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.

My eyelids twitched heavily at the thought of what might be happening.

I rushed upstairs—and the scene that greeted me made the blood in my body surge violently.

Davis stood in front of the mirror, wearing the wedding suit my mother had designed for me with her own hands. He was adjusting his collar, striking poses, his face full of smugness.

“Giselle, will I look handsome wearing this at our wedding?”

“Of course,” Giselle purred beside him. “Our Davis has such a good figure. In this suit, you’ll be the most handsome groom in the world.”

My mother had been an internationally renowned fashion designer. Before she passed away from illness, her only regret was not living long enough to see me get married.

So, despite her failing health, she insisted on designing and hand-sewing a wedding suit just for me.

It was her final gift. My last link to her.

During the two years Giselle and I were together, she’d often curl up in my arms, tracing the fabric with her fingers and whispering,

“When our Adam wears this suit, he’ll be the most handsome groom in the world.”

Now, those same words came from her mouth again—but for another man.

It felt like someone had slapped me. My head rang.

“Who gave you permission to touch my things?” I said, my voice razor-sharp. “Take off the suit.”

Giselle’s face darkened instantly.

“Adam, you already bullied Davis by snatching that wristwatch. Letting him have this suit is the least you can do to make up for it.”

“I said—take it off,” I repeated, each word colder than the last.

Giselle’s composure cracked.

“Enough, Adam! If you keep acting like this, I swear—even if you kneel and beg on the day of your birthday banquet, I won’t show up. And when that happens, you’ll be the one who loses face.”

“This is your last chance. Back off, or you’ll regret it.”

Davis, always the peacemaker when convenient, tugged at her arm.

“Forget it, Giselle. Since Young Master Orson doesn’t want to share, I’ll give it back.”

He disappeared into the dressing room and returned holding a mangled pile of fabric in his arms.

“Oops. My bad. Didn’t realize the quality was so cheap. Just tugged a little and it ripped right apart. Luckily, I don’t want it—who’d want to walk into a wedding venue wearing trash like this?”

He dropped the shredded remains of my mother’s final creation into my hands.

My heart twisted as I stared down at what used to be a piece of her love.

Giselle looked at me, her expression full of smug condescension.

“Since it’s ruined, forget it. It wasn’t worth much anyway. Now—get ready. In a week, transfer all of your father’s assets to me. Not a single cent should be left in your name. Once Davis and I get married, you can be my official little lover. I’ll give you three hundred a month to spend. Consider it my mercy.”

They turned and walked off together, laughing.

I stood motionless, my eyes cold.

A week from now… Let’s see if the two of you are still laughing.

The day of the banquet arrived.

My father had spared no expense, hosting the grandest birthday celebration the North Capital had seen in years. The other three major families attended. So did countless business partners and dignitaries.

The moment Giselle walked in, the crowd swarmed her with flattery.

“Miss Giselle looks destined for wealth. You and Young Master Orson are a perfect match.”

“From today on, you’ll be the top noble lady in the North Capital. Just remember us little folk—leave us some soup when you’re eating meat!”

Giselle beamed, her chin raised proudly as she basked in the praise.

Then I entered, dressed to the nines in an elegant suit. Her smile immediately faltered.

She rushed to me, hissing in a low voice.

“Why are you dressed like this? Aren’t you supposed to be sick? I brought sleeping pills for you—take two, no wait, take five. It won’t kill you, just knock you out for a couple of days.”

I didn’t even glance at her.

Her face darkened.

“Adam, if you dare ruin my wedding with Davis, I swear I’ll never look at you again.”

Just then, my father emerged from the study, a lawyer by his side. He looked at me with a warm smile.

“Adam, since you personally chose your bride, go ahead and announce it yourself.”

Giselle watched me walk toward her, a triumphant smile already blooming on her lips.

But in the next second, I stepped past her—without even a glance—and placed my hand on the shoulder of the woman standing behind her.

“Dad,” I said clearly, “the woman I choose for this marriage union… is Sophia.”