A Childhood Promise, A Cold Comeback Chapter 10

A Childhood Promise, A Cold Comeback Chapter 10

The partnership between Bennett Group and Tate Group advanced steadily.

Three years later, Silas and I got married.

We chose a quaint, sun-drenched town abroad for our wedding. There, colorful wind chimes adorned every doorway and balcony.

When the breeze blew, their clear, tinkling sounds filled the air—like sincere blessings.

As the celebrations were winding down, a discreetly delivered gift arrived for me.

There was no name attached, but everyone recognized the Sullivan family’s seal on the package.

Once Silas formally assumed leadership of Tate Group, he initiated a comprehensive and relentless campaign to dismantle Sullivan Industries.

If the Sullivan family—already floundering after Mrs. Tate’s departure—had been a crumbling mansion before, Silas’s systematic efforts reduced it to scattered bricks and dust.

Silas would never forgive the family that had betrayed his mother.

I’d cooperated without hesitation—even gone further.

The Sullivans had long since faded into obscurity in our social circle.

Because I never forgave those who betrayed me, either.

I was surprised to receive a “congratulatory” gift from Lucas under these circumstances.

When I opened the box, I found a dazzling purple diamond ring inside.

A long-buried memory from my eighteenth year surfaced with startling clarity.

The details were hazy, but I remembered:

After a mock exam, I’d stayed late to help Lucas analyze his mistakes.

At eighteen, my world had revolved around him. I’d explained the questions while daydreaming about a future with him.

But I wasn’t the only one distracted.

Lucas had stared at me, his sincerity seeming genuine, “Haze, what kind of engagement ring do you like?”

We’d both blushed at the sudden, premature question.

After a long pause, I’d whispered, “Purple. I’ve always loved purple.”

Lucas’s voice had been just as soft, “I’ll remember.”

The cicadas had sung outside, and in that moment, I’d believed in forever.

“He must have liquidated the last of the Sullivan assets to afford that stone,” Silas remarked, an uncharacteristic edge to his tone. “Quite the final act for a ruined man.”

I laughed at his jealous sarcasm and tossed the ring to him, “Donate it for me.”

Because when I was sixteen, a purple wind chime had come into my life long before any ring.

Back then, the younger, more awkward Silas hadn’t cared about my family’s status.

He’d only been back in the country to handle some business for his mother, and had happened to meet the girl next door to the Sullivan mansion.

He’d overheard the girl’s mother say, “Our Hazel adores purple, you know.”

“Does she? How lovely. It’s a noble color. My favorite as well.”

On an impulse, Silas had stayed two extra days, sending someone abroad to fetch a purple wind chime for her.

During those two days, he’d watched as the Sullivan’s illegitimate son—Lucas—deliberately injured his arm to gain the girl’s sympathy.

He’d watched as she’d grown more and more caring toward this supposed “half-brother.”

A quiet, possessive jealousy took root in Silas’s heart and began its slow, relentless burn.

On the day he left, he’d knocked on her door unexpectedly, giving her the wind chime.

He’d even let himself say something bold, out of line.

Sixteen-year-old Hazel had just stood there, not angry—only saying softly, “Have a safe travel.”

Later, I found my harbor. And in its calm waters, there was no room for regret.