---- Chapter 10 When Liam burst into the now-empty ballroom, it wasn't Sarah he found. It was a simple cardboard box addressed to him, left with the hotel concierge. His hands trembled as he tore it open. Inside were all the cheap little gifts he'd given her. The twenty-dollar silver bracelet, the matching mugs, the stuffed bear. They were all there, tossed in like trash. On top of them was a single sheet of paper. It was the invitation to the engagement party. On the back, in her neat, simple handwriting, were a few words. "Liam, | hope you and Tiffany are very happy together. Goodbye. We won't see each other again." The air left his lungs. ---- The last sliver of hope in his heart shattered into a million pieces. She knew. She had known for a while. Her calmness, her strange acceptance of the invitation-it all made a horrifying kind of sense now. She wasn't there to be humiliated. She was there to say goodbye. He sank to the floor, the cheap bracelet cold in his hand. He remembered the two years he'd spent in that tiny apartment, pretending to be poor. He'd hated it at first, but slowly, he had gotten used to it. He had gotten used to her. He had come to love the simple life they shared, the quiet evenings, the feeling of her curled up beside him in that small bed. He had genuinely fallen in love with her. But that love was built on a lie. It was a beautiful, shimmering bubble, and he had just watched it pop, leaving nothing behind but the ugly truth of ---- his deception. He was like a man dying of thirst in the desert who finds an oasis, only to realize it was a mirage all along. He collapsed on the floor, a single, hot tear finally tracing a path down his cheek. He had lost her. He had lost everything that was real. He woke up in a hospital bed, his father's stern face looming over him. Tiffany and her parents were there, their expressions a mixture of anger and disappointment. "The wedding is canceled," Liam said, his voice hoarse, before anyone could speak. "It's over." Tiffany's father began to bluster, but Liam cut him off. "And | never want to see any of you again," he said, his voice cold. He looked directly at Tiffany. "And if | ever hear you speak Sarah's name again, | will ruin you. Get out." ---- They left. His own father tried to reason with him, but Liam was resolute. His first act after being discharged was to book a flight to London. His assistant had found out about the scholarship. He had to follow her. But his family stopped him. His father, furious at the public scandal, had him escorted back to the family estate and essentially placed under house arrest. He was confined to the house, his passport confiscated. He tried to fight, even went on a hunger strike, but his father was immovable. Finally, after weeks of a tense standoff, his father offered a compromise. "You want to go abroad? Fine. Go to our European headquarters. Learn the business. ---- Prove you are a Blackwood. After a year, if you still want to chase after that girl, | won't stop you." Liam, desperate, agreed immediately. He flew to London, his heart filled with a naive hope that she would see how much he'd changed, that she would forgive him. He found her easily enough. He waited outside her university dorm, his heart pounding with a mixture of hope and fear. And then he saw her. She was walking out of the building, laughing, her arm linked with a tall, kind-looking young man who was carrying her books. She looked happy. Genuinely, radiantly happy. Her face was fuller, her eyes were bright. She wasn't the pale, haunted girl he had last seen. She was thriving. He felt like a thief, a ghost from a past life, spying on a happiness he had no right to witness. ---- The longing was a physical ache in his chest. He waited until she was alone and approached her. "Sarah." She stopped, and when she saw him, her smile vanished. Her face became a polite, indifferent mask. "Liam," she said, her voice cool. "What are you doing here?" "| came for you," he said, his voice breaking. "Sarah, | know | don't deserve it, but | have to tell you. It may have started as a lie, but my feelings for you became real. | love you, Sarah. | truly love you." She listened, her expression unchanging. When he was finished, she simply shook her head. "No, Liam. You don't love me. You love the idea of me. ---- The longing was a physical ache in his chest. He waited until she was alone and approached her. "Sarah." She stopped, and when she saw him, her smile vanished. Her face became a polite, indifferent mask. "Liam," she said, her voice cool. "What are you doing here?" "| came for you," he said, his voice breaking. "Sarah, | know | don't deserve it, but | have to tell you. It may have started as a lie, but my feelings for you became real. | love you, Sarah. | truly love you." She listened, her expression unchanging. When he was finished, she simply shook her head. "No, Liam. You don't love me. You love the idea of me. ---- The idea of someone who would sacrifice everything for you. She gestured to a faint, silvery scar on her cheek, a remnant from the champagne glass incident. "Can you make this disappear? Can you undo the damage to my hand?" She looked him straight in the eye, her own gaze clear and hard. "Can you give me my kidney back?" Each question was a blow, leaving him speechless and devastated. "You can't," she said, her voice softening slightly, but with a finality that was absolute. "We are from two different worlds, Liam. The game is over. Go back to yours. Please, don't ever come here again. Don't disturb my life." She turned and walked away without a backward glance, leaving him standing there, utterly defeated. ---- He stood on that London street for a long time. Then, he booked a flight home. He had no right to bother her anymore. He had seen she was happy, and that was enough. He returned to the U.S. and threw himself into the family business. He became the ruthless, brilliant heir everyone expected him to be. He never married. He never even dated. He had changed, but the change came too late. Two years later, he saw an article in a financial journal. It was about a groundbreaking new academic research initiative, led by a brilliant young scholar who had just returned from the UK: Dr. Sarah Miller. He smiled, a sad, lonely smile. He picked up the phone. "| want to make an anonymous donation," he told his foundation's manager. ---- "One hundred million dollars. To Dr. Sarah Miller's new research project." It was the only thing he could do for her now. It was a debt he could never truly repay. It was his penance, and his final, silent goodbye.