When Love Falls Into Sorrow

The day I began working, I found out that the boyfriend I’d picked up off the street was actually a rich young man from the capital’s elite circle.

His fiancée sneered at me, “You’re nothing but a bit of fun for us when we’re bored.”

“You didn’t really think you were some kind of heroine here to save him, did you?”

I was humiliated, my lips trembling.

I couldn’t forgive myself—how could I have spent half of my father’s lifesaving money to help him? I even dropped out of school, working three jobs every day, foolishly treating him as the second most important person in my life.

Later, my father passed away, leaving me all alone, so I left that city. But who would have thought that the young rich man who had toyed with me would go mad, searching for me all over the world for the next five years?

I was working a shift at the club, balancing a tray of drinks, when I spotted a guy who looked exactly like my boyfriend—Charles Jones.

The man was sprawled out on a couch, the center of attention among the city's elite, who were all trying to win his favor.

"Mr. Jones, I haven't seen you around in ages."

"Should I get some starlets to join us?"

The man did not respond; he just casually flicked a speck of red from his finger.

A bombshell in a tight dress leaned in close and murmured, "Mr. Jones, aren't I enough for you?"

In a flash, he grabbed her wrist, flipped the script, and pulled her into a fiery kiss.

Frozen in the corner, my mind went blank.

I kept repeating that the man could not be the same guy I met by chance on the street.

My Charles was all awkward kisses with soft gazes reserved just for me.

To prove it to myself, I snuck a text to Charles, who was supposed to be at a construction site.

Holding my phone with a racing heart, I watched as the man broke off the kiss and glanced at his phone.

The light from the screen cast a soft glow on his chiseled face.

A moment later, my phone buzzed.

[Summer, I'm hauling sandbags.]

[I'll score 30 dollars when I finish the job!]

Something inside me snapped, and I looked up, dialing his number without thinking.

The man in the club whispered for everyone to be quiet, and the room hushed.

He picked up the call, and that familiar, affectionate voice hit me.

"Summer?"

An icy wave washed over me.

I ended the call.

I had to face it—my Charles, the guy I thought was just a regular Joe, was the same Charles who commanded the room with his power and influence.

However, it made no sense to me.

Why did he choose to crash into my life on that torrential night?

Why did he disguise himself as a down-on-his-luck guy just to stay close to me?

In the heart of the