Chapter 1

Seven years after our divorce, I saw Gaylen Thorne again at a nightclub.

He was lounging on a sofa, casually scanning the women, looking for entertainment.

The manager scurried over after the third group of stunning, curvaceous women were dismissed from the room.

"Mr. Thorne, this batch of dancers... they're the closest resemblance to your wife yet..."

Gaylen smashed a liquor bottle on the floor before the manager could finish his sentence.

As I walked past him, he suddenly froze.

"Is that you?"

I lifted my head, brushing a strand of hair aside to reveal half of my face, marred by burn scars, and gave him a faint smile.

"Mr. Thorne, long time no see."

The air hung silent for a few seconds, as if time itself had paused.

Gaylen stumbled towards me.

His hands trembling, he cautiously spoke.

"You're alive?"

His face was a mixture of disbelief and the profound joy of a lost treasure found.

"All these years, why didn't you contact me?"

"Do you have any idea how long I've been looking for you...?"

I didn't respond, a flicker of bewilderment in my eyes.

He was the one who practically wanted to banish me to the ends of the earth, to never see me again. And now, *he's* the one claiming he's been searching for me all this time.

"Are you still mad at me?"

His voice, raw and strained, suddenly broke the silence.

His gaze fell on the scars on my face, a hint of anguish in his tone.

"So mad that you'd rather work in a place like this than come to me, is that it?"

I paused, surprised.

Then I realized Gaylen had misunderstood.

It was my birthday today, and I was simply celebrating at a venue I owned.

But I couldn't be bothered to explain.

Hate was too much of a luxury for Gaylen Thorne. He didn't deserve it.

Gaylen seemed to suddenly realize something. He began to stammer, flustered and anxious.

"I don't usually come to places like this. It's just... I remembered it was your birthday today, and I just... I missed you so much that I..."

I watched Gaylen, a mocking smile playing on my lips.

A murderer who had killed my parents and crushed the bones in my hand, was actually saying... he missed me?

"Mr. Thorne, you're crossing a line."

As if he hadn't expected such a calm response, Gaylen's face flickered with disappointment, regret, and a touch of sadness.

He was about to say more when his phone suddenly rang.

"Where are you? You haven't been home in almost a month!"

"I know what day it is today, did you go to—"

My brow furrowed. Fragmented memories, laced with intense emotions, flooded my mind.

I couldn't help but let out a cynical scoff.

Instantly, the female voice on the phone grew sharper.

"Who is that? Who are you with right now?"

The call was abruptly cut.

Gaylen's face was etched with impatience.

He took a few deep breaths, trying to appear gentle and harmless, before looking at me again.

He handed me a black card.

"If you're short on cash, take this card."

"After all, you're... the former darling. You shouldn't have to do this kind of work."

The darling.

I hadn't heard that title in so long, it made me falter for a second.

But Gaylen Thorne's condescending tone made my stomach churn even more.

After all, he was the architect of all my nightmares.

Why bother with this act of false sympathy?

I pushed the black card back, said nothing, and turned to leave.

But Gaylen insisted on following, babbling endlessly about how hard it had been to find me over the years.

He talked about our old memories.

Annoyance flared within me, and I finally couldn't help but interrupt.

"Mr. Thorne, I'm married. Please stop bothering me."

The biting cold wind prompted me to pull my coat tighter.

Before Gaylen could fully grasp my words, I walked away, my boots crunching on the thick snow.