Faye had no mind for work. She requested time off, grabbed her bag, and rushed out of theb, heading straight home.


    On the way, she was consumed by rage. The thought that Vanessa had so easily obtained thirteen percent of her father''spany-enough to live a life of luxury for the rest of her days, even if she couldn''t marry into the Goodwin family-was infuriating.


    And what about her? Her father hadn''t even given her one percent. How could she tolerate such a stark difference? She had to go home and figure out a way with her mother to turn the situation around.


    In Vanessa''s vi, a doctor and nurse had just left. Vanessay on the sofa, pressing a hand to the spot where she''d received an injection, closing her eyes to rest. She had spent most of the past week recuperating.


    Faye''s call had stirred her emotions. She had anticipated that Faye and her mother would drop all pretenses with her once they found out.


    Now that the Yeaton shares were securely in her hands, there was no way she would give them up.


    Just then, Vanessa''s phone rang. She nced at it and her expression soured. It was her mother.


    She ignored the call, but two minutes after it stopped ringing, a text from her mother, Farrah, came in. "Honey, transfer a million to my ount. I need it urgently."


    Vanessa read her mother''s demand and tossed the phone aside. She truly regretted not reining in her mother''s gambling habit years ago, which had now turned her into an addict who gambled with bigger and bigger stakes. Every time her mother contacted her, it was for money.


    Her eyes fell on several advertising contracts Laverne had left nearby. She picked one up and browsed through it, finally calling Laverne. "I''ll take the piano ad. Have someone go and negotiate the terms."


    "Alright, I''ll get someone on it right away. Vanessa, please don''t be so picky. Take a look at the other ad proposals too!"


    Vanessa had epted an offer from a domestic piano brand. The pay was good, but previously, she had looked down on such small brands. Now, however, it suited her identity as a pianist.


    "For now, I''ll just take this one," Vanessa said, a flicker of annoyance in her eyes.


    She picked up her phone and started scrolling through some videos when a news alert popped up. "Heir to Holt Properties and heiress of Quigley Group spotted on a sweet date. A happy union seems to be on the horizon."


    The apanying picture showed Henry Holt carrying a woman''s handbag in one hand and holding Selma Quigley''s hand with the other, the two of them looking blissful outside a restaurant. The image radiated sweet happiness.


    The photo stung Vanessa''s eyes. The man who once had eyes only for her had nowpletely abandoned her.


    Vanessa threw her phone away. Images of Henry''s gentle smiles, his constant care and concern, flooded hermind She remembered how he wouldly from overseas to be with her at a moment''s notice, how he had clumsily learned a piano piece just to please her, how he had promised countless times that he would wait for her forever-


    But now, all of that belonged to Selma Quigley.


    Vanessa''s heart felt like it was being squeezed by an iron fist. If she hadn''t metn, Henry would have


    been her first choice for a future


    husband. She remembered Henry telling her with red-rimmed eyes As long as you''re not married,


    always


    be here waiting for you."


    Back then, her mind waspletely consumed with winning overn, and she had callously ignored Henry''s devotion. Now, Vanessa was filled with regret. She regretted not giving Henry another chance.


    If she had turned back and epted Henry just a year ago, she would be the future Mrs. Holt now, and Selma Quigley wouldn''t have stood a chance.


    Tears of regret welled up in Vanessa''s eyes. She had been so foolish, clinging to a man who never had her in his heart while pushing away someone who truly loved her.


    "Ian, I must have owed you a life in my past life to have wasted ten years of my youth on you in this one," Vanessa muttered, gritting her teeth in frustration.


    Vanessa reached for her phone again and opened her photo gallery. She scrolled all the way back to the beginning and found pictures that documented her youth including Jan. He Ple


    one of a neen year-o


    was standing in ab corridor, wearing a clean white shirt, his eyes holding a maturity and calmness that defied his age.