08
Three months later, my bridal boutique opened, and thanks to my unique design style, it quickly gained popularity.
Around this time, Zara Zoey, a famous model, was preparing for the red carpet at her first film awards ceremony and sent her assistant to borrow a dress.
I remember Zara Zoey well. In my previous life, on the day I got married, Hanson left me to spend the night with Zara.
The two of them were frequently photographed by gossip reporters entering hotels or Hanson’s suburban villa together. With Hanson’s help, Zara successfully broke into the entertainment industry and starred in several leading roles in films and TV series.
Whenever reporters asked about her relationship with Hanson, Zara would give a mysterious smile and remain silent.
No answer was the best answer. The next day, headlines read, “Supermodel Zara Zoey to Be Officially Recognized as Hanson Gabe’s Partner.”
I went crazy and stormed into the Gabe Corporation to confront Hanson, only to find my husband passionately kissing Zara in his top–floor office.
Hanson didn’t even bother to see me, instead arranging for a lawyer to deliver a divorce agreement, stating that I had to leave the marriage with nothing.
I returned home, smashing everything in sight until shards of broken glass embedded in my hand and blood flowed.
It was then that Zara visited me. She handed me a pregnancy report showing that she was three months pregnant.
She told me that Hanson was a man who hated being controlled, and he despised me because I clùng to him.
She said she didn’t love Hanson, but she needed him to further her
Matri
career.
She claimed that because of my shameless pursuit of Hanson, my parents‘ breakfast shop had been shut down under the pretense of failing health inspections. And here I was, self–destructing in this house like a madwoman.
She said she looked down on me. And honestly, I looked down on myself too.
After Zara left, I stared at the blood pooling in my palm and at the pregnancy report she had left behind. Already tormented by depression, I finally chose to end my life.
“Nancy, Nancy!” Lucy called out, pulling me from my thoughts.
“They want to borrow the dress. Should we let them? This could be great exposure for our brand.”
To avoid unnecessary trouble if Hanson finds out I’m behind this brand, I had Lucy take on the role of the boutique’s owner.
“Sure, let them borrow it. Why not, if it helps us make money?”
“Oh, by the way, which dress did they choose?”
“The first wedding dress you designed, the one called ‘Self–Love.“”
I suddenly stood up from the sofa. This wedding dress–it’s the one I wore in my previous life when I married Hanson. At that time, I was full of hope for our married life.
Filled with love for Hanson, I designed that dress and called it ‘To Love.’
“Never mind, let them borrow it.”
Ap
After saying this, I lay back on the sofa. After all, in this life, nothing is more important than making money.
