But very quickly, anger replaced the look on his face.

"Nora, do you think I'm useless too? Do you think I'll never succeed, just like the rest of them?

"I knew it. I was wrong about you!"

After saying that, he stormed out and slammed the door.

I watched his back as he left and understood that he was trying to force me to compromise.

But I did not call him back. I even picked up my phone and blocked every way he could contact me.

Then I picked up the IOU. There was no borrower's name and no fingerprint.

It was fake at a glance, yet I had stupidly believed it twice.

I laughed at myself and called the property agent.

"Hello. Please help me sublet the flower shop on Central Street."

I had opened that flower shop to support Lucas.

Now that I no longer wanted him, there was no need to keep the shop running.

Besides, I was leaving.

The next morning, I stayed home to pack.

Looking around the small, dark rental, I realized there was almost nothing worth taking.

Birthday cards thrown away by bakeries, pretty stones picked up from the roadside, a ring folded out of paper.

Lucas had given these things to me as surprises.

But every time I opened one of those little surprises, he looked just as surprised as I did.

Now that I thought about it, those so-called gifts were probably things he had casually ordered someone to put together. He likely did not even know what was inside.

The only decent gift he had ever given me was a necklace he bought for $80 from a street stall after his first startup supposedly succeeded.

Back then, I thought he had wasted money and got angry with him for some time.

Lucas only looked at me with amusement.

He said I was silly. He asked what would happen if he really became rich one day and I still could not bear to spend money.

At the time, I thought he was being tender toward me.

Now, I knew he genuinely thought I was stupid.

In our endless chat history, Lucas had called me stupid 517 times.

When I ran across three streets to buy his favorite late-night snack, he said, "Why is Nora so stupid?"

When he had a fever and I put my only raincoat over him before carrying him to the hospital, he said, "She's so stupid it's almost funny."

Even when I lay in his arms and imagined our future together, he still wrote in the group, "Nora is stupid beyond saving. She's this poor and still dreams about a future with me."

Even through cold text, I could imagine the contempt and mockery on his face when he typed those words.

But it did not matter anymore.

From now on, Lucas Hart would no longer be part of Nora Bell's future.

I kept packing, but by the end, the large suitcase was still empty.

The trash can, however, was full.

I looked once more at the home I had lived in for two years.

The peeling walls stained with water marks, the chair with one broken leg, the bed made from bricks and wooden boards.

When things were a little better, I had thought about fixing up this home properly.

But Lucas refused every time.

He said once we had money, we would not live here anymore, so there was no point decorating.

I believed every promise he made, then guarded this broken-down home like a fool, waiting for those promises to come true.

Thinking of that, I suddenly felt it was all meaningless.

I closed my suitcase. The property agent called.

"Ms. Bell, I can't make the decision about subletting the flower shop. You'll need to speak to the landlord yourself."

At three that afternoon, I arrived on time at the office building where I was supposed to meet the agent.

In the ornate hallway, through a door left slightly open, I saw Lucas.

He was wearing a well-fitted suit, head lowered as he played with his phone.

Beside him, a well-dressed woman leaned intimately against his shoulder.

I recognized her almost immediately.

Two days ago, my flower shop had received an order for nine hundred ninety-nine roses.

Because the customer specifically requested that the thorns not be removed, my hands were covered in blood by the time I finished wrapping them.

When I personally took a cab to deliver them, the woman who received the flowers was this woman, Anne Chase.

In the center of the roses was a card the customer had requested.

"To the love of my life, Anne. From: L.H."

Only at that moment did I realize L.H. was Lucas Hart.

He knew very well that because I needed money, I would never turn down such a large order.

So he had made those demands on purpose, just to watch me run in circles for him.

The thought almost made me laugh through my tears.

After I got home that day, I had even excitedly told Lucas that I had earned a lot of money.

When he bandaged my injured hands with such concern, was he calling me stupid in his heart again? Was he thinking I looked like a joke?

As I wiped away the tears at the corners of my eyes, the agent arrived.

Seeing me standing at the door, he asked in confusion, "Ms. Bell, the landlord is inside. Why aren't you going in?"

I stared at him in shock, tears still in my eyes.

"Who did you say? The landlord? Lucas Hart?"

The agent looked even more confused.

"Yes. You didn't know? The entire Central Street belongs to Mr. Hart."

I looked at Lucas not far away, and the painful memory buried deep inside me surged up all at once.

After I helped Lucas repay his second debt, I spent a long time unable to make ends meet. I could not even pay the rent.

Four or five burly men crowded the entrance of the flower shop and forced me to pay.

They smashed every flower in the shop.

They even stepped on my cat, ignoring his cries as they pressed down harder.

That cat had been with me for twelve years. To me, he was no longer just a pet. He was family, as important as Lucas had been.

I sobbed and knelt on the floor, begging them to spare him.

In the three years I ran the shop, I had been forced for rent and protection money more times than I could count.

But I never told Lucas. I did not want to pressure him.

This time, I had been so afraid that I called him, crying so hard I could barely breathe.

I asked him, "Lucas, what should I do? Please save Milo. Save him..."

Lucas knew exactly how much that cat meant to me, yet after a long silence, he only said he was sorry.

I watched with my own eyes as those men trampled my cat to death.

I held him in my arms and felt him slowly grow cold and stiff.

Just like when my mother died in my arms, I was powerless.

Even then, I did not hate Lucas. I only hated my own uselessness.

But now, the truth lay before me.

The landlord who had forced me to pay rent was Lucas.

The person who could have saved Milo with one word was also Lucas.

But he did not save him, and Milo died.

I had to grit my teeth to keep a sob from escaping.

I ran out of the office building, hailed a cab, and told the driver to go to the airport.

In the car, my hands trembled as I called my father.

After twenty-seven years, the only person I could rely on now was the father I had once least wanted to acknowledge.

"Dad, can you come get me now? Please..."

At the same time, Lucas walked out of the office with Anne and his group of friends.

His head was lowered, his eyes fixed on the chat window between us.

For two whole days, I had not sent him a single message.

Irritated, he took out a cigarette, but when he remembered I disliked the smell of smoke on him, he put it away again.

One of his close friends slung an arm over his shoulder and looked at the dark screen with obvious amusement.

"What's wrong, Lucas? The girl can't pay this debt and doesn't want to play with you anymore?"

A flash of anger crossed Lucas's eyes. He shoved his friend's arm away.

"Who said that? Nora loves me so much. Maybe she's running around somewhere right now trying to scrape together money for me.

"Just wait. Once I leave her hanging for a few days, she'll definitely cough up the money."

As soon as he said that, the agent nearby heard my name and came over.

"Nora Bell? Mr. Hart, you know Ms. Bell? Perfect timing. She wants to sublet the flower shop, and I was worried you might not approve."

Lucas frowned. He vaguely felt that the uneasiness building inside him these past few days was about to find its answer.

He forced himself to stay calm and pretended to ask casually, "The flower shop is doing fine. Why would she sublet it?"

The agent smiled ingratiatingly, completely unaware of the weight of his words.

"Ms. Bell said she's tired of running the shop and is going home to get married."