Ethan Carter pulled Isabella Moore along as they came over to congratulate me.

“Claire, congratulations on winning the championship just as you wished! You were stunning on stage today!”

Isabella’s gaze swept down to my feet before she also offered her congratulations.

I smiled faintly, meeting Ethan’s eyes.

“Thank you.”

And silently, I hope you get what you wish for in this lifetime too.

To celebrate my victory, Ethan insisted on taking me to a club for a lively night out.

Before I could decline, he was already on the phone calling people to join.

I couldn’t escape his persistence and reluctantly agreed.

As I headed toward the underground parking lot, Isabella tugged at my arm.

“Claire, you must be exhausted after the competition. Just ride with us. I’ll go get the car, and you can help watch over Ethan. You don’t know how much he drank—his clients wouldn’t let him go, but he still insisted on coming to see your performance.”

Her tone was full of reproach, and her reproachful eyes lingered on Ethan.

Still tipsy, Ethan laughed foolishly and slung an arm around my shoulder.

“Claire’s competition? Even if knives fell from the sky, I’d still come. She’s my only little sister, after all!”

He had always treated me like a sister. Even in my past life when we were married, he cursed me constantly yet still cared for me in that same “sibling” way—never once crossing the line.

If blame must fall, it’s on me—for foolishly falling in love with him.

If I hadn’t, Richard wouldn’t have stormed his engagement party after I was left broken-hearted and paralyzed.

I gently pried Ethan’s arm off and pushed him toward Isabella.

“Let your wife-to-be take care of you, Ethan. I don’t want to deal with his drunken antics.”

I turned, pulling Sophie Green with me toward the elevator.

As the doors began to close, Ethan suddenly pressed a hand against them, stopping them.

“Claire, what did you just call Isabella?”

His eyes were hazy, but his tone was unusually serious.

I gave him a small, steady smile.

“Wife.”

He froze, frowning slightly, as if he wanted to say something. But Isabella tugged on his arm, and the doors closed, shutting them out.

At my side, Sophie whispered, puzzled:

“Claire, didn’t you use to like Mr. Carter? Why the sudden change…?”

“That was the past. People have to move on.”

Inside the private room at the club, Ethan and I were surrounded by mutual friends raising their glasses to congratulate me.

After the commotion, I slipped into a corner, quietly sipping juice.

Ethan was in the center of the crowd, drinking as everyone egged him on. Isabella clung to his side, occasionally stepping in to block drinks for him. Their closeness spurred the crowd to chant for them to kiss.

Ethan didn’t hesitate—he kissed Isabella passionately, a French kiss under the dim lights.

The raw intensity in his eyes was blindingly painful to watch.

I stood and made my way toward the restroom, desperate to leave the suffocating atmosphere.

But someone grabbed my arm.

“Claire, where are you going? Ethan’s in the middle of a hot kiss—you’re not planning to ruin the moment, are you?”

For a second, the lively air in the room froze with awkward tension.

Everyone knew about my past feelings for Ethan—it wasn’t exactly a secret. They thought I was about to throw a jealous tantrum.

I calmly pulled my arm free.

“I’m going to the restroom.”

Sophie, thinking I was holding back my feelings, couldn’t resist speaking up for me.

“If it weren’t for Mr. Carter suddenly getting a girlfriend and announcing an engagement, everyone in Los Angeles thought he’d end up marrying Claire. After all—”

I tugged on her sleeve to silence her.

But Ethan had already pulled away from the kiss, his face dark.

Coldly, he snapped at Sophie:

“You’re just an assistant. What do you know? Stop spouting nonsense!”

It was the first time Ethan Carter had ever snapped at Sophie Green.

Scolding her was no different from striking me—it stung all the same.

He was so harsh, most likely out of guilt, afraid I might reveal something he didn’t want others to know.

Just last year, on my birthday, Ethan and I were still inseparable—two lifelong singles who spent nearly every day together.

He had held my hand and made a wish with me.

“Claire, may we share this moment year after year, forevermore.”

That night, drunk and unguarded, he said if we both reached twenty-five without finding someone, we’d go get our marriage license.

I had agreed, looking forward to my twenty-fifth birthday with anticipation.

But when the day came, instead of a surprise, he brought Isabella Moore to my party.

And I was left the fool, still expecting something from him.

Sophie had witnessed the entirety of my feelings for Ethan, and now stood frozen, stunned by his outburst.

Everyone else looked at me nervously, expecting me to lash out in defense of her.

Instead, I took Sophie’s hand and calmly broke the tension:

“Everyone’s mistaken. Ethan and I are just like brother and sister. Now that he’s found me a sister-in-law, I couldn’t be happier.”

I spoke with sincerity, but no one believed me.

I didn’t care to explain further. I had no desire to stay any longer, and I rose to leave.

But Isabella suddenly blocked my way.

“Claire, the party’s still going—how can you just leave? Don’t forget, you’re the guest of honor tonight!”

“Or is it that what everyone just said is true? You and Ethan…”

Her eyes welled with tears as she glanced at Ethan, painting herself the victim.

The alcohol seemed to vanish from Ethan’s system as he shot Sophie a furious glare, then hurriedly pulled Isabella into his arms to comfort her.

And in front of everyone, he scolded me harshly:

“Claire Adams, I arranged this celebration for you, and this is how you repay me—by letting your assistant spout nonsense and upset Isabella?”

“Whatever your intentions, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to marry Isabella. Perhaps I was too close to you before and made you misunderstand. From now on, I’ll keep my distance, and I hope you’ll do the same.”

The tenderness in his gaze when he looked at Isabella turned to icy disdain the moment it landed on me.

“Fine.”

My response was sharp and decisive.

That only seemed to anger him more. He demanded Sophie and I drink three glasses each to apologize to Isabella.

He knew very well we were both allergic to alcohol, that we couldn’t drink.

Sophie bristled, ready to lash out, but I stopped her.

I picked up the glass myself, lifted it high, and spoke softly:

“It’s my fault Isabella’s unhappy. I’ll take three drinks as punishment—and as my early blessing for you both. May you have a joyful marriage and a lifetime together.”

I downed the three glasses in one go, then took Sophie’s hand and left.

As I passed Ethan, I whispered:

“I’ll grant your wish and step aside. But keep your woman in check—tell her never to do something as low as planting needles in my dance shoes again.”

Ethan froze, bewildered, but Isabella’s face turned ashen.

She understood. That was enough.

On the way home, Sophie bought me medicine for the allergic reaction, struggling to hold back words.

I knew what she wanted to say, so I spared her the effort:

“Sophie, I was obsessed before.”

“From now on, I’ll never love him again.”

Her eyes filled with tears as she hugged me tightly, crying for the secret love I had never spoken aloud.

In that moment, by all rights, I should have been crying my heart out as well.

But there was nothing left in me to cry.

When Sophie saw my dry eyes and steady expression, she finally believed I had truly let go.

Back home, my father, Richard Adams, had just returned from overseas. He pulled me into a warm embrace.

The moment I felt his familiar arms around me, my tears finally broke free, unstoppable.

In this life, I wasn’t crippled in a car crash, and my father, Richard Adams, hadn’t been turned into a vegetable by Ethan Carter.

Everything seemed to be turning out beautifully.

After a few blissful days enjoying simple father–daughter time, I took the initiative to ask Richard about meeting the man he had once arranged as a potential match for me.

“Claire, have you truly let go of that Carter boy?”

“Yes.”

Richard arranged the meeting at the most famous fine-dining restaurant in Los Angeles.

I arrived half an hour early and chose a window seat.

I had just sat down when I heard Isabella Moore’s coquettish laughter from the private room next door.

“Ethan, these shrimp are too hard to peel~”

“Here, let me help you.”

Ethan’s voice was more tender than he had ever used with me.

I pretended not to hear, lowering my head to stir my coffee.

Then a shadow fell across my table.

“Miss Adams, I’m Andrew Collins, Mr. Foster’s assistant. Mr. Foster had an urgent matter come up and couldn’t make it, so he sent me to apologize.”

Andrew handed me an exclusive American Express Centurion Card.

“Mr. Foster said this was his mistake. Please accept this card as a token of apology.”

It was a rare unlimited card. Just as I was about to decline, a cold laugh rang out behind me.

“Claire Adams, you followed me here just to put on this little show?”

Ethan was suddenly at the door of the private room, eyes full of ridicule.

Isabella clung to his arm and raised her brows at me in triumph.

“Claire, last time you falsely accused me of putting needles in your shoes. Now what is this—another ploy to drive a wedge between Ethan and me?”

“I’m here on a date, Mr. Carter. You and your lady are overthinking.”

The moment he realized I wasn’t even calling him “Ethan” anymore, his expression darkened.

“To get my attention, you came here for a date? And with an assistant, no less? Don’t make me laugh.”

Andrew quickly spoke up.

“Sir, Mr. Foster was delayed by urgent business. He didn’t stand her up intentionally.”

At that, Ethan finally looked directly at Andrew and recognized the Centurion Card.

Then he yanked my wrist.

“Grandma Carter’s birthday is today. Come back with me now—don’t keep her waiting.”

From the shadow in his eyes, I could almost read it: he didn’t want me on this date.

I pulled my hand free.

“I don’t have time.”

Turning back, I accepted the card from Andrew.

“Please thank Mr. Foster for me. I’ll take this for now and arrange to meet him another day.”

Andrew, delighted that I accepted, offered to drive me home.

Ethan’s face turned even darker.

“Claire Adams! My grandmother adores you and is looking forward to seeing you on her birthday. You really mean to defy me?”

But I truly didn’t want to go.

In my past life, though I had been paralyzed, I still carefully prepared a gift and arrived early. Grandma Carter had demanded justice for me, insisting Ethan break up with Isabella and marry me instead. But Ethan had declared publicly that he would marry Isabella no matter what.

This time, even though I wasn’t crippled, I knew she would almost certainly try again to push Ethan and me together.

If I didn’t go, none of that trouble would happen.

But Ethan gave me no choice, dragging me toward his car.

Not wanting Andrew to see the family drama, I apologized to him:

“Sorry, Andrew. Don’t laugh at us—it’s just my god-brother. I’ll go back with him to celebrate his grandmother’s birthday.”

And so, in the end, I went to the Carter Family Estate.

After all, Grandma Carter truly loved me.

Once we arrived, Ethan hurried to present Isabella to her. Isabella smiled sweetly and handed over an expensive gift.

But Grandma Carter didn’t take it. Instead, she warmly grasped my hand.

“Claire, you’re here! I’ve missed you so much lately.”

Isabella’s hand froze in midair, her sugary smile stiffening on her face.