My boyfriend was someone I found on the streets—lost, down on his luck, and pitiful, much like an abandoned dog. While I struggled with my heart condition, working hard just to make ends meet, he lived a carefree life.
But things changed one day when I was working part-time as a waitress in a five-star hotel. There, standing in a high-end suit, was Ezail, staring at me in disbelief.
“Ezail, aren’t you supposed to be at home?” I asked, glancing at his neatly pressed suit. He fit right in with the luxury of the hotel, while I stood there in a shabby uniform, stained with red wine from a difficult customer earlier.
Just an hour ago, he had told me to come back for dinner, and now here he was, looking like someone completely out of my reach.
“Marla, let me explain. My friend brought me here…” Ezail, clearly flustered, reached for my hand, giving it a small shake—the signal we used when asking for forgiveness. But this time, after the initial shock, I pulled away. The sight of him in the suit I’d promised to buy him, wearing the tie I’d saved up for, was a slap in the face.
“Friend? Didn’t you say you had amnesia? Where did all these friends come from?” I questioned, my heart sinking as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. The truth was obvious—he had been lying to me all along.
“Mr. Ford, was faking amnesia fun for you? Did watching me run in circles around you make you proud? Should I give you an Oscar?” I let out a bitter laugh. The boy I had picked up from the streets, the one who played innocent in front of me, was actually the heir to the powerful Ford family.
“To you, I must have been the biggest fool” As I spoke, tears blurred my vision.
The cruel irony was too much to bear. My phone buzzed with a delivery notification for a cake I had ordered for his birthday, which he had told me was today. I had worked extra hours and endured rude customers to celebrate his first birthday with me. But now, my efforts seemed worthless.
Whenever I came home exhausted, Ezail always made sure to leave a light on for me and set the table with food, telling me that cooking for me was his greatest joy. He claimed I was the most important person in his life.
His words felt so genuine and passionate that they moved me deeply, making me willing to sacrifice everything for him. Despite the fact that my biological parents hadn’t given me a penny, and I had to survive on leftover desserts from the hotel, I still wanted to give him the best life I could.
“I’ve always been trying to help you recover your memories, hoping to find your family and gain their approval.”
I looked at him, disbelief etched on my face.
“Ezail, do you really have no heart?”
The pain in my chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. Ezail knew about my heart condition, and seeing me like this made him panic. He knew I had no family to turn to, and even though my life was
hard, I had always prioritized him. I had bought him everything he asked for, even a LEGO set, while I survived on hotel leftovers.
He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then his tone turned cold. “Now that you know the truth, there’s no need to pretend anymore. I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of, but as for anything else… I’m sorry.”
Under the hotel lights, he looked almost pitiful, like he regretted it. He reached for my arm again, but I stepped back, letting his hand hang awkwardly in the air. I threw my waitress uniform at him. “Ezail, I was wrong about you.”
He stood there, his expensive suit stained with wine, while a girl looped her arm around his, playfully saying, “Ezail, didn’t I tell you to wait for me?”
Chapter 2Ezail’s body froze, and he hesitated as he looked at me. Then, Holley appeared from behind him, pretending to be surprised when she saw me. “Oh, Marla, you’re here too?” she said, her voice innocent, but her eyes filled with mischief.
“Didn’t Mom tell you to leave the Gregory family? What are you still doing here?”
Her words, though sweet on the surface, were full of hidden triumph. She was clearly enjoying herself.
Without missing a beat, she intertwined her fingers with Ezail’s, as if to show me he belonged to her.
“I only joked with him about pretending to be pitiful to trick you, and he actually did it!” she said with a laugh, even though Ezail’s face was tense.
Holley looked me up and down, her amusement growing. “You didn’t actually believe him, did you?” she asked, her tone mocking.
Standing together, they looked like a perfect couple, the kind anyone would admire. And I… I had been the fool, chasing after them like a dog.
The room felt cold, the hotel’s air conditioning chilling me to the bone. But it wasn’t just the temperature—it was the betrayal freezing my heart.
I glanced at Ezail one last time, my fists loosening as I gave up on finding an answer.
The truth was already clear. To people like them, I was nothing more than a toy, someone to entertain them when they were bored.
Holley’s voice turned sharp.
“Even if you’re part of the Gregory family now, you’re still nothing more than a servant’s child. You’re uncultured, unworthy.”
“Mom and Dad love me more. I’m the real treasure of the Gregory family.”
Even though I had been taken back by my biological parents, I was only a tool for their plans, nothing more. Holley, the daughter they had raised, was the one they truly cherished.
They never gave me a penny, and Holley keeping Ezail around only made things worse for me.
She raised her hand, showing off a flashy ring on her finger, her eyes daring me to react.
“We’re getting married soon. Try not to be too jealous, sis.”
I had heard enough. I turned to leave, but Holley’s voice stopped me again.
“How is Margarette these days?” she asked with a twisted smile. “I bet she’s suffering.”
I froze, my back to her. Margarette, my adoptive mother, was also Holley’s biological mother.
“She’s dead,” I said quietly, my voice strained.
“She passed away three years ago.”
I didn’t look back as I left. The last thing I wanted was to talk about Margarette.
Despite her gentle name, Margarette had been anything but kind. She controlled every part of my life—forcing me to practice piano, attend dance lessons, and keep up with school. If I slipped up, I was locked away in a dark room.
When I found out she wasn’t my real mother, my resentment only grew.
I hated her for stealing my childhood, for shaping my life into something I didn’t want. She never showed me the love I craved, never gave me the praise I needed.
Meanwhile, Holley, her real daughter, had lived freely, enjoying the life I had been denied.
Furious, I stormed back into the hotel. I ignored Holley’s smug look and Ezail’s hesitant expression.
“Marla…” I heard him call, but I pretended not to hear.
I grabbed a bottle of red wine from the counter and smashed it on the floor, kicking over the champagne glasses next to it.
As the sound of breaking glass filled the room, I shouted,
“You’re the heir to the Ford family, right? And you, Holley, are the precious daughter of the Gregory family, aren’t you?”
“Was it fun pretending to have amnesia? Did you enjoy playing with my feelings?”
“You two deserve each other—you’re both scum!”
With tears streaming down my face, I pointed at them, my voice breaking.
“You promised to take care of me, didn’t you? Well, pay up! Now!”
I wiped my face, smirked through the tears,I raised my middle finger at them both before slamming the door behind me.
Chapter 3When I returned to my small rental apartment, the first thing I saw was the birthday cake I had ordered sitting by the door. I had saved up to buy it, but now, the sight of it only filled me with regret. So, I gave it to the little girl who lived next door.
Her sweet smile reminded me of the times I used to dream about having a daughter with Ezail. But those dreams were nothing more than illusions—like a flower reflected in a mirror or the moon on the surface of the water—beautiful, but untouchable.
I stepped inside the apartment, which was filled with memories of Ezail and me. Everything was a painful reminder—the matching couple pajamas, the towels, the walls covered in photos of us together. I could almost picture him standing in the kitchen, wearing soft loungewear as he cooked soup for me, his smile warm and gentle. That image of him, so different from the cold man in the black suit, was like a dagger to my heart.
The memories felt too real, each one cutting deeper than the last.
Without hesitating, I called a junk collector and sold everything. I didn’t leave a single thing behind. Even if it was just a small amount, I wanted to get back whatever I could. When Ezail returned for his belongings, he would find nothing but an empty room.
When he finally came back, he looked around in disbelief. "Marla, you..."
Without lifting my eyes, I held my cat in my arms and calmly said, "I thought Mr. Ford wouldn’t care about these things, so I sold them all."
For a long time, I had doubted Ezail’s feelings for me. But over time, his affection seemed to fill the emptiness inside me, and I started to trust him. Somewhere along the way, I ended up loving him more than he ever loved me.
But now, seeing him for who he truly was, I knew I had to let him go.
“If you want your things, go to the junkyard and look for them there,” I added, my voice cold.
Ezail lowered his head and reached out to hold my hand, but I quickly pulled away.
“Marla,” he said softly, “I may have lied to you, but my feelings were real.”
I almost laughed. How had I not seen how shameless he could be? He hid his lies behind sweet words and pretended to be pitiful, thinking I’d fall for it again even after learning the truth.
But I wasn’t that naive anymore.
Ignoring his sad expression, I pushed him toward the door. In the process, I accidentally kicked over a box by the entrance, spilling its contents onto the floor.
A photo album fell open, and Ezail’s eyes widened as he stared at a picture inside. "This is... you?" he asked, shocked.
I glanced at the photo—a young girl with a black birthmark covering part of her face, crying as she practiced dancing. Memories of my painful childhood flooded back, and I snapped, “It’s none of your business. Get out!
I slammed the door shut, but my gaze drifted back to the photo on the floor. The back of the picture was covered with neat, delicate handwriting. It was Margarette’s handwriting—so familiar, so unexpected.
“Marla rolled over for the first time today! Her smile is so beautiful!”
“My Marla is growing up. She looks so cute learning Taekwondo with the coach.”
“Marla said she hated me today. It hurt, but I know I’ve been too hard on her. One day, she’ll learn the truth about who she really is. Without real strength, no one can survive in the dangerous world of the Gregory family.”
I couldn’t believe what I was reading. My hands shook as I turned to the last page of the album.
“Marla, Holley, my daughters, I won’t live to see you get married…”
Suddenly, the rumors I had heard came flooding back.
The head of the Gregory family, Alexander, was always surrounded by scandal. While his wife, Amanda, who came from a humble background, silently endured her days. One day, a mistress confronted her, and in a fit of anger, Amanda pushed her, causing the mistress to miscarry.
In a tragic twist of fate, Amanda herself was pregnant at the time. From then on, he seemed to settle down, but the damage was already done.
What they didn’t know was that when she gave birth, the very same mistress was there, filled with resentment. The mistress secretly swapped the babies, replacing the Gregory family’s only daughter with the maid’s child, born on the same day.
Margarette had discovered the truth but chose not to reveal it. She knew that being the Gregory family’s daughter carried power and privilege, something she wanted for her real daughter. But she couldn’t completely abandon me either. So, she worked several jobs to ensure that both Holley and I received the same education.
Gregory parents were rarely home, too busy to notice much. I remember seeing Margarette stay up late, caring for the sickly Holley more than once.
As a child, I never understood why I, her real daughter, was treated so harshly, while she smiled warmly at Holley. I resented her strictness, but now, I understood.
Running my fingers over her writing, I realized that while I had longed for a mother’s love, Margarette had always been there, watching me from a distance, documenting my every step.
“My Marla called me ‘Mom’ for the first time today! I’m so happy…”
“Marla fell down today, but I couldn’t help her. She needs to learn to stand on her own, to be strong.”
“Marla said she hates me today. I…”
A dull ache spread through my chest.
But this time, it wasn’t from anger or betrayal. It was from a deep, quiet sadness.
The hatred I had carried for so long dissolved, replaced by a grief that words couldn’t express. It was the kind of sorrow that only comes when you realize how much you’ve lost, and how much you never truly understood.