Chapter 1

I met Westley when I was fourteen and fell in love with him at eighteen.

Ten years of deep affection, yet it couldn't withstand a few words of manipulation from his new secretary:

"Tell me, if you and I both fell down the stairs at the same time, who would Mr. Ford save first?"

He indeed saved her first.

He believed her self staged setup. He locked me in the freezer I feared most as punishment, where rats crawled all over me.

My heart died, and I fled.

But he chased me to Paris, and when he saw another man embracing me, he begged.

"Celine, do you really not love me anymore?"

Celine POV

My friends all envied my relationship with Westley Ford.

As the CEO of a multibillion dollar corporation, Westley was incredibly busy, always on the go.

But during my three years studying in Paris, whenever I sent him a message or called, even if he was in an important company meeting, he would respond immediately.

Knowing I was sensitive to cold, he would remind me over and over on video calls to bundle up.

Hearing that I was losing sleep from thesis stress, he would sit in his office and talk to me on the phone for hours, even overseas, just to read me the fairy tales I loved as a child to help me fall asleep.

When he learned I had a high fever, he abandoned billion-dollar contract negotiations and flew specifically to Paris to personally take care of me.

Friends often teased him for being completely devoted to love.

Westley would just smile indulgently.

"My Celine is so outstanding. If I don't treat her well, what if she falls for someone else and doesn't want me anymore?"

Hearing these words, I couldn't help but smile, my heart filled with happiness.

So I pulled several all-nighters, working hard to finish my defense early before his birthday this year, completing my studies.

When I flew back filled with excitement, wanting to give him a birthday surprise, I overheard his conversation with friends outside a private room at a club.

The door was ajar, and his friend's voice carried notes of intoxication and envy.

"Westley, when Celine Sterling finishes her studies and comes back, shouldn't your wedding be put on the schedule?"

After a brief silence, Westley's voice rang out with obvious hesitation.

"The wedding... let's wait a bit longer."

The private room instantly fell somewhat quiet, everyone exchanging glances.

Someone broke the silence.

"Westley, are you drunk? Didn't you used to be afraid she would run off with someone else, always saying that once she returned home, you'd propose to her immediately?"

"I was indeed looking forward to it before, hoping she could graduate and return home to get married as soon as possible."

Westley seemed to laugh.

"But separated by countries for three years, over a thousand days and nights. Somehow, that anticipation doesn't seem as intense as it was in the beginning."

Immediately, everyone's voices fell silent.

Someone else cautiously probed.

"You... don't love Celine anymore?"

Westley's slender fingers gripped a glass wine goblet as he lowered his eyes and said softly,

"Of course I still love her. It's just that, somehow, I no longer feel that urgent desire for her to return as I did before."

Outside the private room door, my fingertips turned ice-cold, clutching tightly the birthday gift I had carefully prepared for him.

The velvet box pressed deep into my palm, yet it couldn't match one ten-thousandth of the dull pain in my heart.

I had rushed back on his birthday with such joy, wanting to surprise him.

Instead, I never expected to hear him say he was no longer so eager for my return.

What did that make me, standing here? A self-deluded joke?

The extreme embarrassment made my chest feel so tight I couldn't breathe, my eyes stubbornly stinging with tears.

I forced back the moisture welling in my eyes and was about to turn and leave when suddenly I saw a girl in a pale yellow dress approaching.

I instinctively retreated into the shadows of a corridor corner.

The girl in her early twenties walked into the private room and handed a glass of water to Westley.

"Mr. Ford, drinking harms your health. Please drink less."

Westley reached out to take it, naturally brushing the loose strands of hair from her forehead.

"Didn't I tell you to clock out? You didn't need to make a special trip to bring this."

The girl's expression was sweet and tender.

"Today is your birthday. I was worried you'd drink too much and have another headache attack."

"In that case, stay here and help me deal with them."

Westley's lips curved slightly, the corners of his eyes and brows rippling with a smile as he pulled the girl to sit beside him.

Whether intentionally or not, the girl's foot twisted and she fell into his embrace.

Westley instinctively reached out to steady her waist, catching her firmly.

The moment their eyes met, an alluring blush crept across the girl's fair cheeks, and Westley didn't immediately push her away, saying something to her with helpless indulgence.

That kind of look and manner had only appeared when we were passionately in love.

The intimate, ambiguous scene in the private room was like a sharp, pointed needle stabbing straight into my vision.

My aching heart suddenly felt like a shattered glass bottle.

I stood frozen, feeling cold from head to toe.