After I had daughter with another man, my chubby left me for good.

"Lucas Montgomery!" I instinctively pushed him away, my anger flaring, "He didn't do anything wrong, haven't you had enough?!"

My shove sent him flying across the room, his body crashing into the sharp edge of the able with a sickening crack. His forehead met the wood, and in an instant, a geyser of blood erupted, painting the pristine white carpet a grotesque shade of crimson.​

Lucas crumpled to the floor, dazed and disoriented, blood streaming down his face, mixing with the tears that welled up in his eyes.

But I didn't look back, just holding Julian Whitmore, urgently rushing to the hospital.

His trembling blood - stained fingers hovering above my forehead. "Sophia…" he whispered, voice hoarse and laced with pain, "I'm fine. Don't blame him…"​

I dropped to my knees beside him, the sticky warmth of his blood seeping through my silk gown. Cradling his face in my hands, I stared into his fading eyes. "You're the father of my child," I hissed, "You're the one who holds my heart, and I'll burn this entire manor to the ground before I let them lay another finger on you."​

His lips twitched into a weak smile, blood dribbling down his chin. "Our...our little one..." he managed to choke out.​

"Our child is safe," I cut in, pressing a fierce kiss to his bloodied lips. "And you will be too. I swear it on my life."

As I rushed out of the villa with Julian, I caught a glimpse of Lucas still slumped on the ground, the blood from the back of his head trickling down his neck.

But I didn't dare look back.

He was a in a threadbare shirt, an otherworldly glow haloing his cold, aloof form behind the convenience store counter. The moment I laid eyes on him, time stood still. I lingered outside for two torturous hours, entranced by his enigmatic presence.​

Then, I strode in, black card extended like a gauntlet. "Leave this life behind," I commanded, voice dripping with desperate yearning. "With me, you'll never have to touch a price tag again."

In a swift movement, he slapped the glossy black card back onto the counter.

It skidded across the scratched surface, hitting the register with a sharp clack.

"Keep your charity, miss," he spat, voice laced with disdain.

"My calloused hands may ring up your snacks, but they're cleaner than whatever strings you'd attach to that card. I earn my bread honestly, and I'll die before selling my dignity."​

The fluorescent lights of the convenience store flickered overhead, casting harsh shadows across his angular face.

After a long, charged moment, I retrieved a pristine business card from my purse, the embossed gold lettering catching the light.

"Sophia Sinclair," I declared, my tone matching his defiance.

I dropped the card next to his cracked name tag that read "Lucas".

"Tomorrow, I will be here again."

He didn't take it seriously. But the next day, I arrived in a Lamborghini Aventador as promised, standing in that noisy, chaotic convenience store like a joke, out of place.

To chase him, I did many things that even I found unbelievable—

When he rejected my confession, I had people hang banners outside the convenience store every day;

When he avoided me, I walked through the crowd on foot;

When he said we were from different worlds, I worked alongside him.

For nine whole months, I stood outside his convenience store, once, twice, nine times… until he finally started to care.

He agreed to be with me because I took the acid thrown by a competing store on his behalf, and to this day, there's still a huge, ugly scar on my back. I was in so much pain that I sweated cold, but I still gritted my teeth and said to him, "Lucas, remember, you owe me a life, and you'll repay it for the rest of your life."

That day, he cried. It was the first time I saw him cry, his hot tears falling into my palm.