Chapter 179

Chapter 179

The night in Veridian wore on, snowflakes still falling in silence.

Inside the ballroom on the top floor of the Peninsula Hotel, lights blazed and elegance filled the air.

A graceful waltz floated through the space as the creative team behind "Dragon's Tear", renowned Hollywood producers, and elite business tycoons mingled and toasted at this grand celebration banquet.

Scarlett, tonight's undeniable star, wore a minimalist white strapless haute couture gown. Tiny diamonds were set into the hem, catching the light with every step she took—like moonlight shimmering on water.

She held a champagne flute, and smiled graciously as she greeted each guest who came to congratulate her.

But her eyes held no warmth.

Those cool, distant eyes swept anxiously through the crowd, searching every possible face.

Nothing.

He was nowhere.

"Looking for that mysterious investor?" Sawyer appeared beside her, handing her a glass of water as his gaze followed hers around the ballroom.

Scarlett took the glass and sipped, masking the disappointment swelling inside her. "He didn't come?"

"His representative said he's already here. But apparently the man's a recluse—doesn't like crowds. He's probably tucked away in some quiet corner somewhere." Sawyer lowered his voice. "Scarlett, do you really think—"

"I don't know, Sawyer. I honestly don't know." Scarlett cut him off. "This afternoon by the lake, that person I saw, that silhouette... it looked too much like him. And those wheelchair tracks, plus what you told me about the masked investor in a wheelchair..."

Could there really be this many coincidences in the world?

"Scarlett." Sawyer saw the redness rimming her eyes, his heart aching for her, but all he could do was sigh helplessly. "I know you can't let him go. But even if it really is him, why wouldn't he see you? Why help you from the shadows but avoid you face-to-face? That's not like Thaddeus at all."

That was true.

The possessive, domineering, controlling Thaddeus—if he were still alive, how could he possibly watch her and the children struggle in a foreign country without coming to find them?

Unless...

Unless he had a reason even more unbearable than death itself.

She thrust the water glass back into Sawyer's hands. "Sawyer, handle the guests for me. I need some air."

The second-floor terrace.

Compared to the noise below, this place felt exceptionally quiet.

The freezing night wind carried snowflakes that hit her face, instantly clearing her head.

Scarlett pulled her white shawl tighter and walked slowly along the terrace.

Her heart pounded. A powerful instinct pulled her forward, drawing her toward the shadowed corner at the far end of the terrace.

There.

With his back to the brilliant lights, facing the distant Alps rising and falling through the night.

A black wheelchair sat motionless.

In the wheelchair sat a man.

He wore an impeccably tailored black overcoat, his broad shoulders filling it with a perfect line, though his back curved slightly, radiating an indescribable loneliness and desolation.

A black fedora sat on his head, the brim pulled low.

Between the hat brim and his collar, half of a silver metal mask was visible, gleaming cold and forbidding in the faint moonlight.

Scarlett held her breath, staring hard at that silhouette.

Was it him?

That broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted outline, that achingly familiar aura of solitary pride...

Even though he was confined to a wheelchair now. Even though he wore a mask. Even though he deliberately hid in darkness.

The moment she saw him, tears spilled down Scarlett's face without warning.

Her heels clicked softly against the snow-dusted terrace floor.

The man in the wheelchair seemed to sense someone approaching. His hands, resting on the armrests, instinctively clenched tight.

Scarlett stopped less than three feet away from him.

She didn't dare go closer.

She was terrified that the moment she reached out, this phantom of a man would dissolve into smoke and vanish.

A gust of snowy wind swept across the lake, brushing past the man and grazing Scarlett's cheek.

It carried a familiar scent.

Cool and crisp, like mountain pine—cold and hard, yet with an almost imperceptible tenderness beneath. The scent that belonged only to Thaddeus. The one she had once craved endlessly.

"Thaddeus..." A broken whisper filled with infinite longing and trembling escaped her throat.

"Thaddeus..." She said it again, tears streaming freely. "Is it you..."

The man's hands gripped the armrests so hard his knuckles went white, veins bulging as if suppressing some overwhelming urge.

"Apologies."

A hoarse voice emerged from beneath the silver mask.

He deliberately lowered his tone, speaking in fluent, flawless English. "I believe you have me confused with someone else, miss."

"That's impossible... I couldn't be wrong..." Scarlett shook her head, trying to move around to his front, desperate to see the face beneath that mask.

"You can disguise your voice, change your language, but your scent, the way you make me feel—how could I ever mistake that!" Scarlett lunged forward, reaching for his shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" The man barked.

He jerked the wheelchair backward, evading her hand.

In the terrace's faint light, Scarlett finally got a clear look at him.

A silver metal mask covered almost his entire face, revealing only his tightly pressed lips.

"I'll say it again. You have the wrong person." Without another glance at her, he frantically worked the wheelchair's controls, fleeing toward another exit.

"Thaddeus! Stop!" Scarlett chased after him like a woman possessed. "Why won't you look at me? If you're alive, why won't you see me! Why are you watching us from the shadows like a stalker!"

"You think just because you're wearing that stupid mask and sitting in a wheelchair, I won't recognize you?"

"Stop right now!"

Scarlett stumbled across the slippery snow, throwing herself recklessly after the retreating figure.

Just as she was about to catch up, Scarlett's foot slipped—

She crashed into the snow.

Her knees and palms scraped raw, blood seeping through.

Hearing the fall behind him, the wheelchair stopped abruptly.

The man's silhouette froze in place. He didn't turn around, but Scarlett could clearly see his broad shoulders trembling violently.

"Don't... worry about me..."

Scarlett struggled up from the snow, tears mingling with melted ice, blurring her vision. "Thaddeus... if you take one more step off this terrace..."

She stared at that rigid back, voice breaking. "I swear—this life, the next, for all eternity—I will never forgive you."

"I'll take Arthur and Orla and marry the first man who'll have me. I'll have them call someone else 'Daddy.'"

"I'll forget you completely. I'll pretend you died in that ocean and stayed dead."

She used the cruelest words she could muster, trying to force out his true heart.

The only response was prolonged silence.

After a long moment—

The man restarted the wheelchair. Through the falling snow, he disappeared into the darkness at the far end of the terrace.

"Thaddeus..."