“I’m willing to accept the twenty million dollars and disappear from Jackson’s life… so prepare the money in five days.”

My voice was steady, but my hands trembled as I spoke into the phone.

On the other line, Nathalia’s laugh rang out, sharp and triumphant. “Finally realized you don’t belong in my son’s world? Great then. Consider it done, Cassandra. Just make sure I never see your face near him again.”

And then the line went dead.

I stood there frozen, the silence pressing against me. The phone slipped from my fingers and landed on the couch with a muted thud. My eyes burned, but no tears came. Only the hollow ache of surrender.

If it had been another time—another me—I would’ve fought for him. I would’ve shouted, argued, clawed my way through hell just to stay by Jackson’s side. But not now. Not anymore.

I closed my eyes and let out a long, broken sigh.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Five years ago, I had stumbled upon Jackson on the side of the road, bloodied and unconscious after the accident that stole his memories. Back then, I had nothing—not even a proper roof over my head. Just a tiny apartment with peeling paint, a secondhand mattress, and enough savings to barely feed myself.

But I took him in anyway.

I nursed him. I cooked with what little I had. I bandaged his wounds and whispered to him in the dead of night, promising he wasn’t alone. And when he finally opened his eyes—confused, broken, lost—I smiled through my tears and said, “You’re safe here. With me.”

He didn’t remember his name, his family, his past. But he remembered me.

In that small, fragile world we built, we fell in love. A love so raw, so real, it felt like the universe had rewritten itself just for us. He worked hard for us, taking odd jobs, saving every dollars, always whispering, “Someday, Cassandra, I’ll give you the world. You’ll never feel poor again. That’s my promise.”

And he kept it.

Because one day, we learned the truth. Jackson wasn’t just some lost man with empty pockets—he was the heir of one of the most powerful business empires in the city. A multi-billionaire by blood. And when his memories came back, he brought me with him into his world.

I thought it was our fairy tale ending. He fought for me in front of Nathalia, his formidable mother who looked at me like dirt clinging to her diamond floors. He slipped a ring onto my finger, promising forever, whispering, “I choose you, Cassandra. No one else. You’re my home.”

But our happiness was short-lived.

Because Ivy returned.

Ivy—his old love. The one who had been with him before the accident. Perfect Ivy, with her family name, her polished charm, her unshakable connection to his world. She slid back into his life like she had never left, and suddenly, I was a shadow in my own relationship.

He forgot our sixth anniversary.

And while I waited in the penthouse, clutching the dinner I prepared, the news flashed across the screen—photos of Jackson with Ivy at a gala. The world gushed over their reunion, the headlines screaming: “The Perfect Match is Back—Wedding Bells Soon?”

That night, something inside me died.

I thought he had simply overlooked me, but when he saw the photos of him and Ivy on my desk, he accused me of stalking him. Of hiring someone to follow him. He never realized it was Nathalia giving me those to leave.

And still… I stayed.

Until tonight.

The sound of the door unlocking snapped me out of my thoughts. The tall glass doors of the penthouse swung open, and Jackson stepped inside. His tie hung loose around his neck, his jaw tight, his phone still in his hand.

He didn’t even look at me when he asked, “Where’s the food?”

I stared at him, my lips curving into a bitter smile. “Didn’t you eat with Ivy?”

That caught his attention. His gaze snapped to me, sharp and accusing. “What’s this again, Cassandra? Are you making someone follow me? Isn’t it enough that you stalked me and took those photos of me and Ivy back then? Do you really think I wouldn’t notice?”

“That wasn’t me,” I whispered.

But he didn’t hear me. He didn’t want to. “Can I not have a life? Do you know how much I missed when I lost my memories? How many connections? How many opportunities? I’ve told you so many times—it’s for business! We’ve already cut ties romantically. She means nothing beyond her family’s influence!”

I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to. But the bitterness in his tone, the exhaustion in his eyes, the way he said “we” when he spoke of him and Ivy—it told me everything.

So I nodded. Silent.

And then I stood.

“Where are you going?” he asked sharply, his voice echoing through the high-ceilinged penthouse.

I turned to him, forcing my expression into something calm. “I’m not feeling well.”

I walked past him, each step heavy, each breath burning, and locked myself inside the room that had never really felt like mine.

I sank onto the bed, clutching my chest. Around me was everything he promised me: luxury, comfort, the glittering view of the city through tall glass windows.

But it was all empty. Because I no longer had him.

My gaze drifted to the passport on the bedside drawer. My hand trembled as I picked it up. Then, with a deep breath, I dialed a familiar number.

The call connected after a few rings.

“Cass?” a warm, worried voice answered. My best friend.

I swallowed hard. “Can you pick me up in five days, Lina? I… I’m going to run away from my wedding with Jackson.”

The warmth startled me.

When I opened my eyes, strong arms were wrapped around me from behind. Jackson’s breath brushed against my ear, and his familiar voice whispered, “I’m sorry about last night. I was just… busy. Let me make it up to you this time. Dinner?”

His lips brushed my cheek before I could even process the words. He kissed me softly, almost tenderly, like the man I once knew. Then he slipped something cool into my hand.

I looked down. An emerald necklace sparkled against my palm, deep green fire dancing in the light.

“I’m also sorry for missing our anniversary,” he murmured, fastening it gently around my neck. “Don’t worry, Cassandra. After our wedding, we’ll go on a trip to the Maldives—just like you’ve always wanted.”

I forced a smile, my throat tight.

He pulled back, revealing a tray of breakfast he had prepared himself—eggs, toast, fresh juice. “Here,” he said proudly, setting it on my lap.

If this had been another day—if it had been years ago when we still lived in that small apartment and he scraped together coins to buy me a five-dollar ring—my heart would have burst with joy. Back then, I would have kissed him endlessly, thanking him as though he had handed me the world.

But today?

I just stared. Pretended to eat. Pretended to smile. Pretended to be happy.

Because deep down, I knew. The cracks had already swallowed us whole.

And then his phone rang.

The screen lit up with a name I didn’t need to see twice. Ivy.

Jackson glanced at me once, then answered smoothly. “Business. I’ll see you at dinner. Wear what I sent you.”

He hung up without another word and left, grabbing his coat, his cologne trailing behind him like a ghost of the man who used to love me.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

I pushed the tray aside and stood. I opened the wardrobe and pulled out every box, every drawer, every hidden memory. The love letters from years ago, the cheap trinkets, the first ring he bought me when he worked five jobs to keep me fed, the pressed flowers he once gave me when we couldn’t afford real bouquets. Every gift, every note, every token of our history.

I placed them all in a box. Once, these things had been treasures. Now, they were weights.

I slid the box to the corner of the room. I would erase every piece of our past once I left.

By evening, I dressed in the gown Jackson had sent, the emerald necklace heavy against my skin. I painted my lips with the shade he liked, pinned my hair the way he preferred, and told myself it would only be him and me tonight. That maybe this was his attempt to remember.

But when I stepped into the restaurant, my heart froze.

Because she was there. Ivy.

“Oh, look,” she said sweetly. “We have the same dress. And the same necklace. Seems like we share the same taste, huh?”

I stared at her, my voice small. “What are you doing here?”

Before I could say more, Jackson’s voice cut in. “We had a meeting with a client here. Ivy was already nearby, so she joined us. She’s hungry, so she’s eating with us right now.”

My chest tightened. “I thought this was a date.”

He sighed, already irritated. “Don’t be dramatic, Cassandra. I’m stressed with work. Just sit down, eat, and stop making a scene.”

I obeyed, lowering myself into the seat quietly. My fingers clenched against the tablecloth, holding myself together with what little pride I had left.

The food arrived. I expected that he would serve me first, like he always used to. Instead, the dish was placed in front of Ivy, and Jackson slid her plate closer with a smile.

Then came the seafood platter. The smell hit me instantly. My stomach churned. Memories slammed into me: the night I had mistakenly eaten seafood years ago, the allergic reaction that left me gasping in the hospital, Jackson working tirelessly to pay for the bills.

How could he forget?

He turned to me, brows lifting. “Why aren’t you eating? Isn’t this your favorite?”

Ivy leaned forward with a knowing smirk. “Oh, really? We’re the same then—it’s my favorite too.”

My lips trembled. I whispered, “I’m allergic…”

But he didn’t hear. His phone rang again, and he excused himself, stepping away.

And then it was just me and Ivy.

She leaned closer, her voice dripping with venom. “You’re really a copycat, huh? Can’t you see he’s dressing you like me? The same gown, the same necklace—so he won’t feel bad for settling. Do you even realize what you are, Cassandra? Nothing. A stand-in. A shadow.”

I stayed silent, biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from crying.

She chuckled darkly. “That necklace? Yours is a cheap imitation. Mine is real. He buys me the originals—you get the duplicates. Do you really think you’ll ever fit in our world? You better leave before you embarrass yourself further. Before you get hurt.”

I met her gaze, finally speaking in a low, firm voice. “Good. Then I will.”

I pushed back from the table, ready to walk away—but Ivy wasn’t finished.

As I rose, she suddenly yelped, clutching her leg. She knocked her soul bowl over dramatically.

“Ahhh! My leg—Cassandra burned me!” she cried, her voice loud enough to draw attention.

Heads turned. Jackson rushed back instantly, his face contorted with panic.

“What happened?!” he demanded, crouching beside her.

Tears streaked Ivy’s flawless cheeks as she sobbed, “She—she got mad about the dress, the necklace—she burned me! On purpose!”

I shook my head furiously. “No! I didn’t! I didn’t even touch her!”

But Jackson’s eyes snapped to me, furious. “Are you insane?! She’s a model, Cassandra! She depends on her legs! And you—what are you?! Nothing!”

The words pierced deeper than any blade.

And then he did the unthinkable.

He grabbed the edge of the hot plate and pressed it against my thigh. The searing pain tore a scream from my throat, the burn spreading like fire under my skin.

“Now feel it,” he hissed. “Feel the burn you gave her.”

I collapsed against the chair, clutching my leg, my vision swimming with tears.

Ivy sobbed into his chest as he carried her out of the restaurant, her arms looped around his neck, her smile hidden from his view but visible to mine.

And me?

I was left there. Alone.

With trembling fingers, I wrapped the bandage around my leg, layer by layer, until the pain dulled to a heavy throb.

And when it was done, I stared at myself in the mirror—the necklace still glinting mockingly at my throat, my eyes swollen from tears, my leg covered in white cloth like a wound I could never hide.

That was when I knew. I couldn’t stay here anymore.

So I stood, ignoring the ache in my body, and went straight to the wardrobe. I didn’t cry. I simply pulled out the suitcases and began to pack. Then I gathered the rest—the letters, the photographs, the tiny tokens of a love I once thought would last forever—and threw them into a pile.

This time, I didn’t put them in a box. I set them on fire.

The flames devoured everything in seconds, curling paper into ash, melting ink into nothing.

I was done. But as I lifted my luggage, ready to leave, the front door slammed open.

Jackson stood there, eyes widening at the sight of the blackened pile, the suitcases lined up like soldiers at my feet. “What the hell is this?” His voice thundered through the penthouse. “Why did you throw our things? What are those boxes? And what’s with the smoke? Did you burn something?”

I met his gaze, my voice steady. “Charity.”

He stepped forward, frowning. “And the luggage? Where are you going?”

I forced a small smile. “On a trip.”

“Trip?” His voice rose in disbelief. “We’re getting married soon and you still want to go on a trip? You didn’t even tell me! Was this because of what happened earlier? Cassandra—I said I’m sorry, okay?”

I laughed bitterly under my breath. Sorry. Always sorry.

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing. “I was just stressed. You know her family is helping me. I couldn’t let her be embarrassed like that, because if she is, the merger falls through. Don’t you understand? This is for us. I’m doing this for us.”

I looked down, my eyes fixed on his legs—the same ones that had stood in front of me, begging, promising when he was nothing but a man with empty pockets.

Now those same legs had walked me into hell.

“Please,” he said, softer this time. He reached for my hands. “I promise—once this merger is done, once everything is settled, I’ll focus on you. Just… give me this. This is for us.”

I couldn’t answer. My chest was too heavy to form words.

And then his eyes flickered downward. “Where’s your ring?”

I froze.

“I removed it,” I said quietly. “I don’t… like the feeling anymore.”

For a moment, something unreadable flashed across his face. Then he sighed and pulled me into a half-hearted embrace. “Don’t worry. We’ll go to the auction tomorrow. You can pick whatever you like. I’ll buy you something better. Anything you want.”

I nodded, forcing my face blank. Just a few more days, I told myself.

That same night, I checked my bank account. A new deposit. Twenty million dollars.

From Nathalia. The deal was sealed.

The next morning, I stepped outside, only to freeze at the sight of Ivy already sitting in the passenger seat of Jackson’s car.

“Oh, sorry,” she said sweetly. “Jackson’s mother insisted I come to the auction. She thought I’d be more… fitting to accompany Jackson. I mean, what you know, right? It’ll be your first time.”

Jackson glanced back at me in the rearview mirror. “It’s for business again. Just let it go.”

So I sat quietly in the back seat, staring out the window, remembering the days when Jackson used to talk about buying us a small car. “For our road trips,” he had said, eyes shining with hope. “We’ll drive anywhere you want, Cassandra. Just you and me.”

That dream was gone now, replaced by tinted windows and the bitter laughter of another woman in the front seat.

At the auction, the cameras flashed like lightning. Jackson and Ivy posed effortlessly, their smiles polished, their chemistry undeniable. The media called them perfect, their names whispered like royalty.

And me? I was shoved to the background. A shadow. A wallflower no one cared to notice.

When someone dared to ask who I was, Jackson corrected them smoothly. “A friend. Nothing more.”

The words sliced through me sharper than any knife.

At the table, I sat silently while Ivy leaned close to whisper, “See? You don’t belong here. You never did.”

I wanted to scream. To cry. To leave. But I sat there, gripping the hem of my dress until my nails left marks in my skin.

Finally, I stood, deciding to go home and let the charade continue without me. But as I turned, something caught my eye.

A golden locket.

It lay glinting on a velvet display, familiar as the lines of my own hands. My breath caught.

It was like my grandmother’s locket—the one I had sold years ago, desperate to pay for Jackson’s hospital bills after the accident. Our family had once been wealthy, but that locket was the last remnant of our legacy. And when I parted with it, Jackson had taken my hand and sworn, “Someday, Cassandra, when I can afford it, I’ll buy it back for you. I promise.”

And now, here it was.

My throat closed as I stepped closer.

I reached out, just to touch it, to make sure it was truly the same one.

The moment my fingers brushed the gold, a woman beside the display shrieked. “You thief!” She shoved me hard, her voice echoing through the hall. “You’re stealing! She’s a stealer!”