Chapter 1

After four years of financially supporting the impoverished campus heartthrob Cyril Decker, Trisha Newton had spoiled him to the point where even a strand of his hair was treated like gold.

She pulled strings nationwide to find a kidney donor, snatching Cyril's mother, Melanie Moore, back from death's grip.

She arranged for Cyril's sister, Constance Decker, to attend an elite school in Aldenport, grooming her into a socialite.

She poured endless funds into his startup ventures, elevating him into a rising star in the business world.

Yet just before their wedding, Trisha accidentally witnessed his childhood friend, Anna Higgins, clinging to him in tearful desperation.

"Cyril, I know you don't love Trisha at all. I also know you've always had feelings for me. We were so close back then, just one step away from being a couple. But because Mrs. Decker fell ill and Constance couldn't afford school, you had no choice but to agree to be Trisha's boyfriend.

"She's forced you into this for so many years. Now that you've made it and your life's different, why keep forcing yourself to marry her? I can't accept you marrying her. If you really go through with the wedding, I'll jump off this building right now!"

Just one glance down from the 30th floor was enough to terrify Melanie and Constance. Both of them immediately began pleading with Cyril to reconsider.

"Cyril, I watched Anna grow up. I've always treated her like my future daughter-in-law. You can't let her down!"

"Cyril, can't you just break up with Trisha? Anna loves you so much. I want her to be my sister-in-law."

"Say something, Cyril. You clearly have the power to escape Trisha now, so why won't you break up with her? Why marry her? Have you fallen for her? If you have, I'll kill myself!"

Amid the chaos, Cryl remained silent.

When no response came, Anna spiraled out of control. She climbed onto the ledge, ready to jump.

Only then did Cyril abruptly grab her hand and speak, his voice low. "Fine, I won't marry Trisha."

Anna lit up with joy instantly. "I knew you still had me in your heart. I want you to stand her up at the wedding, so that she would be humiliated in front of everyone. Take it as revenge for all the years she's forced you to be with her."

The moment those words left her mouth, everyone's expressions changed slightly.

When Cyril didn't respond right away, Anna's eyes reddened again. "Cyril, you hate her too, don't you? I just want you to promise me this one thing. If you agree, I won't do anything reckless again."

Melanie and Constance, having recovered from the shock, joined in to persuade him as well. Their words all implied one thing—running from the wedding was a good idea. It would certainly teach Trisha a lesson.

Cyril, frowning deeply, seemed lost in thought before finally relenting.

Melanie and Constance immediately beamed with delight. Anna also sighed in relief, smiling through her tears as she threw herself into his arms.

"Then it's settled. I can't wait to see Trisha's face when she's devastated," Anna said.

Trisha had witnessed everything that had just unfolded. She didn't expose them. Instead, she calmly turned and went downstairs.

Back in the car, she sat in the back seat for a long time before calling her mother, Naomi Hartman.

"Mom, you were right. No matter how much Cyril looks like Ethan, he's not him. I'm not getting married anymore."

"Ethan's been gone for so many years, and you've been chasing after his substitutes ever since. Keeping Cyril around as a reminder of Ethan is one thing, but actually marrying him is unnecessary," Naomi said.

Trisha's gaze grew distant at Naomi's sigh, as if looking through the car window into a faraway past.

Trisha had known Ethan Chaney since she could remember. He lived next door and was two years older. They were childhood sweethearts, inseparable from the time they were kids through their teenage years.

She had always been rebellious—a little troublemaker everyone dreaded. Ethan, on the other hand, was the well-mannered young gentleman adored by all.

No matter what trouble Trisha got into, Ethan would always shield her from the consequences and clean up after her without hesitation. And in return, she poured the most passionate, unreserved love of her life into him, vowing to marry no one else but him.

On Ethan's 22nd birthday, they made plans to register their marriage at the city hall.

Trisha waited there from morning till night, but he never came. What came instead was the devastating news that Ethan had died in a car accident on his way there.

From that day on, her world fell into darkness.

Unable to accept reality, she frantically searched for traces of him everywhere—a side profile that resembled his, a pair of clear eyes, a gentle voice.

She met countless people. As long as someone bore a slight resemblance to Ethan, she couldn't help but be drawn to them.

Until four years ago, when she met Cyril working part-time at a bar. The moment she saw the young man who looked 90% like Ethan in both build and face, Trisha decided to keep him by her side.

She looked into his background, then used money and resources to make him her boyfriend. After that, she stopped looking for other substitutes.

Everyone thought she had finally settled down because she had genuinely fallen for Cyril. But only she knew the truth—she was mourning Ethan through Cyril's looks. She was sinking deeper and deeper into a fantasy she had created, almost mistaking it for reality.

It wasn't until she saw that farce unfold just now that she finally snapped out of it.

A substitute would always be a substitute.

"Mom, I'll go to Elarin in a few days and stay with you for good," Trisha said hoarsely.

And then, she would spend the rest of her life remembering Ethan.

After hanging up, she returned alone to their marital home, where the designer had been waiting for hours with over a hundred wedding dresses.

She had lost all interest in those elaborate white gowns and waved a hand dismissively.

"No need to choose. I'm not getting married anymore."

The next second, Cyril pushed the door open with a clear and cold gaze.

"What do you mean you're not getting married anymore?" he demanded.

Chapter 2

Trisha hadn't expected Cyril to return so soon.

But in this relationship, she had always been the one in control. So, she didn't bother hiding anything and calmly said, "We're not getting married anymore. What about it?"

Upon seeing the indifferent expression on her face, Cyril thought she was just throwing one of her usual tantrums. Thus, he didn't take her seriously.

He took off his coat and said coldly, "You were the one who insisted on getting married, and now you're calling it off? What's your problem this time?"

He glanced around at the people waiting stiffly in the room and randomly pointed. "We'll take that one."

Trisha turned to where he pointed and saw the gown he had picked. It just so happened to be the one she liked best from a video she had seen a few days ago.

Though surprised, she didn't think too much of it. She simply looked at him and asked, "What did you do today?"

Cyril lied without batting an eye, "I was busy with work. Don't worry. I haven't forgotten my promise of doing it once a day."

As he spoke, he bent down and scooped her up, intending to carry her back to the bedroom.

But Trisha, unusually, pushed him away. "Let's put a pause on it for a while. You can sleep in the guest room tonight."

Cyril paused, and disbelief flickered in his eyes as if he was really seeing her for the first time.

"You were always the one begging for it before."

Trisha smiled self-deprecatingly. "Didn't you always say you can't force something that isn't meant to be?"

Cyril's gaze darkened slightly. After a moment, he set her down. "Suit yourself."

With that, he went upstairs without looking back and shut himself in the guest room.

The next morning, Trisha woke up early.

A household staff brought her coffee and casually reported on Cyril's whereabouts.

"Mr. Decker went out early for a workout. Do you want to wait for him for breakfast?"

Trisha shook her head. "I'm heading out later. No need to wait for him."

After breakfast, Trisha drove off to finalize her permanent residency paperwork, then stopped at an open-air café with a scenic view to relax.

She scrolled through her phone for a while, and when she looked up again, she saw Cyril.

He was being pulled into a café downstairs by Anna. After ordering two drinks, he specifically requested that one be served hot.

Anna whined and said she wanted hers cold, but he simply stroked her hair with a helpless smile. "No, you're on your period, so only hot drinks for you."

Of course, he would remember something like that since they were childhood sweethearts.

Trisha stared at them without blinking.

When Anna's shoelaces came undone, Cyril kneeled to tie them for her.

When she wanted a sip of his drink, he handed it over without hesitation.

When she squealed over a dress in the display window, he took her inside to try it on.

While watching them stroll around like a young couple on a date, Trisha felt like she was finally seeing the real Cyril for the first time.

So this was what he was like when he loved someone. He wasn't always cold and distant—he would smile, joke, and look at her fondly even when she was being silly.

He didn't keep his distance or act indifferent. He remembered her preferences and even helped her match clothes when shopping.

He never said anything to kill the mood. No matter what random topic she brought up, he could always pick up the thread and keep the conversation going.

In front of Anna, he shed that carefully constructed cold exterior and became himself again—the version that was full of energy and capable of loving someone deeply.

And that was someone Trisha had never seen when they were together.

She finally understood that between love and its absence, there was an insurmountable divide. And no amount of money could ever bridge that gap.

Chapter 3

After watching the two of them enter a cake shop, Trisha got up and left. She headed to the mall to do some shopping.

She had just set her sights on a dress and was about to swipe her card when a familiar voice sounded behind her.

"I want that dress. Wrap it up for me."

Trisha turned around and found herself face-to-face with Anna, who was gazing at her tauntingly.

She had always known Anna was no pushover, so she replied coolly, "I saw this dress first. Besides, it's quite expensive, so why don't you pick something else?"

The sales assistant, sizing up Anna's outfit, caught on quickly and added, "I'm sorry, ma'am. But the clothing here may be a bit beyond your price range. If you're interested, there's a department store downstairs you might want to check out."

In an instant, all eyes in the store turned their way.

Anna's face flushed crimson with embarrassment, and her eyes burned with fury.

"Are you looking down on me? Well, I like this dress only, and I'm paying for it now!"

As she spoke, she pulled out the Black Card Cyril had given her and flung it at the sales assistant.

Trisha glanced at the card, then at the stunned onlookers, before calmly handing over her own card.

Caught between a wealthy new customer and the original buyer, the sales assistant stood frozen in an awkward state of indecision. Just when she was at a complete loss, Cyril's voice cut through the air.

"What's going on?"

Anna rushed to him pitifully, playing the victim first.

"Cyril, today's my birthday, and I just wanted to buy myself a dress as a gift. But Ms. Newton happened to pick the same one. I tried to pay first, but she wouldn't let me and even said I couldn't afford it."

Cyril's expression turned icy. He glanced at the dress and said flatly, "Trisha, you have plenty of clothes at home. There's no need to fight over this one with Anna. Besides, it suits her better."

Then, he turned to Anna and said, "One dress isn't enough. Pick out a few more—I'll pay for it all."

Upon hearing this, Anna beamed happily, basking in her triumph. She no longer fixated on the first dress and instead grabbed dozens of other styles.

The store erupted in envious murmurs.

"Wow, talk about spoiling someone rotten. When will I ever meet a man like that?"

"Look at that other woman—she's been browsing for ages without buying anything. Are those designer clothes even real? She's probably just pretending to be a socialite!"

Trisha heard it all, but she didn't bother to defend herself. She turned to push open the door and leave, just as the mall's alarm suddenly blared.

A panicked crowd surged down from the upper floors, screaming about a fire and scattering in all directions.

The store descended into chaos.

Trisha was knocked to the ground in the stampede. Foot after foot trampled over her, leaving dark bruises and torn skin in their wake. Tears of pain streamed down her face as she tried to shield her head.

When she looked up, she saw Cyril holding Anna tightly, shielding her as they pushed toward a safer area. Driven by survival instinct, Trisha screamed his name over and over again at the top of her lungs.

He turned at the sound, his pupils contracting when he saw her battered and trampled on the floor. Just as he seemed about to rush toward her, Anna yanked him back.

Whatever she said made him hesitate. Then, he turned away and continued shielding Anna as they left together.

Trisha could only helplessly watch as they vanished into the crowd, the last shred of hope in her heart sinking into oblivion.

In the tight, suffocating space, even the air felt toxic. Trampled and bleeding, she could only grit her teeth against the pain and drag herself slowly toward the corner. She then braced her bloodied hands against the wall for support and finally managed to stand.

The surging crowd shoved her relentlessly toward the mall's exit, draining the last of her strength. Only after being pushed out onto the plaza and confirmed to be safe did her legs give out. She collapsed to the ground, gasping for air in ragged gulps.

Not far off, a familiar, urgent voice pierced through the noise. "Anna, wait here. Don't wander off. I'm going back in."

After settling Anna, Cyril turned, only to see the battered and bruised Trisha lying on the ground.

Their eyes met again. But this time, there was no emotion left in hers—only the still, lifeless calm of someone who had stopped expecting anything at all.

Chapter 4

On the way home, Cyril and Trisha sat in silence.

After a long pause, Cyril finally explained in a hoarse voice, "Today is Anna's birthday. When she was little, she was caught in a stampede at school. It left her with deep psychological trauma. I didn't mean to leave you behind. I was going to get her to safety first, then come back for you."

After four years together, Trisha had grown used to his cold remarks and constant needling, so hearing him awkwardly trying to explain himself now felt almost foreign. And as for why he ignored her plea for help, it was simple—to him, Anna had always mattered more.

She understood that. Besides, she was leaving soon, and none of this would matter anymore.

She gave a small nod. "Got it. No need to explain so much. Otherwise, I might actually start thinking you've really fallen for me."

Cyril's expression darkened instantly, and his tone snapped back to that familiar iciness. "I just felt I failed in my duty as your fiancé. It has nothing to do with love."

Duty? Trisha exhaled softly.

Very soon, this transaction would come to an end. The duty he carried, the shackles wrapped around her heart—all of it would finally be lifted.

Back home, Cyril brought out the first aid kit and began tending to her wounds.

Perhaps worried about hurting her, his movements were unusually gentle. This unexpected tenderness surprised Trisha.

But before long, his phone rang. When he saw it was Anna calling, he immediately answered and stood up.

"You kept hearing footsteps outside your door? Lock it. Don't worry—I'll have someone look into it," he coaxed.

Trisha caught a glimpse of the caller ID, and her eyelashes fluttered slightly.

When he hung up and didn't leave, instead picking a cotton swab again, she couldn't help but ask, "Your precious Anna is being harassed. Aren't you going to check on her yourself?"

Cyril's hand paused. "Didn't we have an agreement? If we've made plans—whether going out together or staying in—I'm not allowed to leave you behind for someone else."

So that was why he stayed—because of the terms they had agreed on.

Trisha rubbed the bridge of her nose, then waved him off.

"Given how dangerous it sounds, you should go check on her today. Consider this a one-time exception," she said wearily.

In the past, she wouldn't have allowed him to leave even if Anna's house flooded at midnight. Yet now, she was actually letting him go to her?

Cyril was deeply stunned. Something about Trisha felt off, and he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

"Why?" he asked.

"Aren't your mother, your sister, and your precious Anna the three most important people in your life? If anything happened to them, you would never forgive yourself, right? I'm just being nice. It's up to you whether you go or not."

After hearing her languid tone, Cyril froze, and his gaze turned complicated as he looked at her.

Still, he didn't deny it. After quickly composing himself, he grabbed the keys and went out the door.

He didn't come back that night.

Trisha didn't ask where he went. She just treated her wounds and went to bed.

The next day, she packed all her belongings and arranged for them to be shipped to Elarin.

In the process, she came across many of the couple items they had bought during their relationship, the various gifts she had given him, and even the photos she had forced him to take with her.

She threw them all away without a second thought.

On the third day, she met up with a few friends at a bar.

Tipsy and disoriented, she couldn't find their private room. She stumbled up and down the stairs, searching the area several times.

Then, outside a private room on the first floor, she suddenly heard a familiar name.

"Cyril, are you really going to ditch the wedding for Anna? We've all seen how much Trisha cared for you over the years. Are you really seriously going to throw away everything for one person?"

"Trisha's not a bad person, but her spoiled princess attitude is too much. If Cyril really marries her, he'll be pussy-whipped for life. Personally, I say screw the wedding. Give her a little scare—knock her down a peg or two."

"I'm with you. She's so in love with you, it's like it's in her bones. She spends money on you like it's nothing, and even went against her family to propose to you. It's clear she's determined to marry only you.

"Even if you stand her up, she'll come crawling back to apologize. At that point, you can just play along and give her a way out. That way, you won't have to keep treating her like some kind of queen."

Amid the chatter, Cyril sipped his drink in silence.

Because he didn't speak, the others couldn't tell what he was really thinking. They started probing again.

"Come on, Cyril. What are you really thinking? If you're really skipping out on the wedding, we'll bring a video camera to record the chaos."

"Yeah, seriously, say something. Why are you hesitating? Don't tell me you've actually fallen for her. If that's the case, just go through with the wedding."

Through the half-open door, Trisha saw Cyril's frosty expression.

"Fallen for her? How could anyone possibly love someone who forced them into a relationship from the start? All I've ever felt for Trisha is disgust," he coldly said.

Chapter 5

Trisha stood frozen in place after hearing everything Cyril said.

So, every second, every minute, he had felt nothing but disgust toward her.

It didn't matter, for his suffering would soon come to an end.

Trisha silently smiled, then quietly turned and left.

The bar was alive with neon lights and raucous laughter. She ordered and drank a few more glasses until her vision blurred with double images.

In her drunken haze, a man approached with a glass in hand to strike up a conversation.

Perhaps truly drunk, the sight of his eyes—so similar to Ethan's—made her take the drink as if possessed.

When she saw him holding out his glass to her for a clink, the wild streak she had been holding back finally surged to the surface. Without thinking, she hooked her arm around his.

"Let's link arms and drink from each other's glasses. And then you'll tell me your name, okay?" she teased.

"We can drink, but let's skip the name part. What do you say?"

Lost in those familiar eyes, she mumbled drunkenly, "You won't tell me your name? You're Ethan, right?"

She blinked hard a few times, trying to see his face more clearly.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw Cyril charging toward them like a madman. He swung his fist and landed it squarely on the man's face.

The two tumbled into a brawl, shattering bottles and glasses, one of which cut Trisha's hand. The pain snapped her out of her haze for a moment.

She staggered forward and grabbed Cyril to stop him from beating the pain.

"I want the one who talked to him first. Why are you hitting him?" she demanded.

The blood coursing through Cyril's body seemed to freeze. His gaze sharpened as he turned to look at her.

For some reason, Trisha felt guilty under his gaze. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind and find a few reasonable excuses.

"Don't you think his eyes look like y'all's? You don't like me anyway, so how about this? I'll stop bothering you, and I'll find a new sugar baby. What do you say?"

With each word, Cyril's expression grew darker. He couldn't hold back any longer—he grabbed her and dragged her out of the car.

"Are you bored with me now? You've had your fun, and now you want to discard me? Well, let me tell you, Trisha Newton—I won't allow it!"

Trisha waved her hand and replied in her usual languid tone, "Didn't we agree that we're only doing this for mutual benefits? So, how can you say I'm discarding you? If I can have you as my sugar baby, why can't I get someone else to do the same?"

The words detonated Cyril's rage. He pressed her violently against his chest and said through gritted teeth, "Don't you dare!"

Trisha frowned, irritation flashing in her eyes. "Why wouldn't I? You were just Ethan's—"

"Cyril, I just went to the restroom. Why are you out here?"

Anna's sudden appearance shattered Trisha's train of thought.

Cyril, too, gradually calmed down. He forced down the inner turmoil raging in his chest and helped Trisha to her feet.

"She's drunk. I'm taking her home. Since you're out as well, just get in the car," he said, his tone already back to its usual calmness.

With that, he tossed her the car keys and helped Trisha into the backseat.

As Anna drove, her eyes kept flicking to the rearview mirror.

"Why was she at the bar?"

"No idea."

A devilish glint appeared in Anna's eyes as she heard his icy tone.

"I heard she dated tons of guys before she met you. In fact, she's a regular at bars. Cyril, you're so lucky you're not marrying a woman like that. Who knows, she might go back to her old ways after marriage."

Cyril's temper flared up again, and the peace he had just regained slipped away.

"Anna, eyes on the road!" he snapped.

Hurt by his harsh tone, Anna pouted and turned her head.

"You're yelling at me."

As she spoke, she turned the steering wheel, not noticing the sharp curve ahead. The next second, the car slammed straight into the mountainside.