## Quinn Monroe once vowed to love Ryan Winters for the rest of her life. But when Robert, Ryan’s father, was in a life-threatening car accident, she betrayed him. She flaunted her affairs in front of him, teasing and toying with other men while holding his father’s medical bills over his head, ensuring he couldn’t leave. Eventually, Ryan’s heart broke completely. He decided he’d rather marry a woman he had no connection to—even one with a disability—than stay by Quinn’s side. But when she finally lost him for good, regret came too late. “I’ve made up my mind, Mr. James,” Ryan said, his voice steady despite the weight of his words. “If you’re still willing to cover my father’s medical costs, I’ll marry your daughter.” On the other end of the line, the middle-aged man’s excitement was barely concealed. “You’re serious? You’re really okay with her being disabled? You don’t mind?” Ryan’s response was calm, resigned. “I don’t mind.” After all, as long as his father could be saved, it didn’t matter who he married. The woman he truly loved had already given her heart to someone else. “Good, good!” Mr. James said, trying to suppress the excitement in his voice, afraid Ryan might change his mind. “Give me two weeks. I’ll wrap up my business abroad and fly back to get your father the best care possible.” “Thank you, Mr. James.” Ryan’s tone was polite but distant. After ending the call, he slowly set the phone down and glanced at the black stocking lying on the sofa. The tears in the fabric told him everything he needed to know about how wild things had gotten the night before. The pale morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over Ryan’s exhausted face. He let out a bitter laugh. Last night, while his father was in critical condition, Ryan had spent hours sitting alone outside the operating room, frantically calling Quinn. Each call went unanswered, met only with the cold sound of the line disconnecting. At first, he’d convinced himself that she was busy with work and couldn’t pick up. But returning home to find a discarded stocking on the sofa, red-bottomed stilettos tossed carelessly on the floor, and the master bedroom door tightly shut told him the truth. She wasn’t busy with work. She was busy with someone else. Ryan picked up the black stocking, walked to the bedroom door, and knocked lightly. “If you’re going to fool around, at least clean up after yourselves. Don’t leave your trash lying around where I can see it.” Without waiting for a response, he tossed the stocking onto the floor and walked away, heading for the study. Even when he heard the hurried sounds of movement behind the door, he didn’t care. Why would he? In two weeks, he’d be gone. The study was filled with pictures of Ryan and Quinn—photos they’d carefully hung on the walls together. Each frame held a moment from their six years of love, a timeline of a relationship that had once been unshakable. Tears blurred his vision as Ryan stared at the wall. He wiped his eyes, took a deep breath, and began tearing down the photos one by one. They’d met in college and fallen in love quickly. After graduation, Ryan had turned down his father’s request to return home and take over the family’s traditional medical clinic, choosing instead to stay and help Quinn build her business. When her company took off, Quinn had proposed to him the moment she tasted success. Their friends and families had called them a golden couple, a match made in heaven. But everything changed in the blink of an eye. Right before the wedding, Robert was struck by a car and left critically injured. The medical bills were astronomical, and suddenly, their passionate love began to wither under the weight of financial stress. Quinn grew resentful, blaming Robert for “dragging them down.” She became impatient with Ryan, and six months ago, she hired a young, attractive assistant who never left her side. She paraded her flirtations openly, using “work” as an excuse to spend time with the man in ways that made Ryan sick to his stomach. Ryan saw it all for what it was. He wasn’t blind. He’d thought about leaving her more times than he could count. But the cost of his father’s care was too much. Without Quinn’s financial support, Ryan couldn’t even imagine how many days his father had left. So, he swallowed his pride. He endured the humiliation. He stayed. But now, everything was different. Mr. James had promised to take on the medical bills. In two weeks, Ryan would no longer have to live under Quinn’s roof, no longer have to bow his head and endure her cruelty.
The door to the study swung open, and Quinn stormed in, her disheveled silk pajamas barely hanging on her shoulders. She snatched the photo Ryan had just torn from the wall, her voice tinged with panic. “Ryan, stop tearing them down! You’ve got it all wrong. Last night, George and I were out meeting clients. He drank too much, and I was worried about him getting home safely, so I brought him here. Nothing happened, I swear!” As if to prove her innocence, she called over George, who had just stumbled out of the bedroom, looking equally as rumpled. “Ryan, I promise it’s not what you think,” George said as he walked up, speaking in a voice so exaggeratedly sweet it was nauseating. “Quinn and I just slept in the same bed—platonically. Nothing happened.” Ryan glanced him over, his eyes cold and calculating. “Nothing happened?” he repeated, his tone dripping with mockery. “Well, Mr. George, you must be a real disappointment then. Dressed like that and still couldn’t win over your boss? So, tell me—who’s the problem here? Is it you… or is it her?” His gaze flicked to Quinn, whose face immediately darkened. “Ryan!” she snapped, her voice sharp. “George and I already explained everything. Why are you still throwing out snide remarks? Who do you think you’re impressing?” George tugged gently at Quinn’s sleeve, his voice soft and saccharine. “Don’t be so harsh on him, Quinn. He’s just upset. It’s understandable—Ryan’s never worked in the corporate world. He doesn’t get what it’s like to entertain clients. Misunderstanding us is only natural.” Ryan’s lips twitched, a bitter smile tugging at the corners. Entertain clients? He thought back to all the times he’d stood by Quinn’s side at events, supporting her every move. Back then, George was probably still in some college internship, dreaming of being noticed. Ryan stayed silent, lowering his gaze. George must have interpreted it as shame, because he pressed on, now emboldened. “But seriously, Ryan, you need to let these little things go. Quinn’s running a whole company and covering your dad’s hospital bills. She’s under a lot of pressure. You can’t keep nitpicking over every small misunderstanding.” He tilted his head slightly, his tone almost condescending. “Why don’t you apologize to her and drop this? Let’s just move on.” The confidence in George’s voice was so unshakable, so smug, that it almost felt like he believed he was the one wearing the ring on Quinn’s finger. Ryan’s eyes flicked to Quinn, searching for even the slightest hint of defense or reassurance from her. But there was none. She stood there, arms crossed, clearly waiting for him to give in. Ryan let out a long, heavy sigh. “You’re right. I’m sorry for misunderstanding.” Quinn waved her hand dismissively, as if she couldn’t be bothered with his apology. “Fine. Now, go make some hangover soup for George and me.” “Got it,” Ryan replied evenly, his tone devoid of emotion. As he turned and walked toward the kitchen, Quinn furrowed her brow slightly, an uneasy feeling creeping in. Something was… off. She remembered how, in the past, whenever something like this happened, Ryan would lose his temper—shouting, crying, fighting with her until she shut him down by reminding him of his father’s medical bills. Only then would he begrudgingly back down. But tonight, he hadn’t argued at all. He’d apologized and done what she asked without a single complaint. What’s gotten into him? Before she could dwell on it any further, George’s arm slid around her waist, pulling her close. “George, stop it,” Quinn said, brushing his hand off with a light slap. “He’s still here.” “Fine,” George pouted, his voice playful. “But how about we book a room tonight, just the two of us?” Quinn laughed softly and tapped him on the nose. “Alright, alright. You win.” Standing in the kitchen, Ryan overheard every word of their exchange. He froze, his hand gripping the counter, his knuckles white. He had always suspected their relationship was more than just professional, but hearing it laid out so plainly still felt like a knife to the chest. He wiped at his eyes, forcing back the tears. It’s fine, he told himself. I’ll be gone soon anyway.
Ryan placed the bowl of hangover soup on the dining table, ready to retreat to his room and finally get some rest. But Quinn grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. “You called me so many times last night. Was something wrong?” Ryan froze mid-step, his body stiffening. For a moment, he couldn’t bring himself to answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, and his eyes turned red. “Last night… my father was in critical condition.” Quinn fell silent for a few seconds. Then, without saying a word, she picked up her phone and transferred $50,000 to Ryan’s bank account. “This should cover your dad’s expenses for the next month,” she said. A rare flicker of guilt crossed her face. “Tonight, I’ll go with you to visit him.” It was the first time in six months that Quinn had voluntarily offered to see Robert. Maybe she felt bad for ignoring his calls the night before. Ryan hesitated, debating how to politely refuse, but George jumped in before he could say anything. “Quinn, don’t forget—you’ve got that meeting tonight,” George said, giving her an exaggerated wink, clearly hinting at their “appointment.” Ryan seized the opportunity and replied, “You should take care of your work. I’ll go by myself. He hasn’t woken up yet anyway—your visit wouldn’t make a difference.” Quinn’s eyes flicked to George’s toned figure, and her resolve wavered. Clearly unwilling to give up her evening plans with him, she sighed and pretended to be concerned. “Alright. But be careful, and let me know if you need more money.” Ryan nodded. “Got it. I’ll go rest now.” He instinctively headed toward the master bedroom but stopped dead in his tracks when he remembered the events of the previous night. Just thinking about what had happened in there—Quinn and George, tangled up in those sheets—made his stomach turn. He stood outside the door for a couple of seconds, his hand hovering over the doorknob, before he turned around and walked to the guest room instead. If the bed was dirty, there was no need to force himself to sleep in it. Ryan fell into a deep sleep and dreamed of the past—back when he and Quinn had first met. In his dream, there was the nervous excitement of their first kiss, the way her cheeks would flush whenever their eyes met. He remembered their arguments, too, and how Quinn would soften her voice to gently coax him out of his anger. And then there were the good times, like the year she saved up for months to surprise him with a birthday gift he’d casually mentioned wanting. When he woke, tears were streaming down his face. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the floor. How had it come to this? They had been so in love once. Was it really just his father’s illness that had broken them? Or had Quinn’s feelings faded long before that? His thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of his phone. Several new messages popped up on the screen. They were from George. Ryan hesitated before opening them. When he finally did, his blood ran cold. The photos showed a man and a woman locked in a passionate kiss. It only took a second for Ryan to recognize the woman’s familiar figure—it was Quinn. It was a blatant taunt. Ryan exhaled slowly, forcing himself to remain calm. He didn’t respond. Instead, he turned off his phone and began packing his belongings. The years had left him with a collection of small, scattered items, but he didn’t want to leave anything behind when he left in two weeks. No traces. No memories. For three days, Quinn didn’t come home. Ryan didn’t care. But on the fourth evening, she suddenly texted him, asking him to accompany her to a business dinner. Ryan had no intention of going, but Quinn mentioned that Mr. Walker, a major investor who had helped her during the early days of her company, had specifically requested that Ryan attend. Out of respect for Mr. Walker, Ryan reluctantly agreed. When Ryan arrived at the restaurant, George was already waiting at the entrance. With a smug grin, George handed Ryan an outfit—a sleek, fitted shirt with an intricate cutout design. “Here, Mr. Winters. Change into this before you go in. We wouldn’t want you embarrassing Quinn.” Ryan glanced at the shirt, then back at George, his expression cold. “And who do you think you are to tell me what to wear?” George’s smile faltered, but he quickly recovered, pouting dramatically. “I’m just trying to help! You don’t want to look cheap in front of important people, do you?” Ryan’s lips curled into a faint smirk, his voice sharp. “If I embarrass anyone, that’s my problem—not yours.” Without another word, he brushed past George and headed toward the private dining room. The moment Ryan stepped into the room, Quinn’s expression soured. She was seated near the door, and her displeasure was obvious. “What are you wearing?” she hissed under her breath, her tone dripping with irritation. At the head of the table, Mr. Walker—an older man with a gruff demeanor—looked Ryan up and down, the disappointment clear on his face. “Quinn,” Mr. Walker drawled, leaning back in his chair with a mocking smile. “Your boyfriend’s really changed, hasn’t he?”
Quinn immediately plastered on a fake smile. “Oh, Mr. Walker, I’m so sorry you had to see him like this. Ryan, hurry up and pour Mr. Walker a drink.” Ryan silently grabbed the bottle and began pouring. As he did, George slipped into the room, leaning down to whisper something in Quinn’s ear. Whatever he said made Quinn’s face turn pale with fury. If it weren’t for the important guests in the room, she probably would’ve exploded on the spot. “Ryan,” Mr. Walker said, his tone laced with mockery, “it’s been so long since I’ve seen you. What happened? You look so… worn down. Is Quinn too busy running her empire to take care of you properly?” Ryan’s worn outfit and tired face—aged prematurely by sleepless nights—stood in stark contrast to George’s sharp, tailored suit and confident demeanor. The comparison was humiliating, and the jab cut deep. “Here’s your drink, Mr. Walker,” Ryan said evenly, placing the glass down without meeting her gaze. But Mr. Walker wasn’t done. “Don’t go anywhere! Sit here, next to me.” Before he could walk away, her clammy hand clamped down on his shoulder, forcing him back into the seat. Across the table, Quinn glanced at the scene but didn’t lift a finger to intervene. Ryan gritted his teeth and sat down. After a few rounds of drinks, Mr. Walker’s wandering hand started inching toward Ryan. He flinched and quickly stood up. “Excuse me, I need to use the restroom.” He barely made it out of the room before Quinn followed him, grabbing his arm. “Where are you going?” she snapped, her nails digging into his skin. Ryan turned, his expression a mix of disbelief and anger. “Quinn, what are you doing?” She folded her arms, her voice low but firm. “The company’s negotiating a major deal with Mr. Walker. I need you to stay and make sure she’s happy. Just play along.” Ryan stared at her, stunned. “Are you serious? You dragged me here to use me as some kind of bargaining chip?” “Don’t say it like that,” Quinn muttered, her voice dropping to a whisper. “All I’m asking is for you to keep her entertained. I’m not asking you to sleep with her.” Ryan let out a bitter laugh. “Funny. When you first started this business, you wouldn’t even let me pour someone a drink. Now you’re fine with me being groped in front of you?” His voice cracked. “Quinn, do you even care about me anymore? Even a little?” Quinn’s lips curled into a smirk, as if he’d just told a joke. “If I didn’t care about you, Ryan, I would’ve let your father die a year ago. Do you think keeping him alive was free? Do you think the money I’ve given you for his medical bills grows on trees?” Her voice turned icy. “Let me make this clear: if you don’t go back in there and make Mr. Walker happy, I’ll take back the $50,000 I just sent you.” Each word hit him like a blow. Ryan’s hands trembled as he clenched his fists at his sides. “Fine. I’ll do it,” he said through gritted teeth. Pushing down the humiliation, Ryan straightened his back and walked back into the private room. But as he opened the door, he froze. Mr. Walker, now visibly drunk, had one arm draped over George’s shoulders. “You’re Quinn’s secretary, right?” she slurred, giggling. “You’re way better looking than her boyfriend. So much more my type.” George tensed, his face turning red as he glanced at Quinn for help. Quinn stormed into the room behind Ryan, her face twisting with rage. She immediately pulled George away from Mr. Walker’s grasp. “What the hell are you doing?” she shouted, her voice cutting through the room. Mr. Walker blinked, startled. “What’s your problem? I barely touched him.” Quinn’s eyes blazed. “You think you can just put your hands on my secretary?!” Mr. Walker’s drunken confusion turned to anger. She let out a bitter laugh. “You’re something else, Quinn. I’ve been touching your boyfriend all night, and you didn’t say a word. But the moment I lay a hand on your secretary, you lose it?!” The room fell silent as the weight of her words settled. Quinn’s jaw tightened, her eyes darting toward George, who was still flustered and avoiding her gaze. Mr. Walker’s laughter turned cold. “Well, guess what? That deal you wanted? Forget it.”
“I don’t need it anyway.” Quinn scoffed, spitting the words out like venom. She grabbed George’s hand and stormed out of the restaurant, but not before calling Ryan to follow along behind them. Outside, as they waited for the car to pull up, Quinn simultaneously comforted a visibly shaken George, who was trembling in her arms, while throwing blame in Ryan’s direction. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t made such a scene and left the room,” she snapped. “If you’d just stayed, George wouldn’t have had to deal with that creep.” Ryan stood motionless beside them, the chilly autumn wind brushing through his hair. For the first time, he felt the city’s fall air truly bite. It was colder than he’d ever remembered it. George, clinging to Quinn like a frightened rabbit, buried his face in her shoulder, his tears streaming down in dramatic streaks. “I’m fine, Quinn,” George sniffled, his voice trembling. “Don’t be mad at Ryan. He didn’t mean for this to happen.” Ryan said nothing, his gaze fixed on them in silence. After a moment, Quinn seemed to calm down. “George works for my company. He’s fresh out of college, completely inexperienced. As his boss, it’s my responsibility to protect him. Otherwise, how could I explain this to his family?” “Of course,” Ryan replied simply, his tone devoid of emotion. He let the ache in his chest simmer, unaddressed. It doesn’t matter anymore, he thought. In ten days, I’ll be gone. Let her do whatever she wants. When the car arrived, Ryan climbed into the passenger seat without a word, leaving the backseat for Quinn and her precious George. “Take us to the Westwood Hotel first,” Quinn instructed the driver. Only then did she glance at Ryan, as if suddenly remembering to explain herself. “I need to drop George off at his hotel before I can head home with you.” “Sure,” Ryan murmured, leaning back against the seat, his eyes closed. The alcohol he’d consumed earlier had started to hit, and his stomach churned with a dull, persistent ache. Ryan wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep when the driver shook him gently. “Mr. Winters, Quinn said she had something to take care of and left.” “Alright,” Ryan replied flatly. He grabbed his bag, the sound of his black coat brushing against the leather seat filling the quiet car, and stepped out. Walking into the house, he wasn’t surprised to find his phone empty of any messages from Quinn. He didn’t need to ask where she’d gone—he already knew. She was with George. And yet, even though he was counting down the days until he’d finally leave her behind, the knowledge of her devotion to another man sliced through him like a knife. After taking a long, scalding shower, Ryan heard his phone buzz. He picked it up, expecting nothing of importance, but what he saw made his blood boil. It was a photo from George. Unlike the last time George had sent pictures meant to taunt him, this one didn’t spark sadness—it ignited rage. Quinn, in an effort to appease George, had given him the jade pendant. That pendant wasn’t just any piece of jewelry. It was the Winters family heirloom, passed down through generations. It symbolized peace, love, and eternal partnership. Quinn had received it from Robert as a wedding gift—a gesture of welcoming her into the family. And now, she’d handed it off to another man, as if it were nothing more than a cheap trinket. This was the only thing my father entrusted to me. If his condition doesn’t improve, it will be the last thing I have to remember him by. Ryan clenched his fists, his chest heaving. Without hesitation, he called for a cab and headed straight to the Westwood Hotel. Ryan didn’t know George’s room number, so he knocked on door after door, ignoring the glares and insults from annoyed hotel guests. Finally, on the fourteenth try, he heard Quinn’s voice behind the door. When she opened it and saw Ryan standing there, her face immediately darkened. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “Where’s the jade pendant?” Ryan pushed past her, stumbling into the room. His voice cracked with desperation. “Give it back to me!” Quinn barely had time to react before Ryan turned to face George, who was sitting on the bed, clutching the blanket like a frightened child. “That pendant belongs to my family,” Ryan said, his voice shaking. “It’s not yours to take. Hand it over!” “Quinn, I’m scared,” George whimpered, looking to her for rescue.
Quinn stepped forward, grabbing Ryan’s wrist and yanking him back. “It’s just a piece of jade, Ryan. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?” Ryan’s voice broke as he snapped, “My father is lying in a hospital bed, unconscious, and you’re using the one thing he gave you to bribe another man. Do you even have a conscience?” For a moment, Quinn looked startled, but the fleeting vulnerability quickly vanished, replaced by her usual indifference. “Do you think keeping your father alive is free?” she spat. “I’ve spent a fortune on his medical bills. Don’t I deserve to use that pendant however I see fit?” Ryan’s eyes burned with tears of frustration. “Don’t forget—I gave up everything for you. I transferred all my shares to your name because you promised to take care of my father. And now you’re acting like it’s all your money?” “Stop being so dramatic.” Quinn rolled her eyes and shoved him back. Ryan stumbled and fell to the cold, hard floor. “Give it back!” Ryan shouted, scrambling to his feet. He lunged toward George, determined to find the pendant himself. “Don’t touch me!” George screeched, flailing his arms as the two struggled. Quinn’s expression hardened. Without hesitation, she kicked Ryan square in the stomach, sending him sprawling to the ground. The pain was immediate and excruciating. Ryan clutched his abdomen, gasping for air as cold sweat drenched his face. For a brief moment, Quinn hesitated, guilt flickering across her face. But just as she started to move toward him, George tugged at her arm, his voice trembling. “Quinn, I don’t feel well,” he whispered, his eyes wide and pleading. Her focus shifted instantly. “Where does it hurt?” she asked, her voice laced with concern. She forgot about Ryan entirely, fussing over George like a doting mother. “Ryan!” she barked suddenly, turning back to him. “You’re from a family of doctors, aren’t you? Come check on George.” Ryan looked up at her, his face pale and his body trembling from the pain. “Do it,” she snapped. “If something happens to George, don’t forget—your father’s health depends on me.” Ryan stared at her, the last shred of warmth he felt for her crumbling into nothingness. He forced himself to his feet and staggered toward George. Gritting his teeth, he reached out to take George’s pulse. After a long pause, Ryan muttered, “He’s fine.” “Are you sure?” George whined, clutching Quinn’s hand. Quinn glared at Ryan, clearly dissatisfied with his answer. “Just go home,” she said sharply. “I’ll deal with you later.” Ryan didn’t argue. “Give me the pendant,” he said, his voice flat. “It’s not even that valuable,” George chimed in, pulling the pendant from under his pillow and tossing it carelessly at Ryan’s feet. “I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with it.” Ryan scrambled to pick it up, but it was too late. The jade pendant hit the floor and shattered into pieces. As he knelt there, staring at the fragments, tears streamed down his face.
“You can go home now,” Quinn said, her brow furrowed as she stepped in front of George, shielding him like he was some fragile treasure. “I’ll find someone to fix the jade pendant later.” “There’s no later,” Ryan said, his voice trembling. He slipped the shattered pendant into his pocket, leaning against the doorframe for support before staggering out of the hotel room. Quinn watched his hunched figure disappear into the hallway. For a brief moment, a strange pang of unease tightened in her chest. What did he mean by ‘there’s no later’? She shrugged it off just as quickly as the thought came. It’s just one of his tantrums. Give it a few days, and he’ll get over it like always. With a dismissive shake of her head, she turned her attention back to George, who was wrapped tightly in her arms. The two cuddled sweetly, while across town, Ryan walked home alone, tears streaming down his face. When Ryan got home, the first thing he did was swallow a painkiller. The ache in his stomach—whether from Quinn’s kick or the emotional toll—refused to subside. For the next three days, he was bedridden, the pain locking him in a prison of physical and emotional torment. By the fourth morning, the pain had finally begun to ease. Opening his eyes, Ryan was surprised to find Quinn sitting on the edge of the bed. Unlike him, pale and worn from the sleepless nights, Quinn looked radiant. Her energy was reminiscent of the days when they were first in love, back when she still cared. “You’re awake? Good,” she said briskly, showing no concern for his condition. “I need to talk to you about something important.” Ryan sat up slowly, his body still weak. “What is it?” “It’s about George,” Quinn said, her tone casual. “He’s had some bad luck. His ex-girlfriend cheated on him, and he doesn’t want his family to worry. So, he asked me to pretend to be his girlfriend for dinner with his parents. You don’t mind, do you?” Ryan froze for a moment, his lips curling into a bitter smile. She’s not even trying to come up with believable lies anymore. “I don’t mind,” he said softly, his voice barely audible. “I knew you’d understand,” Quinn said, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on his forehead. “You’re always so considerate.” She stood to leave, but paused at the door. “Oh, and next month on your birthday, I’ll make sure to spend the whole day with you. We’ll visit your dad together, okay?” Ryan’s eyelashes fluttered, his gaze dropping to the bedsheets. Next month? Quinn, I’ll be gone in five days. The words sat heavy on his tongue, but before he could say anything, Quinn’s phone rang. “Quinn, my parents showed up early. I don’t know what to do!” George’s panicked voice echoed through the speaker. Quinn barely hesitated. “I’ll be right there,” she said, grabbing her purse and heading for the door. She didn’t look back. Ryan watched her leave, the door slamming shut behind her. For the next four days, she didn’t come home. George, however, made sure to send Ryan a steady stream of taunting texts. But Ryan felt nothing—his heart was numb now. On the morning of his departure, Ryan received a text from Mr. James. “The car will pick you up at 9 PM tonight.” Ryan replied with a simple, “Got it,” and began packing the last of his belongings. Around 10 AM, a package arrived at the door. Curious, Ryan opened it to find a familiar necklace inside—Emerald Dream, the one Quinn had once gifted him. Back when they were in love, Quinn had spent $500,000 on the piece, knowing how much Ryan adored it. But when his father fell ill, Ryan sold it on Quinn’s suggestion to cover the hospital bills. His hands trembled as he held the necklace. Did Quinn buy it back?
For the first time in years, a faint flicker of hope stirred in his chest. But it was quickly extinguished when his phone rang. “Mr. Winters,” George’s smug voice greeted him. “That package you just signed for? Quinn accidentally sent it to the wrong address. Could you bring it to the New Haven Hotel? She needs it for something urgent.” Ryan paused for a long moment before replying, “Sure, I’ll bring it.” Ryan took a cab to the New Haven Hotel, the necklace tucked safely in its box. But as the cab pulled up to the entrance, his breath caught in his throat. A massive banner hung over the entrance, displaying a photo of Quinn and George. The text beneath it read: “C&E Engagement Party.” Ryan’s vision blurred as tears welled up in his eyes. So this is what she needed the necklace for. A hotel staff member escorted him to the event hall. At the door of the bridal suite, he ran into Quinn and George’s mother. “Oh, who’s this?” George’s mother asked, her brows furrowing in suspicion. Quinn’s eyes widened slightly, her gaze darting nervously between Ryan and the older woman. “He’s… he’s my driver,” she said quickly, her voice trembling slightly. “Why don’t you head back inside, ma’am? I’ll handle this.” Without waiting for a response, Quinn grabbed Ryan’s arm and pulled him into a quiet corner. “Why are you here?” she hissed. Ryan chuckled bitterly. “Your ‘driver’?” he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “Six years together, and now I’m just your driver?” Quinn ignored the jab, her tone sharp. “I asked you a question. Why are you here?” Ryan held up the necklace. “George said you needed this for something. Congratulations, by the way.” “You’ve got it all wrong,” Quinn said quickly. “This engagement party—it’s not real. I told you, I’m just pretending to be George’s girlfriend.” Ryan’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Pretending? You’re using the engagement plan we created for our wedding. The same decorations, the same fireworks. Is that part of the act too?” Quinn’s eyes flickered with guilt for a moment, but she quickly recovered. “It’s just a coincidence. Why don’t you believe me?” Ryan stared at her for a long moment, tears silently rolling down his cheeks. Finally, he nodded. “Fine. If you say it’s fake, it’s fake.” Relieved, Quinn smiled. “I’ll explain everything when this is over, okay? Just go home for now.” Ryan nodded again, too tired to argue. As Ryan left the hotel, his phone buzzed with another text from George. The photo showed George wearing the necklace, his arms wrapped around Quinn. “Quinn says only I deserve this necklace. She’s always loved me, you know. Oh, and once we’re married, she’s cutting off your dad’s medical bills. Makes sense, right? After all, I’m way more useful than your half-dead father.” Ryan closed the message, his chest heaving with quiet sobs. It’s over, he thought. We’re done. Later that night, as fireworks lit up the sky—part of the engagement celebration Ryan and Quinn had once planned for their own wedding—Ryan received two texts. One from Mr. James: “The car is outside.” And one from Quinn: “Sorry, I’m too busy tonight. I’ll come home tomorrow to explain everything.” Ryan typed a brief reply: “Don’t bother.” Then, with a deep breath, he deleted her number, blocked her on every platform, and stepped into the car. As the vehicle pulled away, Ryan glanced one last time at the house he had called home. Goodbye, Quinn. We’ll never see each other again. The cityscape blurred as the car sped off, taking Ryan toward a future where Quinn no longer existed.
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