Sandra’s eyes flashed, and she gave Spencer a warning look.

Spencer, however, didn't seem to care.

He walked slowly to the bedside, leaned down, and examined Queena's face closely, his expression growing complex.

“How did you end up in such a mess? He promised to go with you, yet he left you in this situation. If that's the case, you might as well come with me. At least there's one thing I'm better than him at—I have no children and no ties.”

Old Mr. Powell and Mrs. Powell looked up in shock, their faces betraying their contempt for Queena.

Jerome clenched his fists, about to step forward to pull Spencer away, but was blocked by Old Mr. Powell.

“Good-for-nothing!”

He glared at Jerome with wide eyes, raising his hand to slap him, but was stopped by Sandra.

The heavy slap echoed through the ward, causing little Sheila to burst into tears.

The scene descended into chaos.

Old Mr. Powell could only give up for now, but before leaving, he couldn't resist pointing at Jerome's nose and shouting, "If you dare to elope with that slut, you'll be completely cut off from the Powell family! Your mother and I will consider you dead!"

With that, Old Mr. Powell and Mrs. Powell left the ward angrily, holding Little Sheila in their arms.

“Does it hurt?”

Jerome embraced Sandra, who was crying with her head down, his voice filled with concern.

“Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?”

Sandra shook her head with tears in her eyes, “I wanted to give little Sheila a complete family, so I could tolerate her insults, but this time she went too far! She went as far as framing a child to drive a wedge between us!”

"Jerome, I can't compete with her. She can do whatever she wants because of your love, but my daughter and I have no one to rely on. I'm really tired. Why don't we... Let’s get a divorce.”

“You don’t need to compete with her, Sandra. You’re my legally wedded Mrs. Powell, and little Sheila is our daughter...”

Jerome gently wiped the tears from her face. “She’s physically unable to have children, so rest assured—no one can take what belongs to you.”

So he knew everything!

But he could ruthlessly rip open her wounds just to make Sandra happy.

Queena’s eyes welled up with tears. Her heart, which had long since ceased to beat, now ached deeply.

Sandra suppressed the smugness in her eyes and choked out, “I believe you, Jerome. Will you come with me to see little Sheila? She must be terrified.”

Jerome nodded in agreement.

As they reached the door, Queena called out to him.

Jerome looked impatient: “Enough, Queena! Besides an apology, I don't want to hear another word from you. The underhanded tactics you've been using behind my back—I don't have time to listen to your excuses now. Take these days to reflect on your actions. Until you admit your mistakes, I won't come to see you again.”

Queena composed herself and gently tossed the car keys from the bedside table to him.

Jerome looked at the car keys in his hand and her indifferent expression, and his heart sank.

His expression changed slightly: “Queena, you're really disappointing me right now.”

With that, he wrapped his arm around Sandra and walked out of the ward without looking back.

Queena withdrew her gaze and calmly looked at Spencer, who was watching the scene with interest.

“Mr. Spencer, the show is over. Can you leave now?”

Spencer ignored her, bending down and gently touching the wound on her forehead with his fingers. “Have you seen the reality? Why don't you consider me, hmm?”

Queena grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him forward forcefully, saying each word clearly, “No, consideration.”

Spencer's gaze darkened, and he pressed his finger firmly against her wound, causing Queena to wince in pain.

She struggled to push Spencer's hand away, but the next moment, he pinned her shoulders and forced her back onto the bed.

“Queena, are you really that unwilling to let him go? Are you willing to be someone else's mistress?”

Spencer leaned down, his knee pressing against her thighs, his dark eyes suddenly turning menacing. “If he can, then why can't I—”

"Ms. Ingram, your application for the international student exchange program has been approved. Please reply to confirm."

Kayla Ingram stared at the message for a long time. Her slightly trembling finger hovered above the screen.

After a deep breath, she finally typed back. "Confirmed."

The moment she hit send, a low, clear voice sounded behind her. "Why are you out here alone? Aren't you going to watch the fireworks?"

Startled, she turned around. Darren Tate was standing just a few steps away.

Under the night sky, his figure was framed by the distant glow of the fairground lights. His features were striking, cast in sharp contrast by the shadows. He wore a simple white button-down, but on him, it looked effortlessly refined—tall, composed, and impossibly distant.

She hadn't answered yet when a loud boom exploded across the sky.

Fireworks bloomed against the night sky, loud and beautiful. People all around them gasped and looked up.

However, Kayla's gaze never left him. This was the 1001st time she had looked at him like this—silently, secretly.

And it would be the last.

Darren was the famously untouchable scion of the elite social circle in Cadville, and she… was just the housekeeper's daughter in the Tate residence.

They had grown up together, but he had never been like the rest of the spoiled, wealthy heirs around them. Darren was well-mannered and kind. He never acted superior and always treated her with quiet, genuine respect, even though she had no name or status.

He helped get her into one of the most exclusive private schools in Cadville. He walked with her to school every day and made sure she got home safely.

When classmates gave her a hard time, he was always the first to speak up for her.

When she got sick, he skipped his classes to take her to the hospital without a second thought. He never once forgot her birthday, and every year, there was always a gift picked out with care.

Falling for him had been far too easy.

Over the years, countless girls had confessed to Darren, but he never once said yes to any of them. Kayla thought he simply wasn't interested in love, so she kept her feelings hidden deep inside and never dared to hope.

Then in junior year, everything changed.

He had bumped into her roommate, Winona Wolfe, completely by accident.

That night, for the first time, he had come looking for Kayla. His eyes were lit with something she had never seen before.

With a soft smile, he said, "Kayla, I think I like Winona. Would you help me win her over?"

In that moment, it felt like her heart had been carved out of her chest. It felt bloody, raw, and aching.

But Kayla still said yes.

Over the next few months, she watched him fall in love with someone else.

He drove across the entire city at 3:00 am just to buy a specific cake that Winona had once mentioned in passing. He rented out the entire hillside observatory because she said she wanted to see stars.

He even broke his rule of never posting on social media, turning his feed into a public love letter to Winona.

And today, he finally got her.

To celebrate, he spent ten million dollars setting off fireworks across the city for a full 24 hours.

That was when Kayla decided. She would leave this place, this city, and this version of herself behind. She was going to study abroad and never come back.

"You guys enjoy it. I'm a little tired. I think I'll head back to the dorm," she said softly, pulling her gaze away.

Darren frowned slightly. "The party hasn't even started yet. Why are you leaving so early? Kayla, I wouldn't be with Winona without your help. Stay and celebrate with us."

Wouldn't be with Winona without her help?

He wasn't wrong. Kayla was absolutely "indispensable".

It was Kayla who gave him Winona's number on WhatsApp. She who compiled all of Winona's favorite things into a neatly organized file.

She picked the restaurant for their first date. Even this fireworks celebration—she had been the one playing piano in the distance while they toasted under the stars.

She had played the perfect matchmaker, nudging him step by step into someone else's arms.

But every time she helped him, it felt like tearing herself apart, piece by piece. The pain was sharp, raw, and relentless.

Still, she hid it well. He never noticed a thing.

Even now, she kept up the act.

She forced a smile. "You finally got the girl you love. Are you happy?"

Darren looked briefly stunned, as if her question had caught him off guard. But a moment later, his expression softened. He nodded with a quiet, easy smile.

Kayla saw the happiness in his eyes. She smiled too. "Then I'm glad. That's all that matters."

That was enough. Now, she could finally let him go.

Darren didn't let her leave. In the end, he brought her back to the party with him.

Inside the grand hall, Winona was surrounded by a circle of girls, her face glowing with satisfaction.

"Darren is not just the heir to Tate Group, he's the campus heartthrob. Girls have been lining up for him since freshman year—some from halfway across the world. But he only has eyes for you, Winona. I'm so jealous."

Winona beamed under the praise. The moment she spotted Darren, she practically skipped toward him, her voice sweet and playful. "Darren! We haven't taken our fireworks kiss selfie yet!"

Darren chuckled and slipped an arm around her waist. Without a word, he leaned in and kissed her.

The crowd broke into cheers and whistles.

Winona blushed and gently pushed him away. Then she asked, as if just realizing, "Wait, where'd you go just now?"

"I went to find Kayla," he said casually.

Winona's smile faltered. Her gaze shifted, finally landing on Kayla.

There was the faintest edge in her tone as she said, "I'm your girlfriend. Instead of staying with me, you were off checking on someone else? I heard you two grew up together. After all that time… don't tell me you never had feelings for her?"

Darren raised a brow, as if surprised by her jealousy. "Out of everyone I could fall for, it would never be Kayla."

The words hit Kayla like a blow. Her chest tightened, and color drained from her face.

On the other hand, Winona looked pleased. She glanced sideways at Kayla and asked, "Why not?"

"She's too familiar," he replied.

But Winona wasn't finished. She lifted a hand and pointed at the nearby table stacked with champagne flutes. "Then prove it. Have her drink all of that. If she does, I'll believe you."

Darren hadn't expected Winona to suddenly turn on Kayla, and a faint crease formed between his brows.

Upon sensing his hesitation, Winona's expression shifted, her voice turning soft and wounded. "You promised, didn't you? That if we got together, you'd do anything I asked.

"You're gorgeous, rich, and way out of my league. It's only fair that I would feel a little insecure."

Darren finally turned to Kayla. "Kayla, you haven't had a drink tonight. Let's call this a toast—for me finally getting the girl I wanted. Go ahead. Have it all."

Each word landed like a blow to Kayla's chest, leaving her breathless.

Darren had to know she was allergic to alcohol. It wasn't some secret.

He had seen it happen before. But to make Winona happy, he still asked her to drink.

A few soft chuckles echoed from nearby. A group of girls who had never liked her were whispering behind their glasses.

"Please. She's the housekeeper's daughter—did she really think she stood a chance with someone like Darren?"

"Exactly. She should've figured out her place by now."

Kayla bit down hard on her lip. Then, without a word, she reached for a glass.

She took one drink, then another, and then another. The burn spread through her throat, down her spine, then across her skin. Red blotches broke out along her arms and neck.

Her vision blurred. Her knees gave out beneath her.

She collapsed to the floor.

Through the haze, she thought she saw Darren move toward her, like he wanted to help. But before he could take more than a step, Winona grabbed his arm.

"Don't you dare go to her. She's just drunk, not dying. If you walk over there, we're done."

Darren stopped. He pulled Winona close, speaking in a voice just soft enough to soothe her. "Okay. I won't go."

Kayla shut her eyes. A single tear slid down her flushed cheek and hit the ground without a sound.

And then everything went black.

Kayla woke to find herself in a hospital room.

A nurse was adjusting her IV with a serious expression. "If you had been brought in any later, we might not have been able to save you. You're severely allergic to alcohol. You can't touch it again, ever."

The memories came rushing back all at once. Kayla's chest tightened painfully as she remembered exactly how she ended up there.

She had barely nodded in response when the door to her room opened.

Darren walked in. Relief washed over his face when he saw Kayla was awake.

"Kayla, about last night—I'm sorry. Winona and I just started dating, so she's insecure. Please don't take it to heart."

Kayla said nothing. She only nodded faintly.

That seemed to reassure him. He ladled a bowl of clam chowder from a tray and handed it to her, watching carefully until she took a few sips. He stayed by her side, not saying much more.

Kayla finally sensed something was off. She looked up and asked softly, "Is there something else?"

Darren hesitated for a second, then finally said, "Actually, yeah. You placed first in the design competition, didn't you? Winona came in fourth.

"She said this competition means everything to her. If you could drop out, she'd move up in the rankings."

He was referring to the highly competitive triannual design contest hosted by Sterling University. The top three winners would be mentored by a renowned professor. It was a golden ticket into the elite world of fashion design.

That opportunity was huge. To someone like Kayla, who had no family connections or financial backing, it was priceless.

So when she heard his request, her first instinct was to say no. "I'm sorry. I need this opportunity too."

"You don't have to give it up for nothing. If you agree, I'll make sure you're compensated. Money, jewelry, a car, a house—whatever you want."

Each word landed like a blow to Kayla's chest, sharp and cutting, leaving a sting that wouldn't fade.

She looked down and took a long breath. Then she asked hoarsely, "Mr. Tate, do you really think I'm the kind of person who can be bought? Is my dream—my life—so worthless to you?"

He flinched slightly.

She hadn't called him "Mr. Tate" in years. She had only ever called him that once, back when they first met. After that, he told her not to. He said it felt too formal, too distant.

He hadn't expected to hear it from her again.

Something flickered across his expression, and a strange, unfamiliar tightness appeared in his chest.

He furrowed his brow, but still went on speaking. "That's not what I meant. Kayla, you're incredibly talented. Even without this competition, you'll succeed. But for Winona, this is the closest she's ever been to making the finals.

"I just… I don't want to see her crushed. You're her roommate, too. Could you help her this once?"

His words were disguised as praise, but Kayla knew better. Every compliment was just another step toward softening her up for that final request.

He didn't want Winona to feel disappointed, so he chose to sacrifice her dream instead.

"I know after your parents divorced, your dad racked up a mountain of gambling debt. People are coming after your mom every other week because of it.

"But if you drop out of the finals, I'll take care of all of it. No more threats, no more bills. Just think about it," he said.

They had known each other for years. Even with the distance between them, Darren had always been careful never to mention the parts of her life that left her raw and ashamed.

He knew how sensitive she was. He used to protect her silence.

But now, for Winona's sake, he didn't hesitate to tear open old scars and dig into the very pain he once tried to protect her from.

The color drained from Kayla's face in an instant. Her chest tightened, like she couldn't breathe.

Her fingers curled into fists so tight that her nails broke skin, the pain dull compared to what she felt inside. She bit down hard and forced herself to keep it in.

Upon noticing the shift in her expression, Darren's voice faltered. He tried to fix it. "What I mean is… you'd be giving up one opportunity, sure. But in return, you'd be getting rid of a huge burden."

That did it.

That one sentence crushed the last shred of her pride.

She closed her eyes. The words caught in her throat, but she pushed them out. "I'll withdraw."