“Ms. Moor, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so cruel and malicious as to hurt you and I definitely shouldn’t have ruined your special day. I’m truly sorry.”
With trembling stiffness, I turned my head, my bloodshot eyes locking onto Gabriel.
“Now... can I have the photo back?”
The next moment, flames erupted, the photo consumed in seconds by the hungry fire, reduced to nothing but ash.
A wave of anguish surged through me. Furious and despairing, I lunged toward Gabriel’s feet, pounding at him with all my strength, my voice cracking with rage.
“Gabriel, you bastard! I apologized, I bowed—so why would you still burn my Grandma’s photo? Have you forgotten how kind she was to you? How could you?”
For a moment, Gabriel’s gaze wavered, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. But just as quickly, he stepped back, leaving me clawing at nothing but air.
He ignored my words entirely, a smirk tugging at his lips as he spoke, his tone casual yet sharp.
“Nora, didn’t I warn you? Stop spreading ridiculous lies about marrying my uncle.”
“At this point, you still think you can worm your way into my life.
“Too bad—out of all the lowly paths you could have taken, you had to set your sights on the head of the Prince Family.
“Do you even know who my uncle is? He’s a powerhouse in both business and politics. Do you really think someone like you, a convict, is worthy of associating with him? Let me make this clear, Nora: my uncle despises psycophatic criminals more than anyone else.”
The thread of tension in my mind snapped in that instant.
I never expected Gabriel to think of me as the kind of person who would stop at nothing to climb the ladder.
Three years ago, on New Year’s Eve, he had patted my head, praising me as a woman who was righteous and unafraid to love or hate.
Three years may not seem long, but that time span could really change a person’s heart completely. It didn't seem that long, but it was enough for him to bring me shame I’d carry for life.
Biting my tongue, the sharp pain brought a fleeting clarity. I shakily removed the necklace from my neck and held it in my palm.
“Gabriel, you recognize the veil is personally commissioned and designed by your uncle. Then you should recognize my necklace as well.”
This necklace—was the one I wore the day I was released from prison, when I returned home from the Prince Family’s estate, my face covered in dirt and shame.