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Just like the evening breeze leaves no trace Novel Cover

Just like the evening breeze leaves no trace

In this modern billionaire romance, a delicate love story unfolds like a fleeting evening breeze. The narrative explores the complexities of high-society relationships, where deep emotions often remain hidden or unspoken. As the protagonists navigate a world of immense wealth and social expectations, they must decide if their connection is strong enough to endure or if it will simply vanish without leaving a single trace behind.
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Chapter 2

The villa was lavishly decorated, worth at least ten million.

She climbed the staircase. From behind a slightly ajar door came the sound of low, ambiguous moans.

Inside, two pale bodies were pressed tightly together.

"Be gentle. I haven't finished my period yet."

Roger kissed Catherine deeply, his eyes holding a tenderness Carolyn had never seen before.

"Don't worry, I won’t cross that line. Just be good—I’ll hold you, that’s all."

Catherine pouted. "And when you get too worked up? You’ll still run back to your wife."

A flash of impatience crossed Roger’s eyes.

"I don’t want to touch her. The only time I’m with her is out of obligation. Usually, just the sight of her feels dirty."

Carolyn stumbled back two steps. A sharp, sickening pain lanced through her heart.

Soon, a voice message arrived from Catherine: "You saw, didn’t you? He’d rather just *hold me* while I’m on my period than go back and *lay a finger on you*."

"You probably don’t know this, but we actually had a child before. It was just a miscarriage."

Carolyn’s heart ached until it went numb.

How could she not know?

The reason Roger had written that divorce agreement—the one demanding she leave with nothing—was because Catherine was pregnant.

She typed out a line and sent it.

"As you wish. I don’t want this man anymore."

Carolyn went to a law firm and drafted a new divorce agreement. She didn’t ask for much—just an equal split of assets.

If it really went to court, Roger was the at-fault party. He’d only lose more.

But she didn’t want to turn this marriage into a war. She just wanted out of the whole mess.

The immediate priority was getting Roger to sign.

She sent Catherine another message.

"If you can get him to sign the divorce agreement, he’s yours."

Two days later, Roger came home.

He looked well, with the satisfied air of someone who’d been well-fed. But his gaze toward Carolyn remained as indifferent as ever.

"What’s wrong? You look listless."

Carolyn was taken aback, then shook her head. "It’s nothing."

Just then, a knock came at the door.

"Your seventh-anniversary flowers. So sorry—the blue roses were out of stock the day before yesterday. Delivering them now. Happy anniversary!"

A huge, lavish bouquet of deep blue roses was thrust into Roger’s arms.

He froze, then turned back with a look of surprise. "I’m sorry, I forgot the day before yesterday was our…"

Carolyn gave him a cold look. "Too little, too late. That ship has sailed."

With a slightly placating air, Roger reached for her hand. "Alright, it’s just a late bouquet. Don’t look so stern. Work was busy—I forgot. I’ll make it up to you."

Carolyn ignored him, casually setting the flowers on the table.

Roger was stunned. That flicker of guilt vanished instantly.

"Carolyn, you’re not usually like this."

Her footsteps halted. She turned to look at him.

"Oh? And how *am* I supposed to be?"

Utterly submissive? Obedient to his every word? Grateful for his promise to "make it up" to her?

"It’s just an anniversary, not Christmas. Is the formality that important?"

"Alright, alright," Roger waved impatiently. "I’ll make it up to you today. Change your clothes—we’re going to the mall."

With that, he turned and went downstairs.

A hot surge of resentment welled up inside her.

Still, she thought, perhaps it was best to talk things through clearly.

She hadn’t expected that just after entering the elevator, all the lights would go out.

Carolyn’s heart leaped into her throat. Frantically pressing the alarm button did nothing.

She called Roger, but his line was constantly busy.

Then a text arrived.

"Something came up last minute. Wait for me at home."

Carolyn was stunned. Immediately after, a message came from Catherine.

"Sis, my cramps are killing me. He’s coming over to massage my stomach. Looks like your anniversary is ruined again."

Her blood ran cold.

She had claustrophobia. And with the elevator malfunctioning, it could drop at any moment!

Desperately, she sent message after message to Roger.

"Roger, I’m trapped in the elevator! Please call property management—I don’t have their number!"

"Roger, save me! It’s too dark in here! Please!"

But for a long time, he didn’t reply.

A loud rumbling sound reached her ears. The elevator suddenly plummeted.

Carolyn screamed—and lost consciousness.

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