Pages that nearly tore, each one densely filled with Phoenix's name.
Neat and graceful handwriting, though irregular, followed the whims of her heart.
Each stroke bore the weight of longing.
"Nightingale Corporation's downfall makes me completely unworthy of Phoenix now. All I can do is wish him happiness."
The date marked her return, followed by sparse entries.
The scattered notes from her time abroad mostly chronicled trivial matters, each somehow tied to Phoenix.
She never stopped loving Phoenix, but her maturity made her acutely aware of others' emotions, interpreting every glance and word.
When Phoenix was kind to her, she shamelessly clung to him. When he don't like her, she stepped back a hundred paces, not wanting to inconvenience anyone.
"Why didn't you say anything, Serena..."
Tears stained the pages as Phoenix hastily wiped them, fearful of smudging the precious words.
Her scarless skin, it was to avoid his disdain.
Phoenix couldn't bear to read further, carefully putting everything away. A hand covered his face, tears slipping through his fingers, uncontrollable.
"Mr. Lee, those who harmed Mrs. have been dealt with. Mr. Chesterfield has found out about the brakes—it was Miss Monahan. Should we take action against her?" Lucas, heartbroken and helpless, saw no vitality in Phoenix.
He had joined Phoenix in his darkest hour and witnessed his greatest stress. Serena's silent departure had even bred resentment within Lucas.
Little did they know, it was all a calculated scheme!
"Leave it to him," Phoenix said dejectedly from the bed. "Also, there's a gift for him in Serena's box. Let him take it."
"Didn't expect you to become like this, Mr. Lee," Evan intruded uninvited, having anticipated Phoenix's descent into drunkenness but not the prolonged state.
"Mr. Chesterfield," Lucas greeted, then executed Phoenix's instructions, personally handing a small box to Evan.
"If there's nothing else, you may leave. I hope after reading this, you'll handle Amelia appropriately, or else... the Nightingales will pursue this to the bitter end!"
Coldness flickered in Phoenix's eyes, a fierce aura swirling in his gaze.
Evan, intending to mock Phoenix with lines like 'Just a woman, revenge for her death should suffice, not worth this despair,' held back upon seeing Phoenix's demeanor. He took the box silently, opening it with downcast eyes.
"To Evan, happy birthday."
The familiar delicate handwriting greeted him, transcending time, long enough to make him believe he had forgotten Serena, forgotten that perpetually smiling face.
Yet, as memories flooded back, he realized they were etched too deeply to ever forget.
When did he start disliking Serena?
Every time he saw her trailing behind Phoenix, crafting gifts with her own hands, eyes that never seemed to see him.
Yes, he was jealous.
Jealousy morphed into hatred.
Even upon learning of Serena's death, he suppressed his emotions. Didn't he detest her? Her death was fitting; Phoenix deserved to grieve.
He merely needed to expose those who plotted against Serena, then continue living guilt-free.
One who paid him no heed didn't deserve his concern.
