She Faked Her Death While Pregnant—Now He's Begging Her to Come Back

After the fire that destroyed the Flores family, I fell from a spoiled rich girl to a kitchen runner in a hotel's back kitchen. Meanwhile, my ex-boyfriend rose from a servant's son to the heir of the richest family in the city. His mother died because of me. He hated me with a vengeance. Every chance he got, he found a new way to humiliate and torment me. What he never knew was that even before the fire, I was already carrying his child. Now he was happily preparing to get engaged to his new girlfriend. My heart had long gone numb. All I wanted was to give birth safely and somehow make it through the rest of my life. What I never expected was that he would secretly lock me up in his house and treat me like some twisted toy. His fingers brushed across my cheek. "Jocelyn, even if you die, the only place you're allowed to die is by my side." In the end, he got exactly what he wanted. Kidnappers dragged me and his fiancée to the seaside and tied us up. The whip lashed across my body again and again. Covered in blood, I begged him to save me. But Wyatt Clark simply pointed at his perfectly unharmed fiancée. "Let her go. Whatever you want, name your price." My heart finally turned completely cold. In a desperate attempt to survive, I jumped off the cliff and plunged into the ocean below. Wyatt, who had always been cold and indifferent, suddenly had red-rimmed eyes. Then he dove in after me. Four years later, I was raising the child I had nearly died bringing into this world and finally had a new life. Then Wyatt showed up again—and dropped to his knees, begging me to forgive him. At Cloudveil Hotel in River City, everyone was running around like crazy. "Jocelyn! Get those utensils into the banquet hall. Move it!" "Jocelyn! Put the fruit trays on the tables first. And stop being so clumsy!" Orders flew at me from every direction. My head spun. But I didn't dare slow down. If I made even the slightest mistake, I'd be fired on the spot. Working odd jobs in this hotel kitchen was already the most decent job I could get. The temperature in the kitchen was pushing 118 degrees, yet I still had to wear long sleeves, long pants, and a mask pulled tight over my face. The heat and sweat made my skin sting and itch unbearably, but I didn't dare take it off. Because my face and body were covered in large, ugly burn scars. I was afraid of scaring people. When things finally slowed a little, I grabbed a moment to drink some water. I asked the supervisor, "Who's the VIP today? Why is everyone so worked up?" Even the manager, who usually sat in his office enjoying the AC, was standing in the banquet hall personally directing people, afraid something might go wrong. The supervisor looked at me like I was an i***t. "Are you blind? Didn't you see the sign outside? It's the engagement party for the eldest son of the Clark family—Wyatt Clark." My pupils shrank instantly. Wyatt… was getting engaged? To Sherry? I usually entered through the back door where there were fewer people, so I had never seen the sign at the main entrance. I had no idea Wyatt was actually getting engaged to Sherry. I dug my nails into my fingertips. A wave of bitterness rose in my chest, but I forced it down. This was how it should be. Wyatt and Sherry were perfect together—a handsome, talented man and a beautiful woman. The kind of couple everyone envied. What right did I have to feel upset? If he didn't marry Sherry, was he supposed to marry me? Yeah, right. He had said it himself. He would never forgive anyone from the Flores family for the rest of his life. My father was already dead. Now I was the only one left of the Flores family. If anything, Wyatt probably wished I were dead too. I lowered my eyes. Memories of when Wyatt and I were madly in love flashed through my mind. Back then, the Flores family hadn't fallen yet. I was still the arrogant rich girl who thought the world revolved around her. And Wyatt was just the son of a servant in our household. We secretly dated behind everyone's backs, sneaking off to the little garden to whisper sweet nonsense to each other— Doing all the reckless, ridiculous things young lovers do. Then, two months later, that fire destroyed everything. Wyatt's mother died in the flames. He himself had barely made it out alive. And the one who started the fire… was my father. I knew Wyatt hated me to the core. Wyatt. My Wyatt… "Mr. Clark is here!" The supervisor's excited shout snapped me back to reality. My heart lurched as I looked up. Right in front of the hotel entrance, a black Porsche Panamera slowly came to a stop. The door opened, and Wyatt stepped out holding an umbrella. He had grown taller—and more mature. His sharp features and tall, lean frame made him look effortlessly noble. His slightly upturned eyes carried a lazy indifference that made him seem distant and untouchable. Everything about Wyatt spoke of wealth and power. He was no longer the poor servant's son from the Flores household. He was now the eldest son of the Clark family—the wealthiest family in River City. He walked around to the other side of the car and opened the door. Then he reached out, taking a slender, delicate hand and helping his princess out of the car. Wyatt tilted the umbrella toward Sherry Miller, carefully shielding her from the sun. Sherry smiled brightly and stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. Wyatt's lips curved into a gentle smile. The cold indifference in his eyes vanished in that instant. He must really love Sherry. My nose stung. I bit down hard on my lip, standing there like some pathetic outsider secretly watching their happiness. There was a time when Wyatt looked at me with that same gentle, indulgent gaze. But now I knew one thing for sure— He didn't love me anymore. All that remained was endless hatred.