Betrayed by My Boyfriend, I Married a CEO in a Flash

A mix of women's perfume, tobacco, and alcohol hit her full in the face.

Willow's brain needed only a second to identify who carried this complicated scent.

She frowned unconsciously, stepped back, and widened the distance between them.

"What does Mr. Henson mean by this?"

Seeing this face again, Willow couldn't help recalling fragments of their past.

Her heart felt like someone had viciously crushed it in their fist.

Victor noticed something was off about her, and his expression shifted.

He tilted the umbrella toward her, his tone heavy. "What happened before was my fault. I apologize."

If she hadn't heard those words with her own ears, Willow definitely would have been fooled by him again.

She glanced at the heavy rain beyond the umbrella, then turned back to look at Victor, her voice flat. "If you have something to say, say it."

For a golden boy like him to lower himself and come here—even apologize to her so humbly—meant he'd run into some thorny problem.

And this problem could only be solved by her.

Victor reached for her hand, but she dodged.

His brows furrowed, but he quickly suppressed his displeasure.

He handed over the bracelet he'd bought in advance. Under the drumming rain, his voice softened considerably.

"You said you liked this before. I had a friend bring one back from overseas."

Round pearls paired with rubies—the new design from her favorite designer. She had originally planned to make a trip to Paris to pick it up personally, but then something happened to her uncle's company.

She couldn't even remember how long it had been since she'd paid attention to such things.

So long that now, with the bracelet right in front of her, it stirred nothing in her heart.

"If I'm not wrong, you came today for Spencer's contract."

She didn't take the bracelet, but directly exposed Victor's purpose.

Victor's patience ran out. He stopped beating around the bush. "Spencer's contract was handled by you before. The agreement's up for renewal. I heard he has other ideas, so I want you to help."

Willow gave a self-mocking smile. "Sorry. I can't help."

Back then, when Old Mr. Henson returned to the country, Victor was eager to perform in front of the old man, so he'd boasted he would secure the Salazar family's entire year-long contract.

But with such a big piece of meat, there were plenty of wolves watching it. Victor didn't have much of an advantage when it came to proposals.

To help him, she'd put in money and connections, accompanied Mrs. Salazar on outings for a whole week before she got the chance to meet Spencer.

At that dinner, she drank until she threw up, then hugged the contract and slept on the bathroom floor all night.

But when she brought the contract to Victor, she discovered him being affectionate with another woman...

Thinking back now, Willow felt she'd been unbelievably stupid.

She turned to leave, but Victor grabbed her wrist tight.

"Willow Sullivan, what exactly do you mean?"

Victor's face at that moment was so dark it looked like water could be wrung from it. His hand on the umbrella handle kept tightening, knuckles turning white.

Willow shook off his grip, her expression turning colder still.

"For someone like me—soulless, boring, a pathetic simp—haven't you had enough fun yet, Mr. Henson?"

She stared into his eyes. For an instant, his pupils trembled slightly, a flash of panic crossing through.

"You heard that? Listen to my explanation. I didn't mean it. I just..."

"You were just drunk. Talking nonsense." Willow curled her lips into a smile, her eyes reddening. "Is that what you want to say?"

"Willow..."

The rain beyond the umbrella seemed to intensify, pounding against the umbrella's surface.

Willow took a deep breath and looked away. "From now on, you and I won't have the slightest relationship."

"No—we never had a relationship in the first place. Instead of running here and begging so humbly, Mr. Henson, you should think about how to win the contract back on your own merit."

Victor's expression went cold. When he spoke, he still carried that lofty air. "Willow Sullivan, I gave you a chance. Don't regret it."

Willow raised her head and met his gaze, clearly seeing a trace of expectation in his eyes.

Expectation?

He couldn't possibly think she would still be like before, begging him humbly to turn back?

She suddenly laughed and said, word by word, "The thing I regret most right now is knowing you."

The bracelet he'd been clutching was thrown viciously to the ground. The last look he gave her was full of indifference.

The engine roared, and the luxury sports car sped away.

Rolling wheels crushed the pearls scattered on the pavement. A few drops of splashed water landed in Willow's eyes.

The car went farther and farther, becoming blurry and indistinct.

Willow stood there the whole time, her gaze gradually turning hollow.

Everything was over.

One thunderclap after another exploded overhead, again and again, as if someone were holding a hammer and smashing it into her heart.

A child's crying sounded by her ear.

Her memory abruptly dragged her back to that car accident scene with spring thunder surging.

The drizzling rain couldn't extinguish the white smoke rising from the engine. She lay on ground covered with broken glass, hazily watching doctors lift her mom and dad—covered in blood—onto stretchers.

Gradually, blood dyed her eyes red, and a sharp pain drilled into the tip of her heart.

After more than ten years, this kind of pain erupted on every thunderstorm day, constantly devouring her.

"Willow, Willow..."

Her aunt's voice suddenly sounded by her ear. Willow turned her head blankly. The moment the image before her gradually became clear, surging emotions reached their peak, and she couldn't hold back anymore. She started crying.

"Aunt..."

"Silly child, I'm here. I'm here."

Georgia hugged her and gently patted her back. "Let's go home. Go home."

When they entered the house, Joseph poked his head out of the kitchen holding a spatula. Seeing Willow come in looking utterly bedraggled, his face filled with worry.

He was about to ask what happened when Georgia gave him a look, and he swallowed his words.

Back in her room, Georgia ran to the bathroom and brought over two towels, wrapping her up.

"You silly child—if you were coming home, why didn't you call your uncle to pick you up? It's raining so hard, and Theodore Farley actually let you come back alone. That's simply too awful."

"Aunt, he went to Harbor City on a business trip. He had the driver bring me back."

Georgia paused, looking at her with considerable worry. "He... didn't bully you, did he?"

Willow shook her head and forced a smile. "No. He treats me pretty well."

To keep Georgia from disbelieving her, she added, "He also bought Harbor Villa. Said it would be our marital home."

Looking at her like this, Georgia hesitated. After a long while, she let out a soft sigh. "As long as he treats you well. All right, go take a hot bath first. I'll go downstairs and make ginger soup for you."

"Thank you, Aunt."

After watching Georgia leave, Willow's smile finally couldn't hold and fell. The moment she turned around, tears fell uncontrollably.

In Harbor City, rain poured down in torrents. In the other Harbor City, the sky was clear and cloudless.

A black sedan slowly drove along a crowded street. One ferry after another drifted past in front of it.

When Harper's call came in, Theodore was leaning back in his seat, resting.

"Mr. Farley, Mrs. Farley went back to the Mason residence."

The man's voice was light, without much fluctuation. "Mm."

The other party hesitated for a moment, then continued. "Victor Henson went to the Mason residence to look for Mrs. Farley. The two of them still look like they're... not completely cut off."