Williams lost what little sanity he had left.
He tore through every contact, every connection, every favor he could possibly call in.
In less than a month, he had practically turned the entire country upside down.
But Suzy was nowhere.
It was as if she had vanished into air—no trace, no shadow, not even a rumor.
The more he searched, the more unhinged he became.
He snapped at the smallest things, lashed out without warning.
Executives at his company walked on eggshells, terrified of his unpredictable temper.
Anna tried to soothe him, to play her usual gentle, understanding role.
But the second he saw her face, she became the embodiment of that blood-red night lodged deep in his nightmares.
“Get out.”
He shoved her away so hard she stumbled, staring up at him in disbelief.
In his eyes, there was only coldness.
And disgust.
“If not for you,” he spat, voice shaking with hatred, “Suzy wouldn’t have left. My child wouldn’t be dead.”
Anna froze.
Only then did she realize—Williams had hidden the truth from her.
She had never known Suzy had lost the baby.
Her voice trembled as she cried, “William, I didn’t know… I swear I didn’t. I wasn’t feeling well that day, I didn’t mean—”
“Enough.”
He cut her off sharply.
“I don’t ever want to see you again.”
He threw Anna out of the villa that night.
The engagement he once thought unbreakable—canceled with a single call.
And then the rest of the truth came out.
It hadn’t been Suzy who “drove Anna away.”
Anna had left of her own accord—chasing her own future, her own ambitions overseas.
And as for his marriage to Suzy—
it had been arranged by his mother from the beginning.
The Su family had been struggling, yes, but Suzy had agreed to marry him not for business…
but because she loved him.
All the things he accused her of, all the resentment he’d piled onto her shoulders—
they had never been real.
It was all him.
His arrogance.
His bias.
His blind, self-righteous certainty.
He was the one who destroyed the woman who loved him most.
He was the one who killed their unborn child.
Five years passed.
In Paris, at one of the world’s most prestigious jewelry design competitions,
a new designer stunned the fashion world.
An Eastern artist who called herself “Jin.”
Her collection—titled *Nirvana*—took first place, igniting praise from every corner of the industry.
Under the bright white spotlight, the woman wore a simple black gown, elegance carved into her every movement.
Her eyes held a calm, quiet strength—the kind that only comes from surviving hell and walking out of it alone.
Watching from a television in his living room, Williams went still.
His breath stalled.
That face.
It was her.
Suzy.
The woman he had searched for, begged for, dreamed of every single night for five years.
She wasn’t dead.
She hadn’t broken.
She was thriving—more brilliant than he had ever seen her.
He booked the earliest flight to Paris without a second thought.
He needed to see her.
Tell her he was wrong.
Tell her he regretted everything.
Tell her he’d spend the rest of his life making it right…
if she’d let him.
Backstage at the gala banquet, Williams finally found her.
She was standing with a tall, refined man—Lu Zeyan, one of the judges, a world-renowned designer.
She laughed at something he said, the kind of soft, effortless laugh Williams hadn’t heard in years.
Jealousy sliced through him so sharply he could barely breathe.
He strode forward and grabbed her wrist.
“Jinjin… it’s me.”
His voice cracked like something inside him had shattered.
The smile vanished from her face.
When she turned to him, her eyes were cold, still, untouched by emotion—
like looking into a frozen lake.
She pulled her hand back gently.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, polite and distant, “you must have mistaken me for someone else.”
“I’m not mistaken!” he choked out. “You’re Suzy. Suzy, come back with me. Please—we can start over.”
She let out a quiet breath.
A humorless, almost pitying smile touched her lips.
“Mr. Williams,” she said, “my name is Jin. Not Suzy. And you and I… are strangers.”
She slipped her arm through Lu Zeyan’s, already turning away.
“Suzy!”
Williams lunged after her, losing control completely as he wrapped his arms around her from behind.
“Don’t go. Please—don’t leave me again.”
His body trembled violently.
His voice—hoarse, desperate—echoed through the room.
People around them stopped and stared.
Suzy’s expression turned ice-cold.
She broke free from his arms, meeting his eyes with a gaze sharp enough to cut bone.
“Williams,” she said, each word clear and merciless,
“the Suzy you knew died five years ago—
died in the hell you built with your own hands.”
Williams had been shredded alive by Suzy’s words—every syllable slicing straight through whatever dignity he had left.
But he didn’t stop.
Instead, he chased her with the kind of madness only a man drowning in regret could muster.
He bought the entire building her studio occupied.
Sent nine hundred and ninety-nine roses every single day, rain or shine.
Acquired companies that tried to collaborate with her—just for a chance to speak to her for five seconds.
And Suzy?
She didn’t even look at him.
She tossed his roses into the trash right in front of him.
Rejected every opportunity he tried to create for her.
He performed one desperate one-man show after another, but she wouldn’t spare him even a flicker of emotion.
Once, he stood outside her studio in a downpour all night long.
By morning, he was burning with fever and was rushed to the hospital.
He thought—stupidly, naively—that she would come.
That maybe she’d stand by his bed, look at him once, even if only out of pity.
But all he got was a check delivered by her assistant
and a message colder than any winter storm:
“For your medical expenses.”
He stared at that check from his hospital bed and laughed—an ugly, broken sound that hurt more than crying.
So this was what she had felt.
This was the pain he’d once handed her without hesitation.
And now, karma had come back for him.
—
Williams grew more unhinged by the day.
When he found out Suzy was returning home for her solo exhibition, he cleared his entire schedule and followed her across the globe.
Back in their home country, he stopped even pretending to be reasonable.
He used his power, his name, his influence—anything he had—to push away every man who tried to get close to her.
Including Lu Zeyan, the one who threatened him the most.
The day of the exhibition’s opening arrived.
Williams showed up uninvited, holding a bouquet of white moonlight roses—her old favorite—and waited at the entrance like a man hoping for a miracle.
Suzy stepped out of her car, saw him, and didn’t even flinch.
She walked right past him as if he were nothing more than a shadow on the pavement.
“Jinjin!”
He caught up to her, thrusting the roses out in front of her.
“These were always your favorite.”
She finally stopped.
For the first time that day, she looked at him—really looked.
Her gaze was cold, edged with a hint of mockery.
“You do have a good memory, Mr. Williams. But I don’t like them anymore.”
“Why not?”
She held his eyes, her lips curving into a cruel, elegant smile.
“Because when I see them… I remember things that are dirty. And it makes me… sick.”
Every word pierced him like a blade.
He knew exactly who she meant.
And what.
He stood there, humiliated, helpless, watching her walk into the venue surrounded by admirers—her back straight, her steps firm, her heart a thousand miles out of his reach.
Halfway through the exhibition, without warning, one of the massive crystal chandeliers above began to loosen.
People screamed, scattering in all directions.
Suzy stood directly beneath it.
“Move!”
Someone shouted, but it was too late.
Williams launched himself across the room with the speed of a man who had nothing left to lose.
At the exact moment the chandelier came crashing down, he wrapped himself around her, shielding her with his entire body.
The explosion of sound shook the entire hall.
Then—silence.
Blood poured from his back, warm and thick, soaking through his white shirt in seconds.
“Williams!”
Suzy’s voice broke, sharp with terror—his name tearing from her lips before she could stop it.
He lay across her, barely conscious, his breathing shallow.
But when he lifted his head to look at her, he smiled.
A quiet, peaceful smile.
“Jinjin… you finally… called my name…”
His trembling hand reached up, brushing her cheek—
a touch so soft it felt like an apology all on its own.
“I’m sorry… If I could trade my life… for our baby’s… I would… without hesitation…”
His hand slipped from her face and fell, limp, to the ground.
The world around them erupted into chaos again—shouts, footsteps, sirens—
but Williams heard none of it.
He had already fallen into darkness.