He Mocked My Scar, So I Left Him to His Regret Chapter 02

He Mocked My Scar, So I Left Him to His Regret Chapter 02

Bianca smiled sweetly at him.

“Thanks for remembering I don’t like spicy food.”

A second later, Holden casually shoved a handful of skewers into my hand.

Spicy sausage—my least favorite.

Bianca’s eyes were shining as she looked at him. “Have you decided which university you’re going to yet?”

Holden’s voice was calm.

“I’ve looked over all the offers you got. As for me…” He met her gaze.

“Wherever you go, I’ll go.”

He said it without a flicker of hesitation.

But I remembered. He had once promised we would get into Westbridge University together, study in the best territorial management program, and stay in the same city after graduation.

Suddenly, I was back on the night of the unified territorial entrance exam.

I’d scribbled down my answers from memory and run to find Holden, excited for him to help me estimate my score.

He’d taken one look, crumpled the paper into a ball, and tossed it in the trash.

“The exam’s over. What’s the point of checking answers?”

“Your grades have never been anything special, you’re always emotional, and you keep getting written up for cheating. You’re not going to magically do well all of a sudden.”

“If you have time to worry about your score, you’d be better off learning how to do your hair and dress yourself. At least try not to look so scary.”

He had wanted to be rid of me long before now.

By the time I surfaced from the memory, Bianca was suggesting a game of Never Have I Ever.

In the final round, only Bianca and I were left.

A classmate called out to me, his voice loud and clear. “Lucia, you’ve got this one in the bag. You have something Bianca definitely doesn’t.”

Laughter rippled through the group.

I was the only one who didn’t understand.

With theatrical slowness, Bianca traced a line down her own perfect face, from brow to jaw, mimicking the path of my scar.

Then she put one finger down.

“I lose,” she said, her voice laced with mock pity. “You have a silver scar, and I don’t. How could you not think of something that simple?”

I had won the game, but I couldn’t bring myself to smile.

Seeing I was on the verge of tears, Holden’s expression tightened. He raised his voice.

“Enough. Why bring up her scar in the middle of a game?”

He glared at the others. “If you’re going to talk about it, do it in private. Don’t say it to her face.”

I didn’t join in after that.

Someone muttered that I was killing the mood, but I didn’t respond.

I spent the rest of the night in the corner, a silent observer of a celebration that had never been for me.

By the time the party broke up, a black luxury car was idling at the curb.

The middle-aged man in the driver’s seat wore an impeccably tailored suit. He was the owner of Lockwood Real Estate and Mooncrest’s financial officer—the man who oversaw the academy’s subsidies.

In the passenger seat sat Bianca’s mother, Priscilla, a woman so exquisitely maintained she seemed to have spent her life being carefully preserved under glass.

The chatter and laughter from the party drew closer.

The man stepped out of the car, his arms full of gift bags, a broad smile on his face.

“You must all be Bianca’s classmates.”

“I’m her father. Thank you for looking after her these past three years. I brought a few graduation gifts. Bianca, hand them out for me.”

One of the girls opened her box and shrieked with excitement.

“It’s a rose-gold bracelet from Heather Jewelry! Bianca, your parents are incredible. This must have cost a fortune.”

The boys received expensive watches.

In an instant, every envious gaze was on Bianca.

When it was my turn, Bianca just rolled her eyes.

“Dad, there’s one missing.”

The man hurried through the crowd to her side.

“I’m sorry, that was my oversight. Miss, how about I make it up to you with a check—”

The moment our eyes met, he froze.

I curled my lips into a mocking smile, my voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

“No need, Officer Lockwood.”

I didn’t call him Father.

When I was five, on a night just like this one, I’d clung to his leg and cried, begging him not to leave me.

“I’ll be good. Please don’t leave me.”

“When we get to the new house, I’ll clean my own room and wash my own clothes. I’ll go to school by myself.”

“I’m scared to be alone. Please, take me with you.”

He had kicked me away without a shred of mercy.

My back slammed into the sharp corner of the coffee table, the pain so sharp it stole my breath.

He stood in the doorway, looking down at me with cold indifference.

“Your mother and I are finished. I have custody, but I won’t be raising you.”

“If you see me on the street, don’t call me Father.”

“Remember this: I have only one daughter. Her name is Bianca Lockwood.”

The year after he abandoned me, I took a bus across town to his corporate office, my arms full of academic awards.

Outside the building, I saw him carefully straightening a diamond-and-pearl-studded princess gown.

Before I could approach, I heard his assistant say with a smile, “Bianca only mentioned wanting a princess dress for her birthday, and you had an Italian designer rush one into production. You truly adore her.”

He laid the dress gently in a gift box.

“She likes it. Of course I’m going to get it for her.”

The tenderness in his eyes, the fatherly love, was something I had never known.

I realized then that being loved had nothing to do with being good enough, or with how many awards you won.

Bianca only had to exist, and she got everything.

The certificates I’d clutched so tightly on the long bus ride suddenly felt worthless.

Later, I changed my name.

I dropped Lockwood and took my mother’s surname.

From then on, I was Lucia Vega.