Seven Years of Love, All for Nothing

Chapter 2

It felt like my heart was being crushed, as if someone had wrapped it in a vice and was squeezing until I couldn't breathe. A lump lodged itself in my throat, one I couldn't shake no matter how hard I tried.

Oh, Andrew. You never deserved my love.

You never truly believed in me, and you let the lies of the one person you should've trusted least turn you against me.

Olivia shot me a smug look, then tugged on Andrew's sleeve with a pitiful expression.

"I know sis resents me for taking some of dad's love. It makes sense she'd be angry at me... but I don't care what anyone thinks, as long as you understand me, Andrew."

She flashed him a sweet, forced smile.

Andrew's expression softened immediately. He tapped Olivia's nose affectionately, helped her up, then turned to me with a look of disappointment in his eyes.

"You've lost loved ones too, Rachel. Don't you get how important a dying person's last wish is?"

It felt like ice had poured into my veins. I wanted to scream, but instead, I just laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and empty.

How could Andrew bring up losing loved ones so casually?

His mother and mine were best friends.

When the He family hit rock bottom, my mom was the one who threw everything she had—money, connections, every favor she could call in—to keep He Corporation from crashing and burning.

She worked day and night, fighting for their company and caring for Andrew, who was sickly and frail.

Back then, Andrew was barely able to stand, and whenever she had time, my mom took him out to exercise, making him countless bowls of medicinal soup, nursing him back to health.

If he hadn't always said he wanted to marry me when he grew up, he would've begged my mom to become her godson.

When we found out my mom had died alone in a foreign country, Andrew's grief was so raw and intense, it felt like he was mourning her like his own mother.

But now, less than ten years later, he was dismissing it all as "ancient history between our parents"?

I could feel the rage building, threatening to boil over. The urge to scream, to slap him, to do anything—everything—was so strong, I almost couldn't control it.

But as the anger subsided, I took a deep breath and said, my voice steady but cold,

"Do whatever you want. We're done. For good."

For a moment, Andrew's face went pale, then he forced a grin, the same patronizing smile I'd seen too many times before.

"You're just upset. Once I help Olivia through her last days, I'll come back to you. You'll see."

With that, he turned and led Olivia away, ignoring our friends who were trying to stop him.

I stood there, frozen, watching them walk away. And suddenly, I was back at my 18th birthday, remembering Andrew's confession like it was yesterday.

Red-faced, he'd handed me a huge bouquet of roses, stumbling over his words as he tried to sound romantic:

"Roses might be cliché, but my love isn't."

"Rachel, I'll marry no one but you."

I'd never questioned him. I thought we were meant to be together forever.

Even when his affection for Olivia grew and mine seemed to shrink, I was too naïve to see it.

When I got home and changed out of my wedding dress, my assistant's investigation results were waiting for me.

"Miss Wilson, Olivia does have a recent medical record, but it's for food poisoning, not a terminal illness."

"And the marriage certificate for Olivia and Mr. He was filed two weeks ago."

A cold laugh escaped me.

Two weeks ago—right when I'd been putting everything I had into preparing for my proposal to Andrew.

No wonder Olivia had a marriage certificate ready. She'd been planning this sabotage all along.

My mom's final words to me were:

"Don't let past grudges hold you back. Andrew is a good boy. Build a beautiful future with him."

But mom, we were both wrong about him in the end.

I wanted to honor your dying wish, I really did.

But I can't build a future with Andrew. And I'll never make peace with Olivia.