After the Ferguson family went bankrupt, I gave up everything I had and followed Ethan Ferguson to Stormbay.

Five years later, he had fought his way back into the top three on the Forbes rich list. He rebuilt the empire everyone believed he had lost for good. He never mentioned marriage, no matter how much we had been through together.

I did not understand the reason until the night before Memorial Day.

I woke after midnight and saw Ethan standing alone on the terrace of our beachfront house. The cold ocean wind swept through the darkness while he lit three white candles one by one. Their flames flickered softly against the night.

He faced the distant horizon across the sea and lowered his voice.

“Mom, Dad… I’m sorry I couldn’t come see you again this year.”

He paused, and his expression softened.

“However, please keep watching over Vivi. Keep her healthy… and bless the two of us with a long, happy life together.”

Warmth spread through my chest as I listened.

My health had never been good, and every year near Memorial Day, Ethan refused to let me exhaust myself with the long trip home. He always went alone to visit his parents’ graves while I stayed behind in Stormbay.

This year, when I saw the homesickness in his eyes, I decided to surprise him. I wanted to make the trip in his place.

I never expected my entire world to collapse the moment I arrived at the cemetery.

Ethan’s name was carved into the headstone.

Beside it was the name of another woman.

Olivia Ferguson.

My gaze drifted lower.

A framed family photograph sat at the foot of the headstone. Its edges had curled from the ocean wind.

In the picture, Ethan held a little blond-haired boy in his arms. The child looked no older than three.

Olivia stood beside him, smiling softly at the camera.

A sharp pain cut through my chest.

Only then did I understand the truth.

The “Vivi” Ethan prayed for was never Vivian.

It had been Olivia all along.

I stood there, staring blankly at the gravestone, when the old cemetery caretaker walked over and spoke to me.

“Miss, what relation are you to the elderly couple from the Ferguson family? I do not think I have seen you here before.”

His simple question struck me like a knife to the chest.

Yeah. What was I?

The place beside Ethan Ferguson, the place that should have belonged to his wife, already had Olivia’s name carved into it. The letters were neat and permanent.

I stood under the sunlight, yet I felt like a rat that belonged in the shadows. I felt small and ashamed, like a person with no identity I could admit out loud.

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat and answered quietly, “Just a distant relative.”

The old man nodded.

“That makes sense. If you were close family, there is no way you would have missed the memorial ceremony Mr. Ferguson held three years ago.”

“You should have seen it. The whole thing was grand. Mr. Ferguson organized a private memorial for his parents and invited relatives, friends, and many important business people.”

“His wife was there too. She held their little son in her arms while the three of them placed white roses in front of the grave.”

“After that, they hosted several nights of dinners at the manor. It was the first time Mr. Ferguson introduced his wife and son to everyone. Almost all the Ferguson relatives and business partners were there.”

“Mrs. Ferguson was gorgeous. Young too. Looked like a movie star. I even saved a photo.” He pulled out his phone and showed me the picture.

On the screen, Olivia Lynch wore a white dress and held a swaddled baby in her arms. Her smile looked gentle and peaceful.

Ethan stood beside her with one arm around her waist. He looked down at her with a soft smile in his eyes.

It was only a photograph, yet the love in his gaze was clear and strong. It pierced straight through me.

I had never seen him look at anyone that way.

My eyes drifted to the date in the corner of the photo, and my breath caught.

November 6. Three years ago.

The day before that was the day I found out I was pregnant.

I had been so happy then. I believed that once Ethan heard the news, he would cry happy tears like I did. I thought he would rush to marry me and give our child a complete family.

However, the moment I told him, the smile vanished from his face.

“Vivian, I have told you many times. Marriage and children are not part of my plans for the next few years.

“This baby came at the wrong time. Let us not keep it for now. When the timing is better in the future, we can talk about it again, okay?”

As I listened to those cold words, I felt, for the first time, that the man in front of me was a stranger.

In the past, no matter how unreasonable his demands were, the second I saw him angry, I always gave in without hesitation.

However, that time, for the first time in my life, I argued back.

“No! I am not giving up my baby no matter what! Even if I have to raise this child alone, I will never get rid of him!”

I tried to run away in tears. During the struggle, I lost my footing and fell down the stairs.

When I woke up, I lay in a hospital bed.

The baby was gone, and Ethan was not there.

There was only one message on my phone. He said an important overseas meeting had come up and that he would be away on a business trip for a few days.

Back then, I believed something serious must have happened for him to leave me alone at the weakest and most painful moment of my life.

I finally understood the truth.

He had not left because of work. He had gone home with Olivia and their child so he could tell the world that she was his rightful wife.

The realization cut through me like a blade. My chest tightened, and tears blurred my vision.

I wandered back to Stormbay in a daze. I did not go home. I went straight to the immigration office. I wanted to transfer my identity registration back across the ocean and withdraw the savings I had spent years building through work.

After the employee entered my information into the system, she looked up at me with suspicion.

“Ms. Quinn, the Crownland ID card you are carrying is fake. Your official identity registration has always been tied to your overseas citizenship. All these years, you have only stayed in Crownland on a tourist visa.

“And this bank card does not belong to you either. The account holder is a woman named Olivia.

“In other words, if you want to withdraw any money, you will need her permission.”

My mind went blank.

On my first day in Crownland, Ethan had handed me that local ID card. He told me he had arranged long-term residency for me so I would not have to worry about visas. I never doubted him.

The bank card?

The gallery’s finance department gave it to me during my second month of work. It was supposed to be my payroll card.

I had lived carefully for years, saving every penny so I could have a little security of my own.

I thought that if Ethan ever stopped loving me, at least I would not be left with nothing.

Ethan knew better than anyone how much stability and that job meant to me. I could not understand why he would do that to me.

I stumbled out of the office in a panic, flagged down a cab, and rushed to the art gallery where I had worked for five years.

The gallery owner was a gentle middle-aged local woman named Cooper.

She had always treated me politely. When I burst into her office, she was organizing a collection of award-winning artwork from previous years.

In the past, she never allowed me to look through those files. She always said artists should not be influenced by outside opinions.

This time, I ignored all manners and pulled the folder from her hands.

The moment I saw the name listed under the awards, my breathing froze.

Olivia.

Every award-winning painting I had poured my soul into for five years, every sleepless night, every ounce of effort and passion…

The final signature on all of them belonged to Olivia.

My knees nearly gave out.

“Sophie, why are my payroll card and all the competition entries registered under Olivia’s name?

“The copyrights to those paintings, the awards, the recognition… they all became Olivia’s? Then what was the point of all my hard work these past years?”

Sophie gave an awkward laugh and avoided my eyes.

“Ms. Quinn, this was arranged according to Mr. Ferguson’s instructions from the beginning.

“Ms. Lynch is family to him. Registering everything under her identity made management easier and avoided trouble. It also saved her the effort of creating artwork herself.

“We are a small gallery. There are many things we cannot decide. Please do not make things difficult for us…”

As I listened, the last trace of hope inside me shattered.

So this had been Ethan’s plan from the beginning.

Everything I had, everything I worked for, had been turned into a stepping stone for Olivia. I had been foolish enough to feel touched by his fake devotion and to make excuses for why he kept delaying our marriage.

I spun around and rushed out of the gallery. I needed to hear the truth from him myself.

By the time I reached the company building, I ignored the secretary’s panicked attempts to stop me and walked straight toward the CEO’s office.

“Daddy, I want ice cream!”

The childish voice made me freeze.

Inside the office, Ethan sat behind his desk with a little boy, about three years old, resting in his arms.

Olivia, dressed in an expensive designer gown, leaned against his shoulder and spoke to him with a soft smile.

I already knew about the child after seeing the photo at the cemetery.

Seeing them together in person still hit me so hard that it felt like my heart stopped.

Olivia noticed me first. Her face turned pale as she stood up in a hurry, which caused the child in her arms to shift unsteadily.

Ethan sensed something was wrong and turned around. Shock flashed through his eyes. Then he stepped in front of Olivia and the boy in a protective way.

“Why are you here?”

I forced a smile, but it faded before it even formed. My eyes burned with tears.

“You are right. I should not have come. Interrupting the happy life of your perfect little family of three. How unnecessary of me.”

Ethan’s brows tightened, and irritation filled his voice.

“Vivian, what kind of scene are you making now? Do you have to ruin a good day before you feel satisfied?”

Olivia stepped forward and grabbed his arm.

“Ethan, do not be angry at Ms. Quinn. She misunderstood things. I will explain everything to her.”

“I was not talking to you.” I gave Olivia a cold look.

Her eyes reddened at once. She lowered her head with the pitiful expression of someone too wronged to defend herself.

The little boy saw her expression and wriggled free. He wobbled toward me on his short legs.

“Bad lady! Do not bully my mommy!”

He was small and did not have much strength. The moment he pushed me, he lost his balance and fell to the floor. His lips trembled as he prepared to cry.

Olivia gasped and rushed over. She pulled the boy into her arms. When she looked at me again, tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Ms. Quinn, if you are angry, take it out on me. He is only a child. How could you hurt him?”

Ethan walked over and pulled Olivia and the boy into his embrace. When he looked at me again, every trace of warmth in his eyes had vanished.

“Vivian, enough. Arguing with a child? Have you lost your sense of boundaries?”

I stared at the way he protected them, and all I felt was cold disbelief.

Back then, when the Ferguson family went bankrupt, everyone abandoned them like rats fleeing a sinking ship. Olivia, his fiancée at the time, had been the first to break off the engagement. She took money and married overseas. She even helped outsiders suppress the Ferguson Group and push Ethan into ruin.

Me?

I gave up my future and left my homeland to follow him across the ocean to Stormbay when he had nothing.

We lived in a basement apartment. We survived on cheap instant noodles soaked in hot water. I stayed beside him as he climbed back up step by step.

However, after all those years together, I still could not compare to a childhood sweetheart.

At that moment, every question I wanted to ask felt meaningless and pathetic.

“Fine. You are compassionate and loyal. You want to take care of her and her son. I will not stop you.”

I placed the payroll card in front of Ethan.

“Give me every cent I earned from my paintings and exhibitions over the years. After that, we will owe each other nothing.”