So, that woman… She was tall and she loved green onions, huh?

I grabbed my car keys without hesitation and headed out. "Clarke, I’m going to Louis’s office."

I had to see for myself what kind of woman could steal the heart of a man who had loved me for six years.

A thousand possibilities flashed through my mind.

Maybe she was a secretary desperate for a promotion. Or some innocent, fresh-faced intern. Perhaps even a rising actress, hoping to climb her way into the Altair Family.

But none of those guesses were right.

Louis had been on set recently, filming a commercial for the company.

When I arrived, one look was all it took.

In that moment, I knew Louis and I were truly finished.

Laura Madison.

Five-foot-nine, long curly hair. The face of the campaign. To be exact, a model with a disability. Her left calf was fitted with a sleek prosthetic.

And that was when it clicked. Louis’s late mother had also been disabled.

As the illegitimate son of the Altair Family, life had never been easy for him. Surrounded by legitimate heirs, he had grown up under constant ridicule.

"Your mother’s a cripple, so you must be too."

"Why should the bastard son of a cripple compete with us?"

Because of his mother’s condition, Louis had lived his entire childhood under scorn and cruelty.

Until one day, she couldn’t take it anymore. Broken by despair, she had jumped from a thirty-story building.

Louis had once confessed bitterly, "If you were so fragile, you never should have had me on a whim."

"Sometimes I think people with disabilities don’t deserve to have children."

"They’re destined to carry heavier burdens than most… and their children inherit them too."

And yet, here he was—falling in love with a woman who shared that same struggle.

A man who had endured so much pain was helpless now, swept away by feelings he couldn’t fight.

Even imagining their story pierced me like a thousand needles.

As I approached, Louis looked stunned when he saw me. "Claire, what are you doing here?"

My eyes met Laura’s, who was also observing me. "I came to visit."

To my surprise, Laura spoke first, her voice poised and graceful. "So, this must be Mr. Altair’s fiancée, Ms. Claire Harris?"

"Seeing you in person… you’re even lovelier than I imagined. It’s a pleasure. I’m Laura Madison, the lead model for this campaign."

It struck me then—aside from the prosthetic, Laura was bright, confident, radiant, just like any anyone else.

So this is why, Louis?

He avoided my gaze, shifting uncomfortably.

Standing tall in her ten-centimeter heels, Laura looked down at me with a smile.

Her words sounded admiring when she said, "I’ve always envied women like you, Ms. Harris—so petite, so delicate."

"Unlike me, towering over everyone."

I looked at her—standing almost shoulder to shoulder with Louis, who was six-foot-two—and I caught the flicker of challenge in her gaze. I only smiled, said nothing and slid straight into Louis’s chair, crossing my arms.

"Go on with the shoot. I’m just here to watch."

But then, something went terribly wrong during the shoot.

The male model, whose last scene only required a simple embrace with Laura, suddenly grabbed her and forced his lips onto hers.

His hands roamed roughly as he growled, "Stop acting so hard to get. I like you so much. Why won't you just be mine?"

"Ah!" Laura’s cry cut through the air as her clothes were being torn.

In a flash, Louis lunged forward. He yanked the man off her and landed a brutal punch that split his lip open.

Crew rushed to cover Laura with clothes as she trembled and shaken.

Louis’s eyes blazed red with fury, his rage blinding him as the man cried out, "Stop! Please, I was wrong!"

Smack! Smack! Smack!

His fists landed slammed down again and again, the dull thuds echoing through the room.

Louis Altair radiated a wild, dangerous energy, like a raging lion. I had only seen that look once before—back then, when members of the Altair Family threw rocks at me as I tried to shield him.

Now, the male model lay bloodied, his breaths shallow. Louis’s fists only came down harder, more brutal, with every strike.

I couldn’t hold back any longer, so I rushed forward and grabbed him. "That’s enough, Louis!"

"Get out of the way! This jerk deserves to die!" he roared, shoving blindly without realizing it was me.

By the time he snapped back to himself, I had already hit the ground hard. Both of my palms were scraped raw.

"Claire!" Louis finally let go of the man and hurried to help me up.

I drew in a shaky breath, fighting the sting at the tip of my nose. The dust from the gravel clung to my palms, but the ache felt like it had settled deep in my heart.

He reached to steady me, but froze the moment he heard Laura’s soft sobbing.

His fists tightened into fists. As if determined, he muttered, "Claire, I’ll take him to the hospital for a checkup. The police will want a statement later."

But his eyes kept flicking back to her.

It seemed as if he could barely stop himself from running straight to her.

The sting in my palms spread until it consumed my entire wounded heart.

Finally, the words came out of my lips. "Louis, I’m hurt too."

"You have so many people working under you, so why must you handle this yourself?"

"You even got into a fight. Do you realize you represent the entire Altair Family?"

No one knew better than I did how hard Louis had worked to get this far. For years, every step he took was measured, cautious, careful.

And now?

A bloody scratch marred his face. Sweat and rage soaked his dark hair to his forehead. His eyes, rimmed red, still burned with fury.

Was this raging man really the same composed, untouchable Louis Altair the world knew?

My voice broke as I nearly shouted, my chest rising and falling.

The staff whispered around us, staring. My dear fiancé, the man I had loved for six years, stood there, consumed with worry for another woman.

How could I not feel furious?

However, Louis only let out a heavy sigh, his voice tired.

"Claire, you need to understand. That’s sexual assault. Laura was in danger at work. As her boss, I couldn’t just stand by. It’s not something small." His eyes carried a warning as he looked at me.

At that moment, what else could I say?

My shoulders slumped as I watched him walk toward her.

He leaned close and whispered words of comfort.

By the time my sister arrived to pick me up, she caught sight of the shaken expression I couldn’t hide.

The second our car pulled away from the set, my phone buzzed nonstop with notifications.

[CEO of Altair Group Beats Up Molester on Set] sat at the top of the trending news.

When I opened it, the feed was already overflowing with crystal-clear photos of Louis shielding Laura, striking the man and finally draping his coat around her trembling shoulders.

The comments section was in an uproar.

[Gosh! Louis Altair is so manly. So protective!]

[He personally stepped in for his employee. I feel safe just watching this!]

[Am I the only one who thinks Louis and the model look perfect together? They’re both tall, striking—like they walked out of a magazine shoot. Business tycoon x gorgeous, resilient model… OMG, I’m obsessed! Come on, just get married already!]

My fingers hovered over the glaring words look perfect together.

Then a quiet comment with an attached screenshot caught my eye. [Look @lulusecretcorner, there’s a surprise.]

Curiosity pulled me in. The account was brand new, barely a history.

Its latest post was from just yesterday. [He praised me for being brave today.]

In the photo, a frail hand offered a steaming cup.

And on that wrist gleamed the watch I had given Louis for his birthday last year, the one that had sold for over a million dollars at auction.

The watch even had both our names engraved on it.

Scrolling further, I found another post that said, [Rehabilitation was painful, but remembering him saying, "Imperfection is also beauty," gave me strength again.]

The attached photo showed a man carefully applying oil to her prosthetic limb—a gesture so intimate.

Beside him sat a familiar bottle of hand cream, the woody-scented one I had bought for Louis.

My chest tightened as though gripped by an icy hand, the suffocating pressure only growing stronger.

So all that tenderness and care I thought belonged only to me… had already been poured into someone else.

Late that night, a sound came from the front door.

Louis froze when he saw me sitting there in the dark. "Claire? Why are you sitting in the dark?"

The glow from my phone lit my pale face. "Louis, explain this. Whose story is posted in @lulusecretcorner?"

His expression stiffened and he stepped toward me, voice strained. "Claire, it’s not what you think."

I pulled my hand back, forcing a bitter smile. "Not what I think?"

I thrust the screen toward him. "Look at this—watch, these cufflinks, the hand cream. I gave all of these to you. You used my gifts to comfort another woman and told her 'imperfection is beauty'?"

My eyes burned, but I refused to let the tears fall.

He knelt down, trying to meet my gaze, his eyes soft and pleading. "Laura is fragile. She’s disabled and she’s been through so much. As her boss, I just wanted to be kind, to encourage her. Those words were only meant to comfort her, to keep her from feeling ashamed."

He reached for me, but I pulled away. "To be kind? You call it kindness when you bring her hot drinks yourself, when you rub lotion on her and praise her for her courage?"

My voice shook. "And when you told me I was 'so small,' weren’t you comparing me to her? You're disgusting."

"Claire!" Louis’s voice cracked, raw and desperate.

"I never meant it that way. You’re the only one."

He drew in a deep breath, his tone dropping to a plea. "Yes, I admit—I pitied her a little. She reminded me of my mother. But I swear, I never crossed the line. Don’t you know where my heart truly belongs?"

I bit my lip, saying nothing as tears slid down my face.

He hated seeing me cry and the look on his face said more than words. Finally, he stood up and returned with a heavy wooden box.

"I wanted to give this to you on our wedding day."

Kneeling on one knee, he opened it—not to reveal jewels, but dozens of smooth little wooden carvings in various shapes. Rabbits, deer, pavilions, spires…

"I remember how your grandfather used to cheer you up with these," he said softly, lifting them out one by one like treasures. "This panda is from Greenwick—you told me you wanted one. This conch is from Solmere…"

There were fifty-two in total, each tied to the places he had traveled for work or the places we had gone together, each reflecting some offhand preference I had once mentioned.

"You once said that with your grandfather passed, no one would make these for you anymore."

When he looked up, his eyes mirrored my tears. He said solemnly, "Claire, your grandfather may be gone, but I'm here. I’ll love you in the same way he once made you feel cared for."

His words pierced through the walls I had built around myself.

He had remembered everything.

I wavered, shaken. Was Laura really nothing more to him than the shadow of his mother?

At last, I nodded. "Okay, Louis, I’ll believe you, but you have to promise me one thing. No more contact with Laura outside of work."

He pulled me into his arms. "Okay, I promise, baby. I promise."

He kissed my tears away, again and again as if he could erase the hurt with each touch.

That night, I texted my sister. [Clarke, I’ve decided to trust Louis again.]

And Louis Altair, true to his word, made a public statement right after.

"Laura Madison and I are not in the kind of relationship people have been speculating about. I’ll be marrying my fiancée in three days. I hope you’ll give us your supports."