As Wendy's birthday approached, Grayson finally returned in haste, organizing a grand celebration in her honor.

When she descended the staircase in her gown, he was already waiting below. She cast him a glance, her eyes unusually calm—too calm. It was a quietude that bordered on unsettling.

Grayson's heart skipped a beat. The image of Wendy that lived in his memory was one of unrestrained brightness, of spirited vitality. But the woman before him now was a shadow of that, her complexion pale, her gaze hollow and devoid of its usual spark.

Acting on instinct, he stepped forward, arms reaching to pull her into an embrace, but she sidestepped with a slight turn of her body. Her voice was hoarse, a brittle thread barely holding itself together. "I've been feeling unwell lately. Better you don't touch me—wouldn't want you catching anything."

Her words hung in the air, brittle and impenetrable, as she walked past him, not sparing a glance at the hand he'd left suspended in midair.

Through the entire evening, Wendy played her role as an outsider looking in. She stood at the periphery of the celebration, watching Grayson put on his familiar act: his declarations of love, his gestures of devotion.

The climax of the evening arrived with his gift, as it did every year. Each birthday, Grayson spared no expense, presenting her with something rare, singular, and dazzling. This time, it was a necklace—a piece of royal lineage from Europe, priceless and unique.

The moment he revealed it, the room filled with gasps of awe. But Wendy barely glanced at it, lowering her eyes to veil the irony flashing within. She did not lift her hand to accept the necklace when he offered it.

Grayson, undeterred, assumed her reluctance stemmed from illness. Gently, he fastened the necklace around her neck himself, announcing the end of the party earlier than planned to escort her back to rest.

But as soon as they reached the car, his phone buzzed. One glance at the screen, and his expression shifted to a mask of polite regret. "Baby, something's come up. I need to handle it. You head home first, alright? Rest well, and I'll be back soon."

She merely nodded, her face an unreadable calm.

With her tacit approval, he kissed her lightly, then stepped out of the car. But no sooner had he left than her phone buzzed with a message from Rita.

Rita: [Follow him. There's a surprise waiting for you.]

Wendy stared at the message for a long moment. Eventually, she instructed the driver to turn the car around and follow Grayson's.

It didn't take long. His car stopped in front of Rita's villa. The urgency in his movements was palpable; he didn't even bother shutting the car door before rushing inside.

Wendy's clenched grip on her phone tightened as she stepped out. The villa's door had been carelessly left ajar. Slowly, she pushed it open.

What greeted her was another birthday party.

But this one wasn't hers.

Inside the villa, the scene was surreal. Guests filled the room, laughing and toasting. Rita stood at the center, radiant and poised. By her side was Grayson. Among the crowd were Grayson's closest friends, even his parents.

Wendy's rational mind screamed at her to leave, to spare herself the pain of what would come next. But her body betrayed her, her feet rooted to the spot as if bound by invisible chains.

She watched, unblinking, as Grayson draped a necklace identical to hers around Rita's neck.

His friends erupted in playful teasing. "Your wife looks stunning with it, doesn't she?"

Grayson's gaze turned cold, silencing them with a sharp glance.

"Don't call her that. You all know who my wife is."

They laughed it off, making exaggerated zipping motions over their mouths.

"Relax, Grayson. We won't let your precious darling find out."

"Yeah, we've been tight-lipped since the day you introduced Rita to us six months ago."

Even Grayson's mother approached Rita, slipping an heirloom bracelet onto her wrist while saying, "You've stayed in the shadows long enough. Once the child is born, you'll truly be a part of this family."

The rest of Grayson's mother's words became an indistinct hum in Wendy's ears. Her clenched fists fell limply to her side. Without a word, she turned and walked away.

Her pace quickened, as though an unseen demon was chasing her, compelling her to escape. Suddenly, she broke into a run, her footsteps growing frantic against the pavement. She ran faster and faster until she stumbled and fell.

The sky chose that moment to split open. Lightning ripped through the night sky, illuminating her silhouette against the dark. The storm followed in its wake, a torrential downpour that cascaded like a tidal wave, drowning the streets in a veil of chaos. Everything around her dissolved into a hazy blur of rain and despair.

The heavy rain soaked Wendy's clothes as she gazed at the palm of her hand, bruised from the fall. Suddenly, her mind flashed to a memory from long ago—when Grayson first brought her home to meet his family.

His mother, Carrie had placed the family heirloom jade bracelet carefully onto Wendy's wrist, saying, "In my lifetime, I will only acknowledge you as my daughter-in-law."

His bros had smiled at her with respect, their voices warm as they said, "A sister-in-law for life, we'll only recognize you as our sister-in-law."

But now, Carrie had accepted another woman as her daughter-in-law, and his bros called that woman their sister-in-law. They were all just like Grayson, speaking of love and respect, but in their hearts, they had already recognized another.

What was even more tragic was that their conversation had plainly revealed that they had known about Rita's existence long before she did. And they had all helped Grayson hide it from her.

She was the only fool in this entire world.

There she was, crouching on the road, the bustling pedestrians passing by, yet no one bothered to shield her from the rain.

After the storm passed, Wendy fell seriously ill, her fever stubbornly refusing to subside. Her body was weak, and her head spun in a fog.

In the villa, Grayson's voice rang out, low and furious. "She's been burning up for three days! Why hasn't the fever gone down yet?"

The doctors stammered, offering no explanations, their eyes filled with helplessness. The room felt suffocating, the air so thick it almost choked.

Finally, Grayson waved them all away, his face dark, and sat back down. He took her hand, his eyes red.

"Baby, please get better..."

But Wendy remained pale as she lay on the bed, her eyes shut tight, motionless.

Another night passed, and finally, Wendy's fever broke. She woke, her mind foggy, but her body still drained, her throat dry and sore. She tried to make a sound, but just as she did, a loud crash echoed from the door.

Then, Grayson's restrained voice reached her ears through the door.

"I told you not to appear in front of her, didn't I?"

Followed by Rita's soft, almost pleading tone, "But my baby wants to see his father, and I brought you a surprise. Do you want to see it?"

Then, the only sounds left outside were the rustling of clothes and the shallow breaths of two people.

"Why are you wearing clothes like that?"

Rita laughed, the sound soft and sweet, almost enough to make a person weak in the knees.

"Don't you like it?"

Her only answer was Grayson's heavier breathing.

Wendy could no longer bear to listen. Just as she was about to bury herself under the covers, the door suddenly swung open.

"It's cold outside, should we go inside?"

Wendy opened her eyes wide and looked at the reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window. There, in the faint light, she saw two tangled figures collapse onto the sofa at the foot of her bed.

The rain outside grew heavier, and through the glass, the sound of the downpour was almost deafening. The cold air from the window that hadn't been properly shut slipped inside, creeping into her bones, and with it, her heart grew colder.

...

After recovering from her illness, Wendy was weaker than before, the light in her eyes gone. Wrapped in a thick blanket, she curled up in the lounge chair, staring blankly at the scenery outside the window.

In stark contrast to her calm, Grayson beside her was filled with worry and panic.

Since Wendy had woken up, she had hardly eaten anything. No matter how he tried to coax her, she remained unmoved. He had tried spoon-feeding her porridge, but she remained in the same position, not even glancing at him.

Grayson was on edge. Tomorrow was the wedding, and she still looked listless.

His heart raced, and he tried to suppress the strange feeling gnawing at him. He kneeled in front of her, his voice laced with desperation.

"Wendy, please eat something. I know you can't eat because you're sick, but your health is more important. I'm so scared, with your fever like that. If anything else happens to you... I'll go crazy..."

Wendy's eyes flickered, a hint of mockery surfacing beneath her eyelids. The next moment, a tear slid down her cheek, tracing the curve of her face.

She instinctively reached up to wipe it away, but before she could, he beat her to it. His finger, trembling, gently wiped the moisture from her skin, as if afraid to disturb her further.

"Wendy, what's wrong? Don't scare me. If you're upset, just say it—don't keep it to yourself." His voice was filled with quiet desperation as he reached out to embrace her, but she turned her body slightly, avoiding his touch.

Finally, she allowed her gaze to settle on him, but the tone of her words was distant, detached.

"Grayson, take me to the beach."

His hand faltered, hovering in midair. He looked at her with surprise.

"Baby, you've always been afraid of water. You never liked the beach."

Wendy's response was cool, almost indifferent. "I suddenly want to see it."

After all, her death had been staged as a "suicide by drowning."

Without a word, Grayson turned and immediately instructed the butler to prepare the car.

The drive was quiet. He drove with one hand, the other tightly holding her hand. Unlike before, she didn't pull away. He glanced at her, sensing something softer in her demeanor, and a smile touched his lips.

He couldn't help but reminisce about the past, their once tender love.

There was a time when, as a child, she'd given him lemon candy with a bright smile. There was the first dance they'd shared in high school, her arm linked in his. Then, during their long-distance relationship, she'd flown for hours to see him.

"I always cherished you," he murmured, eyes full of affection. "And yet, you were the one who flew across the world just to be with me. I vowed then, I would never let you suffer, not even a little."

"Wendy," he said, pulling the car to a stop at the beach, his gaze filled with love. "I will always love you."

She smiled faintly, but the smile held an edge—almost bitter.

Lies, when spoken often enough, could fool even the liar himself.

They stood together, side by side on the sand, gazing at the still, quiet sea before them, the peace of the moment surrounding them.

Then, suddenly, his phone began to ring incessantly.

Without glancing at it, he immediately pressed the end button. But the calls kept coming, one after another, persistent, demanding attention.

Eventually, he looked at the screen, and with a sigh, he stepped aside to take the call.

Wendy couldn't hear what was said, but when he listened, Grayson's expression shifted slightly, his eyes darkening with a glimmer of desire.

Just then, Wendy received a text message from Rita.

Rita: [Wendy, even if you're getting married tomorrow, what does it matter? With one call, he'll come running to me. If you're smart, you should hand over the title of 'Mrs. Bryce' to me.]

This wasn't the first time Rita had pushed her out of the way, but it was the first time Wendy had replied.

Wendy: [Fine. As you wish.]

Just as she sent the message, Grayson, having hung up the phone, rushed back to her, his face wearing an apologetic expression. "Wendy, I'm sorry. There's an urgent matter at the company…"

Wendy's voice was calm but carried an unsettling weight. "Grayson, do you remember what I told you the day you proposed?"

His heart clenched.

"I told you, if you ever changed your mind about loving me, you should tell me, and I wouldn't bother you again. But if you lied to me, I'd leave you forever."

A cold smile touched her lips, but it never reached her eyes.

Grayson's hand tightened around the phone, his knuckles turning white. He remained silent for a long moment before, with a shaking hand, he gently ruffled her hair.

"Wendy," he murmured, "I love you so much. How could I ever lie to you?"

In that instant, the last remnants of love she had for him evaporated, vanishing without a trace.

Wendy laughed softly, but the sound was empty, hollow. "Aren't you supposed to be dealing with something at work? Go on, then."

His eyes locked onto hers, panic sweeping over him. He suddenly didn't want to leave. He was afraid that if he did, they would never see each other again.

But remembering the call he had just received, he relaxed his grip on the phone, his fear momentarily subdued. Wendy was right here—nothing could happen to her, not now. Besides, they were getting married tomorrow.

He let out a long breath. "Wendy, after you're done enjoying your time here, come back soon. I'll see you at the wedding tomorrow."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked quickly to the car, driving off without looking back.

Wendy stood on the beach, watching him disappear into the distance. She didn't try to stop him. She didn't plead for him to stay.

Ten minutes later, a car pulled up on the sand.

A man stepped out and approached her. "Ms. Hall, all your personal information in the country has been erased. New identification, a new phone, and tickets are all ready for you. From now on, no one will be able to find you."

She lowered her gaze, accepting the documents from him. Then, she handed over her phone.

"Tomorrow, deliver the fake body to the wedding venue. And this phone—make sure it's delivered to the groom, personally."

She wanted him to know how Rita had continuously provoked her these past days.

She wanted him to understand that because he lied to her time and again, choosing another woman over her, she had ended her life in the sea.

She wanted him to know that today was their last meeting.

For the rest of his life, he would feel the weight of that moment. He wanted his heart to shatter every time he recalled this memory.

After she had given her instructions, Wendy took the new identification and got into an unmarked car.

"Driver, take me to the airport."

As the car sped into the night, far in the distance, the first rays of golden dawn began to break across the horizon.