“You’ve always wanted to take over the Dinklage Group, haven’t you? I currently hold fifty-two percent of its shares. Give me a reasonable price, and I’ll sell everything I have to you.”
The man on the other end paused for a moment, then let out a teasing laugh. “If you hand me all of Dinklage Group’s shares, I’m never letting Hervey off the hook.”
Hervey and Hamish had been at odds for years—neck-and-neck rivals who could never stand the sight of each other.
If she handed those shares to Hamish, Hervey would never recover.
Thinking about all the times he’d lied to her and hurt her, Christina’s voice sharpened with resolve. “I don’t care. Even if you buy the company just to tear it down and turn it into a pig farm, it’s fine with me.”
Hamish chuckled. “Christina, now I’m curious. What did Hervey do to you to make you this ruthless?”
“Hey, you’re asking too many questions. Just tell me—do you want the shares or not?”
“I want them. An opportunity like this? I’d be crazy to pass it up.”
“Send me an account number. I’ll sell the shares to you at market price.”
“Alright.”
Once the deal was settled, Christina sent him her card details.
Over the next few days, Hervey used “letting her rest” as an excuse not to come home. He didn’t return for an entire week.
But Keala’s Instagram never stopped updating.
Day one: Hervey spent a fortune at an auction to buy her a pink diamond.
Day two: He spent ten million on a city-wide fireworks display just for her.
Day three…
Day four…
In just one week, he did more for Keala than he ever did for Christina in three years.
Whenever she asked him to do anything with her, he only ever said one thing—busy.
Now, she finally understood. It wasn’t that he was too busy. He simply didn’t want to. He simply didn’t like her.
Christina opened a box and pulled out the childhood love letters Hervey had written to her. Their families had arranged their engagement when they were kids, so he had written her one letter every month, telling her she could read them when they grew up.
For the past three years, whenever heartbreak overwhelmed her, she opened one… and burned one.
Only one letter remained.
She unfolded it. It was his childish handwriting.
[Christina, twenty years from now, we should already be married, right? We should have a child by then too. You must have become the happiest wife and mother in the world. I’ll do everything I can to make money and give you and our child the best life.
[Christina, you are the woman I will love the most in this lifetime.]
His childhood love had been real.
And now, his betrayal was just as real.
Her parents and her husband had both fallen in love with someone else long before they ever reached her side.
Christina didn’t cry. She was just too tired to feel the pain anymore.
Promises were fake. His new love was real. So was every wound he left on her.
She burned the last remaining letter until it turned to ash.
There were four days left. When the fourth day arrived, she would take the money and her baby, and leave this suffocating place for good.
But that night, Hervey came home, reeking of alcohol.
The moment he stepped into the room, he wrapped her tightly in his arms, muttering complaints.
“Why weren’t you angry that I didn’t come home for so many days?”
“Christina… do you not love me anymore?”
Looking at his childish, drunken expression, Christina suddenly laughed.
If she got angry, he called her unreasonable.
If she didn’t get angry, he accused her of not caring.
‘Hervey… What exactly do you want from me?’
She stayed silent and tried to guide him toward the guest room.
But he refused to move. Instead, he pinned her wrists against the wall.
“Babe… you haven’t given yourself to me in a long time…”
Babe. For years, she thought it was his endearment for her.
But now…
Even though she’d already heard the truth, she still couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Who are you calling?”
He answered instantly—without hesitation.
“Keala.”
Her smile broke, and tears slipped out. Without caring about his reaction, she shoved him out of the room and slammed the door in his face.
She told herself she would never soften again.
She would never live as anyone’s substitute.
The next morning, Hervey woke up freezing on the floor outside the door. The sight of him sleeping there overnight should’ve stirred guilt, but instead, her bitterness evaporated, replaced by anger.
He barged into the room to demand an explanation, but stopped short when he saw her marking dates on the calendar.
The date three days later was circled in bright red.
Suddenly, a heavy, uneasy feeling pressed down on his chest.
“What does that red circle three days from now mean?”
