Seattle.
Late Autumn.
The sky was overcast, and the north wind was biting. It was said that another cold front would arrive in the coming days.
In front of an old, grand house, a girl in a light beige trench coat stood with her hands in her pockets, unmoving for a long time. She had shoulder-length hair parted in the middle, falling down each side of her face. Her face was delicate, with no makeup at all.
Her complexion was a little pale, not the pale of fair skin, but rather the kind of pale that came from an inner fear and anguish.
After a while, the girl forced a smile, lifting the corners of her mouth, and then rang the video intercom.
"Is Uncle Donald home? I'm Natasha Portman, here to visit Uncle Donald."
With a click, the iron gate opened, and a middle-aged man who appeared to be a butler came to greet her.
"Master is in the study on the second floor!"
"Thank you!" The girl politely expressed her thanks and began walking toward the second floor of the house.
However, when she reached the stairs on the second floor, she heard the sound of an argument coming from one of the rooms— a man's angry voice.
"Marry a stranger? Not a chance!"
Then came the voice of a middle-aged man, also filled with anger.
"If it weren't for Franklin Portman's help back then, the Donald family wouldn't be where it is today! Now you're being asked to marry his daughter and help the Portman family through a tough time, what's the problem with that?"
She could tell that the older voice was that of Harris M. Donald, the patriarch of the Donald family, and the younger, cold voice… must belong to Louis Donald, Harris's son, the man she was about to marry.
It was clear that Louis Donald was vehemently opposed to the arranged marriage. He rejected once more, angrily.
"Why should I sacrifice my happiness for the Portman family's problems? I won't marry her!"
Harris M. Donald was furious.
"Natasha is beautiful, comes from a good family, and has an impressive education. How is she not better than your little girlfriend? I'll tell you this, as long as I'm alive, I will never allow that woman with nothing to enter the Donald family!"
"What's wrong with her having nothing? As long as I love her, that's enough!"
Louis Donald shot back without hesitation, and the atmosphere in the room was tense.
She could no longer bear to listen from outside. So this marriage was based on tearing apart someone else's happiness?
If that was the case, then even if the Portman family declared bankruptcy, she absolutely could not go through with this marriage. Didn't they always say it was better to destroy ten temples than to break one marriage?
She raised her hand and knocked on the door before walking in. Her gaze toward the man was calm, like still water—clear and pure.
"Mr. Donald, I'm truly sorry for causing a rift between you and your girlfriend. Since you're so unwilling to go through with this marriage, I'll speak on behalf of the Portman family and cancel it. Is that alright? Please, don't continue arguing with Uncle Donald."
The man had a handsome, elegant face, but his eyes now flashed with coldness and anger.
"Who the hell do you think you are? Are you playing with the Donald family? You Portmans think you can start a marriage just because you say so and cancel it when you feel like it?"
"I didn't mean that..."
She shook her head, trying to explain, but the man didn't give her the chance. In just a few steps, he was right in front of her, his eyes dark and vicious as if he wanted to swallow her whole. His voice was filled with fury, gritting through his teeth.
"Natasha Portman, huh? Fine! I'll marry you, but you better remember this: First, I won't waste too much time on you! Second, this is just a marriage of convenience. Don't expect me to be kind to you!"
She was momentarily stunned when she heard his words. She had thought he would continue to reject her firmly, so his sudden concession caught her off guard.
However, his following words immediately brought her back to her senses. She lifted her gaze to meet his, calm and composed. Her tone was neither humble nor overbearing.
"Alright then, Mr. Donald. Two years. No more than two years. After that, we'll get a divorce. Whether the Portman family is thriving or falling by then, we'll divorce."
"You better remember what you've just said!"
The man tossed those words at her coldly and arrogantly before turning on his heel and storming out.
She lowered her eyes, a faint, bitter smile curling at the corner of her mouth. Did he really think she was willing to accept this marriage? She had her own love in England, a warm relationship she cherished.
If it weren't for her father's lifelong efforts, who would be willing to bury their own love like this?
On the side, Harris M. Donald, the patriarch of the Donald family, saw her standing there with her head lowered and mistakenly thought she was hurt by Louis Donald's words. He hurried over to comfort her.
"Natasha, that kid has such a foul temper. Don't let him get to you. I'll give him a good talking-to later!"
Harris M. Donald had a great fondness for Natasha Portman. Previously, because Natasha had been studying abroad, Harris M. Donald had no real impression of her. However, Franklin Portman, the patriarch of the Portman family, was a benefactor to Harris M. Donald, and he knew very well the kind of man Franklin Portman was. He was confident that the daughter he raised would not be lacking in any way. So, when Franklin Portman mentioned the idea of a marriage alliance, Harris M. Donald agreed without hesitation.
Meeting the girl today, she did not disappoint him. Even in such a dire situation, she still maintained a sense of purity and pride, like a plum blossom standing tall in the cold winter—dignified and graceful, neither humble nor arrogant, knowing when to advance and when to retreat.
The primary reason Harris M. Donald agreed to this marriage alliance was to help the Portman family, but another reason was to sever his son's relationship with that commoner girlfriend. Now, seeing Natasha Portman, he had a new thought: he wanted his son to form a real, lasting marriage with her.
After hearing Harris M. Donald's comforting words, Natasha Portman looked up and smiled slightly, shaking her head.
"Uncle Donald, I'm not angry with him. Please don't blame him; anyone would be upset in this situation. He's been very tolerant."
Her words made Harris M. Donald even more satisfied with her. Look at her, so sensible—if she really became his daughter-in-law, that would be wonderful.
Natasha Portman sincerely thanked Harris M. Donald.
"Uncle Donald, I'm truly grateful for your help this time. I really don't know what to say other than thank you…"
Although she had just returned from the UK, she had already heard from her mother on the phone about how people were avoiding her family like the plague. Harris M. Donald smiled kindly.
"Alright, alright, there's no need for formalities. I heard you just got back from the UK. Go and see your parents quickly!"
"Okay, then I'll leave now!"
She nodded and turned to leave. When she reached the door, she paused and bowed deeply to Harris M. Donald in gratitude.
"Thank you!"
Having never experienced such a dire situation, she truly understood how invaluable the help from others could be.
She walked along the quiet pathway after leaving the mansion, feeling dazed and exhausted. When she raised her hand, she realized her face was covered in tears, cold and damp.
How could she not be sad? How could her heart not ache?
She had just buried her own love with her own hands.
The man who loved and cared for her, the man who was both a mentor and a friend, the man she thought she would spend her life with, was now a stranger to her.
She had to bid farewell to the director career she had yet to fully pursue, a dream she had cherished.
The beautiful dreams she once wove in her mind, yet to be realized, were now shattered.
She had to hide away all of her weaknesses and childishness.
She was only twenty, still thinking she had so much time ahead of her—youth and freedom to squander. But now, she was forced to rapidly transform into someone who would manage the Portman family's media empire.
Despair, fear, insecurity, helplessness—these overwhelming emotions rushed through her mind. She collapsed on the ground outside the Donald mansion, holding herself, silently crying.
She wasn't the type to cry, but this time, she couldn't hold it in.
She didn't know how much time passed before a cold, mocking voice came from above her.
"I thought people who couldn't stand others' tears would never shed their own!"
She didn't need to look up to know who was mocking her, and she understood the intent behind those words.
In fact, they had met before, just earlier that day.