Chapter 1

I saved amnesiac Holt Thornton and worked myself to the bone for three years to support him.

But after he recovered his memories, he called me a gold-digger who seduced him for money.

He let his lover force liquor down my throat, personally signed the papers, and bulldozed the home where we'd survived together.

After that fiasco, I had a gastric hemorrhage and lost two-thirds of my stomach. I left with nothing and fled far away.

Later, when he learned the truth, he knelt before me with red-rimmed eyes, telling me over and over that he loved me, begging me to come back.

I only calmly threw him a medical diagnosis.

It said I was dying.

Sage's POV

San Diego nights were always dazzlingly glamorous, enough to make your head spin.

I stood in the most inconspicuous corner of the ballroom, like an out-of-place intruder.

I wore a black evening gown that Holt Thornton had casually told his assistant to buy an hour ago.

The size was one size too big, the neckline somewhat loose.

But I could only hunch my shoulders slightly, trying hard to minimize my presence.

Under the crystal chandelier not far away, Holt was surrounded by a group of business executives.

His impeccably tailored cold gray custom suit made his already superior physique look even more striking.

He stood with one hand in his pocket, fingers holding a wine glass, occasionally lowering his head to listen to the woman beside him speak, his lips curling into an extremely faint arc.

The woman standing next to him was the only daughter of the Davis Corporation, Melanie Davis.

She wore the latest custom starlight dress of the season, and the diamond necklace around her neck refracted light that stung my eyes.

A perfect match of talent and beauty, made for each other.

This was the phrase I'd heard most tonight.

"Holt, you've had a bit too much to drink tonight."

Melanie's voice was soft and delicate as she naturally reached out to straighten Holt's tie.

Holt didn't dodge.

He even lowered his head, allowing Melanie's movements.

In that instant, my heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, even breathing pulled at raw flesh with pain.

I unconsciously took a step forward.

My high heels clicked on the polished marble floor, making a light sound.

The people around stopped their conversations, their gazes falling on me.

Melanie turned her head, and when she saw me, a flash of unconcealed contempt crossed her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a gentle smile.

"And this is..."

Melanie looked at Holt with feigned confusion.

The smile on Holt's face instantly faded.

He looked up at me, his eyes cold as ice, as if looking at a thoughtless subordinate.

"An assistant."

His thin lips parted, uttering those words.

"An assistant." The word shattered three years of our bond into pieces.

I froze in place, my blood turning cold inch by inch.

I was his assistant.

Yes, ever since he recovered his memory and became the high and mighty head of the Thornton family again, I'd become his invisible household assistant.

"Oh, just an assistant."

Melanie smiled meaningfully, picking up a glass of red wine and walking toward me.

"You worked hard taking care of Holt tonight. This drink is for you."

She held out the wine glass.

I bit my lower lip, about to reach for it.

"Oh my!"

Melanie suddenly cried out, her wrist tilting, spilling the entire glass of red wine on my ill-fitting black dress.

The liquid ran down my chest, utterly humiliating.

A few drops also splattered on Melanie's dress.

"Why are you so careless?"

Melanie frowned, her tone full of grievance.

"This is the dress Holt specially had flown in from Paris for me."

I jerked my head up.

"I didn't touch you at all!"

"Enough."

An icy voice crashed down from above, carrying undeniable authority.

Holt strode over, pulling Melanie behind him, his brow furrowed as he stared at me.

"Holt, I think her nail scratched the back of my hand. It hurts a little."

Melanie nestled behind him, murmuring softly.

Holt looked down, seeing an extremely faint red mark on Melanie's pale hand, and the temperature around him instantly dropped to freezing.

He raised his head, looking at me like I was a vicious criminal.

"Apologize."

He commanded.

"I didn't push her, and I didn't scratch her. She spilled the wine on me herself!"

I clenched my dress tightly.

"Sage, I told you to apologize."

Holt's voice lowered a few degrees, dripping with impatience.

"Don't embarrass me in a place like this. Where are your manners?"

Embarrassing. Manners.

These words carved into my heart like knives.

I looked at this cold, handsome man before me.

He'd forgotten.

Three years ago, when he'd injured his brain, penniless and starving, collapsed at my rental apartment door, it was this "ill-mannered" woman who fed him the last spoonful of hot soup.

Now, he stood high above, and I'd become the embarrassing stain.

I gave a bitter laugh, closed my eyes, and forced back the tears.

"I'm sorry, Miss Davis."

With that, I turned and walked out of the ballroom step by step under everyone's mocking gazes.

Without looking back.