With a bag of vegetables gifted by the previous tenant in hand, I was on my way to collect rent from the third household when I unexpectedly ran into someone at the entrance of the community.

The man frowned, his eyes fixed on the vegetables I carried, as though he couldn't fathom how I had ended up like this after leaving him.

Following his gaze, I instinctively shifted the vegetables behind my back. My eyes dropped to the muddy water on the pavement, and I never would have imagined bumping into my ex-boyfriend—the one who had grown up with a silver spoon—in this aging neighborhood.

He noticed my movement, and for a moment, something flickered in his expression: a mix of pity and recognition.

"Since you've already learned your lesson," he said, "come back with me."

At his words, I instinctively stepped back half a pace.

"Who said I'm going back with you?"

My rejection seemed to sting, darkening his face.

"I know you're still blaming me for giving Rachel a child," he muttered, "but it's been three years. Isn't it time to stop? As long as you come back, we can be the same as before."

Three years, huh? How quickly time had passed.

Thinking of my little girl at home, still babbling her first words, I couldn't help but smile and shake my head.

"Let's leave it at that. Go home and live your life with Rachel. My daughter's waiting for me to go back and make her food."

Steve Spencer's face darkened, his grip on my arm unyielding.

"Cassidy, I know you're still angry about what happened back then. But I came back for you. Can't you just let it go?"

Clearly, he didn't believe me when I said I was already married with a daughter. After all, everyone in the city knew how deeply we once loved each other.

Back then, we were the golden couple people envied most in our circle.

From the moment we made our relationship official, Steve and I were inseparable. From sixteen to twenty-six, our world revolved solely around each other.

But on the eve of our wedding—our ten-year anniversary—his childhood sweetheart returned from overseas.

I saw the admiration in Steve's eyes the moment he looked at her.

And why wouldn't he? Rachel had been sent abroad at a young age. She carried herself with polish and ease, a woman impossible not to like.

A sharp sting pierced my heart.

That suffocating ache drove me into the bathroom to collect myself. Yet by chance, I overheard the Spencer family's servants whispering outside.

"Cassidy really comes from a small family. Nowhere near as presentable as Miss Rachel Atkins. With Mr. Spencer's conditions, how did he end up with a woman like her?"

Another servant sneered. "Because she fawned over him, of course. Ten years of shameless devotion. He finally caved and agreed to marry her."

A single door separated us. I didn't know if they said it deliberately for me to hear, but humiliation pinned me in place. I didn't dare step out.

I don't know how long I stayed hidden, only that when their voices finally faded, I limped out of the bathroom and back into the living room.

The moment he saw me, Steve frowned. "Why were you gone so long?"

But when his gaze shifted to Rachel, his expression softened.

"I was just telling Rachel that we should go out for a meal later. She's just returned from abroad. It's been ages since she's had authentic local food..."

Go out together?

I didn't catch the rest of his words, but the meaning was already clear.

Biting my lip, I said, "But Steve, today is—"

"Your tenth-year anniversary, right? Steve told me. I'm sorry for intruding on your special day," Rachel cut in smoothly.

Her tone, however, carried not the slightest trace of apology.

Instead of apology, Rachel's expression brimmed with smug certainty, tinged with a faint, almost imperceptible contempt.

I ignored her and lifted my gaze to meet Steve's eyes. "Do we really have to go together?"

His brow furrowed ever so slightly. Pulling me aside, he whispered, "Cassidy, Rachel doesn't come back often… don't worry, she'll be leaving again in a few days. We can always make up the anniversary later."

My face hardened, uncertain how to respond. But Steve took my silence as consent and waved for Rachel to join us.

It wasn't until we reached the garage that I froze in disbelief.

Benjamin, the chauffeur, bowed repeatedly in apology. "Sorry, Mr. Spencer. The other cars are all out for maintenance today. Only your sports car is available."

While Steve hesitated, Rachel had already slipped into the passenger seat, her movements smooth and natural.

"Steve, is this your new car? It's so sleek."

He didn't answer her. Instead, he turned to me with a guilty look.

"Cassidy, maybe you should head back in. We'll celebrate our anniversary another time, when I'm free."

As he spoke, he pressed a kiss to my forehead. Yet the subtle push of his hand carried nothing but dismissal.

…

Old memories surged, sharp and unwelcome. My eyes on Steve grew colder, threaded with impatience he failed to notice. He was too busy recalling the way I once adored him without reserve.

His gaze drifted to the vegetables in my hand, and his lips curved with smug satisfaction.

"Looks like you don't have much of a proper job now. Here's what—just admit you were wrong, and I'll take you back. Rachel's health is fragile. She needs someone to look after her."

His arrogance and his delusion sickened me. How could I ever have been so bewitched by a man like this?

I no longer wished to argue. I opened my mouth to reveal the truth, to tell him who I really was—only for Steve to cut me off.

"Don't feel wronged. Just look at your situation now."

With that, he pulled a familiar box from his pocket.

The sight of it made me pause in shock.

Back then, after Rachel returned, she forced herself into every corner of our lives. Soon, even seeing Steve required her approval first.

On my birthday, when Steve entered the restaurant, I glanced behind him and asked coolly, "Did Rachel not want to come along today?"

His face flickered with embarrassment. "Don't talk nonsense. Rachel and I aren't what you think."

But I was too drained to argue anymore. "It doesn't matter. The reason I asked you here today is because I want to—"

The word break had barely left my lips when his phone rang, cutting me off.

A woman's gentle, lingering voice flowed from the new ringtone.

He'd changed it.

And the voice—it was Rachel singing.

It sounded intimate and tender, a song meant only for a lover.

My face darkened. Steve realized what I had heard, but it was already too late to explain.

On the other end came Rachel's panicked voice. "Steve! I accidentally broke the emerald pendant in your room."

An emerald pendant?

A chill spread through me. The only emerald pendant in his room was the one I had given him—the sole keepsake left by my late adoptive parents, the token of love he and I had exchanged.

As expected, Steve's expression tensed instantly. "What emerald pendant?"

For a heartbeat, I thought he was worried about the pendant itself.

But his next words shattered every last illusion I had left.

"The pendant doesn't matter. Rachel, is your hand all right?"

In the next instant, he snatched up his bag and bolted for the door.

"Rachel, don't touch it! Wait for me. I'll be home right away!"

I reached out and grabbed his arm. "What pendant? Was it the one I gave you?"

My eyes brimmed with desperation, but Steve had no patience for my emotions. "Don't ask so much!"

With that, he dashed into the pouring rain without sparing me a glance.

Memories of that pendant surged in my mind, and I looked at him with a gaze turned ice-cold.

He flipped open the box.

Inside lay the emerald pendant my adoptive parents had left me—our token of love. But now it was shattered into eight pieces, beyond repair.

Steve cleared his throat softly, as if only then remembering that Rachel had broken the pendant long ago. He reached for my hand with practiced ease.

"Cassidy, it's just a pendant. If you come back with me, I'll buy you ten more to replace it."

And that was it—that's how he'd always treated me, like a wild weed no one bothered to care about.

I slipped my hand free, my voice calm and detached.

"No need. Since I was never your chosen target, don't waste any more time on me."

The truth was, the day Steve ran off with Rachel and left me at the altar, I had already given up on him.

Now, all I wanted was for him to stay as far from my life as possible.

But life rarely grants such wishes.

Just then, a cold voice cut through the rain behind us. "Steve, what are you doing?"

It was Rachel.

The moment she appeared, Steve forgot me entirely.

"Rachel, why are you here? Aren't you feeling unwell?"

He stripped off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.

The scene that had once pierced me to the bone replayed before my eyes, yet my heart felt utterly numb.

Not hers. The instant she saw it was me beside him, Rachel's face darkened. She answered his questions, but her eyes never left me. They burned with hatred.

"I heard the richest man in the city, Lawrence Becker, lives nearby. I thought I'd try my luck and see if he might be willing to help you."

At her words, warmth flickered across Steve's gaze.

"After all these years, you're still the one who understands me best."

The sight turned my stomach. I turned to leave, but Steve pulled me back, placing me squarely before her.

"Rachel, you should go home. I'll wait here for Lawrence. Since Cassidy's here, I'll take her back later. She can look after you from now on."

"Perfect." Rachel's smile widened, her eyes sliding to me. "Cassidy has always been good at serving others. With her around, I'll feel much more at ease."

After all these years, she still knew exactly how to twist the knife.

Humiliation burned hot across my face, but Steve only mistook it for jealousy.

"Enough. Stop nitpicking. Giving you a job is more than generous. If Rachel weren't so frail right now, my family wouldn't need another maid."

I laughed coldly. "Go ahead then. But Lawrence Becker will never invest in your company."

I'd long known the Spencer family had been in decline under Steve's management. They were desperately looking for investors now. What I hadn't expected was that they would dare set their sights on my husband.