Seeing the clear emotional turmoil in Damian Fairchild, Quincy Sterling quickly came to a conclusion.
‘For a man, the first love he couldn’t have—even if he was the one who was dumped—still holds a special place in his heart when they meet again years later.’
With this in mind, Quincy Sterling decided to add fuel to the fire.
“Mr.
Fairchild, how could I dare lie to you about something like this?
If Seraphina had no feelings for you, why would she take out a loan to buy you such a nice burial plot at Hallowmount?”
Fearing Damian Fairchild wouldn’t believe her, Quincy Sterling added:
“The Quinn Family is drowning in debt, so much so that Seraphina can’t even afford to eat.
To make matters worse, that Landon Morgan is kicking her while she’s down, making it impossible for her to find a decent job.
To keep up with the loan payments for your plot, Seraphina has to work several odd jobs a day…”
Since returning to the country, Damian Fairchild hadn’t intentionally investigated Seraphina Quinn.
He only knew about the major event of the Quinn Family’s bankruptcy from official news reports; he had no idea how Seraphina Quinn had been faring all these years.
‘A starved camel is still bigger than a horse.’ At worst, she shouldn’t have been reduced to being unable to afford food.
But between the lines, Quincy Sterling was revealing all the hardships and struggles Seraphina Quinn had faced over the years.
The look in Damian Fairchild’s eyes grew dark and heavy.
His sharp gaze was fixed on Seraphina Quinn’s pale face as she lay on the hospital bed, the emotions in his eyes becoming overwhelmingly intense.
‘Does she really…
still love me?’
“Mr.
Fairchild, people have hearts.
Seraphina defied her family to register her marriage with you abroad when she was just eighteen and you were dirt poor.
For that alone, shouldn’t you go a little easy on her?”
Damian Fairchild’s expression remained cold and distant.
After Quincy Sterling finished speaking, he said coolly, “You can leave.
I’ll watch over her tonight.”
With those words, Quincy Sterling was certain that Damian Fairchild still had lingering feelings for Seraphina Quinn.
‘Once a man has lingering feelings for a woman, it means there are more possibilities.’
‘If Seraphina could just get her act together, climb into Damian Fairchild’s bed and become his mistress, she, as her aunt, could also reap quite a few benefits.’
At that thought, Quincy Sterling quickly left the hospital room.
Seraphina Quinn woke up early the next morning.
Day was just breaking.
A figure stood before the luxurious floor-to-ceiling windows.
The first rays of the morning sun spilled over his shoulders.
He stood against the light, his entire form bathed in a halo that made him difficult to see clearly.
Besides, Seraphina Quinn had lost too much blood the night before.
Her head was spinning and her vision was blurry, making it even harder to see the person clearly.
But the sound of her trying to prop herself up quickly made the person turn around.
“You’re awake?”
Having kept watch all night, Damian Fairchild’s voice was terribly hoarse.
He picked up a pillow and placed it behind Seraphina Quinn.
“Are you feeling any better?”
The response he received was a slap across the cheek, delivered with all the woman’s might, yet it lacked any real sting.
That, and her furious roar, “Get out!
I never…
want to see you again for the rest of my life!”
She screamed herself hoarse, her voice nearly breaking as tears streamed down her face.
It was difficult for Seraphina Quinn to calm down.
She had already lost everything.
But Damian Fairchild had even destroyed her last shred of hope.
‘For her…
living was a fate worse than death.’
Damian Fairchild had expected her to lose control when she saw him, but he hadn’t anticipated she would be this agitated.
He looked down at Seraphina Quinn for a moment, then pulled out a tissue to wipe her tear-reddened eyes.
In a rare show of good temper, he said,
“You’re weak right now, so I’ll let that slap slide.”
He paused, his next words laced with dominance and a clear warning.
“But, if you keep trying to kill yourself, Quinn Manor won’t be the only thing I bulldoze next.
For example, there’s Wyatt Quinn, who might have his case overturned and be released.
He’s your last remaining relative in the Quinn Family, isn’t he?”
Seraphina Quinn turned her head away, dodging Damian Fairchild’s attempt to wipe her tears.
Damian Fairchild wasn’t one to press the issue when snubbed.
He crumpled the tissue into a ball, tossed it casually into the trash can, and looked at Seraphina Quinn.
“I have three questions for you.”
Seraphina Quinn took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down.
‘Confronting Damian Fairchild head-on now would be like an egg hitting a rock—utterly futile.’
‘I must have lost my mind last night to do something to harm myself.’
‘Now that my head is clear, I know how stupid that was.
Because I’m a mother.
I don’t even have the right to die.’
‘So, I have to live!’
She lifted her head.
Aside from her red-rimmed eyes, her gaze was now completely calm.
Her voice was cold.
“What questions?”
Damian Fairchild’s sharp eyes locked onto her face, not missing a single flicker of emotion in her gaze.
“First, when we broke up back then, were there extenuating circumstances?”
“No,” Seraphina Quinn blurted out without hesitation.
Damian Fairchild: “Fine. This chapter was copied from novelping.com without permission.
Second question, why did you buy me a burial plot at Hallowmount?”
Seraphina Quinn’s throat tightened.
Her gaze met Damian Fairchild’s piercing eyes.
“For…
peace of mind.”
Damian Fairchild: “For peace of mind?”
Seraphina Quinn: “Yes.
Back then, I kicked you to the curb when you loved me the most, and then you had your accident.
I felt guilty about it.
I was afraid you’d become a vengeful ghost and haunt me every night.
To avoid being tormented by my conscience, and for my own peace of mind, I bought you a burial plot.”
The look in Damian Fairchild’s eyes sharpened, his cold, intense gaze seeming to pierce right through her soul.
“So you’re saying you did all this just for your own peace of mind?”
“Yes,” Seraphina Quinn shot back again without a second’s thought.
“What else would it be for?
Because I love you?
If I’d known you’d turn out so ruthless and cold, I’d wish I could go back five years and slap some sense into the Seraphina Quinn who was so desperate to marry you.”
Her words made Damian Fairchild laugh, but it was a laugh born of anger.
“So, are you telling me you regret marrying me?”
Seraphina Quinn sneered, “To be precise, I don’t regret marrying you.
I regret *loving* you!”
She paused, tears falling even as she smiled.
“The most regrettable, most disgusting thing I’ve ever fucking done is fall in love with someone like you.”
The desolate wasteland in Damian Fairchild’s chest cracked once more, and this time, nothing would ever grow there again.
He withdrew his gaze from Seraphina Quinn’s face.
His voice was frigid.
“Seraphina Quinn.”
He said her full name.
His voice was flat and direct, yet as merciless as a god sentencing a prisoner to death.
A tremor ran through Seraphina Quinn’s chest.
She lifted her eyes to look at him.
As their gazes met, a silent pain seemed to well up between them.
“The twenty-year-old Damian Fairchild who was deeply in love with you died five years ago.”
“The man standing before you now is the Crown Prince of the Fairchild Consortium, and his wife’s name is Audrey Winslow.”
“He never regretted loving you.
But he no longer belongs to you.” He paused.
“From now on, we are…
complete strangers, in life and in death.”
Seraphina Quinn’s clenched fists tightened and loosened, tightened and loosened again, before finally falling limply to her sides.
She lowered her head, her eyelashes growing damp as her vision blurred.
After a long silence, she finally spoke, her voice somewhat hoarse.
“You still haven’t asked your third question.”