Chapter 2

"The sound of the shredder is definitely more pleasant than your crying."

Lucas adjusted his cuffs and casually pushed open the lounge door.

Outside, the lights blazed and elegant guests mingled.

This was the eighth bride-selection gala hosted by the wealthy Ashford family.

And my last chance.

He didn't even glance at me standing in the shadowed corner.

He walked straight toward Bianca, who was surrounded by a group of socialites.

"Lucas!" Bianca crashed into his arms like a startled fawn, sobbing:

"They're saying I don't belong here. They're calling me a homewrecker who's ruining your relationship with Serena..."

Lucas frowned deeply. His sharp gaze swept across the room, finally landing on the gossiping socialites.

"Who dares say she doesn't belong? Bianca is my most important guest. Anyone who upsets her upsets me."

The room fell silent.

Those socialites turned pale and looked to me for help as I stepped out.

After all, for the past seven years, I had been Lucas Ashford's girlfriend in name.

Aside from that strange "blind selection" quirk of his.

He gave me everything I asked for.

Everyone expected me to march over and slap Bianca.

Or to confront him with tears in my eyes like I had the past seven years, demanding to know why he was protecting another woman.

But this time, I simply smoothed my dress calmly.

I picked up a glass of champagne from a waiter's tray and took a small sip.

"Serena, aren't you going to do something?" someone whispered.

I smiled.

"Mr. Ashford is playing hero. Why would I interfere? Besides, I'm curious to see if my name is actually in this year's selection box."

Lucas stiffened. He instinctively turned to look at me.

He clearly hadn't expected this reaction.

In the past, I would have been crying and demanding that Bianca leave.

But today.

I was calm. Like an outsider.

Irritation flickered in his eyes. He released Bianca and strode toward me.

"Serena, what kind of tantrum are you throwing now? Bianca just got back. She's not well. She can't handle being upset. Can't you be more understanding?"

Understanding?

I looked at this man I had loved for over a decade.

And suddenly felt like I didn't know him at all.

I had hidden my sharp edges to match his tastes. I learned to cook for him.

To get my name into that damned box.

I bribed the butler. I won over his mother. I schemed and plotted.

And for what?

For my heart to be shredded to pieces in that machine.

"Lucas."

I set down my glass.

"I'm not throwing a tantrum. I just think you're right. Miss Whitmore is delicate. She really does need someone to take good care of her during her treatment."