She Left Without Hate, But He Lived With Regret

"Comrade Vivienne Devereux, the organization has assigned you to a classified research mission. Your identity will be erased, and you’ll live under a new name. Are you sure you don’t need more time to reconsider?"

Vivienne lowered her gaze, slipping a hand into her pocket. Her fingers tightened around her phone as it buzzed relentlessly.

She didn’t need to check to know who it was.

Taking a deep breath, she looked up and nodded.

"No need to reconsider."

"I’ve dedicated years to this. This is what I’ve worked for and been waiting for. I’m willing to serve my country; nothing else matters."

"But there are rumors… about your engagement to Rafael—"

Vivienne cut them off with a calm shake of her head. "Baseless gossip. It never happened."

"If that’s your final decision, then prepare yourself. As a secret researcher, your identity and household records will be erased. From this moment on, Vivienne will no longer exist in this world."

As she walked home, her superior’s words echoed in her mind.

She was finally about to gain her freedom.

She told herself she should be happy. She should feel relief.

Yet, as her fingers hovered over the lock, the sharp, breathless sounds from inside made her pause.

Vivienne unlocked her phone, scrolling through dozens of unread messages.

The surveillance footage flickered to life, her fiancé, Rafael, tangled in Freya Ludwig’s embrace, their bodies pressed together in shameless indulgence.

On Rafael’s left middle finger glinted the ring she had given him when she turned eighteen, bought with her first hardearned paycheck.

She had always known about Freya.

But this was the first time he had brought her into their home, to their bed.

"Brother, this ring is in the way. Can I take it off?"

Freya’s voice dripped with saccharine sweetness, her pout feigned innocence.

Before Rafael could answer, she reached up, fingers grazing the band.

A slow, disdainful smirk curled at his lips.

"Freya, your hands were made for playing the piano. You shouldn’t have to touch trash like this."

With a flick of his fingers, he ripped off the ring himself and tossed it aside as if even its presence disgusted him.

"Brother, you’re so good to me," Freya cooed, climbing onto his lap, her arms looping around his neck.

"Come on, let’s continue."

Rafael pushed her beneath him, their bodies melting into one, the sight searing into Vivienne’s vision.

There were countless videos. But in the end, she didn’t have the courage to watch them all.

The last message was a voice recording.

"Sister Vivienne, I’m at home with Brother. Don’t come back just yet, okay? If you interrupt us, Brother will get mad."

Rafael’s impatient voice cut through in the background.

"Why are you even bothering with her? Come here."

The moans inside the house grew louder, shameless, and unrestrained.

But this time, Vivienne felt nothing.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, staring at the locked door, her fingers icecold against the fingerprint scanner.

Then, the villa door creaked open.

Freya stepped out, draped in nothing but a slip dress, her skin stained with fresh, crimson love marks.

She met Vivienne’s gaze, a slow smirk curling at her lips.

"Oh, it’s you, Sister. Didn’t I tell you not to come back?" She tilted her head, feigning concern before her voice dipped into mockery.

"What are you doing here?" Her eyes gleamed with cruel amusement. "Setting yourself up for pain?"

From inside, Rafael’s indifferent voice rang out.

"Since she’s here, have her go buy some. You must be tired. Go lie down and rest."

Freya hummed in agreement, then turned to Vivienne with a saccharine smile.

"Sister, we ran out of condoms. Could you buy us two more boxes?"

Vivienne’s mind buzzed, her ears ringing.

The disheveled sofa, the tangled sheets, the unmistakable scent of betrayal, each detail cut into her like a blade.

Slowly, she turned, locking eyes with Rafael.

He sat there lazily, his shirt askew, his expression unreadable.

"If you hate me so much, why did you marry me?"

Rafael’s lips curled into a smirk, cold and merciless.

"I married you to torment you, obviously. What, did you think it was out of love?"

He leaned forward, voice laced with mockery.

"You’re the pathetic one here. Otherwise, why did you agree to marry me?"

He stood, closing the space between them in a single stride.

The warmth she once knew in his gaze had long turned to ice, a cruel stranger replacing the boy she had once loved.

Back in their youth, their love had burned recklessly, lighting up the entire school.

Never had she imagined they would go from breathless confessions to venomous enemies.

His fingers clamped around her chin, yanking her back to the present.

A sharp sting shot through her jaw, but the pain was nothing compared to the words that followed.

"Did you forget?"

"Your mother’s ashes are still with me."

"If you dare go back on your word, I’ll scatter them immediately."

A sharp crack echoed through the room.

Vivienne struck with full force, her palm colliding against Rafael’s cheek. His head jerked to the side from the impact.

She had long accepted that he despised her. He could humiliate her, trample on her dignity, but there was one line he could never cross: her mother.

Her body trembled with fury; hands clenched into fists as she spat through gritted teeth, "Rafael, even killers have their limits. If you want my life, take it, but my mother? You are not allowed to speak a single word about her!"

Her eyes burned red, veins surfacing beneath the whites. Her mother had been Rafael’s father's trusted secretary.

She had met Rafael at seventeen. He was sixteen.

Back then, they were just high schoolers. She was a year ahead, and he trailed behind her like a shadow, calling her “sister” over and over again.

Vivienne had always been delicate, a quiet beauty who often received love letters from admirers.

Rafael had torn them all apart.

From that day forward, he never left her side. Even when she moved on to university, he followed.

For a time, their love had been untouchable, sweet, and reckless.

But happiness never lasted long.

Rafael’s mother died in a fire. A raging inferno had swallowed their home whole, reducing everything to ash.

His mother never made it out alive. Neither did hers.

But the most bewildering part was that, in her final moments, Vivienne's mother had thrown herself into the flames to save Rafael’s father.

The case was cloaked in mystery, tangled in rumors the media hungrily devoured. They claimed Vivienne’s mother had been Rafael’s father’s mistress, caught in a scandalous affair by his mother. Consumed by rage and humiliation, she had allegedly set the house ablaze, dragging them all into a tragic inferno.

Vivienne would never forget that night. The way Rafael had crumbled before her, his agony raw and unrestrained, his bloodshot eyes filled with a torment that cut straight to the soul.

He had stared at her in devastation while she, drowning in her own grief, had sobbed until her body could no longer take it, collapsing into unconsciousness over and over.

"Vivienne, I hate you."

"I will make you pay for this!"

He had caged her in his world, stripping her of any chance to grieve. Not even her mother’s funeral had been hers to arrange.

By the time he had let her go a week later, it had been too late; her mother’s ashes were already gone, taken by Rafael’s hands.

He had used them as a chain, locking her to him forever.

To suffer. To endure. To make amends for his mother’s death for the rest of her life.

To outsiders, despite the scandal that had tarnished the Moretti name, Rafael never abandoned Vivienne. Their love was seen as tragic yet unwavering, a story so moving that even the heavens seemed to mourn for them.

But only Vivienne knew the truth; these past years, she had lived worse than a stray dog.

Still, this torment, this humiliation, would all come to an end soon, wouldn't it?

Rafael hadn't expected the slap. By the time the sting registered, she had already turned on her heel, walking straight out of the villa.

The sky shifted in an instant, dark clouds gathering as the wind roared through the streets.

Vivienne pulled her coat tighter and braced against the cold.

A sharp gust sent a grain of sand into her eye, making her stop in her tracks. She rubbed at it with her fingers, but the sting only worsened.

And just like that, a memory surfaced.

A spring long ago. The wind had been just as cruel, the sand just as relentless.

That time, Rafael had lifted her face with the gentlest touch, carefully parting her eyelid.

Then, he had softly blown into her eye.

"It's okay, Vivienne. Don't be scared."

The warmth of that moment faded into the cold of the present.

Vivienne stopped in front of a hotel. She had no desire to go home. Tonight, this place would do

Not a single message came from Rafael.

Not a word of concern.

Instead, her phone lit up with an unexpected call.

Freya, seizing the chance while Rafael wasn’t paying attention, had dialed her, and all night long, Vivienne was forced to listen to gasps and moans that made her stomach turn.

Vivienne closed her eyes, her expression shifting, pain dulling into emptiness, sorrow fading into cold numbness.

They had been entangled the entire night.

Even in the haze of exhaustion, those sickly, sweet murmurs still echoed in her ears.

"Sis, you smell so good."

"Then promise me... in the future, give me all the love that used to belong to Vivienne, okay?”

And then Rafael’s voice, low, indifferent, cutting through her like a blade.

"Vivienne? She's not worthy of my love."

A shiver crawled up her spine.

She yanked the blanket over her head, burying herself beneath the covers. Tears fell, silent and endless, soaking into the sheets.

Over and over, she told herself, "This is the last time, Vivienne. The last time, you'll shed tears for him. The last time you'll let him hurt you."

She didn't sleep. Not even for a second.

Morning came, cold and indifferent.

Her phone rang. A call from her superior. "Vivienne, we’ve reviewed your case. Within this week, you need to cancel your ID and household registration. After that, we’ll assign you a new identity."

"Remember, this must remain confidential. You can’t breathe a word of this to anyone. Not even your closest ones. Understand?"

Vivienne bit her lip, gripping the phone tighter. "Understood. Don’t worry, sir."

Vivienne hung up, only then realizing the sharp sting on her lip. She had bitten down so hard it was nearly bleeding.

Her phone vibrated again. Several times. A message from Rafael. [Come back. The bedroom is a mess. Clean it up.]

Cold. Commanding. As if she were nothing more than a lowly servant in his house or, worse, a disposable maid.

She refused to show even a flicker of pain. With an empty expression, she returned home, stepping into the wreckage of the night before.

Crumpled sheets. Clothes strewn across the floor. Used condoms littering the carpet.

Rafael smirked, lifting his chin, eyes gleaming with satisfaction at the chaos he had created. His "masterpiece."

"Hurry up."

Disgust coiled in her stomach.

Vivienne met his gaze, her voice as cold as the morning air. "Okay."

Without another word, she lowered her head and bent down to clean.

The moment she moved, Rafael lunged. Like a madman, he seized her wrist and shoved her back with force.

"Are you insane, Vivienne?!" he bellowed.

"Why are you so indifferent?! Why don’t you feel jealous at all?!"

"We were together the whole night! And you don’t care?! Not even a little?!"

"You never loved me. You never loved me at all!"

"You’re just like your despicable mother; you only wanted to take advantage of my family!"

A sudden rush of blood pounded in her head. Her vision blurred with rage.

"Shut up!"

Vivienne’s voice tore through the air, sharp and thunderous, veins bulging at her temples.

Then, just as quickly, she regained her composure.

A slow breath. A calm gaze. The storm in her heart extinguished into nothingness.

"Didn't you already know? I never loved you."

Rafael panted heavily, his chest rising and falling in sharp, ragged motions. His gaze locked onto hers, searching, probing, only to be met with a cold, merciless indifference.

"Listen, Vivienne. Even if you marry me, you will never get a single penny from my family. You can play the role of Mrs. Moretti in public but behind closed doors? You'll bow and scrape like a servant."

“You will serve me and my lover, do you hear me?"

"You carry the blood debt of my family," he continued, his voice sharper than a blade. "And I will make you make amends for it for the rest of your life."

Vivienne only nodded, the corners of her lips curling slightly in something between understanding and exhaustion.

He had repeated these words to her thousands of times.

At first, they had cut deep, grievance, heartbreak, a suffocating ache.

But now?

Now, she felt nothing.

"It doesn’t matter," she said as if discussing something as trivial as the weather.

"Do whatever you want. It's not like I'll lose a single strand of hair or a piece of flesh."

Rafael’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together, his fury simmering just beneath the surface.

His fists clenched so tightly that his arms trembled, veins bulging beneath his skin.

But in the end, the fury that surged through him found a different target. He swung his raised fist and drove it into the wardrobe beside him.

A deafening crack.

The wardrobe door rattled violently, teetering on the brink of collapse.

Rafael snatched his clothes from the sofa and yanked Freya into his arms. She flinched like a startled kitten, her body stiff with fear.

"We’re leaving." His voice was cold, dismissive.

"Don’t let this disgusting woman stain your eyes."

The door slammed shut behind him, sealing the room in suffocating silence.

Vivienne slowly closed her eyes.

She didn’t touch the mess, didn’t bother picking up the remnants of his cruelty. Instead, she walked past the wreckage, her steps eerily calm, and entered the walkin closet.

With careful hands, she reached for a small book tucked away in the corner. Her household registration book.

She flipped it open, her gaze landing on the first page, staring at the words as if engraving them into her memory.

Soon, this book would be meaningless. Soon, Vivienne Devereux herself would cease to exist.

As she slipped the household registration book into her pocket, ready to leave, Vivienne’s gaze caught on a small box tucked away at the bottom of the cabinet.

She hesitated.

For a moment, she simply stared as if the box itself carried a weight too heavy to bear. Then, almost against her will, she reached out and picked it up.

Inside lay a photograph, a diamond ring, and a delicate diamond pendant.

The photograph was from her graduation, the day Rafael had rushed to her side, insisting on taking a picture together. His smile back then had been carefree, eyes alight with something that almost felt like love.

The diamond ring nestled beside it was also his gift. She could still hear his voice, teasing yet earnest, “Sister, this ring is our token of love. It may be small, but my feelings for you are priceless! When I marry you in the future, you’re not allowed to back out!”

Meanwhile, the pendant, a treasured keepsake, was once gifted by Maximilian Moretti, his father.

“This diamond pendant has been passed down in our family for generations. Now that you and Rafael are so in sync, it’s only a matter of time before you marry. I’m giving it to you, hoping you two will grow old together. Vivienne, don’t think it’s too small.”

She lifted the pendant, letting the dim light catch its translucent surface. A vivid green streak ran through its center, glowing like a vein of life within the stone.

It was beautiful.

She had once loved it.

She had never been eager to wear it, tucking it away in this box alongside other cherished belongings.

Beyond that, the walkin closet was lined with remnants of Rafael’s past affection, luxurious brandname handbags, exquisite dresses, and tokens of a love that once existed. But as she stood there now, she realized it had been a long, long time since he had given her anything at all.

Leaving home, Vivienne proceeded with quiet determination, canceling her identification card and household registration.

Rafael had been gone for days, vanishing as if he had been swallowed by the earth.

It wasn’t until the third day, just as she signed the final document severing her legal ties to this life that her phone rang.

A call from his assistant.

“Sisterinlaw, come quickly! Something happened to Rafael!”

His words struck like a bolt of lightning.

After storming off in anger, Rafael had disappeared without a trace. Now, after days of silence, he had been found speeding recklessly down the road before a violent crash left him comatose, clinging to life in a hospital bed.

By the time Vivienne arrived, the emergency consultation had already taken place. The moment the doctors saw her, urgency filled their voices.

“He needs an immediate blood transfusion. If he doesn’t get it now, he won’t make it.”

One of the doctors hesitated, a deep frown lining his face.

“But, Director, the blood bank is critically low. We might not have enough…”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Vivienne rolled up her sleeve. “Take mine. My blood type matches his.”

The doctor’s gaze flickered with hesitation. “You…”

“Don’t worry. I can handle it.”

Lying on the hospital bed, she barely flinched as the thick needle pierced her vein. A sharp sting coursed through her arm, but she merely furrowed her brows and turned her head away.

“Rafael, you always believed I owed your family a life. Consider this my repayment.”

“From this moment on, we owe each other nothing.”

The blood transfusion left her drained. Darkness crept over her vision, and before she could fight it, she slipped into unconsciousness.

When she finally came to, she heard that Rafael had regained consciousness.

Ignoring the nurse’s protests, Vivienne forced herself up, stumbling toward Rafael’s hospital room.

The sight before her made her breath hitch.

Freya sat beside him, clutching his hand, her eyes shimmering with tears.

“You’re finally awake, Brother… I was so scared… so scared…”

“Don’t be,” Rafael murmured, his fingers brushing over her hair in a soothing gesture.

“If it weren’t for you donating blood in time, I wouldn’t have woken up so quickly.”

Vivienne’s fingers trembled at his words.

Freya leaned closer, her voice laced with sweetness. “Of course! If I didn’t save you, who else would? Brother, I was terrified.”

She took his hand, pressing it against her chest. “Feel that? My heart is still racing…”

A faint, weak smile curled Rafael’s lips. He said nothing more.

Vivienne stood at the doorway, watching. A cold, piercing chill slithered through her veins.

She lingered for a moment, then let out a quiet, selfmocking laugh.

What was she feeling sentimental about? Vivienne, weren’t you always just an outsider?

Without another glance, she turned and left.

For the next few days, she didn’t step foot in the hospital. She buried herself in finalizing the paperwork, tying up every loose end.

Three days before her departure, Rafael was discharged.

The moment she entered the house, she was greeted by an alltoofamiliar scene. Freya was carefully helping Rafael onto the couch; her touch was gentle, and her expression was full of concern.

Rafael’s gaze snapped to Vivienne the second she walked in. His expression darkened.

“I just came back to grab a few things. I won’t be in your way.”

She barely spared him a glance as she turned away. “You two go on.”

“Vivienne!”

Rafael shoved Freya aside and limped toward her, his voice sharp with frustration. “Can’t you even look at me properly?”

“I was in a car accident! I was hospitalized for days; do you even care? If it weren’t for Freya’s timely blood donation, I might have—”

Freya bit her lip and gently rolled up her sleeve, revealing faint bruises beneath the delicate skin.

Rafael let out a cold laugh.

“But you, Vivienne… You didn’t visit me. Not once. You have no heart. You’re completely coldblooded.”

Vivienne tilted her head, watching the man before she seethed with rage. Amusement flickered in her eyes.

“Don’t you have Freya?”

“You love her, and she loves you. So why does it matter whether I look at you or not? Do you expect such respect from a mere servant?”

Rafael let out a sharp, bitter laugh, his fury barely restrained.

Freya, sensing his temper spiraling, quickly stepped in and helped him upstairs, murmuring soothing words.

Vivienne stood still, her gaze following his retreating figure. Absentmindedly, she touched her arm.

To donate blood for him, she had pushed her frail body to its limits; her limbs had trembled uncontrollably, sweat dampening her skin.

Her entire arm was swollen, but he never noticed.

Forget it—there was no need for him to know.

She was leaving soon anyway. If he wanted to hate her, so be it.

Ever since Freya had donated blood, Rafael’s affection for her had only deepened. The pretense of loving Vivienne had crumbled entirely.

The media feasted on their socalled romance. Everywhere she turned, there were photos, images of Rafael kissing Freya in public, of him holding her close. Their love, displayed for the world to see.

Before, Rafael had cared enough about his reputation to keep such images out of the public eye.

Now, he no longer bothered. In the comments, he openly declared Freya as the love of his life.

Freya, glowing with pride, accompanied him on strolls through the garden, by his side during hospital visits.

Lost in their affection, they embraced and kissed in public without restraint.

For days, the media was flooded with their photos, sparking heated discussions.

Vivienne heard enough whispers to last a lifetime.

“At the very least, she’s still his fiancée. This is just too humiliating.”

“So tragic. For a woman to end up like this....”

“It’s all that scumbag Rafael’s fault!”

But to Vivienne, those comments were fleeting and insignificant, disappearing before they could leave a mark.

The next time she saw Rafael was the day before his birthday.

“You’re coming,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Grandfather has already decided that our wedding date will be announced at the banquet. Don’t even think about running away.”

His expression darkened. “Freya will be there too. Take care of her.”

Before Vivienne could respond, Rafael added coldly, “And when you make the cake, be mindful. Freya doesn’t like sweets. Use strawberries; she’s allergic to mangoes.”

Vivienne nodded, but a sharp pain tore through her chest as if an old wound had been ripped open.

Once, he had known her preferences just as clearly.

And now…

Forget it.

She turned toward the kitchen without another word.

The higherups had already informed her she would be leaving in the next couple of days.

Since this would be the last birthday cake she ever made for Rafael, there was no point in lingering on anything else.

Vivienne busied herself through the night, her hands moving in practiced motions.

As she baked the cake base, memories surfaced, clear, vivid, inescapable. She and Rafael had once tried baking together. It had been their first attempt, and neither of them had any control over the heat. The batter had sunk, the edges had burned, and yet, through every failure, they had laughed.

Later, while she spread the cream, Rafael slipped his arms around her from behind, his chin resting against her shoulder. His warm breath brushed her skin, and his voice rumbled softly.

"Vivienne, you're so good to me."

Then, he'd turned his head, kissing her cheek.

"Can you make a cake for me every year from now on?"

She had dipped her finger into the cream, smearing it across his face with a playful grin. His stunned expression had sent her into peals of laughter.

The sharp chime of the oven dragged her back to the present.

Vivienne took out the cake, and a sweet aroma filled the dining room.

She reached for the cream, a small smile tugging at her lips, and then, a sudden sound from the bedroom shattered the warmth.

A teasing, breathless voice rang out.

"Oh no, your injury hasn’t healed yet! You can’t, you can’t touch me!"

"I don’t care; I’ll touch you anyway!"

Laughter followed, light, coy, filled with unmistakable intimacy.

Freya’s voice was heard, saying, "Brother, you said you’ll always be by my side tomorrow, right?"

"Of course," Rafael answered.

"Brother, you're so good to me. I feel so happy, so, so happy."

Another giggle.

"Ah, I told you not to touch me there; it tickles!"

"Forget it. You might as well just eat me up. I can’t escape from your grasp anyway."

The laughter that followed was laced with breathless gasps, intimate and teasing.

Vivienne felt something inside her twist violently, as if an unseen hand had wrenched her heart from her chest. Her vision blurred. She pressed her fingers against her eyes, rubbing hard, willing herself not to see, not to feel.

So, she busied herself, anything to drown out the sounds echoing in her mind.

The threetiered fruit cake was complete when the first light of dawn spilled through the window.

Rafael had always asked her to limit sugar, so she had added only a hint of xylitol, letting the fresh fruit’s natural sweetness carry the flavor.

Vivienne placed the cake in the fridge. The exhaustion she had been ignoring finally caught up to her. She rested her head on the dining table, and before she knew it, sleep pulled her under.

And in her dreams, she drifted back to a time untouched by pain, to days that had once been so simple, so beautiful.

Senior year had been relentless, with nights of studying stretching endlessly and stealing her sleep. She often stole short naps between classes, resting her head on her desk whenever exhaustion weighed too heavily.

The golden sunlight had always spilled through the windows, warm against her face.

"Why are you sleeping here? You’ll catch a cold."

Rafael’s voice was gentle, familiar.

She had felt the soft weight of his coat as he draped it over her, careful not to wake her.

Such a familiar feeling.

Such a warm dream.

Vivienne didn’t want to wake up. But the moment her arm slipped, she startled upright, reality dragging her back.

Blinking, she wiped away the tears that had gathered at the corners of her eyes, not even realizing when they had fallen. Slowly, she straightened her posture.

A thin coat slid from her shoulders, pooling onto the floor.

It was Rafael’s jacket.

The stillness in her heart, once as quiet as an undisturbed lake, rippled with faint waves.

She picked up the jacket, running her fingers gently over the fabric.

It carried his scent.

Her gaze lifted, landing on a large gift box on the dining table.

It was wrapped exquisitely and adorned with a bold red bow, the satin ribbon tied with perfect precision. Beneath it, a small card rested.

"Wear this dress, or you’ll embarrass me."

A tremor ran through her hands as her fingertips brushed against the bow.

Lifting the lid, she found an evening gown nestled inside, fiery red, vibrant, breathtaking.

A memory surfaced, his voice echoing softly in her mind.

"You look beautiful in red."

Vivienne stood frozen, her fingers tracing the fabric as she lifted the dress.

For a fleeting moment, something stirred within her, a heartbeat she thought had long since withered.

But it was gone just as quickly as it came. Before she could even try on the dress, her phone vibrated with a message from Freya.

She was at a boutique, selecting outfits for the banquet.

With Rafael.

The image that followed made Vivienne’s breath catch.

Rafael stood tall in a perfectly tailored suit, his presence commanding even with the faint bruises marring his face and the slight unsteadiness in his step. None of it dulled his striking allure.

Beside him, Freya wore white. Not just any dress. A light wedding gown.

A sharp, unbearable pain clawed at Vivienne’s heart.

She shut the messaging app, set her phone aside, and tried to steady her breathing. But the ache refused to fade no matter how long she sat there.

Rafael had countless lovers, more than she could ever count, but she had never seen him this devoted to any of them.

Maybe whatever sliver of love he once had for her had long been swept away by the wind.

Ultimately, she couldn’t bring herself to wear the dress he sent.

It repulsed her.

When she finally stood before Rafael, she caught the fleeting moment his smile faltered, the unnatural twitch of his lips betraying his reaction.

Beside him, Freya clung to his arm without hesitation.

"What’s wrong, brother? Did she upset you again? So bad!"

Rafael shook off Freya’s hand and limped toward Vivienne, his gaze dark and unreadable.

"Where’s the dress I gave you?"

"You did this on purpose, didn’t you? You dressed like this just to disgust me, to provoke me, to humiliate me?"

Vivienne lowered her gaze, taking in the casual outfit she wore.

"No."

"You’re not that important."

"Not important enough for me to dress for you nor to go out of my way just to displease you."

Rafael drew in a deep breath, his eyes darkening, the rims tinged red.

Had Freya not latched onto his wrist and dragged him away, Vivienne feared he might have crushed her in his grip.

Just then, a man approached, his voice laced with enthusiasm.

"Mr. Moretti, hello! Is this your wife? Hello, ma’am!"

Freya’s face instantly brightened, her smile stretching wide as she nodded eagerly.

But the moment her gaze flickered toward Vivienne, something shifted.

"And she is...?"

"Ignore her."

Rafael’s expression darkened, his voice dripping with impatience. "She’s just the housemaid."

Vivienne’s heart plummeted, a sharp, violent ache tearing through her chest.

Humiliation burned beneath her skin. She turned her head away, only to catch sight of the threetiered fruit cake being wheeled in.

Rafael gently took Freya’s hand, guiding it as they cut the cake together.

Then, with a warm smile, he lifted a small piece to her lips, feeding her the first bite himself.

Freya chewed delicately, her eyes crinkling with joy.

"Thank you, brother."

"I love you."

For a brief moment, Rafael’s hand trembled. But the hesitation vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by a soft smile.

"As long as you like it. If it makes you happy, I’ll have her make it for you every day, different flavors, just to keep you smiling."

Freya beamed, throwing herself into his arms in a tight embrace.

Then, right there, in front of everyone, they kissed passionately.

Vivienne stood frozen, her gaze locking onto the scene as someone in the crowd raised their phone, snapping pictures.

Instinctively, she stepped back.

Just then, Freya suddenly pushed Rafael away, her brows tightly furrowed, her lips pressing together in discomfort.

"Brother… Brother, I… I feel awful."

An alarm flashed across Rafael’s face. "What’s wrong, Freya?"

Freya staggered, her breath coming in shallow gasps before her body gave way, collapsing to the ground.

Rafael dropped to his knees beside her, gripping her trembling hands.

"Freya!" His voice was urgent, thick with worry.

Freya’s fingers clutched at his sleeve as panic filled her eyes.

"Brother, I can’t breathe… I think… I think I’m having an allergic reaction…"

Rafael’s gaze flickered to the cake, then swept past the murmuring crowd until it landed on Vivienne.

"I… I didn’t—"

"Didn’t what?!"

"How many times have I told you? Freya can’t eat mango! She can’t! And yet you still made her allergic! I know you did this on purpose, to hurt her!"

Rafael stormed toward her, his steps unsteady but fueled by rage.

Vivienne barely had time to draw a breath before a sharp slap cracked across her cheek.

"Stop acting like some helpless little rabbit. I see right through you. You’re nothing but vicious! Once the hospital confirms the diagnosis, let’s see what excuse you have left!"

With that, Rafael swept Freya into his arms and tore through the crowd, vanishing from sight.

Vivienne clutched her stinging cheek, her vision blurred by the flood of tears spilling down her face.

Around her, whispers slithered through the crowd like venom.

"I heard she’s just a maid in the Moretti family."

"A maid? That explains it. Maybe she wanted to poison the real mistress and take her place."

"Don’t be ridiculous. That Freya isn’t the real mistress, either. Wasn’t Rafael supposed to marry his childhood sweetheart? Vivienne something? He even promised to announce their engagement, but there’s been nothing since."

The words stabbed deep, but Vivienne had no strength left to care. She shoved past the murmuring onlookers and ran.

That day, she sat alone in the garden, time slipping through her fingers like sand.

By evening, word came from the hospital that Freya had suffered a severe allergic reaction to mango and had to be hospitalized. Meanwhile, the cake Vivienne had spent all night making had been sent for testing.

The results arrived.

No mango pulp. No jam. But traces of mango juice had been found, enough to nearly cost Freya her life.

At the hospital, Rafael seized Vivienne’s wrist, his grip tightening like a vice, his voice laced with venom.

"You’re despicable. First, you nearly ruined my family, and now, on such an important day, you try to kill the woman I love?" His eyes burned with fury. "Apologize to her!"

"If you don’t, I’ll have you charged with attempted murder. You’ll rot in prison for the rest of your miserable life."

Vivienne’s gaze flickered to Freya, unconscious on the hospital bed, her breathing shallow. A bitter smile curled her lips.

Rafael really did love her.

That soft, agonized look in his eyes, she hadn’t seen it in so long.

Once, he used to look at her the same way.

Familiar. Yet impossibly distant.

She inhaled deeply as if trying to keep herself from drowning, but the weight in her chest only grew heavier.

"I didn’t do it, and I won’t apologize," she said despite the storm raging inside her.

"If you’re so eager to see me suffer, then send me to prison."

The air in the room turned suffocating.

Without warning, Rafael drove his knee into the back of hers. Pain shot through her legs as she lost her balance, collapsing to the floor with a harsh thud.

"You won’t apologize? Then kneel here and repent! You can stand when she wakes up and forgives you!"

Pain pulsed through Vivienne’s knees, but she clenched her teeth, refusing to let a single sound escape.

Rafael turned on his heel, heading for the door. But just as he reached it, he halted, his shoulders stiffening before he spun back to face her.

"It’s because you’re jealous, isn’t it?"

"Because I treat her better, you couldn’t stand it, so you tried to hurt her. Admit it, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll forgive you."

A bitter laugh built in Vivienne’s chest. Forgive her? How laughable.

She shook her head. "No."

"You can love whoever you want, however you want. It has nothing to do with me."

For a moment, Rafael just stared at her, his expression unreadable, but the rage in his eyes burned like wildfire.

Then, without another word, he yanked open the door and strode out, disappearing into the cold, sterile hallway.

A moment later, Vivienne’s phone buzzed with a message.

An hour later, she stepped into a sleek office building, the weight of the past still clinging to her like a ghost.

"Are you ready?" someone asked.

"I’m ready."

She reached out and took the identification card offered to her.

"This is the name we selected for you, Tatiana Devereux, according to your request."

Vivienne let the name settle on her tongue before giving a faint nod.

"Thank you."

As she stood there, she told herself that everything from the past had been carried away by the wind.

A black car waited downstairs, its engine humming in the stillness of the night.

"Comrade Vivienne, your sacrifice will not be forgotten. Thank you for your service to the nation."

Without hesitation, she was ushered inside. The door shut with a quiet finality, swallowing her in darkness.

The car sped westward. From that moment on, she no longer existed. Under a new identity, she would vanish from the world she once knew, boarding a plane bound for the distant, unforgiving expanse of the Rousseau Desert.