I used to care deeply about Sarah. As long as she asked, I was willing to give her anything, do anything for her, but now, she had personally given me a reality check.

Thinking back carefully, ever since Tim returned to the country, everything she did had been for him. She had forgotten that I was the one she was supposed to spend her life with.

My response clearly angered her.

“What do you mean by that?” she snapped. “You don’t want to? Get this straight—Tim is my best friend. You’d better make him happy, or I won’t marry you!”

With that, she slammed the door and left.

Feeling stifled and restless, I went downstairs to the park for a run. I had barely finished one lap when Summer called. Thinking of her cold, aloof face—the kind that looked like she was tired of the world—I hesitated for two seconds before answering.

The moment the call connected, she hit me with a verbal ambush.

“Once you’re on my boat, you’re mine. If you dare run, I’ll break your legs.”

I fell silent, not saying a word.

She continued calmly, “Send me your ID. I’ll get the paperwork done. I don’t want you backing out.”

Something was definitely off with Summer. In my mind, I had imagined ten thousand scenarios where she would use marriage as a convenient way to torture me.

In the end, all I could manage was, “See you at the wedding, Miss Flores.”

The moment I said that, a voice sounded behind me.

“You’re inviting Summer to our wedding? I won’t allow it!”

Sarah stared at me as if she were facing a great enemy.

“Henry, didn’t I tell you to cut all contact with Summer? Her intentions toward you aren’t as pure as they seem. If you insist on inviting her to our wedding, don’t blame me then for turning against you!”

I hadn’t even said a single word yet, and she had issued her ultimatum.

Sarah had always disliked Summer for reasons unknown. She harbored a strange hostility toward her. When we first got together, she had even gotten jealous because Summer and I used to exchange sarcastic messages online. After that, I gradually cut off contact with Summer. Yet now she was saying… Summer had ulterior motives toward me?

Just as I was about to question her, Tim suddenly leaned weakly against Sarah’s neck.

“Sarah, you’re hurting me…”

Only then did I notice that the two of them were walking hand in hand, fingers tightly intertwined.

Sarah coughed awkwardly but made no move to pull her hand away. Tim looked at her with deep affection before he turned to me with a helpless expression and apologized.

“Henry, I’m sorry. Sarah and I were just rehearsing the wedding. Please don’t misunderstand. As for the incident where you had someone beat me up and damage my mother’s grave, I won’t tell anyone about it. But please don’t hurt Sarah. Don’t put her feelings to the test.”

I had no interest in watching their act. I turned to leave.

“If you’re looking forward to it that much, I’ll have someone beat you up tonight and dig up your mother’s grave while I’m at it.”

Suddenly, Sarah struck me hard across the face.

“Henry, how can you be so vicious?” Her face darkened, her chest rising and falling with anger.

Me? Vicious? She believed someone else’s lies without question, yet five years of history between us couldn’t earn her trust.

A surge of anger flared in my chest. Just as I was about to confront her, Tim stepped in front of her.

“Henry, I’m begging you. Once the wedding is over, I’ll give Sarah back to you. Please, show mercy. Don’t hurt the people around me, and don’t hurt Sarah anymore.”

As he spoke, he moved as if to kneel. Sarah quickly wrapped her arms around his waist, stopping him, and glared at me furiously.

“Henry, stop using your rich-kid privilege to be a bully! You know how much I hate it. If you still want to marry me, stop putting up a fuss!”

She then warned me sternly not to appear in front of them again before the wedding, so I didn’t expect her to contact me the very next day.

She immediately launched into furious accusations. “Henry, I can’t believe you actually went and dug up Mrs. Ziegler’s grave. I never thought you were this kind of person!”

Full of confusion, I immediately called my assistant and told him to investigate the matter. What he uncovered shocked me to the core.

Tim’s mother wasn’t dead at all.

No wonder Tim could be so utterly deranged as to dig up his mother’s grave just to frame me. As it turned out, the whole “death” was a lie.

I sent Sarah a message.

“Tim’s mother isn’t dead. The truth is in the email I sent you.”

Whether she chose to read it or not was no longer my concern. My flight was booked for three days later. Summer had done the booking.

When Sarah returned home, she saw me packing. Half my clothes had been thrown away, and a small portion had been boxed up and shipped to South City.

“Why are you packing?” she asked, her expression uncertain.

I brushed it off by replying, “Moving.”

She paused briefly but didn’t sense anything wrong. Instead, she continued on her own.

“The Grants’ business is in South City. After we get married, we’ll be moving there anyway. It makes sense to start packing early.”

Then, her gaze sharpened as she looked straight at me.

“About Tim’s mother, you need to apologize as soon as possible. Don’t put me in a difficult position. Why don’t you do it on the wedding day? What do you think?”

After saying that, she tossed her phone aside and went to look for her ID. Today was the day she and Tim were registering their marriage, so she didn’t come back all evening.

When I picked up my phone, a message from Tim popped up immediately. It was a dimly lit photo of a woman. In the picture, Sarah was wearing a maid's outfit, looking straight into the camera. I closed my eyes. Despite myself, a sharp pain pierced my heart. I forced that feeling down and turned off the screen.

Late at night, the phone beside my pillow vibrated once every hour. Each time it buzzed, it was another video from Tim—videos of him and Sarah, sent deliberately to provoke me.

It wasn’t until the next morning that Summer sent me a message.

“Mr. Grant, the flowers have bloomed. You may return at your leisure.”

Attached was a photo of two marriage certificates and a pot of vibrant red peonies. I hadn’t expected that the flower I had casually given her years ago was still being kept alive. For some reason, a strange feeling rose quietly in my chest.

I replied, “Okay.”

I put my phone down and started organizing my laptop and work files, only to realize at some point that Sarah had returned.

She was packing her daily necessities as she spoke. “I’m going to stay with Tim for a few days. He can’t handle preparing the wedding alone. Don’t forget to attend the wedding the day after tomorrow. Be on time. Don’t be late.”

After that, she launched into a long explanation—nothing more than insisting she was just helping out and warning me not to cause trouble again.

“I won’t be going,” I said quietly, my eyes lowered.

After everything that happened last night, the last trace of affection I had for her was gone.

Seeing how calm I was, an inexplicable sense of panic swept over Sarah. She hesitated, but then she thought of Tim’s clingy behavior, and the hand gripping her phone slowly relaxed. She knew I loved her so much. What could possibly go wrong?

With that thought, she let out a breath, and walked out of my sight. I watched as she walked out and dialed a number.

That very night, a helicopter landed in the city plaza.

A man stepped forward. “Mr. Grant, the helicopter you booked has arrived. It will safely deliver you to South City in thirty minutes.”

I nodded, then handed him a sealed document envelope.

“Deliver this to the wedding tomorrow,” I said calmly. “It’s my wedding gift to the bride and groom.”