Year After Year Infatuated

When Vivienne sent provocative text messages from an unknown number, I was sitting at a café meeting with my lawyer.

【If I were you, I’d pack my things and get the hell out of the Vance Group and this house right now. Why do you think you managed to stay by Julian’s side all these years? Because I dumped him. Now that I’m back, do you seriously think he’d still want a substitute like you?】

【I thought those college incidents would have made you realize the gap between us. To think that after I spent a few years abroad, you actually dared to play the toad trying to eat swan meat. Looks like the warnings back then weren’t harsh enough.】

【Evelyn, how can you be so utterly shameless? I’m back, and you heard us register our marriage; we even have a child on the way. Do you seriously intend to squeeze in between us as a mistress? You really are despicable. At home, you spent five years acting as an unnamed bed warmer and maid; at the office, you’re still just a tea-pouring assistant. Do you love serving people that much?】

【Do you know why Julian didn’t return to the bedroom that night? You must have heard the noises, right? Let me spell it out for you: he spent that night with me. When he went to see clients, he brought me along—not you. Haven’t you figured out yet that he finds you utterly humiliating?】

【Did you really think he was the one who sent you that address? He wouldn’t be caught dead bringing you along. I was the one who took his phone and sent it to you. He trusts me so completely he even handed his phone over to me. Has he ever trusted you like that?】

Stab after stab of provocation, intended to churn up my stomach with nausea. I glanced briefly at the phone screen and ignored it entirely.

Lifting my head, I resumed discussing corporate equity and property transfer procedures with my lawyer.

I had recently remembered that the house Julian Vance and I lived in was actually registered under my name.

Back then, because I helped Julian Vance secure a massive corporate contract, he was ecstatic. Coincidentally falling on my birthday, knowing I wished to buy a home, he paid the down payment and casually cleared the remaining balance for me.

Afterward, he and I moved in together, and as the years slipped by in a blur, I had almost forgotten that the legal ownership fundamentally belonged to me.

As for shares, I held a 5% stake in the Vance Group. While the company was currently on an upward trajectory and selling now might not yield peak returns, I refused to maintain any lingering ties with Julian Vance, making a complete liquidation the optimal choice.

Besides, going abroad required capital.

For several consecutive days, I quietly handled these transactions in secret, entirely indifferent to Julian Vance and Vivienne.

The two of them, perhaps sensing my total immunity, interacted with even more unbridled brazenness in front of me.

Vivienne even dared to order me around right in front of Julian Vance, asking me to pour tea before wearing a deliberately distressed expression: “You’re not upset with me, are you?”

Julian Vance immediately interjected: “You’re overthinking it. She genuinely loves doing these household chores.”

That tone of taken-for-granted assumption acted like a mirror, reflecting how devoid of self-respect I had been in the past.

Why on earth had I ever willingly and uncomplainingly done all these things for Julian Vance back then?

It was because I loved him, which made me care for every single detail of his life and matters big and small.

Yet in his eyes, it was simply because I enjoyed doing chores.

How laughable. Who on earth is born loving domestic chores?

“Still not going to pour it?”

Seeing me stand still, Julian Vance shot me a cold glare.

Lately, both at home and at work, he treated me with extreme coldness.

His tone made no effort to conceal his displeasure toward me.

Yet perhaps because men are creatures whose upper and lower halves function independently, despite treating me like a thorn in his side all day, he still insisted on sharing my bedroom at night.

“Evelyn, what on earth is your problem?”

After his romantic advances were rebuffed yet again, the perpetually arrogant man finally snapped.

“If you have any grievances, spit them out. Is there any need to drag out this cold war for so long?”

My wrists were pinned firmly to the mattress, unable to budge. My expressionless, tranquil eyes stared straight at him: “Get away.”

Stormy emotions churned within his dark pupils: “Why?”

“You’re filthy.”

His breathing hitched, and his grip on my wrists tightened involuntarily: “How am I filthy?”

I sneered.

Seeing my silence, the shred of reason restraining him snapped completely. He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine.

“You think I’m filthy? Then I’ll kiss you now, and you’ll be filthy too.”

Borne of intense fury, it carried a childish, absurd defiance.

“You’ve been kissed by me now, do you want to chop your mouth off?”

Gritting his teeth, ignoring my desperate struggle, he kissed me wildly like an act of retaliation.

Until a sharp slap landed heavily across his face.

With a resounding “Crack”, the chaotic wrestling inside the room finally fell dead silent.

“Not allowed?” He looked dazed, mixed with a hint of aggrieved grievance, “You’re my girlfriend, is it really a crime for me to kiss you?”

“You know very well that even between lovers, behavior like this when I clearly refuse constitutes sexual assault, right?”

His face stiffened.

And turned deathly pale in an instant.

Glaring at me through gritted teeth, he ultimately released his grip, slammed the door shut, and stormed out.

Following that day, Julian Vance never stepped foot into the master bedroom to sleep again.

To put it accurately, he completely ignored me, treating me like nonexistent air.

Every single day, he and Vivienne relived their past romance right in front of my face without a shred of shame.

Even as my belongings steadily vanished from the house piece by piece, he failed to notice a single thing.

On the night before my flight, Vivienne complained of stomach pains, prompting Julian Vance to sweep her up in his arms in the middle of the night and rush her straight to the hospital.

He didn’t return for the entire night.

While waiting at the airport for boarding, right before turning off my phone, I saw a text message sent by Julian Vance:

【I’m wondering why you suddenly took a fancy to cooking last night; was that dish intentionally undercooked? Don’t you know pregnant women shouldn’t eat unfamiliar seafood?】

【I thought you were just throwing a tantrum, but I never expected you to pull such a malicious stunt to harm someone’s life. You’ve disappointed me beyond words. What did Vivienne ever do to you? If you have a grudge against me, take it out on me, why involve an innocent person? If anything happens to her child, I will never forgive you!】

I had simply wanted to cook one final meal before leaving, never imagining it would hand Vivienne an opportunity to frame me.

Notifications pinged incessantly on my phone, which I chose to leave unread, safely assuming it was just Julian Vance cursing me out.

Realizing I wasn’t replying, he began calling frantically.

The boarding gate was already open.

I powered down the phone, popped out the SIM card, snapped it in half, tossed it straight into a trash can, and walked forward to clear security.

Julian Vance, from this moment onward, our paths diverge forever with no further entanglement.