Chapter 7

Nicole came back to her senses, gazing at the fireworks as she murmured, "The flowers still bloom in the gentle spring breeze, but the face I long for has vanished."

"Why say something so sad?" Tristan pulled her into a tight embrace. "I love you, Nicky. Please, don’t leave me."

Love?

Nicole found it laughable. She wanted to ask him how he could profess love to her right after being with another woman in their bed. How could he feel no shame? How could he be so utterly brazen?

She sighed. Forget it—all of it. She had already made up her mind. She would leave him for good.

That night, the party went on until late. One by one, the guests eventually left.

As usual, Tristan left early the next morning.

Nicole picked up her phone and noticed a text message.

"Open your phone and watch Lisa Evans’s livestream. You’ll see what you want to see."

The number was unfamiliar, but she had a pretty good idea of who it could be.

She searched for Lisa’s livestream and clicked into it. Sure enough, Lisa was streaming live.

Today was her birthday, and the celebration was lavish.

But what caught Nicole’s attention was the house. It was all too familiar—the rows of dresses and high heels behind Lisa were also familiar.

They were the same ones Tristan had brought for Nicole to choose from that day, with the rest sent to Willow Manor.

It hit her. This was their property at Willow Manor.

Lisa had moved in.

Nicole’s hand trembled as she held her phone. Her disappointment in Tristan had reached its limit.

"Hello, everyone," Lisa said cheerfully. "Today is my birthday, and this party was arranged by my boyfriend."

The comment section was full of admiration.

"What a grand party! Lisa’s boyfriend is amazing."

"Exactly! It’s just as extravagant as the birthday parties Tristan Ford throws for Nicole Snow!"

"Wait, is Lisa living in Willow Manor? The property prices there are twenty thousand dollars per square meter! I can’t believe she’s living somewhere so luxurious!"

"Lisa, when will your boyfriend make an appearance? I’m so jealous of your love story!"

…

Seeing the flood of blessings in the comments, Lisa smirked and raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, it’s not convenient. I need to protect his privacy."

The next moment, a series of extravagant virtual gifts lit up the screen.

"Wow, who is this? So rich!"

Nicole tapped on the sender’s profile. It was a blank account with no posts or information.

But her instincts told her it was Tristan’s alternate account.

As the livestream continued, Lisa proudly showcased the Ferrari she had received—a car identical to the one Tristan had given Nicole the night before.

The comment section exploded, the barrage of messages moving so quickly that Nicole couldn’t make out a single word.

She lowered her head and quietly turned off her phone.

Her eyes drifted to the clock on the wall. The time read July 15.

Her planned death date was tomorrow.

Nicole glanced around the cold, lifeless house, her resolve hardening. She was ready to end it all.

But even in death, she wouldn’t let Lisa and Tristan have their way.

Pulling out her phone, she sent Lisa a text message, inviting her to meet at Northern Gate Bridge the next day.

Lisa replied almost immediately, "Sure, so you finally decided to confront me, Nicole. I guess you’re not as stupid as I thought."

Before Nicole could respond, another message followed. It was a photo.

It was Tristan, wearing an apron, cooking in the kitchen.

"See this? He made me dinner for my birthday. Has he ever done that for you?"

Nicole stared at the photo, and her heart tightened painfully.

Ten years. She had known Tristan for ten years, and in all that time, he had never once cooked for her.

But for Lisa, he was willing to step into the kitchen?

She let out a bitter laugh. Ten years of love and devotion—all of it had been for nothing.