She applied to the police academy and became a criminal investigator.
Back then, holding her acceptance letter, she proudly said to me,
“Samuel, I like you.”
“I’ll love you with my life and protect you.”
“I’ll give you everything you want.”
Grace kept her promise.
During the years we were together, she never stopped proving it.
I liked stargazing, so she built me an observatory.
I wanted ice cream, and she ran ten blocks to buy it.
In the Whitman family, as long as Grace was there,
I could have almost anything I wanted.
Even if I asked for the moon, she would find a way to get it for me.
We were young then, believing love could overcome anything.
But fate is never that kind.
One person—Zachary—was enough to tear us apart.
Zachary was the son of our nanny, Mary Willis.
He came to help at Whitman's house during his vacation.
He would deliberately break my things, then pretend it was an accident.
He even burned my clothes on purpose and claimed it was a mistake.
Whenever I got angry, he ran to Grace in tears, telling her how miserable his life was.
The one who cries always gets sympathy.
A man who sheds tears seems especially pitiful.
Bit by bit, Grace’s heart leaned toward him.
What truly pushed me over the edge was the night before our engagement.
Grace said she had a surprise for me.
I sneaked home out of curiosity,
only to see Zachary, looking disheveled, walking out of her room.
When he saw me, he didn’t explain.
Instead, he angrily threw my mother’s belongings onto the floor.
“Samuel, stop acting superior in front of me. Everyone knows you’re just living off the Whitman family.”
“As for who will become the future master of the Whitman family, that’s still uncertain!”
I was furious and yelled at him to get out.
But he ran crying to Grace.
He accused me of always bullying him and Mary,
and even said I wanted to destroy their entire family.
Grace, who had once sworn to always stand by my side,
believed him without hesitation.
She stood in front of Zachary, glaring at me.
“Samuel, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Zachary already has it hard enough. Can’t you show some compassion?”
“Don’t forget, we’re not married yet.”
“You have no right to use the Whitman family’s influence to bully others!”
We had a fierce argument, hurling painful words at each other.
Unable to win, I broke up with her in a fit of anger.
Grace threatened me too, saying that if I left, I should never come back.
I threw away all the gifts she had given me.
I moved alone to a villa in the suburbs of my hometown.
Grace blocked my number and refused all contact.
We were young and hot-headed, neither willing to give in first.
The standoff dragged on for a long time.
The truth was, I never truly wanted to break up with her.
I just wanted her to comfort me, to apologize.
Grace is blunt and speaks without thinking.
I knew she didn’t mean to hurt me.
But I couldn’t swallow my pride.
Deep down, I made a promise to myself.
As long as she apologized.
As long as she admitted, she was wrong.
I would forgive everything and prepare for our wedding with her.
I would never make her angry again.
But I waited and waited, and hoped and hoped.
