Chapter 4

Diana's POV

Damian practically shot up, reaching for his phone on the nightstand.

The screen lit up, showing the contact name as "Friend."

His expression changed. The lingering drunkenness and irritation were instantly replaced by urgency.

He threw off the covers and got out of bed, his movements almost frantic.

While hastily pulling on his jacket, he spoke rapidly to me.

"My friend has an emergency. I need to go. I'll be back soon."

I remained seated in the chair, unmoving, silent.

I knew whose number that was.

He thought he'd hidden it well, changing "Cecilia Martin" to this safe contact name, erasing all traces.

He didn't know-or didn't care-that I actually knew everything.

I just didn't care anymore.

Damian, fully dressed, walked to the door, then seemed to remember something and came back.

He leaned down and affectionately kissed my forehead.

"Wait for me."

His breath brushed against my skin, tickling.

"I'll be back soon. Tomorrow I'll take you to meet the person in charge."

"Your parents' situation-we need to talk face-to-face to have any room for negotiation."

After saying this, without another glance at me, he turned, opened the door, and his figure quickly disappeared into the dim hallway light.

I slowly raised my hand, touching the spot on my forehead that still seemed slightly damp, and smiled.

Be back soon?

Every time he received a call from Cecilia, he said the same thing.

But every time, there was a different reason for him to stay there.

She was in a bad mood. She wasn't feeling well. Her electrical circuit broke. She had a nightmare...

I used to wait like a fool, from deep night until daybreak, from hope until heartbreak.

Damian clearly knew I was more afraid of the dark than Cecilia.

Because when I was young, my parents were busy with work and hired an irresponsible nanny.

That woman locked me in a dark, damp basement for hours at a time.

That terror of being swallowed by endless darkness was carved into my bones.

Before I met Damian, I never dared sleep with the lights off.

It was him, bit by bit, holding my hand and telling boring stories, who helped me through those endless nights.

So that later, I finally dared to turn off the lights and sleep peacefully in our bedroom.

But he seemed to have forgotten.

He only remembered that Cecilia was afraid of the dark-one phone call and he'd rush over to be the "hero" who dispelled the darkness.

The entrance became completely quiet.

I stood up and walked to the window, watching the familiar car below light up its taillights and quickly drive away.

We met at a charity gala.

Across the noisy crowd, he saw me at a glance, and I happened to look back.

That moment was just like a slow-motion scene in a movie.

Friends beside me sneered that Damian was just a poor nobody with no background, hardly worthy of me.

Even my parents firmly objected, afraid I'd suffer with him.

But I was so foolish, so brave then.

I threw myself at him without hesitation, moved into the shabby little apartment he rented.

And he was truly good to me once, wholeheartedly good.

When his salary was meager, he could hand it all to me without keeping a cent.

He had no bad habits. Wherever he went, he reported to me, openly introducing me to everyone as "my wife, Diana."

He handled all the housework. Even after running around all day, coming home late at night, he'd draw hot water to wash my feet.

The most heart-stopping time, I was taken hostage by criminals, my life hanging by a thread.

He stepped forward without hesitation, offering to exchange himself for me.

In the end, I was unharmed, but he took several stab wounds and struggled in the emergency room for three days and nights before barely surviving.

With this life-risking devotion, he finally passed my parents' test.

In our family's small garden, he knelt on one knee, offering all his savings.

He was so nervous his palms sweated, his words clumsy but sincere.

"Diana, I'm not good with fancy words, but everything I have is yours."

I cried uncontrollably, thinking I'd grasped the most solid happiness in the world.

But what happened later?

Later, this same man who once loved me like life itself gently explained to me when bringing Cecilia here.

"Cecilia is a girl living alone. Dorms aren't safe, and the environment is complicated."

Then he took almost all the savings we'd built together over the years.

And he bought Cecilia a nice house. Cozy. Beautiful.

The favoritism was so blatant, it was almost beyond belief.