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Chapter 4

For the past several days, Therese had barely found a moment to herself.

The celebration of the Feast of St. Sebastian had filled Encarnacion with activity. The church had been crowded almost every day, its

doors opening early and closing late as parishioners came for the week-long celebration of Mass and thanksgiving.

There had been visiting bishops, priests from neighboring parishes, and countless devotees who came to attend the liturgies and offer

their prayers. Therese had spent most of her days helping wherever she was needed—assisting with preparations, welcoming visitors,

organizing church activities, and making sure the elderly residents from Safe Haven who attended the celebrations were properly

cared for.

By the time evening came, exhaustion usually won over curiosity.

Until tonight.

The convent had finally grown quiet.

Therese sat alone at her desk.

Her eyes fell upon her laptop.

And with that silence came the thought she had been trying not to entertain.

Vermont.

She hesitated before opening the browser.

It had been years.

She had no reason to search for him.

At least, that was what she kept telling herself.

Still, her fingers moved across the keyboard.

She typed:

Vermont Octavian Engineering

Therese clicked the website which she believed the official website of the company.

The screen filled with images of high-tech structures, massive ammunition projects, and modern engineering developments.

She slowly scrolled down.

Then she saw his photograph.

Vermont.

Not the Vermont she remembered.

This man wore a dark suit, his expression composed and unreadable. His face had matured, his features sharper than she

remembered, and there was something distant in his eyes.

Yet she knew him.

She would have known those eyes anywhere.

Her fingers stopped moving.

"Vermont Octavian..."

She whispered the name.

The words felt strange.

She had known him as Vermont Caustello.

So why was he now Vermont Octavian?

Therese continued scrolling through the website.

Her eyes kept returning to his name.

Vermont Octavian.

She frowned slightly.

Maybe he changed his surname.

The thought came quietly.

Therese opened another result, this time a brief personal profile tucked beneath an article about prominent business figures.

She expected to find little more than his age and position. An information made her stop breathing for a moment.

Her eyes moved slowly down the page.

Personal Information

Full Name: Vermont Octavian Age: 38 Occupation: Businessman, Engineer, and CEO of Octavian Engineering

Therese continued scrolling.

Then she reached the section that made her pause.

Marital History

First Wife: Vivien Davis Marriage: 2010–2011

Second Wife: Hailee Gonzalez Marriage: 2014–2015

Third Wife: Shannon De Armaz Marriage: 2019–2020

Therese stared at the screen.

Her eyes moved back to the names.

Vivien Davis.

Hailee Gonzalez.

Shannon De Armaz.

Three wives.

Three marriages.

And none of them had lasted a year.

She slowly sat back in her chair, unable to hide the shock on her face.

"Three wives..."

The words came out in a whisper.

Her gaze remained fixed on the screen.

She had expected to discover what happened to Vermont after all those years.

She hadn't expected to discover this.

Therese remained still, her eyes fixed on the screen.

Something stirred inside her.

It wasn't anger.

It wasn't sadness.

And it certainly wasn't jealousy.

At least, she didn't want to call it that.

There was simply a strange, uncomfortable feeling pressing quietly against her chest—something she couldn't name, no matter how

hard she tried.

To her curiosity, she browsed every wife he had.

She returned to the search results and began looking up each of Vermont's former wives, one after another.

She read whatever brief information she could find about them—their photographs, their professions, and the few public details

available about their marriages to Vermont.

Therese found herself paying closer attention than she intended.

She didn't know why.

Perhaps she was simply trying to understand the man Vermont had become.

She opened another photograph of one of them.

Then another.

Her expression remained composed, but her curiosity only deepened.

So these were the women who became part of your life.

She stared at the screen.

Therese continued scrolling, her curiosity pulling her deeper into the lives of the women Vermont had once married.

The first profile she opened was Vivien Davis.

She learned that Vivien was a successful businesswoman and the owner of a large online shopping company. According to the

profile, her business had expanded across several Asian countries, including Japan and China, making her one of the young

entrepreneurs gaining attention in the region.

Therese stared at the information for a moment.

So she was a businesswoman.

She moved on to the second wife.

Hailee Gonzalez.

Unlike Vivien, Hailee had not built her reputation entirely on her own career. She was described as the daughter of a prominent

business tycoon whose family owned several major companies.

Therese's eyebrows lifted slightly.

Another wealthy family.

Then she opened the profile of Vermont's third and most recent wife.

Shannon De Armaz.

Her photograph appeared on the screen.

Shannon was a professional model, known for her appearances in fashion campaigns and magazine features.

Therese studied the three profiles in silence.

A businesswoman.

A business tycoon's daughter.

A model.

Three very different women.

Yet somehow, all three had one thing in common.

They had once been Vermont Octavian's wives.

Therese slowly leaned back in her chair.

She couldn't explain why she was comparing them.

Her eyes returned to Shannon's photograph.

Then to Vivien's.

Then Hailee's.

Something unfamiliar stirred inside her again.

Therese stared at the three profiles for a long moment, still trying to reconcile them with the Vermont she had known.

A faint, disbelieving shake of her head escaped her.

"I can't believe how you've turned out, Vermont."

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

She looked again at the list of his marriages.

Three wives.

Three short marriages.

Her expression tightened.

She couldn't help but think of the values they had once been taught—the kind of principles she had believed Vermont understood as

deeply as she did.

Yet the man she had found on the internet seemed to have walked far from those principles.

"You must have lost your way," she murmured.

Her eyes lingered on his photograph.

"How could you have forgotten that a man should have only one wife in his lifetime?"

She paused.

There was disappointment in her voice, but beneath it was something she could not quite identify.

Perhaps it was the realization that the Vermont she remembered had become someone she no longer understood.

She slowly closed the laptop.

Therese stared into the darkness, her eyes fixed on nothing in particular as a troubling question lingered in her mind.

What kind of man had Vermont become?

She slowly closed her eyes, trying to erase her thoughts.

But instead, her mind carried her back to the past.

Back to the first time she had met Vermont.

Therese was only in sixth grade when she first met Vermont.

Their school had only one campus, where the middle school and high school students shared the same grounds. To Therese, the older

students seemed like entirely different people—more confident, louder, and somehow more intimidating.

Especially Vermont.

At that time, Vermont was already a varsity basketball player in high school.

Fiona, Therese's best friend, was absolutely obsessed with him.

"Therese, come on!" Fiona whispered excitedly, tugging at her friend's arm.

"Where are we going?"

"To the covered court."

"We're supposed to be in class."

Fiona rolled her eyes. "Just for a few minutes."

"You said that yesterday."

"And the day before."

Therese sighed. "Fiona..."

"Please! Vermont is practicing today."

Therese gave her a confused look. "Why are you so interested in watching him?"

"Because he's Vermont!"

"That's not an answer."

"He's the best player on the team. And he's handsome."

Therese shook her head. "You're ridiculous."

"You're just jealous."

"Of what?"

"That he doesn't know you exist."

Therese laughed softly. "I don't care if he knows I exist."

"Then come with me."

And somehow, Fiona always managed to drag her along.

That afternoon, the two girls sat quietly on one of the benches at the side of the covered court, watching the high school varsity team

practice.

The rhythmic pounding of basketballs echoed beneath the dome.

Fiona leaned forward, her eyes following Vermont's every move.

"There! That's him!"

Therese glanced toward the court.

Vermont was tall for his age, athletic, and completely focused on the game. He dribbled past one player before passing the ball to his

teammate.

"Did you see that?" Fiona whispered.

"Yes."

"He's amazing."

"You're watching him instead of the ball."

"I am watching the ball."

Therese raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, fine," Fiona admitted. "I'm watching him."

Therese smiled and shook her head.

On the court, Vermont received the ball again.

"Pass!" one of his teammates shouted.

Vermont turned and threw the ball toward him.

But the pass went wide.

The basketball flew beyond the court.

Straight toward the bench.

"Look out!" someone yelled.

Therese barely had time to turn.

THUD!

The basketball struck her hard on the head.

Her eyeglasses flew from her face and shattered against the floor.

"Therese!"

Fiona jumped to her feet.

Therese's body went limp.

"Therese! Wake up!"

The entire court suddenly fell silent.

Vermont froze.

"What happened?" he asked, rushing toward them.

"She got hit!" Fiona cried. "The ball hit her head!"

Vermont immediately dropped to his knees beside Therese.

"Hey... hey, can you hear me?"

There was no response.

He carefully looked at the broken eyeglasses scattered across the floor.

"Someone get the teacher!" he shouted.

A teammate immediately ran toward the school building.

Fiona knelt beside Therese, trembling.

"Therese, please wake up."

Vermont looked at her unconscious face.

"What's her name?"

"Therese," Fiona answered anxiously. "Therese Marshal."

Vermont repeated the name quietly.

"Therese..."

He looked at the broken glasses again.

"She needs to go to the clinic."

When Therese finally stirred, the first thing she heard was a boy's voice.

"Hey. Don't move yet."

She slowly opened her eyes.

Everything was blurry.

"Where... am I?"

"You're at the clinic."

She blinked, trying to see the person beside her.

"Who are you?"

A nervous smile appeared on the boy's face.

"I'm Vermont."

Therese stared at him through her blurred vision.

"Vermont...?"

"Yeah."

She frowned.

"You're the one who hit me with the ball."

Vermont's expression immediately fell.

"I know."

He lowered his head.

"I'm sorry."

Therese remained silent for a moment.

Then she quietly asked,

"Did you break my glasses?"

Vermont glanced at Fiona, then back at Therese.

"...Yes."

Therese sighed.

Vermont swallowed.

"I'll replace them."

"With what?"

"New glasses."

Therese tilted her head.

"You promise?"

Vermont nodded.

"I promise."

The next day...

It was in the middle of their science class when Fiona suddenly leaned toward her.

"Therese."

Therese continued writing in her notebook.

"What?"

Fiona subtly pointed toward the classroom door.

"Look."

Therese glanced up.

Vermont was standing outside their classroom with his friend, George. He was waiting for the bell to ring, his hands casually tucked

into his pockets.

Therese frowned.

"What is he doing here?"

Fiona's lips curled into a mischievous smile.

"Maybe he's here for you."

"Don't start."

Before Fiona could tease her any further, the bell rang.

Vermont and George entered the classroom.

Vermont walked directly toward Therese's desk.

"Therese?"

She looked up at him.

"Yes?"

He hesitated for a moment.

"Yesterday, you told me I had to replace your eyeglasses."

Therese remembered.

She had told him plainly that he had to replace them after his careless pass sent the basketball straight into her head and shattered her

glasses.

"I did."

"I forgot to ask you what kind of eyeglasses you were wearing."

Therese looked at him curiously.

"Why?"

"So I can get you the right one."

"You don't have to get the exact same kind."

"I know."

He paused.

"But I need to know what suits your eyes."

Therese wasn't sure what to say.

Vermont glanced toward her.

"Can you come with me during lunch break? I'll take you to an optical shop."

Therese hesitated.

"I don't know."

Fiona immediately intervened.

"She'll go."

Therese turned toward her.

"Fiona!"

"I'll go with you," Fiona added quickly. "You won't be alone."

Vermont nodded.

"Okay. I'll meet you at the school gate during lunch."

Then he walked back toward George.

Fiona waited until he was out of earshot before grabbing Therese's arm.

"Oh my gosh!"

"What?"

"Vermont is taking you to buy glasses!"

"Because he broke them."

"But still!"

Therese rolled her eyes.

"You're impossible."

When lunch break finally came, Therese and Fiona waited near the school gate.

Fiona kept looking down the road.

"Where is he?"

"You're the one who wanted to come," Therese reminded her.

"I know. I'm just looking."

A few moments later, a car approached the school gate.

Fiona's eyes widened.

"Therese."

"What?"

"Look at that car."

The vehicle stopped in front of them.

Fiona giggled.

"He has a nice car."

Therese gave her an irritated look.

"Can we please just go?"

Vermont lowered the window.

"Therese. Fiona."

They approached the car and climbed inside.

Fiona sat beside Therese in the back while Vermont started the engine.

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Then Vermont glanced at Therese through the rearview mirror.

"I'm sorry again about what happened yesterday."

Therese shook her head.

"It doesn't matter."

Vermont looked at her.

"It doesn't?"

"As long as you replace my eyeglasses."

A faint smile appeared on his face.

"I will."

Therese adjusted herself in her seat.

"My vision gets blurry sometimes without them."

"Then we'll make sure you get the right ones."

He drove for a few moments before speaking again.

"Can I ask you something?"

Therese looked at him.

"What?"

"What's your name?"

She blinked.

"You already know my name."

"I know Therese. I mean your full name."

"Therese Marshal."

Vermont repeated it quietly.

"Therese Marshal."

Then his expression changed slightly.

"Wait. Are you related to Mr. Caleb Marshal?"

Therese nodded.

"He's my father."

Vermont looked surprised.

"Your father is our Mathematics teacher?"

"Yes."

Fiona leaned forward.

"That's why she knows all his scary math problems."

Therese gave her a look.

"Fiona."

Fiona laughed.

Vermont smiled.

"I didn't know that."

He glanced at Therese again.

"How old are you?"

"Twelve."

"Where do you live?"

"Why are you asking so many questions?"

He shrugged.

"I'm just getting to know the person whose glasses I broke."

Fiona immediately giggled.

Therese rolled her eyes.

"You're both annoying."

Soon, they arrived at the optical clinic.

Therese went through an eye examination while Fiona and Vermont waited outside.

The optometrist carefully checked her vision and helped her choose an appropriate pair of glasses.

When Therese finally put them on, everything became clear again.

She looked around the room, amazed at how sharp everything suddenly appeared.

Fiona smiled.

"Can you see clearly now?"

Therese nodded.

"Yes."

Vermont stood nearby.

"Better?"

Therese looked at him.

"Much better."

Vermont smiled.

"Good."

Therese touched the new glasses gently.

She had not expected much from that day.