Eight Years Of Love, A Wedding Ring For Another Woman Chapter 07

Eight Years Of Love, A Wedding Ring For Another Woman Chapter 07

A month later, Vanessa’s father was sentenced to fifteen 

years, and Sinclair Group was forced into bankruptcy liquidation. 

Not long after that, more and more dirt from Vanessa’s past started surfacing, including stories about her bullying classmates, fleeing the scene after a drunk–driving accident, and plagiarizing her thesis. 

No one in her circle wanted anything to do with her anymore. 

Even her own mother cut ties with her. 

She moved out of the villa and rented a place in a run–down 

neighborhood on the outskirts of the city. 

When reporters tracked her down, the photos showed she had 

put on weight, with tangled hair, cheap clothes, and a 

container of greasy takeout noodles in her hands. 

Ethan had it even worse. 

The Carters went bankrupt, his father was under 

investigation, his mother was left paralyzed and bedridden, 

and Ethan himself was fired by his company. No matter where 

he applied after that, no one would hire him. 

Someone said they had seen him hauling bricks at a 

construction site, covered in dust while people around him 

whispered and pointed. 

One day, I was stopped at a red light when I saw him walking 

past my car. 

He had gotten much thinner, his back bent, his head lowered, and his whole body sagging as if life itself had pressed him 

down. 

He never looked up, so he did not see me. 

The light turned green, and I pressed the gas and drove away. 

I felt no hatred, no satisfaction, nothing at all. 

That winter, I went to visit my parents‘ graves. 

The cemetery was quiet, tucked away in the suburbs. I crouched in front of their headstones, set down the flowers I had brought, and said softly, “Dad. Mom. The people who hurt you got what was coming to them.” 

The wind was strong enough to make my eyes sting. 

“Mom, you told me to live well.” 

“I will.” 

“I’ll live for both of you.” 

When I stood up and turned around, I saw a man standing 

behind me in a black coat, holding a bouquet of white chrysanthemums. 

It was Daniel. 

He walked over, placed the flowers in front of the headstones, bowed, and then turned to face me. “Ms. Bennett, I’m sorry. I 

asked around and found out where your parents were buried. I wanted to come pay my respects.” 

I looked at him. 

“Why?” 

He was quiet for a few seconds before he answered. 

“Because I understand.” 

“My parents were driven to their deaths too, ten years ago. 

The man responsible eventually went to prison and got eight years.” 

He paused, and although his voice stayed calm, his eyes had gone red. 

“But after he got out, he went right back to living his life. My parents never came back.” 

“So yes, I understand.” 

The wind howled through the cemetery. 

I looked at him, at this ordinary man who could disappear into 

any crowd without leaving a trace, and yet the look in his eyes 

was the same as mine. 

“Come on,” I said at last. “The road down the hill isn’t easy. We can walk together.” 

He froze for a moment, then nodded. 

“Okay.” 

Another year passed. 

I opened a gallery downtown, one that focused on curating 

exhibitions for young artists. 

Daniel became my business partner. No, that wasn’t quite right anymore. He became my fiancé. 

That day, we were sitting by the floor–to–ceiling window in the gallery while rain tapped softly against the glass outside. 

He was scrolling through the news on his phone when he 

suddenly handed it to me. 

“Look.” 

On the screen was a tabloid headline. 

[Fallen Socialite Spotted Digging Through Trash on City 

Street] 

The photo showed Vanessa crouched beside a garbage bin in a filthy puffer jacket, her hair a mess. 

I looked at it for three seconds and handed the phone back. 

“Mm.” 

He studied me. “You don’t feel anything anymore?” 

I thought about that for a moment. 

“I do. Just not satisfaction.” 

“Then what is it?” 

“Emptiness.” 

He took my hand and said nothing. 

The rain kept falling outside. I leaned against his shoulder and 

called his name. 

“Daniel.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Let’s get married.” 

He looked down at me, startled. 

“Now?” 

“Now.” 

He smiled, and a moment later his eyes had turned red. 

“Okay.”