I won't allow him to be born into this kind of disgraceful relationship.
That night, Adrian didn't come back on time.
Not until 2:00 a.m. did he walk into the bedroom, habitually reaching to put an arm around my shoulder.
"Still not asleep?"
I turned sideways to avoid him and got straight to the point. "Adrian, Victoria Simmons is your fiancée, right?"
The air suddenly froze.
"Who told you that?"
He finally spoke, not denying it.
My heart sank completely, and the last bit of hope I had shattered into pieces.
"So it's true."
In an instant I tasted rust in my throat, and the humiliation took shape.
"So you already had an engagement with Victoria, yet you let me be like a clown—still stupidly thinking that between us, at least it was a clean relationship?"
A trace of impatience flashed across Adrian's brow.
"Serena, what's between me and her has nothing to do with you. Everything you have now—isn't it good enough?"
"Nothing to do with me?"
I was so furious I laughed, but my voice was shaking badly. "She's your publicly acknowledged fiancée! Then what am I?"
"Something to pass the time when you're lonely? Or…"
I looked at the million-dollar dress he gave me, thought of that roomful of falling snow and romance, and my heart felt like it was being cut over and over by a dull knife.
"Or a stand-in you use to provoke her?"
"Enough!"
Adrian stepped closer. His tall figure loomed over me, full of oppression. "Serena, I give you money. I've given you a life other people wouldn't dare to imagine. What else are you dissatisfied with?"
His words lashed me until I was torn apart.
Back then I had no way out, kneeling and begging him to save my mom. But that didn't mean he could put me in such a disgraceful situation.
"Yes, I did it for money."
I lifted my chin, not letting the tears fall. "But I didn't sell myself to be the other woman!"
At least, the me from before truly thought Adrian sincerely loved me.
But being used hurt a hundred times more than being forced into being the other woman!
I thought of the first time I met him—on the steps by the back entrance of a mall.
I was crying so hard I couldn't catch my breath, my mind full of that astronomical number the doctor quoted, and my mom's powerless look on the hospital bed.
Then Adrian, passing by, stopped in front of me. "Can crying solve the problem?"
What happened later followed naturally. He gave me money, gave me a status enough to establish myself by his side, took me in and out of all kinds of occasions, never hiding his affection for me.
He remembered that I casually said I liked a certain painter.
Even with a fever close to 104 degrees, he still took a longer route just to bring back that artist's personally signed book for me.
"Am I still not good enough to you?"
Adrian's voice yanked me out of my memories. "Tell me—what else do I need to do?"
I opened my mouth, not knowing what I was saying.
Yes, he treated me well.
So well that it made me forget who I was. So well that it made me give rise to delusions I shouldn't have had.
But of that "good," how much was truly for me, and how much was to torment another woman?
"You treat me very well."
I finally found my voice, raised my hand, and pointed at Adrian. "But your shirt isn't the one from this morning."
Adrian's gaze shifted slightly.
My eyes dropped to the web between his right thumb and index finger—a clear, deep circle of bite marks.
"This wasn't bitten by me, either."
After a long time—maybe only a few seconds.
I said, "Adrian, let's end this."
I wasn't acting out of spite, and even less was I testing him.
I knew very well what kind of status Adrian had—how could such a powerful family allow him to mess around with his own marriage?
