Sixteen or seventeen is the age of reckless abandon. Some boys spend it racing cars, others chasing girls, and some getting tattoos and lip piercings. William Knight, however, spent it raising a young girl by his side.
Everyone knew he treated this "sister" of his like the crown jewel of his heart. He spoiled her beyond reason, giving her whatever she desired and taking her wherever he went.
The little piece of "trash" the Bell family hadn't wanted had been raised by him into a little princess.
When Diana spoke to Eleanor Hayes about her past abandonment, she no longer felt the sting of sorrow. Every trauma inflicted by her biological family had been mended by William.
What truly hurt was the realization that she was being pushed down a path where she would inevitably lose him—a momentum she couldn't stop.
For a fleeting second, she felt like a thief who had stolen someone else's shadow. Every ounce of William's kindness had become a heavy shackle on her heart. If this kindness had an expiration date, how was she supposed to survive once it arrived?
That emotion called "love" was like a silent plague, spreading wildly through someone as dependent on him as she was. More than once in the dead of night, she had loathed herself: That is your brother. That is the man who pulled you out of the abyss. How dare you have these feelings?
She sat on a bench by the river for a while. The wind grew fiercer, tangling her hair into a mess.
The icy river breeze failed to blow away her melancholy; instead, it gave her a suffocating sensation, as if she were drowning.
If only I could wake up and be a child again.
It would be better to never grow up.
A black supercar roared past her, the piercing engine note slicing through the night. A moment later, it slowed down and sluggishly reversed.
The sharp honk of a car horn jolted Diana from her long daze. She looked back blankly to see the black supercar idling at the curb.
Jasper Sterling rolled down the window, revealing a face of striking, aggressive handsomeness. His eyes, which held a touch of cold indifference for everyone, lingered on Diana's tear-flushed eyes for half a second. He glanced at the rushing river behind her and arched an eyebrow.
"Are you jumping because you can't have me? Talk about being devoted."
The heavy, oppressive atmosphere was instantly punctured by that incredibly obnoxious remark.
The weary, "wanting-to-watch-the-world-burn" energy Diana had been feeling was forcibly transformed into pure exasperation. She turned her head away, but after a few seconds, she couldn't hold it in and let out a small laugh.
She immediately pressed her lips together, pretending she hadn't smiled.
Is this man's brain wired differently? Who inserts a comedy bit into a tragic drama?
"Get in," Jasper said, concise and commanding.
Diana didn't move. She always felt that Jasper was more dangerous than the river.
"So, is jumping a mandatory requirement tonight?" Jasper leaned back, crossing his arms in a posture of someone waiting for a show to start. "Go ahead then. Let me see something new. I'll even record a final testament for you."
"I wasn't going to jump. I was just sitting here for a while," Diana explained, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes. "You don't need to worry about me. I can get home myself."
"Then should I call your brother to come talk you down?"
Jasper casually pulled out his phone, his finger hovering over the screen.
"..."
That move hit Diana exactly where it hurt. She sighed, surrendering to fate as she pulled open the passenger door and slid inside.
The interior of the car was filled with a cold, woody fragrance, much like the man himself. He didn't start the engine immediately. Instead, he turned his head, his scrutinizing gaze feeling as though it could see right through her.
Sensing his stare, she turned to look at him, her eyes puzzled. "What is it?"
"Waiting for you to cry."
Jasper's fingers tapped rhythmically against the steering wheel—well-defined knuckles exuding a lazy sense of pressure. "When are we starting? Do I need to shout 'action' for you?"
"I'm not going to cry," Diana said with a hint of annoyance.
"Right. You're saving it for when you can throw yourself into your brother's arms at home. How old are you? Still so picky about who you cry to," Jasper sneered.
Diana was speechless. She found that she always ended up on the losing side of an argument with Jasper. When this man chose to be poisonous, he spared no one.
The supercar tore down the highway. The sheer force of the acceleration forced her mind to go blank. They finally came to a stop at a red light next to a gaudily modified pink G-Wagon.
A woman in heavy makeup leaned out of the window and blew a whistle at Jasper. "Hey handsome, want some company?"
Because the supercar sat so low, she hadn't noticed Diana tucked away in the passenger seat.
"Can't do it," Jasper said, one hand resting on the window ledge, his tone unreadable. "I've got an ancestor sitting in the car with me."
"Who?" the woman persisted.
Jasper glanced at Diana, a wicked, playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Someone I just fished out of the river. Apparently, she'll die if I don't pay attention to her."
Diana: "..."
You're the one who's suicidal!
A second before the light turned green, the woman flicked a business card into the car. Jasper spun the card between his fingers; he didn't throw it away, but instead casually tucked it into the gap by the windshield.
The inexplicable knot in Diana's chest tightened.
The car eventually turned into a narrow, secluded alleyway. The lights here were dim, casting a vintage, weathered glow.
Is he going to sell me off?
The car door slammed shut as Jasper got out first. Diana stayed put until he tapped on her window.
"Do I need to carry you out?" Jasper's shadow loomed over the glass.
Diana cracked the window open an inch, asking warily, "What are we doing here?"
"I have to invite you? You've got quite the princess attitude," Jasper said, leaning over with his right hand braced against the car roof. He gave a lazy, mock bow. "Please, Your Royal Highness."
"We're eating noodles."
He pointed to a signless old shop on the corner, where a single, flickering warm bulb hung over the entrance.
"I'm not hungry."
"I wasn't asking you," Jasper replied. "If you're not hungry, you can just watch me eat."
Diana pursed her lips and followed behind him.
Though the shop was dilapidated, the rich, savory aroma of bone broth lingering in the air was surprisingly enticing. Despite her lack of appetite moments ago, Diana's stomach gave a treacherous, hungry flutter.