She Chose Him Again

Some people were watching the drama. Others were watching me.

It was like they were all waiting for me to lose control again, the way I used to. Waiting for me to make a scene.

Then a dramatically aggrieved voice cut through the air.

"Meanie! Don't bully Lydia!"

Mason Jacobs, dressed in custom-made overalls styled like a child's outfit, lunged toward me like a boy throwing a tantrum. He scrambled forward on both hands and feet.

Lydia Clark panicked at once. She rushed forward and pulled him tightly behind her, shielding him without hesitation. "Mason has the mind of a child. If you have a problem, take it out on me."

She positioned herself between us, calm but unyielding.

I stared at her, stunned, my thoughts drifting back to last month.

Our wedding had been halfway through when Mason suddenly barged in and wrecked the entire ceremony. I had finally had enough and confronted Lydia coldly.

Afterward, much to my dismay, Mason secretly laced my drink with rat poison and nearly cost me my life.

Maybe, in Lydia's eyes, he had always mattered far more than I did.

"Why are your eyes red?" Her fingertips brushed lightly against the corner of my eye.

"Since the ring has arrived, let's go ahead with the wedding as planned." She took my hand with practiced ease. Every time I was upset, she did this. She called it her way of "recharging" me.

My mind told me to shake her off, but an inexplicable ache swelled in my chest.

In the silence, Mason suddenly dropped to his knees, tilting his head up as he spoke in a soft, childish tone. "Elliot, Mr. Butler said, if sick, take medicine. Mason good boy."

Lydia quickly pulled him back to his feet and said to me, "Elliot, it's not what you think. Stop holding onto this and making things hard for him. He's not mentally sound now. He can't threaten your place."

Not mentally sound?

Lydia and Mason had once been known as the most gifted pair in the business world. Standing side by side, they had been unmatched. That was why she had always given him a kind of favoritism no one else received.

Of all the men around her, Mason was the only one allowed within ten feet of her. Even the dates I had carefully planned would be canceled the moment we ran into him by chance.

Her preference for him had never been subtle.

I lowered my gaze, no longer willing to look, and simply pulled a stack of photos from my bag. "What if the person who risked his life to save you back then… was me?"

These photos were the only evidence I had managed to obtain after a long search, tracking down a passerby who had been there that day. I had originally planned to give them to her as a surprise at our wedding.

Lydia let out a soft laugh, her tone laced with obvious impatience. "Elliot, that's enough. I can't believe you'd go so far as to fabricate evidence just to compete for attention. Don't be so childish. How far are you planning to push Mason before you're done?"

Childish?

I only did not want her to be bound by a misplaced sense of gratitude. I had been "reasonable" for eight years, and all I had gotten in return was one humiliation after another.

Mason shot me a fleeting glance. The smile at the corner of his lips widened.

"Elliot really went all out this time," someone in the crowd spoke up. "He even dug up evidence. Lydia, you're so protective of Mason that you even credited him with saving you instead of Elliot. Aren't you afraid Elliot might leave you?"

Another voice immediately countered, "Oh, please. Elliot loves Lydia so much. He would never leave. Besides, he's an orphan. What would he be without her?"

At that moment, I could not even force a smile.

So, she had known the truth all along. I had been the fool, clutching my sincerity and moving myself to tears for eight years.

Lydia offered no explanation. She simply patted my back lightly. "Be good. Destroy the photos and stay somewhere else for a while. When you've calmed down, I'll have you brought back."

Her tone was still gentle, but there was a warning in her eyes.

I took a step back and tossed the photos into the reception wine. "Alright."

Lydia stared at her now-empty hand, momentarily stunned.

It was always like this—sending me away under the disguise of concern and using distance to pressure me. Because she knew I was alone. She knew I had nowhere to go.

I had long grown used to her methods.

What she did not know was that my biological parents had found me. They had settled overseas, and in three days, they would arrive to take me home.