He Chased His First Love Through the Snow-and Lost Me Chapter 06

He Chased His First Love Through the Snow-and Lost Me Chapter 06

“Impossible,” Garett barked into the receiver, his voice tight. “Since when do you have the nerve to 

coordinate lies with Vivian?” 

The assistant didn’t dare argue. The line went dead, and a second later, an electronic receipt from the funeral home appeared–it was the official funeral arrangement receipt and the 

cemetery plot coordinates. 

Garett stared at the screen, his entire body turning to stone. He slowly raised his head, his eyes wide with disbelief as he looked at me. “Something this massive happened… and you didn’t tell me?” 

A hysterical laugh escaped my lips. “Tell you? 

How?” 

“The night before our trip, you shut off your phone, abandoned your multi–billion–dollar empire, and vanished from the face of the earth. I tore the city 

apart looking for you.” In the end, it was his 

assistant who couldn’t bear to watch my despair 

and helped me coordinate the burial. 

A flicker of genuine remorse crossed Garett’s eyes as his own actions caught up to him. “If you had 

given me a proper warning…” 

“I warned you a thousand times!” I roared, 

shattering his excuse. “Every single birthday, every 

single holiday, every single time Andy was rolled 

out of the ICU!” 

My boy had craved a father’s presence so desperately. In the beginning, Andy would manage 

to get through to his phone, and Garett would 

offer hollow promises about ‘next time‘. But later, to avoid interruptions while filming a reality TV 

special with Natasha, he blocked our numbers 

completely. 

I still remember my boy hooked up to a heavy ventilator, pointing a trembling finger at the television screen. “Mommy… is that daddy?” 

I had looked at the guest star on the screen, unable to break my son’s heart by telling him he had mistaken a stranger for his father. Andy had only seen Garett a handful of times since his birth; 

he didn’t even remember what his own father 

looked like. 

Garett lowered his gaze, the weight of guilt settling heavily on his shoulders. “I thought… I thought Andy was like your mother, weaponizing a fake illness just to drag me back to the house.” 

Years ago, when my mother was critical, she 

would call Garett to force him home to spend time 

with me. He assumed my mother was calculating, 

and by extension, he believed I was using my son 

as a biological shield to trap him. 

When Andy first showed symptoms, the local clinic couldn’t determine the cause, and I had 

managed to pull Garett home. He had looked at 

the ambiguous medical note and declared that I 

was using a child to fabricate a crisis. From that 

day on, no matter how many times I reached out, 

he blocked it out as white noise. 

Now, face–to–face with the digital death certificate, he was grasping at straws. “But he looked 

completely fine the last time I saw him…” 

“The last time?” I choked out, a mixture of tears 

and laughter spilling over. “Garett, stop making a complete joke of yourself. Do you even know 

when you last saw him? It was nearly two full 

years ago!” 

“He had just learned how to take his first steps. Do you even remember the color of his eyes?” 

Garett’s lips pressed into a tight line, completely entirely stripped of his defense. Deep, suffocating remorse finally breached his armor. He took a hesitant step toward me, raising his hand to wipe 

away my tears. “Vivian… about this… I am deeply 

sorry.” 

I violently slapped his hand away. 

Deeply sorry? My boy’s entire existence was 

erased, and all it earned from the great billionaire 

was a polite apology? I stared into the face of the 

man I had loved for over a decade, trying to see 

what kind of hollow stone rested inside his chest. 

I pushed past him. “Save your breath, Mr. Vance. A 

peasant like me could never survive the weight of 

your grand apologies.” 

Seeing the absolute deadness in my expression, a 

sudden wave of panic washed over Garett. He had 

a terrifying premonition that the woman who had 

chased him for ten years was slipping through his fingers forever. 

“Vivian, what’s done is done! We can’t bring him 

back from the dead, but I can compensate you,” he 

rushed out, his voice cracking with desperation. “If a wedding is what you want, we can drive to the registry tomorrow and sign the papers. Will that make it right?” 

He actually believed I was holding out for a settlement. He thought my son’s life could be 

traded for a marriage certificate. 

“No need, Garett. We are completely through.” 

My refusal finally broke his composure, and he barked out in frustration, “Vivian, do you have to be 

this stubborn? Isn’t this exact title what you’ve 

been screaming for your entire life?!”