Liora’s POV

When I finally regained consciousness, a faint medicinal scent drifted into my senses—clean, bitter, and unmistakably herbal. I was stretched out on a narrow but comfortable bed inside a private medical suite, its curtains drawn to let in soft afternoon light. An elderly doctor stood nearby, her expression calm and reassuring as she noticed my eyes open.

“You’re lucky you were brought here before it was too late,” she said gently, though there was an unmistakable note of seriousness beneath her kindness.

I wanted to answer her, to say something—anything—but my throat burned as if I had swallowed fire. No sound came out. The sharp agony from earlier was gone, yet an overwhelming fatigue clung to my body, weighing me down to the mattress. It felt as though every ounce of strength had been drained from me. I had come far too close to dying.

“You must never consume anything containing berries again,” the doctor continued, lightly tapping my chilled fingers as if scolding a careless child. “For you, that ingredient is lethal. Elisha rushed you here herself, begging me not to give up on you. Everyone knows you’re supposed to be Corwin Sterling’s future wife. You need to value your life more than this.”

Her concern was sincere, but her words struck painfully deep.

Future wife.

Once, that title had been everything to me. A certainty. A promise. Now, it felt like a cruel joke.

She placed a small glass vial into my palm. “Take this medicine three times a day for the next forty-eight hours. It will help your body stabilize. You’ll recover, but only if you rest.”

I nodded weakly in thanks. The rest of the day passed in silence as I lay there alone, staring at the ceiling, trying to piece together my thoughts. For a brief moment, the quiet almost soothed me—until the door slowly opened.

Corwin walked in.

The sight of him no longer brought comfort. Instead, a dull ache settled in my chest. He looked exhausted, dark circles beneath his eyes, his suit wrinkled as if he hadn’t slept.

He lowered himself beside my bed and wrapped his hand around mine. “Liora… thank God you’re awake,” he said softly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. Calista’s condition worsened. She needed me with her.”

Each word reopened wounds I didn’t think could bleed any further. I wanted to shout, to tell him that I had nearly died alone while he stayed with her—but my voice failed me, and the truth remained trapped in my chest.

His fingers brushed my cheek, familiar and gentle. For a split second, I almost convinced myself that the tenderness was still meant for me. But I knew better.

“I’ll come back later,” he added, standing up. “I just need to make sure Calista’s all right. She’s an important guest—the daughter of one of our partners. I can’t let anyone accuse me of neglecting her. You understand, don’t you? This is just responsibility. Don’t misunderstand.”

He pressed a light kiss to my forehead, just like he used to, then turned and walked out.

He didn’t return.

Later, Elisha—one of the private tutors employed by the Sterling estate—quietly told me that Corwin had left the city with Calista to resolve a corporate dispute overseas. The news hollowed me out. There was a time when I stood beside him in meetings, when I was the one he relied on. Now, that place belonged to her.

Left alone in my room, my eyes drifted to the wooden chest tucked neatly beneath the window. Inside were four hundred ninety-eight handwritten letters Corwin had given me over the years. Each one had carried a promise—that when the count reached five hundred, he would propose.

But six months had passed since the last letter.

My fingers trembled as I rested my hand on the lid. The memories were unbearable. I shut the box and stood abruptly. I couldn’t breathe in a room built on broken vows.

I stepped outside, hoping the breeze and the familiar chatter of the children I taught would steady me. Instead, I froze.

Corwin stood a few feet away, laughing easily beside Calista. He was helping her carry a basket of fresh apples, his smile brighter than I’d seen in months.

Once, that sight would have filled me with jealousy.

Now, I felt nothing at all.

Calista noticed me first. Her smile widened, sweet and innocent. “Liora! Would you like some apples? Mr. Muxim sent them over. Corwin said you’re fond of them.”

Corwin turned toward me, still smiling. “She loves apple pie,” he said casually.

I shook my head. “No. I don’t.”

His expression flickered in confusion. “What? Of course you do. We—”

“No,” I repeated quietly but firmly. “You do. I never did.”

Calista’s face twisted into exaggerated hurt. “Did I offend you? I was only trying to share.”

Her tone grated on me, but I kept my composure. I recognized the act—the helpless innocence she wore so well. And every time I rejected it, Corwin looked at me like I was cruel.

“Liora,” he said sharply. “Calista is being considerate. Can’t you try to be civil? She’s done nothing wrong, and you’re being unnecessarily cold.”

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat. I was too tired to fight anymore.

“Thank you for the apples, Calista,” I said, forcing a polite smile as I took three from the basket. “I have a class to teach.”

I turned away—

And Corwin’s hand closed around my arm.

Liora's POV

“You’re deliberately being unkind, Liora,” Corwin said, irritation threading through his voice as he held my arm.

I tilted my head, feigning calm, while Calista lingered just behind him, lips curved in that infuriatingly smug smile. “Unkind? To whom?” I asked, my tone almost polite.

“To Calista,” he replied sharply. “I’ve already told you—stop treating her this way. You’re always letting your jealousy show, and frankly, I’m exhausted by it. Why can’t you understand something so simple?” His fingers tightened around my arm, just enough to sting. “Why do you insist on making this difficult?”

“I’m not jealous, Corwin,” I answered evenly, forcing control into every word despite the anger coiling inside me. “I understand perfectly. And don’t worry—I won’t cause trouble.” The words tasted sour as they left my mouth, but I swallowed the bitterness down. I wanted to tell him that none of this mattered anymore. That I was leaving. That I was getting married to someone else. But what was the point? He wouldn’t care enough to listen.

He finally let go, his hand drifting up to my cheek in a familiar, almost intimate gesture. Once, that touch alone could make my heart race. Now, it felt hollow. “Just trust me, Liora,” he said softly. “I would never hurt you. Stop imagining things between Calista and me.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Trust him? Not hurt me? Those were the same assurances he had shattered again and again over the past six months. If I had died yesterday, I was certain he wouldn’t have mourned me—not truly.

When I reached the study hall where I taught, the children rushed toward me, laughter filling the space. Their excitement wrapped around me like a fragile comfort, easing the ache in my chest for just a moment. I had always dreamed of having children of my own—Corwin once promised we would, someday. Now those promises felt as empty as his touch.

I was going to miss these kids. The thought hurt more than I expected.

Later that evening, I checked my phone and found another message from my parents. They were asking about wedding arrangements—what kind of flowers I preferred, the cut of my gown, whether I wanted a veil or something simpler.

I had loved weddings since I was young. Years ago, I even helped plan Sinna’s wedding—Corwin’s younger sister. She was married now, with two beautiful children and a husband who adored her. And me? Ten years of loving Corwin had left me with nothing but humiliation and heartbreak. If I had let my parents choose for me back then, maybe I would already have a family of my own. Instead, I was standing here, discarded by the man I thought I would grow old with.

At the estate’s private market, I bought farewell gifts for the children and for Elisha—one of the few people here who still treated me with genuine warmth. Seeing me struggle under the weight of the packages, two security staff quietly stepped in to help, their wordless kindness nearly undoing me.

The moment I returned, Corwin noticed the bags. His eyes sharpened with suspicion. “What are those?” he asked. “Who are they for?” Then he lifted a sealed envelope a courier had handed him. “And what’s this about a wedding?”

I took the letter from his hand, instantly recognizing my mother’s handwriting. “I think we need to talk,” I began carefully, keeping my voice steady. “About marriage—”

Before I could finish, one of the staff rushed in, visibly flustered.

“Sir, Calista isn’t in her room. We’ve checked the entire house—she’s nowhere to be found.”

Corwin’s expression changed instantly. Worry overtook everything else. Without sparing me another glance, he turned and hurried away, chasing after Calista as if nothing else in the world mattered. He didn’t even say a word to me.

I delivered the gifts to the children and to Elisha, forcing a smile as I did. My hands shook, but I didn’t let them see it.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Elisha asked quietly, her voice heavy as she gently guided the children away.

“There’s no reason for me to stay,” I admitted, my voice cracking despite my efforts. “He’s chosen someone else. I need to move forward.”

“The children adore you,” she whispered. “And I… I won’t have anyone to help me anymore.”

“I’m getting married, Elisha,” I said softly. The words still felt strange on my tongue. “I can’t remain here.”

“To whom?” she asked, hope flickering in her eyes. “Is he better than Corwin?”

I hesitated, then nodded slightly. “I hope he is,” I said honestly. “I really do.”

Liora's POV

I had already finished packing my belongings into a single travel bag. There wasn’t much to take—only the essentials. I deliberately left behind every designer dress, every sparkling piece of jewelry Corwin had ever given me. I didn’t want to carry a single reminder of him with me. Not his expensive gifts, not the familiar scent that still lingered on the fabrics, and certainly not the hollow promises he had wrapped around my heart for ten years.

I would be leaving in five days.

Five days to settle loose ends. Five days to say goodbye—especially to the children who had grown attached to me, and whom I had grown to love more than I ever expected.

My gaze drifted back to the stack of handwritten letters on the table. They were the ones he’d written before everything between us collapsed beyond repair. Once, those letters had been my most treasured possessions. Now, they felt like nothing more than inked lies on fragile paper. Promises, after all, were meant to be broken—Corwin had proven that better than anyone.

One by one, I tore the letters apart.

The sound of paper ripping echoed through the room, strangely soothing, as if each tear loosened another chain binding me to the past. I was down to the final few when a voice—sharp, frantic, and unmistakably his—rang out behind me.

“What the hell are you doing, Liora?!”

I turned to see Corwin striding into the room, his gaze darting from the torn fragments clutched in my hands to the pieces scattered in the trash bin. He snatched the letter I was holding and rummaged through the bin, pulling out the shredded remains with shaking hands. His face was twisted in disbelief, as though I’d destroyed something sacred.

“Why?” he demanded hoarsely. “Why would you do this?” His voice cracked as he stared at the ruined letters like they were priceless treasures. “Is this because of Calista? Do these mean nothing to you now? I wrote every one of those for us, Liora. For our history. For everything we shared.”

His hands trembled as he tried—futilely—to piece the scraps together. For a fleeting second, I almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

“Answer me!” he snapped, gripping my arms tightly and forcing me to face him. “Why can’t you see it? Your jealousy is what’s destroying us!”

I met his icy blue stare without flinching, my expression calm, my voice steady. “You’re mistaken, Corwin. I’m not jealous,” I said evenly. “Those letters were already ruined. Insects got to them. They were full of holes, barely holding together. There was nothing left worth saving.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. Some of the letters had been damaged. I simply didn’t care enough to preserve what remained.

His eyes flicked back to the torn pieces, the anger in his face slowly dissolving into reluctant acceptance. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair until it stood messier than usual. “I could’ve handled it. I could’ve fixed them. Tearing them up like this was… extreme. It feels like you’re ripping apart what we still have.”

“Not everything can be fixed, Corwin,” I replied quietly, offering a small, practiced smile. “Some things are better left behind. Sometimes, the only option is to let go.”

He exhaled heavily, staring down at the shredded paper with regret etched into his features. “I can write new ones,” he said softly. “I shouldn’t have gotten angry. Those letters were meant to be part of our wedding someday.”

Wedding.

The word left a bitter aftertaste in my mouth.

I didn’t respond, and my silence didn’t go unnoticed. He reached up and cradled my face, his palm warm against my skin. “Are you alright?” he asked gently. “I know I haven’t been around much. But Calista needs protection right now. She almost got caught in a dangerous situation involving rival corporations, and I won’t let that happen again.” His voice softened. “You’re the only woman I love, Liora. The only one I plan to marry. You know that, don’t you?”

I nodded slowly. It was the answer he wanted—so I gave it to him.

He leaned in and pressed a brief kiss to my lips before pulling away. “Tell me,” he murmured. “What can I do to make things better between us?”

I stepped out of his hold and looked away. “I want a celebration,” I said lightly.

“A party?” He tilted his head, a faint smile appearing. “You’ve always loved events and dancing. When were you thinking?”

He didn’t know the truth—that I only pretended to enjoy those things because he did. I’d spent years molding myself to fit his world, convincing myself it was love. And yet, it had never been enough. The realization tightened painfully around my heart.

“Tomorrow night,” I replied with a smile I had perfected over time. “And I want you to dance with me.”

His smile hesitated for the briefest moment before he nodded. “If that’s what you want, then I’ll be there. We’ll dance. We’ll make it unforgettable.”

I hope so, I thought bitterly.

He kissed my forehead, lingering just long enough to feel familiar. “I should tell you,” he added after a pause, unable to meet my eyes. “I won’t be staying here tonight. There’s something urgent I need to deal with in the capital, but I promise I’ll be back in time for the celebration.”

I already knew the truth.

The staff whispered. The rumors traveled fast. He wasn’t going alone—Calista would be with him. They were heading to the city together.

Still, I kept my tone pleasant. “Be careful,” I said smoothly. “And don’t forget about tomorrow night.”

As he turned to leave, I watched his back disappear down the hall, fully aware that this was the beginning of my goodbye.