A Bitter Departure

"Unfortunately, I’m not one of those superficial men." Julian stared down at her, his dark eyes devoid of any human warmth. He towered over her, radiating a chilling, oppressive aura. "So, don't use those tactics of yours on me."

Sylvie gasped, her knuckles turning white as she gripped his suit jacket. Who in their right mind would want to seduce a hostile iceberg like him? Screw you, jerk. The curse sat right on the tip of her tongue. She opened her mouth, ready to unleash a barrage of insults, ready to tell this arrogant man exactly where he could shove his accusations. But the heavy oak door swung open before a single syllable could escape her lips.

Lucian strode into the infirmary, carrying a silver tray loaded with medicine and bandages. His brisk footsteps halted the second he registered the scene before him. A slow, knowing smirk spread across his face.

"Oh my, I came at the wrong time!" Lucian spun on his heel, shielding his eyes in a theatrical display of modesty. "You two should continue, continue!"

For years, Lucian had watched his boss maintain ironclad self-control. Julian was the type of man who chose to drink penalties during party games rather than indulge in a simple dare. He never engaged in public displays of affection. He never let women get within a three-foot radius. Yet here he was, standing close enough to share breath with his sister-in-law, his hands hovering around her waist while she clung to his chest. To Lucian, it felt like the sun had just risen in the west.

The teasing words snapped Sylvie back to reality. Heat rushed to her cheeks as the compromising nature of their posture registered in her mind. Panic set in. She planted her palms against Julian’s solid chest and shoved backward, tearing herself out of his embrace in a messy, desperate scramble.

"It’s not like that!" Sylvie shouted, her voice tight with embarrassment and frustration. "My knee gave out. I nearly fell and I fell into his arms by accident. There is nothing between us!"

Julian smoothed the lapels of his suit, his expression unreadable. He had not pushed her away, which was a miracle in itself, but Sylvie was too rattled to notice the slight shift in his demeanor.

Lucian peeked over his shoulder, an amused glint dancing in his eyes. He offered a bright, encouraging smile. "Giselle, you don’t need to be shy. Julian is finally showing interest. You should take the initiative while you have the chance. Seize the opportunity! Good luck!"

Sylvie stared at him, bewildered. Was this man speaking a foreign language?

Wait. Giselle?

Her sister's name echoed in the sterile room. Her jaw tightened, her hands balling into fists at her sides.

"I'm not your sister-in-law!" Sylvie snapped, glaring at the intruder.

The cheerful smirk melted right off Lucian's face. He paled, his gaze darting across Sylvie's furious, determined features. A sudden wave of terror washed over him. He rushed forward, nearly dropping the medical tray on the floor.

"Giselle, are you okay?" Lucian babbled, blind panic lacing his tone. "Do you remember running out onto the road? I swear there was no serious collision. I barely bumped you with the car! You fainted from the shock, and I called the boss the second I saw it was you. Oh god, did the impact give you amnesia? What should I do if you lost your memory?!"

Sylvie fell silent. The scattered, missing puzzle pieces of the night finally clicked into place.

This man was the driver who hit her. He had dragged her to this lavish villa under the assumption that she was her sister, Giselle. And Julian? Julian assumed she had orchestrated this entire traffic accident just to sneak into his home and seduce him.

A wave of indignant rage swept through her chest. She refused to swallow the blame for their ridiculous, infuriating misunderstanding.

Sylvie pivoted, her fierce gaze locking onto Julian. "It was your brother who hit me and brought me back here against my will. I really didn't expect that your brother would also be as blind as you are!"

Julian’s jaw clenched. The temperature in the room plummeted. The woman was calling him blind to his face, lumping his intelligence in with Lucian's mistake.

He let out a harsh, mocking sneer. "Would he have hit you if you were not setting up an 'accident' in the middle of the road? Do you want to take a look at the surveillance cameras to prove you didn't orchestrate this little show?"

Sylvie gritted her teeth. She knew she had recklessly sprinted into the street. The blind panic of Clive chasing her through the dark alleyways had clouded her judgment. But she would not stand there and be accused of staging a pathetic seduction ploy for a man she despised.

"I was careless," Sylvie shot back, her voice ringing with sheer defiance. "But if I was setting up an accident, I would have asked for compensation. I wouldn't be standing here arguing with a brick wall."

She turned away from him and grabbed her damp purse from the nearby cabinet. Digging past her phone and keys, her fingers closed around a crumpled ten-dollar bill. She pulled it out and slammed it down onto the glass table with a sharp smack.

"This is the money for the registration fee," she declared, her chest heaving with every ragged breath. "I would advise you both to go and register for a checkup with an ophthalmologist. Goodbye. I hope that I’ll never see you again!"

Without sparing either of the stunned men another glance, Sylvie hoisted her bag over her shoulder. She gritted her teeth against the sharp pain radiating from her bruised knee and limped out of the infirmary.

Julian stood frozen by the hospital bed. Lucian remained motionless near the doorway. Both men stared at the empty space she left behind, caught off guard by her sheer brashness. Most people would grovel in Julian’s presence, treating him with the utmost reverence. Yet this soaking wet woman had dared to yell at him, throw a petty bill in his face, and storm off.

Sylvie dragged her injured leg down the long, luxurious hallway of the villa. The plush carpet muffled her uneven footsteps, but it did nothing to quiet the storm raging in her mind. She did not care about Julian's elite status. She did not care about his massive wealth, his power, or the terrifying aura he projected. She only felt a deep, agonizing hatred for the man.

Every painful step she took served as a cruel reminder of what she had lost. That fateful night had destroyed her life from the ground up. Before the nightmare, she had a bright path ahead. She had passed her entrance exams with flying colors. She was ready to attend a good university, secure an ordinary future, and build a sweet, quiet marriage with Caleb. They were supposed to grow old together, surrounded by the simple joys of a normal life.

Instead, her entire world crumbled into dust. She became the neighborhood pariah, scolded and shamed on a daily basis for an out-of-wedlock pregnancy. She lost her dignity, her academic dreams, and the right to stand beside the boy she loved. And now, the final nail in the coffin: her own foster mother was selling her off to an old, lecherous man for a quick payout.

Tears of frustration burned the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away. She gripped her bag tighter, eager to escape this suffocating mansion. She never wanted to see Julian ever again. She just needed to find the front door, walk out into the cold air, and disappear into the night.

"Don't go..."

The voice drifted through the quiet corridor, light as a feather.

Sylvie froze. The breath hitched in her throat. It was a tender, childish whisper, trembling with a strange vulnerability that pierced straight through her lingering trauma. The sheer innocence in those two simple words stopped her dead in her tracks.

She stood paralyzed, her heart skipping a beat as the heavy silence settled back into the hallway. Slowly, ignoring the throbbing ache in her knee and the stinging tears in her eyes, Sylvie followed the sound of the tender voice and looked downward.