Chapter 1

Colton Ashford stared at the message from the unknown number and suddenly laughed.

"Baby, so you've learned how to make me jealous now."

He held his phone up, then rose and pulled me into his arms.

"It's my fault, okay? You've put up with me ninety-nine times without throwing a fit — I should've known you'd finally snap."

"I didn't snap," I said, pushing him away. "I'm genuinely breaking up with you."

"Ha!" He draped his arm around my shoulders. "Alright, baby, I know I messed up. Ninety-nine times, and you never made a scene — of course I have to take some responsibility. That's why I came back, to make it up to you."

A gift box appeared in front of me.

I opened it. Twelve pigeon-blood rubies, perfectly arranged, gleamed up at me.

"Last year around this time, you said whoever bought you those Mogok sunrise rubies — you'd marry him." He paused. "Twelve stones, one for each month. Do you like a year's worth of effort?"

Colton suddenly dropped to one knee, a diamond ring appearing in his hand.

At the same moment, doors to every room flew open. Our mutual friends set off confetti poppers, cheering:

"Happy 25th birthday, Clara!"

"Say yes! Say yes!"

I was completely blindsided.

Burmese rubies from Mogok — the last auction price had been in the eight figures. I'd only said it offhandedly. He actually remembered?

Confetti drifted into my hair. Colton took my hand and slipped the diamond ring onto my finger.

"Clara, I've been waiting for this day for a long time."

His phone rang.

He answered, and the smile froze on his face.

I heard Vivienne's furious voice clearly through the speaker:

"Who told you you could propose? I only said you had three days of freedom! You forget to bring me a gift, fine — but then you go and propose to her? Did you ask my permission? Where do I even rank with you?!"

Colton went still.

He reflexively glanced toward the group of mutual friends. One of them — who'd been filming and sharing it live — immediately lowered his phone, hand jerking awkwardly.

Colton shot him a furious look, then yanked the ring off my finger, turned, and walked out.

"Hey — Colton!" someone called.

"What about Clara?"

"Forget it! Everyone out!"

Someone glanced at me, shook his head, and snapped the velvet box shut, lifting the rubies away.

"Thought maybe he was finally serious this time." A smirk. "Guess some people just don't have that kind of luck."

"Ha — you think he's going to grovel to Vivienne now? She's really furious this time."

"Goes without saying — those stones'll be Vivienne's consolation prize."

That evening, Vivienne posted on Instagram.

A story showed the twelve rubies dumped into a trash can, captioned:

Something filthy's been touching these. I don't want them. Hmph. 🤧

Moments later, a second post appeared on her feed.

In the photo, twenty-four sapphires of exceptional quality sparkled in a bespoke velvet box. Vivienne's slender fingers rested on the lid, her ring finger adorned with a Tiffany custom solitaire:

Red is so gauche. Blue is far more refined. And since a certain someone used their once-in-a-lifetime custom ring on me — I suppose I'll forgive you. Barely. 💅

Colton liked it:

Thank you for your grace.

Their mutual friends piled on with ninety-nine likes.

In the past, I probably would've cried and demanded an explanation. But this time, I simply double-tapped and unfollowed Vivienne. Then I blocked every mutual friend on the list.

The unknown number pinged again:

Clara — I want you to know, my reason for switching to a matching profile picture with you wasn't just to take your side. Actually, I... Clara, do you understand what I mean?

I paused. Sighed.

Thank you. I understand. And I'm genuinely grateful for your support. But I'm done with relationships for now. I'm going to take the company's overseas offer. For the next few years, all I want is my career.

A long silence on the other end.

Then, finally:

I support you. But remember — if you ever need me, I'm here.

I sent back a grateful GIF. A warm feeling settled in my chest.

We'd be working together once I was abroad. I'd find a way to repay him through work.

That night, I packed my things.

There wasn't much.

The apartment — Colton's.

The renovation — Colton paid for it.

The appliances — Colton bought them.

Beyond my personal belongings, I had nothing to take.

Perhaps that was why, across five years and a hundred betrayals, all I ever had was the quiet ache of having nothing to show for it.

I left our home that night and checked into the company's temporary hotel, counting down the week until my departure.

But just as I was heading down to the first-floor pool — towel and swimsuit in hand — someone grabbed me from behind.

"Hey! Clara, you're here after all!"