Chapter 264: She Became Someone Else's Wife

When Edward left the hospital, the streets were nearly deserted.

The streetlights stretched his shadow long across the empty sidewalk, like a river that had lost its way.

He drove aimlessly around the city for a while before finally stopping in front of the long-vacant marital home.

Afraid of stirring up painful memories, Edward hadn't lived here in ages. He refused to sell it or rent it out, only arranging for regular cleaning.

A housekeeper came once a week to open the windows, change the water in the vases, and dust the untouched belongings that remained exactly where they'd always been. But no one had truly lived here in years.

He pushed open the bedroom door without turning on the light. Moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating the wedding photo hanging above the bed.

In the picture, Jenna wore a white wedding gown, her smile poised and proper, the curve of her lips carefully adjusted. Yet beneath it lurked a barely perceptible nervousness.

He stood beside her in a crisp suit, his expression as detached as a stranger's.

The photographer had asked him to smile. He hadn't.

He remembered Jenna crying in the dressing room that day. He'd stood outside the door and heard her, but never went in.

His fingers traced lightly over the glass frame, over her photographed face.

If he could turn back time, would he have opened that door?

Would he have actually smiled when the photographer asked?

Would he have put down his phone and truly looked at her when she anxiously watched his expression?

He didn't know. There were no "what ifs" in this world.

On the nightstand sat the hairbrush she'd once used, a few fine strands of hair still caught between the bristles.

In the drawer lay a silk scarf she'd left behind, neatly folded, pale blue—her favorite color.

The closet still held several coats she rarely wore, a small silver charm dangling from one zipper.

She'd taken none of these when she left, perhaps deeming them not worth carrying. Yet he'd kept them all, like holding onto a dream long since dissolved.

He opened the vanity drawer. Inside lay an old photo album.

Earlier photographs.

Pictures she'd secretly taken of him when they first met.

In one photo, he sat on a bench by the basketball court, drenched in sweat, unscrewing a water bottle. Her camera had caught him mid-motion.

He remembered that day—she'd run over with her camera, face flushed, saying, "Edward, let me take your picture!"

He'd waved her off impatiently, telling her not to. But her fingers were quick—the shutter had already clicked.

He'd thought nothing of the photo then.

Looking at it now, he realized how well she'd captured him.

The boy in that frame had clear eyes, untainted by the mess that came later.

The objects remained, but she had become someone else's wife.

Edward closed the album and returned it to the drawer, his fingers lingering on the edge for a long moment.

Then he lifted his head and looked at his reflection in the mirror—eyes slightly reddened. Suddenly, he smiled.

This was good, actually.

He thought to himself.

She'd found her happiness. That man would walk with her through the rest of her life, hold her when she cried, and tuck her into bed with reddened eyes after she'd snuck off to do something dangerous.

And he himself should finally walk the path he should have taken long ago.

Perhaps this was their best ending.

She'd moved forward. He didn't want to stand still anymore either.

He stood, smoothed out the bedding, drew the curtains, removed the dried flowers from the vase on the vanity, and tossed them in the trash.

Then he turned off the light and walked out of the bedroom filled with old memories, never looking back.

The next morning, at the airport.

The early departure hall was sparsely populated, boarding announcements cycling through the speakers.

Edward stood at the international departures entrance wearing a charcoal gray coat, a small suitcase in hand, looking up at the electronic board displaying flight information.

Eldoria, Majestic City. Departure: 8:40 AM.

"Mr. Russell."

He turned around.

Mark stood behind him in his usual dark suit, briefcase in hand.

Half a head shorter than Edward, he wore gold-rimmed glasses and typically maintained an impeccably controlled expression—except for that one argument between them.

But now, his eyes were red.

"What are you doing here?" Edward frowned.

Mark didn't answer. Instead, he pulled a plane ticket from his briefcase and held it up.

Same flight, same class. The seat number was just across the aisle from Edward's.

"What's this about?" Edward's voice dropped.

"I'm coming with you." Mark's tone remained steady as ever, as if reporting a routine travel arrangement.

Edward stared at the ticket, silent for several seconds, then slowly shook his head.

"Mark, this trip to Eldoria is about severing ties. Those people have been operating there for years—their roots run deep. You know that. If I go, there's a good chance I won't come back. I can't let you follow me into that."

"Then I definitely need to go." Mark gripped the ticket stubbornly.

"Mr. Russell, I've been with you for ten years. Ten years. Since you took over the company, I've been by your side. When you were happy, I was there. When things were hardest, I was there too. This time—"

"Mark." Edward interrupted, his voice suddenly gentle.

He stepped forward and placed a hand on Mark's shoulder, looking intently at the assistant who'd been with him for a decade.

Mark was a few years younger—just a fresh graduate with student-style black-framed glasses when he'd first joined Russell Corporation. Earnest to a fault, he'd been scolded many times, yet never once absent when Edward needed him most.

"Mark, you're still young. You're not married yet." Edward said quietly.

"You have a long road ahead. I can't let you cut it short because of me."

Mark's lips trembled. The tears in his eyes finally spilled down his cheeks.

He removed his glasses and wiped at them with the back of his hand, but couldn't clear them. Finally giving up, he simply looked at Edward with reddened eyes.

"Mr. Russell..."

Edward stepped forward and embraced him.

The hug was firm but brief—so short that Mark barely had time to respond before Edward released him, stepping back to meet his eyes again.

"You still have many tasks ahead. If I don't come back, my will is in the second drawer on the left in my office. The password is my birthday. Give it to my mother and Jenna."

Fresh tears streamed down Mark's face. He opened his mouth to speak, but Edward raised a hand to stop him.

"Also, watch over Andy as he grows up. Don't tell him who I am. If he asks when he's older, just say I went somewhere far away and might not return, but that I always thought of him."

His voice was steady, as if discussing ordinary business rather than his final wishes.

"I've left you some money in your personal account. It's not salary or a bonus—it's what you've earned. Take care of yourself."

Mark stood frozen, tears streaming silently down his face. His lips quivered as if trying to speak, but no words came.

Edward looked at him and suddenly smiled, patting his shoulder.

"Come on, I never realized you were such a crybaby."