Life had always been cruel to Raya, so whatever Leon tried to do today was nothing compared to what she had already endured.
For the past three years, she had been trying to make amends, begging him to forgive her for the past. She had convicted herself as the one who ruined their relationship. But what had Leon been doing all these years?
Parading different women—not behind her back but right in front of her eyes. Still, she was the one pleading, asking for forgiveness, only to receive nothing but insults from his foolish, wide mouth.
Today, he had called her here to humiliate her. To break her. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her shattered.
This was too little to crush her spirit. If a relationship is broken, there is no use trying to repair it.
It was better for everyone to go their separate ways and live their own lives.
She had already made up her mind—Leon was not the one for her, and that was final.
Raya crossed the room slowly, making Leon think she was about to do something dramatic.
But what could she do? Start crying? Would her tears stop her bills from piling up? Or should she fight them both? Would that end her father's gambling?
Instead, she simply placed the bag of clothes neatly on a chair and turned to leave.
No anger. No tears. Those would lead nowhere.
Just… done with this thing she had called a relationship for five years.
---
Leon sat up, watching her go.
Something inside him twisted. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to care. She was supposed to fall apart at the sight of him with another woman. She was supposed to cry and beg him, say she couldn't take his cheating anymore—something to soothe his bruised ego.
But Raya… she had looked at him like he was nothing. Like what he did didn't matter at all.
And somehow, that made him angrier than if she had slapped him.
The woman beside him tried to touch him, but he shoved her away.
His mood had been ruined—completely destroyed by Raya's indifference.
---
Downstairs, Raya stepped into the street.
She took a deep breath, forcing the tightness in her chest down.
No time for tears. No time for pain.
Time was money.
And she couldn't afford to waste either.
Leon didn't need her to buy him clothes. Even if he wasn't rich, his situation was far better than hers. He worked at one of the biggest companies in the country—the Blake family's company—with a salary much higher than hers.
So why had he needed her to buy him clothes?
Because it was deliberate. To hurt her. To make her see him with another woman.
But Raya was done. Done with a relationship that had no respect for her.
With that thought, she walked away and headed to work.
---
At Adrian's mansion
It had been three years since Adrian first found the lady from that night, yet something about her felt wrong.
Seraphina Hart was nothing like the woman he might have spent that night with.
But she looked exactly like her. Maybe he was just being paranoid?.
"Will you come home for dinner, Adrian?" Seraphina Hart asked as Adrian walked out of the hall on his way to work. But he ignored her.
"Adrian, I'm talking to you," Seraphina said, following after him. Again, silence.
The maids watched and whispered among themselves.
He had always been like this—treating her as though she meant nothing to him.
Before he got into his car, Seraphina caught the tip of his suit jacket.
"Adrian?!" she called again, hoping he would at least give her some face before his workers.
"What?" Adrian finally asked, turning back to her.
"Adrian, why are you always like this? I'm your fiancée."
He had grown used to ignoring her, treating her like she was nothing compared to him.
"What do you want?" His voice was low and cold.
"I'm asking if you'll come back home for dinner. I'll cook for you," Seraphina said gently, like a true lady. She didn't want to anger him. Not because she didn't love him—she did, too much—but because she feared him, even if only a little.
"No," came his simple reply. Then he added, "We're going to Grandfather's place for dinner." He didn't wait for her response before sliding into the back seat of his car. The driver pulled away.
He hadn't asked her. He had informed her.
Seraphina watched the car until it disappeared down the long driveway.
She was the proud princess of the Hart family, yet before Adrian, she was nothing.
When would Adrian learn to love her?
She had loved him for so long, even going so far as to pretend to be the woman from that night three years ago. Yet still, he didn't love her.
---
Adrian's car rolled slowly as he checked something on his phone.
A news alert popped up—his official engagement to Seraphina.
The Wedding of the Century: Seraphina Hart and Adrian Blake.
This had to be his grandfather's doing.
To the world, Adrian Blake and Seraphina Hart were the perfect couple—an unstoppable force and an unshakable beauty.
Their photographs graced business magazines and society pages. The media called them The Golden Pair.
When they stepped out together—his cold elegance paired with her radiant poise—no one could see the cracks beneath the polished surface.
But Adrian felt them. And Seraphina did too. Every single day.
---
It had all started that night, three years ago.
A drunken, drugged mistake—or so he thought.
A faceless woman in the dark. A night that should have faded into nothingness.
But the faceless woman had left something behind in him, something he couldn't shake.
He told himself it was because of the fifty-dollar bill. That had to be the reason.
No woman had ever dared insult him like that. That single act had burned into his mind, sharper than any touch.
He hadn't wanted her for more nights. He hadn't even wanted her at all.
He just wanted to see her again—the woman who had treated him like he was nothing.
---
So, he searched.
Days later, Seraphina Hart appeared.
Heiress to the Hart fortune. Adored by the press. Desired by men.
At first, she avoided him—aloof, like a queen too lofty for mere mortals.
Then they met at a charity gala, introduced by one of his grandfather's associates.
And when Adrian looked at her…
She matched the figure in his memory.
Tall. Slim. Beautiful. The woman from that night? Maybe.
But cracks showed.
Something inside him whispered she wasn't the one.
So he continued searching.
---
Behind the scenes, Adrian's investigations triggered silent alarms.
The hotel CCTV had shown a woman with long, straight hair.
But Seraphina's natural hair was curly—thick, dark, untamed.
And the money…
Why would the daughter of a billionaire slip him a crumpled fifty-dollar bill, like paying off a cheap thrill?
None of it made sense.
Or was it one of her schemes, designed to make him chase her?
---
Still, Seraphina played her part flawlessly.
After avoiding him for months, she finally agreed to meet again.
And when she did, she claimed to be pregnant.
Adrian had stared at her that day, his mind reeling.
A pregnancy?
It complicated everything.
Before he could untangle the truth, his grandfather found out.
The old man had been delighted. A child from the Hart family—a perfect alliance.
Adrian hadn't been given a choice.
The engagement was arranged between the families. It was supposed to be private, but the media had gotten wind of it. Someone must have leaked it.
The press went wild.
Suddenly, they were the couple everyone envied.
Then, just as quietly, the child was gone.
A miscarriage, Seraphina had claimed, tears streaming down her face.
Adrian had felt… nothing. No grief. Only a hollow relief he dared not voice.
But life went on. The engagement became official. The wedding was planned.
When he hugged her after the miscarriage, something struck him—the woman from that night hadn't worn perfume, but Seraphina always reeked of an overpowering scent. Too strong. Too different.
And worst of all, she constantly spent weekends at his place. Couldn't she just stay at her own home?
But he needed her.
---
Later, in his office, Adrian flipped through the latest report from his private investigator.
Another dead end.
Another confirmation that Seraphina had been at the hotel that night. Her alibi was perfect, polished, unshakable.
But something still felt wrong.
The woman from that night had been raw. Untamed.
Seraphina was too smooth. Too practiced.
Yet every clue pointed to her.
Every lead. Every report. Every piece of evidence.
The noose tightened.
Somewhere out there, the woman who had branded his memory with a crumpled fifty-dollar bill still existed.
Faceless. Nameless.
But more real to him than Seraphina Hart could ever be.
Adrian closed the file with a snap. Enough chasing ghosts.
He decide to give up for good.
The woman with fire in her eyes… perhaps she never existed at all.
And yet, in the dark corners of his mind, he could still feel her, like smoke he couldn't catch.
Somewhere, she was out there.
And when fate brought her back to him—he would never let her slip away again.