After giving her wedding gift at his engagement party, she turned and boarded the overnight flight out of the country.
No tears, no pleas for him to stay, no looking back.
Three years as a substitute, and she'd been waiting for this moment.
The second the System finished calculating her reward, she opened a bottle of champagne.
Then the tycoon who had never once bowed his head crushed the champagne flute in his hand in front of all of Beijing's elite.
“Shut down the air routes. She has claustrophobia. She'll be scared alone on the plane.”
But she had long since learned to count to ten, open her eyes, and raise her glass.
No one knew how many tens she'd counted to make it this far.
[She isn't running away. She's keeping an appointment: a promise to herself and the life that belongs to her alone.]
