The Ring That Sank, The Love That Drowned Chapter 10
My assistant later told me Spencer locked the
useless key and the old silver bracelet together in
his safe.
There was an old sketch in there too.
Back in college, I had casually sketched a tie.
design for him.
He later sent the tie to one of Vivian’s art
exhibitions, where it was used as part of the
opening–night decor.
He kept everything.
And somehow, he had still been willing to give
everything away to her.
I didn’t ask about it.
By then, I was in Paris.
The lights over the runway were bright as daylight.
The designer personally brought me the
show–closing couture gown.
“Ms. Sinclair, this is the only one of its kind this
season. We held it exclusively for you.”
I ran my fingers over the skirt.
No discarded lace.
No leftover strap.
No scraps handed down from someone else.
My phone buzzed.
Spencer had sent me a photo.
The diamond ring in the picture had lost its shine
after spending so long underwater.
Spencer: [Natalie, I got the ring back.]
A few seconds later, another message appeared.
Spencer: [I know I can’t make up for what I did. But I still want to ask–could you look back at me, just once?]
I stared at the screen for a long time.
I wasn’t moved.
It only felt absurd.
In my previous life, Spencer had been dying from a
terminal illness when he clutched my hand and
asked whether I still resented him.
I never answered.
In this life, he was alive and well, and he had finally
learned to ask whether I was hurt, whether I was
cold, whether I still resented him.
But I no longer wanted to answer.
Me: [Spencer, pulling a ring out of the lake doesn’t make it new again.]
He never replied.
After I returned home, I saw him outside Sinclair
Group.
He had lost a lot of weight, and his suit hung.
loosely on him.
He was carrying a cup of hot lemon tea.
“Your knees ache when you’ve been out in the
cold.”
I took the tea from him and dropped it straight into
the trash.
The color drained from his face.
“Natalie…”
“Mr. Vaughn, spare me your too–late concern.”
He stood in the rain, his eyes red.
“I know I have no right to ask you to forgive me.”
“Good. At least you know that.”
Reid’s car was waiting a short distance away.
His driver opened the door for me.
Spencer suddenly asked, “Are you going to marry
him?”
I didn’t turn around.
“That’s none of your business.”
Later, Vivian was sued over multiple acts of
business fraud and malicious defamation and
disappeared from public life entirely.
Vaughn Group’s planned overseas listing fell
through.
The Vaughn matriarch fell ill and never again
asked me to return.
Every year on the anniversary of the proposal gala, Spencer spent the entire night standing beside the
lake.
Someone once asked who he was waiting for.
He said, “For the woman I pushed under with my
own hands–and who will never come back to
shore for me again.”
When I heard those words, I was in Paris signing
the next season’s partnership agreement.
Snow was falling outside.
Reid was waiting by the entrance with an
umbrella.
“Cold?”
I shook my head.
He hadn’t given his coat to someone else first.
And he didn’t make me stand in the cold to prove
anything.
Snow settled softly against the umbrella, quiet as
a long–overdue new beginning.
Carrying the couture gown that belonged to me
alone, I walked toward the lights.
This time, I didn’t have to make do with scraps of
dignity left over after someone else had been
favored first.