“Aunt Carol, I’ve made up my mind. I’m ready to leave the Hayes family and come live with you overseas.” On the other end of the line, Aunt Carol’s voice bubbled with pure joy, her words a rapid-fire string of eager advice. “Perfect, Aria! I’ll get your visa sorted right away, it should take about a month. Use this time to hang out with your friends and classmates. Once you’re settled in New Zealand, it’ll be tough to see them again, so make sure you catch up properly and say your goodbyes.” “And especially your Uncle Jasper. He practically raised you. You owe him so much for everything, don’t forget to thank him properly.” I mumbled a quiet ‘okay’ a few times. As soon as the call disconnected, I got up from the balcony, drifting back into the living room. My eyes automatically fell on the framed photo sitting on the coffee table. In the picture, the sunset sky was blazing orange and pink, painting both our faces with a soft, warm glow. Seventeen-year-old Jasper stood under the swing set, a wide smile on his face as he gently pushed seven-year-old me. My little dress billowed around me in the breeze, brushing against the bright tulips in the garden. Even after all these years, I could still feel the sheer joy I’d felt the day that picture was taken. But time changes everything, doesn’t it? Jasper and I? We could never go back to that. Not anymore.
A pang of sadness flashed in my eyes at the thought, and I averted my gaze, looking far into the distance, back to a time even more distant. The Sterling and Beaumont families had been close for generations. Adrian Beaumont was ten years my senior. By family custom, I’d called him Uncle Adrian since I was a child. When I was seven, my parents died in a tragic plane crash. Adrian took me in, raising me in the Beaumont family estate. Perhaps it was out of pity for my early loss, but he kept me by his side constantly, personally tending to my every need . He’d tell me stories to coax me to sleep every night, personally driving me to and from school, rain or shine. He bought me every new and interesting toy he saw. Day by day, bit by bit, he nurtured the tiny sprout he brought home into a graceful young woman. Because of his gentle care, I clung to him from a young age. By the innocent age of a teenage girl, it felt only natural, an undeniable pull, that I fell in love with the man who had watched me grow up. When I turned seventeen, Adrian, as was tradition, threw me a grand birthday party. During the banquet, he drank too much, and I helped him to his room to rest. Seeing the man I loved right there, I couldn’t resist leaning down and kissing him. The next second, Adrian’s eyes snapped open, and he immediately pushed me to the other side of the sofa. Confused, I mistook this for a golden opportunity and seized the moment to confess my feelings. But to Adrian, these were nothing short of insane words. He found it absurd and flew into a rage. “Me! Do you even realize I’m your *uncle*?!” “I call you Uncle, but my last name is Sterling, and yours is Beaumont. We’re not blood relatives.” Seeing me so lost in my infatuation, Adrian’s face darkened. “I’m a full ten years older than you! You’re only seventeen; you can’t tell the difference between familial affection and love, and you certainly don’t understand what ‘liking’ someone means!” I always listened to him, but on this matter, I was exceptionally stubborn. “So you’re rejecting me because I’m too young? That’s fine, I’ll grow up. I’ll prove to you that I know the difference between love and affection, and I understand what liking someone truly means!” I no longer remember how that argument ended. But from then on, every year on my birthday, I would confess my feelings to him again. Adrian would reject me every year, but I never once considered giving up. My twenty-first birthday was just a month away. But this year, I wasn’t planning on confessing again. Because a month ago, Adrian brought his girlfriend home and introduced her to me. A profound sadness settled in my heart, yet I forced back my tears and asked if he was trying to provoke me with a girlfriend, to make me give up hope. Adrian glanced at me indifferently, his voice icy. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m of age; having a girlfriend is perfectly normal.” The calm composure in his eyes pierced me deeply. I cried all night, my mind a chaotic mess, replaying everything that had happened over the years. At dawn, my aunt, who lived abroad, sent me a Snapchat message. “Clara, do you want to move here and live with me?” “Honestly, when your parents first passed, I wanted to take you in, but my career wasn’t stable then, and I was struggling with postpartum depression. I was a bit overwhelmed and had to put it off. You’re grown up now, and it’s not convenient for you to stay with the Beaumonts. My life here has also settled down, so would you be willing to come and reunite with my family?” I didn’t reply to the message. I didn’t want to leave Adrian; I wanted to try just a little longer. But for the past two weeks, as if to rub it in, he kept bringing his girlfriend, Penelope Thorne, into my orbit. Holding hands, hugging, kissing—they did all the intimate things only couples do. Last night, he even had Penelope stay the night. He led me back to my room, then went to his. I sat numbly downstairs until three in the morning before the light in his room finally went out, and I heard muffled, intimate sounds from within. I clamped my hand over my mouth, silent tears streaming down, soaking the sofa. In that moment, I finally decided to give up. To give up on Adrian. Footsteps suddenly echoed from outside the door, breaking my reverie. I looked up, meeting Adrian’s gaze. Seeing me sitting alone at the dining table, he instinctively checked the clock on the wall—almost eleven. He frowned almost imperceptibly but said nothing, simply heading upstairs. Not a single greeting, cold as a stranger. A bitter ache tightened around my heart, but I couldn’t stop myself from calling out to him. “Adrian, dinner…” Adrian didn’t pause. His voice was distant. “Penelope and I already ate. I’ve told you many times, you don’t have to wait for me.” The heavy thud of his closing door swallowed the last syllable. My heart jolted with it, my eyes stinging. Adrian never used to speak to me in that tone. He knew I was scared of being alone after losing my family and hated eating by myself. No matter how busy he was with studies or work, he’d rush back to eat with me. Even when he traveled abroad, he’d always return quickly, just so I wouldn’t lose my appetite or get sick. For over a decade, there was never an exception—until now. But after my first confession, everything changed. He started actively keeping his distance, constantly working late or traveling to avoid seeing me. He stopped getting me surprise gifts, withdrawing all the special affection he used to shower on me. And after Penelope appeared, his gaze toward me grew even colder, like that of a stranger. I understood why, but I was powerless. I could only pick up my forks and stab at the cooling food, swallowing it, tasteless as cardboard. A table laden with various dishes, yet all I could taste was bitterness. When I’d had enough, I cleaned everything up before walking to his door and knocking softly. Adrian opened the door with a frown, his tone far from pleasant. “Didn’t I tell you not to bother me unless it’s important?” I pressed my lips together, intertwining my fingers. “Uncle Adrian, I’d like to change rooms.” A flicker of surprise crossed Adrian’s eyes, but he didn’t dwell on it. “Change if you want to.” I nodded, silently turning back to my bedroom. Looking at the large French doors, the exquisite furniture, and the walk-in closet overflowing with clothes, shoes, and bags, a sense of unreality washed over me. This bedroom was the largest and brightest in the entire villa; it used to be Adrian’s. The day I moved into the Beaumont house, he’d offered it to me, ruffling my hair and saying, “Our Clara is a princess; she deserves the best room.” Now I was leaving, and Penelope might move in any day. What right did I, a mere adopted ward, have to occupy the master bedroom, which belonged to the true owner? That’s why I suggested changing rooms—first, to make space, and second, to clear out my belongings. The next afternoon, I moved all my things to the small room at the end of the hallway, which used to be Adrian’s study. After tidying up the room, I took my documents downstairs to apply for a visa. Passing through the living room, I gave a slight nod, not greeting him with the same warmth as before. Adrian was clearly unused to my quiet demeanor. Seeing me walk out with my head down, silent and compliant, he felt I’d changed so much. He couldn’t help but call out. “It’s snowing heavily outside. Where are you going? Shall I take you?” It had been so long since he’d offered to drive me that I was momentarily stunned. “It’s Christmas Day. Aren’t you going on a date?” I mumbled softly. Adrian didn’t quite catch it and asked again. “What?” My hand balled into a fist, and I lowered my gaze. “Yesterday, I saw on the news that you bought a diamond necklace worth millions at an auction. You must be planning to give it to Penelope today, right?” Adrian froze, blurting out instinctively, “That was for…” The doorbell chimed, interrupting him. A moment later, Penelope walked in, elegant in a knitted dress, her long, curled hair falling to her waist, her makeup flawless. She linked her arm through Adrian’s, her voice sweet and playful. “Adrian, I’ve got your Christmas present! Guess what it is?” Everything was just as I’d imagined. I lowered my head, a bitter smile touching my lips. Perhaps because I’d already decided to leave, hearing about their date didn’t sting as much as it used to. I simply stepped back a few paces, making way. Adrian offered no further explanation. He led Penelope out, and then, as an afterthought, called me along. “Don’t wander off. Tell me where you’re going, and I’ll take you.” I paused, then quietly agreed. “Thank you, Uncle Adrian.” This time, my thanks were genuine. And so was my address to him: Uncle Adrian. 3. I usually didn’t go out much, spending most of my time cooped up in my art studio. This blizzard, however, had me out and about, piquing Penelope’s curiosity. “Clara, you don’t have a boyfriend. What are you doing out in this weather?” Unsure how to tell them I was leaving, I simply said, “I… have some errands to run.” Anyway, they’d probably figure it out once the car reached the visa office. Penelope didn’t press further, turning to chat with Adrian about their day’s plans. They chatted animatedly, seemingly forgetting I was sitting in the back. At a red light, Penelope took out a tube of lipstick and asked Adrian to touch up her makeup. He didn’t refuse, cupping her face, his movements gentle and meticulous. As they leaned in, almost touching, I turned my head to look at the swirling snow outside the window. Just as we were nearing our destination, Penelope suddenly said she wanted to go home and grab a jacket. Seeing that the navigation showed only two miles left, Adrian, without a second thought, declared it was out of the way and told me to hail another cab. I offered a bitter smile but said nothing, getting out of the car alone. The black Porsche Cayenne sped away, kicking up a trail of snow. There wasn’t a soul or a car in sight. I trudged through the snow, walking two miles to the visa office, and submitted all my documents. When I finished and stepped out, I ran into my high school teacher, Mr. Harrison, at the entrance. We exchanged a few pleasantries. Hearing I was moving abroad, Mr. Harrison’s face showed surprise. “You’re leaving the country and not planning to come back? Will Adrian agree to that?” I don’t know why I suddenly brought up Adrian, so I just spun a lie. “He agreed. Adrian and I aren’t blood relatives, and I’m grown up now. I can’t always bother him. It’ll be good to see more of the world.” Mr. Harrison nodded wistfully, filled with emotion. “Even without blood ties, Mr. Beaumont has truly been exceptional to you. Remember when you competed, and some kids from another school falsely accused you of plagiarism? Adrian had just come off the operating table for appendicitis, but he rushed to the competition to support you. When you fell at school, he dropped a multi-million dollar deal to take you to the hospital. When you were being harassed by those troublemakers, Adrian had them taken care of…” Listening to Mr. Harrison recount past events, my thoughts drifted back. Finally, Mr. Harrison clasped my hand, earnestly advising me to never forget Adrian’s kindness and to repay him well. I nodded silently. I had indeed made up my mind: before I left, I would repay all his kindness from these years. And for him, perhaps the greatest repayment I could give him was the news of my departure. That way, he would never have to worry about me clinging to him again. Back home, I changed out of my snow-soaked clothes and sat at my desk, beginning to calculate my expenses. Having lived in the Beaumont household for so many years, I’d paid attention to my monthly spending, quickly estimating a rough total. Besides specific expenditures, there were many intangible costs that were hard to quantify, so I decided to return three times that amount. That morning, I had already gathered all the gifts Adrian had ever given me and listed them on eBay. Afterward, I contacted a real estate company and put the old Sterling family mansion on the market. Once all that was done, I lay on my bed with a sense of relief. My phone suddenly vibrated a few times. I opened it to see over a dozen photos from Penelope, along with a message. “Clara, Adrian and I are going to Hawaii for a few days. Be a good girl at home, okay?” I didn’t even need to open them; I knew they were photos of Adrian and Penelope showing off their affection. Ever since they went public with their relationship, Penelope sent a stack of such photos after every date. In the past, seeing these photos would make me lose sleep, crying until my eyes were red and swollen. But now, having decided to only view Adrian as family, Penelope’s provocations no longer affected me. As for whether she was doing it intentionally or not, I couldn’t be bothered to guess. I replied calmly, “Okay, have fun.” 4. Five days later, Adrian returned with Penelope. The moment they stepped through the door, my eyes were drawn to the dazzling necklace around her neck. I only glanced at it before lowering my gaze. I hadn’t been wrong; that necklace was indeed for her. So what had Adrian been trying to say with his hesitation that day? In front of Adrian, Penelope always acted warmly towards me. She came forward and took my hand. “Clara, you must have been so bored alone at home these past few days. I bought so many things; come see if there’s anything you like!” She spoke, shedding her jacket, and pulled me towards a pile of boxes. I shook my head, refusing repeatedly. Penelope gave me a chiding look, her tone subtly meaningful. “Why are you being so polite? Just think of it as a gift from your future Aunt Penelope, okay?” Hearing the words “Aunt Penelope,” I instinctively looked up, and my eyes landed on a large patch of hickeys on her neck and shoulder. My heart gave a tiny jolt. One of the photos Penelope had sent showed the camera directly aimed at a hotel bed; I hadn’t understood why at the time. Now, seeing these intimate marks, I instantly understood and lowered my gaze, saying nothing more. Penelope unwrapped a box for me, then began talking about an evening event. “Adrian, it’s Miss Albright’s coming-of-age party tonight. Let’s bring Clara along. Our ages aren’t that far apart; she should have someone to chat with.” I was startled by the mention of a party. Adrian hadn’t taken me to any formal events since my parents passed and I moved into the Beaumont house. It was simply because some people liked to gossip behind my back, calling me a parasite. This time, Adrian still shook his head, not agreeing. Penelope wrapped her arms around his, pouting and saying she’d be bored alone, insisting I come with her. Adrian didn’t resist further, agreeing with a helpless but indulgent expression. Seeing their intimacy, I lowered my head, a faint smile on my lips. In Adrian’s world, Penelope truly was special. He would abandon all his previous boundaries for her. It seemed Adrian genuinely loved Penelope. As long as he was happy, even if I wasn’t the one by his side, I could leave with a clear conscience. At the party, glasses clinked and pleasantries were exchanged. I stood alone in a corner, quietly sipping my juice as I watched Adrian drink countless glasses of wine on Penelope’s behalf. A few girls walked by, laughing, and accidentally spilled red wine on me, apologizing profusely. I didn’t take it to heart and headed to the restroom to clean up. Before leaving, I handed my phone and bag to Adrian. Ten minutes later, when I returned, I saw him frowning at me, his voice strangely strained. “Your aunt just called, asking if you were free. I said you were busy, and I told her I’d call back later.” Hearing the word “aunt,” my entire body tensed. Fortunately, she hadn’t mentioned anything about moving abroad, and my posture relaxed considerably. Adrian, of course, noticed my unusual reaction and couldn’t help but ask, “When did you get back in touch with your aunt?” “Two weeks ago. I needed her to send me some photos of my grandparents.” I casually made an excuse. Adrian seemed to let out a breath, no longer suspicious, and turned to adjust Penelope’s disheveled hair. I took back my phone and bag, turning to go back to my corner. The next second, a towering champagne pyramid was accidentally knocked over, crashing directly towards Penelope and me. “Watch out!” Adrian, being closest, instinctively pulled Penelope to safety first, shielding her in his arms. *BANG!!!* With a deafening crash, the champagne pyramid collapsed, violently striking me where I stood, unable to react in time. Shattered glass flew everywhere. I lay on the ground, blood gushing, quickly staining my white dress, a truly horrifying sight. The sudden accident startled everyone present. Penelope, though unharmed, was crying from shock. Looking at me, bloody on the floor, and Penelope, crying in his arms, Adrian hesitated only for a moment before making his decision again. “Take her to the hospital.” He instructed a nearby bodyguard, then swept Penelope into his arms and carried her out. It wasn’t until they vanished from sight that I, amidst a chorus of pitying gazes, stumbled to my feet. By the time I’d dealt with my injuries and arrived home, it was already one in the morning. The doctor had given me a dozen stitches and recommended hospitalization, but I refused, took some medicine, and came home. Adrian still hadn’t returned. I turned off the lights and lay on the bed, staring blankly at the dark ceiling. The stinging pain from various parts of my body made sleep impossible. I tossed and turned until three AM before finally drifting into a light slumber. Suddenly, the living room lights flickered on. Adrian, reeking of alcohol, stumbled upstairs. He didn’t go to his own bedroom but walked to the furthest room—his old study—and gently pushed open the door. I wasn’t a very still sleeper. I turned over, pulling at my stitches, and let out a soft groan in my sleep. This faint sound was caught by Adrian. He followed the sound to the side of the bed, leaning over to encircle the person on it in his arms. One hand pushed aside my nightgown, pressing onto my slender, soft waist. The other lifted my chin, and he kissed me directly. 5. I wasn’t sleeping deeply, and the commotion quickly jolted me awake. The familiar scent of cologne from the man’s collar quickly confirmed his identity. Uncle Adrian? Why would he suddenly rush in and kiss me? My entire body stiffened. Before I could react, I heard Adrian’s husky voice, laced with hot breath, “Penelope…” In that moment, I froze. And the overwhelming scent of alcohol instantly clarified my situation. Uncle Adrian was drunk and had mistaken me for Penelope. In that brief moment of distraction, Adrian’s hands began to move lower. Panic flooded through me. I pressed down on the hand that was exploring my waist, desperate to push him away, my voice urgent. “Uncle Adrian, you’ve got the wrong person! It’s Clara!” Adrian was either too drunk to understand or my struggles merely fueled his possessive instincts. His kisses grew more aggressive, encompassing my soft lips, gently gnawing. I could barely breathe. Tears welled up, wetting the gauze on my injury, and stung the wound, causing a sharp, throbbing pain. “Uncle Adrian, you’re hurting me! My wound is really painful…” Whether it was the alcohol wearing off or my pleas having an effect, Adrian’s body stiffened slightly, and he released his grip on me. I quickly scrambled out of bed, not even bothering to put on my shoes. I rushed to the living room, wrapping myself in a blanket, and only managed to fall asleep around dawn. The next afternoon, the moment I opened my eyes, I saw Adrian standing before me, his expression unreadable. The events of last night flooded my mind, making me instinctively shrink into the corner of the sofa. Seeing my reaction, a flicker of coldness crossed Adrian’s eyes. “Last night, did *you* bring me to your room?” His question stunned me. I was about to explain when I saw his brow furrow again. “Don’t ever have such thoughts again. Otherwise, you’ll have to move out.” Seeing his certainty, I swallowed the words “You were drunk” that were on the tip of my tongue. Given the previous incident of my secret kiss, no matter what I explained now, he likely wouldn’t believe me. So I gave up trying to clarify and simply kept my mouth shut. Two shadows were cast on the floor. I saw the shadow opposite me seem to lift a hand, and I couldn’t help but look up. Adrian’s hand hovered just above my head, as if he intended to pat me. My entire body stiffened, my eyes wide with disbelief. When I was little, whenever I missed my family and cried until I couldn’t breathe, or felt sad and lonely, Adrian would always pat my head, gently comforting me. It had become our unspoken signal. But ever since I turned seventeen, we’d had almost no physical contact. My breathing hitched with tension. The next second, Adrian raised his hand a few inches higher, retrieving a bottle of red wine from the cabinet behind me. It turned out I had just been overthinking things. I let out a self-deprecating laugh. Because I was desperate to sell, the items I had previously listed and the old family mansion were priced below market value, so they sold quickly. My account had accumulated over ninety million, still tens of thousands short of the amount I intended to repay. With little time left before moving abroad, it was difficult to raise the remaining funds. As an art student, though new, I had won many awards and was somewhat known in the industry, so I decided to hold an exhibition to sell my paintings. It was hard for me to organize it alone in such a short time, so I went to ask Adrian for help. Penelope, who happened to be nearby, showed a flicker of surprise on her face and stepped forward with a smile. “Perfect, I’m also preparing an exhibition. Why don’t we do it together?” I looked at Adrian, and seeing no objection from him, I agreed. Five days later, both our exhibitions were held simultaneously at the art gallery. Penelope had studied painting for over a decade, and this was her first major exhibition, so Adrian was exceptionally invested. He directly gave me the several-hundred-square-foot main hall, meticulously redecorating it and using various means to promote it. As a result, on opening day, the socialites and literary figures attending set a new record for the art gallery’s visitor traffic. The other exhibition, located in a side hall, wasn’t so fortunate. The ten-square-foot room was crammed with nearly a hundred paintings, so cramped that people couldn’t even move, and no one came to visit, let alone bid. I stood at the entrance, gazing at the bustling scene in the distance, my eyes filled with loss and dejection. A few friends who came to help were about to comfort me when a scream suddenly erupted from the room. “Clara, something’s happened!” 6. Someone exposed a plagiarism case online. And the individuals involved were Penelope and me, who were both holding art exhibitions today. Looking at the comparison chart made by internet sleuths on my phone, the two paintings were virtually identical, from content to composition and color. Soon, the hashtag #RisingArtistClaraAllegedlyPlagiarizes trended on Instagram, sparking widespread discussion. My friends gathered around me, frantically pacing like ants on a hot skillet. “How could Clara possibly plagiarize? The school uniform in that painting is from our high school! Are they blind?” “Exactly! That girl is Clara herself, we can all vouch for it!” “It’s clearly Penelope who plagiarized! How dare she still show her face after copying someone else’s work?” I maintained some semblance of rationality, rushing home, desperate to find my original drafts to prove my innocence. All the way home, my mind was a chaotic mess, recalling the moment I created that painting. That year, I was eighteen, and Adrian no longer picked me up from school. I went home with my top-scoring test paper, rushing straight to his study, eager to show him and make him happy. The room was quiet. Adrian was asleep, slumped over his desk. I tiptoed to his side. The setting sun’s rays caught his brow and eyes; under the golden light, he looked like an inviolable deity. I was determined to be the one to pull him down from that pedestal. So I picked up the test paper, placed it over his face, and lightly kissed him. Adrian woke with a start and scolded me again. But I didn’t take his rebukes to heart. Instead, I turned that scene into a painting, carefully keeping it for years. Now, I had moved on from him and was desperate for money, so I included that painting in the exhibition. I never imagined it would become a stain on my reputation. After arriving home, I searched everywhere I could think of, but I couldn’t find any trace of the original drafts. That’s when panic truly set in. I racked my brain, trying to recall anywhere I hadn’t looked. My phone chimed. A friend had sent me a link, urging me to check it out. I tapped it, and Penelope’s face appeared on the screen. Seeing the words “News Conference” behind her, my heart sank. On the live stream, Penelope spoke with a serious expression, giving a detailed account of the plagiarism issue and describing the entire painting process vividly. Then, she produced an original draft, displaying it to the many reporters and cameras. “I’m acquainted with the rising artist involved in this plagiarism case. She’s still young, and I believe she didn’t do it intentionally; she just took a wrong path for a moment. I don’t blame her.” As soon as this press conference was held, online opinion immediately became one-sided. A deluge of netizens flooded my social media accounts with insults, and comments quickly surpassed a hundred thousand. Simultaneously, another trending topic slowly climbed to the top. #ThorneFamilyHeiressAndBeaumontGroupCEOSweetlyKiss,WeddingImminent Beneath the topic, a video autoplayed. Adrian, driving his sports car, arrived at the press conference. Penelope ran to him, laughing, and threw herself into his arms. The couple embraced before getting into the back seat. Before the partition between the front and back seats rose, the camera caught them in a passionate kiss. News of their relationship had broken long ago, attracting a large number of ‘shippers’ who frantically flooded the video with comments. “So sweet! I’m dying from the cuteness! Boo-hoo-hoo!” “Why did the partition go up? Is there something my fan-head can’t see?!” “I heard Adrian is her guardian, and now she and Penelope are both caught in a plagiarism scandal. Adrian rushing to Penelope’s side only confirms that Clara is the plagiarist!” Numbly, I exited the video, looking at the rapidly increasing comment notifications. I tapped on them, only to find everyone was cursing me. Some condemned me for being rotten since childhood, others for lacking integrity, and still others for my inferior skill. Some even cursed my deceased parents, saying I had no upbringing and that my family tree was empty. My finger hovered over that comment, and my entire body trembled. Tears streamed down, blurring the text on the screen, but not the pain in my heart. I dialed Adrian’s number. 7. The first call went unanswered. The second call, he still didn’t pick up. I kept calling, over and over, until the ninth attempt finally connected. Hearing his steady breathing on the other end, I suddenly remembered high school, when I was falsely accused of plagiarism and completely isolated. Back then, I’d called him repeatedly, just like this. He had only said one thing: “Don’t be scared, Uncle Adrian’s here.” But now, my voice trembling, I asked, “Did you give her the original draft of my painting?” Adrian didn’t hesitate, frankly admitting it. “Yes, I did.” A long, shaky breath came from my end of the phone, my voice clearly trembling. “Why would you do that?” After a few seconds of silence, Adrian finally spoke. “That painting was never meant to be seen by the world, nor should it bear your name. Didn’t you know that?” So, he was still afraid of others finding out. He was still worried I harbored inappropriate feelings for him. A bitter, twisted smile played on my lips as I closed my bloodshot eyes. “But *I* wasn’t the one who plagiarized, Penelope was! By giving her the draft, I can never clear my name of plagiarism! My entire career is ruined!” “Penelope was just momentarily confused, it wasn’t intentional. What does it matter if you take the fall for her this once? When I first had you learn painting, it was just to find a hobby to distract you. You don’t need to be so serious about it. I’ll support you for life anyway; you’ll never have to worry about making a living.” With that, he hung up. I remained frozen, still holding my phone, my gaze fixed on the mirror in front of me. Looking at the swollen, tired face reflected there, I suddenly didn’t quite recognize myself. Was this still me? I didn’t quite recognize Adrian either. Was that still the Uncle Adrian who would abandon the world for me, even if the world abandoned me? I couldn’t tell anymore. After the exhibition collapsed, I became even more determined to repay Adrian every penny. My friends introduced me to several part-time jobs: working as a caddy at a golf course, serving at high-end clubs, and so on. To raise the money as quickly as possible, I took every job I could find, leaving early and returning late every day, barely seen. A week before I was due to leave the country, I finally scraped together the last few tens of thousands. I changed into my server uniform and pushed open the private room door, preparing for my last shift. Coincidentally, on my last day, I ran into some familiar faces. A group of men and women were gathered, seemingly playing some game. In the first round, Adrian lost. The game host publicly announced his punishment. “Kiss the person you like for three minutes!” The entire room erupted, and all eyes turned to a blushing Penelope. But Adrian stood up, walked past the crowd and out of the circle, stepping by step, until he was standing in front of me. Everyone in the room froze, then a murmur spread. Just as no one could figure out what was happening, Adrian took out his phone from his pocket and held it out. “Hold this. Record the whole thing.” I suddenly had a premonition, and my heart trembled slightly. But at that moment, I realized I wasn’t hurting as much as I used to. Perhaps because I had truly decided to let go, there was nothing left that could harm me. I calmly took the phone, opened the camera, and pressed the record button. His phone had excellent resolution. Even in the dim lighting, I could clearly see the scene on the screen. Adrian returned to his seat, pulled Penelope into his arms, leaned down, and kissed her. The timer on the screen above showed the duration. Three minutes, 180 seconds, not a second more, not a second less. But the video didn’t end there. After the kiss, Adrian knelt on one knee, took a diamond ring from his pocket, and his voice was full of tenderness. “Penelope, will you marry me?” He proposed to Penelope! I didn’t quite hear Penelope’s answer. The two main characters on the screen were completely obscured by the crowd, and deafening screams and frenzied cheers erupted from all directions, flooding my ears. I lowered my hand, pressing the stop recording button. Just then, the manager walked over, saying a new guest had arrived next door and needed my help. I handed the phone to a colleague nearby, turned, and left the private room. Without a moment’s hesitation. 8. After finishing all my work, I dragged my tired body home. Adrian had arrived before me, sitting on the living room sofa. Seeing me return, he called out. “Stop right there!” “Why are you working in places like that? Didn’t I give you enough money?” I leaned against the entryway, changing my shoes, my voice flat. “I was bored at home, nothing to do, just experiencing different aspects of life.” The anger on Adrian’s face subsided a little, but his voice was still cold. “Don’t go to places like that again.” I certainly wouldn’t need to. I mumbled an acknowledgment and went upstairs with my head down. For the next few days, Adrian barely came home. Penelope, however, sent me many photos every day. Rings, wedding photos, wedding venues, bouquets—each picture exuded the happiness and joy of getting married. I didn’t reply to her; I was busy packing my luggage. On the morning of the third day before my departure, I met Adrian at the top of the stairs, just as he was leaving. I called out to him. “Uncle Adrian, in three days, could you spare an hour to celebrate my birthday with me?” He had raised me for so many years; I wanted to say a proper goodbye. But to Adrian, my request sounded like a challenge. In previous years, on my birthday, I would always pull him aside and say those blatantly inappropriate declarations of love. So he refused without a second thought. “I’ve told you many times, don’t make such requests!” Seeing he was angry again, I quickly explained. “This time, I won’t do anything to upset you, and I won’t confess like in previous years. I just want to…” …say a proper goodbye . A distance lay between us, and my last few words were almost inaudible . Adrian didn’t hear a single one. Hearing me speak a few normal sentences, he finally relaxed and nodded. On my birthday, I waited from morning till night, but Adrian never came. Seeing it was almost time for my flight, I finally picked up my phone and dialed his number. After ten seconds of ringing, Penelope’s voice came through. “Hello? Adrian’s in the shower; he can’t take calls right now.” Her tone was laced with ambiguous implications, making my heart plummet. I glanced at my watch, my eyes filled with stubbornness. “Then how long will he be? I can wait for him to finish.” A sneering laugh came from the phone. “Why bother? He’s already in the shower. I’ll be honest with you; we’re at a hotel right now. You’re an adult, aren’t you? You know what comes after a shower. Are you planning to stick around and watch? He’s your *guardian*, for crying out loud! You like him, fine, but he’s getting married, and you’re still here, clinging to him every day? How utterly shameless can you be…” The utterly humiliating words pierced my heart like needles. I bit my lip hard, refusing to let the tears fall. After venting all her emotions with relish, Penelope abruptly hung up. Looking at the “Call ended” message on my screen, I slowly lowered my hand. I don’t know how much time passed before I finally took out candles from a box. The cream on the cake had softened slightly from the warmth, and the ‘21’ candles were crookedly inserted. After lighting them, I leaned over and blew them out, silently making a wish. My 21st birthday wish was no longer to be with Uncle Adrian forever. Instead, it was for him to live a long, peaceful life, and that my absence would bring him joy. With that, I blew out the candles. Finally, I cleared away all traces of my presence, leaving only three things in the place I had lived for over a decade. A bank card containing one hundred million dollars, repaying all his kindness and years of raising me. A wedding gift, wishing him and his beloved to share a lifetime together. And a final farewell. [Uncle Adrian, I’ve given up. I wish you happiness.] After writing it, I picked up my suitcase and took one last look at the house. I turned and walked away, without looking back. 9. The Auckland airport announced arriving flights. From a distance, I saw my aunt’s family waving enthusiastically. I rushed forward, greeted by three radiant smiles, and all the gloom in my heart melted away. “Aunt Lena! Uncle Mark! Chloe!” Ten-year-old Chloe, though seeing her cousin for the first time, had already heard from her mother how wonderful I was. The moment we met, she threw herself into my arms. “Sister, was the flight tiring? Chloe will give you a foot rub!” Uncle Mark stepped forward and took my luggage, and the little girl’s chubby hands began to press my legs. Seeing my innocent, adorable cousin, my heart melted. I swept her into my arms. “Sister isn’t tired, but Chloe must be tired after waiting here for two hours, right?” “Waiting for you isn’t tiring! I love you the most, Sister!” Chloe said, giving me a big kiss on the cheek. My eyes crinkled into happy crescent moons from smiling. Aunt Lena took Chloe in one arm and pulled me with the other, her voice full of joy. “Twelve hours of flying must have been exhausting, Clara. Do you want to go home and rest first, or grab something to eat?” Having slept seven or eight hours on the plane, I felt quite energetic. I playfully tapped Chloe’s nose, a smile still on my face. “Let’s go eat first. Chloe, tell me about all the good food here!” “Oh, I know tons! Mom, can we order all my favorites for Sister?” Chatting and laughing, the family of three and I left the airport. As we passed a trash can, I casually tossed my phone in. Aunt Lena saw my action, a flicker of surprise on her face. “Why did you throw your phone away? Is it broken? You should get it fixed, or it’ll be hard to contact your friends back home, and Adrian too.” The smile on my lips faded slightly, and I gently shook my head. “I won’t be going back home, so I probably won’t see my friends or classmates again. I sold the family mansion and left the money for Adrian, as repayment for all his years of raising me. Adrian is getting married and starting his own family soon, and since I’m just an adopted ward with no blood ties, it wouldn’t be right to bother him anymore. So, no need to contact him.” Aunt Lena paused, then considered that what I said made sense. She gently patted my shoulder. “Perhaps it’s for the best. After all, when the Beaumonts ran into trouble back then, your father was the one who helped them out. Adrian raising you for over a decade just evens the score. You’re home now with your aunt, and your brother and his wife would be happy to see this from above.” At the mention of our deceased family, both aunt and niece grew a little sad. Chloe, ever the quick-witted imp, though not entirely understanding what was happening, deftly changed the subject. “Sister, I have a present for you! Everything in your room was chosen by me, and I even put lots and lots of cute stuffed animals in there. Do you like them?” “What kind of stuffed animals did Chloe put in? Tell your sister all about them.” Seeing the sisters’ close bond, Aunt Lena and Uncle Mark exchanged glances, both seeing relief in each other’s eyes. Tears welled up in Aunt Lena’s eyes. When her brother and his wife first passed away, she hadn’t been able to help me, and a knot of guilt had always remained in her heart. Although the Beaumonts hadn’t mistreated me, she knew that living under someone else’s roof meant you’re never truly free, and she had always been looking for a way to bring her niece home. Now that the family was reunited, she could finally let go of the burden in her heart. For the rest of her life, she would do everything in her power to give me a warm home. After all, we were the only family left in the world who shared blood. 10. From the bathroom, Adrian heard the commotion outside. When he emerged, he casually asked, wiping his hair, “Did anyone call?” A hint of nervousness flickered across Penelope’s face, but she quickly denied it. “Spam call. I cursed them out and hung up.” Adrian nodded, picked up his clothes from the sofa, and went to change. Seeing his movement, Penelope’s heart seized. She stepped forward and grabbed his arm. “The wedding is in two days. Aren’t you staying tonight?” A flicker of displeasure crossed Adrian’s eyes, and his voice was cold. “I told you from the beginning, it’s all just an act. Don’t you understand what a contract wedding means? Let go!” Seeing his sudden change in expression, Penelope was startled and quickly withdrew her hand. “I understand. I’m sorry, Adr… Mr. Beaumont.” Dressed, Adrian picked up his phone and walked straight out. He stepped into his car and told the driver to go home. His watch showed eight o’clock, he had already missed our agreed-upon time. Afraid I might be hiding and feeling sad again, Adrian hesitated, then called me. After a long wait, the message came: the number was off. He dialed again; still no connection. Adrian’s brow immediately furrowed. He sent a text message, but there was no reply. He then called Mr. Finch, the butler. “Where is Miss Clara? Tell her to call me.” “Miss Clara left an hour ago, carrying a suitcase. She might have gone out to paint.” Paint? At this hour of the night, when you can barely see the road, and the weather is so cold, where could she possibly go to paint? Was he late, had I gotten angry again, and was I pulling the run-away stunt? Thinking of all the reckless things I had done over the years, running away didn’t seem out of the question. A sudden, nameless fury flared in Adrian’s chest. He immediately called his assistant, Sarah, to locate my phone. Sarah quickly sent him the location. The moment he opened it and saw “Airport,” Adrian’s face instantly darkened. He clenched his fist, forcefully suppressing his anger, and instructed the driver to turn towards the airport. She truly had grown up, grown wings. Now she even dared to threaten him by running away! Upon arriving at the airport, Sarah, who had received the message earlier, was already waiting at the entrance with a team, having searched every nook and cranny of the airport. Glancing around and not seeing the person he wanted to see, Adrian’s eyes were shadowed with displeasure. “Where is she?” “We haven’t seen Miss Clara, Mr. Beaumont. I’ve already applied to the airline to check the passenger lists for the past three hours, but it might take some time. Please be patient.” *Patient?* The person had slipped away right under his nose; he was already on the verge of exploding. Just as he was about to lose his temper, the villa phone rang. “Sir, it’s bad! Miss Clara! She! You should come back and see!” Mr. Finch’s wailing voice sent a chill down Adrian’s spine, and he froze. Sarah, seeing his pale face, immediately opened the car door and helped him in, urging the driver to speed home. All the way, Adrian said nothing, his lips pressed into a grim line. Sarah, beside him, didn’t dare to breathe, her heart pounding. No one understood better than them how important Miss Clara was to Mr. Beaumont. If I ran away, Mr. Beaumont would turn the world upside down. If something happened to me, Mr. Beaumont would make someone pay dearly! As the car pulled into the villa, Adrian’s phone rang again. He answered impatiently, only to hear Penelope’s sobbing voice. “Adrian, I twisted my ankle. Can you come see me?” “Twisted ankle? Why not just say you’re dead?!” The last three words made Sarah, who had just opened the car door, shudder and instinctively take a few steps back. She watched him smash his phone to the ground and storm into the villa like a man possessed.
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