Chapter 1 Do You Want Me

Whitney Spencer was on her way to deliver some documents to the CEO's office when she got a call from the bridal shop. "Ms. Spencer, the wedding dress you tried on last time has been altered. You can come in to try it again." "Alright." After hanging up the phone, Whitney knocked twice on the CEO's door. She pushed it open, only to find that Damian Howard wasn't there. He wasn't there the last time she tried on dresses either. She had hoped he could join her this time, but it seemed he was busy again. It was almost time to head home, so Whitney decided to go to the bridal shop on her own. The shop was housed in a vintage building, exuding a unique artistic vibe. This was one of the top bridal shops in Seabourke. As soon as the staff members saw Whitney get out of the car, they greeted her with respect. After all, they were well aware that she was the future bride of the heir to the Howard family in Seabourke. "Your dress is in the fitting room at the back, Ms. Spencer." Noticing the staff members were about to personally escort her, Whitney smiled politely. "I can go by myself." The curved hallway was lined with beautifully crafted wedding dresses. As she walked, she admired the exquisite designs. The soft carpet almost swallowed up the sound of her footsteps. Suddenly, familiar voices drifted from the fitting room ahead. "Enough. Don't make a fuss." "I'm not making a fuss! I just want to attend your wedding and be a bridesmaid. Why is that so wrong?" The man's voice was deep and commanding while the woman's response was full of frustration. Whitney's heart skipped a beat. Her steps grew heavier as she slowly moved toward the door of the fitting room. The door wasn't fully closed. Through the narrow crack, she couldn't see much, but the voices were growing clearer. "You can't," the man said. "Why? I just want to be a little closer to you for one last time…" "Because if you come, I won't be able to resist running away from the wedding." The man seemed to relent as he continued, "You love shopping, right? Go to Croydon for a few days. Buy whatever you want with my card. I'll come look for you once the wedding is over." "Just what am I to you? Your niece? Or your secret lover? Just let me go..." The woman's voice broke into sobs. The man sounded helpless but also somewhat anxious. "Didn't I tell you before? Status doesn't matter. What matters is the heart. Don't you know who mine belongs to?" The room fell silent for a few seconds. "Can't you just not get married?" The woman's voice softened as well. "Stop asking silly questions. You just need to trust that I'm doing this for our future," the man responded. As Whitney listened to their conversation, her blood seemed to rush to her head, as if a dam had broken and all her emotions flooded through her at once. The two voices she heard belonged to Damian Howard, the man she was set to marry in a month, and Rachel Yanes, his niece in name. Rachel was adopted by Damian's grandfather, Elijah Howard, as his great-granddaughter. The man Whitney had loved for eight years, the one who had always been so kind and attentive to her, was cheating on her. At that moment, her world seemed to lose all its color. Just then, from the fitting room came more rustling sounds, along with some intimate moans. Whitney bit her lip, trying to hold back the sobs that threatened to escape. Her vision blurred with tears. She struggled to move her legs, which felt heavy, as she hurriedly left the shop. The sky had darkened, and the streetlights flickered on. The streets were filled with people, all of them brushing past her. Couples off work passed by, their faces glowing with happiness. To Whitney, it was blinding. It was like a cruel reminder that her love life was nothing but a joke. Because of the relationship between their families, Whitney and Damian had known each other since they were children. He was four years older than her, and she had always followed him around. Damian never minded and always protected her. He even scolded those who bullied her. Looking back now, she remembered how he had always been very attentive to Rachel too. As they grew older, Damian became more handsome and mature. His elegant and poised demeanor became more apparent. Whitney secretly began to fall in love with him. When she turned 20, Elijah arranged a marriage between her and Damian. Whitney got what she had always wanted, and Damian pampered and cared for her in return. He even made her his secretary so that they could see each other every day. But now, on the eve of her most important moment, she overheard those words. The sounds of lively music and flickering neon lights drew her attention. When she looked up, she realized she had walked to the entrance of Blue Night Bar. She paused for a moment, then stepped inside. The bartender brought her the tequila shots she'd ordered. Whitney rarely drank, but now, she was downing one glass after another. This wasn't Whitney's first time at Blue Night Bar. The last time she was here was with Damian for one of his friends' birthday parties. Everyone had teased them into doing a cross-arms toast. Damian smiled and stopped them, claiming she couldn't drink and didn't want to scare her. Now, she realized it wasn't out of concern for her but because he didn't want to do a cross-arms toast with her. Whitney held the glass in her hand, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. Before she knew it, tears welled up in her eyes. As she slowly drank, her dazed gaze happened to fall on a man sitting in the corner. Even in the dim light, his fine features stood out. Behind silver-framed glasses, his eyes were dark and deep like an abyss. His navy blue suit highlighted his tall, lean frame. For reasons she couldn't explain, Whitney stood up and walked toward him. She tried to steady her uncoordinated steps as she approached him. With a slur in her voice, she asked, "Do you want me?" Damian had never touched her. She had always believed it was because he loved her and wanted to save their first night for the most important moment. But now, she realized how naive she had been. Well, if Damian could keep a mistress, why couldn't she sleep with a hot stranger? The man looked up and stared coldly into her eyes without a word. Noticing his silence, the tipsy Whitney took ten hundred-dollar bills from her bag and stuffed them into his hand. "You won't lose out." The man finally asked, "How do you know for sure?" His voice was deep and pleasant. Whitney's eyes, already clouded with tears, filled with a trace of disappointment. "Are you not interested in me too?" She wondered just how much of a failure she was. Damian didn't love her, and now, this stranger didn't want her. She turned away. Just as Whitney took a step, the man suddenly stood up. His tall frame seemed even more striking in the dim lighting. He grabbed her wrist. "Are you sure about this?" His unexpected movement caught her off guard. "What's wrong? You're backing out now?" The man put on a half-smile.