Looking into Chloe's bloodshot eyes, Liam withdrew his probing gaze. He lowered his eyelids, remaining silent and detached, his long lashes veiling whatever emotions stirred beneath.

Chloe had always adored Liam's physical perfection. Even now, standing there in the dim light, he looked like a flawless masterpiece-composed, balanced, and untouchable.

But in this moment, she loathed every inch of him. She hated his eyes, his brow, and his pristine, wrinkle-free white shirt. Most of all, she hated that eternal, "gentlemanly" warmth that felt as thin and cold as a sheet of ice.

It took a long time for her to find her voice. "I came for one thing. Tell me why. Why did you leave me at the altar?"

Why did you do this to me?

"I'm sorry."

Liam was silent for a beat before uttering those three words.

Those three simple words felt like a handful of salt rubbed into Chloe's bleeding heart. The pain was so sharp it felt like her lungs had collapsed.

Fifteen minutes later, Chloe walked out of the Martin estate, looking like a hollow shell of herself. Liam watched her lonely, retreating figure. Despite the ice in his veins, he couldn't be entirely ruthless. He pulled out his phone and called Justin.

"Take care of her," Liam commanded.

Justin's response was biting and cold. "Remember today, Liam. Since you chose to throw her away, her life is no longer any of your business."

On the drive back, Chloe broke. she sobbed until her chest felt like it was tearing apart, a raw, gut-wrenching sound that filled the car. Justin said nothing and asked nothing; he simply stayed by her side, a silent witness to her devastation.

The Waterfront

Justin rolled down the windows. The salt-heavy sea breeze rushed in, mixing with the rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the jagged rocks. The night felt impossibly lonely.

Chloe didn't know how long she had been crying. Only when her tears finally ran dry did she hear Justin's voice break the silence.

"That girl... her name is Sara Jay," Justin began slowly. "She's Brandon Jay's younger sister. She and Liam grew up together. Seven years ago, during that car accident, Sara was the one who saved Liam's life."

Chloe knew that part.

"Later, Sara was kidnapped and held abroad by Marcus Martin," Justin continued. "She was the leverage used to keep Brandon and Liam in line. Liam spent years searching for her. He truly believed she was dead... he had no idea she was still alive until now."

Chloe hadn't known any of that.

Childhood sweethearts.

Sara... Sara Jay. Brandon's sister...

It hit her then. For all these years, Liam had lived a lie, and she had been his primary audience.

"He thought she was dead, so he settled for me. That's why he agreed to the wedding," Chloe said, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. Her tears fell like rain on white petals-a sight that would break anyone's heart. "I was the only one kept in the dark. I spent six years being played for a fool, thinking I was the happiest woman in the world."

When Liam apologized just now, she saw guilt in his eyes. She saw debt. She even saw pity. But she saw absolutely no love.

At that moment, the harsh truth finally settled in: For six years, she was the only one playing for keeps. He had been sober and detached the entire time.

Only this morning, she had stood before her parents, swearing her life on Liam's loyalty. She had told them he would make her happy forever. Liam's "slap" to her face today was deafening.

Chloe remembered his words from earlier: "Chloe, I'm sorry. I've failed you. But the truth is... the only person I've ever loved is Sara."

She had given him six years of her life. She had stayed by his side through the madness, the darkness, and the climb to the top. In the end, all it was worth was a meaningless "I'm sorry."

The moments she had cherished as her happiest memories were now revealed to be nothing more than scenes from a cold, calculated play.

"Justin, he said he always loved Sara. He said love is about who gets there first." Chloe's voice was a ghost of itself. "With one sentence, he turned me into the most pathetic woman in this city."

"All these years, he was just acting. He used the Bishop family to climb. I fell for his 'devotion' hook, line, and sinker. I loved him with everything I had. I even... I even tried so hard to get into his bed like a fool."

When she was eighteen, Chloe had been ready to give herself to Liam. She had even tried to seduce him, but Liam had played the part of the perfect, honorable gentleman. He insisted on waiting until their wedding night, claiming she was too precious to rush. Even when he was clearly tempted, he never crossed the line.

"I finally get it today," she whispered, her lips pale and trembling. "He didn't refuse to touch me because I was 'precious.' He didn't touch me because he didn't want me."

The pain reached a limit where tears were no longer enough. Chloe let out a hollow, tragic laugh.

"Chloe." Justin reached out, his eyes brimming with a suppressed emotion that was beginning to leak through. "You lost him, but you still have us. You have your friends. If you need it... my shoulder is always here for you to lean on."

Chloe leaned her head against Justin's shoulder and closed her eyes, exhausted to her very soul. "Thank you, Justin."

She was so tired. Truly, deeply tired.

Justin looked down at her. Only when her breathing turned slow and steady did he dare to lift a finger, gently tracing the lines of her face with a look of deep, aching longing.

A Memory of Sixteen

Chloe fell into a deep, heavy sleep. In her dreams, her past with Liam played back like a movie.

It started when she was sixteen. Her parents had thrown her a massive, glittering birthday gala. Half the eligible young men in the city were there.

Chloe was a master of the arts-piano, chess, calligraphy-but she had no head for business. Since the Bishops were a one-child family, her father, Charles, was worried she wouldn't be able to carry the weight of their empire alone. He wanted to find a partner for her early-someone he could groom to take over.

Charles and his wife stood on the second-floor balcony that night, scanning the crowd of boys aged sixteen to twenty, looking for the perfect "seed."

Mrs. Bishop pointed toward a particularly striking teenager. "What about him? Out of all these kids, he seems the most impressive."

Charles looked where she pointed and hummed thoughtfully. "That's a boy from the Grayson family. But the Graysons are... complicated. That family is too messy for Chloe."

The boy's name was Xavier Grayson. He stood coolly behind his aunt, watching the crowd with an expressionless face. Even at nineteen, he possessed a maturity far beyond his years. He was tall, handsome, and carried an innate nobility that made him stand out like a hawk among crows.

But the Grayson family politics were a nightmare. Xavier had grown up under cold glares and hushed whispers. He was too dark, too quiet. He wasn't the right choice.

Mrs. Bishop sighed and moved her gaze, soon finding another candidate. "What about him? They say he's a Martin. Brilliant student, looks very clean and gentle."

Charles frowned. "A Martin? Which one?"

"The one standing under the magnolia tree."

Charles finally spotted the boy.

He was eighteen, dressed in a crisp white shirt, looking as refined as a piece of jade. With the white magnolia blossoms above him, he looked like a painting brought to life-eyes like stars, skin like porcelain, radiating a calm, gentle energy.

"Him?" Charles's frown deepened.

"What's wrong?" Mrs. Bishop asked hopefully. "I heard he's top of his class. His character is supposedly flawless."

Charles shook his head. "No. The Martin family situation is even worse than the Graysons. Besides... he lost a leg in a car accident last year."

Liam was indeed exceptional in every way. Before the accident, he had been the crown jewel of the Martin family, the heir apparent that everyone looked up to.

If it hadn't been for that car crash-the one that cost him a leg and saw his name ruthlessly struck from the inheritance list by the family patriarch-he wouldn't even be standing at a secondary event like this birthday gala.

Charles Bishop knew the truth: that "accident" smelled of his uncle Marcus Martin's interference. Charles didn't want Chloe anywhere near a family tree that grew such poisonous fruit.

"Let's keep looking," Charles sighed to his wife. "There are plenty of other options."

But as they scouted the lawn, a slim teenage girl was already pressed against a second-story window. Her bright, almond-shaped eyes were locked onto the boy standing beneath the white magnolia tree.

He came!

Chloe could hardly believe it. The boy who had occupied her every waking thought for two years-the one who had defined her standard of "perfection"-was actually at her party. Her heart hammered against her ribs so hard she thought it might bruise.

This was it. The feeling people wrote songs about.

It wasn't new to her. She had carried this crush since the first day of high school, from the exact moment he had sprinted toward her across the grass in his white soccer jersey. From that day on, the soccer field became her daily pilgrimage.

Then, the accident happened. He disappeared from the field forever. He only resurfaced months later for the college entrance exams, pale and refined, navigating the halls in a wheelchair. He had gone off to River City University while she finished high school, but she had never stopped tracking his progress. Every award he won, every rumor of his recovery-she knew it all.

The guests had all arrived. Charles and his wife led Chloe downstairs to make her official entrance.

In this city, Chloe Bishop was a living legend. They said that on the morning she was born, every flower in the private hospital bloomed at once, and a golden light settled over the building like a lucky charm.

A famous fortune teller, who happened to be recovering in the same hospital, had made a public declaration to the visiting relatives: "This girl carries a treasure basin into the world. The Bishop family is about to change forever."

Back then, the Bishops were just a small, struggling business. But within a few years of Chloe's birth, the Bishop Group had skyrocketed into a massive conglomerate. The family's fortune grew as she grew.

The boys invited today were the best their respective families had to offer, but there was a catch. Because Chloe was an only child, whoever she chose would have to marry into the Bishop family-effectively becoming a "trophy husband" who would take her name and manage the estate under Charles's guidance.

Mrs. Bishop whispered names into Chloe's ear, but Chloe was deaf to them. None of those names were "Liam."

After a round of social pleasantries, Chloe was cut loose to mingle with her peers. She was naturally graceful and easy to talk to, and the boys swarmed her. Most of them were more than willing to trade their family names for the keys to the Bishop empire and a bride as beautiful as Chloe.

"Go on, move!"

Isabella, a woman from the Grayson circle, nudged the silent teenager beside her. "Xavier, look at me. If the Bishop girl chooses you, Charles can use his connections to get your father's prison sentence reduced. Do it for him."

Xavier Grayson, the boy with the icy demeanor, finally showed a flicker of emotion. His jaw tightened.

"You're the most handsome boy here," Isabella pressed. "She'll definitely pick you. Just go!"

Xavier looked at Chloe-the girl being treated like a literal princess-and a faint, mocking smirk touched his lips. Still, he straightened his lean frame and began to walk toward her. Isabella watched his retreating back with a satisfied smile. Ever since Xavier's father went to prison, the Graysons had been in a tailspin. This was their only way back to the top.

"Hello. I'm Xavier Grayson, a freshman at-"

Chloe had just managed to escape a circle of admirers. Her eyes were fixed on the magnolia tree, and she could see Liam was preparing to leave. She had no patience for Xavier.

"Sorry," she interrupted, not even looking up at him as she tried to dodge past. "You're blocking my way."

At sixteen, Chloe was draped in the arrogance of youth. She brushed past Xavier without a second glance.

Xavier stood frozen, his hand still half-extended. He stared at his empty palm for a few seconds before slowly pulling it back. Around him, the other guests whispered and snickered about the "fallen" Grayson boy who didn't know his place.

He remained stoic, seemingly unaffected by the mockery. But as he turned to watch Chloe's retreating back, the crowd's gossip took a darker turn.

"Is that him? The son of that actress, Lana?"

"That's the one. Lana was a piece of work-cheating on her husband left and right until he caught her. He killed the lover in a rage and ruined his whole life for a woman like that."

"I don't know why he only stabbed the guy. If it were me, I'd have started with Lana."

Actress. Lover. Slut. The words were like jagged glass shards being driven into Xavier's heart. The icy, detached boy finally broke. His fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. His face drained of color, and his eyes burned with a dark, murderous red. In that moment, he looked like a demon crawling out of hell to settle a debt.

Chloe heard the whispers behind her and stopped. she turned around, her brow furrowed, and saw Xavier. The transformation in him terrified her. He looked like he truly hated the world-and his own mother.

As Xavier walked away, he passed right by Chloe. His gaze swept over her face for a split second.

Chloe felt the blood in her veins freeze. A bone-chilling cold swept through her, making it hard to breathe. Long after he disappeared, she stood there shivering. That boy... he's a monster, she thought.

But the drama was short-lived. In the high-society pond, Xavier was just a ripple. Everyone's attention snapped back to Chloe. She was the star, after all.

Under the collective, stunned gaze of the elite, the beautiful, proud girl rejected every healthy, powerful heir in the room. Instead, she walked straight to the boy in the white shirt standing under the magnolia tree.

This was the Bishop girl's choice.

But... a cripple?

Chloe walked up to him. It was the boldest thing she had ever done-her first act of open rebellion against her parents.

"I choose him," she announced.

Liam looked at her. Amidst the gazes of disbelief, jealousy, and mockery from the crowd, he watched her approach him with unwavering steps. His hands tightened slightly on the grips of his wheelchair.

"Why me?" he asked quietly.

"Because I like you," Chloe said, forcing a playful, easy tone. Her almond eyes were bright with stars-clear, honest, and incredibly brave. She looked like a perfect porcelain doll, radiating a sincerity that felt almost too pure for the world they lived in.