitude?"

"I don't need you to lecture me," Jack snapped back, shoving me.

Anger flaring in my chest, I punched him to the ground without thinking. Then, I went alone to visit Ernest.

On my way home, my car was forced to stop. As I got out to check, something slammed against the back of my head.

When I woke up again, I was already in the hospital, with more than 20 stitches on the back of my head.

The bodyguards told me the attack happened in a blind spot with no cameras, so they couldn't identify the attacker.

But before I lost consciousness, I clearly smelled a strong musky scent. It was Ruth.

An inexplicable mix of anger and sorrow surged within me. There was no need to guess—she had done it for Jack.

When Mom rushed to the hospital, she was furious. "Which bastard dared lay a hand on my son?"

Isabelle stood to the side, head lowered and silent. But the redness around her eyes made it clear she'd been crying for days.

I felt my heart clench. "I'm fine, Mom."

Then, I gently took Isabelle's hand and said, "Once I'm out of the hospital, I'm going to marry Belle."

Isabelle stiffened and instinctively tried to pull her hand away. But I tightened my grip, not giving her any chance to escape.

Our eyes met, and I nodded gently.

She froze. Then, after a long moment, she lowered her head and gently wiped away her tears.