Seven Years Unchosen

According to the rules of the wealthy Ashford family, the heir Lucas Ashford's fiance must be determined through a blind selection at the family gala.

I was deeply in love with Lucas. I went to great lengths to get my name into his selection box.

But for seven years in a row, he drew nothing but blank slips.

Until just before the eighth-year gala began.

I overheard his mother questioning him:

"Lucas, don't you really like Serena? Why have you been swapping out the slips with her name for blank ones for seven years straight?"

"Doesn't it hurt you to watch her cry in disappointment every year?"

Lucas chuckled softly.

"Of course it hurts. But Bianca just got back from abroad. She's emotionally unstable. I promised to stay by her side through her treatment for seven years."

"Besides, that fool won't marry anyone but me. Next year, I'll definitely give her a grand proposal."

With that, he tossed the slip bearing my name into the shredder.

And in that instant, I let go too.

After all, my grandfather had said that if I wasn't chosen again this year, he would arrange a different match for me.

"The sound of the shredder is definitely more pleasant than your crying."

Lucas adjusted his cuffs and casually pushed open the lounge door.

Outside, the lights blazed and elegant guests mingled.

This was the eighth bride-selection gala hosted by the wealthy Ashford family.

And my last chance.

He didn't even glance at me standing in the shadowed corner.

He walked straight toward Bianca, who was surrounded by a group of socialites.

"Lucas!" Bianca crashed into his arms like a startled fawn, sobbing:

"They're saying I don't belong here. They're calling me a homewrecker who's ruining your relationship with Serena..."

Lucas frowned deeply. His sharp gaze swept across the room, finally landing on the gossiping socialites.

"Who dares say she doesn't belong? Bianca is my most important guest. Anyone who upsets her upsets me."

The room fell silent.

Those socialites turned pale and looked to me for help as I stepped out.

After all, for the past seven years, I had been Lucas Ashford's girlfriend in name.

Aside from that strange "blind selection" quirk of his.

He gave me everything I asked for.

Everyone expected me to march over and slap Bianca.

Or to confront him with tears in my eyes like I had the past seven years, demanding to know why he was protecting another woman.

But this time, I simply smoothed my dress calmly.

I picked up a glass of champagne from a waiter's tray and took a small sip.

"Serena, aren't you going to do something?" someone whispered.

I smiled.

"Mr. Ashford is playing hero. Why would I interfere? Besides, I'm curious to see if my name is actually in this year's selection box."

Lucas stiffened. He instinctively turned to look at me.

He clearly hadn't expected this reaction.

In the past, I would have been crying and demanding that Bianca leave.

But today.

I was calm. Like an outsider.

Irritation flickered in his eyes. He released Bianca and strode toward me.

"Serena, what kind of tantrum are you throwing now? Bianca just got back. She's not well. She can't handle being upset. Can't you be more understanding?"

Understanding?

I looked at this man I had loved for over a decade.

And suddenly felt like I didn't know him at all.

I had hidden my sharp edges to match his tastes. I learned to cook for him.

To get my name into that damned box.

I bribed the butler. I won over his mother. I schemed and plotted.

And for what?

For my heart to be shredded to pieces in that machine.

"Lucas."

I set down my glass.

"I'm not throwing a tantrum. I just think you're right. Miss Whitmore is delicate. She really does need someone to take good care of her during her treatment."

Lucas froze.

He stared into my eyes, searching for any trace of jealousy or spite.

But there was nothing.

He reached for my wrist.

"Good. After tonight, next year"

"There is no next year." I cut him off and stepped aside to avoid his touch.

"My grandfather said that if my name isn't in the box again this time, we're done."

"Done?"

Lucas scoffed.

"Serena, how many times are you going to play this hard-to-get game? Last year you said you were going to study abroad, but you called me crying at the airport. The year before, you said you wanted to break off the engagement, but you stood in the rain all night and got a fever. Can you really leave me?"

His tone dripped with condescending pity.

Because in his eyes.

I was his shadow.

And how could a shadow ever leave the light?

Bianca covered her mouth and giggled, her eyes full of provocation.

"Serena, I know you feel wronged. But if Lucas really breaks up with you, who would want you? You'd become a laughingstock."

She was right. For Lucas, I had turned myself into a joke.

I looked at Bianca's fake sympathetic face.

And suddenly remembered what I had heard at the lounge door

"Besides, that fool won't marry anyone but me."

So in their eyes.

My devotion was stupidity.

My persistence was pathetic.

"You worry too much, Miss Whitmore." I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and smiled graciously.

"My family is wealthy too. The line of men who want to marry me stretches all the way to France. But you, Miss Whitmore..."

My gaze dropped to her arm, tightly wrapped around Lucas's.

"I heard you spent seven years abroad getting treatment. But now that you're back, you still seem so unsteady on your feet. Can't even stand without support?"

"Should I call an ambulance so you can get checked out at the hospital?"

"You!" Bianca's face twisted. She trembled with rage.

Tears came on command, streaming down her cheeks.

"Lucas, look at her..."

Lucas's expression darkened.

"Serena! That's enough! Apologize to Bianca!"

"Apologize?" I raised an eyebrow. "Lucas, have you forgotten? I'm your girlfriend. What's wrong with me putting an outsider who doesn't know her place back in line?"

The guests began whispering among themselves.

Lucas's mother rushed over.

Seeing the scene, she frowned deeply.

"Stop making a scene! This is embarrassing!"

She glared at Lucas, then looked at me.

Her expression was complicated.

"Serena, don't let irrelevant people ruin what matters."

Mrs. Ashford genuinely cared for me. She truly wanted me to marry into the family.

Too bad her precious son had destroyed everything with his own hands.

Lucas took a deep breath, suppressing his anger.

He wrapped his arm around Bianca's shoulders and looked at me coldly.

"Fine. If you want to play this game, let's play. I want to see if you can still act so smug when I pull out a blank slip."

With that, he turned and walked toward the platform in the center of the hall.

There, a beautifully crafted wooden box waited.

I watched his retreating figure as my gaze turned cold.

The box contained one hundred slips of paper.

Only one was supposed to bear Lucas Ashford's name.

If I drew it, we would be engaged on the spot.

If not, I'd have to wait another year.

Every time, I reached in full of hope.

Every time, I pulled out a blank slip.

I thought I was just unlucky. I thought fate was testing our love.

It wasn't until today that I learned the truth. There had never been a single slip with Lucas's name on it.

"Serena, go ahead."

Mrs. Ashford stood below the stage, watching me encouragingly.

"This year, you'll definitely draw it."

I lifted my dress and climbed the steps one by one.

Lucas stood beside the box.

The way he looked at me was like watching an unreasonable child.

"Serena."

He lowered his voice.

"If you apologize to Bianca right now, I guarantee you'll draw my name next year. Or we don't even have to wait that long. Just behave yourself and stop targeting Bianca. I might consider ending this game early."

Game?!

In his eyes, seven years of torment, my youth, my dignityall of it was just a game he could end whenever he pleased.

I stopped walking and stood across from him.

We were only inches apart, but our hearts were worlds away.

"Lucas."

I looked into his eyes and asked softly.

"Do you really think I can't live without you?"

Lucas paused, then let out a mocking laugh.

"What else? Who else could put up with your temper? Who else is worthy of the Sinclair family besides the Ashfords? Serena, accept your fate. You were destined to be mine."

He was too confident.

He thought he had my weakness in his grip, so he could trample over my boundaries however he wanted.

I lowered my gaze.

"Is that so? Then let's see who really needs to accept their fate."

I took a deep breath and reached into that dark box.

The room went silent.

Bianca stood at the front of the crowd, a victor's smile on her lips.

She knew the box was full of blank slips.

She was waiting to watch me humiliate myself and burst into tears.

Lucas didn't even bother watching. He looked elsewhere.

As if he already knew how this would end.

I closed my eyes. My fingers searched the bottom of the box.

Finally, my fingertips touched a slip that felt slightly different.

It was the one I'd had someone slip in during the chaos before the event.

I pulled out that slip.

"Lucas." I held it up. "Looks like your guarantee just became worthless."

Lucas's casual expression froze.

He instinctively looked at the slip in my hand.

Confusion flickered in his eyes.

Impossible.

He had personally replaced every slip with his name with a blank one.

Just to be safe, he had even checked the box right before the gala began.

There was no way any slip had writing on it.

"Serena, who are you trying to fool with a blank piece of paper?"

He reached out to snatch it from me.

"We'll know if it's blank once I show everyone, won't we?" I dodged his hand.

I looked down at my grandfather below the stage.

"Grandfather, could you come read this for me? Tell everyone whose name is on it."

Grandfather made his way up the stage with his cane, his steps unsteady. He took the slip from my hand.

Then he burst into hearty laughter.

"Wonderful! Wonderful! Wonderful!"

Lucas's unease grew. He threw decorum aside and rushed forward to see.

"Grandfather, let me see!"

But Grandfather quickly tucked the slip away. He turned to face the hundreds of guests below.

His voice boomed with authority:

"According to the Sinclair-Ashford family rules! On her eighth attempt, Serena has successfully drawn her future husband's name!"

The crowd erupted.

Mrs. Ashford was moved to tears.

Bianca's smile froze. Her nails dug into her palms.

Lucas looked like he'd been struck by lightning.

"Impossible!" he shouted.

"The box was full of"

He caught himself before finishing.

He couldn't say it. To say it would be admitting he had cheated.

Admitting he had been making a fool of Serena for years.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

"Grandfather, you must have made a mistake. How is this possible?"

"How is it not possible?"

I took the slip from Grandfather's hand and held it up for everyone to see.

The name written on it:

**Ethan Carter.**

The color drained from Lucas's face. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

"Ethan Carter?! Impossible! How could his name be in there?! My box should only have MY name!"

I watched him lose control. It was almost laughable.

"Lucas. The rules only say the blind selection determines the groom. They never said the box could only contain your name."

I turned to look at the corner of the room.

At the man who had stood silent all this time, tall and straight as a pine.

"Mr. Carter. Since fate has decided. Would you be willing to marry me?"