Chapter 2

Selena's POV

At 3 AM, I typed the last word.

I sent the revised contract to Tristan's email.

I leaned back in my chair, looking at London's desolate night view through the floor-to-ceiling windows, exhausted to the bone.

Seven years.

I'd been with Tristan since I was twenty.

Back then, I was the principal cellist at the Music Conservatory.

Back then, my heart and eyes were full of the cello and my future.

Tristan had pursued me.

He'd wait downstairs with the hardest-to-find lemon cake when I rehearsed until late at night.

He'd furrow his brow in distress over a tiny scratch on my finger, applying medicine himself.

He said. "Selena, your hands are for playing the cello, not for suffering."

He said. "Selena, after graduation, let's get married."

I believed him.

I fell in love with him completely, even giving up my opportunity to study abroad for him.

But what happened after?

The Hart family went bankrupt. My father became addicted to gambling, racking up loan shark debts.

Debt collectors cornered me in an alley and nearly destroyed my hands.

Tristan saved me, paid off my debts.

But from that moment on, everything changed.

He became my creditor, my benefactor, the only lifeline I could grasp.

To be worthy of him, to help him secure his position in the Vale family.

I took off my white dresses and put on rigid business suits.

I learned to drink, learned to schmooze, learned to smile at those greasy old men.

I even drank until I had stomach bleeding, just to shield him from alcohol.

To secure a project for him, I stood in the snow for three hours.

I became smooth, worldly, only caring about money.

I personally killed the Selena who played the cello and turned myself into a blade that cleared the path for Tristan.

But he found this blade covered in blood, found this blade no longer clean.

My phone suddenly vibrated.

It was the nursing home calling.

My heart tightened. I answered immediately.

"Ms. Hart, your brother had another episode today and broke quite a few things. We've already administered sedatives."

"Also, this month's fees are due. Could you..."

I took a deep breath, suppressing the sob in my throat.

"I understand. I'll transfer the money first thing tomorrow morning. Please take good care of him."

After hanging up, I opened my bank account.

The balance was nearly depleted.

Over the years, I'd earned quite a bit, but almost all of it went to filling the Hart family's bottomless pit and my brother's medical expenses.

As for Tristan, he did pay me well, but he never gave me extra money.

He used this method to control me precisely.

Making it impossible for me to leave him, making me cling to him like a dog.

The door lock clicked.

Tristan was back.

He walked into the living room carrying a chill and the faint scent of gardenias.

That was Summer Lynn's scent.

I stood up and walked over to take his coat.

"How much did you drink? I'll get you some medicine."

I habitually reached out to loosen his tie.

He suddenly stepped back, avoiding my hand.

"Don't touch me."

He frowned, his eyes carrying obvious disgust.

My hand froze in mid-air.

"You reek of cheap perfume and cigarettes. It's nauseating."

He pulled off his tie and tossed it carelessly on the sofa.

I looked down at myself.

Tonight, for that contract, I had attended a social event and been forced to drink quite a bit.

"Sorry, I'll take a shower."

I said softly.

"No need."

Tristan walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and lit a cigarette.

"Selena, we need to talk."

My heart sank.

Instinct told me that what he was about to say would drag me completely into hell.

"Summer is a good girl."

He exhaled a smoke ring, his voice calm yet cruel.

"I really like her."

"She's clean. Simple minded. Nothing like you are now. You're full of schemes, willing to do anything for money."

My fingers trembled.

"So?"

"So I plan to support her through college, then marry her."

Tristan turned around, looking down at me.

"You've been with me for seven years. Even without merit, you've worked hard."

"At the company, you'll still be my chief secretary."

"But in private, know your place. Don't provoke her. She's timid and easily frightened."

My heart felt like it was thrown into a meat grinder, shredded, bloody and mangled.

He was going to marry someone else, because he found me dirty.

But who had I become dirty for?

"Tristan."

I heard my hoarse voice,

"What if I don't agree?"

Tristan paused, then laughed as if he'd heard the joke of the century.

He stubbed out his cigarette, walked up to me, reached out and gripped my chin, squeezing hard.

"Don't agree?"

"Selena, on what grounds would you not agree?"

"Do you think you're still that celebrated cellist from seven years ago?"

"You're nothing but a notorious social butterfly now! Everyone in London knows you, Selena Hart, will use any underhanded means to climb up!"

"That gambling addict father of yours racked up another ten million last week. That mentally ill brother of yours costs hundreds of thousands in medical expenses every month."

He leaned close to my ear, his voice as gentle as a demon's whisper.

"Leave me, and what will you live on? Hmm?"

My tears fell onto the back of his hand.

He jerked his hand away in disgust and pulled out a wet wipe to clean it.

"Put away those tears. So ugly."

"Remember what I said. Don't touch Summer. Otherwise, I'll show you what it truly means to wish you were dead."

He turned and went into the bathroom.

Water started running.

I collapsed onto the cold floor, covering my mouth, not even daring to cry out loud.