Lucas still said nothing.

Julian crawled desperately, crawling toward Lucas’s feet, grabbing his pant leg.

"I’m begging you," he said, snot and tears smearing his face. "Tell me, is she still alive? Where is she? That’s all I want to know—I just want to know she’s alive."

Lucas looked down at him, at the hands clutching his pants, at his pathetic, shattered appearance.

"What right do you have to ask?" he said.

Julian was stunned, looking up at Lucas. That face, clean and composed, his suit perfectly tailored, just standing there.

By what right?

By what right does he stand there and interrogate me?

By what right does he hang me up and throw me into a water tank?

By what right does he vent Nina's anger for her?

Who does he think he is?

A fire ignited in the depths of Julian’s heart. He didn't know where the strength came from, but he braced himself to crawl up, steadied his stance, and grabbed Lucas by the collar.

"You ask me what right I have?" His eyes were bloodshot, tears still streaking his face, but his gaze had changed. "Then what about you? What right do you have to vent her anger for her?"

Lucas didn't move, nor did he pull away; he just looked at him.

"Who the hell are you?" Julian roared. "The man who failed to marry her three years ago? The man who failed to win her heart? You’ve got her locked away, haven't you?"

Lucas’s brow twitched.

"What right do you have to lock her away!" Julian screamed, veins bulging on his forehead. "Does she want to go with you? Does she want to see you? Does she want to be hidden away by you? What right do you have to make decisions for her? What right do you have to take revenge for her? Who are you to her!"

He finished his roar, gasping for air, his hands clutching Lucas’s collar trembling violently.

Lucas looked at him, his gaze serene.

Suddenly, a voice came from behind them.

"I think I have the right now."

Julian went completely rigid.

He whirled around. Someone stood at the doorway.

Black clothing, long hair flowing down, a face slightly pale—Nina.

Chapter 16

Julian stared at her. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

He rubbed his eyes, thinking it was a hallucination. She was still standing there. She took two more steps forward, standing in the light.

It was her.

It was really her.

"Nina," his voice was hoarse. "Nina."

Tears surged out instantly.

He knelt on the floor, looking up at her, tears smearing his entire face.

He didn't know why he was crying; he just couldn't stop. They welled up from his eyes, flowing into his mouth—salty, bitter.

"You’re alive," he muttered, his voice trembling. "You’re alive—thank god, thank god."

He braced his hands to crawl up, but his strength failed, and he slumped down.

He tried again, and fell again. The third time, he finally stood up, staggering as he walked toward her.

Reaching her, he reached out, wanting to grab her hand.

Wanting to touch her to see if she was real.

Wanting to confirm she was alive.

Just as his fingertips touched the back of her hand, Nina recoiled, pulling her hand away.

Julian’s hand hung in mid-air.

He lifted his head, looking at her.

Julian’s hand stiffened, then slowly retracted.

"Nina," he called again. Nina said nothing.

Lucas, standing by her side, walked over, pulled a pack of wet wipes from his pocket, drew one out, and handed it to Nina.

Nina took it, lowered her head, and meticulously wiped the back of her own hand—the exact spot Julian had just touched.

She wiped it very thoroughly. Once, twice, three times. She wiped for a full dozen seconds, scrubbing that small patch of skin until it turned red.

Then she dropped the wet wipe on the floor.

It landed with a very soft sound.

Julian looked down at the wipe, then back up at her.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but he didn't know what to say.

"That divorce certificate," he started, his voice cautious. "What does it mean? You’re joking with me, right?"

Nina lifted her eyes to look at him.

"Divorce means," she said, "you don't understand?"

Julian froze.

He understood. Of course he understood. But he didn't want to understand.

"We can't," he said, his voice trembling. "We can't divorce."

Nina said nothing.

"We haven't talked," he said. "We haven't had a proper talk."

"Talk about what?"

Nina spoke up. "Talk about why you insisted on protecting her? Talk about why you didn't believe me? Talk about what you were thinking when you pushed me out there?"

Julian’s lips trembled.

"Julian," she said. "I’ve thought about what you said that day for a long time."

Julian looked at her.

"You were right."

Julian was stunned. "About what?"

"We are not from the same world." Nina said. "Everything you said was true."

Julian shook his head, frantically shaking his head.

"No, that’s not what I meant. I was just speaking off the cuff."

"You weren't just speaking off the cuff." Nina interrupted him. "You truly felt that way. When I invited you to my company’s annual meeting, you felt I was showing off. When I invited you to parties with my friends, you thought I was flaunting. When I gave you those gifts, you felt I was giving you charity."

Julian opened his mouth.

"Do you know why I gave you those things?" Nina asked.

Julian didn't speak.

"Because I liked you," Nina said. "Because I wanted to give you the best things in the world. Every time I saw those things, I thought: he would definitely like this. He could definitely use that. I bought them and gave them to him, thinking he would definitely be happy."

She looked at him.

"But you felt I was showing off, giving charity, humiliating you."

Julian’s tears fell.

"That’s not..."

"You did," Nina said. "You always did."

Julian stood there, as if all the strength had been drained from his body.

Nina looked at him for a while.

Then she turned and walked away, Lucas following her.

Julian suddenly snapped out of it and rushed up to block her path.

"Nina!" She stopped and looked at him.

Julian stood before her, gasping for air. "You," his voice trembled, "have you..."

"Have you ever..." he started again, his voice rasping uncontrollably, "have you ever loved me?"

Nina didn't say a word, bypassing him and continuing to walk.

Lucas followed behind her, but paused as he passed by Julian.

"She ran a high fever all night yesterday," he said. "Forty degrees. She just came from the hospital."

Julian stood in place, watching their backs get further and further away.

Then he looked down at the wet wipe on the ground.

White, soiled, stained with traces of her.

He squatted down and picked it up.

He clutched it in the palm of his hand.

Chapter 17

One month later.

Nina stood in the garden of the old Lu family estate, bathed in the warmth of the sun.

"What are you thinking about?"

Lucas walked over, carrying a cup of tea.

Nina took it. "Nothing," she said.

Lucas stood beside her, looking out at the garden in the distance. The roses were in full bloom, red, pink, and yellow, crowded close together.

"You’ve been living here for a month," he said.

"Mm."

"People on the outside are all guessing where the Sinclair heiress has gone."

Nina didn't speak.

Lucas turned to look at her. "Do you want to go back?"

Nina thought for a moment and shook her head. "No."

Lucas nodded, not asking again.

After a moment of silence, Nina spoke up. "Thank you for what happened that day."

Lucas was stunned for a moment. "Which day?"

"The day you threw him into the water tank."

Lucas chuckled. "You’re welcome. I’d wanted to beat him up for a long time."

Nina smiled faintly as well.

Lucas looked at her profile, the sunlight softening her silhouette. "What do you want to eat tonight?" he asked.

Nina turned to look at him.

"You ask that every day."

"Because you say 'whatever' every day."

Nina was stunned for a moment, then laughed softly.

"Then let's have 'whatever'."

Lucas watched her laugh, the corners of his mouth curling up too.

"Alright, 'whatever' it is."

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city.

Julian stood in front of a mirror, looking at his own face.

The swelling on his face had gone down, and the injuries on his body were mostly healed. Only a faint ring remained on his wrist, a scar from being hung up that day.

He touched the scar, remembering what happened.

He took a deep breath, grabbed his coat, and went out.

It was the same coffee shop, the same seat.

He sat by the window, looking across the street.

That was the old Lu family estate. He had looked it up—she had been living there for the past month.