Six Years in Prison for My Girlfriend's Lie

Mason's POV

I sat in the car and watched the cityscape recede. Six years had passed, and Neo-Maris had grown into a sprawling metropolis.

We glided past a towering skyscraper where a giant billboard was broadcasting a news segment. "The richest woman in the country, Yvonne Preston, splurges on a six-figure luxury watch for her new beau. The couple is seen walking hand in hand into an opulent mansion."

Six figures. I slowly counted the digits in my head. Then, I lowered my gaze to my wrist, where the red string she had bought for me six years ago still rested.

It had cost only two dollars, and the surface of the string had long since grown dull and rough. I gently untied it and casually tossed it out the window.

…

In the blink of an eye, the car arrived at a villa.

While I was lost in thought, Yvonne's assistant, Juliette Parker, handed me a phone.

Yvonne's light, melodious voice slowly came through. "I have something to take care of right now, Mason. Wait for me at home."

I listened quietly and waited three full beats before humming in response.

Yvonne fell silent for a moment, as if she was perplexed.

I had grown much quieter in six years. I was no longer the exuberant young man who used to fill her ears with endless, bubbling chatter.

After hanging up, I sat in the villa and waited for her return. The housekeepers behind me glanced at me a few times before whispering among themselves.

"Ms. Preston brought another man home again. This one's way too skinny. He's not good-looking, either."

"I heard he just got out of prison."

"Jesus, what bad luck! Ms. Preston's tastes are getting more and more eccentric. In the past, she at least brought home celebrities, models, and scions. This one's just..."

The three of them sighed, bemoaning how unworthy I was of someone like Yvonne.

I didn't feel a thing. I just couldn't help but raise my hand to check the time.

Seven hours had passed since Yvonne had asked me to wait for her return. I hadn't eaten a single thing since my release, and with the air conditioning blasting indoors, I was both cold and famished.

Unable to take it anymore, I asked the butler if he had heard from Yvonne. I had only asked him twice when he shot me an irritated look, as if I was one of those people who were constantly pestering Yvonne.

"Ms. Preston's with Mr. Emerson. The two of them are watching fireworks on a cruise ship. She doesn't have time for you."

Oliver Emerson—his name flashed through my mind. Six years ago, he had driven drunk and seriously injured two pedestrians. I had gone to prison in his place.

Consequently, I fell from grace—from the beloved scion of the Clark family to a lowly convict. Meanwhile, he had transformed into the man who had risen from the slums, whom Yvonne had spoiled and placed on a pedestal.

However, none of that mattered to me anymore. After surviving the bankruptcy of my family, followed by both my parents committing suicide, nothing could stir even the slightest ripple in my heart.

Except for the two things Yvonne had promised me before I went to prison—to take me as her husband and to redeem my family's heirloom bracelet.

But now, I no longer wanted to marry her. My only wish was to get my family heirloom back.

I snapped back to reality as the pain twisting in my stomach intensified. Clutching my stomach, I made my way to the kitchen.

When I tried to make something for myself, a housekeeper swatted my hand away. "Hands off! Ms. Preston and Mr. Emerson don't like it when outsiders dine here. Please hold on for a little longer."

With that, she rolled her eyes at me and strutted off.