Chapter 2

Once on the plane, I closed my eyes and tried to push away the irritation that brief encounter had stirred up.

When I thought about it, though, there was really nothing to be upset about.

Seeing him again felt like watching a scene from another lifetime.

The man who had once turned me into the biggest laughingstock in the city was now nothing more than a familiar stranger.

The flight attendant handed me a drink, and I smiled politely.

Subconsciously, my hand drifted to my lower abdomen. A life had once grown there.

Julian's and my child.

Yet during those three painful, agonizing years, in my darkest hour, the baby was gone.

The wound didn't ache anymore. Just like Julian himself, whatever mark he left on my life had been washed away by time.

When the plane landed, I turned on my phone.

A text from my assistant, Mia, popped up: Avery! The studio renovation is basically done! You're just in time for the final walkthrough!

I replied with a quick Sounds great, and a wave of grounding warmth washed over me.

This city was once where Julian and I had planned to build our home, and it was also where my heart had been shattered into pieces.

After five years away, I had finally returned.

Not because I couldn't let go, but because I truly had. Only when you're completely over it can you face it without fear.

The studio wasn't huge, but the location was prime. I bought the space using every penny I had saved over the past five years.

I wanted to build an independent design studio specializing in bespoke luxury leather goods. It had been my dream for as long as I could remember.

In the past, I had always bent over backward to fit the expectations of Julian and his high-society circle. Now, I was finally living purely for myself.

Mia was directing the movers when she saw me. She ran over, eyes shining. "Avery, look! It turned out incredible! It’s everything you envisioned!"

Looking around the sleek, minimalist studio, I took a long, deep breath.

This was my brand-new beginning.

No Julian Vance. No ghosts of the past.

Just me and my craft.

Yet, during the frantic preparations leading up to our grand opening, strange little clues began to surface.

To take promotional photos, I hired Thomas Walker, a renowned architectural photographer.

During a break, he casually remarked, "Miss Lin, this spot is fantastic. Julian Vance actually mentioned this space to me a while back. He said it was tailor-made for a gifted designer."

My hand froze as I passed him a bottle of water. "Julian?"

"Yeah, Julian Vance," Thomas said, surprised by my reaction. "We had dinner two months ago, and he specifically brought up this exact location."

Two months ago... that was right when I had quietly returned and started scouting properties.

A few days later, I needed custom hardware for a luxury bag line and visited a reclusive, veteran metal craftsman.

Examining my blueprints, the old artisan smiled. "Excellent choice of alloy. Young Julian Vance came by not long ago and picked out the exact same batch."

A cold chill ran down my spine.

He had even been here?

Like puzzle pieces fitting together, the terrifying reality began to take shape: from the moment I set foot back in this city, Julian had been watching my every move.

It didn't touch my heart. It made my skin crawl.

He had abandoned me five years ago, yet now he was slithering back into my life like this.

It was an unsettling feeling.

It was like thinking a deep wound had finally scarred over, only for someone to press against the bandage—not unbearable agony, but a sickening reminder of the horrific trauma beneath.

I had poured my soul into building this sanctuary. Every tool, every sketch was proof of the bloody climb I made over the last five years.

Yet Julian's shadow was like a silent tide, seeping past the boundaries I had so carefully drawn.

What the hell did he want?

Belated guilt? A toxic need for control?

Or was this just a pathetic attempt to romanticize the past now that his trophy marriage was crumbling?

I shook my head slowly. Whatever his reasons were, none of it mattered to me anymore.

The naive girl who stood foolishly at the altar five years ago was dead. The woman standing here today knew how to thrive on her own.