Endless Night, Swaying Hearts

Caden had made it clear that he didn't feel for Victoria romantically. So for the past three years, she had been the only one who'd foolishly invested real emotions into a play that he'd put up single-handedly.

She stood frozen in place, staring down at her empty hand. The warmth of Caden's wrist still lingered, but now it burned like a branding iron against her skin.

The very next second, she snatched an expensive bottle of whiskey from the table and smashed it to the floor with all her might.

Everything in her line of sight—glasses, fruit platters, decorations—anything that could be broken became a sacrifice to her agony.

The people in the private room were stunned into silence. No one dared step forward to stop her.

She didn't know how long it lasted. Eventually, her strength gave out. She stood there, eyes hollow, face streaked with tears, yet a low, broken laugh escaped her lips. She had no recollection of how she even left the club.

Outside, the night wind hit her wet cheeks, cold and sharp. She brushed the tears off her face roughly, flagged down a taxi, and rasped, "Follow that car up ahead."

She had to see for herself who exactly this first love whom he carried in his heart for three years, the one she could never measure up to, was.

The taxi driver, noticing the state she was in, asked no questions and simply stepped on the accelerator to catch up with the car up ahead.

Caden, who was always so composed and drove with measured precision, was noticeably speeding tonight. Was he really that eager to see his past flame?

The car finally stopped at the arrivals level of an international airport.

Victoria paid the fare, stumbled out, and hid behind a pillar.

She watched as Caden stood at the exit. Then, a woman in a flowing white dress, gentle and delicate in bearing, emerged, pulling a suitcase behind her.

When Victoria saw the woman's face, she felt as if lightning had struck her twice over. It wasn't just because Caden opened his arms the instant the woman rushed toward him, catching her steadily and lowering his head to press a tender kiss to her hair with such tenderness.

But rather, it was because the woman he held so preciously in his embrace was none other than Cassandra Calloway—Victoria's so-called older sister, the person she despised most in this world, and the one she never wanted anything to do with.

Years ago, not even six months after Victoria's mother, Eunice Monroe, died in a car crash, her father, Hugh Calloway, had brought another woman home. That woman, Marjorie Cole, came with a daughter three years older than Victoria, and she was Cassandra.

Hugh had explained that Marjorie was his first love and that Cassandra was his biological daughter. If Eunice hadn't forcibly taken him away back then, he never would have let his pregnant first love leave him.

How ridiculously absurd that was.

Victoria knew the truth better than anyone else.

Back when Hugh was starting his business and desperate for funds, when he was barely able to afford meals, he had been the one who went to Eunice, who had pursued him for years. He promised to marry her in exchange for the Monroe family's investment.

So, Eunice gave him the money and all of her love. And eventually, in that fatal car crash, she even gave her life to push him out of harm's way.

Yet, what came of it? Eunice's body had barely gone cold when Hugh used her wedding gift and inheritance to marry his so-called first love.

Caden could have loved anyone. Why did it have to be Cassandra?

Victoria bit down hard on her lower lip until she tasted blood, but she didn't even notice.

In her moment of shock, Caden had already taken Cassandra's suitcase and wrapped an arm around her waist, guiding her toward the parking lot.

As if possessed, Victoria hailed another cab and continued following them.

Due to the close proximity, she could see clearly through the window how Caden turned to speak softly to Cassandra in the car ahead.

He even reached over, with natural familiarity, to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. That kind of meticulous tenderness was something Victoria had never received in all their three years together.

She felt as though her heart were being crushed slowly between millstones, the pain so sharp she found it almost impossible to breathe.

She was still staring ahead, vision blurred by tears, when disaster struck at the next intersection.

Screeching brakes and the sound of impact tore through the night.

The taxi Victoria was in slammed into the car in front without warning, and then it was violently rear-ended by the vehicle behind with a deafening bang.

The massive impact hurled Victoria forward. Her forehead smashed against the back of the front seat. Agonizing pain exploded through her skull as warm blood instantly poured down, clouding her sight.

Amid the chaos and screams, through the shattered window, she saw the door of the familiar car swing open.

Caden stepped out first. He hurried around to the passenger side, carefully lifted Cassandra out, and cradled her in his arms. He examined her for injuries, brows knitted tightly, his face filled with unmistakable pain.

Holding Cassandra, he turned to leave the scene. But his steps halted briefly, and his gaze, by sheer chance, locked with Victoria's. She was trapped in the mangled backseat of the taxi, bloody and broken.

In his eyes, which were always calm and unruffled, she caught a fleeting flash of clear shock. But it vanished in an instant.

Cassandra, nestled in his arms, seemed to sense his brief pause. In her soft, feeble voice, she murmured, "Caden, what's wrong? Did you see someone you know? I'm fine. It's just a small scrape. If it's someone you recognize, you should go check on them… I heard a taxi was hit really badly…"

After a few seconds of silence, Caden looked away from Victoria. "No, I don't know them. They are of no importance."

With that, he held Cassandra tighter and strode away from the wreckage without a backward glance.

Watching his resolute retreat, Victoria wanted to laugh, but tears mixed with blood streamed down her face.

Of no importance. So after all these years, he had only ever viewed her as someone of no importance.