Part 1Love Has Become a Dilemma

The day my mother, Amelia, married Arthur Cullen, his father, Danny Dant was drunk. His eyes, bloodshot and raw, fixed on me.

"Joanna Cole," he slurred, "was letting your mother marry into wealth your only purpose for being with me?"

"Fine! Just fine!"

In that moment, the damaged boy I had so desperately tried to save turned to hate me completely.

He didn't break up with me.

But from that day forward, he changed, bringing different women home every single night.

Now, he had set his sights on the new secretary.

This time, though, it was different. Three months had passed, and he still hadn't ended things with me.

On New Year's Eve, I saw them both at a Michelin-starred restaurant.

I was working late, closing a deal.

He and Chloe Dant were having a candlelit dinner.

Ten years of shared love, yet we sat at adjacent tables, like strangers.

I spoke eloquently, smiled politely, but the client’s hand grazed mine with an unwelcome familiarity, implicitly offering a hotel room key.

Just as the situation hung in an awkward stalemate, a sudden BOOM ripped through the air outside. Fireworks exploded across the night sky.

DANNY DANT LOVES CHLOE DANT

In that moment, I looked at Danny.

My heart plummeted.

He had won.

After the meeting, I turned and made a call.

"Mom, I agree to break up with him. Arrange for me to go abroad next week."

* * *

Still on the phone, I walked aimlessly through the streets.

The last night of the year was unusually cold. Sleet fell, and the wind howled, piercing straight to the bone. As the New Year's bells chimed, cheers erupted from passersby. I followed the sound, and across the digital screen of Cullen Tower, a line of text scrolled brightly.

"Wishing Cullen Corp's most beautiful and capable fairy, Chloe Dant, a Happy New Year."

On the first day of the New Year, that name still lingered relentlessly. The envious murmurs of strangers reached my mother through the phone. She seethed. "This is too much! I'm going to talk to Arthur about it."

"No need, Mom. I'm leaving anyway."

I hung up, detached, no longer gasping for air from the pain. Only when the ride-sharing app showed a two-hour wait did a strange irritation bubble up.

A discordant honk broke through the silence. Danny's car pulled up, following me at a discreet distance. Chloe leaned out of the passenger window, greeting me with an exaggerated warmth.

"Joanna, heading home?"

"Mmm," I replied flatly.

She feigned elaborate sympathy, practically plastered against Danny. "Oh, it'll take ages to get a cab tonight! We're going the same way, but Alaric sent so many gifts, the back seat is completely full. Otherwise, we could have given you a ride."

I stopped, peering through the car window. A massive bouquet of flowers indeed occupied most of the back seat. Before I could look closer, a suit jacket was flung hard at my face. I instinctively caught it, and Danny's disdainful scoff reached my ears.

"Cover up that reek of alcohol. You smell disgusting. Don't go stinking up the place and getting complaints to the company."

The stiff suit jacket stung my face. Watching Danny's tail lights disappear, I tossed the jacket – which I had personally ironed, now tainted with another woman's scent – into a roadside donation bin.

I didn't get home until three hours later. The house was brightly lit but empty. He must have gone out again. I thought I was used to it. But as the bathroom filled with steam, and the ambiguous handprints on the mirror misted over, the alcohol in my stomach churned uncontrollably, mixing with tears as I vomited.

By the time I emerged from the bathroom, dawn was breaking. My phone showed two unread messages. One was a flight confirmation. The other was from Danny.

[Busy, not coming back.]

Scrolling up, our communication over the past year was sparse. More often, it was Danny's curt [Busy] after I had frantically dialed countless unanswered voice calls. I instinctively clicked on Chloe's social media. As expected, a meticulously curated nine-panel grid. Nine hundred ninety-nine roses, New Year's fireworks… The centerpiece was a mirror selfie of her and Danny, embracing. I recognized the reflection; it was Danny's property on the west side of town. In the corner of the mirror, a faded sticker from a movie we once saw, a character from "Zootopia," was still stuck. It was now waterlogged and peeling, disgustingly limp.

Danny didn't come back for the next few days. My housekeeper was on holiday, leaving the vast house empty, with only the timely delivery of takeout reminding me of the passage of time. Spicy noodles, Kung Pao chicken, "blood curd" hotpot… When the fifth takeout box appeared on the table, I couldn't stomach it anymore. I swept them all into the trash, then took a photo and sent it to Danny.

[Don't order anymore. I don't like spicy food.]

The phone rang almost immediately. Danny's voice, husky and laced with an afterglow, was tinged with impatience. "Throwing a tantrum by starving yourself, are we? Fine. Just don't call me when you end up in the hospital again."

Chloe's playful, peacemaking voice chimed in. "Joanna, just try it! Alaric and I tried all these places, they're super delicious!"

"Ignore her. She can eat it or not."

I pressed my lips together, silently biting back the humiliating question I wanted to ask. Danny, you remember I have a stomach condition and need regular meals, but do you remember I ended up in the hospital because of spicy food? The words caught in my throat for a moment, before I finally replied, "I'll order my own."

"Ha, order your own?" Danny repeated, his tone ambiguous, then scoffed. "Joanna, you're not asking for food, you're just asking for money, aren't you?"