Love Scattered by the Wind Hatred Drowned in Oblivion

Remove the mango cheesecake. Bring the strawberry mousse instead.

And the foie gras. Switch it to the steak.

The moment Simon Henson arrived, he started commanding the waiter to overhaul the entire table.

I watched in silence as the dishes I had carefully chosen were cleared away one by one. My appetite vanished. A cold knot twisted in its place.

"Is Jasmine going to be mad?"

The girl in the wheelchair looked up at me with wide, timid eyes.

Today was New Year's Eve. It was also our anniversary.

But I was used to this routine. Every major holiday, Simon brought his adopted sister along. She was his responsibility, after allher leg had been crushed for his sake.

Simon smoothed her hair. "Your Jasmine isn't that petty."

He turned to me, his gaze softening into a practiced apology.

I forced a smile. "It's fine."

It didn't matter anymore. From this moment on, whatever Simon did would no longer concern me.

As soon as Simon finished speaking, Sarah Henson added cautiously, "Jasmine, I'm sorry. I didn't do it on purpose."

"The doctor said my leg recovers slower when I'm in a bad mood, so my brother..."

She stopped halfway, her voice dissolving into soft, barely audible sobs.

Simon immediately crouched down, pulling out a tissue to dab at tears that didn't exist.

"Alright, alright, it's not your fault."

"It's on me. I forgot to ask her in advance."

He looked up. His eyes hardened the second they landed on me.

"Jasmine, apologize to Sarah."

"You scared her."

My smile stiffened. Froze on my face.

"Scared her? How?"

"Didn't I just say it was fine?"

Simon's patience snapped.

"You call that fine? Dissatisfaction is written all over your face!"

"Sarah is in poor health. Is it so hard for you to yield to her, just a little?"

His raised voice drew curious glances from the neighboring tables.

I lowered my head, refusing to play the role of the immature shrew in this public farce.

"Fine. Sorry."

I looked directly at Sarah, enunciating every word.

"I shouldn't have been unhappy. I shouldn't have scared you."

Sarah's face went pale. She shook her head frantically.

"No, Jasmine, don't be like that! It's all my fault!"

"Brother, stop blaming Jasmine. Let's just go home. I won't eat anymore, okay?"

As she spoke, she tried to maneuver her wheelchair around.

The wheel clipped the table leg. A sharp cry of pain escaped her lips. Her body tilted precariously to the side.

Simon reacted instantly, catching her before she fell. He whipped his head around, his voice a low, dangerous growl.

"Jasmine Delgado! Are you satisfied now?!"

He scooped Sarah into his arms and stormed out of the restaurant, leaving me behind without a backward glance.

The waiter stood there awkwardly, the strawberry mousse still in his hand.

"Miss, this..."

I picked up my coat.

"Pack it up. Someone likes it."

When I returned to the villa, it was pitch black.

I went straight to the second floor.

The master bedroom door was tightly shut. From inside came the sound of Sarah's suppressed weeping and Simon's gentle, murmuring comfort.

"I told you, she didn't mean it."

"She just has that temper. It's not your first day knowing her."

"Is your leg more important, or her mood? It's not even a question."

I stood outside the door, listening as his words stabbed through my chest like shards of glass.

My stomach churned violently.

I rushed into the bathroom and retched until the world spun around me.

In my pocket, my fist clenched around the plastic stick until the edges bit into my palm. The pregnancy test was crushed out of shape.

Simon... our child.

Would this baby also be less important than her leg?

Time lost its meaning as I leaned over the sink. Eventually, heavy footsteps echoed in the hall.

Simon pushed the bathroom door open. He paused, taking in my pale face and trembling form.

"What's wrong? Are you sick?"

He stepped forward, reaching out to pat my back.

I flinched away.

"It's nothing. I ate too much."

Perhaps realizing he had gone too far earlier, his tone softened.

"Jasmine, I know today is our anniversary. I wronged you."

"But you know Sarah's situation. That car accident three years ago... she ended up like this because of me..."

"I know." My voice came out hollow, cutting him off. "You say it every year. I remember it vividly."

My bluntness choked him. His expression darkened.

"Do you have to speak to me with that attitude?"

"I'm just stating facts. Sarah can't leave you. You're family. If I treat her well, I'm treating you well, right?"

I met his eyes.

"So, what about our anniversary? Can that be given to her too?"

"You're being irrational!"

He slammed the door and stormed off.

A moment later, the door to the master bedroom opened and closed.

He had gone to comfort the sister who "couldn't leave him."

How ironic.

When I woke the next morning, Simon was already gone.

On the nightstand sat a velvet box with a note tucked beneath it.

*Jasmine, don't be angry anymore. It's the necklace you liked.*

I flipped the box open. Inside lay a dazzling diamond necklace, a new design I had glanced at in a magazine days ago.

But I felt nothing. No joy, no excitement.

Just a dull numbness.

It was his standard operating procedure: a slap in the face followed by a sweet treat. We had played this scene countless times.

I tossed the necklace into the drawer. It landed atop a pile of other expensive "apologies."

I went downstairs. Jessica Hoffman, the housekeeper, was preparing breakfast.

"Madam, you're up? Would you like some hot milk?"

I shook my head. The thought of food made my stomach turn.

Jessica had been hired by Simon to manage the household. Warm-hearted, but she talked too much.

"When Mr. Henson left this morning, he asked me to tell you he's sorry."

"He also said... please don't hold a grudge against Ms. Henson. She's just a young girl, and with her broken leg... she's truly pitiful."

My lips curled into a bitter smile.

Everyone told me not to hold a grudge against her.

But who would ever tell her not to hold a grudge against me?

I was there during the accident three years ago.

It was Simon's birthday. He had been drinking and insisted on speeding.

I couldn't stop him, so I was forced to go along with his madness.

Sarah sat in the back seat, her face flushed with admiration and excitement.

When we took the turn, a massive truck barreled toward us, headlights blinding in the darkness.

I only had time to scream.

Simon yanked the steering wheel. The car slammed into the guardrail. The rear spun out, crushing against the mountainside.

Because I was wearing a seatbelt, I escaped with minor scrapes.

Simon was fine, too.

But Sarah... the deformed chassis had pinned her leg.

I still remember how he held Sarah, covered in blood, and roared at me, his eyes wild with panic and rage.

"Jasmine Delgado! This is all your fault! If you hadn't insisted on clinging to me! If you hadn't argued with me! I wouldn't have been distracted!"

"If she dies, Jasmine, you're going into the ground with her!"

Was I clinging to him?

He was the one who, drunk on his birthday, dragged me out for a drive.

Was I arguing with him?

It was his mother calling again, berating me for being unworthy, demanding he break up with me.

But the truth was pale and powerless against Sarah's shattered leg.

From that day on, Simon placed the cross of guilt squarely on my shoulders.

And Sarah became the saint he had to devote his life to repaying.

"Madam, Ms. Henson is here. She's waiting for you in the living room." Jessica's voice pulled me from my thoughts.

I walked downstairs to find Sarah sitting in her wheelchair, a beautifully wrapped box in her lap.

"Jasmine." Seeing me, she flashed a sugary smile. "Yesterday was my fault."

"I made these cookies myself. Will you try them?"

I looked at her coldly.

"What do you want?"

Her smile faltered for a second before she recovered.

"My brother went to the neighboring city for a meeting. He won't be back until this evening."

"He was afraid you'd be bored, so he asked me to keep you company."

She placed the cookies on the table and, as if by accident, added, "Oh, right. Jasmine, that bracelet you wore yesterday was stunning. What brand was it?"

I glanced down at my wrist.

Empty.

It was the first gift Simon had ever given me. I never took it off.

Last night, in my distress, I must have left it on the bathroom sink.

Panic flared in my chest. I turned and ran back upstairs.

But the sink was bare, save for my skincare bottles.

The bracelet was gone.

I rushed back down, my gaze locking onto Sarah.

"Where is my bracelet?"

Sarah looked the picture of innocence.

"What bracelet? Jasmine, I don't know what you're talking about."

"When I arrived, Jessica was cleaning the guest room. You should ask her."

I turned to Jessica.

The housekeeper looked flustered. "Madam, I... I didn't see any bracelet."

I was shaking with rage.

There were only three people in this villa.

If it wasn't the maid, who else could it be?

Seeing the storm brewing in my eyes, Sarah said timidly, "Jasmine, don't be angry. Maybe you remembered wrong?"

"Or... maybe it fell somewhere?"

"Is it that important to you?"

"Hand it over."

The color drained from Sarah's face instantly.

"Jasmine... I'm sorry, I really didn't take it..."

Her eyes reddened on cue, big, heavy tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I... I'll help you look! I'll help you find it!"

She began to laboriously turn her wheelchair, craning her neck to look under the sofa and into the crevices of the cabinets.

Her performance was flawlessthe pitiful, disabled girl trying to appease the unreasonable villain.

Jessica couldn't stand it. She stepped forward to mediate.

"Madam, please don't be anxious. It must have fallen somewhere."

"Ms. Henson isn't well. Please don't scare her."

Watching the two of them perform this synchronized routine made my stomach turn.

"Get out."

I pointed a trembling finger at Sarah.

"Take your things and get out of my house."

Sarah recoiled, staring at me blankly as her tears flowed harder.

Jessica hurried to push the wheelchair toward the door.

"Ms. Henson, you should go back first. Madam is in a bad mood today."

At the doorway, Sarah turned back, her voice choked with sobs.

"Jasmine, please don't be angry. When I get home, I'll make my brother buy you an exact replacement!"

"Nomake him buy ten!"

A cold, sharp laugh escaped my lips.

She always knew exactly where to stick the knife.

After she left, I called Simon.

The phone rang for a long time before he answered. The background was noisy.

"Hello? Jasmine? I'm in a meeting. What is it?"

"Sarah took my bracelet. Tell her to return it." I didn't waste time with pleasantries.

Simon's voice dropped, icy and dangerous.

"Jasmine Delgado, what is this nonsense now?"

"Sarah is innocent. How could she possibly steal your things?"

"Are you still sulking over what happened yesterday?"

A bitter, incredulous laugh escaped my lips.

"Innocent? Simon Henson, are you blind?"

"After all these years, do you really not understand your own sister?"

Silence stretched on the other end of the line.

"Jasmine, how much was the bracelet? I'll wire you the money. Just stop bullying Sarah, alright?"

"She's pitiful enough as it is."

*Click.*

I hung up. I didn't have the energy to listen to another word.

Being with him... it felt utterly meaningless.

That night, Simon returned home.

"Tell me, which brand was it? I'll buy you a replacement."

I didn't answer. Instead, I slammed a document onto the coffee table.

"I want this."

An equity transfer agreement.

Specifically, for the 10% stake in the company my father had left me.

Years ago, to support his startup, I had transferred these shares to him without asking for a penny.

Now, I wanted them back.

He stared at the document. The color drained from his face until he was ashen.

"Jasmine, what is the meaning of this?"

"Exactly what it looks like."

"I'm taking back what belongs to me."

He surged to his feet, his gaze locking onto mine.

"Over a bracelet? You're doing this over a damn bracelet?"

"You're really going to settle accounts with me like a stranger?"

"In your heart, is our three-year marriage worth less than a piece of jewelry?"

I met his gaze calmly.

"In your heart, am I worth less than a single strand of Sarah Henson's hair?"

"You!"

He choked on his rage, chest heaving.

After a long, tense moment, the fight seemed to drain out of him. He slumped back onto the sofa, rubbing his brow.

"Jasmine, stop making trouble."

"I know you feel wronged, but Sarah... she told me today she wants to seek treatment for her legs."

"She said she doesn't want to be a burden to me anymore."

"There's a specialist in Decheng, a top authority. I need to take her there."

I listened. My expression didn't change.

"So?"

"So, the company needs working capital right now. Can we put the shares issue aside?"

He looked up at me, his eyes taking on that familiar, pleading quality that used to melt my heart.

"Once the IPO is successful, I'll give you half the shares. Okay?"

I looked at him and laughed.

It must have been an ugly sound.

"Simon Henson, do you really think I'm that easy to fool?"

"Jasmine? You think I'm lying to you?"

"I thought you understood me better than anyone! When did you become like this?"

"Petty! Unreasonable!"

Watching him fluster and rage, I felt nothing but cold amusement.

"What have I become?"

"I just refuse to be the fool you manipulate anymore."

"Simon, return the shares, or we divorce. Simple as that."

"Impossible!" He cut me off. "The company is at a critical stage. I won't let you destroy it!"

"Then I'll see you in court."

I turned to leave.

"Jasmine!"

He caught my wrist. His grip was bruising.

"Does it have to end like this?"

"We have years of history. Can you really just throw it all away on a whim?"

I ripped my hand from his grasp.

"You were the one who threw it away first."

"From the moment you sacrificed me over and over for Sarah, we were finished."

He stood frozen, clearly stunned by the finality in my voice.

I didn't look back. I walked into the bedroom and locked the door.

My heart hammered against my ribsnot from excitement, but from a hollow, devastating ache.

I pulled out my phone and dialed.

The call connected instantly. A steady, professional male voice answered.

"Hello, Ms. Delgado."

My private investigator.

"Is it ready?"

"It is. Mr. Henson and his foster sister share a 'sibling bond' that is far more interesting than you suspected." His tone was dry. "I've sent the photos and videos to your email."

I hung up, booted up my laptop, and opened my inbox.

One by one, the files loaded.

Nausea rolled through my stomach.

Photos of Simon holding Sarah, kissing her on the sofa.

Videos of Simon changing the dressing on her legs, his hands lingering, wandering where they shouldn't.

Sarah in a sheer nightgown, perched on Simon's lap, feeding him fruit by hand.

I watched it all. My face felt numb.

So, his "repaying a debt of gratitude" was repaid in bed.

His "responsibility" was an affair with another woman, paraded right under the nose of his legitimate wife.

I downloaded everything to a USB drive.

Just then, my phone screen lit up with a text message.

*Ms. Delgado, this is Dr. Fox. Your latest test results show some abnormalities. We recommend you come to the hospital immediately for a detailed re-examination. This concerns the health of the fetus.*

I stared at the words *health of the fetus*.

My blood ran cold.

Grabbing my coat, I rushed out of the room.

In the living room, Simon sat on the sofa, surrounded by a haze of cigarette smoke.

Seeing me in a panic, he stood up immediately.

"It's late. Where are you going?"

I ignored him and headed for the door.

He chased after me, grabbing my arm.

"I asked you where you're going!"

"Let go!"

I struggled, but his grip was iron.

"Jasmine, what exactly are you trying to do?!"

"Just because I didn't agree to your demands, you're going out? Are you going to cheat on me?!"

His eyes were bloodshot, filled with humiliation and something close to madness.

I looked at him, and the absurdity of it all nearly made me laugh.

I unlocked my phone, pulled up the call log, and shoved the contact labeled "Dr. Freya Fox" in his face.

"Look closely at who I am going to see."

He froze.

"Jasmine, you... are you sick?"

I didn't answer. I wrenched my hand free.

But he followed me.

Just as I stepped out the front door, a shrill scream tore through the air from inside the house.

"Brother! My stomach! It hurts so much! There's blood! Save me!"

Simon stopped dead in his tracks.