Eight years of secretly loving Liam Smith, and I finally slept with him. The next day, I overheard him on the patio, taking a call: “It was just a one-night stand. Marry her? You’ve got to be kidding. Just give her some money and send her packing.” I didn’t cry or make a scene. I got dressed, went home, and dragged out the box filled with eight years of memories. Stolen photos, movie ticket stubs, a button he’d lost—everything went straight into a black trash bag. As the garbage truck rumbled past, crushing everything, I breathed a sigh of relief. Later, that same man who said “just give her some money and send her packing” was impaled through the back by a scorching steel pipe, saving me. He held me, covered in blood, and whispered a secret: “Actually… I’m a werewolf, which is why I had to push you away. But now, I regret it.” Emma Johnson pov Eight years of secretly loving Liam Smith, and I finally slept with him. It was unexpected, absurd, yet somehow, perfectly natural. I woke up at six in the morning. It had rained all night in London. I picked up my clothes from the floor and went into the bathroom to shower. My reflection in the mirror showed hickeys all over my body, and a clear tooth mark just above my collarbone. As I leaned closer to examine it, I heard movement outside. Liam was awake, on the phone. Through the half-open glass door, his voice was deep and husky, carrying the lazy drawl of after-sex. “I drank too much last night, didn’t even see who it was.” The person on the other end was probably one of his friends, teasing him. Liam lit a cigarette, his tone so indifferent it was almost cold. “Who told you to drug her? Don’t use those tactics again.” A cloud of smoke curled around him, and he paused, a hint of annoyance in his voice: “I didn’t just mark her, last night was her first time… What do you want me to do? Take her to a formal mate ceremony before the Moongoddess?” A scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous. The Elder Council would never allow me to marry a mere human… Yeah, yeah, a lot of them can’t find their fated mate, but I’m an Alpha.” “I’ll figure out the mark issue. As for compensation… you can give her a card later, she can fill in any amount she wants. Enough for her to live comfortably for the rest of her life. Consider it settling eight years of acquaintance.” My hand, halfway buttoning my shirt, froze. Blood rushed away from my head, my limbs turning cold, so much so that the strange parts of his words were instinctively ignored. To him, my eight years of careful companionship, that one night of passion, could only be quantified into a cold string of numbers. And topped off with, “Don’t be ridiculous.” I didn’t cry. I showered swiftly, got dressed, and quietly left the villa that had imprisoned my youth. Back home, my father was sitting on the sofa, sighing. On the coffee table lay a pile of photos—potential suitors he’d had someone scout for me. “Emma, I know you like Liam. But his status… we can’t afford to reach that high. I’m getting old, my health isn’t what it used to be. I just want to see you settle down with a normal guy…” Before, I would’ve stayed silent, resisted, or found an excuse to go back to my room. But today, I walked over, my gaze sweeping across the photos. None of them looked like Liam. That was good. I pointed to one at random: “This one will do.” My father looked stunned, almost disbelieving: “This is Noah Davis, a doctor. He’s very gentle, but he’s moving to New York for work. If you marry him, you might have to leave home…” “It’s fine.” I cut him off. “The farther, the better. Dad, arrange for us to meet.” My father was overjoyed and immediately went to make a call. I returned to my room and dragged out a locked box from the back of my closet. It contained everything related to Liam. In high school, Liam was on the baseball team, the best player, according to the coach. I went to every one of his games and kept countless photos. There were also movie ticket stubs from the films we watched together over those eight years. Even a button that had fallen off his shirt. I found a large black trash bag and dumped that box of treasures, along with the heart that had loved Liam for eight years, all inside. I tied the bag shut and tossed it into the downstairs trash bin. The garbage truck rumbled past, crushing everything. I looked at the empty room and let out a long breath.
Emma Johnson pov The meeting with Noah Davis went smoother than I could have imagined. Noah wore gold-rimmed glasses, looking gentle and refined, speaking with a mild-mannered politeness. He didn’t have Liam’s overbearing presence; he was like a glass of plain water, comfortable but unremarkable. Suitable for marriage, suitable for life. “Ms. Johnson, my situation should have been explained to you by the matchmaker.” Noah refilled my water glass. “I’m moving to New York next month, and I might settle there. If you’re willing, we can get married first, and you can join me after you’ve sorted out your work here.” The pace was surprisingly fast, almost as if it were a task to be completed. But I only thought for three seconds: “Okay.” Noah looked up, a little surprised: “Don’t you want to think about it more? Marriage is a big decision, after all.” “No need to think.” I lowered my gaze, stirring the water in my glass. “I want a change of scenery, a fresh start.” Noah smiled, a genuinely happy smile: “What a coincidence, so do I.” We clicked instantly. The dinner, though lacking passion, was remarkably relaxed. No one had to look up to anyone, no one had to try to please anyone by cramming up on their hobbies or learning to play difficult games. Since I’d decided to leave, the first thing I did when I got back to the magazine office was hand in my resignation. My editor, Mr. Harrison, frowned as he read my letter. “It’s not that I don’t want you to leave. You’re a key member of our team; losing you would be a big blow. Besides, you haven’t finished that feature on London’s new elite.” Mr. Harrison tapped on his desk and laid out his terms: “How about this: the last guest for the feature is Liam Smith. Everyone in London knows he never gives exclusive interviews, but you know him well. If you can get an exclusive with him, even just for ten minutes, I’ll sign your resignation immediately and double your bonus for this month.” My fingers, clutching the resignation letter, whitened slightly. Liam. Always Liam. His name seemed impossible to shake off. “Mr. Harrison, can’t someone else do it?” “No.” Mr. Harrison’s attitude was firm. “Only you can do it. If this article isn’t finished, your resignation process might take three months to go through.” I was silent for a long time. To leave London cleanly, to completely sever the past. One last meeting. After this, I’d never see him again. I pulled out my phone, found the number that had been pinned at the top for eight years but which I’d never dared to dial. My fingertip hovered above the screen, trembled, and finally pressed down. It rang once before being answered. The other end was noisy, like people were playing cards. Then there was the sound of footsteps, and the surroundings quieted. Liam’s voice came through the receiver, tinged with a casual mockery: “You’ve been avoiding me for three days. Finally decided to call?” He knew I was avoiding him, of course. I took a deep breath and spoke in a professional tone: “Mr. Smith, our magazine would like to do an exclusive interview with you. Do you have any availability?” There was a two-second silence on the other end, followed by a soft scoff. “Emma, since when did you start keeping your distance from me?” Liam seemed to be in a good mood, not annoyed by the formal address. “I’m at the club. Come over now.” He rattled off a name. I knew the place; that club was owned by Ethan, Liam’s assistant. They always chose that place for their gatherings. Apparently, because Ethan could always get drinks no other place had. “It’s working hours right now…” “Then forget the interview.” Liam cut me off, his voice carrying his usual arrogance and possessiveness. “If I don’t see you here within half an hour, the interview’s off.” With that, he hung up. I stared at the darkened screen, putting my phone away. I turned and called my photographer: “Let’s go, to the club.” Mike looked shocked: “My god, you’re amazing! You actually managed to get him!” I didn’t say anything. Amazing? That was a “privilege” I’d earned through eight years of heartbreak and effort. And today, I was going to tear that privilege to shreds and throw it in the trash.
Emma Johnson pov The bouncer at the club didn’t stop me. He knew who I was and that Liam allowed me to enter. But my photographer was stopped outside, the reason being that private clubs prohibited all photography. I had to tell him to wait in the car. As soon as I stepped inside, eyes immediately fell on me, filled with surprise and curiosity. But soon, Liam’s bodyguard personally came to greet me, leading me up to the second floor. Those strange looks quickly turned into respect. I didn’t understand how Liam managed to command such respect everywhere he went. He was just a wealthy man with a terrible personality. The private room door opened. The air inside was thick with smoke and heavy with the smell of alcohol. A group of Liam’s friends were laughing with their female companions. When they saw me enter, the room quieted for a moment, then erupted in louder jeers. “Isn’t that Emma? Long time no see!” “Wow, you’ve got a lot of pull! Haven’t seen her in three days, and now she’s here checking up on you?” The man sitting on the central sofa was wearing a black shirt, two buttons undone at the collar. He was toying with a lighter, its flame flickering on and off, illuminating his sharply chiseled face—a face that could make countless women fall head over heels. Liam Smith. He leaned back lazily against the chair, his gaze cutting through the crowd and landing on me. His eyes lingered on me for a moment, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly before smoothing out. He then patted the empty spot beside him. “Come here.” It was like he was calling a well-trained pet. Before, I would’ve meekly walked over, sat down, poured him a drink, and done whatever he told me. But this time, I resisted the urge to obey. “Mr. Smith, I’m in a hurry. Can we do the interview here?” I pulled out my equipment. “About fifteen minutes.” The atmosphere in the room instantly turned cold. Everyone exchanged glances. Liam’s hand, toying with the lighter, paused. The lid snapped shut. His eyes, in the dim light, turned silver, but quickly reverted to blue, as if it had just been my imagination. “Emma, what’s with the act?” “Mr. Smith, you’re mistaken.” I turned on my voice recorder, looking him straight in the eye. “It’s just work. If it’s inconvenient, we can reschedule or have someone else come.” With that, I started to pack up my things. “Stop.” Liam’s face hardened. He slammed his glass on the table, making a sharp clinking sound. “Everyone out.” He waved his hand at the others. Though curious, no one dared to push their luck. They all filed out with their companions, but as they passed me, their eyes held curious, almost theatrical gazes. The private room door closed. Only the two of us remained in the vast space. The lights were dim, the air thick with expensive cologne and stale cigarette smoke. Liam stood up and walked towards me, step by step. He was tall, intensely intimidating. He leaned down, close to my face, his warm breath fanning my ear: “Still mad about that morning? Didn’t I say Ethan would send you a card? Not enough money?” I took a half-step back, avoiding his breath. “I didn’t take the card. It’s already been mailed back to your company’s front desk.” I looked up. “Liam, that day was an accident. We’re both adults; let’s just move on. I’m only here today for work.” “Move on?” Liam laughed as if he’d heard a joke, then suddenly reached out and squeezed my chin. “Emma, you chased me for eight years, why are you pretending to be so carefree now? I don’t believe you don’t feel anything for me. That night, you clearly…” “That was because of the drugs.” I cut him off. “Mr. Smith, I’m resigning. This exclusive interview is my last task at this company. After I finish this, I’m leaving London. From now on, we shouldn’t meet again.” Liam’s fingers tightened abruptly, with so much force it made me wince. “Leaving London? Going where?” A beast’s growl seemed to rise in his throat, sounding incredibly dangerous. “That’s none of your business.” “To avoid me?” A flicker of anger flared in Liam’s eyes. “Emma, are you serious? Just because I didn’t give you a title? You never used to care about that.” “I was foolish before.” I forcefully pried his hand open, took two steps back, and smoothed out my wrinkled collar. “Now I understand. A great family heir like you isn’t suited for an ordinary human like me. I apologize for any past intrusions. It won’t happen again.” An ordinary human? He’d said something similar that day. The wording was strange, but I figured I must have misheard him. I raised my voice recorder again: “Mr. Smith, my first question is about the Smith Group’s strategic layout for the next quarter…” Liam stared at me. He was so furious he laughed, sitting back on the sofa, lighting a cigarette, his gaze dark and brooding. “Fine, very good. You want an interview? Ask away. I’d like to see how long you can keep up this act.”
Emma Johnson pov The interview was incredibly difficult. Liam was uncooperative, even deliberately obstructive. No matter what I asked, he answered distractedly, even intentionally steering the conversation towards his personal life, trying to provoke me. “Regarding the recent rumors of a strategic alliance through marriage…” “Not interested.” Liam cut me off, suddenly leaning forward, his gaze intense. “I’m currently more interested in women who seem all prim and proper on the surface, but secretly go all out for a man. Do you have any recommendations?” As he leaned closer, the tooth mark on my collarbone, which had never faded, began to burn. I swallowed, suppressing the urge to kiss him, and continued with my questions. “What’s your take on the online rumors that members of the Smith family possess some kind of special supernatural identity?” Liam was silent for a moment. “Online speculation can’t be taken seriously. Otherwise, I’d be ruling humanity directly, not sitting here for your interview.” Honestly, I also thought those speculations were far-fetched. But suddenly, some of Liam’s oddities flashed through my mind. Like how incredibly fast he ran in high school. Like how he always seemed to take time off on the night of every full moon, claiming it was for a family dinner. And… how his eyes sometimes turned silver. I closed my notebook, refusing to let my thoughts wander further. As a journalist, I needed to be professional, not indulge in wild guesses. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Smith. I have enough material.” Just as I was about to stand up, the private room door was suddenly pushed open. A beautiful blonde woman with long, flowing hair burst in. She had a vibrant, bold beauty, completely different from mine. “Liam! I heard you were here.” Sophia Miller flung herself at Liam like a butterfly, kissing him directly on the corner of his mouth. It was Sophia Miller. Liam’s latest rumored girlfriend, the one who’d posted flirty captions on Ins. She had a wolf-head tattoo on her arm, just like the one on Liam’s chest. Probably matching couple tattoos. Liam turned his head to dodge her lips but didn’t push her away. His gaze swept over Sophia’s head, fixed on me, as if expecting my reaction. I merely glanced, giving Sophia a polite nod: “Ms. Miller, hello.” Then I turned to Liam: “Mr. Smith, since you have company, I won’t disturb you further. I’ll send you the draft for your review once it’s written.” With that, I turned and left, my steps quick, without a single lingering look. But I still heard the voices behind me. Sophia sounded a bit confused: “Liam, who was that? She seemed… odd.” He abruptly shook off Sophia’s hand, then impatiently swept the glass off the table, sending it crashing to the floor. “Get out.” Sophia jumped, startled: “Liam…” “All of you, get out!” Liam roared. The pain from the tooth mark vanished. It was all too strange, but forgive me for not wanting any more involvement with Liam. I wasn’t going to turn back to ask him about it. When I left the club, the wind outside was cold, clearing my head. Mike, the photographer, was already restless in the car. Seeing me, he quickly started the engine: “How was it? Did you get it?” “I got it.” I tossed the voice recorder into my bag, leaning back against the seat, exhausted. “Let’s head back to the office.” Back at the newsroom, I rushed to finish the article overnight. I sent the draft to Mr. Harrison, with a short message: “Task completed. Please sign off.” Mr. Harrison was probably surprised by my efficiency. He didn’t make it difficult for me and promptly approved my resignation. The moment the formalities were done, I stood outside the company building, looking at the bustling city, feeling only a sense of liberation. I sent Noah a message: “I’ve resigned.” Noah replied almost instantly: “Congratulations. To celebrate your newfound freedom, how about dinner tonight? I’ve booked a restaurant.” I thought for a moment, then replied: “Okay.” I hadn’t told anyone that I’d already bought my plane ticket to New York for the day after tomorrow. This dinner would be a farewell. A farewell to the past, and a farewell to this city.
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