Chapter 1

Dustin Hart, a scion of Captorn's upper crust, finally recovered after being in paralysis for three years. To celebrate, his friends hosted a party at a private club. At the entrance, Melanie Wright stood with a carefully chosen gift in her hands. Just as she reached for the door, she overheard him and his friends talking inside. "Dustin, Melanie's been incredible to you. Without her, you wouldn't have recovered this well." "Exactly," another friend agreed. "She gave you massages every day and stayed by your side through therapy. She could hardly sleep at night, fearing you might have a breakdown. You owe her for life." "Yeah, she's great." Dustin's gentle baritone drifted across the room. Melanie's fingers trembled as warmth stirred in her chest. "So, when are you going to marry her?" someone suddenly asked. Silence fell over the room. Her hand froze midair, her heart pounding. She held her breath, as if she were waiting for a final judgment. At last, Dustin's calm voice broke the silence. "I only see her as my sister." "Sister?" His friend's voice rose an octave. "But she took care of you for three years! "Dustin, don't tell me you're still hung up on Jane. When you got in the accident back then, she left without a word of concern and only returned now that you've recovered. You can't possibly have feelings for her, can you?" Dustin remained silent. Outside the door, Melanie's chest tightened. His silence had already made it very clear. She had thought that spending three years with him would earn his love, but it turned out that his heart had always belonged to the woman who abandoned him. Three years ago, Dustin was still the hottest catch, way out of everyone else's league. He graduated from a prestigious university, was the heir to his family business, skilled in both skiing and equitourism, and with such striking looks—he was everything every man wanted to be. Melanie, however, was only a poor student sponsored by the Hart family. She first saw him at a school award ceremony. He stood tall and aloof on the stage, like an untouchable deity. She sat in the last row, not even daring to clap too loudly with the financial aid envelope in her hands. Back then, Jane Sawyer was with him. She was the campus belle who matched him in terms of family background and looks. Everyone said they were a match made in heaven—until that car accident happened. Dustin's spine was damaged, and the doctor announced he might never walk again. Jane didn't even visit him—she vanished after sending him a breakup text. The Hart family's once-adored heir fell from grace overnight. He became aggressive, depressed, and even attempted suicide. His parents wept but couldn't do anything. That was when Melanie appeared. Crouching before his wheelchair, she whispered, "Dustin, everything will be fine. I'll stay with you." From then on, she learned massage techniques and slept only two hours a night for fear that he might let his suicidal thoughts get the better of him. When he smashed a stool against his legs in despair, she threw herself in the way and took the blow. Years passed, but she never left. Eventually, she became the most important person in his life. He could only sleep when she was with him. Now that Dustin had recovered, everyone assumed he would marry Melanie. Even she herself had allowed that hope to take root. But now, she knew better. He was healed, and Jane had returned. It was time for her—who was only a sister to him—to step back and retreat behind the scenes. Melanie took a deep breath and opened the door. The chatter in the room came to an abrupt stop. Everyone's heads snapped toward her, guilt flickering in their eyes. "Melanie? When did you get here?" someone asked cautiously. "Just now." She smiled, as if she'd heard nothing, and handed the gift to Dustin. "Congratulations on your recovery." He was about to accept it when the door swung open. Jane stood at the entrance, her eyes red-rimmed. "Dustin, I heard you've recovered. I'm here to congratulate you." Tension hung thick in the air. "What are you doing here?" One of Dustin's friends scowled. "When Dustin got in an accident back then, you vanished without a word. How do you have the nerve to show up now?" Embarrassment crossed Jane's face. Tears welled up in her eyes as she shoved her gift in Dustin's hands and turned to leave. But Dustin suddenly grabbed her wrist. "Since you're here, stay." Everyone was stunned. They instinctively glanced at Melanie, who stood there with an unwavering smile, though her nails had already dug deep into her palms. So, three years of sacrifice meant nothing compared to a single drop of tear from Jane. The rest of the gathering was suffocating. Dustin's friends ignored Jane on purpose, teasing Melanie and Dustin instead. "Melanie, didn't you give him massages every day during rehab?" "Of course. She's a pro. Dustin only let her touch him—if it were anyone else, he'd lose his temper!" Melanie hung her head low, pretending not to notice the jealous glare Jane cast her way. Dustin might have said nothing, but she could sense his attention was entirely on Jane. Later, someone suggested they play games. Jane lost first, and her punishment was to ask a guy for his number. She glanced at Dustin right away, her eyes pleading. But he lowered his head and fiddled with his phone, as though he hadn't noticed her. Jane bit her lip and rose in defiance. "Fine. I'll do it." She strode toward the next booth and was quickly surrounded by several men. One drunken man grabbed her wrist. "Hottie, you can have my number—but can I touch you first?" "Let go of me!" Jane's scream rang out. Dustin shot to his feet, storming over to punch the man right in his face. "How fucking dare you?" Things quickly got out of control. "Dustin! Stop fighting!" His friends pulled him back. He had just recovered, and Melanie was worried that he might get hurt. She also rushed forward to intervene. "Dustin, don't—" Before she could finish, Dustin shoved her aside. "Move!" Caught off guard, Melanie stumbled and tumbled down the stairs. Her head struck the floor with a sickening thud. Warm blood streamed down her forehead, blurring her vision. She managed to sit up, only to see Dustin walking away with Jane in his arms. He didn't even look back. Her chest felt as though it had been torn open, the pain so sharp she could hardly breathe. Memories of their past flooded her mind. Back when his legs were crippled, Dustin once tried to smash them with a chair. But she rushed in front of him, taking the blow for him instead, and ended up breaking three ribs. "My legs are already useless!" he had roared, his eyes red with rage. "Ruining them doesn't matter. But do you have a death wish? Don't you know what you're doing?" Cold sweat trickled from Melanie's forehead, but she still clung to his legs and whispered, "I know. That's exactly why I have to stop you. Because one day, I'll make sure you walk again." That was when Dustin, who had always been proud and aloof, pulled her into his trembling arms and choked out, "Melanie, don't leave me…" Everyone said Dustin's recovery was a miracle. But only the two of them knew that wasn't true—it was all thanks to her relentless effort to drag him out of the abyss. And now that he had overcome his trauma, he no longer needed her. Just then, Melanie's phone rang. Shaking, she pulled it out and glanced at the caller ID. Miriam Dawson's name flickered on the screen, and her heart skipped a beat. She already knew what this call implied. Sure enough, as soon as she answered, a gentle but firm voice came through. "Melanie, you must understand. Dustin is now a listed company's CEO. His wife cannot be someone without a background or status—someone who cannot help him in his career. "I'm grateful for your loyalty these past three years. But remember, if it weren't for our family's support, you would never have gone to college. Consider our debt repaid. Let this be the end of it, alright?" Miriam paused, as if she were anticipating Melanie's breakdown or desperate pleas. Melanie stared down the corridor where Dustin had vanished. It lay empty, as if mocking her years of one-sided devotion. "Alright." She sounded surprisingly calm. "I'll leave. I won't ever show up in front of him again."