Love Ended With His Recovery

I stood by Tristan Fuller for five years when he was disabled.

But the moment he recovered, he married the woman he had always loved. The one who abandoned him when he needed her most. All for company shares.

He deceived me with a fake marriage license, promising we would have our wedding next month.

I smiled and accepted it, then flew ten thousand miles away to New Zealand.

Five years later, I returned as a ruthless investment banker to acquire his company.

In the rain, he begged me to come back.

But I held my husband's hand and walked past, leaving his wheelchair behind.

"Mr. Fuller, this is my wife. Please get out of the way."

Jane's POV

In the most upscale custom jewelry center downtown, soft music flowed through the VIP room.

Tristan Fuller and I sat side by side on the velvet sofa.

We were sharing a pair of Bluetooth earbuds, listening to a gentle love song together.

Tristan lowered his head, his long fingers holding a brilliant diamond ring as he gently slipped it onto my ring finger.

"Perfect fit."

He looked at my hand, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Do you like it?"

He was usually aloof, but now his eyes were brimming with adoration.

I looked up at him, about to nod, when an abrupt phone ring shattered the warm atmosphere.

Tristan frowned slightly and pulled out his phone, glancing at the screen.

One name appeared on the screen: Gabriel. Tristan's closest friend.

Tristan removed the left earbud and pressed the answer button.

To keep the store employees from hearing the conversation, he habitually switched the audio to Bluetooth mode.

But he forgot that the other earbud was still firmly in my right ear.

"Tristan, have you lost your mind?!"

Gabriel's voice, barely containing his fury, came through the earbud loud and clear.

Tristan's expression didn't change. He spoke calmly into the phone.

"I'm helping Jane pick out her wedding ring. What's wrong?"

A sharp intake of breath came from the other end. After a few seconds, Gabriel finally exploded.

"You're still helping her pick out a wedding ring? Didn't you just marry Sarah this morning?!"

"What the hell are you thinking! When you had that car accident and became disabled, Sarah despised you for being a cripple and immediately went abroad with someone else. Now, to get that 15% of shares from the Morrison family, you actually went through with a marriage alliance with her?!"

Every word from Gabriel hit me like a punch to the gut.

The blood drained from my face. I felt like I'd been plunged into ice water.

In my right ear, Gabriel's interrogation continued, but Tristan sitting beside me remained perfectly composed.

He even reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, then spoke lightly into the phone.

"Tomorrow is Fuller Group's shareholder meeting. I must secure the Morrison family shares to solidify my position as CEO. The title of Mrs. Fuller is just a bargaining chip I'm using to trade for those shares."

"What about Jane!"

Gabriel roared through the phone.

"During those five years you were disabled, who massaged your legs day and night? Who stayed with you through that hellish rehabilitation? She loved you enough to give her life for you, and for some shares, you give the legal wife position to someone else?!"

Tristan's expression remained unchanged despite Gabriel's fury.

"Jane wants my love, not a piece of paper. I'll keep it from her. She'll never know about this."

"How long can you hide it? You can't keep something like this a secret forever! Jane is supposed to have a wedding with you next month!"

A flash of irritation crossed Tristan's eyes, and his tone grew heavier.

"Keep this quiet. No one is allowed to say anything about my marriage to Sarah. I'll still give Jane that grand wedding next month. I'll have someone make a fake marriage certificate for her. As long as she stays by my side, I can give her everything except the title."

After saying this, he hung up directly.

A busy signal came through the earbud.

My whole body trembled, nausea churning in my stomach.

I bit my lower lip hard, forcibly suppressing the urge to retch.

Tristan put away his phone and was about to turn to speak to me when the screen lit up again.

It was the special notification tone for priority messages.

Tristan paused, clicked it open, and glanced at it.

Just one glance, and the irritation in his eyes instantly vanished, replaced by barely concealed anxiety.

He stood up and methodically adjusted the cuffs of his suit.

"Jane, there's an emergency meeting at the company. I need to go right away. Pick out the ring you like, charge it directly to my card, then take a cab home, okay?"

His tone was soft and gentle, like the perfect fianc.

I looked at this well-dressed man before me and said nothing, only nodding woodenly.

Tristan didn't even wait for me to remove the ring. He turned and pulled open the VIP room door, striding away.

The moment the door closed, I collapsed against the sofa back.

Tears fell without warning.

Tristan didn't know that his supposedly perfect act had been completely betrayed by that Bluetooth earbud forgotten in my ear.

Every word, every sentence-like poison-tipped knives, shredding my heart into bloody pieces.

All those memories I'd deliberately buried deep in my heart were now dredged up.

Tristan was a lofty heir to a wealthy family, while I was merely the daughter of the Fuller family driver.

That year, I followed my father into the Fuller mansion and immediately saw Tristan sitting in a wheelchair, gloomy and irritable.

He'd been in a car accident and lost all feeling in his legs. Doctors had determined he would spend his life in a wheelchair.

And his childhood fiance Sarah, the day after learning this news, unilaterally announced the engagement was off and flew abroad.

The Fuller family had no shortage of healthy heirs. The disabled Tristan was quickly marginalized, thrown into a villa on the city outskirts to fend for himself.

I took the initiative to ask my father and became the caregiver who looked after him at the villa.

For those five years, his temper was explosive. He smashed things, went on hunger strikes, even self-harmed.

I just silently followed behind him, cleaning up the wreckage.

When he knocked over hot soup onto the back of my hand, causing large blisters, I only endured the pain and continued massaging his atrophying muscles.

Later, I heard about a retired neurological authority abroad. I ran to the person's door and begged in the snow for a full day and night, securing the chance for Tristan to have surgery.

The surgery was successful. Tristan stood up again.

He seized control of Fuller Group with ruthless tactics, becoming the most influential power player in their circle.

I was the one who accompanied him through those five darkest years. I was the one who stayed with him through rehabilitation sessions where he broke out in cold sweats from pain. I was the one who kissed him, embraced him, and shared his bed.

But I never imagined that the first thing he would do after reaching the top was to give the title of wife to Sarah the woman who had abandoned him. All to secure his power.

He even planned to trap me with a grand wedding and a fake marriage certificate, keeping me as his dirty little secret.

Jane's POV

I don't know how I walked out of the jewelry store.

Outside, it had started raining. The autumn rain was freezing, cold enough to chill me to the bone.

I didn't bring an umbrella or call a car. I just walked aimlessly through the streets.

Rain washed over my face. I couldn't tell if what was on my face was tears or rainwater.

By the time I returned to our shared penthouse, the sky had gone completely dark.

The house was empty, with no lights on.

I didn't even change my clothes. I just curled up in the corner of the sofa.

I don't know how much time passed before I heard the sound of the password lock at the entrance.

The door opened, and the living room lights suddenly blazed on, making me close my eyes.

Tristan walked in carrying a chill.

Seeing me soaked through and huddled on the sofa, he froze for a moment, then quickly walked over, his brows knitted together.

"How did you end up like this? Why didn't you call me after getting caught in the rain?"

His tone carried reproach, but his movements were gentle as he grabbed a nearby towel and carefully dried my wet hair.

As he drew closer, a faint cold cedar scent hit me.

But I still keenly caught a trace of sweet bluebell fragrance mixed in.

That was Sarah's favorite perfume.

My stomach churned. Suppressing the nausea, I imperceptibly shrank back.

"My phone died."

My voice was hoarse.

Tristan sighed and touched my forehead to make sure I didn't have a fever, then relaxed slightly.

"The situation at the company was too complicated. I couldn't get away. Next time something like this happens, even if your phone is dead, find someone to borrow a phone and call me, okay?"

He looked at me with eyes full of tenderness, as if I were the most precious thing in his world.

I looked at this face so close to mine and suddenly felt it was very unfamiliar.

How could this man manage to put on such a devoted act toward me right after registering his marriage with another woman?

"Okay."

I lowered my eyes.

Tristan carried me into the bathroom, personally drew a hot bath for me, and brought clean pajamas.

"Take a hot bath so you don't catch a cold. Our wedding is next month. If you get sick, it'll break my heart."

Hearing the word "wedding," my heart felt like it was being stabbed with a needle.

I nodded and closed the bathroom door.

The warm water flowed over my body but couldn't warm my cold heart.

When I came out after bathing, Tristan had changed into loungewear and was sitting on the sofa reviewing documents.

Seeing me emerge, he beckoned.

"Come here. Take your cold medicine."

I walked over and took the medicine.

Tristan set down his documents and pulled me into his arms, resting his chin on the top of my head.

"Jane, I've already had the wedding invitations printed. Check if there are any friends you want to invite and give me the list."

My fingers gripping the cup couldn't help but tighten.

"No need. I don't have many friends."

Tristan kissed my temple.

"Then I'll just invite people from my side. I want everyone to know that you, Jane, are Tristan Fuller's one and only wife."

One and only wife.

I silently repeated those words in my mind, finding them utterly ironic.

I set down the cup and, using tiredness as an excuse, returned to the bedroom.

Lying in bed, I had just picked up my fully charged phone when the apartment doorbell suddenly rang.

This late at night, who could it be?

I put on a jacket and walked to the entrance, looking through the video doorbell to see a same-city courier standing outside.

"Ms. Jane? There's an express delivery for you."

I opened the door and signed for it. It was an exquisitely packaged black velvet gift box with no sender information.

I took the box back to the bedroom and opened it. Inside was no gift, only several freshly developed Polaroid photos and a handwritten card that smelled of bluebell perfume.

I picked up the top photo.

It was a wedding photo of Tristan and Sarah.

The second showed their interlocked fingers in close-up.

On the man's wrist was the watch I'd saved half a year's salary to buy, and on Sarah's ring finger was the brilliant diamond ring that Tristan had personally tried on my finger this morning at the jewelry store.

My gaze fell on the final handwritten card.

The handwriting was elegant, exuding haughty superiority.

"Miss Jane, thank you for taking care of Tristan for me these past five years. But it's time for Cinderella to wake from her dream. The only one who can help him in his career and deserves the title of Mrs. Fuller is me."

I stared at that card for a long time.

I knew that if Tristan wanted to hide this from me, he absolutely wouldn't allow Sarah to go public.

So Sarah used this method to thrust the knife directly in front of me.

I found it somewhat amusing.

Sarah was asserting her dominance, flaunting her victory to me.

But Sarah didn't know-I no longer wanted this man.

I threw the photos and card into the trash.

If Tristan wanted to put on a show, then I'd play along.

But I didn't plan to act with him until the finale.

I pulled up a number I hadn't contacted in five years and sent a text.

"Mrs. Fuller, does your previous offer still stand? I'm willing to take that thirty million and leave Tristan forever."

Jane's POV

Less than a minute after I sent the text, the call came through.

I glanced at the tightly closed bedroom door, pressed answer, and brought the phone to my ear.

On the other end, Tristan's mother Margaret's voice carried barely concealed elation and condescending arrogance.

"You've finally come to your senses?"

"Of course the offer still stands! You're a driver's daughter. Even if Tristan protects you now, you'll never be accepted into the Fuller family."

"Tristan has already formed a marriage alliance with Sarah. The Morrison family shares are crucial to the Fullers. I absolutely will not allow you to stay by his side and get in the way."

"Tomorrow morning at ten, come to the caf in the south district. We'll sign the agreement."

"Alright."

I nodded.

After hanging up, I deleted the call record completely.

The next morning, Tristan went to the company.

I put on light makeup to cover the dark circles under my eyes and arrived at the appointment on time.

In the tea room, Margaret's well-maintained face was full of disdain.

She pulled out an already prepared agreement from her bag and pushed it in front of me.

"Sign this, and there's no going back. You'll get fifteen million upfront. The rest will be wired once you're gone for good."

Margaret picked up her teacup and took a sip, her sharp gaze fixed on me.

"Jane, once you take the money, you can never appear before Tristan again for the rest of your life. If I find out you're playing any tricks, I have plenty of ways to make your life a living hell."

I lowered my eyes and looked at the string of zeros on the agreement.

Thirty million.

My five years of youth, five years of wholehearted devotion-turns out they'd been priced all along in the Fuller family's eyes.

Of course I wouldn't appear again.

This lifetime, next lifetime-I never wanted any connection with Tristan Fuller again.

Without the slightest hesitation, I picked up the pen on the table and decisively signed my name on the last page.

Seeing me put pen to paper, Margaret finally relaxed and put the agreement in her bag.

"I'll give you one month. Whether you go to another city or abroad, after one month, I don't want to see you here anymore."

"Don't worry."

I stood up.

"I'll disappear completely."

After leaving the tea room, I didn't return to the company. Instead, I found an internet caf and booked a private booth.

Making it so Tristan could never find me was actually quite simple.

The Fuller family had deep military and political roots going back generations, but they also had a fatal weakness.

For three generations, direct members of the Fuller family had been strictly forbidden from leaving the country, let alone immigrating.

As long as I left this country, even if Tristan had eyes everywhere, he couldn't cross that red line.

I sat at the computer for a full four hours, reviewing massive amounts of immigration information.

Finally, I locked my sights on New Zealand.

The climate there was mild, the land vast with few people, and most importantly, it was over ten thousand kilometers away.

After deciding on the destination, I contacted a top-tier immigration agency.

"Jane, your qualifications meet New Zealand's skilled migration requirements. But going through normal procedures will take most of a year."

The agent said, flipping through my materials.

"I'm in a hurry."

"If we go through the expedited channel, money is no object. How soon can it be done?"

The agent's eyes lit up.

"If funding is in place, we can go through special channels. At most twenty days, and the visa will be approved."

"Good. Process that one."

After paying the deposit, I walked out of the agency office.

The sunlight was so bright I could barely open my eyes.

Twenty days.

That was my final countdown by Tristan's side.

In the afternoon, I returned to Fuller Group.

I was Tristan's executive assistant, the only one in the entire office who could make decisions on his behalf.

When I handed my resignation letter to the HR director, the other party was so shocked their jaw nearly dropped.

"Jane, you... aren't you getting married to Mr. Fuller next month? Why are you resigning now?"

I smiled.

"Wedding preparations are exhausting. Tristan feels bad for me, so he's letting me go home and be a full-time wife."

The HR director had an epiphany, offered repeated congratulations, and readily approved my resignation.

Walking out of the Fuller building carrying a cardboard box, I looked back at the towering structure.

Five years.

I accompanied Tristan from a wheelchair to standing, accompanied him as he built this empire.

Now, I was going to throw all of this, along with that man, straight into the garbage.

That evening, when Tristan came home and saw the cardboard box in the entrance, he paused.

Learning that I'd resigned, not only did he not get angry, he actually hugged me from behind, his face full of affection.

"You should have resigned long ago. From now on, just stay home obediently and be my Mrs. Fuller. I'll take care of you for life."

I leaned against him, listening to his strong heartbeat, finding it utterly ironic.

Mrs. Fuller?

Was that the joke holding a fake marriage certificate, deceived by everyone?

Jane's POV

Over the next several days, Tristan seemed to be trying to compensate for that bit of guilt in his heart, becoming increasingly attentive to me.

He pushed aside several unimportant social engagements and came home on time every day to have dinner with me.

On the weekend, he even proactively suggested taking me to try on wedding dresses.

In the most upscale custom wedding dress boutique downtown, the attendant carefully zipped up the back.

This wedding dress was the swan song of a top European designer. There was only one in the entire world.

I looked at myself in the mirror wearing the pure white wedding dress and only wanted to laugh.

I lifted the hem and walked out of the fitting room.

Tristan, waiting on the sofa, looked up, a flash of amazement in his eyes.

He stood up, strode over to me, and lowered his head to kiss my lips.

"Jane, you're beautiful."

Just then, the phone in Tristan's pocket vibrated.

He paused, took out his phone, glanced at it, and his expression changed slightly.

He walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, holding his phone, and answered the call.

Though he deliberately lowered his voice, I still vaguely heard a few words.

"Sarah... your father's side... okay, I'll come sign right away..."

After hanging up, Tristan turned around. The tenderness had faded from his face, replaced by barely concealed urgency.

"Jane, there's an emergency situation at the European branch. I need to hold a cross-border video conference. I have to get back to the company immediately."

He walked over and apologetically kissed my forehead.

"Take your time trying things on. Have them alter whatever doesn't fit. I'll have the driver take you home later."

I watched his retreating figure without exposing his lie.

Cross-border video conference?

What could make Tristan Fuller abandon his fiance during her wedding dress fitting, other than Sarah?

I turned and walked back to the fitting room, taking off that expensive wedding dress.

"No need for alterations."

I handed the dress to the attendant.

"I don't want this one."

Under the attendant's astonished gaze, I changed back into my own clothes and walked out of the bridal shop.

Returning to the penthouse, I began clearing out my belongings.

This large flat was filled with traces of our three years living together.

I grabbed several extra-large black trash bags and started tidying from the living room.

Matching couple mugs-thrown away.

Souvenirs bought together on our ski trip to the snow mountains-thrown away.

All the expensive bags and jewelry he'd brought back from business trips-packed up and collected by a luxury goods resale shop I'd contacted.

When I reached the walk-in closet, my movements paused.

In the bottom drawer lay a thick photo album.

These were photos I'd secretly taken during the five years Tristan was in a wheelchair.

There was his back as he furiously smashed things, a close-up of him biting his lip bloody during rehabilitation, and also a photo of us embracing and crying when he first stood independently.

I reached out and touched the young but gloomy face of the man in the photos.

Back then, Tristan only had eyes for me.

But people always change. Once the illness is cured, the crutch is no longer needed.

I didn't cry. I calmly closed the album and, along with those old clothes, mercilessly threw everything into the trash bag.

By evening, the once-full penthouse was already half empty.

Only some superficial necessities remained, maintaining the illusion that I was still living there.

At ten p.m., Tristan came back.

He carried a faint smell of disinfectant, clearly just returning from the hospital.

Seeing that some decorations were missing from the living room, he frowned slightly.

"Why is the house so empty?"

"The season changed. I cleared out some old things we don't use and threw them away."

I sat on the sofa without even lifting my head.

Tristan walked over and sat beside me, reaching out to hold me.

"I'm sorry about today, leaving you alone at the bridal shop. I'll go with you tomorrow to try on dresses again, okay?"

I avoided his touch and stood up.

"No need. I've already chosen the wedding dress."

Tristan looked at my attitude and fell silent for a moment.

"Jane, are you angry?"

"No."

My tone was calm.

"I'm a bit tired. I'm going to bed."

Just as I was about to leave, he suddenly told me.

"Tomorrow night is Gabriel's birthday party. Come with me."

As he said this, he looked at me expectantly, seemingly wanting to see me happy.

But I just nodded.

"Got it."

I just nodded, then turned and left.

Jane's POV

Gabriel's birthday party was set at the city's most elite private club.

Inside the private room, the lighting was dim and the music deafening.

When Tristan pushed open the door holding my hand, the originally noisy room instantly fell silent for a second.

Everyone's eyes turned to me in unison.

In those gazes were sympathy, pity, and also schadenfreude at watching the drama unfold.

I knew very well that in this circle, the news of Tristan and Sarah's marriage probably hadn't been a secret for a long time.

Only I, like a fool, was being deceived.

"You're here! Quick, sit, sit!"

Gabriel was the first to react, breaking the awkward silence with a dry laugh.

Tristan pulled me to sit in the center of the sofa and casually poured me a glass of warm water.

"She has a sensitive stomach and can't drink alcohol."

He said to everyone, playing the part of an attentive good husband.

A chorus of hollow agreement immediately rose around us.

"You're so good to her."

"Yeah, the wedding is next month. Congratulations in advance on your marriage."

Listening to these insincere blessings, I only felt my stomach churning.

I picked up the water glass, hiding the cold smile at the corners of my mouth.

Tristan was pulled aside by a few friends to drink, while I sat alone in the corner, clearly out of place.

Gabriel came over with a drink.

"Tristan... he's been pretty busy lately, hasn't he?"

I turned to look at him.

"Quite busy. Busy with company matters, and busy taking care of other people."

Gabriel's face stiffened. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but ultimately swallowed it back.

"Actually, you're the one Tristan loves most in his heart. We've all witnessed your relationship over these five years. Being in his position, sometimes he's forced by family interests to do things beyond his control... Some things, don't take too much to heart."

I laughed.

"Gabriel, what exactly shouldn't I take to heart?"

Gabriel gave an awkward laugh and quickly found an excuse to escape.

I withdrew my gaze, looking at Tristan in the distance, laughing and chatting with others.

He was wearing the shirt I'd personally ironed, the tie clip I'd bought him, but his heart had long since flown to someone else.

Just then, the door to the private room was suddenly pushed open from outside.

A woman in a white dress stood at the entrance, her face pale, swaying unsteadily.

It was Sarah.

The air in the private room instantly froze.

Everyone instinctively looked at Tristan, then at me.

The smile on Tristan's face abruptly stiffened.

He stood up almost instinctively and strode toward the door.

"How did you get here? Didn't I tell you to rest properly at the hospital?"

His tone was full of reproach.

Sarah looked at him with reddened eyes, aggrieved.

"I was scared alone at the hospital, and you wouldn't answer when I called..."

As she spoke, her body went limp, falling straight toward Tristan.

Tristan caught her in one swift motion and lifted her horizontally into his arms.

He turned his head and looked at me sitting in the corner, his eyes somewhat evasive.

"Jane, Sarah isn't feeling well. I'm taking her back to the hospital first. Have the driver take you home later."

No explanation. No hesitation.

The moment Sarah appeared, he abandoned me without mercy.

The private room was silent as death.

Everyone was watching me.

I slowly stood up and smoothed the wrinkles in my skirt.

I didn't look at Tristan or Sarah. I just picked up my bag.

"No need. I'll take a cab home myself."

My voice wasn't loud, but it reached everyone's ears clearly.

Tristan looked at my face, seeming to want to say something, but Sarah in his arms let out a pained moan.

"Tristan, it hurts so much..."

Tristan's attention was instantly pulled back. He tightened his arms and quickly left the private room carrying Sarah.

I watched their backs disappear outside the door, the corners of my mouth curling into a mocking arc.

I turned around and nodded slightly to everyone in the room with their various expressions.

"Enjoy yourselves. I'm leaving first."

Walking out of the private club, the night wind outside carried a hint of coolness.

I took out my phone and glanced at the calendar.

Fifteen days until the visa came through.

Tristan, between us, there were only fifteen days left.