In the third year after returning to the Jiang Family with Jiang Huaixu, he got engaged.

The bride was not me.

I quietly shed the last tear, and as I packed my luggage, he leaned against the door.

Dressed in a suit, his tone was like discussing a business deal:

“An Qin, you who have nothing, and my fiancée who can offer me a commercial empire.”

“Choosing the latter, you understand, right?”

Yes, I understand.

He was no longer the boy from the slums who clutched my clothes and said, “Don’t leave me.”

So when Jiang’s Mother threw a check at me-

Ten million and him.

I didn’t choose him either.

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