The rain had soaked through Ella's clothes long before she even realized she was shivering. How could she? The cold was the least of her problems now.
She stood paralyzed at the massive iron gates of Golden Crest, her hands clutching the handle of a battered suitcase—her only possession now.
Beyond those gates, the city glittered like a mirage. The towering glass skyscrapers of the Jinyang Financial District blinked in the distance, their neon lights reflecting off the wet pavement. Solar Heights, where she used to shop in designer stores without a second thought, buzzed with life despite the downpour. And at the very top of it all, on the highest hill overlooking the city, sat the estate she had once called home.
A house so grand it might as well have been a palace.
She was once called the mistress of the house. Envied by many. Feared by some.
But in Jinyang, status was a fragile thing.
One moment, you stood in the Golden Circle, wrapped in silk and luxury. The next? You were discarded like trash, left to rot in the shadows of the city.
Her mansion. Her wealth. The love she thought she had—ripped away in a single moment.
And all because of something she never chose.
Was this her fault?
Her stomach twisted as she pressed a trembling hand over her abdomen, shielding the tiny life growing inside her.
"This child disgusts me."
Her husband's voice, cold and sharp, echoed in her mind, slicing through her like a blade.
"I tolerated you because I thought you knew your place. But now? You're nothing more than a disgrace, Annabella."
A disgrace. That was contrary to her name—graceful beauty.
She had replayed those words a hundred times since he said them.
She thought she knew pain before. Thought she had endured enough heartache for one lifetime.
But nothing compared to this.
She had loved Xiaoyang. With everything she had.
She had endured his coldness, his late nights, the way his eyes no longer lingered on her the way they used to.
She had hoped he would return to her. That the man she had fallen in love with still existed somewhere beneath that distant, unreadable gaze.
But now, she realized the truth—she had been dwelling in fantasy.
He had been looking for an excuse to throw her away.
And when he found out she was pregnant, he had used it.
A bitter laugh bubbled up her throat, but all that escaped was a choked sob.
Her fingers tightened around the suitcase handle.
"I have nothing left."
No home. No money. No one to call.
Her parents were in the US. Her phone had been confiscated by Xiaoyang's people before they shoved her out the door.
She had begged him, pleaded with him to at least let her stay until the baby was born.
He had laughed.
Laughed.
Like it was all some cruel joke.
"Do you think I'll let you stain my name with that bastard child?"
Ella squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn't cry. Not here. Not now.
She turned on unsteady legs and forced herself to move.
Step after step.
Away from the house that was never really hers.
Away from the man who never really loved her.
The rain poured harder, soaking her to the bone, but she barely felt it.
She wandered through the empty streets of Golden Crest, where the sidewalks were lined with imported marble, where sleek black cars hummed past—none stopping for a lone, drenched woman.
Even when she reached the lower districts, Jinyang's indifference remained the same.
The city never slept, but it had no place for the fallen.
The neon lights of Solar Heights flickered through the storm, advertising luxury brands she could no longer afford. Rich couples dined behind glass windows, laughing over five-star meals. Once, she had been among them. Now, she stood on the outside, watching.
Her stomach twisted in hunger.
She forced herself to walk past, heading toward Sunset Bay, where she could disappear. Maybe find shelter for the night.
Somewhere in the distance, a car's engine roared.
But she wasn't paying attention.
Not until the blinding headlights came hurtling toward her.
Honk!
Too late.
Her foot slipped. The world tilted—
And Ella was falling.
Not in the physical sense—not yet—but in the way a person does when the ground beneath them has been ripped away, leaving them suspended in a freefall they never asked for.
Her breath hitched. The rain pounded against her skin, icy needles piercing through her clothes. Her legs wobbled. The suitcase in her grip felt impossibly heavy.
Then—she stumbled.
A sharp shock of pain shot through her knees as they collided with the pavement.
She sucked in a breath, but it shuddered. Whether from the cold or from the hollow ache in her chest, she wasn't sure.
She wanted to cry.
Wanted to scream.
But no sound left her lips.
The streets of Jinyang didn't care.
Cars passed by without slowing. No one stopped for a broken woman sitting on the sidewalk, drenched and shivering.
Then—a pair of shoes stepped into her vision.
Black. Polished. Expensive-looking.
A deep voice followed. "Miss?"
Ella blinked up at him.
A man.
Tall, broad-shouldered, with a dark umbrella shielding him from the downpour. He crouched before her, his face shadowed by the dim light.
"Are you hurt?" His voice was smooth—calm but laced with something she couldn't quite place.
Ella swallowed. Hurt?
Hurt didn't even begin to cover it.
Physically? Sure, her hands and knees stung from the fall. But emotionally? She felt like she'd been cut open and left to bleed.
Still, she forced herself to speak. "I'm fine."
It was a lie, and they both knew it.
The stranger exhaled through his nose, his gaze sweeping over her soaking form. His expression was unreadable, but his fingers twitched, like he was resisting the urge to reach for her.
"Can you stand?"
Ella clenched her jaw.
Could she? She couldn't.
Her limbs felt like metal. Her body screamed in protest. But pride was a cruel thing, and she refused to look any more pathetic than she already did.
With a shaky breath, she pushed her hands against the wet pavement, trying to rise.
Her legs buckled instantly.
She barely had time to gasp before strong arms caught her.
A sharp inhale—his scent was the first thing she noticed.
Warm. Clean. Something subtly woodsy, like cedar and a hint of rain-drenched earth.
Ella stiffened. "Let me go."
"You'll fall again," he said simply.
"I don't need your help."
He arched a brow. "Clearly."
She bristled.
But before she could shove him away, he moved.
A sudden lift—her world tilted—and the next thing she knew, she was off the ground, cradled against his chest.
Ella gasped. "What the hell are you—"
"You're freezing," he interrupted. "And your lips are turning blue. If I leave you here, you'll pass out before you make it anywhere safe. I'm not that heartless, miss."
And in that moment, against every instinct screaming at her to resist, she let herself fall.
She let him carry her.
She let herself be held.
For the first time that night… she stopped fighting.
And let herself pass out.