Chapter 4

Ashton didn't show up for lunch.

Because Serena came to the office.

She was wearing a flowing white sundress, looking incredibly pale and fragile as she pushed open Ashton’s office door.

"Ashton... my head is spinning so bad. I don't think my fever is completely gone..."

I was walking over to get Ashton’s signature on some financial papers at the time.

Through the glass wall, I saw Ashton immediately drop his tablet, rush over to the couch, and place a hand on her forehead.

"Why aren't you resting at home? Chloe and I have everything under control here."

Serena leaned into his chest, her eyes pooling with tears.

"I just didn't want Chloe to think I’m useless and getting paid for nothing... and I really wanted to help you guys pick out the party favors for the engagement gala."

Ashton sighed, his voice dripping with affection.

"You worry too much. Chloe isn't that petty."

Serena bit her lip, her eyes darting toward the hallway.

She saw me.

Then, she gasped softly.

"Oh no, Ashton, my necklace is caught on your shirt button."

Ashton leaned down to untangle it.

They were so close their breaths were practically mingling.

From where I stood, it looked exactly like they were kissing.

I didn't knock. I didn't interrupt.

I just stood there, watching them for a quiet moment, and then turned back to my own office.

That afternoon, the bridal boutique delivered my engagement dress to the office.

It was a stunning, custom-made midnight-blue gown dusted with crystals, designed to look like the night sky.

Ashton had picked it out himself.

He once told me that blue was my color—deep, mysterious, and elegant.

The stylist carefully helped me try it on, but when she saw my bandaged hand, her face fell.

"Oh, Ms. Vance... this dress has tight, long sleeves. With your hand bandaged like this, it won't fit. If we force it, it's going to rip your stitches."

I stared at myself in the mirror.

My makeup was flawless, but it couldn't hide the dead, exhausted look in my eyes.

"Then cut the sleeve off," I said flatly.

The stylist gasped. "Cut it? But this is a two-hundred-thousand-dollar custom gown..."

"Cut the right sleeve," I repeated.

Just then, Ashton and Serena walked in.

Ashton’s eyes lit up with momentary awe when he saw me in the dress.

But when he heard me tell the stylist to cut it, his brows furrowed.

"Chloe, the entire beauty of this dress is its symmetry. Cutting it ruins it. Just bear with it for a few hours. Once the ceremony is over, you can take it off."

I looked at him.

"The doctor said any pressure on the wound will rip the stitches."

Ashton walked over and grabbed my left hand.

"Chloe, there will be major tech investors and media outlets there. If you walk on stage with a ripped, asymmetrical dress, what will that say about Novis MedTech's attention to detail? For the sake of the company, just deal with it."

For the sake of the company.

For the sake of appearances.

For the sake of his perfect night.

But never once did he consider whether I would be in pain.

Serena chimed in from behind him, her voice dripping with fake sweet concern.

"Yeah, Chloe, Ashton spent so much time custom-ordering this dress for you. It would be such a shame to ruin it. Besides, the bandage is on the inside, nobody will even notice. You can do it for him, right?"

I looked at Serena’s innocent, wide eyes and smiled.

"Serena, since you think it's no big deal, why don't you wear it instead?"

Serena flinched, waving her hands in panic. "Oh, Chloe, don't play like that, it's your engagement dress..."

Ashton’s face completely darkened.

"Chloe Vance, what is wrong with you lately? Serena is just trying to help, why do you have to be so toxic to her?"

I ignored him, turning to the stylist.

"Take it off. I'm not wearing it."

Ashton exhaled sharply, clearly trying to suppress his rage.

"Fine. You don't want to wear it? I'll have them send a short-sleeved option. But you better make sure you look flawless on that stage in three days!"

He grabbed Serena's arm and turned to leave.

"Let's go, Serena. Don't waste your breath on her."

The door slammed shut.

The stylist trembling as she helped me unzip the dress.

During the process, the heavy fabric dragged across the back of my hand.

A sharp, white-hot pain flared up, and warm blood instantly soaked through the white bandages.

I closed my eyes, fighting back the tears.

Ashton, you always do this.

In the name of love, you force me into the most painful compromises.

But this is the absolute last time.