The night Ethan's proposal succeeded, Nina wrote through clenched teeth:

"Does true love really have to be bound by worldly conventions? I won't admit defeat!"

The day Clarissa tried on her wedding dress, Nina wrote through tears:

"That wedding dress looks even more beautiful when I wear it. He said he thinks so too."

Who "he" was needed no explanation.

The dull ache in Clarissa's chest twisted into something sharper—a blade churning through her insides until every organ screamed.

Nina had seeped into his life long ago. Only Clarissa had been kept in the dark.

Ridiculous. She'd been foolishly dreaming of a future with him this whole time.

The friend request popped up again.

[Clarissa, it's okay if you don't want to add me. I just wanted to tell you—the invitation's been delivered. Remember to come to the wedding!]

The piercing doorbell yanked her back to reality.

The delivery person handed her a thick envelope.

She tore it open. A sea of red burned her eyes.

It was the invitation Ethan had personally designed.

He'd handled everything wedding-related so she could focus on her research in peace.

But now, her name had been crudely crossed out. Nina's name scrawled in its place.

Even the couple's photo on the cover—Clarissa's half had been cut away, Nina's face pasted over it.

She did this on purpose.

Clarissa approved the friend request and typed furiously:

[What is this supposed to mean?]

Nina sent an emoji of a girl covering her mouth, giggling:

[Finally willing to accept?]

[You got the invitation? We were just short on time, so it had to be handled this way. Don't mind it, okay?]

The smugness oozed through the screen.

Clarissa ground her teeth:

[Don't worry. I'll be there to give you my blessings.]

Nina stared at her phone and laughed softly.

Ethan's long fingers toyed with the hair at her temple, his voice lazy. "What's so funny?"

She burrowed into his arms, her voice sweet and perky. "Nothing. I just think... the way you're treating Miss Henson, she's a little pitiful."

"She just got our wedding invitation. She's probably heartbroken right now."

After Clarissa left, Ethan had told Nina everything—how he'd been faking the amnesia all along.

For a woman he could easily control, there was no need to hide it.

As for Clarissa—

She'd stayed by his side for years. Even when he hit rock bottom, she never left.

How could she possibly bear to leave him now?

Her wounded expression outside the hospital room flashed through his mind. He deliberately ignored the faint pang in his chest and snorted.

"Don't meddle. When I've had my fun, I'll go back to her."

He'd just had a thoroughly satisfying round with Nina, still drenched in sweat.

He was in a great mood, humming as he headed for the bathroom.

He didn't notice the flash of resentment and malice in the woman's eyes behind him.

…

On the wedding day, Ethan spotted Clarissa in the guest seats at a single glance.

She actually came?

Irritation flared through him for no reason. His hand tugged his bow tie looser.

Nina reminded him softly, "The ceremony's about to start. What are you thinking about?"

Clarissa stared blankly at the stage.

She was sitting in the front family section—the seats closest to the altar.

Nina had arranged it specially. She wanted Clarissa to witness with her own eyes: their wedding had become his and Nina's.

Clarissa didn't understand why she'd come.

She'd woken up that morning and walked out as if possessed, her feet carrying her to this familiar address.

The wedding setup was exactly what Ethan had finalized with the planning company.

Nothing had changed. Even the flowers were still gardenias—her favorite.

It's just that now, the person standing on stage beside him is no longer her.

Whispers drifted from behind.

"The bride is gorgeous. That dress must've cost a fortune."

"The groom ordered it from Milan! And did you see her ring? He flew to South Africa and picked out the diamond himself."

Murmurs of amazement rippled through the crowd.

"But wasn't there supposed to be a different bride? Switched out at the last minute?"

The words bored into Clarissa's ears. Her nails dug deep into her palm, but she didn't feel a thing.

Ethan had always hated seeing her wronged. Whenever anyone whispered about her, he'd shut them down without a second thought.

But now—who was he holding? Who was he gazing at so tenderly?

Wait.

Her eyes locked onto Nina.

The pink diamond Ethan gave her—she'd kept it safe. So what was that ring on Nina's finger?

He must have heard the chatter below, because his gaze swept over—casual, deliberate.

"Don't spread rumors."

In front of everyone, he lifted Nina's hand.

"This is the only pink diamond I found."

"Anything else out there?" A pause. "Probably glass."

The hall erupted.

Clarissa thought she'd misheard.

The "Heart of True Love" she'd treasured like a priceless gem—glass?

The stage lights blazed too bright. Tears spilled before she even realized.

She rose to leave, but Nina blocked her path, wineglass in hand.

That harmless smile. "Clarissa, I thought you wouldn't come. Our wedding would've been incomplete without you."

Clarissa's laugh was cold. "You sent that invitation just to gloat, didn't you?"

"What's wrong—afraid your little family reunion doesn't have enough of an audience?"

Her voice wasn't loud, but the entire hall went silent.

Nina's grip on the wineglass tightened. She leaned closer, voice dropping. "He and I share a mother, Clarissa. You'll never compete with that."

"Besides," contempt flickered beneath Nina's smile, "you've only kept him around by guilt-tripping him over healing his hand."

"All these years you've had him trapped—don't tell me you actually thought he loved you."

"Oh, and one more thing." Her smile sharpened. "Your miscarriage wasn't an accident."

Something inside Clarissa snapped.

Her voice shook. "What did you say?"

Before she could even reach for Nina, Nina pitched backward.

She crashed into the champagne tower a server had just wheeled over—glass shattering, shards scattering across the floor.

"Nina!"

Ethan vaulted off the stage.

That face—always so composed—was now twisted with panic.

He looked up, eyes bloodshot, and glared at Clarissa.

"What the hell did you do?"

He helped Nina up gently. She was a mess—palm sliced open, blood welling through the cuts.

A single tear slid down Nina's cheek. "Clarissa, I only wanted your blessing. If you couldn't give it, fine—but why push me?"

Ethan closed the distance in one stride. His hand clamped around Clarissa's wrist, grinding the bone.

The same face she knew so well—but the expression was foreign. Terrifying.

His voice turned to ice. "Apologize."

Nina's words still echoed in her skull.

A few months ago, Clarissa had welcomed their first child with indescribable joy.

Then she'd lost it.

She'd blamed herself—the overtime, the irregular hours, the chemical exposure in the lab.

She'd cried all night, drowning in guilt.

It never occurred to her there could be another reason.

She didn't answer him. Instead, she met his eyes and spoke, word by word:

"Ethan. Was my miscarriage really an accident?"

Panic flickered across his face.

"What nonsense is this? I don't even know you!"

"Tell me!"

She grabbed his collar. In the struggle, her hand connected with his cheek—a sharp, ringing slap.

The room went silent.

He stared at her in disbelief. When had anyone ever humiliated him like this?

"You've lost your mind. Who would want a child with a woman like you?" His voice turned cold. "Get this lunatic out of here!"

He waved his hand. She lost her balance and slammed into the corner of a table. Blood ran down her forehead.

She didn't feel the pain. She laughed instead—laughed until tears spilled over.

No wonder he hadn't looked sad when she miscarried. He'd only said, with that calm face:

"You're still young. There will be other children."

So he'd never wanted their baby at all. He'd killed it with his own hands.

Looking at her ashen face, Ethan felt something twist in his chest. He opened his mouth to speak—

Security arrived.

She let them haul her up like a puppet, her body slack, her eyes vacant.

"Ethan, my hand hurts so much…"

Nina's voice came from behind him.

He stopped mid-step. Turned around.

"Hurry and bandage it. The wedding has to continue."

Nina wasn't about to waste this chance.

He shoved down the inexplicable unease clawing at him and fixed his attention on her. He'd almost forgotten—today's main characters were him and Nina.

As for Clarissa, she could calm down first.

They threw her out like trash.

Even her glasses were smashed.

She picked them up, wiped the lenses, and raised her eyes to the sky. Gray-white, like her heart.

There had once been a piece of flesh growing on that heart—a piece called Ethan Vance. Now it had rotted through.

Time to cut it out.

Her phone buzzed. A calendar reminder: the closed experiment was about to begin.

This phase had been designed specifically to develop treatment for Ethan's hand condition. Cases like his—psychologically induced—were rare. She'd never been able to gather enough volunteers for drug trials, so she'd been stuck running animal tests.

This wedding was a reminder. Maybe it was time to shift her research direction.

After all, research was her livelihood. The love affairs needed to be set aside.

Sterling's proposal deserved serious thought.

Her advisor texted, urging her back to the lab.

She replied: There's one last thing. After that, I'll officially start the experiment.

She took a cab to the cemetery.

Her child was buried there—the one who'd never taken shape. The last bond between her and Ethan.

She was going to say goodbye. To the baby. To the past fifteen years.

The sky darkened. Cold evening wind cut across her face, icy and damp. She climbed hundreds of steps, her legs growing heavier with each one.

The headstone had no name. No photo.

The urn beneath it was pitifully small. When they'd cremated the remains, that handful of ashes hadn't even filled her palm.