Chapter 5

Her expression softened slightly, and she nodded. "That's fine. His taste is decent."

When the design sketches were handed over, my hand shook and I almost couldn't hold the tablet.

Both tailcoats were designs I'd made in my youth.

Back then, we'd only been together a short while.

I still had a young man's mind, fantasizing about everything every day.

Fantasizing about the wedding, the wedding dress, life after marriage.

When my family discovered our relationship, my status-conscious parents firmly opposed it.

They never imagined that their always obedient and well-behaved son would dare to run away from home for a girl with no parents.

But they didn't understand.

She would write me an entire book of love poems.

She would point at classmates who made dirty jokes about me and curse them out.

She would save three months' wages to buy me shoes I'd mentioned in passing.

She would fight alone, in high heels and a skirt, covered in blood, when I nearly got kidnapped while drunk.

The doctor said if the knife wound on her chest had been an inch deeper, even the gods couldn't have saved her.

The young girl's love was intense, burning so hot I fell for her helplessly.

My parents were utterly disappointed and publicly announced they were disowning me, cutting off all my financial support.

Later we were busy making money, busy surviving.

When the business took off, she was busy cheating and I was busy catching her in the act.

Back and forth, the wedding we'd promised kept getting postponed.

Those two design sketches were also shelved, becoming unresolved regrets.

Now they'd become wedding clothes she was giving someone else.

I looked into her eyes. "Muriel, these are the tailcoats I designed."

She paused, then raised an eyebrow. "Name your price."

My nails dug into my palms, my voice hoarse. "They're different."

"What's so special about them?" She put her hands in her pockets, her tone impatient. "If Robinson didn't like them, they'd just be two pieces of waste paper."

I suddenly laughed.

I didn't know her memory was so poor.

She'd forgotten all the promises, wishes, and love.

All these years of bright lights and wine, money and pleasure—like a master thief.

Stealing away the Muriel whose heart and eyes were full of me.

"Please don't fight over me..." Robinson's eyes reddened.

Muriel panicked, about to comfort him, when she suddenly covered her mouth, her face turning pale.

"Ugh!"

I froze, a chill rising within me. This was a sign of pregnancy—I knew it all too well.

But ever since the abortion, she'd been with Robinson the whole time.

Whose child this was couldn't be clearer.

Sure enough, Robinson's expression changed instantly. He skillfully opened a thermos and fed her water.

"Are you tired?" He gently stroked her slightly rounded belly. "Muriel, let's stop shooting, okay? You and Niland both need rest."

He carefully picked her up and quickly left without giving me a single glance.

I stood frozen in place, thunderstruck.

Niland—that was the name of our first child.

After she miscarried that year, I was consumed with guilt, hating myself for not protecting her and the child. I couldn't sleep day or night and nearly became depressed.

Yet she casually gave this name to another man's child.

Life was truly absurd.

The staff noticed my distress and asked tentatively, "Mr. Leonardo, should we blacklist them from the hotel?"

I took a deep breath. "No need."

Let them enjoy the last glimmer of light before dawn.