From Lucian's mother's perspective, he had loved me for years. As for me, I had no idea.
All I knew was that the Ferguson family's financial troubles required Lucian's company to invest in them. This marriage had been arranged by Lucian's late grandfather. It was purely a business union, as they often were.
Lucian, the heir to the family, was cold and distant, never smiling. His methods were ruthless and his style of leadership fierce. In just two years, he had subdued many of the senior members of the Ferguson family, becoming the unquestioned leader of their company.
His mother said Lucian believed I hated him, and hated the children we had been forced to raise.
I remembered how, not long after we married, I had tried to be a good wife. Lucian would often be out late with business affairs, so I would curl up on the couch, waiting for him to come home so I could offer him a warm cup of milk.
But when he took the milk, he frowned slightly, and with a neutral tone, said that the Lucian household had servants for these things.
He turned away, never looking back.
I was left standing barefoot on the cold marble floor, feeling awkward and like a fool.
Every time I tried to get close, he pushed me away.
Until eventually, all the warmth I had left inside me had been extinguished. We lived under the same roof but had become strangers.
I never entered Lucian's study, nor did I know that inside, there was a hidden room. Gray curtains covered the windows, blocking out all light. The walls were covered with photos of me.
From my youth, to when I was pregnant with his children, to the day I left Lucian Manor, suitcase in hand, without a backward glance.
It was inexplicably chilling and sorrowful. I didn't even have time to consider where these photos had come from.
Lucian's mother handed me a wooden box with a tarnished copper lock. I used a hammer to break it open. Inside, there were stacks of yellowed letters—letters he had never sent.
The youthful, humble yet passionate crush had no place to hide.
Yet, I had no memory of it.
"He was diagnosed with depression a long time ago. This is the result of his illness, honey. You shouldn't blame yourself. I'll take care of the children, you just keep moving forward like you planned."
"He never wanted to trap you with the children."
In the darkened room, I opened a bottle of whiskey, and, half-dazed, lay on the wooden floor, staring at the wall where my every expression and smile were captured, feeling strange and absurd.
I wanted to scream at him—Lucian, you bastard.
Why did you have to die now, of all times? Why did you choose to take your life when I had finally decided to leave everything behind, without even taking the children? It was hard not to think he did it on purpose.
On purpose, to punish me for abandoning him, to make me feel guilty and restless for the rest of my life.
The thought of this made me throw the whiskey bottle aside. Stumbling to my feet, I booked a flight to Australia again. I, Marie, wouldn't let him have his way.
For the next decade, I traveled the world with his money, living a life filled with love alongside my destined partner, Ferdinand Valmont. We cherished each other, hand in hand.
Each new place became a photo op for my social media—bold, unfeeling, showing the world that without Lucian, my life was radiant and complete.
Lucian's friends, my parents—they called me cold-hearted and refused to visit Lucian's grave, nor did they care for the children. They only blamed me, focusing on their own grief.
I paid no attention to them. Let them curse all they wanted. I never returned to the country.
If Lucian could abandon the children, why couldn't I?
Then, during a hiking trip in the mountains of Northern California, a heavy storm hit. I never made it back. While taking cover under the trees, with so many others around, a lightning bolt struck me.
As I lost consciousness, I thought, maybe the heavens couldn't stand my cold, heartless behavior either, and decided to take me themselves.
I never expected that when I woke up, it would be on the night of my new marriage to Lucian.
Lucian's family manor—everything in sight was festive. Pink curtains adorned the windows, with roses blooming outside, the very style I loved.
Lucian, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, proud and aloof, was standing with a stern face, laying down the rules for our marriage. "Miss Ferguson, you must understand, this is a business alliance, not a love match. Our relationship is based on benefits, not emotion."
