The Vanishing Heiress

Chapter 31

December 21st – Megan Sullivan's first art exhibition opened at the Capital Art Gallery.

The theme was Rainy Season.

The gallery was filled with renowned artists and critics.

Ethan Sterling stood before a massive, fiery painting of a kapok tree, dressed in a black suit.

The tree was drenched in rain.

Yet its crimson hue burned even brighter, like raging flames.

Coincidentally, the painting was titled Fire in the Rain.

"Contact Mr. Luo Yu. I want to buy this piece—name any price."

After a long silence, Ethan spoke, his voice low. His injuries hadn't fully healed, and he paused to cough between words.

His assistant, Liam, nodded and immediately stepped away to make the call.

For days, Ethan had kept his distance from Megan.

But he still sent her medicinal soups, fresh flowers, desserts, and plush toys through Liam.

At first, Megan refused them. Then, she stopped throwing them out.

The thought made Ethan's lips curve slightly.

"Ethan."

Megan had just finished speaking with a few professors when she spotted Liam.

If Liam was here, Ethan couldn't be far.

That was why she had walked all the way to this secluded corner of the gallery, where Fire in the Rain hung.

Her voice wasn't loud, but it wasn't soft either.

She knew he had heard her.

Yet Ethan didn't turn around.

Not until her footsteps drew closer—closer—

Until she stopped right beside him.

"Ethan, didn't you hear me?" Megan frowned, studying his still-pale face.

"I did." He gave a bitter smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. I'll leave now."

He turned to go.

But Megan caught his pinky finger.

She couldn't explain why she did it.

Maybe it was because of the kapok tree.

In that instant, the man whose hand she held trembled—body and soul.

"The first time we met, it was raining in the city," Ethan said softly, as if afraid to scare her away. "You were soaked, hiding under a bus stop like a stray kitten. I didn't know you were the eldest daughter of the Montgomery family. I just thought… how pitiful you looked."

"But when I got closer, and you lifted your head—your eyes were so dark and bright, full of a stubbornness I couldn't understand. I knew then you weren't some helpless creature. I asked you, Who are you? Why are you here?"

He glanced at her hand, still curled around his, and smiled.

"You said your name was Megan Sullivan, but you didn't know who you were supposed to be. Then you asked me the same. When I told you my name, you repeated Ethan Sterling—and then you started reciting To the Oak Tree by Shu Ting."

So he remembered their first meeting in such vivid detail.

Megan's long-dormant heart suddenly raced as she looked at him.

Because of fifteen-year-old her.

And eighteen-year-old Ethan.

"If I love you—

I will never be a clinging trumpet creeper,

Using your high boughs to show off my height.

I must be a kapok beside you,

Standing together as trees.

We'll share the cold tides, storms, and thunder,

We'll share the mists, hazes, and rainbows.

Seemingly apart, yet forever connected."

Why had she recited those lines back then?

Was it because of the word tree? Or because Ethan Sterling reminded her of lightning, thunder, and fire?

But now, Ethan understood—Megan was the fiery blossom, the torch of courage.

And the wounds he had dealt her were like knives, swords, and spears.

"Megan," he murmured, stepping closer. "What is true love?"

His forehead touched hers.

"I'm sorry. But I don't want to be apart from you. I want to be connected—forever."

"Please." His voice was raw.

"Give me a sign. Just… one small sign."