Too Late To Chase The One He Betrayed

Now, she had surrendered everything to Theresa without protest. And still, he called her unreasonable.

Maybe, when she uttered those fateful words, Weston had stopped seeing her as his sister.

In his eyes, she had become just another woman trying to worm her way into his life, no different from the others who shamelessly pursued him.

Yet no matter how much she tried to move forward, her heart clung to the past, especially that room.

Back then, after their parents’ accident, nightmares had gripped her night after night.

When they moved, Weston had their rooms placed side by side, separated by nothing but a thin wall. At night, he could hear her breathing as if they were lying inches apart.

He had been building his empire back then, drowning in endless work.

Yet no matter how late he returned, he always found time to sit by her bed, watching over her until sleep claimed her.

Maybe they had been too close. Even the designer had chuckled, "Since you’re a couple, why not just live together?"

Brittany had flushed red, ready to deny it. But Weston had only taken her hand, his voice calm, and said there was no need.

That stolen moment of warmth, of unspoken promise, had been enough to make her heart race for years.

And now, that room had found its true owner.

She smiled, elegant and unshaken. "I was never unreasonable. That room was always meant for my sister-in-law."

Weston paused for a beat before taking her luggage. "As long as you understand."

The sunlight caught the diamond ring on his hand, its brilliance slicing through her like an unforgiving blade.

Was it because he loved Theresa so much that he couldn’t wait another second to marry her?

Or was it because he found Brittany so unbearable that he wanted to sever all ties without hesitation?

Whatever the reason, her dignity had long crumbled to dust.

A bitter taste spread across her tongue, sinking deep into her heart.

‘Then when I leave, I hope you’ll finally be happy.’

"Brittany."

Just as they reached the entrance, his voice cut through the silence, calling her name in full.

"Theresa is now the mistress of this house. From now on, everything here will revolve around her. I hope after this past month, you've learned your lesson. Don’t act like a spoiled child who disrespects her elders."

He actually said… she had no manners.

So, he did love Theresa that much.

Once, he had cradled her like something fragile, as if the slightest touch might shatter her.

Now, all the pain she had endured was nothing more than a lesson in his eyes.

But did he really not know why she had lost her temper back then?

Ever since she was a child, music has been her dream. She had spent years watching him compose, studying every note and rhythm. And in secret, she had written a love song just for him.

A month ago, the day after Theresa stepped down as her psychiatrist, Weston’s twenty-sixth birthday was just around the corner.

She had spent the entire day preparing, carefully setting up every decoration. Every penny she had saved over the years, she spent on a tie for him, a small token of affection chosen with care.

But after that ill-fated confession, Weston did nothing except hire a psychiatrist for her. No reaction, no response, just cold, clinical distance.

So, she decided to treat it as a fleeting mistake. Something best left behind.

She had written that song for him, not as a confession, but as a way to share a piece of her heart. A melody woven with her purest emotions. Then, she would remain by his side as his sister.

At least that way, she could tell herself she had no regrets.

But that night, she waited. And waited. The dishes on the table turned cold, untouched, and he never walked through the door.

Just as she reached for her phone, ready to call the police in a panic, a notification lit up her screen.

[A Rising Star in Music. The Genius Composer’s Perfect Match.]

Her fingers trembled as she tapped on it.

The photo said more than words ever could.

Weston. Theresa. Side by side. Smiling like they had the entire world in their hands.

Theresa clung to his arm, leaning into him as if they had belonged together all along.