Sienna’s POV
10
“Moreover, I slept with her for five years. Doesn’t that bother you?” Lance sneered. “In a city full of socialites and
daughters of prestigious families, you ignored them all just to take my woman and prove your status.”
No wonder his grandfather, Sigmund Madron, chose to hand over the family’s reins to Howard instead of Lance.
It was clear Lance had inherited his father’s infamous recklessness–strong limbs but an empty head.
I couldn’t help but question how I ever fell for such a useless man.
But then I remembered how. After my parents‘ sudden death, he held me in his arms and promised, “Sienna, as long as I’m alive, you’ll always have a home.”
That simple, fleeting promise planted a seed in my heart and my confused feelings solidified at that moment.
For years, those endless nights of passion had me convinced we’d spend our lives together.
Howard, however, ignored Lance’s taunts entirely. He gently ushered me into the car.
“Don’t open the door. Wait for me,” he instructed.
“Where are you going?” I asked, a little alarmed.
“To teach an unruly kid some manners.”
C
He loosened his tie, rolled up his sleeves, and strode toward Lance with the calm of someone out for a leisurely
stroll. Without a word, he landed a punch squarely on Lance’s face.
But Lance wasn’t one to back down and quickly retaliated, so the two of them brawled right there in front of the
house.
Lance had some training in kickboxing and didn’t pull his punches. Worried about Howard, I opened the car door and hurried to stop them.
But just as I stepped out, the fight ended.
Lance lay on the ground, battered and defeated.
I rushed over, but instead of standing, Lance curled into himself and whimpered, “Sienna, it hurts so much. That bastard went all out. Could you please check if I’ve broken something-”
Ignoring him, I took Howard’s hand and gently massaged his reddened knuckles. “Why bother dirtying your
hands for someone like him?”
Lance’s pitiful groans caught in his throat. The light in his eyes shattered into pieces as he looked at me.
“Sienna, I’m in pain…” he muttered, his voice barely audible.
Once, a single frown from him could shatter my resolve. Now, even with his face beaten and bruised, I felt
nothing.
Howard and I left together, leaving Lance behind.
He chased after the car, shouting, “Sienna! Don’t go!”
“Feeling sorry for him?” Howard asked, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned
white.
“How could I?” I replied softly. “I just feel it’s a shame.”
A shadow of sadness crossed Howard’s face.
I placed my hand over his and whispered, “A shame I didn’t meet you sooner.”
After hearing that, his lips finally curved into a smile. Raising my hand, he kissed it gently. “Then it’s my fault for not finding you earlier.”
Love, they say, always came with a sense of guilt, and Howard blamed himself for allowing Lance to bully me
under his watch.
But to lift my spirits, he took me to try on wedding dresses.
The shop owner greeted us warmly. “Mr. Sharp! Is this your fiancée? You two look perfect together!”
The dress fit like a dream, as though it had been made just for me.
The owner zipped up the back and, with a look of admiration, said, “Miss Wheeler, you probably don’t know, but this wedding dress was designed by Mr. Sharp himself.”
I froze in surprise.
When I stepped out of the fitting room, Howard’s eyes lit up as he looked at me.
“Sienna, you’re even more beautiful in that dress than I imagined,” he said, his voice filled with awe. “I can’t wait to see you walking down the aisle wearing it.”
I walked toward him slowly, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him lightly on the lips.
He cupped the back of my head and deepened the kiss, his love and passion unmistakable.
Just then, a familiar voice interrupted us.
“Excuse me, I’m here to pick up my wedding dress,” the woman said.
