But behind the sparkle was betrayal. One late call shattered everything—I heard him laughing about me, scheming with my father to access our company. My heart broke twice that night: once for the love that was fake, and again for the father who sold me off to save his empire.
I left it all behind—Drake, the deal, the lies. He called it strategy. I called it cruelty. But as I sat crying in the garden, Sam—our quiet, kind gardener—offered me a rose and no words, just presence. And that’s when I understood: real love doesn’t perform. It shows up—and stays.
