Chapter 4

The next day, I was woken by William's voice.

"Why are you sleeping out here?"

"What happened to your face? Why are you covered in hives?"

He knelt beside the sofa, his deep eyes filled with genuine alarm.

It was the first time in days that we had truly made eye contact.

But the feeling was so foreign, it only made me feel more distant.

"Shit!"

"I can't believe I forgot you can't have white truffles!"

Guilt finally registered on William's face. He immediately canceled all his meetings and rushed me to the hospital.

In front of the doctor, he played the part of a flawless, incredibly attentive fiancé.

"Your fiancé is so caring."

The nurse who changed my IV drip glanced at William, who was standing by the window on a call, and gave me a conspiratorial wink.

But as I watched his frantic figure, my heart felt like a pool of stagnant water, without a single ripple.

If he really cared about me, I wouldn't be lying here getting emergency treatment.

A humorless smile touched my lips, but I said nothing.

The IV dripped for three full hours. William stayed by my bedside the entire time, not even touching his phone.

The screen lit up several times, but he steadfastly ignored it.

I knew, deep down, that as a rising star in the financial world, he really didn't have a habit of idle chatting during work hours.

All those countless messages with Tessa were exchanged on weekends and late at night.

But that was time he could have given to me. He just chose not to.

On the drive back to the apartment, he kept glancing over at me. "By the way," he said, as if suddenly remembering. "You left a note yesterday saying you needed to discuss something. What was it?"

My fingers, about to unbuckle my seatbelt, paused.

So he had seen the note. And he remembered it clearly.

I shook my head and refastened my seatbelt. "It's nothing anymore."

There was nothing left to discuss.

William kept trying to make conversation in the car, talking about some colleague, asking what I wanted for dinner.

I couldn't hear a single word.

"I'll make you some light soup when we get back, how about that?"

He said this as he strode out of the elevator, but his words trailed off as he stopped short.

I followed his gaze and saw the woman waiting outside our door.

Tessa was crouching by our apartment door, hugging her knees.

Beside her was a bouquet of flowers and a half-eaten hamburger.

Tessa scrambled to her feet, rubbing her legs, her eyes slightly red.

"I called you five times and you didn't answer. You didn't reply to my texts. I thought something had happened to you."

Her voice was laced with a hint of a plea, but her eyes flickered toward me.

"So… are we still going?"

A conflicted look crossed William's face. He subconsciously glanced back at me.

I knew that look all too well.

I didn't look at him. I walked past them both and pushed the door open.

He hesitated for a few seconds, then followed me into the entryway, lowering his voice to a placating whisper.

"I'll just take Tessa out to take care of something. You rest at home, okay? I promise I'll be back soon."

Tessa followed him in, the bouquet in her hand still dripping water.

I looked up and said flatly, "Be my guest."

Perhaps finally sensing the coldness in my tone, William changed his mind.

He spoke in a low voice from outside the bedroom door. "Okay, then I'll just take Tessa home."

"There's warm milk in the kitchen. Remember to drink it."

Hearing the heavy front door click shut, I came out.

I walked to the kitchen island. The glass of milk was still steaming gently.

I took the glass and sat on the sofa, watching the wall clock.

One hour passed, then two. The sky outside darkened, but the door never moved.

I knew he wouldn't be back.

After seven years, I knew him too well.

From the moment he said, "I'll just take Tessa home," I knew the rest of his day wouldn't belong to me.

I sat at the table and drank the now-cold milk, sip by sip.

Then I washed the glass, placed it upside down on the drying rack, and wiped down the table. It all felt like my old routine, no different from before.

As the second hand on the clock ticked over to five p.m. exactly.

I picked up my last suitcase. The fifteen-day countdown had finally reached zero.

I glanced back one last time.

This apartment, where I had lived for three years. I had naively believed it was my sanctuary, a place to escape my family's dazzling legacy, a real home for me and the man I loved.

Now, it was clear it had all been a joke, my own wishful thinking.

The moment the door closed behind me, my seven-year relationship with him was locked away with it.

Downstairs, a fleet of black bulletproof SUVs was waiting.

Men in dark suits bowed respectfully as I approached. “Welcome back, Principessa Charlotte,” the lead Capo said, opening my door.

I slipped into the back of the car, leaving William’s world behind forever.

When William hurried back to the apartment, the place was pitch black.

He called my name twice. No response.

In that instant, his heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. Alarm bells screamed in his head.

He started frantically calling my phone.

The first call went to voicemail.

The second, the phone was off.

By the last attempt, the number was no longer in service.

He switched to our chat and sent a string of question marks. None of them delivered.

His fingers trembled.

He scrolled to the very top of our conversation and finally opened the voice message from three days ago, the one he had never bothered to listen to.

[Let's break up.]

Just a few seconds. A few words.

William stared blankly at the two-letter word he had so casually typed in reply: [OK.]

His hand trembled, and with a clatter, the phone fell to the floor.