Chapter 1 She Returned
My name is Julia Malthu.
I'm head over heels for Albert Wilde.
It's been an open secret for four years.
Last month, our families set a wedding date, with the ceremony just around the corner. But now, Albert's ex-girlfriend has returned.
Flora, the epitome of a tragic heroine, was torn from Albert's side by his mother five years ago. Forced to leave, she's now back as a celebrated actress, her comeback tinged with sweet revenge.
*Ding-dong*
An anonymous multimedia message arrives. My finger swipes the screen, revealing a video.
A man and a woman stroll down the street, indulging in the festive illumination.
A message taunts: "It's Valentine's Day, Julia, yet your boyfriend is with me."
I look at the table full of dishes I've prepared and suddenly, I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.
I purse my lips, contemplating whether to call Albert when my phone lights up. It's him.
"Julia," his voice tickles my ear through the call.
I try to keep my voice steady, feigning annoyance, "Albert, at the Hilton Hotel, you didn’t forget, did you?"
There's a brief silence, then an awkward admission, "Julia, sorry, something came up at work."
Work, right...
Of course, tending to an ex-girlfriend is 'important.'
"But I've booked the hotel, and the meal is homemade," I say, resting my chin on my hand, feigning concern.
Yet, the thought of Albert cozying up to another woman is unbearable to me.
After a pause, he replies, "Now, don’t be petulant. I'll come to you once I've handled things."
His words are dismissive, much like his attention to me over the years.
I look back at my phone— he's already hung up.
With a silent chuckle, I signal the waiter to clear the table and then take my leave.
Tick-tock, tick-tock...
The clock stealthily approaches nine.
Today's Valentine’s Day, and the streets are bustling with lovers. Through the glass elevator, the city's lights lay bare before me.
As I walk, I flip through the photos Flora sent—her and Albert under the streetlights, looking like a perfect couple, especially Albert, with his handsome features accentuated by the light, including that distinctive tear mole by his eye.
I ignore the implied provocation and save the photos, then proceed forward.
The nighttime parking lot is deserted and silent, amplifying the solitude of my walk.
Suddenly, a figure blocks my path, startling me.
He's sweating, seeming desperate, "Excuse me, are you Ms. Julia?"
"Yes," I confirm, stepping back.
He's a young man, no more than twenty, with the innocent look of a boy, dressed in a waiter's uniform—clearly a staff member here.
The young man's urgency is palpable, "Good, Mr. Wilde asked me to take you to the rooftop. I almost missed you."
I furrow my brows, "Which Mr. Wilde?"
While it's likely Albert, caution is second nature to me, especially at night.
The waiter's smile widens, "Right this way, it’s him."
He handed his phone to Julia, and sure enough, Albert's name flashed on the screen, each word of the message mirroring the waiter's earlier account without fail. Only then did Julia's guard begin to lower.
The elevator doors drew to a close, and at the same time, in the shadows, the window of a Lamborghini descended slowly. A man emerged from the car, his posture casual against the door as he puffed on a cigarette. Through the haze of smoke, he seemed nonchalant, yet there was a hint of playful malice in his demeanor.
He squinted his eyes, watching Julia leave, and then glanced at the man in the backseat. "Rupert, that girl just now, she's the Malthu family's young miss, isn't she?"
"Hmm," Rupert replied with indifferent brevity, untroubled.
"Aren't you going to save her?"
"Why should I?"
"Fair enough. After all, she's the miss who broke off the engagement with you. There's not much affection to speak of," he said, flicking ash from his cigarette before pulling the car door shut and driving off.
Meanwhile, Julia had followed the waiter up to the rooftop. Along the way, the young man lavished praise upon Albert, touting him as deeply affectionate and responsible, not to mention handsome and romantic—practically elevating Albert to sainthood.
Julia listened to the flattery, unfazed and indifferent, watching the waiter fiddle with the walkie-talkie. Eventually, she leaned against the railing to take in the night view, unaware of the waiter behind her who watched with a chilling smile.
After ten minutes, the hot air balloon rose, followed by fireworks blooming in succession. The message inscribed for all to see: Happy Engagement Julia & Albert!
It was an odd feeling. Julia found it strange, for Albert had never been one to charm women, least of all her. And right now, he was with another woman.
Furrowing her brow, Julia spoke casually, "Bring me my bag." Her purse and phone had been taken by the waiter upon arrival; it felt more secure to have them in her possession.
The waiter, absorbed in the fireworks, took his time before responding, "Ms. Julia, please enjoy the fireworks. I'll hold onto your bag for you."
This was a clear overstep for a waiter. Julia recalled pressing the elevator button herself, and it struck her as odd—such conduct was unbecoming at Hilton, the most luxurious hotel in the southern city.
She nodded as if unconcerned but quickly made for the door. However, she was not quick enough. The figure behind her moved faster, and soon a strong force pulled her back, the man restraining her neck with a reverse grip.
"Ms. Julia, and where might you be going?" he inquired as a cold object pressed against her neck, threatening her carotid artery.
Julia, terrified, dared not move.
"What do you want?"
She had been careless, not learning from past mistakes.
Her fingers whitened from the grip, she forced herself to stay calm, conversing with him, "If you're after money, I can give you whatever you ask."
Suddenly, the young man laughed. "Money? Of course, that's something your kind sees in abundance," he sneered, his entire being radiating instability.
Julia, taken aback, then pressed her lips together, "Then what do you want?"
His emotions seemed volatile, almost manic. He asked, "Albert is your fiancé?"
It was obvious, wasn't it? But Julia, cautious, simply replied, "Yes."
"Do you know Flora was Albert's ex-girlfriend?"
Julia was startled. So it was about Flora.
