The Vanishing Heiress

Chapter 29

At seventeen, Ethan Sterling would hold an umbrella for her, would rescue her from the suffocating Montgomery household...

"Megan, don't be afraid. Even if no one else likes you, I do."

Seventeen-year-old Ethan stood beneath the kapok tree, smiling brilliantly.

He was the one who first said he loved her.

So why did everything change?

Why did he become a different person after the kidney transplant? Why did he stop believing her when Rachel got into trouble?

Why did he send her to prison?

Why, after seven years, was he still tormenting and humiliating her?

Why did he enter a sham marriage with Rachel?

Why couldn't he just let her go?

What was all this for?!

Something inside Megan clawed at her chest, desperate to break free.

Grief and rage tangled together until she finally screamed, voice raw—

"Why are you doing this to me? Why?!"

She hadn't forgotten. Not a single thing.

She thought changing her name, moving to another country, finding new friends and a mother figure, even picking up her paintbrush again—being recognized by the art world—meant she had moved on.

But she hadn't.

She had only buried the past deep inside, never finding a way to release it.

At twenty-seven, Megan Sullivan was still trapped.

Until this moment of hysteria.

She collapsed against Ethan's shoulder, sobbing like a wounded animal.

"Megan… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Feeling his shoulder grow damp, Ethan's heart twisted. Tears fell without restraint.

The highest form of love is heartache—or perhaps, love is simply shared pain.

Half an hour later, Megan's tears had quieted, though her eyes remained red-rimmed.

Ethan lifted a hand, brushing his fingertips lightly over the damp redness at the corner of her eye.

"I'm sorry," he said with a pale smile. "I said I wanted to make things right, and yet I still made you cry."

Megan shook her head, exhaustion heavy in her voice. "Ethan, I'm tired. I don't want to be tied to you anymore. It makes me sick. After today, let's never see each other again. Just… let it end here."

Ethan froze.

The word sick turned his face ashen.

He hadn't expected Megan's first words after calming down to be pushing him away.

Nor had he expected her to be so harsh.

"Megan… is there really no chance left for us?"

He clung to that last sliver of hope, searching her face for any trace of reluctance—any flicker of pity.

But there was none.

When Megan met his gaze, all he saw was weariness. Disgust.

"There were so many times I almost died," she said bitterly. "I thought… when I got out, you'd feel something. Even just a little—regret, sympathy, anything. I didn't need you to uncover the truth. I just wanted you not to treat me like the Montgomerys did."

Her laugh was hollow. "But you didn't."

The words drenched Ethan in ice water.

His body went cold. His heart froze.

She had hoped for so much from him.

And what had he given her?

"Ethan, I'm begging you. Just let me go."

Megan looked at him—fragile, helpless.

Remembering her agony moments ago, Ethan nodded. The word came out strained.

"Okay."

He agreed.

Before leaving, he stared at her—long and deep, as if memorizing every detail of her face.

Megan.

If my presence only brings you pain… then I'll disappear from your world.