After that, every year for his birthday, I not only bought Sawyer expensive gifts but also made something by hand, such as necklaces, bracelets, scrapbooks, and scarves.

I tried everything, but he never cared.

Mathilde posted this to taunt me. Whenever Sawyer and I had plans, she'd text him and make him ditch me.

Alone in the massive banquet hall, I opened bottle after bottle of vintage wine and downed them.

My stomach started to burn, but the alcohol dulled my pain.

This time, I swore I wouldn't forgive Sawyer.

...

I woke up with a pounding headache.

As expected, Sawyer didn't come home all night.

I didn't call him like I used to. Instead, I cooked myself a bowl of hangover soup, the same I had made for him when he came home reeking of booze after staying out all night.

Then I threw myself into work, trying to forget the pain he caused. Our company was about to go public, and this was a critical time.

I sipped my soup and typed on my laptop when Sawyer walked in. Staying up brought him dark circles, but his face radiated joy.

He jumped, surprised to see me awake at six in the morning. He nervously approached, peering at what I was doing and placing his hands on my shoulders to massage them.

I kept a stone-cold expression, not saying a word.

"You're up early today," he started. "Wanna go back to bed for a bit?"

He knew I was mad, so his tone was much softer than usual. "I'm sorry I left you yesterday, but I was worried about Mathilde. You know, she has no family or other friends here. And she saved me from drowning when we were kids. I owe her."

Seeing no reaction from me, Sawyer shut my laptop and pulled me onto his lap, cooing at me.

Once, his sweet talk would have softened me. Not this time.

"I've told you so many times. It wasn't Mathilde who saved you," I said. "Why wouldn't you believe me?"

"You're not saying you saved me again," he sulked. "I woke up in Mathilde's arms after nearly drowning. You don't need to lie."

He never believed me.

"You know what? We're done," I said. "Since you care about her so much, I won't stand in your way."

It was the first time in ten years I'd brought up breaking up.

Sawyer panicked. "I've told you a million times. Mathilde is just a friend. What are you freaking out about? She saved my life. You could at least help me look out for her instead of throwing a tantrum. Can you stop being so childish?"

I pushed him off me and started packing my things. "Not a tantrum. I mean it. I'll talk to our families and clear things up."

I kept spare clothes at my apartment near the company, so packing was quick.

Then I called my driver.

Sawyer probably thought I meant it. He grabbed my arm, tears welling up. "You're just mad about the engagement party, right? Let's have it next weekend."

I'd always hated seeing Sawyer cry.

It broke my heart, and this time was no different. Despite the pain, I still loved him.

As I reached to wipe his tears, his phone rang on the table.

I knew that ringtone all too well. Sawyer had set a special ringtone for Mathilde so that he'd never miss her calls.

My hand froze mid-air.

After taking the call, Sawyer grabbed his bag and rushed to put on his shoes.

"The doctor says Mathilde's fever spiked again," he said. "I gotta check on her. Be good and wait for me at home. I'm already exhausted from taking care of her."

He leaned in to kiss my cheek, but I dodged.

He wanted to say more, but his phone kept ringing. He glanced at me and left.

The scene was all too familiar, etched in my memory.

I'd planned to head to my apartment to catch up on work delayed by the engagement. Then my mom, Celeste O'Connor, called, insisting I come home.

They must have heard about the failed engagement party. They'd practically disowned me for embarrassing them. I didn't know why they suddenly wanted me back.

At the villa, my parents sat on the couch, as loving as ever.

Seeing them made my heart ache. Their happy marriage had once convinced me that if I gave enough, I'd have that happiness, too.

I'd given ten years and got nothing but heartbreak.

As I went to greet them, a sharp voice interrupted. It was Sawyer's mom, Linda Patterson.

She was dressed to the nines, her bright red nails gripping a cup.

"Elsie, did you upset Sawyer again?" she asked. "You grew up together. Knowing his temper, you should be more understanding."

Robert Patterson cleared his throat, seemingly to rein in his wife, but everyone knew they were two peas in a pod. They were playing good cop, bad cop.

Logically, our family's business was thriving. Without our support, the Pattersons would have gone under long ago.

But because I'd been so hung up on Sawyer, they thought they could walk all over us.

I knew they had been siphoning off our resources and stealing our deals behind our backs. My parents, though frustrated with me, couldn't just cut off their support, especially since I was dead set on marrying Sawyer. They had just turned a blind eye.

I figured this visit wasn't just about Sawyer. It was about money, too.

"Forget it. I'm not getting involved in your drama," Linda said, turning to my parents. "Actually, we're here about the company. We're strapped for cash. Since we'll be in-laws someday, a little help would benefit us all."

This wasn't the first time Sawyer's parents had come asking for money. They'd been addicted to gambling ever since they were sure Sawyer and I would marry.

My dad glanced at me, waiting for my stance.

Linda and Robert looked smug, but they were bound to be disappointed this time.