Blair trailed a step behind him, both of them carrying paper bags from a high-end supermarket filled with new linens, dishes, and scented candles.

They looked like a young couple who had just moved in, about to cook their first meal together.

My aunt, Lucia, had come down to meet me. Her brow furrowed at the sight, and I cut her off before she could speak.

"Zia, the delivery from Mamma is here. Remember to sort through it. And decant that wine beforehand; don't waste the vintage."

I didn't spare Ryder a single glance. For once, he was the one who broke the silence, offering an explanation.

"Olivia, don't get the wrong idea. Blair's old apartment had terrible security, so I helped her rent a suite in this building. It's such a coincidence that Zia lives here too. Why did you bring so much stuff?"

I turned to direct two of my soldati to unload the wooden crates from the truck, answering him without a glance.

"You don't need to report your affairs to me. These are from the family. Who knows when I'll be back, so they sent a little extra."

He was visibly relieved that I wasn't making a scene.

"That's good. Liv, your hometown isn't that far from here. Anytime you want to go back for a visit, just let me know."

He still had no idea I was leaving in three days. I didn't plan on telling him.

My aunt wanted to interject, but seeing the way Ryder was half-turned, carefully shielding Blair behind him, her face went cold.

The four of us stood there awkwardly in the lobby, frozen on the steps by the apartment entrance.

In the end, it was Blair who broke the silence, saying softly that her arms were tired.

Ryder immediately chimed in, asking my two soldati to wait.

He reasoned that Blair wasn't carrying much and should use the elevator first.

I glanced at the two shopping bags, stuffed to the brim, and gave a faint wave of my hand, motioning for my guards to step aside.

A flicker of surprise crossed Ryder's eyes before he quickly pulled Blair into the elevator.

The moment the elevator doors closed, I saw in Blair's demure, smiling face a reflection of myself from years ago.

Back then, when my aunt remarried and moved away, Ryder was just as attentive, running back and forth to carry my boxes into his brownstone, a wide grin on his face as he said he was welcoming home the lady of the house.

My aunt stood beside me and sighed.

"Olivia, are you sure you don't want me to ask? You've known each other for so long. It would be a shame if you broke up over a misunderstanding."

I shook my head.

"There's no need. There's no misunderstanding between us. He never lets something he truly cares about wait. The fact that he doesn't have to explain is the explanation."

In reality, the few things they bought could have been put away in five minutes.

But after I had carried all the gifts upstairs, shared a cup of tea with my aunt, and came back down to leave, he was nowhere in sight.

Out of respect for our seven years together, I still took out my phone and sent him a message, asking when he would be back.

The message had barely gone through when a voice note came back from him.

I pressed play and heard Blair's saccharine voice.

"Olivia, Ryder's helping me in my new kitchen! He just got this place set up for me, and there's so much to arrange. You go on ahead; I don't want to hold you up!"

I was about to call a car when she sent another one.

"Olivia, please don't get the wrong idea. Ryder is just helping me out. He knows how hard it is for a girl trying to make it in Star City all by herself..."

Thinking of my parents far away in Lanze, whom I hadn't seen much of in ten years, I swallowed the words in my throat and closed the chat window.

Not long after the car pulled away, Ryder's call came through.

"Olivia, what was that attitude you had with Blair? She's my subordinate. What's wrong with me helping her find a safe place to live? The company hasn't arranged housing yet, so shouldn't I lend a hand?"

"Olivia, when did you become like this? At the victory dinner, you were sulking the whole time, claiming you felt sick and wanted to leave. I haven't even gotten on your case about that, and now you're pulling this stunt?"

Through the phone, I could hear Blair's perfectly timed, suppressed sobs.

She was a world away from the sharp-tongued woman who had stood before me.

I saw right through their clumsy charade, but I was too tired to offer a word in my own defense.

"You're right, it was my fault. I'm fine. You go on."

Any more words would be a waste of time.

"I'm already on my way home," I said, my voice flat. "I didn't wait."

My flat reply cut him short.

As I hung up, the car was just pulling through the gates of the villa community.

I stepped out of the car and into the foyer, my phone buzzing nonstop. It was Ryder's company's internal Slack channel.

When I opened it, the unread messages had already piled into the triple digits.

The latest post was a photo from Blair: Ryder, sleeves rolled up, kneeling on the bathroom floor to fix her new shower head.

The caption read: "Where can you find such a considerate boss! I'd happily give my life to this job!"

It was followed by a flood of envy and compliments from the entire group of colleagues.

"I've never seen the big boss like this. Isn't he supposed to have extreme germaphobia? You can't tell at all!"

"Oh my god, a man out of a bespoke suit is so sexy! You can feel the testosterone through the screen. Deadly. I'm officially a fan."

"Dream on. The future Mrs. Boss posted that. We're just here to clock in and clock out."

When Ryder was just starting out and struggling, I was the one who handled all his miscellaneous affairs, unpaid.

That was until he hired Blair, who completely took over my role. As for this internal channel, I had forgotten to leave it.

I read through every single comment before clearing the chat history and clicking "Leave."

Since I had already decided to go, getting a preview of their married life wasn't as painful as I had imagined.

But for a moment, I was transported back seven years. When he was starting from scratch, he would constantly show off little moments of our life together in the group chat.

In those candid photos, I was either making him a Mancini espresso or hunched over, organizing his files.

There wasn't a single person in the company who didn't know the boss's intentions.

Wrapped in that fervent, possessive love, even the most tedious start-up period felt incredibly sweet.

His ostentatious affection had turned the otherwise dull work chat into the corner everyone loved to watch.

But all of that changed the day Blair arrived.

She took over all my roles. Including being the object of his public affections.

Ryder began to subtly forbid his staff from mentioning anything about me at the company. He quietly favored his new assistant.

Ryder had once docked an entire year's bonus from a manager I was friendly with, just for complaining that Blair was impulsive and not as composed as I was.

In the end, I had to privately cover the difference from my own funds to appease the furious manager.

Returning to this villa where I had lived for seven years, a place that was never truly mine, I began to pack my belongings.

While clearing out a drawer, I found a custom, vintage-style leather album. I held it in my hands and slowly flipped it open on the leather sofa.

It documented every gift Ryder had promised and given me over the past seven years.

Seven years ago, he had pressed me against a wall, swearing that once he filled all one hundred pages with our memories, we would exchange vows at the altar.

This thick album was filled, all but for the very last empty page.

We both knew what was missing. And now, I knew that my ring finger would never wear anything he gave me.

In the end, this final step had become the most ridiculous joke of all.

I took the album to the living room and threw it directly into the roaring fireplace.

I watched as the expensive leather curled and twisted in the flames, slowly turning to ash.

Along with my seven absurd years of fantasy, it all burned away.

Ryder walked in just in time to see this, his face instantly turning pale.

He charged over like a madman, shoved me hard onto the carpet, and plunged his bare hands into the scorching fireplace.

But the flames licked at the back of his hands, instantly searing his knuckles raw.

It was already burned, Ryder. There was nothing left to save.

He turned his head in frustration, his eyes bloodshot, watching the flames rapidly consume our past.

"Why did you burn it?" he finally yelled. "Olivia, are you insane? That was seven years of our memories, and you just destroyed it all!"

I pushed myself up from the carpet and brushed the dust off my silk robe.

The firelight cast a warm glow on my silhouette, but my voice was ice-cold.

"It's nothing," I said. "It got damp and moldy while I was cleaning, so I threw it out."

Ryder watched my detached movements and finally realized how out of line his own aggression had been.

He took a deep, regretful breath, and his tone softened.

"Did you get hurt? I'm sorry, Olivia, I was just too worked up. Those were seven years of our memories. Weren't we supposed to display it for everyone at our wedding? How could you just destroy it?"

"Even if it was moldy, you could have waited for me to come back and handle it. I would have found the best craftsman to restore it."

I couldn't even be bothered to look at him.

The man before me was no longer the boy who had blocked my doorway seven years ago, promising to lay the world at my feet.

"You haven't been home on time in a long while. You're so busy with company affairs, I wouldn't want to trouble you with such a small matter."

He stood before me, staring at the pile of smoldering ash, his broad shoulders slumped slightly, his eyes filled with sorrow.

The scene was utterly ironic.

He was the one who had personally handed these seven years over to another woman, and now he was here, acting like his heart was breaking.

I turned to go back to the master bedroom to continue packing.

He thought I was throwing a tantrum and grabbed my wrist, pulling me into his arms.

The cloying, cheap perfume clinging to his expensive shirt was so sharp it made my nose wrinkle.

He didn't let go. Instead, he lowered his head and nuzzled the top of my hair.

"Did you catch a cold? Baby, I'm sorry. I admit I've been swamped with the project lately and I've neglected you. Once this project is over, we'll fill a new one. I'll make it up to you, okay?"

In the past, I probably would have forgiven him with just those words. I might have even been incredibly moved.

But after waking up once in that hospital bed at the medical center, I felt that even touching him was a waste of effort.

A man who would risk my life for a laugh with another woman... believing in that kind of affection for a second longer would be an insult to myself.

Once he had calmed down, I pried his fingers off my waist, one by one.

"Baby, I know I've neglected you," he said earnestly, grabbing my hand.

"But I'm going to make it up to you. I've planned a huge surprise for tomorrow night. Just wait for it."

In the past, he always made grand promises about magnificent celebrations, but he never once delivered. I was leaving this house in two days. I didn't care what his surprise was anymore.

He was about to say something else when the phone in his pocket rang again.

He hurriedly let go of me and took a few steps back.

"There's an emergency with the company's network system. I have to go in person. Don't wait up for me tonight. I promise tomorrow's surprise will be perfect. Don't overthink things."

He was muttering excuses, his long legs already backing eagerly toward the foyer. Before he finished speaking, his back had completely disappeared through the front door.

The next second, the sound of a sports car's engine roared to life in the driveway.

I knew that light piano melody was the custom ringtone he had set just for Blair.

I knew everything, but there was no point in exposing him now.

The next morning, a top-tier party planning team arrived at the villa early. Along with them came Blair, clicking in on her high heels.

Under the guise of helping her boss, she brazenly took charge of the house as the "supervisor."

But after watching the workers bustle about for a whole day, I realized the decorations were just a rehash of the leftover materials from her own victory party.

As evening fell, the workers began to leave. She strolled up to me with a glass of red wine, her chin tilted up in defiance.

"Olivia, this is the result of my all-day supervision. Do you think these decorations are worthy of your status as the woman he keeps in the shadows?"

My eyes locked on the emerald pendant at the base of her throat.

The one I'd supposedly "lost" in a dressing room six months ago. She was wearing it so brazenly.

"Second-hand trash for a second-hand woman," I said, my voice low. "It suits you. If you like my leftovers, feel free to enjoy them."

I turned to leave. Her eyes darted toward the end of the hallway.

The next second, she violently shoved an entire row of aged Roland red wine off the wine cabinet.

The heavy, solid wood rack crashed to the floor, and countless expensive bottles shattered, mixing with sharp shards of glass.

Blair collapsed onto the floor, clutching a broken bottle neck in her hand, and began to cry hysterically.

Her performance was so dramatic I couldn't tell if the crimson on her hand was blood or wine.

Before I could react, the front door burst open.

Ryder rushed in, taking three steps at a time, only to be met with this scene: a floor covered in crimson and shattered glass, and Blair, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed uncontrollably.

He didn't ask a single question. He ruthlessly grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight I almost cried out in pain.

"Have you had enough?! Blair came here to help with your surprise, and what kind of tantrum are you throwing now?!"

"If you're going to act like this, I don't even know why I bothered planning anything for you!"

He flung my hand away and bent down to scoop Blair up into his arms.

As she settled against his shoulder, she glanced over it at me, a small, triumphant smile on her lips.

I sat all night in that wine-soaked living room, under the glare of the bright lights.

The crystal chandelier was blinding, illuminating the shattered bottles and the wine stains that had long since dried to a dark red.

As dawn broke, no one had come through the door.

That made sense. In these seven years, I had shrunk my world down to just Ryder.

Friends, the cousins I grew up with in the family, the stables I used to love… I pushed them all away, just to accommodate his "Just wait for me, I'll give you everything."

At ten in the morning, the tiramisu I had pre-ordered arrived on time.

It was from the old shop where we had shared a cake on our first anniversary.

I opened the box myself, cut a small piece from it, and placed it on the thinnest bone china plate.

There was no champagne on the table, no roses, and certainly not the man who was supposed to be there.

I stuck a thin candle in it, the flame flickering gently.

Closing my eyes, I made a wish for myself.

That in this life, I would never look back.

In the end, I didn't touch a single bite of the cake. I just watched the candle burn down to nothing. This anniversary party, years overdue, had only ever had one guest.

The moment the countdown on my lock screen widget hit zero, my phone began to vibrate uncontrollably.

I picked up the suitcase I had packed long ago and, without a single backward glance, walked out of the villa I had lived in for seven years, a home that had never been mine.

On the way to the family's private airfield, I opened my chat with Ryder and sent a final text.

"We're over. Don't contact me again."

It was just one text, but it was enough to end seven years of foolishness.

At that exact moment, across the city, Ryder was standing in a lavishly decorated venue, holding a diamond ring, waiting to propose.

But instead of seeing me walk through the doors, he only received my final text.

At the boarding gate, I glanced at my phone one last time. The screen was lit up with a wall of missed calls from Ryder.