I Left Him, I Streamed, He Interfered

In the fourth year with Harrison, he was going to get married. I obediently pulled out my suitcase and moved out that same night. Because I knew the eldest daughter-in-law of the Harrisons of Skyview Heights was not a role a small-time influencer like me could fill. Later, for money, I started doing sensual dance streams. Mid-stream, Harrison stormed in and smashed my phone. He said, "Sarah, you're asking for death!" I looked at the ring on his finger and laughed. "Harrison, who are you to me? What right do you have to control me?" ***** When Harrison walked in, I was editing a video. He came over, closed my laptop, and suddenly pulled me into his arms. I could tell he was upset—a gut feeling I'd developed over the years with him. I wrapped my arms around his waist and asked carefully, "What's wrong?" He hesitated, then told me truthfully, "Sarah, I'm getting married." I had always been mentally prepared for Harrison to eventually marry someone else. In the Skyview Circle, even among the powerful, he was the one everyone gravitated toward. His friend Julian once said that the Harrisons were like a noble estate from ancient times—even a princess could marry into it. It was a prominence that money couldn't buy. Every marriage among his circle was a calculated family decision. How could he be any different? Those people played hard when they partied, but when it came to serious matters, they were all shrewd. So I knew that, given Harrison's position, he'd be even more so. After graduation, I worked as a flight attendant for Jade Wing Airlines. On the Skyview Heights route, I often saw Harrison. But back then, the name on his boarding pass wasn't that. In the circle of privileged heirs like him, women like me were a dime a dozen. But later, he let me move into the wedding house his grandfather had left him, and I stayed by his side for four whole years. Everyone around us said he'd settled down, that he seemed serious about me. But only I knew that deep down, Harrison was a man with a strong sense of social standing. He was always clear-headed about this relationship. Even if I felt that maybe he was different with me, or even that he actually liked me a little. It was never enough to make him give up anything for me. That night, Harrison was relentless in his persistence. Like the storm outside the window. In the heat of the moment, he would childishly ask me, "Sarah, can you not go?" I traced his handsome brows and pretended not to understand. "What does 'not go' mean?" Is it staying, and you don't marry her? Or staying, and being your mistress? Harrison was smart; he never took my bait. He didn't respond, letting that unspoken plea hang in the air as if it had never been uttered.