Ex Had Childhood Sweetheart, I Had Brilliant Future

Damian and I have been together for five years. He's the heir to the Hartwell family, a family of old money, but he's incredibly devoted to me.

He planned a perfect trip to Iceland to see the Northern Lights, intending to propose.

He held me close and whispered, "They say couples who see the aurora together will be together forever. Nora, you and me -- never apart."

As the brilliant lights danced across the sky, I truly believed our love would last an eternity.

Then I saw him snap a photo and send it to Sophia with the message: "Wish you were here. Sending you some aurora magic."

I froze.

Sophie was Damian's childhood friend. The kind of woman who always draped herself all over him, and sent him provocative selfies in the middle of the night.

The next second, Sophia called on video. "Damian! I'm so dizzy... When are you coming back to keep me company?"

It was then I realized Damian had brought Sophia along on our proposal trip and was staying at the same hotel as us.

I turned around and made a phone call without hesitation.

"Mr. Parker, the three-year assignment to Germany you mentioned—I accept. Yes, the sooner the better."

But why has this Billionaire been searching for me all over the world for three years after I left?

The other end of the line was noisy — Vivian's laughter mingling with children's voices drifted through the phone.

Dominic was silent for a few seconds, then lowered his voice.

"Claire, don't do this. You know my hands are tied."

I'd been hearing that line for five straight years. The old me would've torn the world apart, demanding to know what excuse the almighty Harrington family could possibly have.

But now.

I pulled the blanket over my legs — long since stiff and unresponsive — and took a deep breath.

"If there's nothing else, I'm hanging up. I need to rest."

On the other end, Dominic was rushing out the door, his patience already wearing thin.

"I made you a promise, and I'll keep it. But the children are still young — taking them from their mother would hurt them. If you're so petty you can't even tolerate a couple of kids, how do you expect to run the Harrington household?"

"I have things to deal with. Think it over, and stop being so unreasonable."

The line went dead. For the first time, I didn't cry. I didn't scream.

I was about to wheel myself back to my room when the old symptoms flared up again.

A searing pain tore through my chest. I toppled from the chair and hit the floor hard, blood surging up my throat and choking off my voice. I tried to speak but couldn't stop coughing.

The medication was gone. I dug my nails into my palms, fighting to stay conscious. I forced out a few words.

"Call... call Dominic."

My caregiver Nora scrambled for the phone, hands shaking — but