Chapter 5

The press room was packed with reporters, all drawn to today's headline event: Leopold and Elora's public apology.

"You think this apology is legit?" one journalist whispered.

"They wouldn't lie at an official press conference, would they?"

"So they really did smear Lisbeth?"

"If it's true, this is front-page material. Get good shots."

The whispers died down as Leopold and Elora finally made their entrance. His face was a mask of reluctance—the product of Elora's tearful pleading throughout the previous night.

Every time he'd refused, she'd burst into tears, looking so pitiful that Leopold eventually couldn't hold out.

Now on stage, his expression remained rigid, his lips pressed into a thin line. Before he could speak, the main doors opened, revealing two unexpected arrivals.

Lisbeth, with her young assistant by her side.

She stood in the doorway, feeling the weight of countless stares like knives—examining, judging, dissecting her every move.

Outside, Sebastian waited in the car. His reason for staying behind was simple: this was her moment, and as a famous actor, his mere presence would divert all attention from the apology.

When Leopold spotted her, his face twisted with disgust. Elora nudged him with her elbow.

"This press conference is to clarify that my previous statements were false," Leopold reluctantly began. "Lisbeth never cheated. After waking up from my coma, I forgot everything between us. I admit it—I don't love her anymore. I love Elora now."

The room erupted in chaos. Reporters surged forward, thrusting microphones toward his face.

"So you were actually slinging mud this whole time? Making everything up?"

"You're really choosing Elora over your wife and child?"

"You're abandoning your family! We heard Lisbeth's scars came from saving your life. Don't you feel any guilt?"

Leopold answered bluntly, "How can I feel guilty about something I don't even remember?"

The reporters fell silent, stunned. Then Leopold looked directly at Lisbeth.

"I don't want to hide behind my memory loss. I admit I've had a change of heart. Maybe we were once deeply in love, but that's in the past now."

His voice hardened. "I said those things because I wanted a divorce, but it's not entirely my fault. You refused to let go, clinging to a marriage that was already over. I was desperate."

He spoke with unsettling calmness, his face a portrait of feigned regret. "I just want to be with the person I love. As for the child, if it's mine as you claim, I'll take responsibility. But I hope you'll stop pursuing me. Let's call our past debts settled and never see each other again."

"Perhaps I loved you once, but now, the person I love is right here beside me." He wrapped his arm around Elora, his expression softening with tenderness.

Everyone turned to look at Lisbeth. Even dressed beautifully, even with the scars on her face unable to diminish her radiance, she appeared heartbreakingly vulnerable in this moment.

Two images flashed before Lisbeth's eyes:

Years ago, when she'd hit rock bottom, people would throw garbage at her and splash dirty water when she went out.

Leopold would always be the first to stand in front of her, shielding her from all the filth and mockery, loudly declaring to everyone, "Lisbeth is the love of my life. I won't allow anyone to hurt her."

In a daze, that memory overlapped with the Leopold standing before her now. The difference was, she was no longer the girl in his arms.

She suddenly smiled—a smile tinged with sorrow, but more with acceptance.

"Leopold, from today on, you don't owe me anything, and I don't owe you. We're even."

He had once endured so much hostility and abuse for her sake. Now it was her turn to face that humiliation. And that was okay.

Leopold looked at her, feeling an inexplicable tightness in his chest that vanished almost instantly. He interpreted it as relief at finally being free of Lisbeth.

Since waking up, he couldn't stand the sight of her, no matter how he tried. But now, his heart felt strangely peaceful.

"Just remember what you said."

"I will."

Lisbeth had always been stubborn. People used to say she was as stubborn as a bull—once she made up her mind, nothing could change it.

Just as she had once unhesitatingly put her career aside to marry Leopold, today she made another decision she would never take back.

She looked at Leopold one last time—not seeing him as he was now, but as he had been three years ago—the man in a suit who had happily lifted her and spun her around on their wedding day.

"Beth, I finally got to marry you."

"Beth, I'll be good to you for the rest of my life!"

"Beth, honey, you're my wife now!"

"Beth, you're my treasure from now on!"

"Beth, we'll be together forever. I'll always love you."

He had said so many things on their wedding day. But he never said that one day, he would leave without warning, catching her completely off guard.

She had hated Leopold. She hated his cold-heartedness, hated that he couldn't believe she was the woman he'd shared his life with, hated that losing his memory meant he could love someone else.

But today he admitted it plainly—it wasn't about memory loss. He simply didn't love her anymore.

She finally understood that love was so unreasonable—here one moment, gone the next.

As her hatred burned, she discovered that in the end, love still outweighed it, because he had been the only one to reach out when she fell into the abyss.

'I once regretted that our goodbye was so ugly,' she thought. 'But today I've made myself beautiful, and I've said goodbye to you with dignity.'

"Leopold, goodbye," she said softly. "And I wish you happiness."

Ignoring the reporters swarming around her, she turned and left. This time, she didn't look back.

The journalists fell silent, watching that slender figure for a long, long time.

Someone finally murmured: "That's the Lisbeth we remember. She never changed." Beautiful, sharp, strong, and brave.

Leopold stared at Lisbeth's retreating form, transfixed.

For a fleeting moment, his head throbbed with excruciating pain, as if struck by a massive hammer. He doubled over and began to vomit.

Elora panicked and quickly called an ambulance. The reporters could ask no further questions as Leopold was rushed to the hospital, bringing the press conference to an abrupt end.

The ambulance and Lisbeth's car drove in opposite directions—like two diverging paths, never to meet again.

Her assistant looked at Lisbeth and offered a tissue. "Ms. Whitaker, please wipe your face."

Lisbeth took the tissue and touched her cheek, only then realizing that the coolness on her face wasn't from the wind but from tears.

She suddenly laughed. "How undignified of me."

But the tears kept flowing like a broken dam.

Her assistant watched with a heavy heart. "Ms. Whitaker, if you need to cry, just let it out."

Laughing while crying like this was too heartbreaking to witness.