“Don’t forget it!” Alaric’s tone brooked no argument. “Tomorrow, we’re going to get the marriage certificate.”

After ending the call, another phone rang—my assistant.

“Your resignation has been expedited,” came the hesitant voice. “Vice President Caldwyn, are you really leaving? Does President Vance know?”

“He will know. After I leave.”

I took out the resignation letter I had prepared and handed it to Dorian to sign.

Outside the master bedroom door, I clearly overheard his conversation with Liora.

“Dorian, there are still wedding photos of you and your sister hanging here. It feels weird living alone.”

“I’ll have someone take those down soon. Then you can live here without worry.”

His tone was casual, but every word was like a knife twisting in my heart.

There are so many rooms in this villa, yet he chose to let Liora live in our bedroom. He didn’t even care if we took down our wedding photos.

Liora protested, “No, my sister will be angry if she finds out. Why don’t you live with me instead?”

Dorian hesitated. “Liora, Serena, and I are getting married soon. We can’t do that anymore...”

“Dorian!” Liora pouted and leaned into him. “We’re not married yet!”

She said with a sly smile, “Besides, isn’t it more exciting to be under your wedding photos?”

“Don’t you want to?”

Dorian’s eyes darkened as he stared at her. Then suddenly, he kissed her.

My fiancé, in our wedding room, was holding and kissing my stepsister.

The unbearable scene nearly broke me. I took a deep breath, wiped tears from my eyes, stepped back quietly, and deliberately made some noise.

Dorian pushed Liora away in panic, guilt flashing in his eyes.

“Serena, why are you still here? Go back to the hospital. Should I take you?”

He reached out to hold my hand, but I dodged him.

Ignoring the lipstick stains on his lips and Liora’s provocative gaze, I said, “There’s a document that needs your signature. I’ll wait in the study.”

Dorian frowned. “Don’t worry about work now. Your health is what matters. Be obedient. I’ll go to the hospital with you, okay?”

I smiled at him. “Then sign this first, and I’ll leave.”

Leave you — forever.

Dorian didn’t catch my meaning; he was just glad I smiled.

“Baby finally smiled! Good, you have to take care of yourself, or I’ll be sad.”

In the study, I handed him the resignation letter along with other documents. Dorian flipped through them casually.

“Which project is this?”

I pointed to one at random.

Suddenly, Liora’s voice came from downstairs, “Dorian, I want ice cream!”

“No! Your period’s coming. Do you want to suffer pain rolling around again?”

Their casual, loving banter felt like a knife twisting.

Dorian used to look at me that way.

My cramps were severe; he tracked my cycle every month, managing me carefully.

Now, he tracked Liora’s period with the same care.

He took her to checkups, got her medicine, recorded her condition and dietary restrictions meticulously. He strictly monitored her diet and forbade stocking cold drinks at home.

At first, I was jealous and bought a lot of ice cream, stuffing it into the fridge to spite him.

Dorian never noticed.

Or maybe he did, but he simply didn’t care anymore.

“Serena,” Dorian’s voice pulled me back from my thoughts. I blinked, hiding my tears.

“Didn’t I already sign this?”

Panic flickered in me. This was the project I managed before the accident. I’d been in a coma for days; I had no clue about its progress.

As I scrambled for an excuse, Liora’s voice interrupted again.

“I found it! My favorite vanilla ice cream! I want it!”

“No!” Dorian jumped up, rushing out. “Liora, be obedient!”

I grabbed his arm. “Sign the document first!”

“You…”

“I opened the lid! It smells so good!”

Dorian’s face tightened with anxiety. He cared so much about her.

I shoved the document forward. He sighed impatiently and signed without even reading.

Then he hurried downstairs to Liora.

“Dorian,” I whispered after him, “We will never see each other again after a week.”

I took the signed resignation letter and walked into the storage room.

There was a large box tucked into the corner — something Dorian had never noticed before.

It was filled with things he had given me over the years: expensive jewelry, designer bags, plush dolls, gloves, and other little trinkets. But the item I treasured the most was the stack of letters he wrote me.

During my senior year, I participated in a confidential research project with my mother’s team. During that time, I was completely cut off from the outside world and could only receive one letter per month.

For two whole years, Dorian wrote me twenty-four heartfelt letters without missing a single month.

In each letter, I could feel how deeply he missed me.

When he graduated from college, he wrote:

“Serena, I wish I could take a graduation photo with you in our bachelor’s gowns and frame it for our wedding day. I want us to walk from the university steps straight into the wedding hall.”

When he started his company, he wrote:

“Serena, the project you helped initiate is progressing smoothly. Everything’s going well on paper… but I feel so tired. I miss you so much. I just want to hold you.”

At a classmate’s wedding, he wrote:

“Serena, once you return, we’ll register our marriage immediately! Our wedding has to be even more beautiful than theirs.”

But in the final letters, I could sense something shifting—his pain growing heavier.

“Serena, without you, even the air tastes bitter. I can’t take it anymore…”

Those words made my heart ache. I decided to leave the project team early. I wanted to return to him.

I thought I was doing something romantic — preparing a surprise.

For an entire month, I worked overtime and pulled all-nighters to hand over my responsibilities quickly. Once I was cleared to leave the research base, I didn’t even call him. I rushed straight to see him.

That was the surprise I had planned — but instead of joy, I was greeted with heartbreak.

I saw him with Liora, holding her closely, smiling as though the world belonged to just the two of them.

Someone nearby joked, “Brother Dorian and sister-in-law are so sweet! Hasn’t it been two years? You two are still so in love, always glued to each other!”

Dorian’s expression darkened. “Don’t talk nonsense. Liora isn’t your sister-in-law.”

The atmosphere turned awkward. Liora looked embarrassed, but Dorian didn’t seem to care at all.

A friend who knew the truth tried to smooth things over: “Isn’t your fiancée coming back next year? What will happen with you and Liora then?”

Dorian casually twirled a strand of Liora’s hair. “Of course it’ll end. We agreed from the start — Liora is just a stand-in for Serena. Serena will never find out. Once she’s back, things will go back to normal.”

But reality didn’t follow his script. I did find out. And nothing went back to normal.

Over the past three years, every time he left me for Liora, I placed one of his gifts in the box.

Before I knew it, the box was nearly full.

The engagement ring on my finger is the last item.

No more, no less — exactly the 99th.

Dorian has left me for Liora ninety-nine times.

I looked at the ring, feeling a quiet sense of closure. “I’ve returned everything you gave me. Let me give you one last gift.”

I placed the signed resignation letter inside the box and gently closed the lid.

That made a hundred gifts.

A fitting number to wish him and Liora a lifetime of happiness.

In one week, I will be gone.

I — my news, my presence, every trace of me — would vanish from Dorian’s world.

And I would return every memory to him, one by one.

Suddenly, my phone vibrated nonstop. I glanced at the screen.

All the messages were from Liora.

[Sister, do you like any of these wedding dresses?]

She had sent me photos of her trying on gowns — every style is different, but every photo features the same people: her and Dorian.

The images are stung. My vision blurred. I randomly chose one.

The chat box quickly updated: “The other party is typing...” Liora had been waiting for my reply and soon sent another barrage of texts.

[Oh no! I didn’t pick that one!]

[Dorian told me to decide. He said I look like you, so whatever I choose would suit you best.]

[I picked the second dress. Do you think I look better at it?]

[It’s already finalized based on my choice... what should I do now?]

I thought I had grown numb. But pain still surged from deep inside me, flooding every nerve in my body.

Because she looked like me, Dorian used her as my substitute during the two years I was away.

And when I finally came back, I found my place had already been taken by the substitute.

What a cruel, ironic joke.

Even now, I can’t understand — how could Dorian say he loved only me while smiling and kissing Liora?

Just then, a new message from Dorian arrived:

[Baby, don’t rush back to the hospital. I’ll head to the south side of the city to buy your favorite cake and bring it to you later.]

[Don’t worry about gaining weight. Something sweet will make you feel better!]

That was the final blow.

I collapsed, unable to hold back the heartache anymore.

He had completely forgotten.

I love cakes from the north side of the city. The ones from the south are Liora’s favorite.

Those cakes contain almond powder.

But I’m allergic to almonds.

He used to remember everything about me — every detail, every preference, every allergy.

So is he simply forgetting now, or does he just not care anymore?

I turned off my phone, shut my eyes, and let the tears fall silently, tracing a warm path down my cheeks.

That night, I returned to the hospital alone.

Dorian called repeatedly and flooded my inbox with messages after he got home, but I didn’t respond to any of them.

The following morning, I was discharged.

Today was the day Alaric and I would register our marriage.

The Office of Civil Administration hadn’t opened yet, but Alaric was already waiting outside.

When I saw him, I paused.

After several years apart, he hadn’t changed much from how I remembered him. His face — the one that captivated so many — was still striking, but now, he carried a calmer, steadier aura. Perhaps years immersed in research had shaped that quiet, rational demeanor.

As he approached me, I noticed his brows gradually knitting tighter.

“You don’t look well,” he said bluntly.

I blinked, momentarily stunned. No one — aside from the doctors and nurses — had shown any real concern for my condition since I woke from the accident.

I forced a smile. “Just a minor car accident. Nothing serious.”

But his expression turned grave. “A car accident? Where were you hurt? Does it still hurt?”

His voice, so unexpectedly gentle, made my chest tighten. I quickly looked down, trying to hide the sudden wetness in my eyes. But the ache in my voice betrayed me. “I broke a few ribs.”

Alaric reached out instinctively, but stopped just short of touching my shoulder. Instead, he gently grasped my wrist.

“Come on, I’m taking you back to the hospital.”

I held his arm and stopped him. “No, I already left the hospital. Let’s just get the marriage certificate first.”

“What marriage certificate?” he said, frowning. “It’s just a piece of paper. How can that matter more than your health?”

His words brushed softly over the raw wound in my heart.

I smiled, this time with a hint of certainty. “Alaric, I want to marry you. I want to be your lawful wife.”

His entire body tensed, and the stern expression on his face faltered. I caught a faint flush creeping up to his ears.

He turned away awkwardly but reached out to support me carefully. “Alright. Let’s get married.”

The registration process was surprisingly quick. I stared at the little red book in my hands, still not quite believing it was real.

“Now, can I take you back to the hospital?” Alaric asked.

I nodded, but added, “There’s something I need to tell you first.”

“What is it?”

“I accepted the institute’s offer. In six days, we’ll officially be colleagues.” I extended my hand to him with a smile. “Looking forward to working with you, partner.”

His eyes widened slightly. “You’re going back to the institute?”

“I am.”

He hesitated. “Have you really thought this through? Once you're in, there’ll be no contact with the outside world. What about... your boyfriend?”

I interrupted without hesitation. “What boyfriend? I only have a husband now — you.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve made up my mind.” I gave his hand a light shake, sealing the handshake.

“There’s one more thing,” I added. “There’s a wedding in six days. Would you be willing to be my groom?”

Surprise flashed in his eyes once more, and his ears turned a brighter shade of red.

“I do,” he said quietly.