The living room was adorned with a crystal chandelier chosen by Cassie, and the stair railings had been replaced with cold metal.

Arthur stood behind her, his voice hurried: "I can have people change it back."

"No need." Elena shook her head. "I'm going to move out anyway."

She went upstairs and entered her room. Fortunately, this room hadn't changed much.

She opened the drawer; her diary was gone—she had torn it to shreds herself.

Elena stood in silence for a long time, her fingers brushing the residual scraps of paper in the drawer.

Then she took a deep breath and began to pack her luggage.

Early the next morning, she dragged her suitcase downstairs.

Arthur was sitting at the dining table drinking coffee. Seeing the suitcase, he set his cup down heavily, splashing coffee onto the table.

"What are you doing?"

"Uncle, I’ve found a place. I'm moving out today."

Arthur stood up abruptly, his chair sliding back with a harsh, grating sound.

"Who gave you permission to move?"

Elena stopped and looked at him calmly.

"Uncle, I’m twenty-four. I don't need anyone's permission."

Arthur strode over and pressed his hand onto the handle of her suitcase.

"Elena, explain yourself clearly." His voice was low, laced with clearly suppressed anger.

"You move out the moment you return, without even a word. What do you take me for?"

Elena looked up into his eyes.

In those eyes, there was anger, confusion, and a kind of panic she couldn't decipher.

"Uncle, I told you in advance." She tried to keep her voice steady. "I told you in the car that I was moving out."

"I didn't agree."

"I don't need your agreement."

The air grew stagnant.

Arthur stared at her intensely, his chest heaving violently.

He let go of the suitcase handle and grabbed Elena’s wrist instead, his grip forceful, as if afraid she would run away.

"Elena..." his voice softened suddenly, with a tone that bordered on pleading. "I don't feel safe with you living alone. You’ve never lived by yourself before. What if something happens—"

"I lived by myself in Switzerland for three years." Elena interrupted him. "Didn't I turn out just fine?"

These words acted like a thorn, leaving him speechless.

Elena watched Arthur’s expression shift from anger to shock, and then from shock to a kind of inexplicable heartache.

She knew Arthur felt pained, but she couldn't let herself soften.

"Uncle, let go."

Chapter 13

Arthur did not let go; instead, he gripped her even tighter.

"Send me the address of the place. Otherwise, I won't let you leave." His voice was hoarse.

Elena looked down at his knuckles, which were white from the pressure, and suddenly felt a sour ache in her nose.

Three years ago, he said, "Don't see me again until the wedding."

Three years ago, he let Cassie smash her painting of the stars.

Three years ago, he told Cassie, "Before we get married, I’ll make sure she moves out."

Now, Arthur wouldn't let her leave?

Elena took a deep breath and pried his fingers off, one by one.

"Uncle, I will take care of myself. Didn't your company arrange a position for me? I will be at work on time. As for here—" She glanced around, her gaze sweeping over the unfamiliar decor, "this is no longer my home."

With that, she dragged her suitcase and walked out without looking back.

Behind her came the sound of something shattering on the floor.

It sounded like a coffee cup.

Elena did not turn back.

But the moment she sat in the taxi, the tears finally fell.

Elena, you did the right thing. You cannot turn back; you cannot be softhearted.

You are no longer that eight-year-old child who couldn't live without him.

The car started, and her phone vibrated.

Arthur had sent a message: [Send me your address, or I’ll come after you right now.]

Elena stared at the words, her fingertips hovering over the keyboard, but in the end, she didn't reply.

"Driver, go to Emerald Bay."

That was her new apartment—one bedroom, not big, but enough for her to live alone.

After arriving, she unpacked, took a shower, and lay down on the bed.

The ceiling was white, without the complicated chandelier from Arthur’s house.

It was so quiet she could only hear her own heartbeat.

Elena pulled out her phone and opened that forum thread again.

The page refreshed, and she saw the poster had updated a new entry two hours ago—just after she had left Arthur’s house.

[She is back, but she is moving out. She was very polite to me, like I was a stranger.]

[She said, "Uncle, I am twenty-four." She never used to call me Uncle.]

[I want to tell her so badly that I don't want to be her uncle anymore. But I’m afraid. What if she rejects me? Then I won't even have a reason to stand by her side.]

[Can someone tell me what I should do?]

The comment section was filled with people offering comfort, advice, or calling him a jerk who deserved it.

Elena stared at the words "I am afraid," and tears fell again.

Arthur, what exactly are you afraid of?

And how much do you know of what I am afraid of?

Just as she was about to close the post, she saw a new reply from an unfamiliar female avatar—

[Are you Arthur? I’m Cassie. You think if you don't marry me, you can be with Elena? Keep dreaming. I’ve kept track of all those dirty, twisted thoughts of hers for you.]

Elena’s blood froze instantly.

Cassie knows about this post?

She sat up abruptly, nearly dropping her phone on the floor.

Below the post, people were already asking: [What dirty thoughts? Spill it, OP!]

Cassie didn't reply.

But Elena was already trembling uncontrollably.

Does Cassie still have the screenshots of the diary?

Elena was about to scroll down when the screen suddenly switched to an incoming call.

An unfamiliar number.

She hesitated, then answered.

"Elena, long time no see."

On the other end of the line was Cassie’s laughing voice. "Saw the post? The one your uncle started."

"What do you want?"

"Nothing." She chuckled. "Just wanted to tell you, Arthur went to Switzerland to see you every single month while you were gone. You thought I didn't know? I’m telling you, I won't let you two be together."

"You—"

"Oh, right. I took photos of that diary."

Her voice was as venomous as a viper. "Tell me, what do you think would happen if I posted that content online for everyone to see—that the CEO of the Gu Group has been raising a little psycho who has twisted, dirty thoughts about him?"

Elena went ice cold, unable to speak a single word.

"If you don't want to be completely ruined, stay away from Arthur."

The call ended.

She collapsed onto the floor, shaking all over.

Three years had passed, and Elena thought she had become strong enough, independent enough.

But the moment Cassie’s voice sounded, she was still afraid.

She wasn't afraid of Cassie; she was afraid of those diaries.

She was afraid of those secrets she had written down stroke by stroke between the ages of twelve and twenty-four—secrets that could never see the light of day.

Chapter 14

Her phone vibrated again.

It wasn't Cassie this time; it was Arthur.

[Elena, did you get home? Please reply to me, okay? I’m begging you.]

Elena looked at the word "begging," and tears blurred her vision.

She wanted to reply to Arthur that she had arrived, but Cassie’s warning stuck in her mind like a needle.

In the end, she didn't reply.

She threw the phone aside, curled up under the quilt, and cried silently all night.

The moonlight outside the window was cold, as cold as it was in Switzerland.

But she could never go back to Switzerland.

There was no Cassie there, and no Arthur there.

Only herself.

An Elena who pretended to be strong, an Elena who was twenty-four, and an Elena who was still afraid.

Three days after moving into Emerald Bay, Elena still hadn't fully adapted to living alone.

At seven in the morning, the alarm clock rang.

She got up, washed her face, heated milk, and toasted bread—her movements mechanical, as if following a program.

In the three years in Switzerland, she had learned all the life skills she needed, except for one—how to stop thinking about Arthur.

The phone screen lit up; it was a message from Arthur.

[Today is your first day of work, don’t be late. I’m on my way; I’ll come pick you up.]

Elena bit into her toast, her fingertips hovering over the keyboard for a long time, before finally typing: [No need, Uncle, I’ll take a taxi myself.]

As soon as she hit send, she turned the phone over, as if afraid Arthur could see her guilt through the screen.

She didn't take a taxi that morning; she took the subway for an hour instead.