Chapter 3

While he was showering, I walked out the door with my already-packed luggage.

Late at night, a couple was riding bikes while laughing and playing around.

I stood under the streetlight, watching until my eyes became blurry.

Perhaps my relationship with Adrian had never been equal.

The first time I met Adrian, he was already the lofty flower on the snowy ridge.

And I was the daughter of a murderer and a nightclub dancer.

When my deadbeat dad found my mom at the nightclub, she was working hard.

My dad asked her for money. She refused.

Originally, my dad was just trying to scare her, but who knew my mom's temper would flare up—she grabbed his hand and brought it to her own neck.

As a result, one slip of the hand, and someone actually died.

My mom died, and my dad was sentenced to fifteen years for manslaughter.

That video circulated widely at the time. After people dug up the fact that I was their daughter, I was inevitably bullied.

Even many parents demanded the school expel me.

Since childhood, I'd lived in hell. Education was my only way out in this life.

I knelt in the principal's office until my forehead was red and swollen from kowtowing, crying my heart out.

Adrian came to deliver homework and happened to see it.

He pulled me out of the office and took me to the infirmary to bandage my forehead.

I slapped him across the face. He had no idea what it meant for me if I couldn't get the principal to relent.

But he just smiled and took it. "Pretty strong hand you've got."

Then he ruffled my hair. "Don't worry, I'll take responsibility."

Later, the rumors disappeared, and the principal stopped mentioning expulsion.

He seemed to naturally consider me his person and started taking care of me.

Until the day we filled out college applications, he nervously asked me which one I'd chosen.

Finally, with a nervous voice, he confessed to me.

Back then, he really did care about my feelings.

We naturally got together.

After confirming our relationship, I worked even harder.

But when he brought me home to meet his family, we still faced strong opposition.

The Crawford family saw me as a dangerous threat, as if letting down their guard for a moment would drag Adrian into the abyss with me.

That day, he gripped my hand tightly and walked out of the Crawford family villa with his head held high, saying we would forge our own world together, and he would make the Crawford family accept me.

He also told me that what his family said wasn't true—they just hadn't seen my good qualities yet.

Both he and I held a grudge in our hearts, vowing to achieve something.

Back then, the lofty Crawford family heir worked three jobs simultaneously.

Clearly exhausted like a dog, he would still hold me and cry uncontrollably when he saw me throwing up from business drinking.

He said it was all his fault for not being able to give me a good life.

He said he would never let me down in this lifetime.

He also said that one day, he would walk hand in hand with me under the spotlight, letting everyone know I deserved the best.

For the sake of his words, I rejected offers from all the major listed companies and wholeheartedly helped him with his startup.

Secretly enduring the Crawford family's repeated difficulties and insults.

In their mouths, I was trash, lower class, a whore.

But as long as Adrian could still firmly hold my hand, I would die before letting go.

I also worked extremely hard to gain the Crawford family's approval.

He said he was the only son for three generations in the Crawford family, and the old lady had always hoped to hold a great-grandchild.

So I always thought having a child could ease the relationship with the Crawford family.

But he never seemed to take it to heart. Maybe the road was too long, and halfway through, I was the only one still fixated on reaching the destination.

And he did it. He built his tower, hosted his guests, became the center of attention.

Yet he alone forgot about me.

The wind was a bit cold. I pulled my coat tighter, dragging my suitcase.

The city was vast. The empty, long streets seemed to suggest that everyone had a place to belong—except me.

In the end, I chose to return to my old home.

The moment I opened the door, a musty smell wafted out from inside.

I hadn't come back since my mom died. The bed had spots and traces of intimate activities.

From age five, I watched my mom bring one man after another in here.

Everyone had the right to despise my mom, except me—after all, she spent most of the money she earned on me.

After cleaning up the house, I lay on the bed.

My hand rested on my stomach, where the little life I'd long anticipated resided.

Though reluctant, having already decided to break up, I didn't want to give myself any chance to turn back.

I just didn't expect to run into Adrian on the day of the abortion.