The Henson family—the wealthiest in Ashford—sent people to find Winona Henson while I was helping her chase chickens around the farm.
They said she was the Henson family's missing heiress, gone for five years, sole inheritor of a fortune worth billions.
"This is the Henson family's compensation for these past five years. We hope you'll accept it."
I knew what it really was—hush money, meant to sever whatever bond existed between Winona and me.
Winona's eyes went red-rimmed. She grabbed my sleeve, her face crumpling with hurt and desperation.
"I'll go back—but only if he comes with me!"
The entourage exchanged uneasy glances, no one daring to respond. I wiped the chicken droppings off my hands, and right in front of Winona, I took the black card.
"Winona, go back on your own."
"I'm used to living down south. It's too dry and cold up north. I don't like it."
Winona, it's not that I never went back with you.
It's just that I died too horribly last time. This time around, I've learned my lesson.
……
The December wind cut through the air, damp and biting.
Winona clung to my sleeve, her lashes glistening. "Dominic Delgado... are you really throwing me away?"
The same words as my past life. The same look in her eyes.
But this time, I wouldn't soften.
I looked past her, up the ridge where a dark wall of people in suits stood waiting, and pried her fingers loose one by one.
"Winona, you never belonged here."
"Have you forgotten? You're just a stray I picked up off the side of the road."
The moment those words landed, the wet shimmer in her eyes flooded crimson.
She hated hearing that more than anything.
When I first found Winona, she could barely string a sentence together. I asked her name, where she was from—she just shook her head, blank and lost.
I had no other choice. I kept her with me.
Some of the village kids started calling her "Goldie," said she was a dog that followed me everywhere.
Winona despised it, but she couldn't shut their mouths.
"Lena, it's okay."
"Their mouths belong to them. As long as we know the truth, that's all that matters."
My late grandfather taught me that.
I passed it on to Winona.
And now I was the one throwing those same words back in her face.
"Dominic—do five years together really mean so little to you? Is this all our love is worth?"
Her voice shook when she spoke.
In my past life, I'd felt the same way. I thought five years of love shouldn't be bought off so cheaply.
So even knowing what awaited me in Ashford—the Henson family's scrutiny, their contempt, their cruelty—I still chose to stand beside her and face it together.
"Winona, people die without money. But without love? They actually live easier."
"You've spent five years with me. You know how much money matters. What's on that card could keep my grandmother and me comfortable for the rest of our lives."
I didn't want to drag this out any longer. I called past her shoulder to the people on the ridge.
"What are you standing around for?"
"Or are you waiting for your precious Miss Henson to crawl into the car herself?"
The words fell like a blade—cold, final.
Winona snapped.
She ripped the card from my hand, bent it until it cracked in half, and hurled both pieces into the muddy pond beside us.
Then she threw herself against me, arms locked tight, clinging like she'd die if she let go. "Dominic, I don't want to leave!"
"I just want to be with you! I promised your grandmother I'd take care of you—you said we'd have a son and a daughter together, that we'd work hard and save up and move to the city!"
"Now I can give you the best life imaginable. Why are you suddenly like this?"
Five years. In five years, Winona's dependence on me had sunk bone-deep.
She believed she couldn't live without me. Believed I was the only one she'd ever need.
That was only because the Winona standing here didn't remember—back in Ashford, she had a fiancé waiting for her.
