He used the excuse of family poverty, asking me to be understanding.
University tuition was only around ten thousand, but that same summer, he bought Lucian an eighty-thousand-dollar motorcycle just because Lucian had developed a passion for road trips.
I could tolerate my father’s favoritism, but when it came to my childhood sweetheart, I wasn’t willing to back down even an inch.
That afternoon, I went to see Rosalind.
I knew the Winslow family wasn’t truly evil. In this life, I planned to sever that cursed bond quickly—but only if Rosalind would wait for me, even just for a year.
"Rosalind, that’s all I wanted to say. I know it sounds sudden, but please believe me."
Rosalind blinked her large, innocent eyes—the same expression she’d had since we were children.
Given our history, I thought an immediate agreement would have been an unspoken understanding.
But she hesitated for a long time before finally shaking her head.
"I’m sorry, Daniel. I can’t promise you that."
My heart sank, a chill spreading through my body.
Truthfully, I’d already had a bad feeling—after all, in my past life, she hadn’t resisted marrying Lucian at all. In fact, she had looked happy.
My voice cracked.
"I see. So you’ve already set your heart on someone else."
She shook her head again.
"No. The Andersons and Everlys have had a marriage agreement for years. Uncle Gideon Anderson promised a three-million-dollar dowry for me to marry his son."
"Uncle Gideon has two sons. I didn’t care whether it was you or Lucian, but since you’re being married off to the Winslows, I don’t have a choice."
I clenched my teeth, unsure whether to laugh, cry, or rage. The irony was unbearable.
So it had all been one-sided. What she cared about was the dowry.
"I see."
I turned away.
"But he may not actually have that money."
"No, Uncle Gideon said that for his son’s future, not a single cent would be missing."
The pain in my heart deepened. He had thrown his real son to the Winslows to settle a debt, yet he had cash on hand to fund his eldest son’s wedding.
With nothing left to hold me here, I resolved to go to the Winslow family.
What none of them knew was that Juliette Winslow wasn’t actually paralyzed—she just suffered from severe autism and hadn’t left the house in years.
In my past life, Juliette had fallen deeply in love with me, swearing she’d do anything for me.
But back then, I saw the Winslow family as my prison, desperate to escape.
I waited every day for my father to fulfill his promise and save me, neglecting her in the process.
Until she grew disillusioned, and Mr. Winslow cast me out.
Now, it seemed, perhaps the Winslow family was my true destiny.
There were only three days left before the contract took effect—my final three days in this house.
That night, when I returned home, my father had left food for me.
Lifting the fly cover, I saw the usual: two steamed buns and some bland vegetables without a trace of oil.
"Money’s tight lately. Just bear with it. Once you’re at the Winslows, you’ll have all the luxuries you want."
The house still smelled of meat—if I had to guess, it was his signature fish-fragrant shredded pork.
A dish I was lucky to eat twice a year, but one Lucian had long grown tired of.
I saw through it but said nothing. After all, this had been my life for over a decade.
Chewing on the buns, I made small talk as usual.
"Where’s Lucian? Out again?"
He smiled.
"You know how your brother is—never stays home. But that’s good. A young man needs to explore the world to make something of himself."
I shook my head. More likely, he was at the arcade playing slot machines.
Just last month, he’d been swindled out of six million by loan sharks.
Some people never learn.
