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Chapter9
“Vivian, I know I was wrong,” Ethan Sterling choked out, his voice raw. “It wasn’t until you left
that I realized how much you mean to me. We’ve spent over twenty years side by side. Let’s spend the rest of our lives together. Let’s find happiness”.”
“Happy?” I let out a cold laugh.
“What is happiness, Ethan? Every time I look at you, I see the faces of two dead children. I remember you abandoning me, abandoning us, again and again. Tell me are those days supposed to be happiness?”
Ethan’s eyes reddened, his face breaking into something close to despair.
“Vivian… it was all my fault. Tell me what I have to do. How can I make you forgive me?”
I stared at him with frozen eyes. Before I could answer, a dark shadow cut between us.
Miles Prescott’s fist smashed into Ethan’s face, the blow so hard it sent him reeling.
I’d never seen Miles like this, rage rolling off him like a freed predator, his eyes promising only
destruction.
“You heartless bastard. What right do you have to beg her forgiveness?” His voice thundered.
“Get out of here–before I tear you apart.”
Miles wrapped me in his arms and turned, guiding me toward the doors.
“Vivian, listen to me! There’s no one else in my heart but you!” Ethan’s desperate cry echoed after us–until the heavy wooden doors slammed shut, cutting off his voice.
But he didn’t leave.
For days, he remained outside the Sterling Estate gates.
Rain poured for nights on end, drenching him to the bone, but still he refused to go. He shouted himself hoarse, begging me to forgive him.
Until one day, his body finally gave out. He collapsed in the storm, carried away by an ambulance.
Six months later, I stood beside Miles at our engagement banquet.
The Prescotts‘ empire stretched across continents. One of his men, careless in sending invitations,
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had delivered one straight into Sterling Conglomerate.
The day Ethan received it, blood rose in his throat and he collapsed.
Half a year earlier, in a frenzy of penance, he had forced Sloane Quinn to abort her child. The ordeal
nearly killed her. When she was discharged, she returned to Sterling Tower with a dagger–and
drove it into Ethan’s chest.
He survived, but not unscathed. His heart was permanently damaged. Months of hospitalization left him a hollow shell. By the time he returned, the power he once wielded had been stripped away. He was nothing but a figurehead, a man with nothing left.
At the banquet, Old Master Prescott formally announced Miles as the heir of Prescott Holdings. I, as his future wife, was introduced with honor to family, friends, and partners in the business world.
These past six months, Miles had not hidden me under his wing. Instead, he trusted my intelligence and ability. He brought me into Prescott Holdings, where I started as a secretary and worked my way up. Now, I was a vital executive, respected in my own right.
The Prescott family welcomed me fully as one of their own.
Glasses clinked, laughter swelled, and yet–out of the corner of my eye, I caught a lonely silhouette in a wheelchair just beyond the banquet hall doors.
His assistant handed me a slim folder. Inside was an asset transfer deed.
Ethan had signed everything he owned over to me–every property, every account–keeping only our old marital home. He had even purchased the orphanage where we had grown up.
Perhaps because he knew his time was running out, he had also written me a letter.
In it, he confessed to nights spent drowning in regret, to countless hours weeping over the ways he had betrayed me. The pages were stained with dried tears.
I skimmed it once, then tossed it into the trash.
Too late. Far too late.
No letter, no apology could ever bring back the children I had lost.
In the years that followed, I adopted a pair of beautiful twins.
With Miles Prescott’s hand entwined firmly in mine, I finally walked into a future of peace, one that
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stayed with me for the rest of my life.
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