As soon as she stepped onto the first floor, Hazel saw them in her bridal suite, locked in a tight embrace, whispering words that only lovers could share.

Her chest tightened, but she forced herself to turn on the surveillance camera, piecing together the scattered fragments to reveal the truth.

It turned out that while she had been blissfully unaware, Ambrose and Scarlett had shared a scandalous past.

Eight years ago, in a bid to shed the label of a privileged heir, Ambrose had ventured into entrepreneurship. But his ambitions crumbled, and he teetered on the edge of ruin.

At his lowest, he crossed paths with Scarlett in a rundown youth hostel. Within a month, Scarlett had replaced Hazel, his childhood sweetheart. She carved herself into the most pivotal role in Ambrose’s heart.

But because the Wright family would never accept a daughter-in-law from such humble beginnings, Ambrose settled for Hazel, all the while secretly cherishing Scarlett in his heart.

She believed their bond, built from childhood, was fate’s design. In truth, she was nothing more than a stand-in, chosen out of convenience.

Her feet, raw and bleeding, mirrored the shattered fragments of her heart. The imprint of his slap, like a searing brand of humiliation, destroyed decades of trust and devotion.

A resolute fire ignited within her; she would let go of the man she had clung to for over a decade.

But this wedding wasn’t just an event; it was her dream, a vision of love and promise she had nurtured for years. It had been her lifeline during her darkest days, the glimmer of hope that kept her moving forward.

She refused to let the wedding she had meticulously crafted become a prize for the very people who had betrayed her.

So, Hazel decided that this wedding would mark the final chapter of her decade-long devotion. It would be her last act of closure before severing ties with both her biased family and the unfaithful man she had once loved.

After pouring out her emotions, she took a deep breath, pulled out her phone, and booked a flight for seven days later.

The screen blinked as the purchase went through, but it quickly switched back to the surveillance footage.

Perhaps it was fate, or maybe just cruel irony, but Hazel caught the tail end of Ambrose’s confession from years past.

"I regret it," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "When I was young and foolish, I mistook sand for pearls. If you’re willing to return, I’d call off this wedding for you."

He sighed, his voice softening. "Even if you refuse, I’ll still treat Hazel kindly since she reminds me of you."

Even though she had already made up her mind, even though she had seen the betrayal with her own eyes, hearing those words made Hazel’s heart quiver in a way she hadn’t expected.

Looking down at the screen, Hazel saw the love between them spill out as if it were too much to contain.

Scarlett seemed tipsy, her words slow and slurred, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she languidly sprawled across the sofa.

Ambrose, the same man who had scolded Hazel for drinking, now willingly cooked hangover soup for Scarlett, carefully feeding her spoonful by spoonful.

Scarlett turned her head away, a petulant kick directed at Ambrose.

"Who wants to marry you?"

Ambrose didn’t show any sign of anger. Instead, he reached for her foot, gently massaging it with a tenderness that made Hazel’s chest tighten.

Scarlett smiled contentedly.

"I know you can’t marry me because of your status. And I know you’ve never forgotten me."

"This bridal suite is decorated just the way I like it. The wedding ring you chose is based on my preferences. Even the high heels she’s wearing... those were the ones I didn’t want."

As she spoke, Scarlett rested her head gently against Ambrose’s chest.

"It doesn’t matter," she murmured, her voice low and soothing. "I don’t care about titles. As long as the person in your heart is always me, I’m satisfied. I will never leave you again. I’m willing to stay by your side in another capacity."

Hazel’s grip tightened around her phone, her fingers trembling.

Her heart felt as if it were being torn apart, piece by piece.

The most painful part? Even though she had already uncovered the truth, a tiny flicker of hope still lingered in Hazel’s chest, a desperate hope that Ambrose would draw the line at the very last moment.

In the next breath, Ambrose, who had been silent up until now, stepped forward. Without a word, he captured Scarlett in a lingering kiss, his lips pressing against hers with a passion that had been locked away for years.

Hazel couldn’t hold back anymore. Tremors wracked her body as tears streamed down her cheeks.

They had loved each other for ten years, yet every time Hazel had tried to kiss Ambrose, he turned away. Back then, she had convinced herself it was his shyness, his reserved nature. She never imagined that all his yearning, all the love he had buried deep inside, was meant for Scarlett.

They had shared countless nights together, tangled in the intimacy of the same bed, yet Ambrose had kept a piece of himself untouched, reserved for the one he truly loved.

Hazel’s nails bit into her palms, the sharp sting almost suffocating. She cast her gaze downward, her eyes falling on the high heels that felt too tight, too heavy.

They were a gift from Ambrose for their engagement, sparkling crystal diamonds that caught the light like a thousand stars. The shoes were as expensive as they were beautiful, a fairytale dream brought to life. Hazel had fallen in love with them the moment she saw them.

But no matter how stunning they were, they were one size too small, and the pain from wearing them had left her feet bloodied and raw.

Without a second thought, she slipped them off and tossed them into the trash.

Shoes that didn’t fit, no matter how dazzling, weren’t worth keeping.

And a marriage that didn’t fit, no matter how much love it held, wasn’t worth salvaging.

Just as she reached for her phone to call a cab, Ambrose appeared behind her. His voice sliced through the air, calling her name.

Hazel turned, meeting his gaze. The moment their eyes locked, Ambrose released Scarlett’s hand, guilt flickering in his eyes as he noticed the bruise on Hazel’s face.

“You’re sober now? I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted to snap you out of it before things went too far.”

Hazel glanced at Scarlett, and Ambrose quickly added, “It’s not what it looks like. Let me explain…”

“Don’t overthink it. Scarlett had too much to drink. It wasn’t safe for someone like her to walk home alone at night, so I brought her back here. She’s your sister, after all. It’s only natural for me to look out for her. Besides, she’s a considerate girl. She insisted on leaving early because she didn’t want you to misunderstand when you came back.”

Ambrose, usually a man of few words, suddenly became a fountain of excuses when it came to Scarlett. Every sentence seemed to be a defense, a justification for her actions.

Hazel stared at him, the man she had known for over twenty years, and felt as if a stranger stood before her.

They had grown up together, childhood sweethearts through and through. She had been by his side, supporting him through the grind of building his career. How had she ended up as nothing more than a placeholder?

The question lingered in her mind, but she didn’t want to seek an answer anymore. In seven days, she’d be gone.

She no longer had to endure it for the sake of "family harmony."

Hazel’s eyes locked onto Scarlett, and the words she had kept buried for over a decade finally slipped free, tumbling from her lips like a long-held breath.

“She’s not my sister. She’s the daughter of a mistress, and now she’s a mistress herself!”

The words hit like a thunderclap, shaking the room. Scarlett didn’t flinch, but Ambrose’s face twisted in fury.

The word “mistress” seemed to strike a nerve, unraveling his calm facade. He surged toward Hazel, his voice a roar that shattered his usual composure.

“Hazel! What nonsense are you spouting? Apologize to Scarlett right now!”

“Fatherless, motherless, no wonder your parents couldn’t stand you. You’re a bitter, vile person, and no one will ever love you. You deserve this!”

For ten years, Ambrose had never raised his voice at Hazel. But for Scarlett, in the span of one day, he had shouted at her twice.

Every word he spat was like a blade cutting deep into the rawest parts of Hazel’s soul.

Every word felt like a dagger, cutting deep and leaving scars that would never fully fade.

For a moment, Hazel thought she had misheard, her mind struggling to grasp the weight of what Ambrose had just said.

How could such cruel, venomous words come from his mouth? The man she had loved for so long.

She lifted her gaze, only to find Ambrose standing there, his body shielding Scarlett.

That familiar protective stance was too much to bear. It mirrored the past, when Scarlett's mother, Althea, had risen to the role of mistress, pushing Gianna, Hazel's mother aside and subjecting Hazel to endless cruelty. Zaccheus, Hazel's father had turned a blind eye.

And each time, it was Ambrose, who lived next door, who rushed in to defend her.

He had always been the one to stand up for her, to demand justice, to pull her into his arms and offer comfort when the world seemed too harsh.

When Hazel doubted her worth, Ambrose would always be there, declaring, "Hazel, you're the best person in the world. If they don’t want you, I do! No matter what happens, I’ll always stand by your side and protect you."

But years had passed, and those youthful promises had crumbled into nothing more than hollow echoes.

Now, Ambrose’s desire to protect was no longer aimed at Hazel but at Scarlett, the one who had caused her so much pain.

Hazel tried with all her strength to hold herself together, but tears spilled over, unstoppable.

Her heart was a raw, aching wound, and no words came to her to defend herself.

Seeing her like this, Ambrose's expression faltered, his guilt evident as his eyes avoided hers, instead landing on her bleeding feet.

"You're hurt?"

After all these years, Ambrose still couldn’t quite harden his heart against her.

He sighed softly, his words weighed down by regret. "Forget it. Let’s just say tonight was all nonsense... from being drunk. From now on—"

“There won’t be a ‘from now on,’” Hazel interrupted her voice barely a whisper.

"What?"

Ambrose sensed something had shifted within her, something he hadn’t expected.

But with everything that had unfolded that night, Ambrose’s mind was consumed by thoughts of Scarlett, leaving him with no energy left to focus on Hazel.

Just as he was about to speak, Scarlett’s voice, shaking with sobs, pierced through the air.

"Sister, do you really hate me that much? Forcing me to go abroad wasn’t enough; you want to drive me to my death, too? Fine, I’ll die, so I don’t burden Brother Ambrose anymore!"

Her words hit like a thunderclap, and before Hazel could respond, Scarlett ran toward the road.

It was late, empty streets, no cars in sight, but the panic surged within Ambrose, and he threw aside all hesitation. He rushed after Scarlett, his only thought to reach her.

In his frenzy, he collided with Hazel, sending her crashing to the ground. The sharp gravel scraped against her bleeding skin, the sting of it almost too much to bear.

The blows to her body, the weight of everything, drained her completely. She couldn’t even summon the strength to cry.

Ten years of love, gone, wasted. It had always been one-sided. A childhood sweetheart could never compete with an unexpected love.

She couldn’t compete with the woman Ambrose had held in his heart all along.

After what felt like an eternity, Hazel struggled to her feet, dragging her injured leg as she limped back to her room.

Once inside, she tended to her bloodied feet, then, with one final glance, she threw away the carefully selected wedding decorations she had once hoped would mark the start of forever.

Her gaze fell on the wedding countdown hanging in the living room, and for a brief moment, she hesitated.

Then, with a resigned sigh, she ripped off the word “wedding” and, in her heart, silently replaced it with a countdown to her departure.

There was so much to pack. The hours blurred together as she worked through the night, only falling into a restless sleep at four in the morning.

Barely three hours later, the shrill ring of her phone pulled her from her dreams.

“Hazel, are you awake? I ordered your favorite soup. I won’t be back today. Let’s push the wedding photoshoot to another day. There’s an emergency at the company, and I really can’t leave.”

Hazel rubbed her aching temples, her voice hoarse as she replied, “Alright.”

Her quick agreement and perhaps the sadness she couldn’t hide seemed to make Ambrose uneasy. His tone softened as though he was uncertain of the distance growing between them.