Chapter 4

The following day, Dylan came to the hospital to pick me up. He looked like he hadn't slept all night. His eyes were bloodshot, and the first thing he did after taking his seat was glance at my IV bag. "Did you bleed again last night?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

I held his gaze.

I'd called him last night. My call had barely rung twice before he hung up.

Sam explained that Phoebe couldn't stop crying while she was getting stitches, so Dylan had stayed beside her and couldn't answer his phone.

"I was afraid of bothering you."

Dylan fell silent for a moment. He must have remembered that phone call, too. He reached out and pulled me into his arms. "Phoebe's hand was cut by the cracked emerald, and she needed two stitches. Growing up, she's always been afraid of pain. Plus, she's all alone, so I couldn't abandon her."

"I see," I responded softly.

"I know you're upset about the bracelet." He paused for a beat before lowering his voice. "I was the one who fell out with her first, and she ended up leaving the country. I've been doing just fine these past seven years, but she never came back. I owe her, Harper."

I leaned against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. So, he'd never forgotten that he owed Phoebe. Consequently, after she returned to the country, he'd given her a position at his company, shielded her from rumors, and carried her out of the burning building first.

I, on the other hand, owed him as well. When Mom was gravely ill, I'd knelt in front of the hospital payment window, begging the doctor to give me one more day. Dylan was the one who helped me up and handed me his card.

Later, when he had been ostracized by his family, I'd stayed by his side in that tiny office, eating instant noodles and helping him organize documents until dawn. When someone deliberately tried to get him drunk at business gatherings, I'd stepped in to take his place. Even when I'd drunk until I started bleeding internally, I hadn't backed down.

Back then, I'd always felt that he'd given me too much, and I still hadn't done enough for him. After the fire took my child away from me, I realized I had repaid him for all the kindness he'd shown me over the past seven years and that I didn't owe him anything anymore.

Noticing I was zoning out, he raised his hand and gently touched my cheek. "Once you're feeling better, I'll take you down south for a short stay. Haven't you always wanted to see the ocean?"

I looked at the face that was inches away from me, and all of a sudden, my eyes pricked. He had also promised to take me to see the ocean in the second year of our marriage.

Before we were supposed to leave, Smith Group suddenly suffered a cash flow crisis. That night, he leaned back against the couch in his office, and he teared up in front of me for the very first time. "I might have nothing left, Harper."

I canceled our plane tickets and transferred all my savings into his account. "It's okay. I'll help you earn it all back."

Smith Group had managed to survive. He'd held me in his arms and promised that once he'd secured his position, he'd make it up to me with a proper vacation.

In the blink of an eye, I'd waited for five years. Now that he'd finally remembered, I no longer wanted to go.

"Okay," I agreed, just as I always had.

He smiled, bent down, and kissed my forehead. "Go to sleep. I'll stay right here with you."

That night, for once, he didn't leave. I listened to the sound of his breathing, lying awake until the first light of day.

…

After being discharged from the hospital, I didn't bring up that fire again, nor did I ask Dylan any questions about Phoebe. I handed all the jewelry, properties, and shares Dylan had given me to my lawyer.

When the housekeeper, Martha Brown, noticed that half my vanity was empty, she couldn't help but ask, "Why are you packing your belongings up, Mrs. Smith?"

"I've just grown out of some of these styles."

Martha didn't think much of it.

Everyone knew that Dylan had spoiled me for seven years. They were convinced I couldn't bear to give up my position as the lady of the Smith family, much less the comfortable life he'd given me.

However, they'd forgotten that seven years ago, when I first moved into the Smith residence, all I had was an old suitcase. It contained two sets of clothes, a photo of Mom, and a hospital bill for 370 grand that I owed Dylan. Now that I was leaving, one suitcase was still all I needed.

…

Dylan was out of town on the day I left.

Phoebe's project had run into trouble, and several board members refused to sign off on it. Hence, he went in person to back her up.

That morning, he sent me a message. "I'll be back as soon as this is sorted out. Let's have dinner together tonight." His tone was no different than usual.

He probably assumed I'd do what I'd done for the past seven years—leave the lights on for him and wait for him to come home. However, this time, I left him on read.

When the airport announcement sounded, I handed the divorce agreement to my lawyer. "Give it to him after my plane takes off."

My lawyer glanced at the property and asset documents. "Do you really not want any of the real estate, stocks, and jewelry?"

"Nah."

"These are enough for you to live comfortably for the rest of your life."

I lowered my eyes to look at my palm. The wedding ring I'd worn for seven years was gone, leaving only a faint white band around my finger. "If I take them, I'll always feel like I still owe him something. This way, we're even."

When the plane pierced through the clouds, the lights of Valenford shrank into tiny specks below.

Seven years ago, I'd moved out of a basement and into the Smith residence. It was the first time I'd ever slept in such a soft bed, and I'd been too afraid to turn over all night. Dylan teased me for being silly and pulled me, blanket and all, into his arms. "This is your home, Harper."

In time, I learned how to wear evening gowns, drink red wine, and smile while dealing with the Smiths who looked down on me. Eventually, they'd stopped calling me a pauper to my face.

I'd almost forgotten that I'd never truly belonged there in the first place. It only struck me when Dylan let go of my hand and turned to carry Phoebe out of that fire.

Only the woman he chose had the right to stay at the Smith residence. I'd simply been someone he'd happened to save once, and I'd mistaken that one act of kindness for a promise that he'd keep choosing me for the rest of my life.

This city had given me the hardest days of my life, but it had also given me a home that felt like a dream. Now, the dream was over.

I didn't die in that fire, but Dylan's wife was left in the ashes forever.