I dragged her out of the bar, the cold night wind biting against us. She shivered violently before doubling over by the roadside, retching with gut-wrenching force. Watching her in such agony, my throat tightened involuntarily, and a queasiness churned in my stomach. Her face was as pale as a ghost, her forehead glistening with beads of sweat. As I gently patted her back, a silent sigh escaped my thoughts—why had she let herself fall into such disarray?

When she finally seemed to have emptied the storm within, I rummaged through her bag for a tissue and delicately wiped the remnants from the corners of her lips. Her gaze was unfocused, still lost in the haze of alcohol. I led her to a bench outside a nearby convenience store and murmured softly,"Wait here for a moment. I'll get you some water."

The store was brightly lit, and I hastily grabbed a bottle of mineral water. At the counter, my eyes instinctively darted outside, catching sight of her slumped over on the bench like a lifeless doll. An inexplicable pang shot through my chest, and I hurried back to her side with the bottle in hand.

"Rinse your mouth," I said, unscrewing the cap and handing it to her. She obediently took it, gulping down a large mouthful. Water trickled from the corner of her lips, soaking into her clothes. I frowned slightly but bit back any words of reproach.

She closed her eyes, swaying lightly, before collapsing against me. Her voice, faint and tinged with sorrow, broke the silence."Could you tell everyone I'm your girlfriend? Make them stop saying you're keeping me... please?"

Her plea, so fragile and desperate, pierced my heart. Instinctively, my arms tightened around her as if trying to shield her from the world's cruelty.

"I will treat you well. Please tell them to stop talking, okay?" Tears rolled down the corners of her eyes, like beads that had broken off the string, falling one by one.

"Sorry... I'm so sorry. It's all in the past now," I murmured, though I knew my words offered her no solace.

"Baby... I'm sorry. Mommy can't find Daddy anymore." Her voice grew faint, as if caught between reality and a dream. I couldn't tell whether she was lost in memories or simply rambling in her drunken stupor. All I knew was that her pain cut deep into my soul. At that moment, I would have preferred her anger—slaps, screams, even blades—over the anguish I saw in her eyes.

I hailed a cab and carried her into it. The driver glanced at us through the rearview mirror, his eyes flickering with curiosity and unspoken questions. I managed a bitter smile. Who could possibly understand the tangled web of emotions behind this moment?

When we arrived at the hotel, I realized with a sinking feeling that I had no idea where she lived. Left with no choice, I booked another room and carefully laid her on the bed. Her body felt featherlight in my arms as I tucked her in. I adjusted the air conditioning to 22 degrees and quietly turned to leave.

"Ryan... you're back?" Her voice, faint yet brimming with expectation, froze me in place as she clung tightly to my arm.

"I'm back. Have a good sleep." I said gently, prying her hand away. I tucked the blanket around her and crept out of the room.

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Back in my own, I found sleep elusive. Her words lingered like thorns, pricking at my conscience and dragging me out of the euphoria I had felt in my relationship with Celeste Harrington. Perhaps I truly owed her something. Perhaps my very existence was a source of torment for her.

I tossed and turned, her tear-filled eyes haunting me long into the night. I could only hope Lucas Steele might help her move past this shadow. I sighed, wishing with all my heart that she could find true happiness.

The next morning, still groggy from a restless night, I stepped out of my room, only to freeze in surprise. There she stood, her face as cold and shadowed as if she'd just emerged from an ice cellar.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, baffled by her presence.

"Waiting for you to go to work," she replied icily, her words cutting through the morning air. Without another glance, she turned and strode away, her steps brisk and resolute.

I hurried to catch up with her, countless words swirling in my mind, yet I couldn't decide where to begin. We walked in silence, the crisp sound of our footsteps echoing in the stillness of the early morning. The ride-share I had ordered was almost there, and we waited by the roadside.

"Did you call for a car?" she asked abruptly, her tone edged with impatience.

"I did," I replied tersely, my thoughts still preoccupied with why she had drunk so much the previous night. The question lingered on my lips, but I swallowed it and instead asked,"Are you feeling any better?"

She turned sharply, her eyes cold and piercing, like twin daggers slicing through my composure."Don't you have anything to say to me?"

I frowned, a wave of irritation surging through me."Say what? I wish you two a happy marriage and a baby soon." There was a hint of sarcasm in my tone, and even I could sense it.

Her gaze grew even frostier, as though she were trying to unearth the deepest corners of my thoughts."You're terrifying," she said icily, turning away just as the car arrived. She slid into the front passenger seat without a second glance.

I let out a bitter laugh, my thoughts dripping with irony: Terrifying? No, that title belongs to you. Fine, I owe you. I'll etch it into my conscience as my life's mantra.

When we arrived at the office, she transformed entirely, as if the drunken debacle of the night before and the frigid confrontation of the morning had never occurred. The moment she stepped inside, she became the commanding, unyielding figure who wielded her authority effortlessly, devoid of the gentleness she had displayed days earlier.

"Ryan, bring me that file," her voice echoed across the office, carrying an undeniable authority.

"Ryan, get me a cup of coffee," she demanded again, treating me as though I were her personal assistant.

"Ryan, what is this mess? You can't even compile basic data?" Her tone bristled with dissatisfaction and reproach.

"Ryan, notify Eldoria's production, logistics, quality assurance, and technical teams. Schedule a video conference," she ordered relentlessly, leaving me breathless under the weight of her incessant commands.

"Ryan, where are you with the meeting minutes?" Her voice rang out once more, fraying the last strands of my patience. By midday, I felt as though I was suffocating under the weight of her demands. My frustration simmered, and I wanted to ask what on earth was wrong with her.

As noon approached, her voice rang out again."Ryan, get the car keys. You're driving me to meet a client."

I pulled out my phone and sent a message to Celeste Harrington:"I have to take my boss out to meet a client, so don't bring me lunch."

After a while, my phone rang and she replied:"I have packed it for you. Then I can only give it to someone else."

I smiled faintly and replied swiftly:"Alright, I'll make it up to you tonight."

Her response came quickly:"Not tonight. I have relatives visiting. Tomorrow instead?"

A small wave of disappointment washed over me, but I agreed nonetheless:"Sure, I'll take you to dinner tomorrow."

As I was finishing my reply, Sophie Summers approached, her voice cutting through the air like a blade."Did you get the keys?"

I held up the keys with a smile that barely masked my fatigue."Got them."