At that time, Adrian’s father had wanted Clara to marry Jonathan. But when Adrian heard the news, he stood in the storming rain, refusing to move until he was granted a chance. From her window, Clara had seen his trembling body—stubborn, upright, unyielding. Her heart had ached beyond measure.
In the end, her father relented, and they began their journey from nothing.
When the company’s capital chain collapsed and salaries went unpaid, Adrian secretly humbled himself before an old rival, drinking until his stomach bled to secure money for her. In the hospital, pale and weak, he still wiped away her tears and whispered, “Clara, don’t cry. For you, this is all worth it. I, Adrian, will never let you down in this life.”
In their cramped rental, they shared one bowl of instant noodles, and he always dropped the ham and egg into her side of the bowl. In winter, he warmed her feet with his body heat; in summer, he fanned her to sleep, sweat soaking his shirt.
He had once signed a contract declaring he’d walk away with nothing if he betrayed her. Holding her hand, he’d said with absolute certainty, “Sign this, and you’ll be mine forever. Everything I am—Adrian—is yours.”
Those memories had been real, burning, unforgettable.
Could they really be erased by Vanessa’s sudden appearance? Had all the tenderness she once received been nothing but lies?
Her heart quaked with pain and disbelief, hatred colliding with a love carved deep into her very bones.
Lawyer Bennett, watching her silence, spoke gently: “Ms. Clara, both parties may have signed, but legally you have a seven-day cooling-off period. During this time, the agreement is not yet in effect. I advise you—reconsider. Not for him, but for yourself. To ensure you’ll never regret it.”
She shut her eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks, chilled instantly by the night wind. Regret? She was already suffocating on it. But Lawyer Bennett was right—decisions made in despair were rarely steady.
Breathing shakily, she murmured, “Okay. Follow the rules. Wait seven days.”
When she hung up, she stood alone in the rush of the city, surrounded by countless people, and yet she felt colder, lonelier, than ever before.
By the time she trudged home that evening, the sky was black. Exhaustion weighed down every step.
She pressed her fingerprint to the lock—and froze. Strangers’ high heels littered the entryway. Adrian’s leather shoes were tossed aside carelessly.
Her chest tightened with dread.
Rushing into the living room, she was struck by a jarring scene. Deafening electronic music pounded through the space—so different from the quiet classical she loved.
On the sofa, Adrian reclined casually. Vanessa sprawled in his arms, pink hair flashing beneath the lights, a wine glass swinging from her hand. She laughed loudly, her body pressed against him.
And there—on the spiral staircase—Snowball, Clara’s beloved ragdoll cat, dangled in terror, its neck bound with a rope.
Her blood turned to ice.
