Seven Years of Love Seven Minutes of Truth

Chapter 1

To force me into breaking off our engagement, my fiancé orchestrated my father’s company’s downfall, driving it to bankruptcy and leaving him drowning in millions of dollars of debt.

The shock made my father collapsed from a heart attack and was rushed into emergency care.

Desperate and out of options, I knelt before my fiancé, tears streaming down my face, begging him to help cover my father’s surgery costs. But he only looked down at me with cold indifference.

Then, just as all hope seemed lost, Atlas Whitmore, my childhood best friend, returned from abroad.

Without hesitation, Atlas pulled every string necessary to get my father the best medical care. He stayed with me through endless nights, never leaving my side, offering quiet reassurances when my world was crumbling.

But a week later, my father suffered another sudden attack.

As his life slipped away, Atlas knelt by his bedside, his voice trembling with emotion as he made a solemn vow–he would marry me and take care of me for the rest of his life, so my father could leave this world without worry.

After the funeral, hollow and broken, I finally severed all ties with my fiancé.

Instead, I chose Atlas.

For five years, I thought I had found peace, that I had been saved from my grief.

Until one night, I stumbled upon a conversation that shattered everything.

“You really outplayed me on this one. Got Celeste to walk away willingly, like the clingy fool she is. But tell me–what do you think she’d do if she found out it was you who destoryed her father? Will she’d want to kill you?”

My fingers hesitated on the polished brass handle of the private lounge door.

rang out, low and

from his voice. “Celeste trusted you like a brother, loved you

breath caught in my throat.

alcohol and

took the blame for you because of Ivy,” he bit out, his words laced with something bitter. “I never cared for

as glass met wood, the sound edged with suppressed fury. Then came Atlas’s voice

of Love.

粒粒

Chapter 1

of my life making it up to her. The only reason I helped you back then was for

a slow,

dear Celeste… after all, you killed her father. Be careful, Atlas. The dead have a way

sound of glass shattering against the door jolted me back

turned on my heel and walked away, my heart pounding like

was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of liquor and smoke. My hands trembled as I reached for

the alcohol burned down my throat, tears welled in my eyes. I never drank. But tonight, I needed something–anything–to drown out the words replaying in

who ruined

man I had spent five years sharing a bed with, waking up next to,

first attack, he must have said something, done something, to trigger

father’s eyes had been locked onto him in those final moments. The look I had thought was gratitude–relief that I

It was rage.

The love,

had never been love at all. It was guilt. A hollow, meaningless compensation.

my own ears. The taste of alcohol turned to ashes on my tongue, my stomach churning with something

staring blankly at my empty glass when warm arms wrapped around me from