Chapter 3 His Vengeance

A sharp, cold wind blew again, a silent reminder for the person standing at the doorway to leave.

Carlos stared at the curtain-like rain, hesitating on whether to make a dash through it, when Angela pulled out an umbrella from her bag, opened it, and held it above his head.

They shared a brief look. Angela smiled slightly, hooked her arm around his, and the two walked slowly toward the parked car.

Though it was only about ten meters away, it took them several minutes to get there. When they reached the car, Carlos murmured, "Well... I should head home now."

Angela kept her arm linked with his and leaned her head against his chest, speaking in a soft, coquettish voice, "Stay with me a little longer, please? I'm afraid that when the sun comes up, I'll find out this was all just a dream."

Carlos licked his lips, his eyes darting uncertainly.

After a moment, he lifted his arms and wrapped them around Angela.

Under the small women's umbrella, they looked tightly packed together. The night rain landed on Angela's neck, sending a chill down her spine, but she didn't let go.

"Are you cold?"

Carlos asked.

Angela hugged him even tighter. "Not with you here."

"Mhm," Carlos replied. "I really should go. I've got work in the morning."

Upon hearing this, Angela finally let him go. She looked up at him, her eyes misty with unshed tears. She looked so delicate, as if the rain would melt her completely if it came down any harder.

She hooked her pinky with his and gave a slight swing. "Carlos, I hope you seriously consider what I said today. Whatever she can give you, I can too. And what she can't, I still can."

Then she let go and whispered, "My uncle is still waiting for me. I'll head off now."

Carlos stood there watching as Angela climbed into a Rolls-Royce. His gaze flickered under the streetlamp, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly.

He turned and slowly made his way to his own car.

In the night's dimness, the world blurred. He pulled out his keys, pressed the unlock button, and reached for the door-only to feel something hard.

When he saw what it was, his heartbeat spiked, blood rushed to his head, and for a moment, his mind went blank. His nerves were stretched to their breaking point.

--

3:45 AM.

The rain had probably stopped. Car horns outside pierced the silence sharply.

Emily lay flat on her bed, staring at the ceiling with a blank, buzzing mind. Her heart felt hollow, like all the oxygen had been drained.

She hadn't sat still after getting home. Instead, she went to the storage room, pulled out a cardboard box, and packed up everything Carlos had given her.

Some things had been used and couldn't be returned, so she wrote a list and planned to pay him back for everything, including a ticket to Catherine's concert-which they were supposed to attend together. Now she'd just return the money for both tickets.

All she needed now was to quietly wait for Carlos to come to her.

Sure enough, the doorbell rang not long after.

Knowing Carlos, he was probably soaked in rain, pitifully standing outside, ready to explain and beg for forgiveness.

She even anticipated his lines-he'd start with, "Let me explain," then look at her with reddened eyes, tug at her sleeve like he did when he first confessed his love.

Thinking of that, Emily chuckled.

It all felt like a dream.

Though she had no strength, she forced herself up and walked to the door.

The hallway light cast a dim glow, but it was enough to see Carlos clearly.

He held a blue umbrella with lace trim, his hair limp but completely dry-not a single drop of water on him.

Nothing like she had imagined.

He hunched slightly, head lowered. He glanced at her, then looked away again.

"Emily..."

Emily tilted her chin up, ready to deliver the speech she had prepared, full of scorn and righteous anger.

But before she could open her mouth, Carlos said, "Let's break up."

Emily,"...?"

"I love you, and I really wanted us to last, but this life is just too exhausting. I can't see the light at the end of the tunnel. Even dreaming about owning a tiny apartment in this city feels like a fantasy. I..."

"Wait." Emily snapped back, cutting him off. "What are you saying?"

"Emily." He frowned, gritted his teeth, and blurted everything out. "We need to be realistic! Her family isn't ordinary-her uncle drives a Rolls-Royce with a rare license plate. There's only one like it in all of New York City. Money, power-I want to skip the struggle and get to where I would be twenty years from now. I... I think we're better off as friends."

Emily nearly lost consciousness from sheer rage-she was one fingernail away from a heart attack.

So in the end, he dumped her before she could even speak?

"Carlos." Emily gripped the doorframe tightly, her tone icy and controlled. "Did you bring my phone?"

"Y-yeah."

He still didn't dare look her in the eye. He glanced quickly at her and handed it over.

Emily snatched her phone, took a deep breath-and then in one motion, kicked both the cardboard box and Carlos out the door.

"Who the hell wants to be friends with you?! Go be friends with your ancestors!"

--

The slam of the door echoed through the building. Emily leaned against it, still feeling the reverberations, patting her chest over and over to keep from fainting.

A moment later, she heard footsteps outside.

Despite herself, a flicker of hope stirred in her. Maybe Carlos had come to his senses?

She turned and peeked through the peephole-just in time to see Carlos carrying the box a few steps away, then crouching down and digging through it.

Inside were all the gifts he had given her-ceramics, trinkets, books, a bunch of random little things.

He rummaged for a while, then pulled something small out and stuffed it into his coat pocket.

Then he left the box behind and entered the elevator.

No way.

Emily blinked hard.

Had he just taken the one valuable item in that whole box-the gold brooch?

Rage surged like a tidal wave, obliterating any lingering sentiment. It shredded every rosy filter she had ever applied to their relationship. Even the most beautiful memories instantly turned to ashes, fanning the flames of her fury.

Emily collapsed onto the bed, punching her pillow over and over, but the image wouldn't leave her head.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Carlos looking like he was the wronged party.

She lay there, eyes wide open until dawn.

But she had only taken half a day off. In the afternoon, she forced herself to get ready and go to work.

Dump the scumbag, yes. But she wasn't about to lose her performance bonus.

--

"The Universe Bank interview's been pushed to next Thursday at three," said her editor Bella, not looking up from her computer. "But we'll need to change the angle. Get me a new outline as soon as possible."

"Okay."

Bella raised an eyebrow at Emily's lifeless tone. "This kind of stuff happens all the time. You've had a smooth ride so far, mostly thanks to your looks. You know how many reporters make ten calls and get five in meetings, three brushing them off, and two who 'aren't available'? If you're already discouraged, what about the future?"

"I'm not upset. Actually, I should thank Aiden," Emily said flatly. "Otherwise I wouldn't have found out my boyfriend-ex-boyfriend-was cheating."

"What? He's an ex now?" Bella seemed shocked, but by the end of her sentence, her tone lifted with delight, practically grinning.

Emily,"..."

"Oh dear," Bella tried to feign concern. "Was I too happy just now?"

Emily didn't bother reacting. "It's fine. Just gave yourself crow's feet from smiling."

Bella's smile froze. She turned back to her screen, muttering curses and massaging her eyes. "Told you that guy wasn't it. You could do so much better."

"And what kind of guy should I go for?" Emily muttered, the memory of last night flashing in her mind. "Someone with a Rolls-Royce?"

"Why not?" Bella handed her a file. "You're smart, attractive, have a good job, and a bright future. Why shouldn't you aim high?"

That bright future was actually Bella's long-term vision for Emily.

She had poached her from another publication, planning to make her the face of The New York Times.

Emily was a top journalism grad from one of China's elite finance universities, with solid skills and an unbeatable work ethic.

But most importantly, Bella thought she was beautiful.

Even in a serious industry, beauty was eye-catching. Combine it with education and capability? That was a royal flush.

She figured once Emily had a few high-profile pieces under her belt, The Times could push her further-making her a big name, a journalist who could walk through the finance world like it was her playground.

"Oh." Emily didn't want to argue. She glanced at the file. "What's this?"

"There's a finance summit this afternoon. If you're not dead, go chase down some leads," Bella said, waving her off. "And prep for next week's interview too."

That was the benefit of having a boss with no time for drama-Emily had no time to mope. She touched up her makeup and rushed out the door.

The summit was at the new financial center, out in the city's fourth ring. Remote, still under development, barely any pedestrians-just cars.

But the location wasn't unfamiliar to Emily. She had been here for interviews often. More than that-it was where Carlos worked.

She used to wait for him here, then they'd have dinner, watch movies, and grab her favorite dessert.

And so, out of habit, after the summit ended, she turned into the dessert shop.

By the time she realized it, the staff had already welcomed her warmly.

She picked up an egg tart-Carlos' favorite.

The yellow cheese was topped with two red grapes, which now looked exactly like Carlos's annoying face.

The shop assistant watched in horror as Emily stared at the pastry like it had murdered her family.

"Um... Miss?" the staff said nervously. "It's afternoon-buy one, get one free."

Before Emily could reply, the doorbell rang. The assistant went to greet the new customer.

Emily was still staring at the tart when a familiar voice came from behind.

She turned around sharply-and met Carlos's eyes.

Carlos froze. He stood at the doorway, unsure if he should go in.

Then he looked away and pulled the woman beside him closer. "Let's come back tomorrow."

Only then did Emily notice-he was holding hands with that woman from the hospital.

No shame at all?

Dumping her last night and parading around in public today?

"But I don't want to," Angela said. She'd seen Emily, but didn't intend to leave. "I'm used to this place. I can't go a day without it."

She walked over, took a whole box of egg tarts, and glanced sideways at Emily.

Her look said she knew exactly who Emily was to Carlos-but had no guilt. In fact, she looked proud, like someone who crashed a wedding and spit in the cake, then bragged about getting the whole banquet.

Emily's temples throbbed.

Fine. I'll take it.

She threw the tart down and left without a word.

But just as she stepped outside, something struck her. She turned and caught Angela giving her a triumphant smirk.

Then her eyes dropped-and landed on the golden brooch on Angela's scarf.

The very same brooch Carlos had taken from the box.

Emily's face stayed calm, but inside, it felt like a thousand burning coals were grinding against her chest.

She walked away, but a few steps later, she snapped.

She kicked a tree by the roadside.

The tree was terrified. It had never seen such an angry woman.

Head down, chest heaving, her cheeks burned with fury.

Cars honked. She turned her head slightly-and saw Carlos and Angela leaving the shop.

Carlos carried a dessert box. Angela held his arm, bouncing to the car like a toddler.

Did she just get out of a zoo?

Emily stared until her jaw hurt, then finally turned and walked away.

She didn't know what she was doing-not calling a cab, not heading to the subway.

She just wandered, step by aimless step, down the wide, empty road.

Eventually, the sky darkened. She stopped at an intersection, hoping to hail a cab.

But then her eyes caught something.

Across the street, parked under a dim light, was a car she couldn't ignore.

A Rolls-Royce.

The license plate-exactly what she'd seen last night. The one Carlos had called "a once-in-a-city" plate.

A thought flashed through her mind.

And with it, Bella's voice echoed:

"You're smart, beautiful, successful-why shouldn't you aim high?"

The cold wind lashed her face, but her thoughts boiled like lava.

It wasn't rational. It wasn't calm.

But within three seconds, Emily made a decision that would change the course of her life.

Some people, if you don't make them pay for what they've done, won't see you as graceful or wise-they'll just think you're a fool.

Want to skip twenty years of hard work?

So do I.

Want a powerful backer?

So do I.

Even if I can't make you pay, I'll make damn sure that one day, when you grovel before me, you'll have to respectfully call me Auntie.

Emily was already beside the car.

She looked at her reflection in the window and brushed her hair back.

Her face looked a bit tired-but maybe that was a new kind of allure. Less vibrant, but with a fragile, sorrowful grace.

She knocked on the window.

Nothing happened for a long time.

Just when she thought no one was inside, the window slowly rolled down.

At first, she saw just a pair of gold-rimmed glasses with anti-slip chains.

Then, slowly, the rest of the man's face came into view.

Emily muttered a silent curse.

No one forgets a face like that.

He was the man from the Warner estate last night-the one who offered to drive her home.

Angela might have looked plain as water, but her uncle?

Now that was a whole different story.The man didn't seem too surprised when the car window was tapped, only glancing over casually.

Although it was awkward, Emily didn't think it was entirely a bad thing.

After all, hadn't he shown some interest last night?

So, Emily bent down and softly said, "Sir, my phone's dead and I can't get a taxi. Could I borrow your phone to make a call?"

Aiden didn't even turn his head, just slightly tilted his face and gave Emily a sideways glance.

In their brief eye contact, Emily couldn't tell what he meant, so she decided to be bold and said, "Or, if you're willing, you could give me a ride."

Aiden stared at her for a moment.

His long, narrow eyes and the cold quality of his glasses effectively suppressed any hint of playfulness at the corners of his eyes.

A few seconds later, Aiden slowly turned his gaze away.

"My car doesn't give rides to women with boyfriends."

Emily,"...?"

The car then sped off right in front of her, racing toward the highway.