Chapter 3

I instinctively tried to close the door, not wanting to get entangled with him.

Ethan blocked the door first, frowning as he looked at me:

"You're avoiding me? Why?"

He leaned in closer, scrutinizing me:

"Are you angry? Because of Chloe?"

I quickly shook my head and explained:

"I'm not angry. I'm happy for you, Dad."

His eyes held an unreadable emotion, as if he was dissatisfied with my answer.

"Is that the truth? Are you sure you're not just saying that out of spite?"

Then he sneered:

"Lydia, you haven't gotten over me, have you? On your eighteenth birthday, you snuck a kiss while I was sleeping. You think I didn't know?

"I've read all those private diaries you've been secretly keeping over the years. You think you hide it well, but the love in your eyes is so obvious. Who in Shadowfang pack can't see that you're in love with me?

"Not confessing your feelings to me was the smartest decision of your life, because I would have laughed at you! Laughed at you—a human—for being so delusional."

He laughed to himself, then walked around me to my desk and yanked open the bottom drawer.

Ethan grabbed a box from inside.

It was full of photos I'd secretly taken of him.

Ethan scattered the contents all over the floor, then stepped on them:

"Lydia, I've raised you since you were eight years old. I've taken care of you all this time, but you, at such a young age, developed inappropriate feelings for your guardian! You even secretly collected these things. Do you know how disgusting that makes me feel?"

Then he leaned close to my ear and said softly:

"I came here to tell you—I know you wanted to use yourself to calm me yesterday! But fortunately you didn't go through with it, or I would have been disgusted for the rest of my life!"

My heart suddenly clenched, aching sharply.

Even though I'd decided not to love him anymore in this life, hearing these hurtful words still caused pain.

After speaking, Ethan warned me several more times to keep my distance so Chloe wouldn't misunderstand, then stormed out, slamming the door.

I didn't want to be an eyesore around them, and I needed to handle my paperwork for going abroad anyway, so I packed up and left the house.

That evening, I deliberately waited until almost ten o'clock before returning.

As soon as I entered my room, I noticed something was wrong—someone had gone through my closet.

Then I saw Chloe had posted on her social media, showing off a full-length photo of herself in a luxurious gown.

The caption read: "I only mentioned needing a dress, and he immediately gave me this one."

She'd taken the custom dress Ethan had made for me.

That dress had been specially designed by a master for my coming-of-age ceremony. It was worth seventy million dollars.

He'd told me the dress was one of a kind in the world.

Just like I was one of a kind to him.

He knew exactly what treating a young woman he'd raised himself that way would mean.

He'd encouraged my feelings, letting me fall in love with him.

Yet he stood on moral high ground, saying I shouldn't have violated ethics by falling in love with my guardian.

Now, with just one casual comment from Chloe, Ethan had the dress sent to her without even telling me first.

Ethan heard me return and stood at my door, saying lightly:

"Chloe needs a nice dress for the upcoming gala, so I gave her yours. You don't have any occasions that require it lately anyway."

I didn't even look up, just hummed in acknowledgment.

Ethan frowned, staring at me intently:

"Lydia, you're suddenly so agreeable that I'm not used to it. What's gotten into you these past two days? You're not planning something, are you? I'm warning you, if you dare provoke Chloe, I won't indulge you like I used to!"

Only then did I look up and reply softly:

"I don't want to provoke anyone. In fact, I hope no one provokes me either. Besides, Dad, haven't you always wanted me to be more sensible? You should be happy with how I am now."

Ethan pressed his lips together and said almost petulantly: "Fine, fine, fine! Lydia, you're doing great!"

He slammed the door and went downstairs. Whenever he said that, it meant he was angry.

And I would always try every means to placate him.

I'd prepare all his favorite foods or carefully make handmade gifts for him.

But I didn't want to placate him anymore.

For me, I'd decided to stop loving him. Whether he was angry or not no longer mattered.

Besides, I would be leaving soon.