In the end, Molly couldn't bring herself to call him "brother."
Because she really did love him.
Loved him so much that when he looked at her with indifference, she pretended not to notice. As long as she could be near him, she was happy.
But he simply didn't love her back.
The woman in his heart meant too much to him. He wouldn't even give Molly a chance—wouldn't try to get to know her.
Still, she had to admire him. In this fast-paced world, staying devoted to one person was rare.
Well, at least I have good taste in men!
So she was willing to step aside and let him have his happiness.
Miles said she could come get the brooch whenever she wanted, or he'd have it delivered.
The moment Molly agreed, she felt lighter than she had in years.
I'm a good person, she told herself. Someday, someone will treasure me too.
When Mrs. Vance heard that Sibyl had once again pulled her son away at a critical moment, she slammed her hand on the table.
"That woman isn't worth half of what Molly is! What's gotten into Miles? I need to find a way to get those two together properly. A beauty like Molly, with that sweet temperament—she's exactly his type!"
"Mom, save your energy. I already talked to Molly." Miles walked in, half-dragging an exhausted Felix behind him. He raised an eyebrow at his parents, still awake at three in the morning.
"Talked about what?"
"Once I've recovered from the jet lag, we're getting divorced." He loosened his collar and sank onto the sofa.
"Molly agreed to this?" Mrs. Vance sounded skeptical.
"She did. I just dropped her off at home. She even wished me well." He paused. "Just as you wanted—from now on, we're siblings."
Mrs. Vance hadn't expected them to have already settled it between themselves.
"That girl was in the bloom of her youth when she married into this family. You treated her like a decoration for three years, and now you're just... done? Miles, are you sure you won't regret this?"
"I won't."
Mrs. Vance was too choked up to argue further. She grabbed her husband's arm and pulled him toward the stairs, muttering as she went: "He doesn't want someone as wonderful as Molly, but he's obsessed with that woman. His eyes might be fixed, but there's clearly something wrong with his head. Absolutely hopeless."
Molly had pulled two all-nighters in a row. When she finally woke, it was already afternoon.
The smell of cooking drifted into her room. She wandered out of the bedroom and found her best friend Kirsten in the kitchen, stirring a pot of congee.
Molly leaned against the doorframe, smiling. "Well, hello there, little fairy godmother."
"Your Highness." Kirsten curtsied dramatically. "Ready to wash up and eat?"
Molly was starving. She freshened up quickly and sat down at the table, eating while she talked. "Weren't you supposed to be in South District for that shoot?"
"Your mother-in-law was worried about you. Asked me to come keep an eye on you." Kirsten set a bowl of congee in front of her. "So... you and Miles. It's really happening?"
"Yeah."
"Six years of waiting, and this is how it ends?" Kirsten's voice rose with indignation. "If it weren't for you back then, Miles would be dead."
Molly watched her friend work herself up again. "I'm tired. Honestly, seeing how committed he is to Sibyl... I found it kind of moving."
"Moving? What about you? You were so young when you—can you really just walk away?"
Molly's lashes trembled. "The only one I can't walk away from is his mother."
That made Kirsten laugh despite herself. "Maybe the divorce is for the best. Harbor City's full of men better than Miles. Come out with me tonight—I'll find you a few."
"Deal." Molly didn't hesitate. "But they have to be good-looking."
She'd barely finished speaking when her phone rang. Mrs. Vance, asking her to come to the old estate for dinner and discuss how to divide the assets.
Molly picked up some pastries Mrs. Vance liked on the way over.
In the living room, both of Miles's parents were waiting, along with a lawyer.
"Molly dear, go drag that idiot son of mine down here," Mrs. Vance said.
Molly climbed the stairs and knocked on Miles's door. She waited. No answer.
She stepped inside. The room was empty. She was heading toward the study when a sound behind her made her turn.
Miles had just walked out of the bathroom—
Water still dripping from his body, his usually immaculate hair falling damp across his forehead. Droplets traced a path down from his hairline, sliding over his shoulders, trailing along the defined lines of his chest and abdomen before disappearing beneath the towel wrapped low around his hips...
