I pushed open the restaurant door.

My gaze swept across each table until it landed on a woman seated by the window.

She wore an elegant dress and flawless makeup, her every movement exuding the effortless grace of someone born into wealth.

I walked over, pulled out a chair, and sat down without a trace of emotion on my face.

She glanced at me.

“I booked a private room. Let’s talk there.”

Without waiting for a reply, she stood and walked ahead.

I had no choice but to follow.

Inside the private room, she began pouring a glass of water with deliberate, unhurried gestures.

I didn’t rush her. I simply sat in silence and watched.

“I’m Amelie Poldark,” she announced abruptly. “Emmett’s fiancée.”

She spoke plainly, her tone laced with a hint of provocation.

I said nothing, but calmly met her gaze.

Amelie clearly hadn’t expected my composure.

She pursed her lips.

“Aren’t you supposed to be his girlfriend? Don’t you have anything to say about me suddenly showing up as his fiancée?”

I shook my head, my eyes hollow and distant.

What thoughts could I possibly have?

The moment I overheard that conversation in the hallway, I had given up on Emmett for good.

She bit her lip and let out a low chuckle.

“The Meyers and Poldarks are about to enter a major partnership. Both sides have already agreed to a marriage alliance. Emmett has given his consent.

“No matter what promises he made to you, in the end, he’ll marry me. So I suggest you walk away while you still can.

“I can even offer you some compensation—save you from ending up with nothing.”

I took a deep breath and kept a steady gaze on her.

“When does this project between your families launch? When do you plan to announce the engagement?”

Amelie looked a little caught off guard, but a triumphant smile soon crept across her lips.

“By the end of this month. The exact date isn’t set, but it’ll be around then.”

The end of the month, right when I was supposed to graduate.

So Emmett had planned it all out.

Expose the scandalous photos at my graduation, then ride the wave straight into a public alliance with the Poldarks.

A perfect strategy, one even Uncle Franklin wouldn’t be able to counter.

But still…Emmett, oh Emmett.

You were colder than I ever imagined.

It’d been three years, and I still couldn’t warm your heart.

I looked up at her and calmly poured myself a cup of water.

My voice came out light and even. “Alright. I understand.”

Amelie hadn’t expected such a composed reaction.

Her face darkened instantly.

I set my cup down and didn’t give her a chance to speak.

“Don’t worry. I don’t want Emmett anymore. He’s all yours.”

As soon as the words left my lips, I rose from my seat, ready to leave.

But Amelie suddenly stood up and grabbed my arm.

Before I could react, she seized the steaming cup of water from the table and hurled it at me.

The scalding liquid splashed across my shoulder and chest.

Still not satisfied, she reached for her handbag and aimed it straight at my face.

I raised my hand instinctively and slapped her hard across the cheek.

Stunned and seething, Amelie lunged forward and shoved me to the floor with all her strength.

I had been sheltered my whole life, raised as a gentle, soft-spoken girl, but even docile lambs grow teeth when cornered.

And at that moment, faced with a woman so vicious and irrational, I didn’t even think.

I stood up and struck her again.

"How dare you!" she shrieked, her face twisted in rage.

I stared at her, unflinching, not the slightest bit afraid.

In fact, I almost laughed.

“I’ll kill you!” she screamed.

Hearing her hurl those words, my patience snapped.

I raised my hand once more, ready to deliver another slap.

But just before my palm met her cheek again, someone caught my wrist.

I turned and saw Emmett standing there, his face twisted in fury.

The moment Amelie spotted him, she put on a wounded expression and threw herself into his arms, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Your girlfriend is so cruel, Emmett,” she sobbed. “I just wanted to talk to her, and she tried to hit me…”

Seeing her weep so pitifully in his arms, Emmett’s face darkened further.

“Claire!” he snapped. “Why did you hit her for no reason? Was it Franklin who taught you that, or did I?”

My eyes burned red with anger, and my voice trembled with fury.

“For no reason? What a joke! The restaurant has surveillance—go check the footage. See for yourself why I hit her, and what she did to me!”

Could he not see how soaked I was? The disheveled state I was in?

I had intended to lay out the facts calmly and reasonably, but he blindly defended Amelie, never once bothering to confirm the truth.

“No matter what happened,” he said coldly, “you shouldn’t have raised your hand. Amelie said she only asked you out for a meal. She did nothing to you.

“Attacking someone is wrong, Claire. You need to apologize.”

He wanted me to apologize to her?

The victim… apologizing to the aggressor?

Fury surged in my chest. I stared at him.

“I did nothing wrong. No matter what you say, I won’t apologize,” I said firmly.

He insisted on an apology, and I stood firm in my refusal.

Neither of us wanted to give in.

In the end, it was Amelie—perhaps afraid the situation would escalate and expose the truth—who raised her tear-streaked face and looked at Emmett.

“It’s my fault… Don’t argue with her anymore. My heart… It’s acting up again…” she whispered.

Emmett’s face immediately showed signs of anxiety and panic.

He shot me a look that was hard to read and rushed to help Amelie up, then hurried to the hospital without a backward glance.

Watching them leave, my anger gradually faded, replaced by a deep sense of frustration and sorrow.

Tears, which I had held back for so long, suddenly overwhelmed me.

I quickly wiped them away, then went to the restroom to wash my face before leaving the restaurant.

Just as I stepped onto the sidewalk, a motorcycle came speeding toward me.

In the next moment, Emmett appeared out of nowhere, pulling me into his arms to protect me.

A loud crash rang out, and the entire world spun out of control.

In the chaos, I lost consciousness.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself lying in a hospital bed.

Emmett sat at my bedside, his face pale and exhausted, yet his eyes sparkled with a mix of concern and relief.

“You’re awake! You scared me to death! Don’t ever do that again, do you hear me?

“Stay still, don’t move. I’ll go call the doctor to check on you.”

After he left, his phone, which he had left on the table, suddenly buzzed with a new message notification.

I glanced at the message Amelie had sent.

When Emmett returned with the doctor, he noticed that his phone screen was lit up and his pupils constricted.

He immediately stood, took his phone, and quickly scanned its contents. His steps faltered for a moment.

Unable to resist, he glanced at me as the doctor examined me.

"Did you have a look at my phone just now?"

"No, why?" I asked calmly.

He smiled, as if relieved, then casually said, "It’s nothing."

He turned and asked the doctor about various precautions I needed to take.

For the first time, I couldn't read him.

This was supposed to be our charade—a transactional relationship with an expiration date.

He shouldn't care whether I saw his messages.

Unless…

The treacherous thought surfaced: Was he afraid of losing me?

I crushed the hope before it could take root.

After everything, how could I still be this naive?

The monitors beeped steadily as I made my decision.

I would go home.

Leave Emmett behind.

And finally, stop loving him.

I spent a few days in the hospital, and Emmett didn’t leave my side the entire time.

On the day I was discharged, he looked at my thin, pale face, a flicker of concern flashing through his eyes.

“Once you're back home, Claire, you really need to start taking care of yourself. You’ve lost so much weight, there’s hardly anything left of you.”

I picked up my luggage, my expression calm and unreadable.

“There’s no need. I feel fine now—better than I ever have.”

His brows knit slightly at my words. Something about my tone unsettled him.

He glanced at me, as if searching for an answer I wouldn’t give.

“You call this fine? You look like a gust of wind could carry you away. I even asked Carole to teach me how to make beef stew.

“I’ll cook it for you every day until you're glowing and healthy again.”

I turned away, avoiding his eyes.

“There is no ‘every day’ anymore. Not for us,” I said softly.

After I returned home, I got a call from Uncle Franklin.

“Claire, I had the villa by the creek cleaned top to bottom, and even had tulips planted in the garden—your favorites. So, when are you returning to Brighton Reach? You’re not lying to me, are you?”

Hearing his voice brought a warm smile to my face for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Of course not! I’ve already booked a ticket for 3 PM tomorrow.”

Before the words had fully left my lips, the door swung open.

Quickly, I ended the call and looked up just as Emmett walked in.

He’d been in the bathroom and had overheard my laugh, rare as it had become.

Curiosity tugged at him.

Drying his hair with a towel, he asked casually, “A ticket? Where are you going?”

Brighton Reach, I answered silently.

But my expression remained still, my tone as even as ever.

“It’s nothing. Not important.”

Emmett didn’t think much of it.

He casually loosened the belt of his black bathrobe, his voice relaxed and careless.

“Were you just talking to Franklin?”

I gave a quiet hum in response and turned to head toward the balcony, but he caught my wrist.

With a gentle tug, I stumbled into his embrace.

His warm breath brushed my cheek, the air between us thick with unspoken tension.

He held me, leaning in as if to kiss me, but I turned away, offering an excuse—something about having to go to school early tomorrow to collect my diploma.

Later that night, while Emmett slept soundly beside me, I carefully reached for his phone.

In one of his group chats, his friends were actively plotting my humiliation.

[Hey Emmett, isn’t Claire graduating tomorrow? Weren’t you going to release her photos that day? Why haven’t you sent them yet?]

[Wonder if that goody-two-shoes has a body to match. Can’t wait!]

[C’mon, Emmett, give us a preview. Let us enjoy a little something first.]

[Yeah, man! Stop holding out. Send them already!]

Sweat gathered in my palms. I exited the group chat and opened his photo gallery.

One by one, I deleted each and every compromising photo.

In that moment, it felt as though I had finally laid down a burden I had been carrying far too long.

The next morning, I packed my bags in silence, ready to leave.

Emmett happened to wake just as I stood in the entryway. Still groggy, he blinked in confusion.

“Babe, it’s so early—where are you going?”

“I’m picking up Uncle Franklin,” I replied calmly.

His eyes drifted to the suitcase by my side, a trace of doubt flickering across his face.

“If you’re just picking up Franklin… What's with the suitcase?”

“These are some gifts from Silverbridge,” I answered, unfazed.

“I’m bringing them back for him.”

He didn’t press further. Instead, he got up and reached for my arm.

“Wait for me. I’ll go with you.”

I gently shook my head.

“No need. Let’s wait until after graduation to talk about us. I don’t want to upset Uncle Franklin right now if he sees you.

“I’ll go alone. You can just meet me at school later this afternoon.”

Emmett paused as if weighing the thought.

Eventually, he gave a small, understanding smile.

“Alright. Once you pick him up, come straight to campus. I’ll be waiting for you.”

I nodded with a smile and closed the door behind me.

The place I had lived in for three years was now spotless—erased of every trace of me.

Just the way I wanted it.

I told myself this was right.

With my suitcase in hand, I took one final look at the apartment.

Then I turned and walked away, never once looking back.

Goodbye, Emmett.