Why Mourn What You Killed?

Night fell, and the neon lights of Fifth Avenue flickered to life.

Under their glow, Alexander's face looked as pale as paper. He couldn't say a single word.

I turned and walked away. "Sorry to interrupt your date. I wish you both happiness."

Suddenly, a cab swerved out of control and jumped the curb.

It was moving too fast. Before I could react, Alexander instinctively pulled me into his arms.

"Emma, look out!"

I froze.

The next moment, Sophia's shriek cut through the air. "Alexander! My foot!"

He let go of me instantly and rushed to her. His shove was rough. I slammed into a mailbox, scraping my elbow against the metal.

Blood soaked through my sleeve. The sting overlapped with an older, deeper ache.

Alexander had already scooped Sophia up and was frantically examining her ankle. "Damn it! It might be sprained. I'm taking you to the hospital. That bastard of a driver! I'll make sure he pays!"

I steadied myself on the mailbox and watched him disappear down the street, still carrying her in his arms.

The Belgrave night air was cold. I laughed, but my eyes were damp.

I had been his first instinct, but I wasn't his final choice.

If love couldn't stay constant, I no longer wanted it.

This time, I would live for myself.

…

The seventh day soon arrived.

Claire drove me to Astervale Airport in her Porsche. She wore sunglasses, but I could tell her eyes were red.

"Emma, I hate letting you go. But this is the right call. Romanov Corporation's green energy tech is exactly what the McKenzie Foundation needs. You're walking into this as the queen of negotiations, not a sacrificial lamb.

"I've also prepared you a little gift. Once you're gone, I'll make sure Alexander and that bitch get what they deserve. They'll remember this day for the rest of their lives."

I leaned back in the leather seat, a strange calm settling over me.

Today was the last day. My memories of Alexander were already fading, like trying to see through frosted glass. Soon, they'd disappear completely.

As we drove past Elmvale West Boulevard, I caught a glimpse of the Waldorf Astoria Hotel, its front drive lined with luxury cars.

Through the window, I saw Alexander helping Sophia out of a car. He was wearing a custom-tailored Valestre suit, and she wore a gown by Maison Verelle.

"Careful on the steps, Sophia."

In our past life, he had done the same for me—held my hand at every major event, attentive to every detail.

"Emma, you're my princess. I won't let you get hurt."

Now, watching him do the same for someone else felt like witnessing an absurd play.

The city's elite gathered around them, showering the golden couple with praise.

Softly, I said, "May you grow old together, and may we never meet again."

Claire slammed on the gas. "What scumbag and skank! They're a match made in hell."

As we turned the corner, our car passed Alexander's Rolls-Royce head-on.

He looked out the window, frowning. Something in his gut twisted.

But he quickly shook his head and muttered to himself, "There's no way Emma would be heading to the airport. She's the heir to the McKenzie family. She wouldn't agree to a political marriage.

"After today, I'll go to her. We'll start over."

…

Inside the Waldorf Astoria Hotel's grand ballroom, crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead.

Alexander held a glass of champagne but kept glancing toward the entrance, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

Moments before the engagement ceremony began, he summoned his assistant.

"Check Emma's schedule for today."

The assistant looked surprised. "Mr. Smith, Ms. McKenzie already departed for Droskav this morning as the family representative. She's attending the contract signing for the business alliance with Romanov Corporation. Her private jet took off ten minutes ago. Didn't you know?"