Too Late to Beg for My Love

I followed her around like a pathetic, groveling dog.

Gave up my career overseas for her.

Poured her tea, fetched her water, did whatever she needed.

All so I could hear her say those words: I do.

She'd said them, once.

“Jack, I see everything you do for me. From now on, we're family. No one gets to bully you.”

But I didn't love her anymore. And without love, there was no reason left to swallow any of it.

I ignored them both, turned away, and called Noah to have my things moved out.

This house. I'd bought it in secret, built to Rebecca's exact taste, five hundred million spent to make it hers.

Since she had no loyalty, she didn't deserve to live in it either.

“Pack your things and get out. Neither of you deserves this house.”

Rebecca and Val doubled over laughing：

“Have you lost your mind? You actually think this house is yours?”

Rebecca reached over and pressed her hand to my forehead：

“Did the fever fry your brain? You really think you could afford this place?”

“Don't forget, this house was Val's reward for winning first place at the international equestrian championship!”

Val's nostrils flared toward the ceiling the moment she finished, like he was the household's biggest hero.

Hero?

Watching them state it with such unshakable certainty, I laughed.

They clearly had no idea who organized that competition in the first place.

I was about to tell them the truth.

Then the servants, who'd been clustering around the commotion, suddenly fell into a neat line and went silent.

Ken Henson and Marcia Henson appeared, flanked by an entourage.

The old man looked me over head to toe, displeasure flashing across his face, then thumped his cane and sat down.

I'd crossed paths with Old Mr. Henson a few times before, but only as passing acquaintances at business functions. Nothing that would leave an impression.

Seeing me looking this wrecked, he had even less chance of recognizing me.

Marcia smiled warmly and asked Rebecca what had happened.

Rebecca faltered, eyes darting, and the lie spilled out before she could think：

“Oh, you know, some thug who had a run-in with Val a while back. Must've lost his mind, because he showed up today to start trouble. We were just about to throw him out.”

Val chimed in right on cue：

“That's right. Just some clueless nobody. We'll have him gone in a minute.”

I was so angry I almost laughed. I opened my mouth to set the record straight, but what Ken said next stopped me cold.

“Becca, I know you look out for Val because you two have been close since you were kids. But you never date anyone. As your father, that doesn't sit right with me.”

Rebecca opened her mouth, then closed it. So that was it. Eight years, and she had never once acknowledged me to her family.

I'd brought it up with her more than once. I wanted a real place in her life.

But she never gave me so much as a chance to visit, never invited me to a single family dinner or gathering.

When I asked why, she gave me the flimsiest excuse imaginable.

“My family's strict. I've always been the obedient daughter. I'd never dare go against my father.”

I believed every word. Promised myself, silently, that I'd love her twice as hard.

Now I could see it for what it was. Just an excuse she made up because she never wanted to claim me.

My fists clenched so tight the knuckles ached, and still none of it made sense.

I graduated top three Ivy League overseas. Height, looks, family background—none of it was lacking. Not a single thing.

What exactly wasn't good enough for Rebecca Henson?

Beside her, Val's gaze on Rebecca deepened, like a man staring at an angel he wanted but could never have.

I saw it clearly. I was about to call them out, expose whatever it was between them, but before I could get a word out—

Val's eyes shifted, and he turned the blade on me：

“Sir, I'll just say it straight—this guy's a creep. He's been all over Becca, won't leave her alone. That's the whole reason she won't date anyone. You think we'd come down on him this hard otherwise?”