Chapter 1

When she was a kid, a car accident wiped out all her memories of Denver Dillahunt.

When they grew up, they crossed paths again by chance.

She didn't recognize him, and he only treated her like a stand-in for his childhood sweetheart.

After dating for four years, they were about to get married.

Out of nowhere, someone pretending to be his childhood sweetheart came into their lives—and stole everything from her.

But she didn't compete with her imposter. On the day of the wedding, she just disappeared.

Later, her memories came flooding back.

And Denver finally realized who she really was.

He deeply regretted not recognizing her sooner and hoped she would forgive him.

But she said firmly, "Denver, there's no going back."

——

If it weren't for the minor car accident that day, Leslie Jeffries wouldn't have checked her car's dashcam. And she wouldn't have discovered the proof of her fiancé's cheating.

The footage was crystal clear: a young woman wrapped her arms around Denver's neck and kissed him.

Denver—her fiancé—didn't pull away.

Just as Leslie was processing this, the driver who hit her car tapped on her window, trying to negotiate.

"Hey, miss, can we just settle this privately? How about I give you 70 bucks to fix it?"

But Leslie didn't care about the accident anymore. She just waved the driver off, telling him to leave.

With trembling hands, she started playing the most recent footage from the dashcam.

And with each one, she felt her heart sink deeper and deeper:

Three days ago, Denver wasn't at a business dinner—he was having a candlelit date with that woman.

Last weekend, he didn't go on a business trip—he took her on a weekend getaway out of town.

Two months ago, he gave Leslie the Cartier watch from his trip to France. But it turned out that he was only there to buy his other woman a Patek Philippe, and the Cartier watch was basically a freebie.

And that other woman—Kiana Lawrence—only moved into their place six months ago.

Denver had said she was his long-lost sister.

"Would a sister be so intimate with her brother?" Leslie scoffed. "That's just so disgusting, so pathetic!"

Leslie didn't know how long she sat there by the side of the road until her phone rang. It was Denver.

"My love, your car's all set. I'm coming to pick you up now."

She opened her mouth to speak, but all she could feel was bitterness in her throat. No words came out.

"Hello? My love, you there?" he asked gently.

"Yeah…" she managed to whisper before tears spilled down her cheeks.

She covered her mouth, trying to stop herself from sobbing out loud.

"My love, what's wrong? Are you still at the bridal shop?" he asked. "Stay there, I'm on my way!"

He hung up, checked her location through the car's GPS, and sped over to her.

Ten minutes later, Denver found her sitting on the curb outside the bridal shop, looking completely lost.

Without saying a word, he pulled her into his arms.

"You scared the hell out of me! What happened?"

Leslie didn't tell him the truth. "I-I'm sorry. I accidentally had your car scratched…"

Denver let out a sigh of relief. "That's it? My love, it's just a scratch. Don't cry over something like that. I'll take care of it, okay?"

He gently rubbed her face, smiling as he asked, "By the way, did you pick out a wedding gown?"

She had already narrowed it down to three and was waiting for him to help her decide.

But now, staring at him lying to her face, she realized the dress didn't matter anymore.

"Yeah, I picked one. Let's go home."

The streets of Los Angeles stayed as lively as ever, cars and people everywhere.

But Leslie's world was falling apart.

Sitting in the passenger seat, she didn't say a word—not like her usual self.

Denver reached over and worriedly held her hand.

"What's wrong, my love? Why are you so quiet?"

Suddenly, Leslie's eyes drifted to the glove compartment. There, sitting in plain sight, was lipstick.

Chapter 2

"Whose lipstick is that?" Leslie asked.

Denver glanced at it, confused. "Isn't it yours?"

It wasn't.

A sickening thought crept into her mind. 'Have they been here earlier? Did they kiss in my fucking car?'

Her stomach turned. She quickly pulled her hand away from his and said flatly, "I'm tired. I don't want to talk. Just focus on driving."

Her mind was a storm of anger and heartbreak, but after it all burned through, there was nothing left—just a heavy, empty silence.

She and Denver were already engaged. The wedding was only a month away.

Invitations had already been sent out to family and friends. Some guests had even started sending them gifts.

But now… Now, she had to deal with the fact that her fiancé was cheating on her. What was she supposed to do?

She turned her head to look out the window, lost in thought.

On the outside, Denver always seemed so gentle and attentive, but Leslie knew better.

Underneath, he was controlling, the type of man who wouldn't take no for an answer.

If she told him she wanted to cancel the wedding, he'd never agree.

And why should she have to walk away like some brokenhearted fool?

Why should she be the one to lose everything?

A wild, dangerous thought came to her: 'I want revenge'

When they got home, Kiana had already made dinner.

As soon as Denver stepped inside, she rushed to place his slippers neatly by the door and took his coat like she always did.

Before, Leslie hadn't thought much of it. She'd chalked it up to sibling affection.

But now, those gestures looked more like a wife welcoming her husband home.

Kiana must have sensed Leslie's stare because she quickly put on a sweet, innocent smile.

"Leslie, I made your favorite corn chowder tonight!"

Leslie's mind flashed back to the day Denver had first brought Kiana home.

That day, she wouldn't stop crying on his lap and calling him "my brother" over and over.

For the past six months, Leslie had felt sorry for Kiana and had treated her like her own sister.

And now? That so-called sister had been eyeing her fiancé the entire time.

Looking at Kiana's fake, sweet expression made Leslie's hatred flare all over again.

She sat down at the table, her face cold and unreadable.

Travis, Denver's younger brother, stood nearby and noticed her mood. Frowning, he called her out, "Leslie, Kiana's talking to you. Why are you being so rude to her?"

Travis was someone Denver had adopted from an orphanage. He was in his second year of college now.

He and Leslie used to be close like real siblings, but ever since Kiana moved in, he acted like his new sister was the only person who mattered.

Denver tapped the table. "Travis, watch your tone when you're talking to your soon-to-be sister-in-law."

Grumbling under his breath, Travis backed off.

Kiana, of course, tried to smooth things over. "Let's not argue over this. It's no biggie, anyway, plus we're all family here!"

'Family?' Leslie almost laughed. 'The three of you might be a family, but me? I'm just an outsider.'

Kiana picked up a bowl of soup and handed it to Leslie with a smile.

But Leslie couldn't stomach the fake kindness anymore. She raised her hand, lightly pushing the bowl away.

That's when Kiana's hand suddenly jerked, and the bowl tipped, spilling hot soup all over her hands and clothes.

"Ahhh!" she screamed, dramatic enough to quickly draw everyone's attention.

Travis quickly jumped up. "What's wrong with you, Leslie? If you didn't want it, you could've just said so! Why'd you push Kiana?"

Denver immediately grabbed Kiana's hands, examining the burns.

His gaze then shot to Leslie, filled with disbelief. "My love, how could you do that?"

He led Kiana to the sink, running her hands under cold water while Travis scrambled to find burn ointment.

Leslie just sat there, watching the ridiculous scene like an outsider.

She hadn't pushed the bowl. All she did was lightly block it with her hand.

She didn't use any force at all. It was impossible for the soup to spill.

Kiana had done this on purpose!

Chapter 3

But who would believe Leslie anyway?

What should've been a nice dinner turned cold and awkward.

Taking advantage of the Dillahunt brothers siding with her, Kiana pretended to be kind, saying, "Denver, Travis, don't blame Leslie. I'm sure she didn't mean it."

That just made things worse. Travis snapped, "If it wasn't intentional, then Leslie should apologize to Kiana. End of story."

Leslie slammed her silverware down. "Me? Apologize?"

'She's the one who started this! Not me!' she wanted to add.

To her surprise, Denver put his silverware down too. His voice was calm but firm.

"My love, you're in the wrong this time. What's so hard about saying sorry?"

Leslie looked at her fiancé in disbelief, only to be met with a cold, distant gaze.

It hit her then—whenever Kiana was around, no matter what happened, Leslie was always the one at fault.

She let out a bitter laugh. "Fine, I'll apologize," she said. "Sorry for upsetting Kiana and ruining your dinner."

Setting the napkin down on the table, she continued, "I'm done. You guys enjoy it."

Without waiting for a response, she got up and left the table.

Just then, Travis pulled out two basketball tickets from his pocket.

"This Friday is the college basketball league. I'm one of the starters for our school's team," he began. "You guys have to come to cheer me on!"

Leslie stopped walking and instinctively reached out for a ticket.

But Travis handed one to Denver and the other to Kiana instead.

"Sorry, Leslie. I only managed to get two tickets," Travis apologized half-heartedly. "Besides, you don't even know basketball, right? I'll invite you next time."

He smirked at her, obviously enjoying her discomfort.

It was true that Leslie didn't know much about basketball.

But because her fiancé's brother loved it, she had secretly looked up NBA and CBA games to learn more.

Although her chest tightened, she forced a casual shrug. "No worries. You guys go ahead."

Denver glanced at the date on the ticket and turned to Leslie. "My love, I have a meeting that day. Why don't you go with Kiana instead?"

And that's how Leslie ended up sitting next to Kiana at the basketball game on Friday.

The game was intense.

Travis's good looks and skills on the court made him the center of attention, especially for the girls in the crowd.

Watching him drenched in sweat as he played, Leslie couldn't help but think back to four years ago.

Back then, he was just a high schooler who always lost to Denver when they played basketball. The younger man used to pout and complain to her.

She would laugh, ruffle his hair, and tease Denver for not going easy on his younger brother.

Now, in the blink of an eye, Travis wasn't that kid anymore.

When the halftime whistle blew, Leslie grabbed a towel and a bottle of water and walked toward him.

Kiana followed close behind.

They both handed Travis a water bottle at the same time.

He glanced at Leslie but took the one from Kiana instead.

Before Leslie could react, the towel in her hand was snatched away.

Kiana stood on her tiptoes, using the towel to wipe the sweat off Travis's face.

"Wow, Travis, I didn't know you were such an amazing basketball player!" she said.

"Thanks," Travis replied, blushing and grinning like a kid.

Watching the two of them laugh and chat, Leslie felt an ache in her chest like something was missing.

One of Travis's teammates nudged him playfully, teasing, "Hey, Captain, with so many pretty girls around, why not introduce us to one?"

Travis's expression turned serious as he put an arm around Kiana's shoulders.

"Back off. She's my sister. Don't even think about it."

'She's like my sister…'

Not long ago, Travis had introduced Leslie to his team the same way.

Chapter 4

Travis used to rest his head on Leslie's shoulder and say sweetly, "Leslie, you're the only sister I'll ever have in this life…"

As Leslie was lost in the memory, a basketball came flying toward the three of them at full speed.

Travis reacted quickly, shielding Kiana by cupping the back of her head and pulling her into his chest.

Standing behind them, Leslie had no time to dodge and was hit squarely on the forehead by the basketball.

It made a thud, and the sound alone was enough to make anyone wince.

A boy ran over to retrieve the ball, apologizing profusely and asking if she was okay.

Leslie was already teary-eyed from the pain. But after a while, she waved her hand weakly and said, "It's fine. I'm okay now."

Her gaze shifted to Travis, who was gripping Kiana's hand tightly in concern.

"Kiana, are you sure you're okay? Thank goodness it didn't hit you! I wouldn't know how to explain that to my brother."

Not even a glance—he couldn't spare a single look at Leslie, who had taken the hit directly.

To be fair, Leslie didn't hate Travis. He wasn't the one who had cheated. In fact, she used to think, 'Even if things don't work out between me and Denver, at least Travis and I will always be like siblings!'

But right now, watching him fuss over Kiana while completely ignoring her, Leslie felt like a joke.

Bending down, she picked up her knocked-over water bottle without saying a word and quietly left the basketball court.

The autumn breeze brushed against her face, carrying an unexpected chill.

This villa… there was nothing left in it worth staying for.

Leslie's custom-made wedding gown had arrived at the villa.

The design was exquisite, with intricate embroidery and flawless craftsmanship. Ninety-nine diamonds adorned the bodice, making it shimmer brilliantly.

But holding it in her hands, Leslie felt nothing—no excitement, no joy. She tossed it onto the couch as if it were just any other item.

Coming down the stairs, Kiana spotted the dress on the couch.

"Leslie, this dress is stunning! You're going to look like an actual goddess in it!"

Leslie forced a polite smile. "Thanks."

Kiana's fingers gently traced the sparkling diamonds, her admiration plain as day.

"As an orphan, I never dared to dream about wearing something this beautiful," she murmured. Then, she asked, "Leslie, could I try it on? Just for a little while?"

Leslie looked at Kiana, her heart softening. She nodded.

Anyway, she didn't care about the wedding, so she let someone else wear the dress.

Overjoyed, Kiana grabbed the dress and headed into the bedroom.

About 10 minutes later, she emerged, looking distressed.

"What's wrong?" Leslie asked.

Kiana hesitantly opened her hand, revealing a diamond lying in her palm. The front of the dress now had a large, gaping hole where the diamond had fallen out.

Leslie was stunned. "This is a custom dress worth over two hundred thousand. How could it fall apart so easily?"

Could this really not be on purpose?

Before Leslie could question Kiana, the sound of the front door unlocking interrupted them—Denver had just come home from work.

Kiana seemed to be waiting for this exact moment.

With a dramatic thud, she knelt in front of Leslie, pleading with her repeatedly.

"I'm so sorry, Leslie! I didn't mean to! Please, you can hit me or yell at me, but don't kick me out. I can't lose Denver or Travis. Please, I'm begging you!"

Leslie stared at her in shock, about to tell Kiana to get up, when Denver strode over with a dark expression.

Grabbing Kiana by the arm, he pulled her up and glared at Leslie with hostility.

"What's going on here?"

Before Leslie could explain, Kiana cut in first. "Don't blame Leslie! It's all my fault!"

Chapter 5

"I was helping your fiancé try on her wedding gown, and I accidentally knocked off the biggest diamond…"

Tears streamed down her face as she spoke.

"I'm really sorry, Leslie. I'll do anything—be your servant if you want—just please don't kick me out…"

Leslie let out a cold laugh. The same trick, used twice, wasn't going to work again.

"Kiana, when did I ever say I was kicking you out?"

Denver took a deliberate step forward, shielding Kiana completely behind him.

"My love, you're being unreasonable." His tone was calm but firm. "You never used to be like this."

Leslie looked up, stunned. She couldn't believe it—the man who had always shielded her and held her close now stood against her for someone else.

Hurt, disappointment, and anger all welled up inside her, choking her words before they could form.

Meanwhile, Kiana kept up her sob-filled performance. Compared to her, Leslie felt like an emotionless puppet.

After a long silence, Leslie finally spoke. "The wedding gown is yours. You can stay in this villa as long as you want."

After all, in just fifteen days, she would disappear from this place forever.

Without another word, she turned and walked upstairs while Denver escorted the tearful Kiana back to the guest room.

Late into the night, Leslie could still hear the faint sounds of Kiana's crying and Denver's gentle words of comfort.

Unable to resist, Leslie peeked through the door's narrow opening. Inside, Kiana clung to Denver's waist, her voice soft and sweet. "Denver, I really envy Leslie… Actually, I…"

"I know." Denver interrupted her, his voice tender.

"Kiana, as long as I live, I'll never let you feel hurt again. Anything you want, I'll make it happen. The only thing I can't do is marry you. Everything else, you can have. Trust me, okay?"

It felt like an invisible hand gripped Leslie's heart and twisted. The pain, sharp and deep, reminded her that she wasn't as numb as she wanted to believe.

She always acted calm and resolute. But Denver—he was the one person who could shatter her mask with precision.

Under the shower, the water washed away her tears, along with memories she wished would fade.

The man who once saw no one but her was gone.

What remained was this "brother," desperate to put the entire world at Kiana's feet.

The next morning, as soon as Denver left for work, Leslie methodically began packing.

Four years of living together had filled every corner of the villa with her belongings. Each item carried a memory of Denver.

She stuffed everything into large cardboard boxes and tossed them into the neighborhood dumpsters.

When Denver returned in the evening, he was startled to see their bedroom half-empty.

"Why does it feel like half the stuff is gone?"

Leslie answered casually, "Making room for the new occupant."

Denver thought for a moment, then smiled.

"Fair enough. Once we have kids, we'll definitely need more space."

Seeing the faint excitement on his face, Leslie found it laughable—tragically so.

'Denver, Denver… I don't even want you anymore. What makes you think I'd have your child?'

He slipped his arms around her waist from behind, his lips brushing her neck.

Leslie stiffened, ready to pull away, but right on cue, Kiana appeared in the doorway.

"Denver, Leslie, dinner's ready."

Denver immediately let go, grinning as he followed Kiana downstairs.

When Leslie joined them at the table, she noticed a bowl of golden Lobster Newberg placed in front of her seat.

Chapter 6

"Leslie, I made this Lobster Newberg today," Kiana said. "I felt bad about ruining your wedding gown yesterday, so think of this as my way of apologizing. Try it and tell me if it's good!"

Denver and Travis both turned to look at Leslie.

Leslie smiled faintly. "You don't know I'm allergic to seafood?"

Kiana blinked innocently. "I… I didn't know."

Leslie believed that Denver and Travis didn't know—after all, she had never eaten seafood in front of them. But Kiana? There was no way.

When Kiana first came into Denver's life, Leslie had treated her like a younger sister. She once even brought her out to a restaurant for New England cuisine. Back then, Leslie didn't know she ate lobster until she broke out in rashes immediately.

Denver frowned. "My love, are you really allergic to seafood?"

Travis scoffed. "Isn't that just an excuse? If you don't want to accept Kiana's apology, just say so."

Denver sighed. "Are you still upset about Kiana ruining your dress? She's already apologizing sincerely. Let it go, okay?" Then, he added, "I'll buy you an even prettier dress. Stop making this complicated, alright?"

As he spoke, he cut a small bite of Lobster Newberg with a fork and held it up to Leslie's mouth.

But she turned her head away, refusing to eat it.

"Open your mouth," Denver said coldly, his tone sharp.

When Leslie pressed her lips together tightly, resisting, Denver grabbed her chin. He forced her lips open and shoved the dish into her mouth.

Leslie struggled, trying to break free.

Suddenly, Denver threw the fine bone china fork to the floor, smashing it into pieces. The sharp sound echoed in the room, much like Leslie's shattering heart.

He stood abruptly, glaring at her. "Leslie, have you had enough?"

Leslie held his gaze for just a moment before the cold, unfamiliar look in his eyes made her feel as if she'd been burned.

Tears streaming down her face, she got up and ran upstairs to the bedroom. Once there, she clung to the toilet and vomited the Lobster Newberg.

Downstairs, Kiana lowered her head, her tears falling steadily. "Denver… it's all my fault," she muttered. "I shouldn't have come here. I'll leave now…"

She stood up as if to go, but Denver grabbed her wrist and pulled her back into her seat. "Sit down! This isn't your fault."

Upstairs, Leslie kept vomiting until her head spun. Weak and dizzy, she stumbled to the drawer, searching for her allergy medicine.

She turned the drawer inside out but couldn't find it. Helpless, she watched as red welts spread across her arms, swelling painfully.

Sliding down against the wall, Leslie sat on the floor, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. Then, she let out a bitter laugh.

So this was Kiana's plan—not just to take her husband but to take her life too.

Meanwhile, Denver finished both his plate and Leslie's portion of the Lobster Newberg.

Wiping his mouth, he smiled at Kiana. "It's delicious!"

Then, he went upstairs.

When he pushed the door open, he saw his fiancée lying unconscious on the floor. The sight made his heart stop for a moment.

"Leslie? Leslie! Wake up! Don't scare me!"

Panic-stricken, Denver picked Leslie up and rushed downstairs.

Travis, startled, stood up quickly. "What happened? Did she faint from being upset?"

Meanwhile, Kiana started crying again.

"Oh gosh, this is all my fault! I must be the one causing trouble! Everyone around me ends up miserable…" She sniffed, then declared, "I'll leave. I'll leave right now!"

Just like that, she grabbed her suitcase and made it as if to leave again.

Distracted and overwhelmed, Denver handed Leslie to Travis. "Travis, take Leslie to the hospital! I'll stay here and look after Kiana. Hurry!"

Still flustered, Travis quickly carried Leslie out and drove her to the hospital, his movements clumsy with panic.

Chapter 7

After half an hour of emergency treatment, Leslie slowly came to.

The first thing she saw was Travis. She couldn't help it—disappointment came first, acceptance last.

'Of course, Denver wouldn't care enough to stay,' she thought in resignation.

"Thanks, Travis," Leslie said quietly.

"Such a hassle," Travis hissed, brushing off his pants as he stood and went to call the doctor.

The doctor gave her a quick check and said, "She's fine now. Just watch her diet and keep anti-allergy meds at home."

But Travis's mind was elsewhere—probably on Kiana. He pulled Leslie up without much thought and started striding toward the parking lot.

"Something's going on at home. Can you walk faster?" he asked in an annoyed tone.

Still shaky from waking up, Leslie stumbled. Her legs gave out, and she fell to the ground, scraping her knees.

Travis froze, his patience snapping like a rubber band stretched too thin. "Leslie, why do you always have to be so much trouble?"

Leslie's chest tightened, her nose stung, but she forced the tears back.

'Is this really the same boy I used to know?' she wondered. 'The same kid who would get worried over a tiny scratch on my heel and insist on carrying me on his back?'

She pressed her palms to her knees and pushed herself up. Her knees throbbed, but the pain wasn't what hurt most. She knew she'd lost to Kiana—but she still didn't understand why.

"Travis," she said, her voice trembling, "can you just tell me why? Why does everyone side with Kiana? Why do you hate me so much?"

Hands stuffed in his pockets, Travis shot her a cold glance.

"Kiana grew up with us at the same orphanage.

We got separated because of an accident, and my brother spent sixteen years looking for her.

If it wasn't for you, Kiana would've married my brother! She could've been my sister-in-law soon!

We could've had a happy life—perfect, really.

But you? You ruined all of it!"

His words hit like a hammer, each one heavier than the last. He punched a nearby tree, his frustration boiling over, not even noticing how hard Leslie flinched.

"So that's how it is." Her voice cracked. "I get it now."

She forced herself to stand straighter. "You can go. I just… want to walk by myself for a while."

He didn't hesitate. Without another word, he climbed into Denver's car, hit the gas, and left Leslie standing there.

The streets that night were quiet and empty.

Leslie wandered with no destination, Travis's words circling her mind like a broken record.

'Orphanage… like family… separated…'

Flashes of unfamiliar memories hit her out of nowhere. Images she didn't recognize flickered in and out.

Her head pounded. She grabbed onto a lamppost, her breaths coming faster and faster.

'Happily ever after. Never leaving each other.'

In her head, she saw images of three children, pinky-promising under a tree.

'Forever,' they said. 'No matter what.'

Leslie blinked hard, trying to hold onto the memory, but the blurry images of the children vanished.

Even the light from the streetlamps seemed to fade away.

Everything went dark as Leslie collapsed by the roadside.

Then she dreamed—strange yet surreal.

She was six years old, following a cute boy up a hill.

He was laughing, his voice clear and full of excitement. "Kiana, look! I found an emerald!"

'Kiana? Is he talking to me?' Leslie thought.

The boy sat down on the ground, legs crossed, and started polishing the green stone he held.

He worked for what felt like forever until the emerald turned into a smooth pendant, shaped like a lock. He threaded a red string through it and slipped it over her neck—or was it Kiana's?

The next morning, Kiana came to visit Leslie in the hospital.

As soon as she saw Leslie lying on the bed, unconscious, Kiana broke down in tears.

Denver was by her side, his voice gentle. "Shhh. She's fine now. Just tired and sleeping."

He stroked her hair softly, but as his fingers brushed past a red string around Kiana's neck, something slipped out—an emerald pendant, smooth and polished.

Chapter 8

A small green emerald pendant shaped like a lock.

Denver's expression softened the moment he saw it. "You still wear this little thing?"

Kiana blushed and offered a sheepish smile. "Anything my brother gives me, no matter how much it costs, I treasure it."

Denver paused, his brows furrowing slightly. "But this wasn't something I bought. Don't you remember?"

Kiana's gaze darted away. "Of course, I remember… How could I forget?"

She changed the subject quickly. "By the way, did the doctor say when my Leslie can leave the hospital?"

But the sudden shift in topic only made Denver suspicious.

"Kiana," he asked, going back to the subject, "do you remember how you got this pendant?"

Kiana hesitated, her voice faltering as she came up with a vague response. "Well… one day, you gave it to me as a gift."

Denver's sharp eyes softened into an amused curve. "It was for your birthday, wasn't it?"

She nodded quickly. "Yes, yes! My birthday!"

Denver lowered his head, hiding the sadness in his eyes. 'Looks like she doesn't remember after all,' he thought to himself.

That day wasn't anything special. He had just found a beautiful emerald stone and made it into a pendant for the girl he wanted to protect forever.

After getting home, Kiana locked herself in her bedroom. She pulled out an old, yellowish journal from a locked drawer. Flipping through page after page, she searched.

But there was nothing—no mention of the emerald pendant anywhere.

Feeling frustrated, she slammed the journal shut, yanked the pendant off her neck, and locked both away in the deepest corner of the drawer.

Meanwhile, Leslie stayed in the hospital for a week. With the wedding just days away, she was finally discharged.

The nurse handed her the bill. "Is anyone here to help you with this?"

Leslie smiled faintly. "No, just me."

The nurse looked at her sympathetically. "You'll need to go to the billing counter, pay, and then come back for your discharge papers. It might take a while—are you sure you can handle it on your own?"

"I'll be fine," Leslie replied, slightly nodding. 'What else can I do anyway? Who else can I rely on but myself?'

Just a few minutes ago, she saw Kiana's latest post.

Denver, Travis, and Kiana had driven to the world's largest Disneyland to make Kiana's childhood dream come true.

The three of them looked happy, their smiles warm and bright. The caption even said [Childhood regrets vanish when you meet your prince and knight.]

'Of course,' Leslie sneered bitterly in her head. 'Kiana's the princess. Denver's her prince. Travis's her knight.'

And Leslie? She was just the background character, the one who didn't matter, existing solely to highlight the love story of the prince and princess.

She completed her discharge process and took a cab back to the villa by herself.

The cheap wedding gown she had ordered online had arrived. She opened the box and found it wrinkled and plain, nothing like the expensive diamond-studded gown she had once tried on.

But Leslie just smiled. "It's fine."

'Just like me—ordinary and simple,' she thought. 'No point in pretending to be something I'm not.'

She walked upstairs but then noticed something odd. Kiana's bedroom door was open.

Leslie wasn't the type to snoop. She didn't care about Kiana's life or her secrets.

But Leslie couldn't help but notice a familiar bottle of pills on the floor in the corner of the room.

Without thinking, she stepped inside the room and bent down to pick the medicine bottle up.

Chapter 9

'Wait… Isn't this my allergy medicine?!' she realized.

"It's really her… Kiana!"

Leslie yanked open the drawer beside her. She froze in shock. It was full of items stolen from her room—perfume, jewelry, makeup… No wonder her belongings had been disappearing lately.

Her eyes landed on the bottom drawer, the only one locked.

What could be hidden in there?

She grabbed a piece of wire and carefully worked at the lock.

With a click, the drawer opened.

Inside, there were only three items—a diary, a padlock-shaped pendant, and a faded group photo.

The words written above the photo read: [Angel Welfare Home, 2008]

For some reason, Leslie's heart started racing.

She scanned the photo, looking at the young, innocent faces one by one.

Then she saw him—Denver.

Next, she saw Travis.

And finally, she saw… herself!

It was late at night.

In a quiet corner of the massive villa, Leslie sat clutching the diary, tears streaming down her face.

She had always been sharp—reading when she was three, writing when she was four, and her memory was sharper than most children of her age.

But after a car accident when she was seven, she couldn't remember anything before that.

Now, as she flipped through the diary, those lost memories came rushing back.

So this was her childhood.

She wasn't cursed or destined to be alone. She had once been loved—deeply, unconditionally.

She was the "Sister Kiana" Travis had spoken of!

She was the girl Denver had spent 16 years searching for!

When she was six, a wealthy man came to the welfare home.

He immediately took a liking to Kiana's natural beauty and wanted to adopt her as his daughter.

Fourteen-year-old Denver didn't trust the man and decided to escape, taking six-year-old Kiana and four-year-old Travis with him.

But during their escape, they got separated.

And that separation lasted more than 10 years.

Kiana grew up as Leslie, unknowingly crossing paths with Denver again.

The moment he saw her, Denver recognized her. But she insisted her name was Leslie, not Kiana.

Still, Denver kept her by his side and even decided to propose to her.

But fate had other plans.

Just as the wedding date was set, 'Kiana' came into the picture.

Leslie stared at the night sky, her heart full of questions.

"Who is this Kiana taking my place?"

"And who does Denver truly love?"

The stars twinkled back at her as if mocking her confusion.

Her mind spun with countless thoughts, but one image stayed: Kiana wrapping her arms around Denver's neck and pressing a kiss to his lips.

And Denver… didn't push her away.

'No. He didn't push her away,' Leslie recounted. 'Isn't that enough of an answer?'

She slowly wiped her tear-streaked face.

The wedding was in three days.

It was time for her final move.

The next day, Denver, Travis, and Kiana returned, dragging four oversized suitcases, clearly loaded with things they'd brought back.

Denver pulled Leslie into his arms, his tone warm and apologetic.

"My love, I'm so sorry I've been neglecting you. But I arranged for nurses to take care of you while I was gone. Did they do a good job?"

Leslie's gaze shifted to Kiana. "Nurses? Where are they?"

Of course, Kiana had secretly sent them away, and she quickly changed the subject.

"Leslie, I bought so many souvenirs for you. Let me show you!"

Leslie smirked, watching as Kiana opened her suitcase.

One by one, Kiana pulled out limited-edition shoes, bags, and jewelry, laying them across the floor. The room quickly filled with her spoils.

Chapter 10

'Seems like their trip must have been worth every moment,' Leslie reckoned.

She smiled faintly, showing no hint of jealousy.

But Kiana wasn't satisfied. She pulled out a stack of Polaroid photos and began showing them off one by one, eagerly recounting the stories behind each picture.

Leslie's smile didn't waver. It was as steady as if it had been carved into her face.

Until she saw that photo.

In the picture, a man and a woman sat shoulder-to-shoulder on a park bench, bathed in the glow of the setting sun. The woman's head rested gently on the man's shoulder. It was as though even the sunlight couldn't find space between them.

Leslie reached out to take a closer look, but Denver swiftly pulled the photo away.

"Oh, just a random shot of some strangers," he said nonchalantly. "Nothing worth looking at."

"Is that so?" Leslie replied, pretending not to notice anything unusual. "You're quite the photographer."

But she had clearly seen the woman in the photo carrying Kiana's new limited-edition bag.

The next day was supposed to be her wedding day with Denver.

But that night, Leslie sat alone, clutching the group photo from the orphanage as tears streamed down her face.

It wasn't just four years. It was 22 years!

Denver had been part of her entire life, so deeply rooted in her that he was like a part of her soul.

And now, as she prepared to say goodbye, she finally understood how it felt to be torn apart from within.

Perhaps she hadn't hidden her emotions well enough. Denver came into her room, concern written all over his face. He found her sitting there, her delicate features streaked with tears.

He gently pulled her into his arms.

"Why are you crying again, my love?" he asked softly.

Leslie wiped at her tears and forced a smile. "I'm fine. I was just thinking… Tomorrow I'll be marrying you. I'm so happy."

Hearing this, Denver's lips curved into a gentle smile.

"Silly girl," he said, lightly tapping her nose. "I'm happy too."

His sharp, handsome features softened, his expression filled with warmth.

He tilted her chin with his slender fingers, slowly leaning in. His lips moved closer, inch by inch.

Just as they were about to meet, Leslie turned her head, her senses snapping back.

Denver paused, confused. "What's wrong?"

Blushing, Leslie stammered, "Tomorrow… Tomorrow night. Let's wait until then. Would you mind sleeping in the guest room tonight?"

Denver chuckled. "Alright, my love. Rest well tonight. Tomorrow, you'll be the most beautiful bride in the world."

Leslie watched Denver's tall figure disappear through the doorway.

'The most beautiful bride?' Leslie repeated in her head. 'No. I'm the most daring bride.'

That night, Leslie didn't sleep at all.

She packed her identification documents into her backpack, prepared a pair of sneakers, and scheduled a ride-share to wait outside the wedding venue.

Once everything was set, she sat down at her desk.

She pulled out paper and pen, intending to write a letter.

But as she stared at the blank page, her thoughts were a chaotic mess. She had so much to say that she didn't know where to begin.

The ink pooled on the paper, forming a dark blot, but still, she hadn't written a single word.

After a while, finally, inspiration struck her. Instead of writing, she began to draw.

It was a pattern she used to sketch as a child, tracing it in the sand with a stick—a sturdy tree trunk with strong branches reaching out, its leaves lush and full of life.

Tree. Branch. Leaf.

Their names.

As a child, Kiana always pulled Denver and Travis over to see her drawings.

"Guys, look! This tree is called 'Evergreen,'" she would explain proudly. "It means the three of us will always stay together and never apart!"

Now, Leslie carefully drew that same tree on the paper. Beside it, she wrote something in small handwriting.

Chapter 11

[Evergreen.]

There was nothing left Leslie could give Denver.

This drawing would be her final gift—for all three of them.

She folded the paper, placed it in an envelope, and set it carefully under the lamp.

At the break of dawn the next day, Leslie slipped into her wedding gown.

As the first light touched the sky, she pinned up her long hair.

By sunrise, her lips were painted in a perfect shade of red.

When Denver knocked on the door and saw her dressed as a bride, he stood frozen, unable to speak.

After a long moment, he gently took her hand and whispered, "You're stunning… my wife."

The most luxurious reception hall in Los Angeles, booked six months in advance, was set for Leslie's wedding.

Guests began to arrive, most of them Denver's connections—well-known figures from Los Angeles's elite.

Denver greeted them outside the hall while Leslie, excusing herself to touch up her makeup, slipped into a quiet lounge.

In the lounge, her gloved hand brushed against the heavy golden double doors.

When the appointed time came, she was supposed to push those doors open, walk down an aisle of rose petals, and meet the man waiting for her at the end.

But she wouldn't let it come to that.

Earlier, she had sent the attendants away and convinced Kiana to put on the million-dollar wedding gown.

Her part in this story was over. It was time to leave.

Kiana fidgeted, her hands trembling. "Leslie—no, Leslie—are you sure about this? Is it really okay?"

Leslie's smile was warm and calm. "Do you love Denver?"

Kiana nodded firmly. "I do. I love him."

On the other side of the golden doors, the emcee's voice rang out. "And now, let's welcome the bride!"

The wedding march filled the hall.

Leslie changed into a pair of sneakers and pulled Kiana into a brief, reassuring hug. "Go. Be brave. Don't be afraid."

Then she opened a side door leading outside, lifted the hem of her white gown, and ran without looking back.