Chapter 5

During my two days of hospitalization, Lucas seemed to revert to the way he was when we first fell in love, spoiling me with endless affection. But this fleeting warmth came to an abrupt halt the day I was discharged.

He left ahead of me, claiming an emergency at the lab, and simply sent a driver to take me home. Not long after, I received a provocative text from Charlotte:

"So sorry, Lucas and I have good news approaching. He's returning to the manor tonight to dine with his family, so I'm afraid he won't have time to pick you up from the hospital."

I ignored the message, returned to the apartment in silence, and began to pack.

On the day of my departure, I rose very early.

Seven hours before my flight, I was pushing my suitcase toward the door when I ran headlong into Lucas, who had just returned.

Seeing the luggage piled in the entryway, a look of panic crossed his face, and a sudden unease rose in his heart.

"What is going on here?"

"Didn't I tell you I was going to Paris for a fashion show? You bought the ticket yourself, did you forget?" My expression was calm, as if this were truly just a simple vacation.

But this explanation failed to convince him. "Isn't it just for a day or two? Do you need to bring so much luggage?"

I pursed my lips. "I'm a girl; bringing a few extra sets of haute couture is for street photography. It looks better."

"But you never liked taking so many photos before, and we've never brought this many things!" Lucas was clearly genuinely panicked now. "No! I want to open the suitcases and check to see if you're telling the truth."

He was about to act when an urgent phone call interrupted him. It was Charlotte.

I couldn't hear what was said on the other end, only watching as Lucas fell silent for a moment. In the end, he decided he had to leave first, though not before instructing me once again.

"Vivian, don't stay out playing too long. Send me your return flight details later, and I'll pick you up."

I did not answer.

Because I knew I would not be coming back.

This time, it was goodbye forever.

Five hours before takeoff, I changed the password on the smart lock.

I changed it from my birthday to Charlotte's. Then, I stuck a sticky note on the door:

"From now on, this is Miss Rothschild's home. It's better to set the password to her birthday."

Three hours before takeoff, I found every photo of Lucas and me in the apartment, one by one, and threw them all into the fireplace.

He had once kissed me under the aurora, whispering over and over that I was his only one;

He had once knelt on one knee in the snow of the Alps, swearing to love me until the end of time;

He had once broken three ribs in a car accident to protect me; he remembered all my cycles; his Instagram had once been plastered with my photos;

We had walked hand in hand through spring, summer, autumn, and winter, year after year.

But in this moment, memories turned to ash, and we were thoroughly finished.

Two hours before takeoff, my phone rang.

I opened it to see a video sent by Charlotte.

The video appeared to be taken at a family dinner party. Lucas's friends, Charlotte's close friends, and both sets of parents were present.

The crowd surrounded Lucas and Charlotte, the sounds of jeering and cheering rising and falling.

"Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!"

"Come on, Lucas, you're getting married in a few days anyway! What's there to be shy about? Don't make Miss Rothschild make the first move!"

Amidst the cheers, Charlotte, face flushed like a peach blossom, closed her eyes and leaned in. The surrounding screams grew louder, urging Lucas to kiss her.

Lucas gazed deeply at the woman before him, then closed his eyes, cupped the back of her head with his hand, and planted a deep, soulful French kiss.

The video looped over and over. When it played for the seventh time, Charlotte's message popped up.

"Vivian, did you see that? I am the universally recognized future mistress of the 'Aurora' family. Your family is so poor; how could Lucas's family possibly accept you? With your background, marrying a homeless man would probably be a better match."

"So what if Lucas loves you? His psychological defenses are collapsing bit by bit. First accompanying me to meet parents, then friends, then cohabitation, and now he has kissed me. How long do you think it will be before we roll into bed together?"

I did not reply to her message. Instead, I quietly printed out every single provocative text she had sent over the past few days, organizing them into a thick stack, and placed them in the empty living room.

One hour before takeoff, I left one final message on top of that stack of printed papers.

"Lucas Vance, happy wedding. We are finished."

Then, dragging my suitcase, I walked out of the apartment building, hailed a taxi, and sped toward the airport.

Lucas Vance, from this day forward, I am returning to my life as the daughter of the Davenport family.

And you? I am utterly done with you!