Author’s Note:
Please read the warnings carefully before proceeding—welcome aboard! ♡♡
Late autumn in Newbridge was finally shedding its lingering warmth, and sweet osmanthus filled the streets with fragrance.
A black Maybach was parked outside the grand Foster Manor. The chauffeur, dressed in white gloves, stepped out with quiet precision, circled to the back, and opened the car door.
Out stepped a pair of slender, elegant legs, followed by a lovely young woman in a white cotton sundress and a cozy yellow beret perched on her head.
Her skin was soft and luminous, lashes long and fluttering, eyes sparkling with a watery brightness, vivacity bubbling within them.
She was so beautiful, it was almost impossible to look away.
Cecilia Ye had always loved autumn. After all, it was the season when Xavier Foster saved her from the hands of the devil.
Ever since her tenth time being brought to the Fu family by Xavier Foster, he had publicly announced their engagement, and she'd lived here for over a year.
She murmured her thanks to the driver and looked up, spotting the black SUV parked off to the side.
A bright spark leapt into her eyes, her gorgeous face blooming with a smile as she bounded toward the cobbled path.
Xavier Foster was back. She hadn’t seen him in half a month.
Today was her birthday—thank goodness he remembered.
Brushing past the blooming hibiscus in the courtyard, Cecilia Ye dashed straight into the house.
The first thing she saw was him: sitting on the sofa, long legs crossed elegantly, leafing through a newspaper.
Catching sight of her, her cheeks pink from the run, he turned his sharp, princely face toward her and frowned slightly.
"Don’t run so fast."
Cecilia Ye’s blush deepened as she replied softly, “Okay.”
"I bought you a birthday present. It’s upstairs—go have a look."
Without looking up from his paper, he resumed reading immediately after.
"Alright. Thank you."
She answered obediently and headed toward the stairs, glancing back at the tall, poised figure.
No one knew that her secret had begun from her first day under the Fu family roof—she’d fallen hopelessly in love with this man.
She climbed the steps slowly, and as soon as she entered the room she saw the gift laid out on the bed.
Carefully unwrapping the delicate packaging, she found pearl earrings and a necklace shimmering in silver-blue under the light—clearly expensive.
With slim white fingers, she repackaged the gift and stored it carefully in the drawer, then headed back downstairs.
The housekeeper had dinner ready. There weren’t many living in the estate—just Cecilia Ye on most days, with Xavier Foster dropping by occasionally.
After dinner, the cake was cut. Xavier Foster glanced at her, that cold, unyielding face barely betraying any emotion. "Come to the study for a moment."
Cecilia Ye blinked in surprise, her clear eyes wavering, but she obediently followed him upstairs.
On the long wooden table of the study, a single document sat—stark and lonely. Xavier Foster tipped his chin, signaling her to read it.
The document was thin, just a few sheets. The top read: 'Pre-Nuptial Agreement.'
"Cecilia, let’s get married."
Xavier Foster was tall—one eighty-nine centimeters—always giving off a subtle, looming pressure.
But more than that, he exuded the aura of someone in power.
His tone was cool, conducting business rather than romance.
And that’s exactly what it was—a transaction.
But all Cecilia Ye felt was a wild, dizzying joy. She quickly flipped to the last page, not even bothering to read the rest, and signed her name.
"Grandfather and the others like you—they don’t like Vivian Belle. If I marry you, Grandfather won’t trouble her anymore. Think this through."
His eyes were icy, voice crisp, as if trying to explain.
But Cecilia Ye just smiled at him, clutching the agreement tightly—this was the best gift she had ever received.
Even knowing full well she was nothing more than a shield, a safety net.
She shielded Xavier Foster from unwanted admirers, protecting the white moonlight of his heart.
*
Now, their indifferent marriage had dragged on for four years.
Xavier Foster treated her well—once they registered their marriage, he returned home every day.
He loved her, spoiled her, protected her, giving her a life completely unlike her past.
Cecilia Ye would find herself thinking, perhaps, if Vivian Belle never came back, she could hold onto Xavier Foster forever.
She clung to this stolen happiness, anxious yet unable to let it go.
The sound of a car came from downstairs. Looking out the window, she saw it was Xavier Foster, home again.
Cecilia Ye went downstairs, trailed by a little white puffball at her feet.
They’d found the puppy outside the gate a few months earlier—white and fluffy, like a tiny Bichon Frisé.
She’d named her Zoey Zhang, hung a heart-shaped bell on her collar, and loved her dearly.
Zoey Zhang was attached at the hip, following her into the kitchen as Cecilia Ye crouched down to give her chubby belly a rub.
"Zoey Zhang, be good. I’ll bring some soup to Zhiye."
She carried out a bowl of hot soup. Despite all the staff at the Fu house, Cecilia Ye had learned to cook simple dishes over the years.
Her best skill was making broth—for years, she would always have hot soup waiting whenever Xavier Foster came home.
He strode in from the door, handsome as ever, still carrying a trace of autumn’s chill. A servant took his coat.
"Zhiye, I made pork rib and lotus root soup today. Have some while it’s hot," she said, walking over to greet him.
After their marriage, Xavier Foster had told her to use his first name, and it had taken a while before it started sounding natural.
Xavier Foster seemed a little uneasy, taking just two sips before handing the bowl back.
"What’s wrong, Zhiye? Didn’t you like it?"
She looked up, eyes misty and bright. Over these years, she’d grown even more beautiful—eyes dewy, lashes long and curled like delicate fans.
A tiny mole on her nose made her look all the more alluring—Xavier Foster could never help but kiss it over and over whenever they were in bed.
Xavier Foster’s brow quirked, seeming hesitant. "Come upstairs. I have something to talk to you about."
Watching his back as he went up, anxiety suddenly welled up in Cecilia Ye’s heart. Her pale fingers gripped the soup bowl tightly.
She set the bowl down and walked upstairs, slow and tense.
If it was bad news, let it come just a little slower.
Xavier Foster sat at the table, gestured for her to come over.
Obediently, Cecilia Ye went to sit on his lap.
His low voice sounded in her ear. "Why aren’t you dressed warmer?"
"It’s warm enough at home; I’m not cold."
"What did you do at home today?"
"Nothing much. Just worked on that painting of the hibiscus. It’s nearly done."
"Mmm."
A quiet settled over them.
One of them was searching for the words to break the silence while the other waited for a verdict.
Cecilia Ye closed her eyes, then opened them again. "Zhiye, what do you want to say?"
Xavier Foster was never one to hesitate like this—he rarely bothered softening his words.
"Cecilia, we should get a divorce. Vivian Belle is back."
The words sounded like a tide pulling away, leaving Cecilia Ye biting her lip, her heart steeped in bitterness.
"Alright. I understand."
She sniffed softly, biting her lip, and reached out a hand. "Where’s the divorce agreement? Is it ready?"
Xavier Foster paused, looking at her delicate hand, discomfort flaring in his chest. "Nothing else you want to say?"
"No. You told me a long time ago—when Vivian Belle comes back, we’d get divorced. I never forgot," she answered quietly.
Xavier Foster fell silent, pressing his tongue against his back teeth before handing over the divorce papers.
Cecilia Ye took them, flipped to the last page—just like four years ago—and signed her name.
She had always known this would happen.
His true love had returned, and it was time to make way.
"I’ll start packing and move out tomorrow."
She stood from his lap—this place was no longer her home.
A dark cloud settled between Xavier Foster’s brows, displeasure flickering on his cold face.
He pulled her into his arms, tightening his grip. "Did I say you could leave?"
"No, but I don't want to be a problem for you."
"Even after we divorce, you’ll always be part of the Fu family. I’d never let you be mistreated."
Cecilia Ye shook her head, her glassy eyes shining with stubbornness through a veil of tears.
She rarely went against Xavier Foster’s wishes—this was the first time she had ever defied him.
"I want to move out. What do you expect me to do—stay and watch you with someone else?"
She spoke slowly, each word wounding herself as much as him.
Xavier Foster’s frown deepened, a chill emanating from him. He gripped her delicate chin. "Cecilia Ye, what are you talking about?"
Cecilia Ye shivered, lowering her gaze, and murmured, "Nothing."
Xavier Foster’s eyes turned icy. "Don’t joke like that. You know very well why you came to the Fu family."
"Alright." Her eyes shimmered with tears as she stood. "I’ll run your bath."
She hurried out, looking a little disheveled. Xavier Foster watched her retreating back, a strange feeling growing in his chest.
Warm water flowed into the tub, and as it did, her tears began to fall—one after another.
Four years of dreams—all coming to an end.
Soon, another woman would have Xavier Foster’s arms, his home.
From the beginning, it had all been an exchange. Only she had dared to wish for more.
Before long, Xavier Foster stood at the bathroom door. His tall figure made the doorway look undersized.
He looked at the girl crouched by the tub, her ink-black hair tumbling down her back, her delicate shape hidden by white cotton, one pale leg peeking out and drawing his gaze.
He shook his head, forcing chaotic thoughts aside. His voice was icy: "Is it ready yet?"