Drowning in Memories

On the night of Clara Sharp's twentieth birthday, Matthew Coleman—her childhood fiancé, the boy she had loved since early childhood—coaxed her into drinking a glass of spiked wine with a feigned tender smile. Clara dropped her guard, foolishly believing it was nothing more than another one of his sick, twisted games. Matthew had always nursed a twisted, perverted obsession with watching her break apart under raging lust, brought low to kneel at his feet and beg for his touch. But that night, all her illusions shattered in an instant. Before she could register the dizziness coursing through her veins, he shoved her ruthlessly into the arms of his sworn arch-nemesis, Adrian Gilbert—a depraved playboy whose wild excesses had left him riddled with syphilis, clinging to his last days. In cold, sharp Aeran—a language he had always thought she could never understand—Matthew spoke, his voice stripped of all mercy. "You want to know who my true love is? It's Ivy. So leave her out of this. Whatever Ivy's done, Clara will atone for it. She's a virgin." Ivy was adopted by Matthew's grandparents, making her his legal aunt. Everyone in their social circle knew full well that Ivy was a manipulative seductress; yet Matthew turned a blind eye, clinging stubbornly to the lie that his precious aunt was pure, fragile, and untouched by sin. A month earlier, Ivy had crossed Adrian, and now Matthew was more than ready to sacrifice Clara and crush her dignity into dust. "A virgin?" Adrian reeked of strong liquor and rot. A low, lecherous whistle slipped from his lips as his greedy eyes crawled over Clara's curvy, defenseless figure. He took off his coat slowly and draped it loosely over her shoulders—a gesture far from gentle. Clara's mind went completely blank, yet every word Matthew had spoken burned into her brain, sickeningly clear and impossible to ignore. He never knew she had spent months secretly mastering Aeran, planning to reveal it as a sweet surprise for him—only for that secret to turn into the blade that sliced away her last flicker of hope. Burning heat twisted through every inch of her body. She struggled to fight back, to push him away, but the drug surging through her blood left her weak and limp. She could only curl helplessly in Adrian's cold arms. She squeezed her eyes shut, scalding tears streaming silently down her ashen, pale cheeks. Ninety-nine times before, Matthew had chosen Ivy over her. But this time, her heart was shattered beyond all repair. "Mmm." Right in front of Matthew's eyes, Adrian leaned down slowly, his lips catching each falling tear on her cheeks. "Tastes bitter," he murmured in a low, taunting drawl. "What could you ever see in a man like Matthew? When a man truly loves a woman, he will never hand her over. Never." He was right. What had she ever loved about Matthew? She closed her eyes, and memories crashed over her—all the way back to their childhood. She had seen him standing alone by the road: a ragged, lonely little boy in tattered clothes, his eyes blazing with stubborn defiance as he stared straight at her. In that instant, she had resolved to take him home, to love him, to protect him. But she had never foreseen the cruel vengeance of his spiteful stepmother. When a car came hurtling toward them out of nowhere, she had acted on pure instinct, shoving him behind her and shielding him with her own body. He escaped without a single scratch. She lost her leg. Her leg was crushed beyond saving, her bones shattered into fragments. Even after endless surgeries and agonizing rehab, she would walk with a permanent limp for the rest of her days. Matthew broke down crying for the very first time the day he saw her crippled leg. He dropped to his knees and swore to stay by her side forever, vowing never to abandon the Sharp family. Yet the second he stepped back into the Coleman household, he fell madly in love with Ivy—his nominal aunt. Overnight, her life-saving sacrifice, her lifelong disability, the Sharp family's endless kindness to him… all of it turned into a sick, degrading joke. Clara couldn't take it anymore. Her limp, helpless body was gently ushered into a lavish limousine by Adrian. The car shook violently, its ruthless movements leaving nothing to the imagination. Outside, Matthew sat motionless with his eyes squeezed shut, reciting Bible verses in a calm, unwavering tone. A devout Christian, Matthew had never recited the Scriptures so fluently, so flawlessly as he did that night. The car finally fell silent at the break of dawn, as the first ray of sunlight peeked over the horizon. Clara stumbled out of the limousine, her legs buckling beneath her—only to be caught gently by Adrian, who was leaning against the car, smoking a cigarette. He tugged her loosely, a lazy, mocking smirk playing on his lips. "Can we do this another time?" Clara didn't utter a single word. Her body swayed violently once, then she collapsed and blacked out. Matthew caught her limp frame, his face cold and impassive, his eyes devoid of all warmth or remorse. As darkness swallowed her whole, she faintly heard his assistant, Liam Marsh's anxious voice murmuring beside him, "Mr. Coleman, if Mr. Sharp finds out what happened to Ms. Sharp, our entire plan will go up in flames. What if he directs his anger at Ms. Coleman?" Matthew pulled Clara into a seemingly tender embrace, patting her back absently. But the words that left his lips were laced with frost—cruel enough to curdle blood. "No. Clara loves me. She'll cover for me in front of her grandfather. She knows how to stay quiet about this."