Part 3His Secret Backer

When I returned home, the sky had already turned dark.

We lived in a two-story, old-fashioned townhouse nestled in a residential area near the pier.

The house wasn’t large, only about one hundred square meters. Harrison’s second-hand sedan, which he had driven for several years, was parked in the yard.

This place was very close to the customs office, chosen solely for Harrison’s convenience in commuting to and from work.

To look after his pride, I hadn't told him I possessed a manor of several thousand square meters in Narshe, complete with a full staff and bodyguards.

I left the manor uninhabited to squeeze into this tiny house with him, living with his parents day in and day out.

Originally, I had planned to reveal my identity to him after the wedding. Looking at it now, though, there was no need.

With a single phone call, several black business vans pulled up outside the door in less than twenty minutes.

My assistant, James, brought my men inside, and they methodically organized my belongings.

Clothes, jewelry, documents… each item was packed into boxes.

Watching the traces of my life vanish bit by bit, I stood in the living room, my heart devoid of any emotion.

Right at this moment, the phone rang once again.

"Lola, transfer fifty thousand dollars to me. Mandy's eyeing a bag, and I promised to buy it for her."

His tone was a matter of course, without even a single sentence of preamble.

I fell silent for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed.

"Harrison, are you certain you want to borrow money from me just to buy a gift for another woman?"

The other end of the line went quiet for an instant, and very quickly, his tone turned heavy.

"Lola, when did you become so petty? It's Mandy's first time going abroad, so what's wrong with me giving her a gift? Can you stop letting your mind wander?"

I questioned back in a light voice.

"So, you feel this is very normal?"

His voice carried impatience as he said, "Lola, don't always assume the worst of people.

"Forget it, there's no reasoning with you. You'd simply make trouble out of nothing."

He hung up the phone. Looking at the darkened phone screen, my heart throbbed with a faint ache.

Over five years, the most expensive gift he had ever given me was merely a necklace worth a few hundred dollars. Now, he was actually willing to borrow money from me to buy luxury goods for another woman.

As if driven by some bizarre impulse, I clicked open Mandy's Instagram.

Her latest update had been posted half an hour ago.

The first photo was of the airport's VIP lounge.

Mandy sat before the floor-to-ceiling window, the table piled high with exquisite pastries and drinks.

The caption read:

[First time in an airport VIP lounge. Turns out it can be this comfortable before boarding. Thank you to Mr. Tucker for looking after me all along the way. Knowing I have a seafood allergy, he even specially accompanied me to pick out food all over again.]

In the comments section, quite a few colleagues left messages one after another.

[Mr. Tucker is way too considerate.]

[With this kind of treatment, if I didn't know better, I'd think he was her boyfriend.]

[So envious. It's true happiness to have someone look after you.]

Mandy offered no explanation, only replying with a shy face-covering emoji.

The second photo showed the spacious and comfortable seats of the first-class cabin.

She leaned against the leather seat with slippers at her feet. Champagne, caviar, and exquisite pastries set before her, while an endless sea of clouds stretched outside the window.

The caption read:

[First time flying first class. A long-haul flight doesn't have to be tiring at all. Thank you to Mr. Tucker for leaving the best seats for me, Mom, and Dad. Today truly feels like a dream.]

I stared at the photo, not shifting away for a long time.

Those three seats originally belonged to me and my parents.

The third photo was in a luxury boutique in the airport duty-free shop.

Mandy held a limited-edition handbag of the latest design, her smile exceptionally brilliant. Harrison stood before the checkout counter, lowering his head to input his credit card password.

The caption read:

[Thank you to Mr. Tucker for the gift. Since it's my first time going abroad, he said a girl always needs to buy something she likes as a keepsake, and that it's worth it no matter how expensive. So happy today.]

I slowly zoomed in on the photo.

The bank card beside the checkout counter was something I couldn't be more familiar with—Harrison's credit card.

I guess he wasn't without money. He was merely reluctant to spend money on me.

At this time, James walked over.

"Miss, everything is packed."

As the last suitcase was lifted onto the van, the house I had lived in for five years no longer contained anything belonging to me.

My phone rang once again, but this time I didn't answer.

A message very quickly popped up.

[Lola, did you book that seven-star hotel in Meridianna? Why can't the front desk find our check-in information?]

I ignored it.

An hour later, my phone began to ring frantically.

By this time, I had already returned to the manor and intended to have nothing to do with Harrison. So, I blocked him.

However, less than a minute later, an unfamiliar number called in.

Looking at the constantly flashing screen, I still answered.

Harrison didn't know whose phone he had borrowed, but his voice no longer carried his previous composure, even bearing a trace of trembling that couldn't be concealed.

"Lola, I just went to the wedding venue. Why did they tell me...

"The wedding has been canceled?"