Ivan was silent for a long time before he finally replied, "He only saw my mother as family. His care for her came from a sense of responsibility, not love. Leaving was a form of liberation for both of them."

"What about us? Will we end up like that?" Alyssa asked and stared directly into Ivan's face, determined not to miss even the slightest change in his expression.

Deep down, though, she already knew the answer.

"No, we won’t. I’m not my father. I will always love you, Alyssa." Ivan denied the possibility without hesitation, his expression one of wounded pride, tinged with faint sorrow.

'But Ivan, you already have,' she answered inwardly.

Alyssa swallowed her sadness. She knew she wouldn’t get the truth from him, so she chose not to press further.

After taking her back to the bedroom, Ivan left, saying he needed to work in the study. What he was really doing, Alyssa neither knew nor cared.

She lay in bed, closing her eyes in a futile attempt to sleep. But no matter how hard she tried, rest wouldn’t come.

The place that once brought her security and happiness now felt suffocating.

She heard the bedroom door open softly. Ivan approached, placing a light kiss on her forehead before tucking her in. Then, he left.

Moments later, the sound of a car engine outside completely shattered her hopes of sleep.

Sitting up in bed, she stared blankly at her phone. Ten minutes passed before her screen lit up with an incessant stream of notifications—not from social media this time, but from direct messages.

Her fingers hovered over a photo for a long while. She knew opening it would reveal something she didn’t want to face, but she forced herself to tap it anyway.

One glance, and her stomach churned violently. She rushed to the bathroom, vomiting in anguish.

But the images were seared into her mind, refusing to leave.

As if the photos weren’t enough, messages continued to flood in, now including videos.

The sound in the videos was even more damning than the pictures.

Ivan’s voice, laced with excitement, and the subtle movement of his Adam’s apple left no room for denial.

Alyssa couldn’t bear to listen any longer. She exited the app, trembling.

It took her a long time to lift her head and face the mirror, staring at her pale and gaunt reflection.

She couldn’t reconcile the man with strange desires in the videos with the gentle, considerate person she thought she knew.

A memory from early in their relationship suddenly surfaced.

One time, Ivan had taken her to a party at a bar. During the evening, a drunken man, completely out of control, began causing a scene. His aggressive behavior startled her, and she wanted to leave, but the man blocked her path.

His lecherous eyes roamed over her as he sneered, "You’re a pretty one, but too uptight. Let me teach you how to loosen up."

That was the moment Ivan returned. Hearing the man’s words, he immediately stepped between them, shielding her and glaring at the offender.

When the man refused to back down, Ivan grabbed a bottle from the table and smashed it over his head.

The scene was terrifying. Alyssa had to intervene, fearing things would escalate further.

As they left the bar, the man shouted after them, "Ivan, stop pretending you’re different! You’re just like us—if anything, you’re worse!"

Alyssa had heard every word, and the ride home was marked by an unsettling silence.

Sensing her discomfort, Ivan had repeatedly apologized and assured her, "Alyssa, trust me. I’m not like that. I would never do such things."

"I didn’t know he was that kind of person. I promise I’ll never associate with him again."

Though her instincts told her something was off, his sincerity eventually softened her heart.

But now, in the dead of night, she could no longer ignore the truth staring back at her.

After that incident, Ivan indeed stopped associating with those people and was very respectful of her boundaries in their relationship. Over time, Alyssa gradually forgot about it.

Looking back now, the rumors of his playboy past didn’t come out of nowhere. Perhaps he hadn’t directed those tendencies toward her, but what about others? Was Monica the first?

A wave of nausea washed over her, goosebumps prickling her skin. Ivan had lied to her yet again—this time not just with empty promises, but with something filthy.

Returning to her bedside, Alyssa pulled out her diary and carefully recorded the third and fourth betrayals.

Monica’s messages had stopped coming. No doubt the two of them were too engrossed in their games to bother with her.

Closing her diary, she opened an app on her phone to manage her daily messages. One private message stood out.

[Congratulations on your upcoming wedding with the person you love! But I have to ask, will you still update your relationship series?]

Alyssa didn’t respond. Scrolling down, she found more messages asking the same question.

Years ago, when online storytelling began to surge in popularity, Alyssa had seized the opportunity to share her and Ivan’s love story. The serialized posts chronicled every detail of their journey together.

The stark contrast between their backgrounds—an ordinary girl and a man from a wealthy family—had captivated readers. Early on, some skeptics mocked her, calling it “a Cinderella fantasy written on her deathbed.”

But when their relationship became public, and she confirmed the story was autobiographical, the derision transformed into widespread admiration. When she announced her engagement recently, her comment section had been flooded with heartfelt congratulations from fans.

Now, though, the praise felt hollow.

She knew her fans cherished the raw sincerity of her story. But now, she couldn’t bring herself to perpetuate the lie.

After a long moment of hesitation, she posted an announcement.

[This account will cease updates permanently starting today. All previous content will be deleted soon. Thank you to everyone who supported and enjoyed my work. Perhaps we’ll meet again someday, somewhere.]

Ignoring the immediate influx of private messages asking for an explanation, she began deleting the posts one by one. There were thousands.

With each deletion, scenes from her relationship with Ivan replayed in her mind. Once, his love for her had been real. Now, his infidelity was just as real.

Midway through her task, the door suddenly burst open.

Ivan stormed in, his presence cold and intense, his whole body trembling. "Alyssa, why are you deleting the content from that account?"

Alyssa froze. She had never told Ivan about the account. How did he know?

Looking him straight in the eye, she asked calmly, “When did you find out about this account?”

His face went pale, his gaze faltering. After a long pause, he finally admitted, “I found it while I was pursuing you.”

“But that’s not important,” he quickly added, his voice tinged with grievance. “What matters is that this account records our love story. It’s precious. Why are you deleting it?”

There was something in his tone—a mix of hurt and indignation—that made her uneasy.

So he had known about the account while he was chasing her. That meant he had seen all her vulnerabilities and doubts laid bare.

Had everything he’d done after that been genuine? Or carefully calculated?

Alyssa didn’t dare delve too deeply into the truth.

Swallowing her pain, she suppressed her emotions and looked at him again, her expression calm and composed.

“There’s no special reason,” she said evenly. “I’ve been too busy to keep up with it, and it’s been weighing on my mind. Deleting it will be one less thing to worry about.”

Hearing her response, Ivan breathed a sigh of relief. He stepped forward, pulling Alyssa into a tight embrace, resting his head on her shoulder.

“Let’s keep it, okay? These are the records of our love. If you don’t have time to manage it, I can find someone to take care of the account for you.”

“Just think—when we’re old, sitting by the lake, looking back at these memories, it’ll make us so happy.”

He was still weaving dreams of their future together, completely unaware that he had already destroyed it with his own hands.

Alyssa mocked him silently in her heart, mentally marking this as the fifth betrayal. Outwardly, she nodded in agreement, knowing that if she didn’t, Ivan would become suspicious. All she could do now was pray he would use up all eight of his chances quickly so she could finally walk away.

Breaking free from his embrace, she sneezed lightly and feigned curiosity.

“Where did you go just now? Why is there such a chill clinging to you?”

Ivan immediately looked aggrieved, like a puppy seeking comfort. He sighed.

“There was an urgent issue at the office, so I had to go out and handle it. It’s such a pity—I didn’t get to hold my baby while sleeping tonight.”

“But you’re my top priority. The moment I received your message, I dropped everything and rushed back. Nothing is more important than you.”

His affectionate words flowed effortlessly, accompanied by an Oscar-worthy performance. No wonder he had fooled her for so many years.

In the days that followed, Ivan took her casual remark about being “busy” to heart. He personally handled all the arrangements for their upcoming wedding. When the wedding planners came to discuss details at their home, he suggested various ideas that catered to her preferences—everything from the color scheme of the venue and nighttime fireworks to the type of flowers and even the texture of the carpet to ensure it wouldn’t trip her up.

Alyssa occasionally came downstairs to observe, only to be swept into his arms, fussed over, and fed fruit. The wedding planning team often cast her envious glances, commenting, “President McCartney and Miss Saunders share such a beautiful relationship. His love for her is written all over his face.”

“Miss Saunders, you’re so lucky. Men like President McCartney—handsome, wealthy, and devoted—are rare. He’ll surely make a great father someday, too.”

Hearing this, Ivan furrowed his brows, a hint of disapproval in his expression.

“You’ve got it wrong. I’m the lucky one—lucky that Alyssa chose me.”

“As for children, that’s entirely up to her. She’s afraid of pain, and I would never force her.”

A wave of flattery followed his words, but no one noticed Alyssa’s indifferent expression throughout, as if she were merely an outsider.

After sitting with them for a while, she found the noise unbearable and quietly retreated to her room.

An hour later, Ivan entered the room, wrapping his arms around her and acting spoiled.

“Aly, there’s a friend’s birthday party tonight. Will you come with me? I want to introduce you to the people in my circle.”

Alyssa had never liked such occasions. Even after years with Ivan, she still felt out of place among his social circle.

Just as she was about to decline, Ivan nuzzled into her embrace, his eyes shimmering with faux tears.

“Please, Aly. Everyone else will be bringing their partners. If I go alone, I’ll look so pitiful.”

The words she was about to say caught in her throat. After a moment’s hesitation, she reminded herself that she hadn’t left him entirely yet. For now, she still had to keep up appearances.

Seeing her nod in agreement, Ivan’s face lit up with joy. He waved his hand, and a professional styling team filed into the room.

Gorgeous, expensive jewelry and designer outfits dazzled her. Alyssa didn’t resist, allowing the team to work on her. Occasionally, she nodded to indicate her approval, though her interest was minimal.

When they arrived at the party, hand in hand, all eyes turned to them.