Chapter 300

Alexander Johnson's assault had left Amanda Lin clinging to life in the ICU. Emily Smith stood outside the ward, gazing through the glass at her paper-white face. The woman who once basked in glory as the future Mrs. Johnson now relied on machines to breathe.

"The doctor says she might not make it through tonight," the nurse whispered.

Emily's grip tightened on her purse strap. She remembered the nationally televised engagement party three months ago—Alexander's arm around Amanda's waist, declaring under flashing cameras that he'd found his soulmate. Now it was clear: just an elaborate PR stunt.

Her phone vibrated. Twenty-three missed calls from William Johnson glared on the screen. She powered it off and turned toward the elevators.

The Jinzhou sunlight stabbed at her eyes. Bodyguard Ji followed three steps behind like a shadow.

"Take me to the mall," she told the driver.

The presidential suite still carried William's scent. A note in his flamboyant handwriting lay on the nightstand: Wait for me. She crumpled it into the trash.

The mall buzzed with shoppers. Emily paused outside a noodle shop.

"Let's eat here," she said to Ji.

The way the northern man slurped noodles reminded her of William—that same ruthless intensity in every motion. A drop of broth stained Ji's cuff. When Emily handed him a tissue, she noticed the scar on his wrist.

"Afghanistan," he explained, following her gaze. "Shrapnel."

Suddenly she recalled the similar mark below William's collarbone. He'd claimed it was from falling off a horse as a boy. Now she wondered which woman had really left that souvenir.

A crystal swan glittered under boutique lights. The salesgirl gushed about its limited edition status—only 99 pairs worldwide. Swiping her card, Emily remembered Daniel Chen taking her to the recording studio for the first time. His faded jeans, his declaration that her voice was heaven-sent.

Obsidian cufflinks rested on velvet like William's eyes. Her fingers twitched toward them before retreating. "For your boyfriend?" the clerk smiled. "These symbolize 'eternal devotion.'"

Emily turned away. The display window reflected her red-rimmed eyes. Ji followed silently, the elegantly wrapped gift box in hand.

Night had fallen when they returned to the hotel. Emily watched city lights flicker to life beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. Her phone spun in her palm—still powered off.

The bedside phone rang. A Mr. Johnson waited in the lobby.

Hanging up, Emily dug out the diamond ring hidden in her suitcase for six months. William had slipped it onto her finger atop a Swiss alp, swearing it outshone the stars over the Alps.

Now she placed it inside the wedding gift box meant for Daniel.