Chapter 4

Gabriel's voice carried a tremor as he looked at Elena in disbelief. "Elena, I gave you that sketchbook. Those are our memories. Why are you burning them?"

It felt as though something was slipping out of his control, causing a sudden, inexplicable panic in his chest.

Elena watched the leather-bound sketchbook curl, blacken, and finally turn to ash. Then, she slowly turned her head, meeting his gaze with a calmness that was palpitating.

In that instant, Gabriel felt as if the woman before him was slipping through his fingers like elusive sand.

Elena took a deep breath. As those gifts turned to ash, a certain obsession deep within her dissipated with them. She no longer cared who her parents favored, nor did she care who Gabriel truly wanted to protect.

None of it mattered anymore. She had made up her mind to walk her own path, heading to the Nordic polar region where they did not exist.

"The basement is too damp. They got moldy, so I burned them," she said, her tone as flat as if she were discussing the weather.

Elena had an impulse to tell Gabriel she didn't love him anymore, but with only twenty days left until her departure, she decided to hold back.

Gabriel seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and nodded. "It's fine that you burned them. They were old styles from years ago anyway. Once we get our marriage license at City Hall, I'll take you to Fifth Avenue to buy new ones."

Elena smiled faintly.

There would be no marriage license, and no future.

Gabriel comforted himself. Other than him, Elena had no one to rely on. She couldn't possibly leave. His worry just now must have been superfluous.

His attitude reverted to that lofty arrogance. He frowned, speaking with displeasure, "Don't walk around with that cold face all day. Mia lost her father and has severe anxiety. She can't handle stimulation. You have a healthy body and talent; there is no need to compete with her."

Elena let out a bitter laugh, her tone laced with irony. "Is that so? Then tell me, what do I have?"

Parents' love? A fiancé's care? She didn't even have a decent room, living in a basement like a rat.

Mia had taken everything that belonged to her. What else was she supposed to give up?

Gabriel grew impatient with Elena's complaints. "Don't you have parents? And me, don't you? Mia is suffering in the hospital. Go and apologize to her."

Elena thought she had misheard.

Mia's so-called anxiety was obviously feigned, an act to garner sympathy, yet everyone pretended not to see it.

Elena's voice was cold. "She has my parents accompanying her, your care, and the best private doctors. Do you really think she needs me?"

Gabriel got angry. "How can you have no compassion? Mia's episode is your fault. No matter what, as a cousin, you should be more understanding."

He added sternly, "You haven't even realized your mistake. I really have spoiled you, Elena. Don't blame me for not giving you a chance—if you don't go to the hospital, we will postpone the marriage registration."

With that, he stormed off, seemingly convinced that using the marriage as leverage would make Elena yield.

Elena didn't respond, watching the Land Rover leave with an unnaturally calm expression.

She returned to the basement to pack, only to discover that in this brownstone worth millions of dollars, there wasn't a single thing worth taking with her.

That night, when her parents returned home, they made no effort to hide the displeasure on their faces, as if blaming her for upsetting Mia.

Her mother walked up to her, face stern. "Elena, give Gabriel up. Mia likes him too. She's threatening suicide in the hospital. As her cousin, you should be the bigger person."

Although Elena had long known her mother was biased toward Mia to the extreme, she was still shocked by these shameless words.

Her words were like a cold wind piercing through heavy walls, leaving Elena entirely numb.

She stared at her mother, her voice hoarse. "Mom, I am your biological daughter. You always tell me to yield to Mia. Have I not yielded enough?"

"Every new thing in this house, the main course at dinner, Christmas gifts, even my original bedroom—I gave them all to her. I gave up a top firm internship for her. Now, I have to give up my fiancé too? If she wants my life, should I rip my heart out and give it to her as well?"

"Mom, am I actually your daughter?"

Elena could no longer suppress the rage in her heart; her question struck at the soul.

Her mother slapped her across the face, her expression full of disappointment. "She is your cousin! Because of you, she lost her father. Isn't what you have enough?"

"Your dad is right—you are an ungrateful, cold-blooded animal. This time, whether you want to or not, you must yield. Otherwise, you are no daughter of mine."

She dropped these cruel words and turned to leave, her high heels tapping out a cold rhythm on the marble floor.

Elena leaned against the doorframe, the dim light overhead like a mocking eye, treating her as the world's biggest joke.

In their eyes, she was clearly so "lucky" because she was still alive.

Not long after, Gabriel returned to the yard. He got straight to the point. "Elena, Mia's mental state is very poor. We need to postpone the registration."

It wasn't a discussion. It was an order.

Fortunately, accumulated disappointment had long since numbed her to sadness.

Elena forced a faint smile onto her pale face, and with utmost seriousness, replied syllable by syllable:

"Good."