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Chapter 5: The ICU and the Reality Check

After severing ties with Nathaniel, he was surprisingly quiet, and I didn’t waste energy worrying about it anymore.

I focused all my manic energy entirely on my career. Every day was a brutal, busy hustle. Sometimes chasing after the impossible demands of corporate clients, other times rushing around attending hostile negotiations. The massive logistics deal at the headquarters the other night had ultimately fallen through because I refused to compromise my dignity, but I hustled and found three smaller, cleaner accounts to replace it.

Because I didn’t take shortcuts, I had to put in an agonizing amount of effort and endure many contemptuous glances. But in the end, everything I earned was clean, decent, and unequivocally mine. My first massive commission bonus went straight into my bank account.

A week later, I received an unprecedented notification from the executive board. Due to my relentless numbers, I was being promoted and transferred to the European branch for a year, coming with a 40% salary increase and a director title.

Three days before my departure to London, I returned to my childhood home for a visit.

The small, dilapidated, one-story house was less than 200 square feet, tucked into a grimy alley near the city’s rehabilitation center. It was crammed with old, rotting furniture, medical supplies, and junk. Ten years ago, my father had fallen four stories at a construction site and had been paralyzed from the neck down ever since. He was bedridden, incontinent, and completely reliant on machines.

My mother, due to the immense, crushing shock and financial ruin, had suffered a mental breakdown, drifting unpredictably in and out of a volatile, deranged consciousness.

I used a warm, wet towel to wipe my father’s gaunt, sunken face and frail hands. He looked so thin and pitiful. I went into the tiny kitchen to cook rice, combed my mother’s graying hair, and gave the underpaid daytime nurse detailed instructions. Finally, I left a thick wad of cash—my entire bonus—in a metal tin on the cupboard.

When the front door closed behind me, I glanced back at my mother staring blankly at the wall, and my eyes welled up with hot tears. Although I had hired a professional nurse to care for them, I was still consumed by guilt. But there was no other way; I had to fight tooth and nail for a corporate future so that I could eventually afford a real, sustainable glimmer of hope for them.

On my way to the airport terminal, Nathaniel, who had been completely silent for a month, suddenly texted me.

“I’m standing outside your company. I know you’re leaving. We shouldn’t end like this, Audrey. Please.”

In the end, I simply deleted the text. I didn’t answer him. Having made the agonizing decision to let go, there was absolutely no need to hold on to the ghosts of the past. I had walked ninety-nine steps toward him for six years. The very last step, I had to stop and walk away.

The moment I boarded the trans-Atlantic flight, I ordered a glass of champagne, looked out the window, and closed my eyes.

There are no free lunches in the corporate world. The price for a 40% raise was having to grit my teeth and tackle the hardest, most brutal sector of the company: expanding the international client base.

Every day at my London hotel was a frantic race against time, with work piling up to the point of a nervous breakdown. After three months of non-stop, eighty-hour work weeks, one late night, I turned on my personal phone. Suddenly, I realized it had been a very long time since I had thought about Nathaniel.

Actually, when I first arrived in Europe, the language barrier and the vicious cultural gap in the workplace almost broke me. During those panic attacks in my hotel bathroom, I couldn’t help but think of him. I remembered the times he was there to encourage me over the phone whenever I hit rock bottom. I remembered his tall, elegant figure standing under the streetlights, which had given me so much desperate motivation to survive, just hoping to be worthy of his side.

But now, the idealized image of Nathaniel in my mind was fading. It was being aggressively replaced by thick stacks of English contracts, massive commission checks, and my own rising self-worth.

It turned out that the obsession and agonizing regret that had lasted for six years were finally, permanently soothed by distance and time.

When everything seemed to be over, I truly thought I would never have the chance to see Nathaniel again.

Chapter 6: The Delusion of Rescue

Until six months later, at a global tech trade fair in Geneva, fate violently brought us back together.

That day, I was directing the preparation of our massive corporate exhibition booth with my junior colleagues. I had stayed up for four consecutive nights finalizing the presentation graphics. The exhaustion, compounded by a severe, sudden onset of menstrual cramps, drained all the blood from my face. I could barely stand.

As I bent over, clutching my stomach in agony, a cold sweat broke out across my forehead. The room spun, and I felt my knees give out. I was about to collapse onto the hard convention floor.

Suddenly, a pair of strong, familiar hands caught my waist, steadying my body just before I hit the ground.

A deep, smooth voice rang out from above me. “Let me take you to the hospital.”

It was Nathaniel.

He was still exactly the same. He was wearing a bespoke, high-end black Tom Ford suit. His figure was imposing, his demeanor aristocratic and cold to the world, but his dark eyes were fixed on me, calm yet incredibly gentle. The bustling, chaotic space of the convention center seemed to freeze around us.

The moon that had hung suspended, unattainable in my world for six years, had miraculously reappeared at the exact moment I was most tired and vulnerable.

I leaned against his chest for a moment. But only for a single second.

A second later, I politely, formally, and distantly pulled my arm away from his grip.

“No need, Mr. Sterling. I still have a presentation to oversee,” I said, my voice completely professional.

A junior girl from my sales group rushed over, helping me into the VIP break room. Sensing the intense, cinematic drama, she curiously whispered, “Audrey, is that your boyfriend? He’s gorgeous!”

I held a paper cup of hot water. In the hazy, rising steam, I saw a reflection of the pathetic, desperate girl who had chased after Nathaniel for six years. I gently shook my head.

“He’s just an old acquaintance I haven’t seen in a long time,” I replied smoothly.

If I hadn’t looked out the window and seen the majestic, snow-capped Swiss Alps—the symbol of how far I had climbed—I might have mistakenly thought that I had never left Nathaniel’s shadow. I might have slipped back into the delusion and started another six-year cycle of secretly loving him. But the mountains were real. They reminded me that I had survived the mud, and I was now standing on my own peak.

After resting and taking painkillers, I returned to the booth to continue my work.

What I didn’t expect was that Nathaniel was still there.

He stood near the edge of the exhibition area. His tall figure silently watched me from afar. He didn’t approach. He didn’t bother me. He just watched. I only glanced at him once before immediately averting my gaze, focusing all my attention entirely on the lucrative clients approaching the booth.

When the fair ended, it was almost 7:00 PM. I shook off the day’s fatigue, wrapped my scarf around my neck, and stepped out of the convention center.

Nathaniel was waiting at the gate. It was early spring, and the city lights reflected off the wet pavement. He stood under the soft, yellow streetlights, silently looking at me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

“Audrey. It’s been a long time,” he said softly.

Against my better judgment, I allowed him to drive me back to my hotel. In the luxury car, Nathaniel turned on the heated seats and draped a thin, incredibly soft cashmere blanket over my knees. The familiar, intoxicating scent of bergamot and cedar immediately wafted over me.

He took a thermal thermos from the cup holder and handed it to me. “Ginger tea. You still don’t know how to take care of yourself when you work. Does it still hurt? Last time I tried to make you rest, you got angry and vanished, so this time I just waited for you downstairs until closing.”

I silently watched him over the rim of the cup. After half a year of zero contact, he seemed to have retained all the exact same habits he used to string me along. His attentive, boyfriend-lite routine hadn’t changed, as if there had never been any explosive fallout between us.

But one thing was noticeably different: Nathaniel was now deeply cautious, almost nervous.

I gently put the cup down into the holder and softly called his name. “Nathaniel—”

“Audrey,” he interrupted me urgently. “I broke off the engagement with Victoria.”

In the dark interior of the car, Nathaniel’s eyes shone with a strange, desperate intensity. He reached across the console and took my hand, his thumb stroking my knuckles continuously, as if he were holding a priceless artifact he had just recovered from the bottom of the ocean.

He had never told me the truth about his relationship with Victoria because she was a strategic, corporate merger arranged by his billionaire parents. He and Victoria were essentially strangers, only having interacted at galas for a few months. At the time, he hadn’t really thought about whether he should go along with the arrangement; it was just the path of least resistance to keep his family’s wealth consolidated.

Until the night I walked away in the rain.

During the past six months, the absence of my constant, unwavering adoration had triggered a catastrophic psychological withdrawal. When I was securely chained to his side, he never thought that one day he would actually lose me. He took my existence entirely for granted, becoming comfortably accustomed to having my unconditional devotion to feed his ego, enjoying every ounce of attention I gave him.

Until I suddenly, violently cut the cord. After I left for Europe, he was genuinely horrified to realize that he was suffocating without me. It wasn’t out of simple habit. It wasn’t out of friendship. Simply put, his massive ego had shattered, and beneath the rubble, he realized he actually needed me.

His cool fingertips gently touched my cheek, the warmth of his palm gliding lightly over my jaw as if to make up for half a year of silence.

“Audrey, I want to try. A real relationship. With you,” Nathaniel whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

If I had heard this exact confession from Nathaniel a few years ago, I would have broken down into hysterical tears of pure joy. Because throughout my entire twenties, what I longed for more than oxygen was to be his chosen partner.

But now? My heart felt absolutely nothing. No flutter. No warmth. Just a profound, clinical annoyance.

“I’m not a test drive for a billionaire who got bored, Nathaniel,” I said flatly. I firmly withdrew my hand from his grip. “You have no intention of actually committing to a girl from the slums. You just miss the attention.”

“I’ll wait,” Nathaniel said immediately, his jaw setting stubbornly. “I will wait until you are ready to love again.”

I stared at him, feeling a sudden, hot flash of genuine anger.

“Nathaniel, I am not a puppet that you can summon and dismiss at your leisure!” I snapped, my voice rising in the quiet car. “On what basis do you think that just because you say you aren’t ready, you get to hang me in emotional purgatory for six years? And then, the second you miraculously decide you ‘want to try,’ I am supposed to immediately drop to my knees, weep with gratitude, and cooperate with your wishes?”

“Audrey, no, I—”

“What do you think I am?!” I cut him off, my chest heaving. “Six years I stood by you! You said it was because you were ‘confused,’ didn’t understand your own feelings, so I gritted my teeth and endured your elite contempt, your secret fiancée, and your cowardice. So now that you’re sober, I have to throw away my pride, my career, and my sanity to follow your lead? Is there any logic in this universe that makes that acceptable?”

But Nathaniel didn’t give up easily.

Over the next month, he started appearing around me with alarming, increasing frequency in Geneva. Sometimes on my way to the corporate office, sometimes I’d accidentally run into him while getting coffee. I didn’t pay much attention. I just gave a sterile, polite smile and walked past him.

He tried every manipulative tactic to get back in touch with me, starting the exact same routine he used to employ to keep me on the hook. At 8:00 AM, he sent regular “good morning” messages with photos of the Swiss Alps. At noon, he texted me about his high-level meetings.

I left every single message on “Read.”

Almost every week, I received massive, obnoxious floral arrangements and invitations to Michelin-star dinners. Each time, I gave the bouquets to the junior girls in my sales group, ate cheap takeout at my desk, and continued to grind out contracts to meet my quarterly KPIs.

Despite my absolute, freezing coldness, Nathaniel persisted. “Audrey, I will prove to you my sincerity,” he wrote. “I’m not acting on impulse. I genuinely want to pursue you properly.”

Actually, I didn’t care about his thoughts anymore. Currently, the only things I was interested in were securing international partners, hitting my sales metrics, and ensuring my massive end-of-year bonus cleared the bank.

Nathaniel eventually realized this. Changing tactics, he quickly used his vast billionaire connections to funnel several massive, highly lucrative corporate clients my way. Then, under the guise of being the “facilitator” for the merger, he cornered me into a business dinner.

I refused countless times, but my European director insisted I attend to secure the accounts. In the end, I was trapped by corporate obligation.

The trap led me to sit at the exact same VIP table with Nathaniel.

Fine, I thought. Since it’s business, let’s execute it flawlessly.

Throughout the three-hour dinner, I engaged with the clients smoothly, speaking fluent French, negotiating terms with graceful, terrifying precision. I was a masterclass in corporate sales. And for three hours, I didn’t glance at Nathaniel’s side of the table once.

By the time the dessert arrived, Nathaniel’s expression had visibly, dramatically darkened into a gloomy, simmering frustration.

After the successful dinner concluded and the clients departed, he finally seized the opportunity to corner me on the terrace.

That night, the moon over Lake Geneva was unusually bright. Nathaniel had drunk a considerable amount of scotch. His usually pale, aristocratic skin was flushed, losing its cold, intimidating edge, making him look much more vulnerable.

He stood a few feet away, silently looking at me. His dark eyes held an emotion I couldn’t completely decipher.

“Audrey, today is the first time I’ve ever actually seen you entertain clients and negotiate,” Nathaniel murmured, his voice thick. “You’re so incredibly capable. You completely surprised me with your calmness, your firmness… your charisma.”

“I don’t need any of your patronizing praise, Nathaniel,” I replied coldly, adjusting my coat.

“And then I suddenly realized,” he continued, taking a step closer, ignoring my barb. “In the six years I’ve known you, I never really understood you. Audrey, I’ve missed so much of who you actually are. Now you’re gradually becoming a version of yourself that I’m no longer familiar with.”

His thick eyelashes drooped, his voice sounding genuinely, pathetically sad.

But very quickly, he lifted his head and smiled softly. In that smile, there was an undeniable, raw admiration. “But the woman you are now… is even more radiant than the moonlight.”

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