Five hundred thousand dollars barely counted as a formal investment for Vision Capital. But it was enough to be the final nail in Nebula Tech's coffin.

After losing ownership of their core technology patents, the already teetering company collapsed like a house of cards. Bankruptcy, liquidation, mass layoffs—Jack plummeted from barely respectable executive to just another face in Wall Street's sea of unemployed.


Several months passed before I heard about him again. By then, I was preparing to attend the annual Global Technology and Investment Summit.

This summit was the compass for the entire industry; securing your own speaking slot was a status symbol in itself. And I, Emily Winston, the hottest newcomer in the investment world this year, wasn't just invited—I was scheduled to deliver a keynote during the prime time slot.

On the eve of the summit, my styling team filled my suite with dozens of haute couture dresses flown in from Paris and Milan. I settled on a deep sea blue Roland Mouret gown—a color that remained serene as the night sky in shadow, yet reflected a brilliant galaxy of stars under the lights.


"Emily, darling, you were born for the spotlight," my French stylist whispered, his impeccable eye appraising his work.

I studied my reflection—my long hair swept into an elegant French chignon that revealed my slender neck and delicate collarbones. My makeup was striking but not overwhelming, my power perfectly accentuated by that precise stroke of red lipstick. The woman in the mirror—confident, composed, radiant—bore no resemblance to the T-shirt and jeans housewife I'd been just months ago.


I suddenly realized that the saying "a woman dresses up for the one she loves" is complete bullshit. When women dress up, it's never about pleasing someone else—it's a declaration: this is my battle armor, this is my world.

The next day, I stepped onto the massive circular stage, feeling thousands of eyes surge toward me like a tide. Frank and our executives sat in the front row, beaming with pride; CEOs from competing firms watched with wary curiosity; and then I saw... Liam.

He sat dead center in the VIP section, ignoring the slides on the giant screen behind me. His gaze never wavered from me. That look—focused and profound like a warm ocean—instantly washed away my last trace of nervousness.

I took a deep breath, stepped to the podium, and the world fell silent.

My speech, "Beyond Algorithms: Investment Philosophy and Humanistic Care in the AI Era," skipped the clichéd business models. Instead, I tackled the ethical boundaries of tech development and how investments could drive social progress. My voice carried to every corner—confident, calm, yet crackling with undeniable power.

I watched the audience transform—from initial scrutiny to rapt attention to genuine admiration. I'd won them over. Not as Arthur Winston's daughter, but as Emily Winston herself, with my own wisdom and vision.

When I finished, thunderous applause erupted, rolling through the hall in waves.

I smiled and bowed graciously. As I turned to exit, my gaze swept across a distant corner of the venue.

And then I saw him.

Jack.

He wore an obviously ill-fitting cheap suit, his hair greasy, his expression haggard. He blended into the crowded general section like a dejected stray dog. Beside him, pressed tightly against his side, sat an equally gloomy-faced Chloe. Her heavily made-up face couldn't conceal her deep-seated jealousy and malice.

They sat there, heads tilted up, watching me bask in flowers and applause.

The moment our eyes met, I caught the complex emotions in Jack's gaze—shock, remorse, resentment, and even a hint of... pleading. Chloe glared at me like I was a thief who had stolen her entire life.

I simply withdrew my gaze, as if I'd spotted two irrelevant strangers.

They no longer deserved any emotional response from me. My indifference was the cruelest punishment I could inflict.

I descended from the stage and was immediately swarmed by enthusiastic investors and reporters. I smiled, shaking hands and answering questions with perfect composure.

Just then, a warm coat draped gently over my shoulders, which had grown cold in the formal dress.

I turned around. Liam.

He'd somehow navigated through the crowd to stand beside me. With subtle authority, he created space between me and the overeager reporters. Leaning close, in a voice only I could hear, he whispered:

"Tonight, you outshine every star in the sky."

His voice was deep and magnetic, like a cello's melody vibrating near my ear. I caught his familiar, crisp cologne mingled with his unique scent, giving me an inexplicable sense of comfort.

I looked up, meeting his smiling eyes. In those profound depths, I saw my own reflection—radiant and brilliant.

I couldn't help but smile, genuinely and brightly.

He said nothing more, but under everyone's watchful eyes, he took my hand with natural ease. That dry, strong warmth traveled from our palms straight to my heart in an instant.