All the dishes crashed onto me with a clatter. Soup dripped down my dress as I stood against the wall, a complete mess.
Nathan only helped Vivian up. His gaze cut toward me, ice-cold.
"Smear Vivian's reputation again, and forget about any future anniversaries. When that time comes, apologies won't save you."
He took Vivian's hand and strode out.
The private room erupted. Vivian's lackeys started in immediately.
"You still dare to give Mr. Floyd attitude—did you forget how you shamelessly chased after him back then?"
"Better go after him. Otherwise, today's anniversary? He's spending it with Vivian."
A few friends tried to reason with me quietly.
"Alex, don't let pride ruin everything. The Harding–Floyd deal just closed. If he backs out, your father..."
My chest tightened.
If Nathan wanted, he really could force me to kneel and beg Vivian for forgiveness. It wouldn't be the first time.
But this time, I was done swallowing my pride. I wanted to live for myself, just once.
I grabbed the hard liquor from the table, tilted my head back, and drained it. The burn clawed down my throat and into my stomach. My eyes stung.
So this is what they mean when they say alcohol hurts. Just like life.
When I got home, Nathan wasn't there. Vivian had posted on social media—he was with her at the hospital.
His arm was around her shoulders, letting her lean into his chest. His other hand held the IV tube, warming it in his palm.
Vivian curled against him, voice soft and pitiful.
"Mr. Floyd, I made Ms. Harding misunderstand you today. It's all my fault. Hurry home and keep her company, okay? Otherwise she'll make a scene again."
Disgust flickered across Nathan's face.
"Doesn't she just want to chain me to her side? She wants my money, she wants me, and she wants my heart too. Greedy and pathetic."
He took Vivian's hand, voice turning tender. "I only want to be with the person I care about. She can't control that."
Through the screen, I watched Vivian's face flush with shyness. She lifted her chin, straightening slightly. Nathan seized her red lips, and the two of them kissed, deep and lingering.
I turned off my phone. Tears slid past the corners of my eyes.
Nathan and I were never really in love. It was always one-sided—my side.
I'd never dated anyone. Never been cherished.
It started at a banquet when my father slapped me across the face, berating me for "making things difficult" for my stepmother.
Nathan stepped forward. He pulled up the surveillance footage and proved my stepmother had poured the wine on herself. Then he gently pressed an ice pack to my cheek and coaxed me with a small piece of dessert until I smiled again.
I fell for him right there.
That impulse hit—the kind where you want to spend your whole life with someone.
From that day on, my eyes followed Nathan everywhere. I begged my father to take me to every banquet where Nathan might appear. I studied what he liked, memorized his preferences.
On every holiday, I gave gifts tailored to his tastes. I became the companion who came whenever he called, free of charge.
High society has sharp eyes. Everyone saw the love blazing in mine, and they whispered about how shameless I was.
Nathan just listened indifferently, still weaving through crowds, as if none of the gossip had anything to do with him.
Until the car accident.
I threw myself in front of him without thinking. I was unconscious for three months.
When I woke up, he was different. He stewed chicken soup for me himself. He took me to Antarctica to watch the stars. Like real lovers, we watched movies, held hands, wandered the streets at midnight.
He even invested in my father's company, letting him buy into projects worth billions.
One night, as he drove me home, I finally worked up the courage.
"Nathan, I like you."
That day, he pulled me into a jewelry store and picked out the biggest diamond.
