Sebastian was seated near the window, Bianca across from him. He bent toward her, gently dabbing the corner of her lips with a napkin, his expression tender — the same softness he once reserved only for me back when we were crammed into that run-down apartment with cracked walls and leaking pipes.

My chest constricted. I turned on my heel, wanting to escape before they noticed me, but I rushed straight into someone’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” I blurted automatically.

The man lifted his head.

The warmth in his eyes vanished in an instant.

He rose from his chair and walked toward me with long, angry strides.

“So now you’re stalking me too?” he snapped.

I hadn’t even drawn a proper breath when he continued, his voice colder.

“I’ve already explained everything about Bianca and me. It was strictly business. How long are you planning to humiliate yourself like this?”

I tried to speak, but Mrs. Sterling’s words from the night before echoed cruelly in my head:

Their marriage has been planned for years. He has feelings for her as well.

Planned. Marriage. Arranged.

The truth I had been too blind — and too in love — to see.

“Sebastian, there’s no need to sound so harsh,” Bianca said gently as she stood and slipped to his side. “It’s just a coincidence that we ran into each other. Why don’t we all have lunch together?”

Before I could object, she looped her arm through his and ushered me toward their table like I had no right to refuse. I ended up sitting opposite him, trapped under the weight of his frigid stare.

“What would you like to order, Miss Monroe?” Bianca passed me the menu, smiling politely. “The Spanish dishes here are quite famous.”

The menu might as well have been written in code. “I’m not hungry.”

“At least have some soup,” she urged, already waving the waiter over. A bowl of steaming seafood broth was set down in front of me. “It’s very fresh.”

The scent hit my nose and my stomach twisted violently. I was allergic. One sip would land me in the ER.

Before I could protest, Sebastian’s phone rang. He stepped aside to answer.

Bianca leaned in, her lips barely moving.

“Go on, taste it. A dish like that probably costs more than what you earned in a whole month when you were living in that rat hole you called home.”

My fingers clenched around the napkin.

She took a slow sip of wine, eyes gleaming. “You don’t seriously think you belong in places like this, do you? Women like you don’t marry into families like his. If Sebastian hadn’t lost his memory, you wouldn’t even qualify to polish his shoes.”

Heat rushed to my face, but I forced my chin up. “You can keep your—”

“Oh!”

She suddenly gasped and “accidentally” tipped the entire bowl, scalding soup splashing over both our hands.

Agony tore through my skin. I recoiled sharply, biting down on a scream. Even though I had been reborn, the humiliation followed me in different forms, as if fate refused to let me escape public cruelty.

Sebastian rushed back at once, grabbing Bianca’s wrist. “What happened?”

She trembled slightly, perfectly pitiful. “It’s nothing… I was just startled. I suppose Aurelia doesn’t like seeing us together. It’s understandable…”

His gaze sliced toward me. “How many times do I have to explain things to you? What’s wrong with you?”

My hand burned, angry red blisters already rising. “She did it on purpose—”

“Enough!” he barked. “I saw it all. When did you become this pathetic?”

Then he pulled Bianca into his arms and turned away from me.

She nestled against his chest, but not before flashing me a smug smile over his shoulder.

I stared at my injured hand, shaking with pain. Three years ago, when I burned myself in our kitchen, he’d raced out at midnight just to buy ointment. Now he didn’t spare me a glance.

I left alone, smiling bitterly.

The villa greeted me with darkness and silence, just like always when Sebastian wasn’t home. I dug out the first-aid kit and treated the burn myself. The disinfectant stung, the ointment barely soothed it, and the bandage throbbed like ants crawling beneath my skin.

When I straightened, my eyes drifted to the grand piano in the corner — the Cielo he’d bought after regaining his memory, promising to teach me how to play.

It was coated in dust.

He’d never played a single note. Never taught me anything. Just like our marriage — once sworn, now abandoned.

I turned away quickly and went upstairs. In the bedroom, I pulled out a suitcase and started packing. Clothes. IDs. Bank cards. One item at a time, I folded my past into that case.

Halfway through, the door creaked open.

Sebastian stood there, jacket over his arm, tie loosened, the powerful aura of the Sterling heir radiating off him once more.

His eyes locked onto the suitcase.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m getting ready to leave,” I replied in a low voice.

He closed the distance between us, and his cologne washed over me. My stomach clenched — it was the exact same scent that had clung to Bianca earlier that day.

Suddenly his fingers wrapped around my wrist.

“So this is what this is about?” he snapped. “You’re running away just because I had lunch with Bianca? You were the one who hurt her, and she didn’t even complain. Yet here you are, throwing a tantrum?”

I met his gaze. His eyes weren’t icy or gentle — they were full of impatience, as if I were nothing more than an inconvenience.

“Our families have been close for generations,” he continued. “Her parents asked me to look after her now that she’s back in the country. Can you not try, just once, to be a little more reasonable?”

Reasonable.

The word stabbed straight through me. As if I hadn’t already sacrificed everything for him. As if I hadn’t already given my life once because of him.

How much more did he think I owed him?

“Answer me!” he demanded.

I said nothing. Silence was the only armor I still had.

His grip tightened for a moment before he let go, fury darkening his features.

“Fine. Be stubborn. Let’s see how long you last. You have nowhere to go. I practically own half of New York.”

The door slammed so violently the walls shook.

I stared at the half-packed suitcase. In my past life, I would have collapsed in tears, chased after him, begged him to choose me. But this time, I pressed my lips together and kept folding my clothes.

---

The following morning, I stepped into the living room — and froze.

Bianca was lounging on the sofa, chatting sweetly with Mrs. Edith Sterling like she had always belonged there. She was dressed in white, glowing, every inch the future lady of this house.

When she noticed me, her smile widened.

“Good morning, Miss Monroe. My parents insisted Sebastian take me to today’s auction. Please don’t misunderstand.”

I glanced toward Sebastian. He was adjusting his cufflinks, his face unreadable. He never even spared me a look.

“There’s nothing to misunderstand,” I replied calmly. “What you choose to do has nothing to do with me.”

For the briefest moment, his fingers paused, but he said nothing.

Bianca let out a light laugh. “Why don’t you come too? You don’t seem busy.”

Before I could decline, she slipped her arm through mine and tugged me forward, her nails pressing faintly into my skin — a quiet reminder of where I stood.

---

The auction hall sparkled like royalty’s playground. Everywhere I looked were expensive suits, glittering jewels, people who lived in Sebastian’s world.

He sat in the front row, bidding without hesitation. Every item he won was passed directly into Bianca’s hands, and each time she leaned in close to whisper something into his ear, smiling like a bride.

They looked inseparable.

I sat off to the side, unseen, like I didn’t belong.

At one point, Bianca spoke sweetly, loud enough for me to hear.

“Sebastian, why don’t you get something for Miss Monroe too?”

He didn’t even turn his head.

“She wouldn’t know what to do with any of it.”

The words landed like a slap.

Bianca glanced at me with thinly veiled triumph, as though she had just won without lifting a finger.

My hand rested on the glossy auction catalogue. He was wrong — it wasn’t that I didn’t understand these things. It was that in his eyes, I wasn’t worthy of them.

To him, I would always be the girl from nowhere. Someone easily erased.

Then the final item was unveiled.

An ivory comb, delicately carved, gemstones gleaming along its spine.

My breath caught, my grip tightening on the bidding paddle.

It was my grandmother’s.

Three years ago, Sebastian had been working himself to the bone to save for my birthday when he was hit by a car. The hospital bills were crushing. I sold that comb — the last keepsake from my grandmother — to save his life. I swore I would buy it back one day.

But it vanished.

I searched antique shops, begged collectors, chased rumors for years — nothing.

Until now.

Without thinking, I raised my paddle.

“One million.”

The room stirred. Bianca turned, surprise flashing briefly across her face before she lifted her own paddle.

“Three million.”

“Four million.”

“Ten million,” she replied easily, her voice almost playful.

The numbers climbed like blades. I didn’t care how deep I cut myself — I would not lose it again.

Sebastian finally raised his paddle.

The hammer fell.

“Sold, to Mr. Sterling!”

Applause echoed hollowly.

Then he turned — not to me, but to her.

“Do you like it? It’s yours.”

The paddle slipped from my numb fingers and clattered to the floor.

I watched as the comb — my grandmother’s last gift — was placed into Bianca’s hands. She cradled it, then suddenly gasped.

“Oh no!”

It fell.

I rushed forward, but the sound came first — a clean, cruel snap as it shattered in two, gems scattering across the marble like fallen stars.

My body moved before my mind could. I shoved her aside and dropped to the floor, gathering the broken pieces with shaking hands.

“Aurelia!”

Sebastian’s shout sliced through the air, sharp and furious. He lunged toward Bianca at once, pulling her behind him like she was made of glass.

“What are you thinking? Have you lost your mind?!”

Tears blurred my vision as I stared at him.

“Lost my mind? That comb belonged to my grandmother! You swore to me—swore—that if you ever saw it again, you’d buy it back. You don’t even remember, do you?”

For a brief second, something stirred in his eyes. Guilt. A flash of memory.

Then it vanished, sealed behind a wall of frost.

“That was ages ago,” he said coolly. “You can’t seriously expect me to recall something so trivial. And Bianca didn’t mean to drop it. How could you push her like that?”

Bianca gripped his sleeve, her lashes wet, her sobs perfectly fragile.

“It’s really my fault… I wasn’t paying attention.”

He softened immediately. “Don’t blame yourself.” His fingers lifted, wiping her tears with a tenderness that once belonged only to me.

Then he turned back to me, his expression stripped of mercy.

“I’ll send it out for repair. Stop making a scene.”

With that, he took her hand and walked away, the broken comb still in his grasp. He never once looked back at me.

---

Rain started falling outside, the sound of it seeping through the walls like a slow, relentless drumbeat.

In my previous life, this moment had crushed me beyond repair.

Now, I felt nothing at all.

I stood at the entrance, watching Sebastian’s black Maybach glide away, Bianca sitting proudly beside him.

The auction hall was far from the city. There were no taxis. After waiting endlessly, I finally started walking under the rain.

By the time I reached home, every step felt like knives. When I took off my heels, my skin tore free with them — blisters ripped open, sticking to the stockings. I gasped at the pain and collapsed onto the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling.

And then the memory came.

That winter years ago, when he carried me three kilometers through pouring rain to get me to the hospital. We had no money for a cab, but he refused to let me walk even one step.

“Hang in there, Aurelia,” he’d whispered, breathless. “We’re almost there.”

His back had been so warm that night, the rain almost comforting.

Now he owned cars worth more than I could imagine — and still couldn’t spare five minutes for me.

After cleaning my wounds, I crawled into bed. Sleep was the only place where grief couldn’t reach me.

I had never wanted the Sterling inheritance. I only wanted the man who once held me in a tiny apartment, whispering my name like it was his entire world.

But that man vanished the day his memories returned.

Tears slid silently down my temples.

---

The next morning, the bedroom door creaked open, pulling me from sleep.

Sebastian stood there in a crisp suit, flawless as ever.

“There’s a family dinner tonight. You’re coming.”

I hesitated, afraid he’d notice I was preparing to leave. After a moment, I nodded.

My ankle screamed with every step as I dressed.

Half an hour later, we arrived at the Sterling estate, glowing warmly against the night.

The moment we walked in, I spotted Bianca already seated on the sofa, wrapped in Chanel, chatting happily with Mrs. Sterling. Mr. Sterling sat nearby, his expression filled with pride — like he was finally looking at the daughter-in-law he had always wanted.

“Sebastian!” Mrs. Sterling hurried over, clutching his arm without even glancing at me. “Bianca has been waiting for you.”

His eyes flicked toward me, as though expecting to see pain or jealousy. I gave him nothing.

Bianca turned with feigned surprise. “Oh, Miss Monroe is here too? Please, have a seat.”

Only then did Mrs. Sterling look at me.

“Since you’re here, mind your behavior. Don’t disgrace this family.”

I stayed silent.

Throughout dinner, Bianca and Mrs. Sterling laughed together, discussing elite gatherings. Sebastian and his father talked business. Not a word was meant for me.

I ate quietly, listening to the insults drift across the table.

“Background is everything.”

“Some girls don’t understand their limits.”

“Sebastian and Bianca have known each other since childhood. They’re a perfect match.”

Once, Sebastian would have snapped back. Later, he’d only muttered, “That’s enough, Grandma.”

Now, he said nothing at all.

Afterward, Sebastian drove us home. Bianca naturally took the front seat, leaving me in the back like excess luggage.

The song playing was her favorite. They laughed together, their voices blending into the music.

I rested my head against the window, watching the city lights blur. Another winter surfaced in my memory — Sebastian pedaling a battered bike through the freezing night, my arms around his waist, my frozen hands tucked inside his coat.

“Someday I’ll buy you a good car,” he’d promised. “You’ll never be cold again.”

Now he had the money. But the front seat wasn’t mine.

A horn blared suddenly. Headlights flared.

A truck veered straight at us.

The impact was instant.

In that split second, I saw Sebastian move — not toward me, but toward Bianca, throwing his body over hers.

I was hurled forward, my forehead smashing into the glass. Warm blood slid down into my eyes.

In my past life, I survived this crash.

But survival was its own cruelty, because even at the edge of death, Sebastian’s choice was unmistakable.

He never chose me.

And in that moment, I heard my heart shatter — for the very last time.