After Caesar Shepherd went overseas with his lover, Florence Lane, about a month passed with no news about Ivy Rivers.

Only then did Caesar realize something was wrong.

When he had time, he gave his secretary, Morgan, a call. "How's the wound on Ivy's leg? Is she still angry at me for taking her skin for Florence's skin graft?"

The opposite side of the line was quiet for a long time. Then, Morgan said softly, "Ms. Rivers was discharged from the hospital and left the residence a month ago."

Caesar finally remembered Ivy's eyes full of despair and determination on the day he protected Florence in his arms when the hotel collapsed.

That wasn't sorrow.

No.

That was goodbye.

In her tenth year under Caesar's sponsorship, Ivy got a job offer from an overseas company based in Weissland.

Her friends' voices still rang in her ears, the chatter full of disbelief as they tried to change her mind.

"Ivy, are you serious? You'll leave as soon as your visa is ready? Why?"

"Yeah, why? Mr. Shepherd treats you so well. It's been ten years! He's so attentive to your every need!"

"We all saw those ninety-nine proposals! They were unbelievably romantic! You never said yes, but Mr. Shepherd never gave up! If that's not true love, what is?"

"Is it because of Florence? Come on, she's just a new girl Mr. Shepherd's sponsoring. I heard her background is pretty tragic. He's just being nice. How could she possibly compare to you?"

"That's right, Ivy, don't be stupid. That's a decade worth of love! Mr. Shepherd cares about you so much! There's no way some clueless young woman could change that."

Love?

Ivy raised her eyes, looking past her chattering friends to the street across from them.

A familiar black car eased to the curb.

The man behind the wheel leaned over and tucked a strand of hair behind the young woman's ear, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Caesar Shepherd.

Florence sat beside him, looking at him with a smile, her eyes crinkling. From that perspective, she really did look like Ivy when she was at that age.

Caesar wore a relaxed, almost indulgent smile; one Ivy hadn't seen in a long time. When he looked at her lately, there was more exhaustion and impatience than anything else.

Her friends noticed too as they looked in the direction she was watching. Their voices faded, and the air at the table turned awkward.

"Maybe it's just a coincidence."

"Mr. Shepherd, he..."

Ivy looked away without an expression on her face. She took a sip of coffee and let the bitterness spread across her tongue.

"I'm a bit tired," she interrupted them. "I'll head home for now. I've already decided to go abroad."

She stood up and picked up her purse, forcing a faint smile. Before they could add another word, she left.

The afternoon breeze was warm, but it felt cold against her skin.

A decade…

She still remembered the day Caesar took her out of that run-down, moldy place she once called home. She had curled into a corner, barely daring to lift her head.

He taught her manners with endless patience, showed her prosperity, and gave her the best of everything. He spoiled her to the point she felt like a princess, almost forgetting who she had been.

Each of those ninety-nine proposals was grand and meticulously planned, like straight out of every girl's dream.

It wasn't that she felt nothing. She just never stopped feeling uneasy, like this happiness was a fragile dream. She told herself to wait, to become worthy of him, to make sure their love became indestructible.

When did it start to change?

It might have been a year ago, when he brought Florence home. He had ruffled Florence's hair and said half-jokingly, "Ivy, look! I found your little substitute. Funny, right?"

Or was it the first time Florence broke her music box on purpose? Ivy got angry, and Caesar frowned at her instead.

"Ivy, she's just a kid. She doesn't know any better. Let it go. It's just an old music box. If it's broken, I'll buy you a better one."

Or was it the times Ivy caught unfamiliar perfume on his shirt and saw ambiguous messages on his phone?

He never explained it. He just tried to buy her off with expensive gifts, then snapped out of irritation.

"Can you be reasonable once? I'm tired. I don't have the energy to comfort you every day."

Or was it during the ninety-ninth proposal, when he held her hand, but his eyes seemed far away under the stars?

"Ivy, it'll be a hundred soon. You'll say yes then, right?"

But the hundredth never came.

Instead, one night after he drank too much, he slung an arm around her and laughed. His tone had been dismissive and cruel.

"Ivy, I'll be honest with you. Even the best dishes will get boring after ten years. Just listen to me and wait. Once I'm done with this fresh experience, then we'll get married."

Boring.

The word drove straight into her chest.

Her last hope was shattered on her twenty-fifth birthday, a week ago.

Ivy had waited all night, but he never showed up.

All she got was a set of blurry photos from an unknown sender. Outside a hotel, Caesar had an arm around Florence's waist as they walked in together, too close to be mistaken.

For the first time in ten years, Caesar missed her birthday.

In that moment, something in her broke for good.

Ivy stopped. She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly.

She looked up through the leaves. The sky was so high, so blue.

She pulled out her phone, opened the email with the offer from the overseas company, and typed a single word in the reply box.

"Received."

It's time for her to wake up from this decade-long dream.

Ivy slid the last stack of documents through the window at the visa center.

The staffer flipped through them quickly and said, "All set. Everything's complete. The result will be out in a month. You'll get a text when it's time to pick your visa up."

Ivy nodded. "Thank you."

She turned around and was just going to leave.

"Where do you think you're going?!"

The shout cracked through the room, sharp with suspicion and surprise.

Ivy stopped and turned around.

Caesar stood a few meters away, face dark.

Florence was holding his arm tightly. When she saw Ivy turning around, she shrank behind him like she was scared.

But Ivy caught the spark in her eyes, like she was watching a performance.

Ivy opened her mouth, but Caesar cut her off. His voice was cold and impatient, like her plans were his to decide. "Good timing. Saves me from telling you later. There's an overseas auction at the end of the month. I'm taking Florence."

He glanced at Florence, his tone softening.

"She hasn't seen much of what this world has to offer, so I'll take her along to widen her horizons. You've been to those events too many times, and you're probably tired of them. So, don't go this time."

Ivy was stunned.

Just a week ago, he had his arms around her from behind in the study, his chin resting on the top of her head as he flipped through the auction catalog. He had even tapped a pink diamond and said, "This suits you. I'll use it for the hundredth proposal."

He had forgotten that fast.

Ivy looked at his distant face. Everything she wanted to say jammed in her throat.

She simply nodded, showing that she heard him.

"Wait." Caesar's tone was hoarse, and the way he talked to her sounded more like an order than anything else. "We'll leave together. The car's outside."

The familiar black Bentley waited at the curb. Out of habit, Ivy reached for the front passenger door.

Caesar's movement obviously slowed, and his brows furrowed.

"Caesar!" Florence cried, pointing at the bright pink Hello Kitty sticker on the back of the passenger seat, the one that used to mark that spot as hers. "Look, it's still here!"

Her voice was sweet, with a hint of showing off.

Ivy's hand froze in midair. She stared at the childish sticker, how it screamed against the car's calm luxury. It felt like something was gripping her heart. Heat surged into her nose and eyes.

She had sat in that seat for almost a decade.

Caesar glanced at Ivy, looking uneasy for a moment. However, his voice left no space for argument. "Florence gets carsick, and sitting in the back makes her uncomfortable. Just bear with it for a while and sit in the back."

Bear with it.

The words landed like numb pain spreading through her chest.

Ivy said nothing. She only nodded, pulled her hand back, and opened the rear door.

The inside was unrecognizable.

Pink wool cushions. A sweet, dizzying scent hanging in the air. The seat pocket, crammed with Florence's snacks.

Every trace of Ivy had been erased, replaced by another girl's bright, irritating taste.

The Bentley slipped into traffic.

From the front, their quiet conversation carried back to her.

"Is it cold in Northvia right now?"

"It is. I brought you that white mink coat. It'll be just nice."

"You're the best! Then we have to stay somewhere where we can see the snowy mountains."

"Alright. Whatever you want."

Each line was a knife, stabbing deeper and deeper into her heart.

Ivy turned her head and fixed her eyes on the streets sliding past the window, her nails cutting into her palm.

In her heartache, the present seemed to blur into the past.

Years ago, it had been this same car. The first time Caesar took her abroad, he had pointed excitedly at the unfamiliar scenery. He held her hand tight and shoved the plane tickets, hotel details, and itinerary into her hands.

"We'll go wherever you want in the future, side by side."

Back then, Ivy had been the only one in his eyes.

Screech!

Bang!

A brutal impact smashed into the car from the rear.

The world spun. A howl swallowed everything.

The Bentley lost control, spun, and slid sideways before stopping.

Ivy was trapped in the mangled back seat. Pain tore through her. She couldn't move, and every breath intensified the pain in her chest. Dense scent of blood flooded her nose, thick and metallic.

From the front came groans and frantic movement.

Then Caesar's voice, raw and shaking with fear.

"Florence? Florence! Answer me! Where are you? Don't be afraid, don't be afraid! Look at me, I'm here! An ambulance! Yes, call an ambulance!"

He had forgotten.

Someone was still in the back.

Ivy Rivers was still there.

With what little strength she had left, Ivy shoved herself through the gap at the crushed door, inch by inch, fighting the ripping pain through her body.

Blood blurred half her vision. Each movement dragged her closer to a blackout.

She finally broke free and collapsed onto the cold, rough road, gulping air, her whole body shaking.

She forced her head up.

The bright sunlight swamped her vision.

Caesar had Florence in his arms, moving carefully, like she was the most precious, fragile thing in the world. Stumbling, panicking, he ran to the ambulance that had just pulled up.

He didn't look back once at the car, almost nothing but twisted metal now.

He didn't remember that there was someone in the back seat.

Ivy lay sprawled on the road, face smeared with blood and dust. She stared as the ambulance doors slammed shut, cutting off those two figures. The siren rose as it sped away.

Warm blood slid down her forehead and dripped onto the road.

The hospital was in chaos.

Caesar almost roared as he grabbed the department head who had rushed over. "Save her! Save her first! Use the best medicine! The best doctors! Hurry!"

His eyes were bloodshot, his hands shook. All his fear and panic locked onto the person wheeled into the emergency room.

When things finally calmed down, a single thought slammed into his half-frozen mind.

Ivy!

His heart seized. He reached for his phone, trying to call his assistant and send him back to the crash site for her, but his fingers were stiff and clumsy.

Then, he turned and saw her. Ivy was stumbling toward him from the end of the hallway. She moved slowly, like every step was on broken glass.

The blood on her forehead had dried into dark streaks against her pale face as dust covered her clothes. She looked wrecked and weak.

Caesar felt a sharp pain in his heart as he almost ran to her, grabbing her arm. "Ivy. Are you okay? Where are you hurt? Just now, I..."

The words became jumbled. Seeing how white her face was, a late rush of panic hit him.

"Florence passed out! I didn't forget you! I didn't mean to!"

Ivy raised her eyes, but her gaze was empty. It landed on his face, but it was like she saw nothing at all.

She gently pulled her arm free and didn't answer.

That silence rattled Caesar even more. His eyes looked down without thinking, then they froze.

A long, ugly gash ripped Ivy's calf. The skin was peeled back in a gory fashion. A whole patch of bruises and scrapes spread around it, with blood and dirt mixed on her bruises. And just above it were older scars, pale against her fair skin.

He knew Ivy scarred easily. Even a small cut would leave a mark.

For a decade, he had protected her well. He had barely let her get hurt at all.

"Doctor! Come here, now!" Caesar's voice snapped as he dragged over a passing doctor. "Look at her! Use the best medicine and the best treatment! You can't leave a scar behind, you hear me?!"

He pressed a hand to Ivy's shoulder urgently, trying to steady her.

"Don't be afraid. It's alright.

Modern medicine has come a long way. It won't leave a scar."

Ivy looked at the fear and confusion in his eyes and felt dazed for a beat.

The door to the emergency room opened, and a nurse stuck her head out. "Mr. Shepherd! Ms. Lane is awake! She's emotionally very unstable and keeps crying. She says she wants to see you!"

Caesar was stunned and turned at once. The worry in his eyes shifted instantly.

The nurse added again in a whisper, "The cut on her cheek is deep and badly infected, with extensive tissue damage. Even after cleaning, it will be hard to heal normally… It may leave a permanent sunken scar and could even affect her facial muscles."

Florence's broken sobs carried from inside, raw and desperate.

Caesar's expression shifted repeatedly. He looked toward the ER, then whipped back to Ivy's leg. Turmoil was in his eyes.

Then, he walked over and stopped in front of Ivy like he had made up his mind. His voice came out dry and strained.

"Ivy... Florence's face is hurt. The doctor says she needs a small patch of healthy skin for a graft."

Ivy jerked her head up, staring at him as if she had misheard. She shook her head and took a step back.

"Just a small patch," Caesar said quickly.

He couldn't hold her gaze as his eyes kept sliding toward the emergency room, like Florence's sobs were pulling him by the collar.

"She's young. If her face is ruined, her life is over! Ivy..." He paused, and the next words seemed to scorch him, but he forced them out anyway. "Just consider it as you returning the favor. I've taken care of you for ten years, after all."

Returning the favor.

Those three words pierced through Ivy and tore her apart.

She stared at the man in front of her, so familiar but like a stranger at the same time. She saw the pain on his face as he worried for someone else. She saw her own torn leg, the wound he had just sworn would not leave a scar.

A bitter wave of hurt and despair rose in her chest and swallowed her whole.

She opened her mouth, but no voice came out.

In the end, she moved slowly and gave one small nod.

Caesar seemed to breathe out in relief. At the same time, he looked like something had caused him pain.

He turned his eyes away quickly and yelled at the doctor, "Quick! Arrange for the surgery! Use the best anesthetics! Don't let her feel any pain!"

Then, he rushed into the emergency room to comfort the crying girl.

Ivy was wheeled into the operating room. She closed her eyes, and a tear slipped down her cheek.

Before the anesthesia took effect, her last thought was that this was fine.

One patch of skin.

To give back the decade she owed him.

-

When Ivy woke up, she could still feel the effects of the anesthesia. Her head felt heavy and thick.

A deep ache pulsed in her leg.

She turned her head with effort.

In the hospital ward, Caesar sat on the couch across from her. However, his attention was fully on the slim figure in his arms.

Florence had gauze on her face. She was against his chest, sobbing quietly.

Caesar held her carefully, his fingers patting her back in a slow rhythm as he soothed her in a gentle voice. "Don't cry. It's over now. The graft went really well. There won't be a scar. I'm right here for you."

His voice was soft, and he was so focused. Florence was his entire world.

Ivy slowly looked away. Her fingers trembled as she lifted the edge of the blanket.

Thick layers of gauze wrapped her thigh.

At the edge, the exposed skin was swollen and red.

She had always been terrified of scars.

Now, she had one for real.

Her heart was in so much pain that she felt like a strip of flesh had been taken away.

But that was everything now.

One patch of skin.

A decade.

They were even now.