“Mom, I want to call off the wedding.”

Asteria Mitchell’s voice trembled as she spoke, the weight of her decision pressing down on her. The call reached her mother, far away overseas.

Isabelle was silent for a moment before her voice came through, steady but with an undertone of acceptance. "Alright. I'm growing older, and my health isn’t what it once was. This family business will soon fall into your hands. The sooner you return, the sooner you can adjust."

Asteria's voice cracked, her attempt at feigned lightness falling short as a small sob escaped.

Her mother didn’t ask any more questions, only letting out a long, heavy sigh. "I thought that child was different, but in the end… he still walked the same path your father and I did."

Asteria stayed silent; her heart weighed down with sorrow.

Before tonight, she had truly believed Primo Chromos was different. They had grown up together as childhood sweethearts, their bond sealed at eighteen, a promise they both thought would last forever.

Primo was a rare gem in their social circle, standing as a beacon of virtue.

As the heir to the Chromos family, he was a far cry from the usual picture of indulgence and arrogance. Instead, he was known for his discipline, courtesy, and unwavering integrity.

Over their ten years together, Primo had never once been involved in any scandals, nor had he ever raised his voice in an argument with Asteria.

It was commonly said that, despite Primo’s quiet nature, his love for Asteria was unwavering, his devotion apparent in every unspoken gesture.

Yet, that night, the engagement party tore apart Asteria’s ten-year-long fantasy and laid bare the reality she hadn’t wanted to face.

Primo had made the fateful decision to invite the one person Asteria wished to avoid—her stepsister, Yesha Foster.

The moment Asteria saw Yesha, a flood of painful memories swept over her.

She remembered the day Yesha and her mother came, seeking to provoke them, her own mother breaking down in tears on the sofa, then leaving without a second glance.

Those two had slowly stripped away everything from her—humiliating and bullying her, day after day.

Overcome by a tidal wave of emotions, Asteria’s hand trembled, causing her wine glass to shatter. In a rush of instinct, she sought refuge behind Primo.

But this time, Primo shoved her aside, his voice cold and sharp as he reprimanded her, “Asteria, look at yourself! Apologize to Yesha right now!”

Asteria stood frozen, her mind reeling.

Following Primo's gaze, she noticed the faint stain of wine on Yesha's shoes.

The sight was more than Asteria could bear. With a sharp command, she called for security to drag Yesha out.

But Primo, his temper flaring for all to see, accused her of being drunk and losing control. He declared her unfit to be the future Mrs. Chromos.

In front of everyone, he left her standing there, humiliated, and walked away with Yesha.

Whether it was the alcohol or the sting of public humiliation, Asteria’s face burned with shame.

Unable to endure the mocking gazes and cruel whispers, she fled the engagement party, her heart heavy with disgrace.

She wandered aimlessly through the streets for over three hours, the biting wind seeping deep into her bones and her head pounding with every step. Finally, she found her way back to Willowcrest Manor.

If anyone else had appeared today, Asteria might have thought it was all just a misunderstanding.

She might have even been willing to give Primo another chance, to spend another decade or two at his side without expecting a thing in return.

But it had to be Yesha.

Yesha, the one who had stolen everything from her. Yesha, the person she despised more than anyone else in the world.

As Asteria made her way home, she struggled with the decision of whether to end the relationship.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, two familiar figures caught her eye through the window.

There, in her bridal chamber, was Primo, holding the woman she hated most in a tight embrace.

Her heart pounded in disbelief as Asteria pulled up the surveillance footage on her phone, revealing a sight that would haunt her forever.

Primo held Yesha in his arms, his voice thick with regret. “I regret it. If you’ll come back, I’m willing to call off the wedding.”

The words hit Asteria like a freight train, and she felt the world tilt beneath her. She crumpled to the ground, unable to support herself any longer.

When she regained her bearings, a sharp pain in her feet pulled her attention. She looked down to find her high heels soaked in blood.

These were the heels Primo had given her as an engagement gift. She had adored them, even though they were a size too small. After the long journey back, her feet were now covered in painful blisters, each one a cruel reminder.

After only a brief moment of hesitation, Asteria slipped off the shoes and tossed them into the trash.

Shoes that didn’t fit, no matter how beautiful, weren’t worth holding on to.

And a marriage that wasn’t right, no matter how much love had once been there, was no longer worth the fight.

With a steady resolve, Asteria made the difficult decision to release the man she had loved for over a decade.

But this wedding, the one she had dreamed of for years, had been her labor of love. Every detail had been carefully crafted, every moment planned with precision.

She couldn’t bear the thought of letting her hard work be a gift for those two.

After a moment of deliberation, Asteria chose to bide her time. On the wedding day, she would expose their shameful betrayal, delivering a “surprise” that would haunt them forever.

She forced herself to appear unaffected, pretending the betrayal didn’t sting.

Yet, her hands betrayed her, instinctively reaching for the surveillance footage once again.

Yesha, drunk and flushed, sprawled on the sofa in an almost pitiable state.

The very same Primo who had earlier scolded Asteria for her drinking, calling it beneath her, was now lovingly preparing sober-up soup for Yesha, feeding it to her with the kind of tenderness Asteria had once longed for.

Yesha refused to drink, a mischievous gleam in her eyes as she playfully kicked Primo. "Are you really going to marry Asteria?"

Primo, unfazed, gently took Yesha's foot in his hands and began to massage it, his touch tender and deliberate.

Yesha smiled, her expression one of satisfaction. "You don’t even need to say it. I already know you’re still angry with me. Everything you’ve done has been to push me away just so you could bring me back to you."

"All these years, you’ve never truly let go. This bridal chamber, decorated just the way I like it, the wedding ring you chose, and the high heels Asteria wore are all reminders that none of it ever really left me."

As she spoke, Yesha pressed her foot against Primo’s chest, a coquettish laugh slipping from her lips. "All along, the one you’ve truly loved has been me."

Asteria gripped her phone, her fingers tightening with an almost painful urgency.

Her heart felt as if it were being shredded in slow motion.

The most agonizing part? Even though she knew the truth, a small, foolish part of her still clung to the hope that Primo would stand by his principles in the end.

And then, as if to crush that fragile hope, Primo, who had been silent all this time, leaned in, capturing Yesha’s lips with a kiss.

It was slow, lingering, a kiss drenched in longing, in love that had festered beneath the surface for far too long.

Asteria couldn’t hold it in any longer. Her body trembled, a flood of tears spilling uncontrollably down her cheeks.

She remembered their ten years together, each attempt she made to kiss Primo, how he’d always turn his head away, just shy, just reserved.

Back then, Asteria believed it was nothing more than his modesty and quiet nature.

She never imagined that all the passion he’d kept locked inside was reserved for Yesha.

For ten years, they had shared a bed, countless stolen moments of closeness, yet Primo’s heart had remained firmly tied to his first love.

Asteria’s nails dug into her palms, the sharp sting a bitter reminder, each breath a struggle against the suffocating pain.

She couldn’t stand it any longer. With a shaky breath, she forced herself to her feet and stumbled toward the roadside.

Just as she was about to hail a cab, a voice cut through the air, sharp and familiar. Primo called her name, his voice sending a jolt through her heart.

Asteria turned slowly, her heart pounding in her chest.

The instant their eyes locked, Primo’s face flushed with a mix of surprise and guilt. He quickly dropped Yesha’s hand, stammering to explain himself.

“Y-You know, Yesha drank too much. It’s late, and it’s not safe for a girl to be out alone at night, so I just... brought her back here.”

“She’s your sister, after all. It’s only natural for me to look out for her. And, well, she’s a considerate girl. She left early, worried you might think the wrong things when you came home.”

Primo, usually a man of few words, suddenly became an open book whenever it came to Yesha.

Each sentence was a shield in her defense, a testament to his unwavering loyalty.

Asteria stared at him, the man she had known for over two decades, and in that moment, he felt like a stranger, someone unfamiliar, someone lost.

They were supposed to be childhood sweethearts, bound together through years of shared memories and promises. She was the fiancée who had stood by his side, weathering every storm and supporting him as he built his empire.

Yet, here she was, nothing more than a placeholder, a mere stand-in for the woman he had truly loved.

Asteria pressed her palms to her temples, the pain in her head overwhelming. The situation was too much to comprehend, and she couldn’t bear to think about it any longer. Her gaze fixed on Yesha, contempt boiling in her chest.

“She’s not my sister,” Asteria hissed, venom dripping from every word. “She’s the product of a mistress and now a mistress herself.”

Yesha fell quiet, but Primo’s anger ignited.

He moved swiftly, placing himself between Asteria and Yesha, his voice rising in a roar. “Asteria! What madness are you speaking? Apologize to Yesha, now!”

“No wonder your parents abandoned you. With that sharp tongue and poisonous attitude, it’s clear no one could ever love you. You deserve to spend your life alone!”

In the ten years they had shared, Primo had never once raised his voice at Asteria. Yet, in a single day, he had scolded her twice, both times for Yesha.

Asteria could hardly believe what she was hearing. These cruel words, so sharp and biting, came from the man she had trusted with her heart.

Each word felt like a dagger aimed straight at her deepest, most vulnerable spots. It pierced through her, leaving scars that wouldn’t fade.

She stared at Primo in disbelief, her tears falling freely as the weight of his words crushed her.

Her mind wandered back to years ago when they were just children.

Every time Asteria was scolded or hurt by Yesha’s parents, Primo was there rushing to her side, his small body shielding hers.

When her tears fell, it was Primo who would whisper, “Asteria, you’re the best person in the world. If they don’t want you, I do. No matter what happens, I’ll always stand by you and protect you.”

But years later, that once-vibrant promise had withered into nothing more than an empty jest.

Now, the one Primo wanted to protect wasn’t Asteria, but Yesha—the very one who had caused her so much pain.

The blade that tore through Asteria’s heart was one she had handed over herself.

Seeing the sorrow in Asteria’s eyes, Primo realized, too late, that he might have pushed her too far.

A wave of guilt swept over him, and he quickly averted his gaze, his eyes falling to her bloodied feet.

“You’re hurt?”

Despite the years that had passed, Primo still couldn’t fully harden his heart against Asteria.

He sighed, his voice heavy with frustration. “Forget it. Let’s just pretend everything you said tonight was because you were drunk. From now on…”

“There’s no ‘from now on.’” Asteria interrupted, her voice soft but resolute.

“What?”

A hint of unease crept into Primo’s voice as he sensed something was off with Asteria’s tone.

But the weight of the day had drained him, and his thoughts were consumed with Yesha, leaving him little room for Asteria.

Just as he was about to push further, he heard the unmistakable sound of Yesha crying.

Turning swiftly, he saw her running toward the middle of the road, tears streaming down her face.