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.

As if kissing him once wasn’t enough, Giselle clung to Davis’s waist and pulled him into another deep kiss, shamelessly ignoring the people around her.

When they finally parted, Davis shot me a smug glance, feigning embarrassment.

“Giselle, everyone’s watching… Let’s save the rest for when we get home.”

The sales clerks, clearly well-trained, averted their eyes and kept their heads down.

I said nothing, only pressing my lips together—partly from disgust, partly from a wave of physiological revulsion.

Giselle misread my silence, her eyes glinting with triumph. She lifted her chin and sneered.

“So you do know you’re in the wrong. Then come over here and kowtow to Davis. Apologize.”

Before I could respond, Davis let out a delighted gasp.

“Giselle! This watch is amazing—I love it! Quick, let me try it on.”

But the sales clerk shook her head with a polite smile.

“I’m sorry, sir. This watch was custom-made for Young Master Orson. It’s a limited-edition piece—one of a kind. I’m afraid it’s not available for you to try on.”

With practiced hands, she lifted the watch from its tray and carefully secured it around my wrist.

Davis’s eyes locked onto the piece with undisguised envy. His expression darkened, greedy and resentful.

His cheeks flushed with humiliation.

“Young Master Orson, you know full well that Giselle and I are getting married next week. Are you deliberately trying to embarrass me with this custom-made watch?”

Getting married in a week?

But Giselle knows exactly what’s happening in a week—my birthday banquet. The one where my father will personally officiate my wedding.

It was supposed to be with her.

The wedding of the son of the richest man in the North Capital—a spectacle everyone would watch.

I turned to Giselle. Her eyes flickered away as she offered a lame explanation.

“When the time comes, just say you’re sick. Let Davis stand in for you. Once it’s over, I’ll stay with you for a couple more days. Isn’t that enough for you?”

She said it like she was offering me a gift.

I stared at her, stunned by the absurdity of it all—and then laughed, full of disbelief.

I had never in my life met someone so shameless.

She wanted the son of a nanny to steal my identity, take my place at the altar, enjoy the glory of my wedding—while I, the real groom, faked an illness and disappeared?

And she had the audacity to think I’d agree to it?

Thank God I pulled the plug in time and changed the bride.

Giselle, seeing I wasn’t speaking, grew bolder. Her tone turned commanding.

“That watch looks ugly on you anyway. Take it off and give it to Davis.”

“No.” I scoffed, voice cold. “Giselle, where on earth did you get the idea that I’d definitely marry you?”

She froze for half a second, then burst out laughing like I’d just told the world’s funniest joke.

“Are you serious? Besides me, who else would ever marry a shameless, pathetic lapdog like you?”

Before I could answer, she reached out and yanked the watch off my wrist and forced it onto Davis.

But it didn’t fit. The watch had been designed to my exact specifications. Davis struggled to fasten it, digging the strap into his wrist until the skin turned red.

Finally, he gave up, his voice trembling with grievance.

“Young Master Orson, if you didn’t want to give it to me, you could’ve just said so. Why humiliate me like this?”

Furious, Giselle snatched the watch back, stormed into the restroom and with a loud splash, flushed it down the toilet—five times.

Then she walked out, holding Davis like a wounded puppy. As they passed me, she threw me a final glare.

“Davis can’t wear it and trash like you doesn’t deserve to either!”

The watch was gone.

I had no idea how I was going to explain this to Sophia.

Before I could even think of a solution, she called me herself—calm and reassuring.

“Don’t worry about it. I already had a second one made overseas. It’ll be delivered in time for your birthday banquet.”

I finally breathed easy.

Later, I stopped by the studio, planning to retrieve the wedding dress my mother had designed for me. A legacy.

But just as I walked through the doors, the receptionist looked up with a bright smile and said, “Mr. Adam, Miss Giselle is upstairs right now.”

I paused.

Over the last five years, almost everyone in my life had come to believe I was hopelessly obsessed with Giselle.

So obsessed, they thought, that even in my most sacred space—my work—she could come and go as she pleased.