If Oliver Kingston really cared about etiquette and societal expectations, Angela was the one to throw those rules out the window. She was all in—betting on everything. Unfortunately, it didn't work out the way she hoped.
She failed.
After what happened that night, Oliver didn't just pull away—he completely vanished.
And just a few days later, Angela saw the news. He was getting engaged to someone else.
The lucky woman was Gwen Hoffman. All flushed and glowing, she told the world they had been secretly dating for months.
Angela felt a chill run down her spine as if the world around her had suddenly gone cold. She couldn't sit still. Without thinking, she rushed into Oliver's office and confronted him, asking through gritted teeth if his family was forcing him into marriage.
He looked at her, that same cold smile on his face.
"Naive," he said, almost dismissively. "I'm the head of the Kingston family. Who could possibly force me into anything?"
He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Stop imagining things. You’re still young. Focus on learning more."
Angela couldn't even remember how she made it back home that day. All she could remember was the overwhelming weight of her heart-shattering. It was worse than when her family had collapsed. The grief felt suffocating.
And then, Joanne's call came through. "Angela, the maple trees here in New York are starting to turn yellow. Do you want to come back and see it? Also, I'm doing fine. I’ve got everything I need here. And Richard treats me well. It’s just that… Me and my husband have kids. This big house feels so empty. It would make me so happy if you could stay with me for a while."
Angela hesitated. If she left now, she knew she wouldn't come back. But part of her held onto that faint hope, which was tied to everything she felt for Oliver.
So, she respectfully rejected her aunt's offer.
But that hope? It stayed, faint as it was, until yesterday.
During a live stream, Angela saw Gwen's necklace. It glinted in the light, and for a moment, Angela felt like a needle had pierced her heart. That was the necklace her mother had given Oliver. The one she had left for him. And now, he was using it to propose to someone else.
Angela's fingers dug into her arm as she stared at the video, unable to look away. Her skin turned pale, and the red marks from her nails were clear against her arm. She knew the pain was real. And, more than anything, she knew it was finally time to let go.
Just as she was drowning in her own sorrow, a sharp cry from downstairs yanked her back to the present. Without thinking, she bolted barefoot out of the room.
Angela saw Gwen covering her hand, leaning pitifully in Oliver's arms.
"I just thought it looked pretty and wanted to touch it," Gwen said, her voice high and sweet. "Who knew it would bite me?"
Angela's heart raced. Her cat, Nala, was usually calm, never biting anyone. That cry—it wasn't just from being startled. There was a real pain in it.
She rushed to the sofa, her feet sliding on the floor as she scooped up the trembling cat.
Oliver's voice was oddly soft, his gaze distant. "That cat’s a beast. If you don’t like it, Gwen, we can get rid of it."
Angela's heart sank, the words stinging like salt in an open wound. She could barely hold herself together as she carefully cradled Nala against her chest.
"Oliver, Nala isn’t—"
She cut herself off, her voice faltering as she stared down at the cat. This was the gift Oliver had given her for her seventeenth birthday. Back then, she had been worried it would be hard to care for, but Oliver had promised her he could handle it.
"If I can take care of a person," he had said, "I can definitely take care of a cat."
That day, she'd held the little kitten in her arms, feeling content.
But now?
Now, he was calling her pet a "beast"—a word she never imagined he'd use for something so dear to her.
The sharp sting of betrayal hit her harder than anything before. She tried hard not to let the tears fall, but it was like holding back an avalanche.
"Even though it’s just a beast, at least it’s Angela’s pet. I won’t argue with her. But the vaccination will be painful—can you take me to the vet?" Gwen's voice was syrupy and sweet, practically dripping with fake kindness as she pressed closer to Oliver, her face soft with feigned innocence.
"Nala's already had its vaccination…" Angela mumbled, and she knew Gwen lied. After all, there were no scratches or marks on Gwen's hand.
Oliver shot Angela coldly as he scooped Gwen into his arms and walked toward the door. He didn't even bother to look at Angela's bare feet.
Gwen, her face a mask of coyness, leaned against Oliver's shoulder and kept shooting Angela these little glances, a smug grin tugging at the corners of her lips.
The front door clicked shut behind them, and the sound of the reminder beep from Angela's phone echoed in the silence. It was time to take Nala to the shelter.
With a shaky breath, Angela wiped her eyes, quickly gathered her things, and left the house.
