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I received a majority share of his company and, with Sophia's permission, legally changed her last name to mine.
I heard bits and pieces about Isabella.
Liam had given her a sum of money to leave the city, but she had refused, causing scenes at his office and demanding 20% of the company. He finally saw her for who she truly was, called the police, and even took back the money he had given her.
She drifted from man to man, and within six months, had contracted a serious illness. Lucas was sent back to his grandmother in the countryside.
After the divorce, Liam would fly to San Francisco once a month to see Sophia, hoping to repair their relationship.
He always left disappointed.
She would go out with him, but would beg to come home within a few hours.
She never called him Dad. I asked her about it once.
She said every time she tried, the memory of that day at the kindergarten would flash in her mind, and the word would get stuck in her throat.
After Sophia graduated from preschool, Alexander proposed.
I said no. Marriage was a cage.
I had just stopped being Mrs. Hayes， I had no desire to immediately become Mrs. Prescott.
I took a year off for Sophia.
We traveled the world.
We saw the snow-capped mountains of Tibet, the Northern Lights in Iceland, the sunsets over the Seine.
We listened to the wind and watched the clouds, and slowly, piece by piece, I helped her heal.
I wanted her to know that the world was vast, and her life was full of infinite possibilities.
She didn't have to be defined by her past.
When we returned, I took over my family's business.
The board of directors whispered that my father had gone senile, handing the company over to his spoiled, pampered daughter.
Then, at the first shareholder meeting, I exposed several senior executives for embezzlement, fired them, and used my years of market knowledge to launch a new product line that quickly dominated the industry.
They realized I had come prepared.
I would occasionally run into people I knew from my old life.
They'd tell me Liam had become a workaholic, that the only time he showed any emotion was when my name, or Sophia's, was mentioned.
"It's such a shame," they'd say.
"You two were the couple everyone envied. And he threw it all away for another man's wife and child. Is it true Sophia still won't call him Dad?"
I would just smile and change the subject.
My phone buzzed. A text from my assistant.
[The meeting is running late. No way to make it for pickup.]
My parents were traveling, so I called Alexander.
He picked Sophia up and brought her to my office.
We had dinner, and he drove us home. Sophia, older now and valuing her privacy, ran straight upstairs.
In the garden, under the soft glow of the moon, Alexander and I were alone.
"Emma," he said, his tone halfway between joking and serious, "if I proposed to you right now, would you still say no?"
I sighed. "Alexander, I don't think I'll ever get married again."
"I can wait..." he started, but his voice trailed off.
He was, by all accounts, the perfect husband.
The sole heir to his family's fortune, handsome, kind, and wonderful to me and Sophia.
My mother had once asked if I truly felt nothing for him.
I didn't answer then. But now, looking at the flicker of disappointment in his eyes, I smiled.
"But," I said, "seeing as you bought me dinner..."
I paused, letting the warm June breeze drift between us.
In the moonlight, Alexander's eyes, which had dimmed just a moment before, suddenly lit up, a slow smile spreading across his face.
"Perhaps," I continued, "you can have a room of your own at my place."
(End)
