Chapter 2

Natalie's POV

Inside the dining room of the Sterling estate, over a dozen people sat around the long mahogany table.

Julian's younger brother, Leo, sat across from me, swirling his wine glass with a mocking grin. "Hey, Natalie. I heard your mom is having quite a cozy time in prison. Living off the Sterling family's dime must feel pretty damn comfortable, huh?"

The entire table fell dead silent.

Julian sat in his seat, saying nothing. He merely lifted his tea cup and took a slow sip.

My knuckles turned white around my linen napkin.

I looked up and locked eyes with Leo. "My mother's business is none of yours."

"None of mine?" Leo chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "If it weren't for our family, your mom wouldn't even be alive right now. If it weren't for us, you wouldn't even be allowed to breathe the air in this room. Know your place, Natalie. Don't be so shameless."

Julian's personal assistant chimed in from the side. "Julian treats you far better than you deserve, Natalie. Some people just don't know when to be grateful."

I pushed my chair back, the legs scraping violently against the hardwood floor.

"I'm done eating."

I turned to walk away.

Just as I reached the dining room entrance, Sharon Hayes stepped around the corner holding a glass of red wine—and collided squarely into me.

The glass flipped. Dark red liquid splashed all over Sharon’s pristine white designer dress, soaking the fabric and dripping down the hem.

"Oh!" Sharon gasped, her eyes brimming with tears in an instant. "Natalie... why did you shove me?..."

Everyone at the table turned to look.

I stood there, stunned.

I hadn't even touched her. She had thrown herself at me.

Julian shot up from his seat, crossing the room in three strides. He stripped off his jacket, draped it over Sharon’s shoulders, and glared at me with a face like thunder.

"Apologize to her."

I looked at him. "I didn't push her."

"I told you to apologize." Julian’s voice was dangerously low, leaving no room for argument. "In front of everyone, apologize to Sharon right now."

Sharon gently tugged on Julian’s sleeve, whimpering, "Julian, please, it's fine... Natalie didn't mean it..."

"So that gives her the right to dump wine all over you?" Julian kept his gaze locked on me. "Apologize."

The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Dozens of eyes bore into me, waiting for me to break, waiting for me to kneel.

I stared at Julian for what felt like an eternity.

Then, I spoke, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry."

Only then did Julian's expression soften. He guided Sharon toward the private sitting room down the hall.

I stood in place, my hands ice-cold.

After a few minutes, I walked toward the sitting room as well.

I needed to see if Sharon needed a fresh change of clothes. At the very least, I had to keep up the appearance of peace.

The door was slightly open.

I lifted my hand to knock, but voices inside stopped me.

Sharon’s voice drifted out, laced with a flirtatious giggle. "Julian, can you give me another spare key to your office? I lost the one you gave me last week."

Julian replied, "There's a spare in the top drawer. Just take it yourself."

"Wait, don't you forbid anyone from stepping inside your office?" Sharon teased lightly. "Won't it look bad if I just walk in?"

"You're different."

My hand froze in midair.

A memory flashed into my mind. Once, I had wanted to wait for Julian in his hospital office after his shift. The moment I reached the door, he had blocked me with a cold glare.

He had told me his office was strictly for work and completely off-limits to everyone. He had spoken to me like I was a thief.

It turned out it wasn't off-limits to everyone. It was only off-limits to me.

I pushed the door open.

Sharon was standing before the vanity mirror adjusting her hair. Hearing the door, she turned around without a shred of panic.

On her left wrist, she wore a watch.

My gaze locked onto it.

It was the watch I had bought for Julian with my very first prize money after my debut solo performance.

When I gave it to him, he had looked down at it with sheer disgust, called it cheap junk, and tossed it into a drawer.

I thought it had been rotting in that drawer all these years.

Now, it sat proudly on Sharon Hayes’s wrist.

Sharon noticed where I was looking. She lifted her arm, flaunting the watch with a sweet smile. "Julian gave it to me. Pretty, isn't it?"

I didn't utter a word.

I turned and walked away from the room, my steps steady, my spine straight.

A week later, Julian took Sharon out of state for a seven-day medical conference.

During those seven days, his assistant made sure to relay messages to me daily.

On Day One, the assistant said: "Julian told me to tell you that he's doing great out there. He said you shouldn't overthink things."

On Day Three, the assistant said: "Julian and Miss Hayes are staying at the same hotel. Miss Hayes has been glued to his side at the gala. Everyone thinks they're an item."

On Day Five, the assistant said: "Julian said you should know what’s good for you. Walking away on your own is a lot more dignified than getting thrown out."

On Day Seven, the assistant didn't show up.

I sat in my quiet, empty room, piecing together every single puzzle from the past weeks.

From what I overheard backstage, to the relentless humiliation over the past seven days.

It wasn't that I hadn't given him a chance.

I had waited for him for eleven years, hoping that one day he would truly care for me.

I was done waiting.

I pulled out my phone, scrolled to Marcus Sterling's number, and dialed.

The phone rang three times before connecting.

"Mr. Sterling," I said, my voice shockingly calm even to my own ears. "I want to talk to you about calling off the engagement."