Chapter 1

When he promised me a bright future, his eyes held only me.

Back then we had nothing, cramming ourselves into a rented room to eat stale bread.

He held me and said, "When the company goes public, I'll marry you."

I stayed with him through the hardest days, from a basement startup to a ten-billion-dollar fortune.

I naively waited for that day.

But when the company finally went public, he held the hand of a woman in white and said to me, "Sophia, you need to be understanding."

The day news of his marriage to Charlotte spread, I was doing my makeup.

Aaron carefully carried in documents, not daring to lift his head even once.

He'd been by Ethan's side for a long time, witnessing all our vows of eternal love.

Even he knew to feel guilty.

What about you, Ethan?

I laughed self-mockingly and casually took the documents without signing.

"Where is he?"

Aaron lowered his head even further. "Mr. Sterling is in a meeting and can't get away, but he's been thinking of you constantly."

My smile didn't reach my eyes. "He's with Charlotte, isn't he?"

Aaron fell silent.

So I'd guessed right.

Whatever.

I watched Aaron leave.

Outside, unseasonable snow began to fall, landing lightly on my heart.

My first meeting with Ethan was in weather just like this.

My father returned from a business trip with a young man at his side.

He wore a black coat.

Though young, his sharp eyes radiated calm authority.

I stood behind the corridor.

My father spotted me and beckoned me over. "This is my daughter Sophia. She's my only child. I've spoiled her terribly. If she offends you, I'll discipline her myself."

I stood frozen, thinking only that this young man was impossibly handsome, forgetting to respond.

He smiled, his eyes showing a trace of gentleness that made my vision blur.

I didn't know then that he would become a business titan worth billions.

I called him Ethan and pestered him to teach me about business.

He showed no impatience.

Through blazing summers and bitter winters, he accompanied me running deals on the front lines.

My mother teased me. "Your father used to make you wake early to review reports, and you'd cry like a monkey. Now look at you, running to the office every day. You've gotten taller and darker. You don't look like a girl at all. I wonder how you'll ever get married."

I said it didn't matter, but my hands kept applying skincare products.

A young girl's feelings are always transparent.

I loved his composure, his occasional melancholy, his every word and action, his every gesture.

Ethan treated me well too.

In his spare time he'd take me to drink wine.

Each time he returned from business trips, he brought me novel gifts.

I was spirited and impulsive, yet this decisive man used nothing but gentle words with me.

Besides my father and my brother Jason, he was the best man to me.

The world was in chaos then, the internet wave sweeping in, countless startups rising and falling.

My family had been in business for generations.

My father wasn't rigid like ordinary men - from childhood he taught me finance, strategy, management, and business logic.

As a child I hated these lessons, always envying the neighbor girl who could act spoiled and throw tantrums, while I got scolded by my father if my PowerPoints weren't good enough.

Fortunately, Ethan was a good teacher.

He never spoke harshly to me.

Even when extremely frustrated, he'd just take a deep breath and smile with resignation.

"Sophia, the cherries in the suburbs are ripe. Let me take you to pick some."

I tossed aside my laptop and followed him.

He drove me to an orchard, nimbly climbed a tree, and picked a bag of cherries.

I munched happily on the cherries.

A breeze blew gently.

He sat on the hillside in his black clothes, staring intently at the cherries in his hand.

Ethan's mother had loved cherries most.

Back then I was carefree and didn't recognize the emotion he was emanating - called sorrow.

That autumn night, I watched fireworks with him but encountered an attack by business rivals.

We fled together, scrambling into an abandoned factory.

He had multiple knife wounds and soon developed a high fever.

He became delirious with fever, mumbling half-conscious, "Mom, I picked cherries for you. Please try them."

Only then did I learn his family had suffered a major tragedy.

That tragedy was extremely brutal.

I couldn't imagine how an eight-year-old Ethan survived that disaster.

Touching his burning body, my heart ached terribly.

I soaked my clothes in cold water, moved swiftly through the night, removed his shirt and held his solid chest, trying to cool him down.

After several trips, he finally wasn't burning anymore.

At dawn the next day, the morning chill made me sneeze.

Ethan, nestled in my arms, suddenly woke.

Our eyes met.

Ethan, who'd faced a dozen thugs the night before without changing expression, now touched his bare upper body and for the first time blushed.

Shortly after returning, I fell ill.

I lay in bed like a dead fish, my throat burning.

Ethan was devastated, sitting by the bed feeding me almond milk, staying awake for four whole days.

Finally my mother couldn't stand it and persuaded him to change clothes and sleep.

Before turning twenty, Ethan could already lead a team to secure agency rights for the entire East Coast region.

My father praised him endlessly whenever he mentioned him.

He said Ethan was accomplished beyond his years, with immeasurable prospects, and wanted to betroth me to him.

My mother said Ethan was no ordinary man and worried.

My father laughed heartily, saying his daughter naturally deserved the best man in the world.

I eavesdropped outside the door.

Truth was, since that night in the factory, I'd already considered myself Ethan's.

But if you'd lived to see this day, you'd surely regret that decision.