Fake Amnesia, Real Betrayal: I Left, He Crawled Back

As expected, Elaine came to smooth things over afterward, solemnly handing Irene an equity agreement.

It transferred twelve percent of the shares under her name to Irene.

"What Sophie said isn't entirely untrue. We were close to her parents back then. The two of them grew up together, so it's natural their bond runs deeper than most."

She gently patted the back of Irene's hand, studying her noticeably thinner face with a hint of reluctance.

"When Ethan remembers everything, he'll make it right with you. For now, listen to me. Don't hold this against him."

Without a word, Irene withdrew her hand, her long lashes lowering to conceal what stirred beneath her eyes.

"If we really can't go on, would you take these shares back?" Irene asked.

"Of course not. This is your security." Elaine answered without hesitation, but Irene caught every flicker of avoidance in her eyes.

She knew Elaine didn't truly believe she and Ethan would ever sever ties completely.

So she accepted the agreement without objection.

Over the next few days, she secured an apartment overseas while beginning to sort out her personal assets back home.

Gordon had heard the news early and called relentlessly, frantic and desperate. She ignored every single call.

His messages swung between feigned humility and outright threats.

"Irene, listen to me. You need to know your place. Endure what you must. Without Ethan, you're nothing."

"So many projects are underway. The cash flow can't break now. Don't do anything stupid."

Each message that came in was deleted without a glance.

When Irene was twenty, after Gordon discovered she wasn't his biological daughter, he cut off all financial support overnight.

She remembered standing awkwardly outside the academic office, clutching her design drafts, helpless over tuition that amounted to only a few thousand dollars.

Back then, Gordon had done exactly what she was doing now, no replies, no answered calls.

If not for that man's appearance, her life would have veered onto an entirely different path.

That day had been drenched in heavy rain as well. Soaked through, Irene ended the final call and stood penniless at the end of the corridor.

From the far end, the man walked toward her, removed his wool coat still warm with body heat, and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"You're Irene? We've met before."

Her teeth chattered uncontrollably as he guided her inside. She watched, almost numb, as he signed with effortless ease.

"From now on, her tuition and living expenses will be covered by this card."

As he gave instructions to his assistant, he frowned slightly and reached out to tuck her disheveled hair behind her ear.

That night, she developed a high fever, the kind that strikes after days of strain finally give way.

Irene murmured weakly, "Why are you helping me?"

The man's hand rested against her forehead. "I promised your mother that if I ever could, I would take good care of you."

In the years that followed, she consulted him on every major decision.

The one thing she never told him was her decision to marry Ethan.

After the wedding, he disappeared from her life entirely, while Gordon came crawling back instead.

Ethan, unaware of the truth, fawned over Gordon as his father-in-law. Irene didn't bother to expose it.

In the blink of an eye, several years passed, and every relationship seemed to circle back to where it began.

"Valemont…"

Irene checked the distance between her apartment and his on the digital map. It was far, far enough to feel like their lives would never intersect again.

After successfully proposing, Ethan had once asked smugly, "Irene, was I the one who chased you the hardest?"

Irene gave a noncommittal nod.

In truth, he wasn't.

Long before him, Adrian Wells had already set a standard none of Ethan's efforts could surpass.

The difference was that Adrian never confessed, yet he always appeared after every storm, like a brilliant rainbow suspended above her moments of isolation.

After days of hesitation, she finally sent him an email. "You were right back then. I chose wrong again."