Julian had been feeling unsettled lately.

Perhaps because Aurora... was being too understanding.


Before, she would bubble with excitement about anniversary plans weeks in advance. But tomorrow was their seventh, and if he hadn't mentioned it in the car, she seemed to have completely forgotten.

An inexplicable sense of losing control crawled up his spine like ants.

He immediately texted Aurora: [Wrapping up work now.]


[Be good. See you at Alinea at 7:30.]

Just then, a sweet, cloying voice called: "Julian."


He looked up irritably to find Sienna—and beside her, his primary investor, Mr. Vance.

Mr. Vance took on a fatherly tone: "Julian, this has dragged on for a year. It's time to set a wedding date for you and Sienna."

Sienna nodded shyly on cue.

"Sure." Julian's lips curled into a cruel smile, his eyes cold. "I was planning to discuss this with Mr. Vance tomorrow anyway."

Mr. Vance opened his mouth.

The smile froze on Sienna's face at Julian's next words.

"Let's discuss how you used insider information to manipulate stock prices, attempted to dilute my shares, and tried to seize control of my company."

Sienna's face drained of color. She finally understood, her eyes reddening: "...so you've been using me all along?"

"Being nice to me was all fake? Just to gain my trust and access my father's contacts?"

Julian, now fully in control of his company, didn't waste emotion on her. His voice was utterly flat: "What else did you expect?"

Sienna stared as if seeing him for the first time. Tears streamed down her face as she laughed—a hollow, manic sound.

"So Aurora is your only weakness after all."

She knew to destroy this man, she'd need to take away the only thing he truly cared about.

She looked at Julian, her blood boiling, her voice sharp and bitter:

"Aurora accepted the transfer to Paris. Her flight leaves tomorrow!"

Julian's pupils constricted visibly.

"By the way," she watched with satisfaction as Julian's hand froze on the door handle, each word dripping with venom, "I kissed you last night, and she saw everything. You should have seen her face... such a pity."

Julian raced back to their penthouse.

The entire drive, Aurora didn't answer his calls.

He burst through the door. Everything looked untouched since morning. Aurora's favorite cushion still lay askew on the sofa. Her clothes still hung neatly in the closet.

Julian's racing heart began to slow.

Then he spotted something on the bedside table.

Their Cartier LOVE rings.

Beneath them, a note:

"I am free now."

The mechanical voice of unanswered calls played in his ear like poisoned arrows striking his heart with deadly precision.

Just then, his phone rang.

Julian—who had remained stone-faced even when signing his parents' death certificates—found his hands trembling.

"Hello." He grabbed it like a lifeline. "Aurora?"

A polite, formal voice answered: "Mr. Croft, this is Alinea Restaurant. It's now 7:31, and neither you nor your girlfriend has arrived. Would you like to postpone your proposal arrangement?"

His heart plummeted off a cliff, shattering into pieces.

But Julian didn't have time to feel the pain.

For twenty-nine days, he worked relentlessly, fending off Vance Group's desperate counterattacks, securing the empire he'd reclaimed.

Finally, he flew to Paris.

He tried to ignore memories of Aurora's unusual calmness. He reassured himself: once he found her, comforted her, she would return to him.

But on those foreign streets, along the Seine, he saw from a distance.

His Aurora.

"Kissing" another man.