BABA spirituality Facebook ad: “Yearly Must-Read TOP Romance Novels”

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After the Vance Corporation went bankrupt, I abandoned everything and followed Julian Vance to Seattle. Five years passed, and he returned to the top three of the Forbes list, yet he delayed mentioning marriage. I never pushed him, believing that our shared struggles in the dark had forged an unbreakable bond. I thought our love was beyond the need for a piece of paper. Until the night before his parents' memorial, I woke up in the middle of the night and saw him light three sticks of incense facing his hometown. The dim amber light of the embers cast long, melancholy shadows across his sharp profile. "Mom, Dad, forgive your son for being unfilial and not being able to come back to see you this year because of work," he murmured softly into the quiet room. He paused, his voice softening into a tender timber I rarely heard. "But I hope you can continue to bless Ellie with good health, and wish her and me happiness for the rest of our lives." Watching this made my heart feel warm. I stood in the doorway, a soft smile gracing my lips, deeply moved by his quiet devotion. My health was poor, so in previous years, he couldn't bear to let me endure the exhausting trip and always went back alone. I had always felt guilty for not paying my respects to the family that had raised the man I loved. This year, seeing the longing in his eyes, I wanted to secretly go in his place. I booked the earliest flight to his hometown, carrying a bouquet of white lilies, hoping to surprise him with my devotion. The cemetery was quiet, veiled in a damp morning mist. I walked down the stone path, my heart full of reverence, until I finally found the grand Vance family plot. But I never expected to see his ex-fianc��e's name next to his on the tombstone, holding the title of wife. I froze. The bouquet of lilies slipped from my trembling fingers, scattering pale petals across the cold, damp earth. I blinked, praying it was a trick of the light, but the carved letters remained stark and unforgiving. Looking further down, under their names, there was actually a three-year-old son. At that moment, I felt as if I had been struck by lightning. My breath caught in my throat, and a deafening ringing filled my ears. The world tilted on its axis as the brutal truth crashed over me. It turned out that the "Ellie" he spoke of wasn't me, Elena, but Eleanor. Just as I was staring blankly at the tombstone, the elderly cemetery keeper took the initiative to approach and talk to me. "Miss, how are you related to the elder Vance couple? How come I've never seen you come to sweep the tomb before?" A simple question, yet it made my heart clench tightly in my chest. Yes, what kind of person was I? The space that should have belonged to Julian��s wife had already been neatly and squarely engraved with Eleanor��s name. Even though I was standing under the bright daylight, I felt like a lowly rat that belonged hidden in the shadows, without even a presentable identity to speak of. Holding back the bitter sourness rising from the bottom of my heart, I replied in a muffled voice, "Just a distant relative." The old man nodded in understanding. "I thought so. If you were a close relative, you should have been here three years ago when Mr. Vance brought his whole family back to erect the monument," he said, leaning casually against his broom. "You have no idea how grand the spectacle was that day. Mr. Vance personally opened the ancestral hall, invited over a hundred people to perform the rites, and had his wife hold their son to offer the first incense to the grandparents. Afterward, he hosted a grand banquet for three days to introduce his wife and child to all his friends and relatives." Every word he spoke was a dagger sinking deeper into my chest. "Mrs. Vance is very young and beautiful, just like a movie star. I even saved a photo," the old man continued cheerfully. While talking, he took out his phone and brought up a picture to show me. On the screen, Eleanor was wearing a white dress, holding a baby in swaddling clothes in her arms, smiling gently and demurely. Julian stood beside her, naturally wrapping his arm around her waist, looking down at her with a smile. Even though it was just a photo, the undisguised love and indulgence in his eyes were so vivid and intense that they instantly stung me. I had never seen such a look in his eyes. With me, he was always composed, always the stoic businessman. I thought that was just his nature, but now I knew he reserved his warmth for the woman he truly loved. My gaze shifted to the date at the bottom right corner of the photo, and my breathing suddenly stopped. November 6th, three years ago. Just the day before this date, I found out I was pregnant. I remembered that day so clearly. I was ecstatic, fully believing that once Julian knew the news, he would be moved to tears just like me, and couldn't wait to have a wedding to give the child a complete family. But the moment I told him the news, his face, which had been smiling a second before, instantly darkened. "Elena, I've told you countless times that neither marriage nor children are in my development plans for the next few years," he had said, his voice as cold as ice. "This child came at the wrong time. We won't keep it for now. We can talk about it later when the timing is more mature, okay?" Listening to his cold words, it was the first time I felt he was so unfamiliar and terrifying. In the past, no matter how difficult his requests were, as long as I saw him get angry, I would unconditionally back down. But that time, I unprecedentedly argued back. "No, I won't give up my own flesh and blood no matter what! Even if I have to raise it alone, I won't get rid of it!" I had screamed. Crying, I tried to run away, but during our struggle, I fell down the stairs. When I woke up, I was lying in the hospital. The child was gone, and Julian was not by my side. There was only a message left by him on my phone, saying he temporarily had an important overseas meeting and had to go on a business trip for a few days. I thought he really had some massive emergency to attend to, which was why he left me during my most fragile and painful time. But now I knew, he did it to take Eleanor and the child back to his hometown to honor his ancestors, telling everyone that she was his rightful wife. The moment I figured it out, my heart twisted in agony, and tears blurred my vision. I traveled back to Seattle in a daze, completely numb to the world around me. I didn't go home, but went straight to the immigration and administrative office, wanting to transfer my identity information back home and withdraw the savings I had accumulated from working all these years. Unexpectedly, after the clerk entered the information, they looked up at me with suspicion. "Miss Sterling, this local ID card you have is fake. Your registered identity has always been your overseas ID, and you've been staying here on a tourist visa all these years," the clerk said flatly. "As for this bank debit card, the account holder is not you, but a woman named Eleanor." The clerk adjusted their glasses, offering a look of mild pity. "In other words, if you want to withdraw money, you need her personal permission."

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Yearly Must-Read TOP Romance Novels