Everyone knows I am Weston Montgomery's exclusively devoted, pathetic doormat of a girlfriend. If he told me to jump into a river, I jumped. If he told me to kneel in the rain all night, I knelt. I was so obedient that even when he kept a mistress on the side, I voluntarily delivered condoms to their hotel room. People in our circle praised him for raising such a good "dog," and mocked me for doing whatever it took to marry into wealth. But when he took the initiative to propose to me at a family dinner, I shook my head and refused: "I've done everything I could." "But there is no need for a wedding." 1 The atmosphere instantly became incredibly awkward. Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery exchanged nervous glances, tactfully keeping their mouths shut. Weston, who had been half-drunk and smiling, stiffened. He suddenly stood up, knocking over the dining table, and glared at me in disbelief: "You're refusing to marry me? Harper, what kind of high-and-mighty act are you putting on now?" "Haven't you been chasing after me all these years just to marry into my family? Now you're playing hard to get?" I lazily lifted my eyelids to look at the furious Weston, then turned to his parents. I stood up, nodded at them, and said: "I'm done eating. I'll be heading back now." His parents quickly stood up, grabbing Weston by both arms to stop him from doing anything drastic. They offered me an apologetic smile. "Thank you for everything, Harper. Weston must have forgotten to take his meds. Don't take it to heart." "Of course, if you are willing to marry him, we would be more than happy to—" "Mom! Dad! What are you talking about?! Harper is the one begging to marry me! Why are you walking on eggshells around her?" "Let me tell you, Harper, if you don't want to marry me, there's a long line of women who do! If you weren't such a good little lapdog, do you think I would have ever given you a second look?" His words were as piercing as ever, but over the past three years, I seemed to have gotten used to them. From initial disbelief to calm acceptance, and now, to complete indifference. It took me three years to accept the fact that Weston had completely forgotten me and that his personality had drastically changed. Now, we had reached the end of the line. I gave Weston one last, deep look, grabbed my coat, and walked out. The sound of things crashing and shattering echoed behind me, but I didn't look back. Walking up to the car, I tried the door handle a few times, but it wouldn't open. The chauffeur walked up to me with a sour expression, shoved me hard, and sneered: "This is Mr. Montgomery's car, and I am Mr. Montgomery's driver. Do you really think you're someone important? Mr. Montgomery isn't going out, so why do you think you can sit in his car?" "Get lost. Don't be an eyesore." The bodyguards standing nearby all looked at me with mocking eyes; a few even failed to hold back their laughter. I stood quietly in place. Looking at these people—who had obeyed my every command back when Weston and I were doing well—I only felt a deep sense of irony. When you lose your status, people show their true colors. I didn't say another word, turned around, and walked out. 2 The Montgomery estate was in an exclusive villa district where you couldn't hail a cab. I had to walk all the way to the main road outside. A cold, drizzling rain had begun to fall. The streets were mostly deserted. Just as I reached the side of the road, a Porsche pulled up smoothly right in front of me. I tried to walk away to hail a ride, but the car seemed to have eyes, following my every step. I frowned, bent down, and tapped on the window. A familiar face appeared before my eyes. Stella Harrington curled her lips into a disdainful smirk, mocking me: "What's wrong? Got kicked out of the family dinner?" "Tsk, tsk, tsk. A doormat is a doormat. You'll never get a seat at the big table in this lifetime." I stared at her for a long moment before slowly curling my lips into a smile: "What do you think Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery would do if they found out that you were the one who tried to assault Weston years ago, which led to his mental breakdown?" Stella froze. She crushed her cigarette, stepped out of the car, grabbed me by the collar, and screamed: "How do you know about that?!" "No wonder... the last time he ordered you to bring us condoms at the hotel, you completely lost it and trashed the room to keep us apart. I thought you were just jealous, but you were actually protecting your master, huh?" "Go ahead, tell them! If you tell them, Weston might remember that night, and he'll go insane all over again. Then no one will dare marry him, and his parents will be begging me to marry him!" She was right. The only reason Stella could show her face so brazenly in front of Weston was that she knew the Montgomery family wouldn't dare expose the truth, even if they knew. Otherwise, Weston might be triggered into another psychotic break and attempt suicide again. A surge of pure rage shot from my chest to my limbs. I felt my blood freezing over. The woman in front of me hadn't said enough. She chuckled and spat on the ground near my feet: "You're just a coward!" "If you couldn't protect your own boyfriend back then, don't blame me!" "Now I want him again. I want to play with him, and what the hell can you do about it—" Smack! I threw all rationality to the wind and drove a vicious elbow into her, knocking her to the ground. Rage rushed to my head. I stepped forward, pinned her down, and raised my fist to strike again. In that split second, a piercing pain erupted from the back of my head. My entire body went numb, as if a pause button had been pressed. I turned my head blankly. Weston stood there, holding a blood-stained brick. His face was half-angry, his expression dark: "Are you crazy, Harper?! Who gave you the right to hit Stella?!" "Being jealous is one thing, but this is crossing the line!" I reached up and touched the back of my head. My hand came away covered in blood, and my vision instantly blurred. Stella scrambled up from the ground, hid behind Weston, and glared at me with a wicked smile: "Where did this rabid dog come from, biting people for no reason? I'll kill you!" Saying that, Stella raised her foot and viciously kicked me with her high heel. Caught off guard, the kick landed hard. The agonizing pain from my head and my thigh made me nearly black out. In the final second before my consciousness faded, I saw Stella nestled in Weston's arms, looking down at me with a provocative, triumphant glare, spitting on the ground one last time. 3 When I opened my eyes again, all I saw was a blinding expanse of white. There was no one by my side. I struggled to press the call button. When the nurse came in, Mrs. Montgomery was with her. Her eyes were red. She waited until the nurse finished checking my vitals and told her I needed a week of rest before profusely thanking her and seeing her out. The room was silent for a while before Mrs. Montgomery choked out a sob: "It's all my fault. I didn't keep a close enough eye on Wes. He ran out last night wanting to win you back, to marry you. Who could have known this would happen!" "I... I..." She wept so hard she could barely speak, turning me—the victim—into the one who had to comfort her. After a long time, Mrs. Montgomery finally stopped crying. She lowered her head and said softly: "Since things have come to this... even though his father and I desperately want you to stay by Wes's side, it's no use anymore. Whenever you want to leave, we'll make the arrangements for you." It felt like something was blocking my throat. After a moment, I managed to squeeze out a few words: "Okay." "Seven days from now. I'll go to Australia to study." Mrs. Montgomery nodded silently, sighed deeply, and left the room. I stared up at the pristine white ceiling, my mind flashing through the events of the past three days like a movie reel. How did Weston and I end up like this? 4 Three years ago, Weston and I had just reached the stage of meeting the parents. Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery didn't treat me with the warm enthusiasm they did now. Instead, they looked down on me—a girl from a rural town, completely mismatched for their prestigious family. Furthermore, I had no parents, only a terminally ill grandfather. Weston hated his family's elitism because of this and secretly planned to elope with me. But I stopped him, earnestly telling him: "Your parents are doing this for your own good. That's why they disagree." "Let's take a break for a while. Once I'm in a better place, I'll go to your house and convince them, okay?" But we didn't make it to that point before things took a drastic turn. My grandfather, dragging his dying, withered body, went to beg Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery. He even signed the papers to donate his body to the medical research hospital owned by the Montgomery family, serving as a rare cadaver for science. By the time I found out, my grandfather was already gone, his body sent to the dissection room. While I was having a breakdown over his death, another tragedy struck. Stella Harrington had recently returned from abroad. Coveting Weston, she drugged him and took him to a hotel, attempting to force herself on him. I busted into the room at the very last second and called the cops. Of course, calling the cops did nothing to the powerful Harrington family. But the trauma of the event triggered a severe psychological breakdown in Weston. He lost his ability to care for himself and forgot who everyone was. Later, with professional treatment, he physically recovered, but his personality had drastically changed. And... he forgot me. Thinking of the past brought a wave of inexplicable bitterness to my heart. If Weston and I had never met or fallen in love, none of this would have happened. My ever-smiling grandfather wouldn't have given his life just to secure my future. But overthinking was useless. Weston's parents suddenly became incredibly warm to me, asking me to care for Weston for three years and agreeing to our marriage. I originally thought my grandfather's death should have meaning—that I should fulfill his dying wish and find my happiness. But I didn't expect that these past three years would bring me no happiness at all. Now, the three-year deadline had arrived. Weston wanted to marry me, but I didn't want to marry him anymore. Now, I just wanted to go far away and live my own life. 5 In my dreams, I saw my grandfather's ashen face and heard Weston's crying. When I woke up from the nightmare, it was already the next day. Half my pillowcase was soaked—I didn't know if it was tears or sweat. I struggled to sit up and checked the time. Six days left until I departed. Weston still hadn't shown up, which put my mind at ease. It was better not to see him; I didn't want to argue with him anymore. But speak of the devil. As soon as the thought crossed my mind, a commotion erupted outside my door. Weston's voice came through clearly: "Are you people working for the Montgomery family? Can't you see who I am? I'm Weston Montgomery! Let me in!" It seemed his parents had stationed bodyguards at the door, afraid he would hurt me again. However, it was useless. The door was forcefully shoved open by Weston. He froze for a second when he saw my head wrapped in bandages, a flash of awkwardness crossing his face. He took two steps forward, handed me a thermos of chicken soup, and said coldly: "I personally cooked your favorite chicken soup. Drink it." I shook my head and smiled faintly: "No thanks." "I'm allergic to chicken." Weston stared at me in disbelief for a long moment, then let out a scoff and sat down nearby: "Allergic? Then how come you never said you were allergic every single time I made you cook chicken soup for me?" "You're still mad, aren't you? Fine, I shouldn't have hit you that hard. But you shouldn't have hit someone either. Do you know how embarrassing that was for me? Everyone in our circle knows you are my dog. When you go around hitting people and making a fool of yourself, isn't it my reputation on the line? How am I supposed to show my face in public?" I suddenly understood. To Weston, I was his dog, his follower, but not his girlfriend. The Weston who once deeply despised his family's status because he couldn't marry me now had "the Montgomery family" in every other sentence. He had changed completely. I was so foolish. I thought that by taking care of him meticulously for three years, he could go back to how he used to be. I forgot that maybe this version of him was his true self. Seeing my silence, Weston snorted coldly. Frowning, he took the soup out of the thermos and literally tried to force it into my mouth: "I made this. The least you could do is taste it!" "Drink it! Drink! I refuse to believe it'll actually kill you!" Despite my struggling, a few drops of the broth got into my mouth. Instantly, I felt an intense itching all over my body, and my cheeks started burning up. I swatted the soup away, spilling it all over the floor and splashing it on Weston's shoes. He looked up furiously, about to curse at me, but froze when he saw my face. He immediately screamed: "Nurse! Get in here! Someone is having an allergic reaction!" In his panicked pupils, I could see the reflection of my bandaged, swollen face, puffed up like a balloon. The bodyguards rushed in and pulled Weston out. Right before he was dragged away, he still stubbornly shouted: "How can the allergy be this severe?! You've cooked it for me a hundred times! You were never this delicate before!" "Suddenly acting so fragile—it's ridiculous! Are you trying to play the victim so I'll feel sorry for you? Disgusting!" I lay calmly on the bed, accepting the nurse's treatment. My blood felt frozen, but my heart was completely still. I was used to it. Weston always found a way to paint me as a manipulative schemer, throwing dirty water on me just to make himself feel better. I had made chicken soup for him many times. But every single time, I took heavy-duty allergy medication beforehand just so I could taste-test the seasoning. He loved chicken soup. When we were first together, he found out I was allergic and wouldn't even let me touch chicken. Once, a delivery place accidentally included chicken in my order, sending me to the hospital to get my stomach pumped. Weston blamed himself endlessly. After that, whenever we ordered takeout or ate at a restaurant, he would call ahead or march into the kitchen to interrogate the chef about exactly what kind of meat was in the dishes. Times had changed. People had changed. 6 After the injection, I fell into a deep sleep. I woke up at night. Weston was sitting by my bed, his eyes bloodshot. His face was full of heartache. For a split second, I thought he remembered me. My heart raced, and I called out shakily: "Wes?" But the next second, his expression shifted. He looked at me coldly and nodded: "Just like Stella said. Everything you did these past few days was just to make me feel sorry for you!" "A grown woman playing these pathetic games... It's disgusting. Even if you married into the Montgomery family, I'd feel like you stained our name!" After ranting, he looked at me out of the corner of his eye, waiting for an explanation. Over the past three years, whenever he yelled at me for anything big or small, I would anxiously explain myself, terrified he would have a bad impression of me when he recovered his memory. But now, I just glanced at him indifferently and said nothing. Weston clearly didn't expect me to have zero reaction. His face turned red with anger, and he pointed at me: "Harper! What is with your attitude lately?! Do you really think I can't live without you?" "I canceled several dates—I didn't even go to dinner with Stella—just to stay here with you, and you're giving me attitude?!" "Fine, I admit you got hurt badly this time, and you were wronged. Okay, we'll let it go. Once you're fully recovered, we'll discuss the wedding date. We'll get married. Consider it compensation. Happy now?" Hearing his "compromising" tone at the end, I couldn't help but laugh out loud. The more I thought about it, the funnier it got. I started laughing hysterically, laughing until I coughed. Weston's face turned deathly pale. He stared at me intently: "What are you laughing at?" I shook my head, coughing wildly for a moment before quieting down. I looked calmly at the man who was now a complete stranger and said faintly: "I'm laughing at your confidence. Did I ever say I was going to marry you?" "I told you at the family dinner the other day: I won't marry you. What's the point of using marriage as compensation now? You might as well just give me five hundred thousand dollars. The Montgomery family has plenty of money, don't they?" Weston was stunned. He stumbled back a few steps, nearly falling to the floor. He shook his head: "How did you become like this?" I didn't answer, just looking at him with a half-smile, intent on carving the word "gold-digger" into his brain. Even now, I couldn't bear to say cruel things to him. So let's just make sure neither of us has a good impression of the other. That way, when he eventually remembers me, he won't be too sad. After all, I'm just a gold-digger. Weston seemed to have suffered a huge shock. He stood frozen for a long time, then finally nodded: "Fine. You want money? No problem. I'll have finance wire it to your card tomorrow!" "For three years, I tried to give you money to get rid of you, but you refused. I actually thought you were a good woman. I didn't realize you just thought the price was too low. Now you're opening your mouth like a lion!" "Disgusting!" With that, he turned and left, slamming the door violently behind him. After he left, I heard his suppressed sobs through the door. I gripped the blanket tightly, then released it, turning my face toward the window. A crescent moon hung in the sky outside. It was the third day. Five more days, and I would be gone. Some ties should have been cut long ago.
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