chapter 12

But the CEO's wife wasn't someone to be messed with. She spread the word in their circle that Juniper had an STD. After that, wealthy men recoiled in disgust whenever Juniper tried to get close.

Eventually, Juniper vanished completely from those elite circles.

After Olivia's death, Leander drowned his sorrows in alcohol for three years.

He had been the one whom Harlan Vance, his own father, had held the highest hopes for—the chosen successor to the family corporation. Now, it seemed that promise was ruined. Before Harlan passed away, he left the bulk of his estate to his wife, Fiona.

During those years, Leander lived in the bars, constantly accompanied by alcohol.

It was like he'd given up on himself. He stopped turning women away when they flocked to him for his money and name. But they soon discovered he was just an empty shell, and they'd leave out of boredom before long.

He saw Olivia again five years after the fire.

It was in his fourth year without her that Leander started drifting. He traveled to many places, saw many sights, and met many women who looked like Olivia—some had her eyes, others had her voice.

But no one had ever looked exactly like her—until now. This woman was her spitting image.

Olivia had used the fire as her chance to escape. After leaving Aurelia, she moved to a brand-new city.

She had no shortage of money and no grand ambitions, but she'd always had a soft spot for children. So, she started supporting an orphanage, working there as a quiet, anonymous volunteer.

That day, she was at the amusement park, gathering the children to head back. While waiting for the red light, her eyes met those of a man standing directly across the street.

It was Leander. She barely recognized him.

He looked twenty years older, unshaven, all the spirit gone from him.

Olivia had never imagined their reunion would look like this.

"Olivia, you're alive. It's you, isn't it?" Leander felt like he was in a dream, overwhelmed by both disbelief and wild joy. He reached out to touch her, to convince himself this wasn't a dream.

But the woman in front of him saw his movement and instinctively took a step back, creating a clear, cold distance.

Leander froze on the spot. He watched as his Olivia gave him a slow smile and said calmly, "It's been a long time, Leander."

From that day on, Leander showed up at the orphanage gate every single day. He wanted to see Olivia, but she refused. Left with no other choice, he just planted himself at the entrance, refusing to leave until she came out.

His Olivia had always had such a soft heart, he thought.

But this time, he was wrong.

On the fifth day of his stubborn stand, a discreet but expensive car pulled up to the orphanage gate. Several people got out, including an older woman who carried herself with an air of effortless wealth and grace.

They had no trouble taking away Leander, who looked more dead than alive.

Now, from where I stood.

Finally, the elegant woman walked into the orphanage and sat down across from me.

"Olivia. You look so much better than before."

I was seeing Fiona again.

I saw Fiona again five years after she helped me escape.

This time, I'd contacted her because I couldn't take Leander's pestering anymore. Small towns talked, and gossip could ruin a life.

We sat together, drinking tea all afternoon, neither of us bringing up the past five years. She seemed well, living the life she wanted. I was well, too, content and at peace.

After we finished the pot, I walked her out.

Watching Fiona walk away, I suddenly remembered our conversation from five years earlier.

I had asked her why she helped me.

She'd said, "Leander took after his father completely in character. I loved his father, so I put up with it—watching him be sweet to one woman after another, then come home to me full of guilt. Eventually, I started to wonder—if I'd made a different choice, would my life be better now?"

I thought now, she had her answer.

And of course, I understand it might also have been her way of getting back at both of them—father and son, cut from the same cloth. But it didn't matter anymore.

I'd pick up my backpack again, head toward my next journey, and keep living my new life.