Chapter 2

After college, Evan swore he'd build something from nothing, all for Ivy. During the hardest years of his startup, he survived on dollar meals so he could save every cent to pay off her debts.

Then she disappeared, without so much as a goodbye or an explanation. She vanished right when he was at his lowest, when he needed her the most.

After that, Evan became a different person. He buried every sharp edge, locked away every feeling, and accepted the love match his family arranged for him. That match was me.

In six years, he never once brought up Ivy's name. And so, I'd always believed she was a closed chapter in his life. I never imagined I'd see her again at our engagement party.

Evan stood silently watching Ivy, his gaze fixed on her hands, which were covered in calluses and blisters. He didn't speak for a long time, long enough for the noise in the ballroom to die down. The guests exchanged knowing glances and quietly filed out, leaving them the space.

Finally, he pulled a business card from inside his jacket and held it out to her. His voice shifted back to the cold, businesslike tone he used at work.

"Call this number. My assistant will set you up with a decent job." He paused, his voice dropping lower. "Stop doing this kind of work. And stay out of my life."

Ivy's eyes went bloodshot. She took the card with shaking hands and looked up at Evan, then slowly shifted her gaze to me.

Something complicated flickered across her face. It seemed like regret, frustration, and something else I couldn't quite name. She clutched the card, pulled her torn uniform tighter around herself, and hurried out of the ballroom.

Evan didn't look away until she was completely out of sight. He straightened his jacket, walked back to me, and gently took my hand. His palm was still warm, his voice back to its usual softness.

"Winnie, I didn't scare you, did I?" He looked down at me with a hint of apology in his eyes. "I'm sorry for ruining the night. I promise I'll make it up to you with the perfect wedding."

I looked up at him and managed a smile.

But my mind kept drifting to the board meeting yesterday. A major shareholder lost his temper during a disagreement over a project decision and slapped me across the face in front of every director in the room.

The conference room went dead silent. My cheek burned, and everyone looked at Evan.

All he did was frown and say, in a perfectly even voice, "Winnie, Mr. Whitman is getting on in years. He gets worked up easily. Don't take it personally."

Then he turned and went to calm the shareholder down.

At the time, I told myself that he was just being practical. After all, he was the CEO, and he had to pick his battles.

But after that day, I finally understood. It wasn't that he couldn't lose control, and it wasn't that he couldn't feel protective. The person who could make him throw everything aside and act on pure instinct had just never been me.

The next morning, Evan and I were heading to the conference room for a negotiation worth hundreds of millions of dollars when the receptionist called out that a delivery had arrived.

Ivy walked in, soaking wet, carrying a bag of food. Her hair was plastered to her pale cheeks, rainwater dripping steadily from her clothes. She clearly hadn't expected to run into Evan.