Chapter 4
Simon didn’t even have time to react before Lily Winters was already on the ground, clutching her head.
“Simon…“–
“It hurts… it really hurts.”
Someone called an ambulance. Simon gripped my hand tightly, insisting I stay at the hospital and keep watch.
“If anything happens to her, you’ll answer for it with your life!” he spat.
That day, I was forced to give Lily Winters my blood–again and again–until even the doctor said it was too much. Only then did Simon let me go, declaring I’d brought this on myself.
For days, I hid out in my father’s hospital room and refused to leave.
“Oh, so this is where you’re hiding, big sis! You know, thanks to that bump on the head you gave me, Simon is treating me better than ever now.”
She stared at my father lying in bed, her voice dripping with disdain. “Is this your dad? Why doesn’t he move?”
Lily, now Simon’s pampered darling, strutted around the room like she owned the place, every word and gesture oozing arrogance.
She started fiddling with my father’s oxygen tube, poking and prodding at it with childish curiosity. “What’s this thing for?”
“Don’t touch that!” I snapped, shoving her aside. She stumbled back, clutching her head as if deeply wounded.
The next moment, she lunged forward and ripped the oxygen tube from my father’s face. She grinned, twirling it in her hands as though it was a toy. “Do you think Simon will blame me for this?”
Right then, Simon walked in.
He froze at the scene, his gaze flickering between Lily and me. After a painfully long silence, he finally spoke.
‘She’s just a kid, doesn’t know any better. And your father… Well, with the state he’s in, maybe it’s better this way. Sooner’s probably for the best.”
‘I’ll just send your mom some extra money from now on.”
The steady beeping at my father’s bedside kept echoing, each tone marking his passing.
I stood there, numb. My grief was mixed with something else–relief. Because at least now, it
was over.
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Chapter 4
Simon didn’t spare me another glance. He just scooped Lily into his arms and left.
Collapsed on the floor, I could only whisper apologies to my father, over and over. But I was starting to wonder if anyone in this world had ever truly owed me kindness.
I pulled out a business card and made the call.
“Mr. Harrison, pick me up tonight.”
Another funeral. Another round of cremation.
This time, I left my father’s ashes in a memorial niche at the Hall of Remembrance.
When I returned to the Sterling estate, Simon was still out.
Those nine golden hairpins never stopped buzzing in my ear, warning that Simon was furious and I was doomed.
I ignored them, but they wouldn’t let up, pestering me about whether I really meant to get a divorce.
I didn’t answer. I just opened the door.
“Take your pick–all of this is yours now.”
The words had barely left my lips when everyone swarmed in, stripping the room bare in minutes.
All that remained were a few scattered photos of Simon and me from our youth, lying forgotten on the floor.
I locked myself in my room and didn’t come out, not even when night fell.
Simon had Zoe come to check on me. I only had her pass on my signed divorce agreement.
“Divorce again?”
“Haven’t you had enough, Vivian? This must be the hundredth time.”
Simon tore the document to pieces.
“Don’t feed her! She can eat when she’s done acting out.”
He thought my threats of divorce were just that–threats. He thought I was only pretending not to love him.
But love can run dry.
Ten years. I had nothing left to give.
Now I was alone. What was there left for me to hold on to?
That night, I climbed out the window and got into Leonard’s car.
The next morning, Simon came down for breakfast and was met with silence. The kitchen was
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Chapter
empty–no trace of my usual bustle, no little dumplings he liked, not even a cup of coffee made
by my hand. On the coat rack, his shirts weren’t pressed and waiting.
He rushed upstairs, flung open my bedroom door, and found it completely empty.
He stooped to pick up a few scattered photos, panic rising.
“Zoe! Where’s Vivian?!”
Zoe hurried over, skillet still in hand, and shook her head, bewildered. “I don’t know, sir.”
“I’ll call her mother.”
Zoe froze, then blurted out, “Sir, Vivian’s mother passed away. She was cremated the next day.”
Simon’s mind flashed back to the day he’d seen me holding an urn of ashes, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.
He knelt, gathering the old photographs with trembling hands. His eyes were vacant–drained of all life, leaving only a hollow shell behind.
Ten years, and he’d never once believed I would actually leave.
In the photo, we were barely out of college, posing on a street in Paris. Back then, we’d just started dating. He hadn’t even dared to put his arm around my shoulders.
But I’d noticed his awkwardness, so I leaned my head against his shoulder.
Carefully, he brushed the dust from the photo, trying to smooth out the creases. No matter how hard he tried, they wouldn’t fade.
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