The night of my twenty-fourth birthday, I wanted to invite my fiancé to dance the opening waltz. I went to the lounge to find Adrian Vance, but stopped outside the door when I heard him talking to a friend. “You clearly want to ride Isabella Moretti’s coattails to the top,” his friend said. “So why have you let her be humiliated at her own birthday party five years in a row? Watching everyone laugh at her like she’s some lovesick fool chasing after you—doesn’t that bother you at all?” Adrian’s voice was lazy. “A little.” He let out a short laugh. “But what can I do? Lily throws such a fit. I lost a bet to her.” “A bet?” “The deal was, I’d make Isabella lose face at her birthday party for six years straight. Not a year less—Lily wouldn’t have it any other way.” Adrian swirled his glass. “Isabella is the Moretti heir. Who would actually dare laugh at her? Tonight’s year six. Next year, I’ll propose to her at her birthday.” I stood outside the door, my fingers going cold inch by inch. Adrian loosened the tie from his neck. It was the engagement token I’d embroidered by hand. On the underside, hidden in the weave, was the Moretti family crest. He ran his thumb over the hidden pattern, amusement in his voice. “This tie—I’ll give it to Lily’s Gentleman later. She’ll be thrilled.” His friend went still. “Gentleman? Lily’s golden retriever?” “Yes.” Adrian’s voice dripped with indulgence. “If I don’t humor her, she’ll get another headache. Little Princess Lily can’t handle being upset.” I didn’t listen any further. I turned and walked away. When my grandfather, Vincent Moretti, handed me the family, he said one thing to me. “Bella, the Boss of the Moretti family is allowed to be weak for love no more than five times in a lifetime.” I had been weak for five years. In the sixth year, the engagement tie I’d embroidered with my own hands was about to be put on a dog. So this engagement was over. Ten minutes later, the birthday gala began. I stood at the top of the second-floor staircase. Adrian sat at the head table. Lily Vale wore a red dress and sat beside him. The golden retriever circled at their feet. “Gentleman, come here.” Adrian beckoned. The dog trotted over. In front of everyone, Adrian removed the deep blue tie and knotted it around the dog’s neck, finishing it off with a perfect Windsor. The ballroom went silent for a beat. Everyone recognized that tie. It was the engagement token given by the Moretti heir. It had no business being on a dog. Lily covered her mouth and laughed, leaning into Adrian. “Adrian, look—doesn’t he look like a proper little gentleman now?” “He really does.” Adrian stroked the dog’s head, smiling tenderly. Then he looked up at me. In the past, I would have confronted Lily on the spot. Adrian would have called me unreasonable, said I was using the Moretti name to bully her. And in the end, everyone would have waited for me to apologize. But now I knew who was really humiliating me. I gathered the hem of my gown and descended the staircase. The crowd parted. I walked straight to Adrian. Lily shrank behind him. Adrian frowned and shielded her with his body. “Isabella, it’s your birthday.” His voice was a warning. “Don’t make a scene.” I didn’t look at him. I looked only at the dog. “That’s a nice color on that tie,” I said evenly. “It suits the dog’s coat.” Adrian’s face went rigid. Lily’s smile vanished. “What did you just say?” Adrian’s voice dropped low. “I said it suits him.” I picked up a glass of red wine from a waiter’s tray and raised it toward him. “Since Mr. Vance enjoys this sort of thing, consider the tie my gift to the dog.” I turned and walked toward the head table. Behind me, Adrian shot to his feet. His chair scraped against the floor. “Isabella, don’t you walk away from me!” I didn’t stop. For Adrian Vance, I had already used up every one of the five hesitations my grandfather allowed me. In the sixth year, he fed my handmade token to a dog. These six years of engagement were finished.
After the gala ended, I returned to the penthouse apartment where Adrian had been staying. The apartment was originally prepared by the Moretti family as our future marital home. For the past several years, Adrian had lived there. The unit, the car, the security system, even the bespoke suits in his walk-in closet—all paid for with Moretti money. I gathered the work files from the coffee table into my briefcase and prepared to leave. The door swung open. Adrian walked in reeking of alcohol. He carried the scent of Lily’s gardenia perfume, and his expression was ice-cold. He yanked open his collar and tossed his jacket onto the sofa. “What was that attitude of yours at the gala tonight?” “No attitude. I simply told the truth.” “The truth?” He sneered. “Lily was just having fun. She likes the dog and thought the tie was pretty. Did you really have to embarrass her in front of all those people?” He lit a cigarette. “Do you know how long she cried tonight? She kept blaming herself, saying it was all her fault you were unhappy.” I looked at him. “Adrian, it was my birthday party.” “And?” He exhaled smoke. “You’re the Moretti princess. You have everything. Lily only has me. I was just making her happy for one moment, and you can’t even tolerate that?” Footsteps sounded outside the door. Lily walked in wearing one of Adrian’s oversized spare shirts, her eyes red-rimmed. “Adrian, please don’t fight with her because of me.” She tugged at his sleeve. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have thought the tie was pretty. I’ve just never seen anything so exquisite before.” Adrian immediately took her hand. The look he gave me turned even colder. “Did you hear that? She’s still defending you.” I looked at their interlocked fingers. Six years of devotion—it had all been a joke. “There’s another dozen ties in the entryway cabinet,” I said. “All gifts I gave you before. You can have them. Along with this apartment—consider it yours to stay in for now.” Adrian blinked, then smirked. “Isabella, are you pulling the running-away-from-home act again?” He looked at me with contempt. “Last time, you came crawling back in tears begging me to let you stay.” Lily lowered her head, the corner of her mouth curling ever so slightly. “Please don’t be angry, I’ll leave right now…” She turned to rush out. As she passed the coffee table, she deliberately clipped its corner. “Ah!” She cried out in pain and collapsed toward Adrian. Adrian caught her, then whipped around to snarl at me. “Why did you move the table so far out? Did you do this on purpose?” That table hadn’t been moved a single inch since the day it was delivered. I couldn’t be bothered to explain. Adrian carried Lily to the sofa and examined her knee. There was nothing but a faint red mark. “I’ll get the first-aid kit.” Adrian stood. As he passed me, his shoulder slammed hard into mine. I was wearing heels. My ankle twisted and I pitched sideways into the cabinet. My temple struck the corner. Searing pain exploded. Blood ran down my brow bone, dripping one drop at a time onto the floor. Adrian glanced back. “Stop faking it.” He frowned. “I barely touched you. Go get Lily an ice pack—her leg matters more.” I pressed my hand to my forehead. Blood seeped between my fingers. On the sofa, Lily watched me. Her eyes were pure provocation. I braced myself against the cabinet and stood upright. Without looking at either of them again, I walked out. The cold night air hit my face. Adrian would never know. In that moment, he had severed the very last thread connecting him to the Moretti family.
The next day. Top-floor boardroom, Moretti Group. I sat at the head of the table, white gauze taped to my forehead. The boardroom doors opened. Adrian walked in with Lily trailing behind, clutching a stack of files. He was the general manager of a Moretti subsidiary. Lily was his assistant. Adrian noticed the gauze on my forehead and his stride faltered. “What happened?” he asked, irritation in his voice. I opened the financial report. “Let’s begin, Mr. Vance. Everyone’s time is valuable.” Adrian’s face darkened. He sat down across from me. Halfway through the presentation, Lily reached over to hand Adrian his coffee. Her hand slipped. Scalding coffee splashed across the original financial statement in front of him. “I’m so sorry, Adrian, I didn’t mean to…” She immediately grabbed napkins to blot it, tears already falling. Adrian pressed her hand down. “It’s fine. It’s just a document. Don’t burn yourself.” Then he looked at me, his tone perfectly matter-of-fact. “Isabella, have your secretary reprint this.” I capped my pen. “Mr. Vance, this document has been verified by every relevant department. It bears the personal signatures and security codes of our partners’ senior executives. It is the sole authorized original. Digital backups cannot replace its legal validity.” Adrian waved his hand impatiently. “Then have the team redo the whole process. Lily was up until midnight organizing data—it was just a slip. Show some understanding.” No one in the boardroom spoke. I raised my eyes to him. “This is a workplace. Please keep the discussion professional.” “Isabella, are you targeting Lily again?” Adrian slammed the coffee-soaked document on the table. “It’s just a report. You’re supposed to be my fiancée—can’t you be the bigger person for once?” Lily stepped forward with reddened eyes. “Boss Moretti, this is all my fault. Please don’t blame Adrian… I’ll redo it right now.” As she spoke, she bent to pick up papers from the floor, letting her body sway deliberately. Adrian immediately steadied her and hissed at me: “Enough! Look at yourself right now. Where’s any of the grace a Moretti heir should have? Lily’s health is fragile—if you scare her into an episode, are you going to take responsibility?” I pressed the intercom. “Send security up.” Adrian froze. “What are you doing?” Two security officers pushed through the doors. I looked at Lily. “Lily Vale has committed gross negligence, destroying a critical corporate document and creating significant risk for the Group. She is terminated effective immediately.” Then I looked at Adrian. “Adrian Vance has blurred professional boundaries and disrupted a senior executive meeting. Effective today, all his duties are suspended. He is to go home and reflect.” Adrian let out a disbelieving laugh. “Isabella, you’d stoop to this just to make me bow? Fine. I’ll go. Let’s see who pushes the South Harbor project forward without me.” He grabbed Lily’s hand. “Lily, we’re leaving.” Lily glanced back at me, triumph flickering in her eyes. At the door, Adrian stopped. “When you learn how to be a proper fiancée, you can come beg me to come back.” The door slammed shut behind him. The wound on my forehead throbbed faintly. I fed the ruined document into the shredder and opened the next item on the agenda. “Meeting continues.” Three days later. Outside the VIP ward at City General Hospital. My grandfather’s attending physician stood before me, his expression grave. “Miss Moretti, Don Vincent’s condition is critical. He needs bypass surgery immediately. But Professor Gray is attending a classified military conference out of state—all communications are restricted.” The doctor paused. “We’ve confirmed that Mr. Vance’s private jet has special route clearances on file. It’s currently the fastest way to bring Professor Gray back.” I took out my phone. My fingertips were shaking. I dialed Adrian’s number. First attempt—he rejected the call. Second attempt—no answer. Third attempt—he finally picked up. On the other end, there was music and the sound of a crowd cheering. “What?” Adrian’s voice was clipped with impatience. “Adrian, Grandpa’s had a cardiac arrest. He’s in emergency surgery. He needs your plane to pick up Professor Gray.” I forced myself to stay calm. “I’m begging you. Arrange it now.” The line went quiet for a few seconds. Then Lily’s voice came through. “Adrian, who is it? Aren’t we supposed to go see the meteor shower tonight? If the plane gets sent away, we won’t be able to go… I’ve never seen a meteor shower in my whole life.” Adrian’s voice turned gentle, coaxing. “Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart.” A moment later, his voice came back, clear and cold. “Isabella, knock it off. This trick isn’t going to work.” I gripped the phone. “I’m not playing tricks! Grandpa is really in emergency surgery!” “Emergency surgery?” He scoffed. “Last month you said Don Vincent’s blood pressure was high. Last week you said you cut your hand slicing fruit. Isabella, the same routine loses its effect after the third time.” “Adrian, this is a human life.” “Enough.” He cut me off. “If you want me back, just say so. Don’t use an elder’s health to put on a show. I’m busy.” The call disconnected. The red light above the operating room stayed on. I held my phone, my back against the cold wall.
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