10 For days, Clint had been lost in the debauchery of his birthday party on a cruise. By the time he returned to the villa, it was already noon, three days after I had left. The staff were long gone, each sent away with severance pay. The Flemings' grand villa now stood hollow and empty. At last, his figure appeared on the hidden camera I had deliberately set up in the side bedroom. slid into a warm, medicinal bath, lifted the rose tea that the maids had prepared earlier, and with a small gesture, dismissed them from the room. Opening my laptop, I fixed my eyes on the security feed. hadn't left that camera behind for nothing. t was only for that one sentence that Clint had once spoken. If I lose you, Soleil, I won't survive." wanted to see what exactly did "won't survive" look like? le didn't notice anything wrong until he saw the bare, deserted room. lis fingers trembled as he opened the jewelry box on the desk. Out slid the medical diagnosis nd the divorce papers, weightless as fallen leaves. Only then did that jerk finally understand. was only then that panic hit him, and he began to search for my presence. Soleil?!" Someone tell me where Soleil went!" lis eyes burned red as he tore the reports and agreement to shreds. he scraps fluttered down like snow, scattering across the floor. dette appeared, late as always. The moment she saw Clint slumped in despair, she froze ir hock. Clint? What's wrong?" lis voice was broken, almost incoherent. "Soleil knows..." dette blinked in confusion, still trying to piece things together. "She knows what?" She knows the truth-that I'm infertile. She knows she's healthy. She knows I've been lying to er all along..." Vhat startled me most, watching from afar, was not his confession but his sincerity. He had really intended to deceive me for a lifetime. So when he realized I'd already known the truth, his collapse looked as if the sky had caved in. But remorse, when it came too late, meant nothing. Clint," Odette whispered, her eyes shining with tears, "so what if she knows? Isn't this a chance o divorce her... to marry me instead?" 'Shut up." His face darkened, turning cold. "Who said I want a divorce from Soleil?" Her eyes brimmed with glittering tears. Her nails dug deep into her palms until the skin dented. The pink diamond ring on her finger-the one he had slipped onto it-suddenly seemed dull, no more than a useless accessory. "Clint! My birthday wish was for you to marry me. Didn't you already agree? You even gave me an engagement ring!" "The fuck, Odette?! Only a fool like you would take those words seriously!" The words struck harder than any slap could. She had never thought of herself as a lovesick fool. To her, marrying into wealth with her beauty was a creed, a strategy. Every step she took was calculated, every smile measured. She had even reduced herself to the role of a mistress, disfigured by scandal, all for the dream of becoming a wealthy man's wife and escaping her humble countryside roots. And yet, in that instant, Clint's words pierced her heart. She obviously couldn't accept that he had never intended to marry her. Even less could she bear the fact that she had lost to me. She watched Clint, distracted and restless for another woman. I could tell she almost ground her eeth to the roots. Clint, are you saying that even with me and your baby together, we still can't compare to Solei n your heart?" The question tugged his slipping sanity back for a moment. But his patience for Odette had long worn thin. I told you to move back home. Why are you still here?" I..." Her voice trembled with grievance. She had never imagined my departure would turn Clint into someone she no longer recognized. But all he seemed to feel was irritation. No matter how hard he racked his brain, he couldn't fathom why I had left without a word. The nausea of his hangover probably burned up his chest because he demanded, "Make me some hangover soup." 'What?" Odette stared at him blankly. 'I said, make me some hangover soup." "Hangover soup? I... I don't know how..." His eyes stared at her in utter disappointment, his heart probably giving a violent jolt. He probably remembered me. Every time he'd drunk himself sick in the past, it was me who boiled the soup and carried it to him with her own hands. But then, he probably remembered, too-how he had made her fall down the stairs from such a height, how her leg had snapped beneath her. For the first time, he looked like a stab of guilt pricked his chest. Because this time, he had gone too far. My anger, my defiance-it was only natural. I bet he was thinking that all he had to do was apologize and offer me a few black cards and a stack of checks. I bet he thought I loved him so deeply that I wouldn't leave him for good. He was always sure I would forgive him. At that point, he shouted, "Where is Soleil?!" 3:18 pm