Violet worked fast. Within two days, she found the hospital where Grandpa was staying and gave me another contact number, the person who would help erase every trace of Olivia from the world. Everything was ready. Almost everything. There was only one thing left for me to do.

See Grandpa before it was too late.

The morning I left, I dressed carefully and even put on a little makeup to hide how exhausted I looked. On the way, I bought a bouquet of flowers. For the first time in years, I felt nervous.

When I was sentenced, I had begged Alaric for only one thing. Don't tell Grandpa.

He was the man who raised me, taught me how to ride a bicycle, walked me to school, and always saved the biggest piece of meat for me at dinner. He knew nothing about the rumors, nothing about the lies, nothing about what people said my brother had done to me.

Because none of it was true.

My brother had never touched me.

He was dead and couldn't defend himself, yet people still dragged his name through the mud. Grandpa was old, his heart was weak, and I couldn't bear the thought of him hearing those accusations.

Standing outside his hospital room, I tightened my grip on the flowers and slowly smiled. Maybe everything would be okay. Maybe I would finally see him.

My fingers touched the doorknob.

Then something shattered inside the room.

A sharp voice followed.

Margaret laughed. "Look carefully, old man. See these pictures? Your precious granddaughter tied to a bed. I've got dozens more if you want to see them."

My blood turned cold.

Margaret continued mercilessly. "Do you know what your granddaughter's dead brother used to do to her? He molested her for years. He raped her. He ruined her."

Every word was a lie.

Margaret laughed again. "But that's not even the best part. You were the one who sent Olivia to live with him, so what does that make you? An accomplice? A failure? Maybe you deserve this too."

My breathing stopped.

Margaret stepped closer to the bed. "Your granddaughter is disgusting. Everyone online knows it. They know what kind of woman she is and what kind of family she comes from. Tell me, old man, why is someone like her still alive?"

I kicked the door open so hard it slammed against the wall.

"GRANDPA!"

My damaged voice cracked through the room.

Margaret spun around. The smile vanished from her face, replaced by something that looked almost like disappointment.

My bouquet slipped from my hands.

I looked straight at Grandpa.

His face had turned blue. His hands trembled violently. Tears streamed down his wrinkled cheeks while one hand clawed at his chest. The moment his cloudy eyes found me, more tears spilled out.

Grandpa's lips trembled. "O... Olivia..."

I ran to his side. "Grandpa, I'm here. It's okay. I'm here."

His shaking hand reached toward me.

"Oli..."

The monitor beside him suddenly erupted.

BEEEEEEP!

Doctors rushed forward. Nurses shouted. The room descended into chaos.

Then Margaret screamed.

"My foot! It hurts!"

I turned and saw blood spreading beneath her shoe. She had stepped onto the broken porcelain she had thrown earlier.

The door burst open.

Alaric rushed inside. "Marga, what happened?"

The second he saw her crying, his attention locked onto her.

Margaret grabbed his shirt. "Alaric, I'm scared. My foot hurts so much."

Without hesitation, he lifted her into his arms.

Only then did he notice me.

His eyes moved from my tear-streaked face to Grandpa lying unconscious on the bed. Somehow, he still reached the wrong conclusion.

"Olivia," Alaric said coldly, "how many times do I have to tell you? Why do you keep causing trouble for Marga?"

I stared at him in disbelief.

My grandfather was dying.

And he was worried about Margaret's foot.

The monitor shrieked louder while doctors continued trying to save Grandpa.

Margaret suddenly clutched her chest. "Alaric, I can't breathe."

Panic appeared on his face instantly.

"Marga, stay calm."

Then he turned toward the medical staff.

"I said get over here."

One doctor hesitated. "But sir, the patient—"

Alaric's expression darkened. "I said get over here. Don't make me repeat myself."

The entire ward fell silent.

His voice thundered through the room. "If anything happens to Marga, every single one of you is finished."

My heart stopped.

The doctors looked between Grandpa and Margaret, trapped and terrified.

I stumbled forward and grabbed Alaric's pant leg.

"Please," I begged. "Grandpa fainted. Please save him." Tears blurred my vision. "Please."

For a moment, I thought he would listen.

Instead, disgust appeared in his eyes.

"Your grandfather had enough strength to attack Marga," Alaric said coldly. "Stop acting like he's dying."

I shook my head frantically. "He didn't. He never touched her."

But Alaric had already decided.

Like always.

He pulled away from me, turned around, and walked out carrying Margaret in his arms.

The doctors exchanged helpless glances.

Then one of them slowly approached me.

Before he even spoke, I already knew.

"Miss Olivia," the doctor whispered, his voice breaking, "I'm sorry."

No.

"Your grandfather has passed away."

No!

The world stopped.

Tears hit my arm one after another.

I hadn't cried in years, but suddenly I couldn't stop.

I shook my head repeatedly.

"No."

The doctors began leaving. They had already been ordered away. There was nothing more they could do. I grabbed their sleeves desperately.

"Please save him! I'll— I'll do anything." My knees slammed into the floor. "Please!"

I bowed my head again and again until my forehead struck the ground. Blood ran down my face, but I didn't care.

"Please save him. But nobody stopped.

One by one, they left.

Until only Grandpa and I remained.

The room was painfully silent.

I stared at his motionless body.

And something inside me finally shattered.

A scream tore from my throat, raw and broken, the sound of someone who had lost everything.

This time, there was nobody left to hear it.

…

The day I was supposed to leave, the sky looked like it was about to collapse. Dark clouds covered everything, blocking every trace of sunlight. It reminded me of my life.

The past few days had been spent handling Grandpa's funeral. I signed documents, met relatives, accepted condolences, and repeated the same empty words until they lost all meaning. By the end, I felt nothing at all.

I returned home for one reason only, to collect my luggage.

The moment I stepped inside, I saw Alaric sitting in the living room. For a second, I almost didn't recognize him.

He hadn't attended Grandpa's funeral. He hadn't called, texted, or asked how I was doing. Yet there he was, sitting comfortably in our house as if nothing had happened.

Dark circles shadowed his eyes. A stack of documents sat on the coffee table. The moment he saw me, he stood and pushed them toward me.

"Take a look," Alaric said tiredly. "I've already reviewed everything. Just read it and tell me if there's a problem."

I lowered my gaze.

Divorce papers.

Alaric rubbed his temples before continuing, "This is Marga's fifth wish and the sixth is to be her husand for a month. Once I complete it, everything will finally be over and we can move on."

My fingers paused slightly.

"Marga wants a wedding," he said calmly. "A real ceremony, at least in appearance. That's the fifth thing she asked for."

I remained silent.

"We'll get divorced first," Alaric explained. "It's only paperwork. There'll be a cooling-off period, then we'll hold the ceremony."

He leaned forward slightly.

"But we won't register the marriage. It won't be legal, it's only for her wish. Once it's done, everything will return to normal."

Normal.

I almost laughed.

My brother was gone.

My grandfather was gone.

My marriage was gone.

My life was gone. What exactly was left to return to?

Without saying a word, I picked up the pen and signed my name.

Olivia Muffin.

The signature was neat and steady, as if it belonged to someone else.

Alaric stared at it for several seconds before releasing a long breath. The relief on his face was impossible to miss.

"Honey, it's finally over," Alaric said, his voice lighter than it had been in years. "After this, we can leave everything behind and start over." He leaned back against the sofa. "You always wanted to travel. We'll leave New York and go wherever you want. We'll bring Grandpa with us and spend time together."

My heart stopped.

I stared at him. Did he forget? Or had he never cared enough to remember?

Grandpa was dead.

Before I could speak, his phone rang.

Immediately, everything about him changed.

The tension left his shoulders. The exhaustion disappeared. And his eyes softened the moment he saw the caller ID.

Margaret.

Always Margaret.

"Marga," Alaric answered immediately. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Margaret's cheerful voice came through the phone. "We agreed we'd try wedding dresses today. Don't tell me you've forgotten already because I've been waiting forever."

Alaric checked the time and cursed under his breath.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I lost track of time. I'm leaving now and I'll be there soon."

Margaret laughed softly. "You always say that. If you don't get here quickly, I'm picking the ugliest dress I can find."

A smile appeared on his face.

"Be good and wait for me," Alaric replied gently. "Don't run around by yourself. I'll be there before you know it."

The call ended.

He grabbed his coat and headed toward the door.

Halfway there, he suddenly stopped.

Something made him look back.

I was still sitting on the sofa, watching him.

For some reason, he frowned.

As if something felt wrong.

As if he'd forgotten something important.

The feeling lasted only a second.

"Wait for me," Alaric said with a smile. "We'll talk tonight. There's still a lot we need to discuss."

Then he left.

The front door closed behind him and the house fell silent.

I sat there for a long time, listening to the emptiness around me.

Eventually, I walked to the storage cabinet and pulled out our wedding album from where it had been hidden behind old boxes. Dust coated the cover. My fingers brushed across it lightly.

Back then, I'd believed that wedding was the beginning of my happiness.

What a stupid dream!

I opened the album.

Photograph after photograph filled the pages. Smiling faces. Happy memories. Promises that had sounded eternal at the time.

Lies.

I stared at the first picture for a long moment before tearing it in half.

The ripping sound echoed through the silent house.

Then I tore another, and another.

Page after page, photograph after photograph, until shredded pieces covered the floor around my feet. Our wedding day. Our honeymoon. Birthdays. Anniversaries. Every memory that had once seemed precious became nothing more than scraps of paper.

I looked down at the mess and surprisingly, I felt nothing.

The woman who would've cried while destroying those photographs had disappeared a long time ago.

After a while, I closed the album and set it aside. Then I picked up my suitcase and walked toward the front door.

This time, I didn't look back.

Because the moment I signed those divorce papers, Alaric became someone else's problem.

As for the wedding gift I had prepared for the happy couple...

I smiled faintly.

They would receive it soon enough.

And when they did, neither of them would ever forget it.

« ALARIC'S POV »

The days leading up to the wedding were a fucking headache.

Every day followed the same routine. Mornings were spent handling the endless demands of both the syndicate and Hamilton Global, the technology empire I controlled. Meetings, acquisitions, security reports, AI development projects, cloud infrastructure contracts, hardware launches, legal disputes. The workload never ended. By night, I was dragged into wedding preparations for a ceremony that was never supposed to mean anything.

At least, that had been the agreement.

I'd made that clear from the beginning.

Margaret apparently hadn't gotten the memo.

Every minor detail somehow became a three-hour debate. Flowers, table settings, lighting, music, guest lists, decorations. I was reaching the point where hearing the word "wedding" made me want to walk out of the room.

One afternoon, Margaret pulled out a dusty box filled with old letters. She sat beside me on the couch and unfolded them one by one, smiling as if she'd uncovered buried treasure.

"Look at this," she said with a laugh. "You wrote that we'd get married by the sea someday. And here, you promised you'd buy me a huge house with a garden. You even said we'd have three kids."

I barely looked up from the report in my hands.

"Hm."

Her smile weakened. "You remember these, don't you? Back then, we talked about our future every day. We planned everything."

I rubbed my temple. The headache that had been building all week intensified.

"Marga," I removed her arms from around my neck, "you can handle the wedding arrangements yourself. I don't care what flowers you choose, what color the ribbons are, or what kind of centerpieces you want. Just make the decisions and tell people what the fuck to do."

She stared at me. "But this is our wedding!"

"No," I said immediately. "It's your wedding."

The room fell silent.

The disappointment on her face was obvious, but I was too exhausted to care. For weeks, every thought had somehow circled back to Olivia.

While reviewing contracts, I thought about Olivia.

While attending board meetings, I thought about Olivia.

Even while Margaret talked, half my attention was somewhere else... With Olivia.

Soon.

Just a little longer.

Once this was finished, I'd make things right.

I had to. I owed her that much.

Maybe more.

Hell, I probably owed her everything.

...

That night, after Margaret finally left, I remained alone in my office.

The top floors of Hamilton tower were quiet after midnight. The city lights glowed through the glass walls while darkness filled the empty building.

I opened the bottom drawer of my desk and pulled out a small black box.

For a long moment, I simply stared at it.

Then I opened it. Inside sat a wedding ring. Exactly where I'd left it eight years ago.

I still remembered the day Olivia threw it at me. The hatred in her eyes. The way her hands shook. The way she looked at me like I was the last person she'd ever trust again.

I picked up the ring and turned it over in my palm.

For eight years, I'd kept it. Protected it. And waited.

I waited for Olivia to come home.

And when she finally did...

I managed to screw everything up all over again.

"Fuck," I muttered.

Leaning back in my chair, I laughed bitterly.

Maybe I really was an asshole.

No.

There was no maybe about it.

I grabbed my phone and opened our chat history.

After staring at the screen for a while, I finally typed:

"Baby, I remember you always wanted to see Norway. How about we leave in a few days? Just the two of us. We'll stay as long as you want and forget everything for a while."

I stared at the message and hit send.

A second later, a red exclamation mark appeared.

I frowned.

What the fuck?

Blocked?

I refreshed the chat but still blocked.

A short, humorless laugh escaped me.

"Seriously?"

I tossed the phone onto the desk.

Fine!

She was angry and I understood that. But how long was she planning to punish me?

Eventually, I closed my eyes.

Tomorrow was the wedding.

After 1 month, everything would finally be over.

Or so I thought.

The moment I arrived at the venue the next day, I knew something was wrong.

Luxury cars lined the entrance. Media vans filled the parking lot. Reporters crowded the front steps.

Cameras were everywhere. Influencers streamed live from their phones and guests I didn't recognize filled the property.

My expression darkened immediately.

What the fuck is this?

I spotted Margaret greeting people near the entrance and walked straight toward her.

"Marga," I grabbed her wrist, "we need to talk. Right now."

She blinked, then smiled.

I dragged her into a private room and shut the door behind us.

"What the fuck is going on?" I asked. "Who invited all those reporters? Why are there cameras everywhere?"

"Oh," she said casually. "That."

I immediately knew I wasn't going to like the answer.

"I invited them."

"You fucking did what?"

Margaret stepped closer, excitement shining in her eyes.

"It's our wedding. I wanted everyone to witness it. Not just the reporters either. I invited some of our supporters online, the people who've been cheering for us all these years."

My jaw tightened. "We agreed this would be private."

She ignored me. "Everyone supports us, Alaric. They know we're perfect together. They know I belong with you, not Olivia. If your parents hadn't interfered years ago, we'd already have a family by now."

She moved closer and brushed her nose against my chin.

Years ago, that would've worked but now I felt nothing.

I stepped back and her smile disappeared.

"Marga," I said coldly, "we had an agreement. You wanted me to fulfill your wishes, and I did. You wanted this wedding, and I gave it to you. You wanted me to stay and play along, and I fucking did."

Her face turned pale.

I continued. "I've completed all your wishes. After this wedding, I'll stay for one more month. That's my final promise. After that month ends, we're done. Completely."

Her lips trembled.

"Alaric—"

"No," I interrupted. "Listen carefully. I don't care how many reporters are outside. I don't care how many people support us. I don't care what the internet thinks. I am never getting back together with you."

The room fell silent.

Then I finally said the truth I'd been avoiding for weeks.

"I love Olivia," I said. "I already failed her once. I abandoned her once. I'm not making that mistake again."

Margaret stared at me.

Frozen.

The smile she'd worn all day shattered completely.