Chapter 334

The scene replayed in my mind like a broken record.

Nathan Blackwood, the man who despised inconvenience, had purchased countless solo tickets to Silvercrest.

He had flown to Belvaux repeatedly, begging a master jeweler to craft a one-of-a-kind birthday gift for Victoria Sterling.

Some might call it preference.

But back then, I was still his wife.

Even if he felt nothing for me, he owed me basic respect.

I turned my back to Theodore Winslow, my voice flat, devoid of emotion.

It was as if I were narrating a tragic love story—one filled with melodrama and heartbreak.

Theodore knelt beside me like a devoted hound, his eyes burning with loyalty as he gazed up at me.

"For you to suffer because of that worthless woman—Nathan deserves to rot for what he did!"

A faint smile touched my lips as I waved a dismissive hand.

In the past, I would have seethed with bitterness.

Now, I felt nothing but cold amusement.

If Victoria was trash, then Nathan was the bin that held her.

She had gone from recyclable to irredeemable waste, but he had always been the container.

I was capable of love—but not blind devotion.

There was no point lingering over a trash bin.

Still, I found dark satisfaction in watching Nathan scramble for Alexa.

I wanted to see him fight desperately for me—only to lose everything in the end.

Nathan, you were always heartless.

Now, so am I.

To reach Alexa, Nathan chartered a private jet to Valmont.

As the plane soared through the clouds, memories surged unbidden.

The first year of our marriage.

Despite his hectic schedule, he had flown to Belvaux to commission Crimson Promise for Victoria.

He had groveled before a jeweler who crafted pieces for royalty.

Never before had he humbled himself so completely for anyone.

Moved by his persistence, the artisan had reluctantly agreed.

Now, Crimson Promise lay forgotten in its velvet box, never to see daylight again.

The necklace no longer symbolized love—only regret and shame.

Nathan stared blankly at the clouds outside the window.

For a fleeting moment, Evelyn’s radiant face materialized in the mist, vivid as spring sunlight.

The illusion was so real his breath caught.

His hand lifted instinctively, fingers brushing the cold glass.

Empty.

A sharp ache twisted in his chest.

"Do you know how much Young Madam adored that necklace?"

"When she heard you were giving it to Victoria, she cried until her eyes were swollen!"

"If it were her, she would have treasured your gift. She kept every tie you discarded—never throwing anything away. She would never trample on your feelings."

Agony lanced through him.

The woman he thought would cherish his love had shattered it beyond repair.

Yet even in ruins, it was something Evelyn had once wept for—something she had dreamed of.

A bitter smile curved Nathan’s pale lips.

What kind of madness made Evelyn endure three years of suffering by my side?

Why was she so obsessed with me?