CHAPTER 2: CHAPTER 2: JENSON, LET’S GET DIVORCED

Zinnia watched them standing side-by-side, a chill seeping into her heart.

No wonder he didn’t even look back when I mentioned divorce. His ’white moonlight’ ex-girlfriend is back.

Jenson strode over, his gaze sweeping across Zinnia’s unnaturally pale face. He frowned. "What’s wrong?"

Crystal came over as well and took Zinnia’s hand, her face a mask of concern. "Sister, your hand is so cold. You must have misunderstood. It’s my birthday today, and I haven’t been back in four years, so Mom and Dad insisted on throwing a party. Who knew I’d get a stomachache after eating the cake? Jenson had to bring me to the hospital..."

Zinnia immediately snatched her hand back. The movement was so abrupt that Crystal’s hand was left hanging awkwardly in the air. Jenson’s gaze darkened with disapproval.

Zinnia noticed, and a bitter taste filled her mouth.

So he didn’t forget our shared birthday or fail to prepare a gift. He just had someone more important to be with and give a gift to.

Masking her vulnerability with a smile, Zinnia stood on her toes and plucked the headband from his hair. "It doesn’t suit you." With a casual flick of her wrist, she tossed it, and the headband landed neatly in a nearby trash can.

The smile on Crystal’s face froze solid.

"Eighth is sick. He’s in the pediatric ward. This is his brain CT scan." Zinnia handed the report to Jenson and turned to leave, her pace quickening with every step.

After exiting the outpatient hall, she couldn’t stop herself from turning back for one last look. Jenson was accompanying Crystal upstairs. From start to finish, he never glanced back at her, not even once.

Her eyes stinging with tears, Zinnia spun around abruptly and crashed right into someone. She stumbled and fell to the ground as a vaguely familiar, middle-aged woman’s voice scolded from above.

"Young people these days! Watch where you’re going!"

"Forget it. Crystal is still waiting for us."

As the pain subsided, Zinnia looked up, only to see the hastily retreating backs of a middle-aged couple—Mr. and Mrs. Sutton.

Zinnia dazedly recalled being sick as a child, how Mr. Sutton had rushed her to the hospital in the middle of the night. Mrs. Sutton would hold her small hand and say, "Zinnia, be a good girl. Mommy and Daddy are right here."

She and Crystal had been the real and fake heiresses, swapped at birth. Once the truth was discovered, the two families had immediately switched the children back.

At six years old, Zinnia lost her loving parents and gained a violently abusive biological father, York Lawrence, and a selfish biological mother, Gloria Grant.

At eight, Zinnia nearly died at York’s hands. Her ten-year-old older brother, Mason Lawrence, had carried her blood-soaked body and knelt outside the old Forrest family mansion, begging Old Madam Forrest to adopt Zinnia, citing the close friendship she and Old Mrs. Sutton had shared since their youth. Jenson had appeared through the wind and snow, scooping Zinnia up and carrying her into the Forrest home...

Sixteen years ago, Crystal appeared, and Zinnia lost her home. Now, Crystal had appeared again.

It feels like fate. I’m going to lose everything... But I’m too exhausted to fight for it anymore.

It was already late summer. The sky was thick with clouds, and though the branches overhead were still lush and green, the night breeze carried a distinct chill. Hugging her arms to her chest, Zinnia limped down the street. A group of dance students passed by, their cheerful laughter echoing far behind them.

Zinnia stopped, staring into the distance.

She was six years younger than Jenson. To catch up to him, she had skipped grades, gaining admission to the top dance academy at just fifteen. She graduated at eighteen, and though a professor recommended she study abroad, Zinnia gave up the opportunity.

For the past four years, she had done only one thing: wait for Jenson.

She waited for him to turn around and marry her, then guarded the empty shell of their marriage, day after day, year after year. She was only twenty-two, but compared to the vibrant youth of her peers, she felt as old as a woman in her twilight years.

Last month, a senior from her academy told her that the world-class dance master, Lise, was looking to take on a new disciple. It was an incredible opportunity, and he offered to help her submit her resume and fight for an interview. Zinnia had been hesitant then, but tonight, she had her answer.

A car horn blared, startling Zinnia from her thoughts. A taxi had pulled up, and the driver leaned out the window. "Need a ride?"

Zinnia stepped off the curb and bent down. "I don’t have any money. Will this do? It’s platinum-set diamond." She took the small stud from her ear and held it out.

The diamond was brilliant, its quality obvious even to a layman. The middle-aged driver took it. "Get in."

Zinnia gave him the address. The driver fiddled with the expensive earring. "Sovereign Court, huh? Every inch of land there is worth a fortune. You must be a rich lady. How much do you think this thing could sell for?"

Leaning against the window with her eyes closed, Zinnia murmured, "Seven figures."

The driver scoffed. "Miss, you’ve got to be kidding me..."

Zinnia said nothing more, her thoughts drifting far away.

She had been twelve that year, the age when a girl starts caring about her appearance. She and Yara Fairchild had made plans to get their ears pierced. But Gloria Grant had pricked her with needles as a child, leaving her with a deep-seated fear. She failed three times, yet she still envied other girls with their pretty earrings.

Jenson, who was studying in Y Country, somehow heard about it. He came back for the Spring Festival with an ear-piercing gun, claiming it was a toy for her to try. The man brushed her hair aside. The piercing gun clicked against her delicate ear, and before she could react—CLICK, CLICK—her ears were pierced.

"You’re the worst, brother!" she cried, chasing him and pummeling his back.

He spun around, and she tumbled into his arms. In the sunlight, he bent down and gently wiped the corner of her wet eyes. "Little Seventh, you’re such a crybaby."

Later, Jenson specially commissioned the internationally renowned designer, Hayscent, to create a custom pair of earrings just for her. They were the master’s final work, with a price tag starting at seven figures.

She rarely wore jewelry, but she had worn these earrings for ten years, never once taking them off.

Ten years... She’d thought it had grown into her flesh, fused with her very bones, but it turned out that cutting it away wasn’t agonizing after all.

On a large screen at a street corner, a gossip news program was playing. Reporters had cornered Crystal Sutton at the airport, asking about her relationship status.

"Yes, there is a man I love dearly," she said. "We separated four years ago because of a misunderstanding, but I believe true lovers will eventually end up together..." She smiled and glanced at the man beside her. Emboldened, a reporter thrust the microphone toward him.

"Mr. Forrest, is the man Miss Sutton deeply loves you?"

The man gestured for his bodyguards to move forward and shielded Crystal with his arm as they walked away together.

Zinnia tore her gaze away, a self-deprecating smirk touching her lips.

’Eventually end up together’... how wonderful... So it’s true. The wife is always the last to know when her husband is cheating.

Just then, the driver spoke up. "Ma’am... there’s a car behind us. Are they following you?"

Zinnia looked back. A black Bentley was closing in, its ostentatious license plate unmistakable. In an instant, the Bentley accelerated and screeched into a drift, cutting them off.

The driver slammed on the brakes. Zinnia was thrown forward by the inertia before the seatbelt snapped her back, making her head spin. A sharp rapping sound on the window followed.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

The rapping was unhurried, yet to Zinnia, each knock struck her heart like the tolling of a great bell. She clutched the seatbelt, her knuckles turning white, refusing to turn her head.

Jenson’s thin lips pressed into a line as he glanced toward the driver’s seat. The driver flinched under the man’s frigid gaze, feeling as though he’d been targeted by an alpha wolf on a desolate mountain. He hurriedly unlocked the doors.

The car door swung open. Jenson bent down and leaned inside.

CLICK.

The man unbuckled her seatbelt. He braced one large hand on the back of her seat and leaned in, his head turning to face her. He was so close that his breath caressed her lips. For a fleeting moment, Zinnia thought he was going to kiss her.

But he just sneered, "Zinnia, is playing dead fun?"

Zinnia, Zinnia... Since that night, he had never again called her by her pet name, Seventh, nor did he allow her to call him ’brother’.

A dull ache throbbed in her chest. Zinnia turned her head away. "Playing dead is hardly as impressive a show as a ’time management master’ puts on."

Her voice was dry and hoarse, and Jenson didn’t quite catch what she said. Without another word, he simply lifted her out of the car.

"Let me go!" she struggled.

"Behave!" His large hand tightened its grip on her backside, the soft flesh yielding under his grasp. The contact burned her skin, and Zinnia went still.

"What happened to your foot?" he demanded, his voice low.

Zinnia had taken off her sneakers, revealing gauze wrapping stained with blood.

She said nothing. Jenson’s face turned stormy. He stuffed her into the back seat before getting in himself.

BAM.

The car door slammed shut. The confined space instantly filled with the heavy pressure that radiated from him.

Zinnia had just started to move when his large hand shot out and brushed her hair away. His deep eyes sharpened as they landed on her bare earlobe.

"Where’s the earring?" he asked, his voice sharp. He pinched her soft earlobe and rubbed it harshly between his fingers.

"Ugh... I lost it..." Zinnia whimpered in pain.

Jenson let go, only to seize her chin and force her head to face him.

Out of the corner of her eye, Zinnia saw the taxi speed away and disappear around the corner, taking with it her heart, which had been worn down to gray despair.

"What do you mean, ’lost’?" he growled, his voice laced with anger.

Zinnia’s eyes burned. "’Lost’ means I don’t want it anymore!" she declared, her voice firm. "Jenson, I’m not joking or throwing a tantrum. Let’s get a divorce."

She didn’t want the earring he gave her. And she didn’t want him anymore, either!