Until New Year’s Eve, Sebastian still didn’t return. As the hours ticked by, the emptiness in the house grew unbearable, and Abigail made another call.

This time, when she was about to give up, he answered.

“Hello, what’s the matter?” His voice was cold, impatient, as if her call was an inconvenience.

Abigail’s heart clenched, but she forced herself to speak softly. “Sebastian, can we celebrate the New Year together today?”

A beat of silence followed, then his tone turned sharper. “Did I tell you not to call me that again? I find it disgusting. And New Year’s Eve? It’s just part of an agreement. Don’t take it seriously.”

The dull ache in her chest sharpened, piercing her like a knife. She swallowed hard, trying to push back the tears threatening to spill.

“Sebastian, I—”

Before she could say more, a cheerful voice interrupted. Gabriella’s voice, bright and carefree, was unmistakable.

“Sebastian, the fireworks are starting! Come quickly!”

“Okay,” he responded, his tone so gentle it was unrecognizable from the one he’d just used with her.

And then, without another word, the call ended.

Abigail sat frozen, the phone still in her hand. Outside, the sound of fireworks erupted, echoing through the quiet of the house. She walked to the balcony, her gaze blank as she looked up at the sky.

The fireworks were just as dazzling as ever, their vibrant colors painting the night. But to her, they felt gray and lifeless, drained of all their beauty.

The thought of Sebastian being with someone else, cherishing someone else, tore at her heart. It was as if every breath came with a fresh wound, stabbing deeper and deeper until the pain became unbearable.

After midnight, her phone buzzed unexpectedly. It was an email notification. She glanced at the sender and froze.

It was from Sebastian.

Her fingers trembled as she opened the email. Inside was a video.

When she clicked play, his face appeared on the screen.

“Abigail, Abby, baby, my wife,” he began, his voice tender and affectionate. “This is the third year we’ve been together. While recording this, I realized just how much more I’ve grown to love you—and I know I’ll keep loving you even more in the future.”

He chuckled softly, his dark eyes sparkling with emotion. “I’ve been thinking about what you said about wanting to travel and get married. Because of my family, I haven’t been able to give you a proper wedding yet. But next year, on our anniversary, let’s make it happen, okay? I’ve already started planning it.”

His smile deepened, pure happiness lighting up his face. It was a version of him she hadn’t seen in so long—a version she thought she’d lost forever.

The video ended, but Abigail sat motionless, unable to process what she’d just seen. She replayed it, again and again, clinging to his words and the warmth in his gaze.

But before she could fully absorb the bittersweet emotions welling inside her, her phone buzzed again.

It was another video.

This time, as she opened it, her world shattered anew.

The screen showed Sebastian and Gabriella. He was wrapping a scarf around her neck with the utmost care, his eyes filled with unmistakable tenderness—as if she were the only person who mattered in the world.

Gabriella reached up, gently stopping him. “Sebastian, isn’t this the scarf Abigail knitted for you? I shouldn’t wear it—it wouldn’t be right.”

Abigail’s eyes darted to the scarf, and her breath caught in her throat. It was the one she had painstakingly knitted for Sebastian on their second anniversary.

Abigail’s mind spiraled as she stared at the paused video. Her fingers hovered over her phone screen, trembling.

She pressed play again.

The memory of Sebastian’s reaction when she gave him the scarf resurfaced vividly. His smile had been radiant, his joy uncontainable.

“Abby, I like it very much,” he had said, immediately wrapping it around his neck. “I’ll definitely cherish it.”

That moment had felt like a promise, one of countless assurances of their love.

But now, in the video, his words cut through her like shards of glass.

“Don’t be in a bad mood,” Sebastian said softly to Gabriella. “Wear it obediently. You’ll be cold later.”

He adjusted the scarf around her neck with a tenderness that was once hers. “If Gabriella doesn’t like it, you can do whatever you want with this scarf. But for now, you must wear it.”

Abigail’s heart clenched as she watched him hand over the scarf she had painstakingly knitted—a symbol of her love—and tell Gabriella she could treat it however she wished.

The video ended abruptly, leaving her staring at the empty screen, her chest tightening with unbearable pain.

Before she could process the hurt, another notification lit up her phone. It was a text message from an unknown number.

With trembling hands, she opened it.

The words hit her like a thunderclap:

"Sebastian only likes me now. He hates you so much. If you ask me, you should give up your position as soon as possible."

Abigail's hand clenched around the phone so tightly that she didn’t notice the pain until it became unbearable. Slowly, she loosened her grip and placed the phone down, her fingers trembling.

She raised her eyes to the dark night sky outside, her gaze hollow and unfocused. A single question echoed in her mind: Is Sebastian still the man I knew?

How could someone change so much in just a single week?

Her thoughts spiraled back to the video, replaying it in her mind over and over again, as though dissecting it might somehow restore the man she loved. She clung to memories of the past, the weight of nostalgia, the only thing anchoring her as she stumbled through this thorny path.

As she had come to expect, Sebastian didn’t return that night. The once warm and lively bed felt unbearably cold, and she fell asleep with tears staining her pillow.

The next morning, Abigail sat at the dining table, eating breakfast in the silence that had become her new normal. The sound of the villa door opening startled her, and she looked up to see Sebastian entering.

Her heart stirred involuntarily, and she rose to greet him, the name slipping from her lips out of habit. “Sebastian...”

He didn’t even glance her way. His voice was ice when he said, “I told you not to call me that.”

Without waiting for a response, he strode upstairs, his back turned to her.

Abigail stood frozen in place, staring blankly at him as he disappeared. Habits weren’t so easy to change. For almost four years, she had called him that, and he had always corrected her whenever she used his full name, insisting it made them sound too distant.

But now...

A few minutes later, he came back down, dressed in fresh clothes.

“Sebastian, where are you going?” she asked, this time remembering his demand.

Her attempt to comply didn’t placate him. His dissatisfaction lingered, though even he couldn’t quite explain it. Irritation flashed in his eyes as he snapped, “Do I need to report to you where I’m going?”

She bit back a response, letting the question hang in the air as he walked out the door.

At six in the evening, her phone buzzed, breaking the uneasy quiet of the day. She picked it up and saw his name on the screen.

His voice on the other end was curt, almost mechanical. “Take the ‘Ivory Dream’ and come to the Golden Sands Banquet Hall.”

Before she could respond, the line went dead.

Abigail stared at the phone, her mind struggling to process his words. Ivory Dream. Her fingers instinctively reached for the necklace—a delicate crescent moon pendant he had given her on their first anniversary. Back then, his words had been tender: “You’re my Abby, my dream. This is for you, my light.”

But now, his cold tone made the memory feel like a cruel mockery.

Her chest tightened as she glanced at the clock. Why would he call her to a banquet on New Year’s Day? And why specifically ask her to wear this necklace?

Ivory Dream was the wedding gift Sebastian had given her on their wedding day. It was no ordinary necklace, but a set of crown-shaped necklaces, each meticulously crafted with exquisite detail. The set was incredibly expensive, and there was only one in existence—created solely for her.

Abigail had never worn it casually, always too afraid of damaging it. She reserved it for only the most important occasions.

Tonight, as she prepared to leave, she climbed upstairs to change into a chest-wrapped dress that would complement the necklace’s brilliance. The pendant settled on her skin, its delicate silver gleaming against her fair complexion, making her look even more striking than usual.

She hailed a taxi and made her way to the Golden Sands Banquet Hall. When she arrived, she stepped out of the car, her heart fluttering with anticipation. Her eyes immediately found Sebastian standing at the entrance. She assumed he was waiting for her, so she hurried toward him.

But as she drew closer, her heart sank. There, standing beside him, was Gabriella. Her presence, so familiar and yet so foreign, crushed Abigail’s spirits in an instant.

Sebastian’s gaze flickered over to her, but instead of the warmth she had once known, his expression darkened.

"Why are you dressed like this?" he asked, his voice colder than she remembered.

Abigail froze. Her mind raced as she realized her mistake—he hadn’t asked her to attend the banquet at all. She had misunderstood everything.

Embarrassment flooded through her, and she nervously pinched her fingers together, unsure of how to explain herself.

Sebastian, however, didn’t seem to care about the miscommunication. His focus was elsewhere.

"Where is the necklace?" he asked bluntly.

Abigail instinctively touched the necklace around her neck, her brow furrowing in confusion. Was he planning to sell it?

But her assumptions were wrong. The reality was far more cruel than she had imagined.

Sebastian’s voice was sharp and emotionless. “Take it off.”

She stood frozen, her breath catching in her throat.

Sebastian’s patience seemed to snap. Without another word, he grabbed her by the arm, roughly turning her away from him. As her neck was exposed, he swiftly removed the necklace, his fingers cold against her skin.

Abigail’s heart pounded in her chest as she slowly turned to face him.

What she saw made her world come crashing down.

Sebastian, holding the necklace in his hand, walked past her and toward Gabriella. With an almost tender gesture, he lifted Gabriella’s long hair and placed the precious wedding gift—Ivory Dream—around her neck.

After Sebastian placed the necklace around Gabriella’s neck, he stepped back to admire her, his gaze lingering with a hint of satisfaction. He spoke with a careful precision, "Gabriella is more suited to it. It truly accentuates her nobility."

The implication was clear—Abigail wasn’t worthy of the necklace.

A sharp pain pierced Abigail’s chest, a needle-like sting that left her unable to move. Her hands trembled, and for a moment, she felt as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders.

Just then, a man approached Sebastian, his gaze briefly flicking to Abigail before he asked with a hint of curiosity, “I know this is the future Mrs. Montgomery—who is she?”

The man was referring to Gabriella as the future Mrs. Montgomery, of course. But it was the second part of his question that struck Abigail like a blow.

Sebastian, without hesitation, glanced at Abigail and replied coldly, “The nanny at home.”

The man’s face froze in confusion. “The nanny is dressed like this?”

Without missing a beat, Sebastian’s voice took on an icy edge. “Don’t recognize your identity?”

His words landed like a slap. The cruel irony in his tone made her feel as though she were being stripped bare, her dignity torn to pieces before a crowd. The beautiful dress that had once made her feel elegant now only seemed to amplify her humiliation.

The man looked at her with a mixture of confusion and judgment, his eyes carrying an unspoken accusation. Abigail felt exposed, as though she were naked in front of the world, vulnerable to their cruel stares.

The banquet began, and the crowd poured into the hall. Sebastian cast one last glance at Abigail, her head bowed in silence. A strange discomfort twisted in his gut, and his heart tightened. It was fleeting, but it was enough to make him frown. Finally, he broke the silence, his voice stiff, “You follow.”

He then offered his arm to Gabriella, leading her into the venue with an easy, practiced grace. Abigail trailed behind them like a shadow, her steps heavy with the weight of her own self-loathing. She fought to keep her composure, her smile a brittle mask of self-deprecation.

As the evening wore on, Abigail watched in silence as Sebastian doted on Gabriella. He stopped her from drinking too much, gently wiping the corners of her mouth with a napkin, and even adjusting the lipstick on her lips with a careful hand.

Abigail’s chest tightened with each movement. It was all too familiar. She had once been the recipient of his tender care, his lips brushing against hers as he wiped away lipstick, his hands the ones to fix her makeup. But now, she was nothing more than an observer.

Watching him attend to Gabriella in the same way, Abigail’s heart shattered. The pain was unbearable, and she couldn’t stand to watch anymore. She turned away, retreating to the side of the room.

Meanwhile, Sebastian, still absorbed in helping Gabriella with her lipstick, felt a strange sense of déjà vu. He didn’t know why he was so skilled at this—why it felt so natural. What he didn’t realize was that he had learned it all from another girl, a girl who was now a distant memory.

Abigail stood off to the side, the wine glass in her hand trembling slightly as she gazed distantly at the scene unfolding before her. Just as she was about to turn and leave, Gabriella approached her with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

"Abigail," she began, her voice smooth yet laced with a cutting edge, "you saw it today, didn’t you? Sebastian loves me so much. Don’t you feel heartbroken?"

Abigail’s expression didn’t waver. She didn’t flinch, nor did she respond. Gabriella, undeterred, continued with a mocking sweetness, "Leave early, and maybe your heart won’t hurt so much. I’m being sincere when I say, you should leave as soon as you can."

The words pierced her heart, but she maintained her composure, her face a mask of indifference. She didn’t give Gabriella the satisfaction of a reaction.

Gabriella, however, was unfazed. She cast a glance over her shoulder and saw Sebastian making his way toward them. With a swift, subtle motion, she tugged at the tablecloth.

A champagne tower teetered dangerously on the edge of the table, and with the slightest pull, it collapsed, sending cascading glasses hurtling toward Abigail.

Before she could react, the cold liquid splashed over her, and the glasses shattered upon impact, their sharp edges cutting into her exposed skin. The pain was immediate and intense, the shards of glass embedding themselves in her flesh. She cried out, but the sound was muffled by the sharp sting of pain that overwhelmed her. In her high heels, her balance faltered, and she crashed to the ground, the sharp glass fragments piercing her skin further.

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she lay amidst the broken glass. The pain was excruciating, but her heart hurt even more—aching for the love she had once known.

Through her tears, she looked up. The sight before her was like a cruel irony: Sebastian, who should have been the one to help her, was instead rushing to Gabriella’s side. He held her tightly, his face filled with concern as he checked her for injuries.

Gabriella had only suffered a minor scratch on her finger, yet Sebastian was beside himself with worry. His focus was entirely on her, his face etched with anxiety and urgency.

In that moment, Sebastian caught sight of Abigail, lying on the ground, her body bruised and bleeding from the glass shards. A sharp stab of pain shot through his chest, his heart suddenly aching in a way he couldn’t comprehend. His eyes met hers, and for just a moment, there was a flicker of something—something deep and unspoken.

But it was gone in an instant, buried beneath the surface of his cold, controlled exterior. He quickly turned his attention back to Gabriella, his face a mask of concern, though his eyes still betrayed a flicker of something else. Something he couldn’t recognize, or perhaps didn’t want to.

Abigail lay there, the tears staining her cheeks, her heart feeling more shattered than the glass around her.