Chapter 4

Years of trust shattered overnight. It hurt, but I knew clinging to illusions would only worsen it. Facing the truth and letting go was the only real choice.

Frustrated by my silent treatment, Ashton slammed the door and left the house, his face dark with anger. I didn’t care. I focused on work.

A few years ago, my father was diagnosed with leukemia. His health rapidly declined, and so did the company’s finances.

“The company’s cash flow has dried up,” he confessed. “It’s on the verge of collapse.”

At that moment, I realized how trivial grudges and betrayals seemed in the face of life and death. Despite his faults, my father had raised me for eighteen years.

I took over the failing company, juggling work demands and his hospital care. It was exhausting.

On the other hand, Macy left the country and never came back to check on him—or anyone else.

One morning, I dressed quickly to avoid running into Ashton, but luck wasn’t on my side.

Stepping out of the bedroom, I saw him standing in the kitchen, smiling as if nothing had happened the night before.

He gestured toward the table. “Come have breakfast.”

His eyes lingered on my arm, and he silently handed me a custom-made long-sleeve shirt.

He had ordered so many of these over the past five years, all to hide the scar on my left arm.

It was from a fire during a trip overseas. A restaurant caught fire, and Ashton fainted from smoke inhalation.

I had already escaped, but I went back to save him. A burst light fixture exploded, leaving my arm with a severe burn.