"Yes, Professor. I’ve decided to take your advice and continue studying fashion design in Paris after graduation."

I leaned back in my chair, finally agreeing to what I once resisted.

My grandfather's will bound me to marry a Velasco. So, on my 20th birthday, I got engaged to Adrian Velasco—two years older and my schoolmate, instead of Diego Velasco, his uncle, who was seven years older and known to be very cold, even to women.

After the engagement, I moved into his villa, where he filled the walls with a hundred photos from our childhood to our engagement, “for our children to remember.”

When he became CEO of Velasco Group, he even launched a designer bag named ‘L13,’ as a gift for my 22nd birthday—on the 13th. I believed his love was real.

Tonight marked our second anniversary. A week ago, I found out I was pregnant and planned to surprise him.

But everything shattered when I walked into my OB-GYN appointment and saw Louisa Moreno, Adrian’s secretary, proudly flaunting her pregnancy. “It’s Adrian’s,” she smiled, adding they were off to Ibiza with his friends to celebrate.

Then came the knife—she shared my birthday. She was the real inspiration behind the L13 bag.

My name is Elena, but Adrian always called me Lena. Everything, it turned out, had always been for Louisa.

I did not get the ultrasound that day. I made a promise instead: to terminate.

When I confronted him about our anniversary, he said, “We can celebrate our anniversary anytime after we get married. But I rarely get to see my friends. Please, understand, just this once.”

Understand. The word that always followed betrayal.

If he thought I would stay and understand again, he was wrong. I was no longer Elena, the girl who loved blindly and forgave too much.

In ten days, I terminated the pregnancy, completed my fashion degree, and burnt all 100 photos before leaving for Paris. Let him marry his new bitch.

***

“You're really a bastard, Adrian,” I whispered as the edges of the photo blackened and curled inward.

I still remembered the day he said, “And if one day I ever disappoint you—burn them, one by one. When the last photo turns to ash, leave me. It means I’ve become nothing more than a bastard who doesn’t deserve you.

“But I promise, mi amor, I will never let it come to that. I will never hurt you that deeply. I can’t afford to lose you.”

But the one I burned was number 96. The reason: he traveled to Ibiza on the day that was supposed to be our two-year anniversary dinner.

Adrian dared to disappoint me who knew him since diapers instead of his friends and his new secretary, Louisa.

Morning after that heartbreak night, I immediately accepted my professor's offer a few days ago: a prestigious graduate program in Paris.

After hanging up the call, a voice message from Louisa came.

“You two, stop kissing or your lips will get swollen, haha!” a female voice teased.

Then a chuckle. “Let it be already, let it be. She’s way more fun than Elena after all.”

Another voice chimed in, “Well, Elena’s too stiff, right? The fiancée who still acts like a schoolgirl. No wonder he switched.”

Then a buzz came again.

[Louisa: Oops, sorry, my phone accidentally recorded a voice-note and sent it to you. Don't take it to heart, Elena. They were just joking.]

Accidentally? Please.

Louisa Moreno would never have been accidentally sending me things, since she had done it for the past year.

One day, she would happily send me a photo of Adrian, dead asleep, head resting on her lap in his office, saying he was too tired after meeting and found solace on her.

Then the photo where Adrian bought her a Cartier bracelet, as if she were the girlfriend, not me, the fiancée.

There was also the time she messaged, [Don’t worry, I took care of him.] after Adrian stayed the night at her apartment because he was too drunk from a client dinner.

Each one chipped away at me. And each time, I took a photo off the wall and watched it curl into ash.

My phone buzzed again. [Louisa: Hey, are you mad? Come on! You should already know, right? You may be his fiancée, but I’m the one he loves in his bed.]

Attached below was a photo of them.

Adrian shirtless, one arm wrapped around Louisa, who lay against his chest, smirking at the camera.

I did not cry, but simply stood up, plucked the 97th photo from the bottom row, and burned it.

Before the photo was completely burned, I came to the appointment in the clinic I made yesterday and terminated the fetus. The doctor repeatedly asked about my decision, after all he knew it was Velasco’s heir, but in the end we still did it.

The doctor suggested that I should stay at least a day, so I stayed and took a rest, asking him not to tell my family nor the Velasco family.

The next day, I came back to the villa and directly went to the study room, continued preparing my graduation exhibition pieces.

I slapped both my cheeks lightly with my palms and muttered, “You promised not to depend on that boy again. Since everything is broken into pieces, let’s fly high on your own hard work.”

I stayed up several nights to remodel each piece, since it had its own story.

From the very first dress I ever made as a child, to the very one I submitted when applying for university, and also a crimson gown that I originally made for Adrian’s graduation party.

I ignored every buzz in my phone for days and only focused on the dresses.

As many nights passed, I finally completed every piece in the morning of the exhibition.

Sergio Duarte, my older brother, called me through the phone, “Elena, we will arrive at your campus in a minute.”

I smiled, warmth blooming in my chest. “Okay, I’m on my way.”

The morning had started with enthusiasm, but as I stepped out of my room, I stopped dead in my tracks.

In the kitchen, the most disgusting sight I could have imagined fell to my eyes.

Adrian and Louisa were cooking together like a happily married couple, I didn't even know when they had returned from Ibiza.

Louisa noticed me first. “Oh, Elena, you finally come out!”

Adrian looked up and said, “Come and eat first. I deliberately came back this morning to give you a surprise. Are you surprised?”

I smiled faintly. “Not really. But sorry, I’m not hungry. I’ll just….”

“Ow!” Louisa suddenly yelped dramatically, cutting me off.

She dramatically cut her fingers, what shocked me, Adrian put her bleeding finger into his mouth to stop the blood without hesitation.

“Sorry, I am so shocked to hear Elena didn’t want to eat,” Louisa whimpered, her eyes shining with false tears.

Adrian turned sharply toward me, frowning. “Lena, look! For you, Louisa even hurt herself. At least eat a little to appreciate the one who cooked.”

I felt like a child being scolded by her parents for not finishing dinner. It was humiliating.

“Sit!” Adrian ordered me again.

I bit my tongue and walked to the table, plopping down with restrained fury. I picked up the spoon and dipped it into the soup.

Adrian nodded and turned to Louisa. “I’ll get a plaster.”

The moment he disappeared, Louisa’s entire expression shifted. “Is the soup good?” she asked.

“So salty,” I said without looking at her, “like my feelings.”

She leaned her elbow on the counter, eyes sparkling with cruelty. “Hopefully it doesn’t hurt your stomach.”

I froze, then I choked, trying to spit out the poison she gave.

Damn it, she tried to make me sick before my exhibition!

But then, Louisa let out a chuckle. “Calm down, I was just kidding. You’re really easy to fool.”

I slammed my palm hard on the table. “I shouldn’t have eaten!” I snapped, standing abruptly and grabbing my bag without another word.

As Adrian came back, he was confused to see me disappear.

Louisa put on her perfect pout and explained, “She said my food wasn’t tasty and that it gave her a stomach ache. Then she got angry and stormed off.”

“She really needs to be scolded,” he muttered, already stepping forward.

But Louisa gently caught his arm. “No need, Adrian. Don’t ruin her mood before the exhibition. You better have breakfast too and get ready to go there.”

“And,” she added, “the building owner said the water in my apartment has been fixed, so I’ll go back first. Thanks for letting me stay over.”

Adrian exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing at her calm. “Okay, then. Go back and prepare yourself, I’ll pick you up at your apartment later.”

“Come to Elena’s exhibition with me,” he added, “Elena has to apologize to you.”

Louisa smiled. “Okay. Then I’ll wait for you to come.”

Without Adrian knowing, I had made my decision. When I came back from my exhibition, I would burn the 98th photo.

My morning had already been ruined, but still, when I put my pieces backstage, I immediately walked up to my family, kissed my mother’s cheek, accepted my father’s warm hug, and posed for a few family pictures.

But as I headed backstage to prepare for the exhibition, I noticed something strange. The key of my locker was broken and pieces of fabric ripped and slashed.

Gasps echoed behind me as my classmates gathered since it was only my locker that was broken.

Without a word, I turned and marched straight to the security office, fury boiling beneath my skin.

The security officer reviewed the footage. Then, there it was, Louisa.

She entered among the bustle, blending with the crowd an hour ago, while everyone was outside greeting their families, and pulled out a cutter to ruin my pieces proudly.

“That bitch!” I hissed, eyes burning with rage.

I copied the surveillance footage to my phone, since justice should be served. But I would confront her later, since I should think about the solution first.

I walked briskly toward the parking lot to get the backup piece I had—thank God—prepared.

But as fate would have it, Adrian and Louisa stepped out of the car like nothing had happened.

Without thinking twice, I stormed toward them, reached out and grabbed Louisa’s glossy curls, yanking them so hard a fistful came off in my hand.

“Aghh!” she shrieked as she stumbled backward, losing balance on her ridiculous high heels and crashing to the ground, knees slamming against the pavement.

“Elena!” Adrian finally shouted. “What the hell’s gotten into you?!”

“You want to know what’s gotten into me?” I snapped, unlocking my phone. “This.”

I shoved the screen toward him, the footage playing clearly.

“I found my locker destroyed. My pieces are ruined. And look who shows up on the security cam,” I hissed.

But Adrian—he did not even glance at the phone. Instead, he narrowed his eyes and muttered, “Lena, we just got here. How could she ruin your exhibition?

“You just don’t like her, so you’re trying to pin everything on her. You should be apologizing to her—for this morning, and now this.”

He scooped Louisa and carried her before adding, “You made me angry, Lena. I won’t watch your exhibition. I won’t attend your graduation.”

That cold, dismissive, and sharp tone was the only tone he once used to cut down people who bullied me. But that time, he used it against me.

As they reached the car, my phone buzzed.

A message from her. [Louisa: Good luck, loser.]

I turned sharply on my heels and whispered a promise to myself, ‘I’ll definitely burn the 98th and 99th photo when I get back to the apartment later.’

Fortunately, despite everything, my exhibition was a success.

Later that evening, I returned to Duarte Manor, the place that always embraced every time I fought with Adrian in the past.

After dinner, I finally spoke to them about my decision to study in Paris. My parents were hesitant—not because they did not want me to grow, but because they, too, had waited for the wedding.

But Sergio smiled and leaned back in his chair. “Mom, Dad, Elena is still young. Let her be happy for now. Besides, why rush to get married? Elena will get married eventually—it’s just that the timing is different.”

He winked at me. As a result, my parents finally nodded, though concern lingered in their eyes.

I did not tell them everything—not yet. I just did not want to create unnecessary drama between our families. Not until I had the right moment to speak.

***

A day before I left Spain, I drove to the villa with purpose, to pack everything, take what was mine, and leave no piece of myself behind. After all, I had not burned the 98th and 99th yet.

After emptying my room, I passed the room where all the 100 photos should hang on the wall. But since I burned most of them, leaving only one—our engagement photo, the 100th photo.

I walked inside, stared at it for a moment, and murmured to myself bitterly, "Let’s see, how long you’ll be displayed there."

Then I came out since I wanted to go pack my things in another room.

However, as I just closed the door, Adrian, who should be in the office, showed up in front of me, making me stumble in shock.

He caught me instinctively, one hand on my waist, the other steadying my arm.

“Did I surprise you?” he asked, smiling softly and tapped the tip of my nose with his index finger.

I immediately pulled away, shrugging him off and stepping back.

“Is the tantrum over, mi amor?” he said with a chuckle, slipping back into his old pet name for me. Whether it was because he was in a good mood or just trying to disarm me, I could not tell.

I rolled my eyes and muttered, “It’s never my fault.”

I turned and headed to the study, not waiting for his reply. But he followed me, so I snapped, “What are you doing following me?”

“I came back because I wanted to get the files I left in the study,” he said casually, flashing that crooked smile that used to make me melt.

But that time? It just made me nauseous.

His smile brought back the memory of Louisa walking into this very room for the first time.

It was just a week after she had started working at Velasco Corporation. Adrian had hired her as his personal secretary.

At the time, I did not think much of it. Secretaries came and went, and Adrian barely spoke about work at home.

But as I was still designing a new spring collection in study, the door clicked open, showing a woman in heels.

“Who are you?” I asked, standing from my chair.

“Oh, sorry. I thought the study was empty. I’m Louisa Moreno, Adrian’s secretary. He asked me to pick up the meeting files from the study.”

“Adrian?” I repeated, brows knitting. “You call him by his name?”

“Yes. Adrian asked me to. He said I’m a special person to him. So, there’s no need to be too formal.”

Special?

Before I could process the sting, she tilted her head and asked, “Oh, then… who are you?”

“I’m Elena Duarte. His fiancée.”

I thought the words would draw the line and she would understand her place.

But instead, she giggled, “Ah, it’s you! Nice to meet you. I hope since we both are Adrian's women, we can get along quickly, Ms. Duarte.”

Adrian’s… women?

She extended her hand for a handshake, but I just stared at it for half a second before slapped it away.

“Bitch,” I snapped.

Louisa blew on the back of her hand, her face darkened, and said mockingly, “Remember this. You were the first to raise the war flag. So don’t cry like a child when you lose to me later.”

She then snatched the folder of files in Adrian's work table casually and walked out, leaving only her cheap perfume scent.

But no one knew except me if that moment marked the start of I burnt the photo. So, of course, I sneered at him that day, “Oh, you don’t send your secretary to fetch things for you anymore?”

“Louisa is unhealthy,” he said suddenly, voice a little lower. “She said she’s been vomiting all day. I am thinking of stopping by, I am afraid something might happen to her.”

The words stabbed deeper than I expected.

“Oh.” My voice was barely audible, since it meant Adrian wanted to take care of pregnant Louisa, how sick!

But suddenly, Adrian hugged me from behind and his chin rested lightly on my shoulder.

“Lena…” he whispered, “I miss you. I haven’t bothered you for the past two days, right?”

He continued softly, “Louisa also said she’s forgiven you… so please let it slide.”

My expression darkened and just answered, “Fine, just think of it all as over.”

‘Like our relationship,’ I continued in my heart.

He leaned in close and murmured, “I need you, mi amor.”

His voice low, seductive—before pressing a kiss to my nape, and without waiting, he kissed my lips.

I did not pull away because it happened so fast. But when I felt his hand on my shirt, fingers moving to unfasten the top button, I pushed him away firmly.

“Stop,” I said quickly, lying. “I’m on my period.”

His hands dropped immediately. A flicker of frustration crossed his face before he tried to play it off.

“Okay. I’ll wait patiently.” Then he kissed my cheek and said casually, “Tonight’s my grandpa’s 75th birthday. So, come with me, okay?

“As promised, no matter how much we fight, we’ll still act at the family events, right?”

I smiled politely. But inside, I sneered, ‘Oh? So, all of this is just acting?’

But I simply nodded. “Sure.”

Considered it my final performance, before I left everything behind.

After Adrian left, I packed the rest of my belongings into the car and drove back to Duarte Manor.

I just returned to the apartment before Adrian came back from the office and that night, we left for the banquet.

But when we reached the basement parking lot, he suddenly slapped his forehead.

“Shoot, I forgot the wine I was bringing for Grandpa. Wait here, I’ll go get it,” he said, already halfway out of the car before I could respond.

I nodded, saying nothing. But then, my heel stepped on something soft. I reached down, confused—and then froze.

Black lace thong.

I immediately reached for the dashboard and tapped through the most recent footage. The timestamp showed it was only a few hours ago. Right after I had rejected him in the apartment.

“So, this was his idea of patience. Disgusting!”

When Adrian came rushing out of the elevator toward the car, I instinctively stuffed the black lace thong into my bag.

“Sigh, Grandpa will be disappointed if I forget the gift,” Adrian mumbled as he slid into the driver's seat and immediately reached over to buckle my seatbelt, like he always did.

“You’re always careless,” he chided playfully. “You sit in the car forever but still forget to put your seatbelt on. What would happen to you without me, huh?”

I forced a smile, voice flat as I replied, “Right. What can I do without you, Adrian?”

He chuckled. “If you hadn’t done your makeup, I would’ve kissed you ten times already until you got upset.”

I turned my face to the window, fighting back a gag. All I could think about was Louisa’s glossed lips on his skin, so no way I would let him kiss me again.

When we arrived at the Velasco estate lobby, Louisa immediately greeted us, “Adrian, why are you so late? I’m almost freezing here.”

“Sorry, I forgot the gift earlier, so I came back,” Adrian said quickly, glancing at her, then remembered his mask. “Louisa, call me formally at the event, I’ve taught you.”

“Ah, right, I forgot. Apologize, Mr. Velasco,” she said with a forced chuckle, lowering her eyes.

Which secretary ‘forgot’ to call her boss properly at a public event? Only Louisa.

Adrian smiled and for a second, his hand instinctively moved toward Louisa’s waist. But then, as if remembering where he was, he extended his other arm and placed it around my waist instead.

‘Muscle memory never lies,’ I thought bitterly. I wondered how many banquets they had gone to without me.

As if the surprise was not enough, when Louisa removed her long beige coat, I saw her proudly wearing a dress that I had designed for my wedding night dinner party.

“Where did you find that dress, bitch?” I snapped angrily.