Halfway through the collaboration procedures, Giselle Bentley—my “iron-willed” childhood sweetheart—sent me a photo of her attempted suicide by slamming her head into a block of tofu.

She didn’t say a word. Just left.

Left me and ran off with that so-called childhood friendship of hers to get a marriage certificate and fly abroad for their honeymoon.

That very night, her new husband updated his social media feed—photo after photo littered with used condoms.

Then Giselle followed up with a message.

“Even though Davis Holmes and I are married now, he still doesn’t mind you being the third. You should learn from his generosity—stop being so ignorant.”

“I know you can’t live without me. When your father’s entire estate is legally transferred to me, I’ll make time to visit you—once a week.”

“Davis doesn’t want kids, so any children you might have in the future will be handed to him. After all, he’s the elder and you’re the junior. If you want to keep my heart, you better learn to be more understanding.”

I laughed.

As the only son of the head of one of the four great families in northern Chicago, whoever marries me gets a stake in a fortune most people can’t even dream of.

But what Giselle didn’t know was—

The moment she walked away, I had already changed the beneficiary on my marriage license.

——

One month later, I saw Giselle again at a private charity auction.

She was sitting on Davis’s lap, arms draped around his neck, kissing him like no one was watching.

The moment I walked in, the crowd's whispers turned into open mockery.

“Oh, Giselle—your little lapdog finally couldn’t stand being alone and came crawling back, huh?”

“Young Master Orson, breaking your endurance record this time. A whole month! You must’ve been going crazy without her!”

Giselle lifted her head from Davis’s neck, completely unfazed.

She raised an eyebrow at me with a smirk.

“Adam, have I been too soft on you? Do you even know what you are? Don’t come crying to me now. Even a lapdog should know its place. You’re pathetic.”

Five years of dating her—I’ve heard this kind of insult more times than I can count.

Back then, I loved her with my whole heart.

Even when she humiliated me in public, I’d swallow the shame, too scared to upset her.

I’d go home and reflect endlessly, like a dog begging for forgiveness.

Terrified she would stop loving me.

But now?

I simply said, calmly, “I’m not here for you.”

She blinked, stunned. Thought I was just putting on a show.

She kicked over the chair in front of me.

“Still playing hard to get? Stand up and listen well. If Davis wants something, you better bid like your life depends on it. If he’s happy, maybe—maybe—I’ll forgive you.”

“Giselle, enough.”

Davis tugged at her arm, sighing with faint annoyance.

“I don’t want him spending his dirty money buying things for me. Guys like him—second-gen rich kids who just flash cash from their parents—who knows if that money’s even clean. I want to earn everything with my own ability.”

Giselle stroked his face lovingly, smiling sweetly.

“Yes yes, my Davis is independent and capable. Unlike someone who only knows how to leech off his daddy’s fortune.”

“It’s Adam who insisted on buying it for me. You know how desperate he is. Let him waste his money—consider it charity.”

Davis laughed, clearly pleased, then turned his smug gaze toward me.

“Young Master Orson, seriously—you’re rich, but you cling like a damn leech. Be a man. Have some dignity. You live off women and act like a spineless shrimp.”

I glanced down at the custom-tailored suit worth millions draped over him and gave a faint smile.

A nanny’s son preaching about dignity and independence…

To me—the only heir to the wealthiest family in northern Chicago?

I walked to the corner of the hall and found a quiet spot to sit.

Giselle's expression stiffened slightly, her brows knitting in momentary confusion—something about me seemed different tonight. Before she could react, the people around her burst into laughter and teasing again.

“Tsk tsk, here we go again. Hiding in the corner pretending to be aloof. Without our Giselle, Mr. Orson wouldn’t even know how to breathe.”

“Still, you can't deny it—the Orson Family is the wealthiest in northern Chicago. Adam is the only son. I heard Adam is planning to host a huge birthday banquet for his 25th and has already handpicked potential brides from the other three major families. Whoever marries him gets a slice of the empire.”

“The Orson Family fortune starts at no less than a hundred billion. I wonder whose hands this heavenly inheritance will fall into?”

Someone winked and smirked.

“Do you even need to ask? Of course, it’ll be our dear Giselle. Everyone knows Adam loves her to the bone. If she told him to drop dead, he wouldn’t even be late for it. Look at this—he’s only been cold for a month and he’s already crawling back like a kicked puppy.”

“Haha, if licking dogs were a sport, he’d be champion. Once she marries into the Orson Family, all of northern Chicago will be the Bentley family’s playground. Giselle really knows how to play her cards—teach us your ways, Queen!”

Giselle acted as if she didn’t hear them, her expression indifferent, but the slight upward curve of her lips betrayed her pride. She raised her voice deliberately, making sure I could hear.

“Trash like that doesn’t even deserve to kiss Davis’s shadow. If he weren’t fun to toy with, I wouldn’t bother glancing his way.”

“He clung to me, begged to marry me and now I can’t shake him off. Honestly, it’s nauseating.”

She paused—waiting, expecting me to crumble.

In the past, I would have.

By now, my eyes would’ve reddened and I’d be kneeling in front of her like a fool, begging her not to leave. No pride. No dignity. Just raw desperation.

But this time?

I didn’t even glance her way. Not a flicker.

Giselle’s smile froze. Her face darkened. She took a step toward me—but Davis quickly pulled her back.

“Giselle, the auction’s starting. Don’t go.”

She had no choice but to sit back down in his arms.

The auction began. Davis seemed to like every item that came up.

Every time he sighed dramatically about not being able to afford something, he followed it up with a noble declaration—he’d work hard, earn his own money and buy it himself.

Giselle looked at his pitiful performance with pity and affection.

She raised her bidding paddle again and again, lighting up the sky lantern for every piece he so much as glanced at.

Each successful bid earned her a passionate French kiss from Davis.

I didn’t move—until the very last item was unveiled.

A jadeite bracelet.

Delicate. Pure. Understated elegance that glowed softly under the lights.

It reminded me of her—not Giselle, but the one I had chosen.

I lit the sky lantern and placed the bid. Just once.

It was the perfect gift to commemorate the license I’d changed.

I was about to leave, satisfied with the only item I came for, when Giselle suddenly called out to stop me.

She walked over with the auction organizer behind her, arms full of purchase receipts.

I frowned. “Something wrong?”

Giselle shoved the stack of auction slips into my hands, speaking with mock generosity.

“Don’t say I never gave you a chance. Pay for all these lots and maybe I’ll let you take me to dinner tonight.”

I flipped through the receipts—fifteen lots in total.

Davis had practically drooled over every item and Giselle had lit the lantern every time. Pieces that shouldn’t have cost over a hundred million were inflated through bidding wars, driving the total to nearly two and a half billion.

When I didn’t respond, Davis scoffed and jumped in self-righteously.

“Young Master Orson, men and women are equal. You’re Giselle’s boyfriend—she feeds you, clothes you, spends money on you—and you can’t even pay for a few gifts in return? You say you love her? Please. That’s not love, it’s hypocrisy and selfishness.”

Giselle, who had hesitated for a brief moment, seemed to be swayed by Davis’s self-righteous speech.

Her expression turned smug again as she lowered her voice and said to me, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Davis is my husband now. I’m giving you a chance to stay on good terms with us. If you make him unhappy, don’t even dream about being a side piece. Pay up, or don’t blame me for cutting you off completely.”

I stared at her, barely restraining a laugh.

All that so-called spending on her? The gifts, the luxuries?

They were nothing more than leftovers—crumbs.

Davis ate the rest of her food. Slept in the house my father bought for me. Lived off a life built by someone else’s money.

But because of one car crash, one twist of fate, the tables turned—and suddenly I was the outcast, the “stain” that had to be kicked aside.

Five years. I once thought she was the love of my life.

But the moment she left me at the licensing office, all that passion turned cold.

Now, standing here and looking at her again—there’s nothing left but disgust.

How could I have been so blind? So slow to see the truth?

I wasted five years on someone like this.

When I didn’t respond, Giselle grew impatient and snatched the jade bracelet from my hand.

Before I could stop her, she unwrapped it and slipped it onto her wrist.

“You gave it to me, didn’t you? Now that I’ve taken it, don’t play coy. If you keep acting like this, I will ignore you. And when you’re on your knees begging to give me five billion just to say a word to you—I won’t even look your way.”

Her friends jumped in, voices sharp with mockery.

“Adam, Giselle’s already given you more face than you deserve. Tone it down—playing the mysterious, brooding type is cute for a while, but you’re just coming off desperate.”

“Exactly. Two and a half billion is pocket change for someone like you and you’re still hesitating? That’s not a man. You should learn from Davis’s generosity. Every gift he gives Giselle, he earns with his own hands, penny by penny.”

My eyes fell on Giselle’s phone, where a cheap plastic egg-shaped charm dangled from the case—gaudy and childish.

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Very thoughtful. What did that cost—nine dollars and ninety-nine cents? Generous.”

Davis’s face flushed red. He looked like he’d been mortally insulted.

“I may not be rich like you, but everything I buy is with money I earned myself. I’m cleaner than you. You have no right to look down on me!”

Giselle quickly comforted him, then shot me a cold glare.

“Apologize to Davis!”

I laughed again, this time colder.

Shoving the stack of auction slips into Davis’s arms, I said.

“You’re clean. I’m dirty. Then go ahead—use your clean money to buy these gifts for your Giselle.”

Davis’s face turned deathly pale. His body trembled like he might collapse at any moment.

Giselle’s fury boiled over. She slapped me hard across the face.

“Adam! I gave you a chance! How dare you bully Davis like this?! On the day of your birthday banquet, even if you crawl to me and beg, I won’t agree to the union!”

She grabbed Davis’s arm and stormed out with him in tow.

In the past, words like those would’ve made me panic. I’d have dropped to my knees without hesitation, willing to do anything just to keep her from leaving.

But now? I felt nothing.

That slap? Consider it repayment for the time, five years ago, when she jumped between me and a kidnapper without hesitation.

We're even.

A few days later, I got a call from the watch store. The custom piece Sophia Jolie ordered for me had finally arrived.

But when I rushed over, I found Giselle there instead—wrapped tightly around Davis as she tried on my watch.

Their bodies were practically glued together. She looked up and spotted me entering.

With a smug sneer, she leaned into Davis and deliberately bit his ear.

He responded by kissing her neck, hard—leaving a dark red strawberry mark for everyone to see.