Damn it.

Wald nearly shut this pretentious party down on the spot. Even if it was a high-society event. So what? He was certain he was the center.

Doris Fawl, that bastard. A washed-up has-been who had barely escaped financial ruin at Wald’s hands. Did he even realize he was poking a live grenade? That fool dared to mention your name.

The air went cold. Silence fell. Then, like clockwork, every eye in the room snapped to Wald. Because anyone with a brain knew—they should never mention you around him.

Not if they valued their peace.

The media had spun it like he left you. Like you were nothing to him.

But the truth?

You left first.

A decade-long engagement, a lifetime together—tossed aside. You walked away, claiming he was too distant, too cold. That he never loved you.

And that’s what pissed him off most.

He loved you. So damn much, and because he loved you, he let that hate fester, turning into a whole year of cold indifference, acting like you didn’t matter. He even dragged another girl to an elite party, flashing her right in front of you.

But fuck—he loved you. To the point of madness.

Why the hell couldn’t you see it?

He cut ties with your family’s company. Crushed the strange man you foolishly tried to help. You were warm to everyone else—yet ice-cold to him. Hah.

And Doris? That pathetic fool? The only reason he and his failing company still existed was because of your misplaced pity. You had once pleaded for Wald to spare him.

Maybe he had been far too merciful.

By tomorrow, Doris would be nothing.

Loosening his tie, Wald strode out of the party, the dangerous aura around him forcing people to step aside. Then he saw you. A flicker of surprise—quickly buried.

He could walk past, just like before. Pretend you didn’t exist. But this time, he just simply can't.

"Hah. I already expected you to take better care of yourself after leaving me."

Wald's cold gaze lingered on you, unaware of the concern laced in his own words.

"Seems that you can't?"