He Redeemed Her Family Estate

When I heard the news that Vivian Blackwell had gone bankrupt and returned to the country, I was curled up in Dominics arms, picking out rings.

The entire social circle was mocking the downfall of this once untouchable goddess.

I looked up and kissed his chin, teasing, Vivian's back. Don't you need to go help her out?

He played absentmindedly with my fingers and sneered, "Why would I help her? Baby, don't think I'm that sentimental."

I breathed a sigh of relief. After all, it was the Blackwell family who dumped Dominic years ago because they thought he was too poor. With his pride, he would never go back to her.

I went to the dressing room to change into an evening gown. When I came out, I saw Dominic standing on the balcony with his back to me, cigarette smoke curling around his fingertips.

On impulse, I picked up his phone from the couch.

A message from his assistant popped up on the screen: "Dominic, as per your instructions, I've redeemed Miss Blackwell's family estate. The total was 50 million."

"What are you looking at so intently?"

A low voice came from behind me, with a raspy edge from just smoking.

My fingers instinctively stiffened, the numbers on the screen reflected in my pupils.

A few seconds later, I calmly pressed the lock button and placed the phone face down on the couch cushion.

"Nothing."

I turned around and met his eyes.

The dark undercurrent in his eyes hadn't completely dissipated, but the moment he met my gaze, he skillfully switched to a gentle expression.

"Just checking tomorrow's bridal fitting schedule," I said.

Dominic casually stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and strode toward me with long legs.

He carried the scent of tobacco mixed with the coolness of the night breeze, naturally pulling me into his embrace.

"Leave those trivial matters to the assistant." His chin rested on top of my head, rubbing gently in a soothing manner. "Tomorrow I'm clearing my entire schedule to spend the whole day with you."

I leaned against his warm chest, listening to his heartbeat, which remained steady.

The question "What's with the fifty million?" got stuck in my throat.

I closed my eyes and swallowed it down, along with five years of my youth.

"Okay," I said softly.

The next morning, a light rain began to fall over River City.

Unusually, Dominic didn't handle emails during breakfast. Instead, he carefully peeled an egg and placed it on my plate.

When we arrived at the city's most exclusive bridal boutique, the manager and her assistants were already waiting at the entrance.

"Miss Harper, all three wedding dresses you reserved have been flown in."

I was ushered into the VIP room.

Dominic sat on the couch, casually flipping through a magazine.

"Go try them on. I'll wait here for you." He smiled at me warmly, his eyes full of affection.

The first dress was an extremely elaborate French embroidered gown with a long train.

The fitting process was lengthy, with several assistants carefully tightening the laces at my waist.

Just as I was about to put on the veil, a sudden urgent phone ring came from outside.

Through the half-open curtain of the fitting room, I saw Dominic abruptly stand up.

He didn't even notice the magazine dropping to the carpet. He strode to the window, covering the receiver, his voice extremely low, his spine rigid.

By the time I walked out of the fitting room holding up my skirt, he had already grabbed his suit jacket from the chair.

"Dominic?" I called softly.

He turned around, his gaze pausing on me for half a second. No amazement, no praise, only poorly concealed irritation.

"A friend has an emergency." He strode toward the exit while quickly buttoning up his jacket, not even coming over to hug me. "I'm going to check on them. I'll be right back. Whichever dress you like, just put it on my account."

As the VIP room door clicked shut, he disappeared behind it.

The manager stood awkwardly holding the veil. "Miss Harper, this..."

"It's fine," I said, looking at myself in the full-length mirror, dressed so elaborately yet looking utterly ridiculous. "I'll wait for him."

The wedding dress was heavy, making it hard to breathe.

The wall clock ticked monotonously.

The staff changed my tea for the fourth time. The water had gone completely cold, a bitter film forming on the surface.

I glanced at my phone.

8 PM.

He said he'd be right back, but made me wait twelve hours in the climate-controlled VIP room.

A sudden pain shot through my lower abdomen. My face went white as I bent over, fingers gripping the wedding dress tightly.

Cold sweat beaded on my forehead.

With trembling hands, I opened my contacts and dialed Dominic's number.

The long ringing tone echoed in the empty VIP room.

Just one second before it automatically disconnected, the call was answered.

"Dominic, my stomach hurts a bit..."

"Hello?"

What came through the speaker wasn't Dominic's deep voice, but a woman's coquettish laugh.

"Oh, it's Miss Harper."

My breathing stopped abruptly.

It was Vivian.

"Dominic can't take your call right now."

I heard a faint metallic clinking sound from the other end.

Vivian laughed casually, her tone blatantly showing off. "The crystal chandelier at the Blackwell estate is too heavy. Dominic's worried it might fall and hit me, so he's standing on a ladder right now, personally hanging it for me."

The call was disconnected from the other end.

The dragging pain in my lower abdomen slowly tortured my nerves.

I sat on the couch, not moving for a long time.

It wasn't until the manager softly asked if I needed a car that I snapped out of it, took off the wedding dress, and changed back into my regular clothes.

The Blackwell family's hillside estate was nearly an hour's drive from downtown.

The taxi drove along the mountain road, the windshield wipers swinging frantically.

By the time I reached the front gate, my shoes were completely soaked through.

The rusty iron gate stood ajar, welcoming its former owner.

I stepped through the mud puddles, walking step by step to the floor-to-ceiling windows of the main building.

Inside, the lights blazed brightly.

Through the rain-washed glass, I could clearly see the scene inside.

Dominic had removed his suit jacket and wore only a white shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows.

He stood on a ladder, tools in hand, looking down and saying something to the person below.

Vivian wore a nightgown, looking up with a happy smile.

She held a ragdoll cat in her arms.

Dominic hated cats the most.

In five years of living together, he wouldn't even go into cat cafs, making excuses about allergies and waiting for me in the car.

But now, he descended from the ladder and not only didn't avoid it, but quite naturally reached out to pet the cat's head.

Vivian took the opportunity to grab his sleeve, acting coquettish.

The scene was too warm, so warm that me standing here as his fiance seemed utterly ridiculous.

I stood in the rain, watching through the glass for a long time. Long enough for my fingers to freeze stiff, long enough for even the pain in my abdomen to become numb.

I circled around to the front entrance and pushed open the main door.

The laughter inside stopped abruptly.

Vivian flinched and immediately hid behind Dominic with the cat.

"Miss Harper... why are you here?" She looked at me timidly, her eyes instantly brimming with tears.

Dominic turned around, the warmth on his face instantly cooling the moment he saw me covered in mud.

"You followed me?" He frowned deeply, striding up to me.

I ignored his accusation, my gaze moving past his slightly wrinkled white shirt to the few cat hairs still remaining on his fingertips.

He said he was allergic to cat hair. In the past, if I so much as glanced at a stray cat, he would nervously remind me to wash my hands.

Now, he could let that ragdoll cat roll around in his arms without any problem.

It wasn't an allergy after all. It was just not enough love.

"Rain, do you have to make a scene in the pouring rain?" Seeing my silence, his tone grew harsher. "Vivian has severe depression. She's afraid to be alone."

Boom!

Thunder crashed outside the window, white light illuminating my wet, slightly trembling fingers.

The vintage wall clock struck eleven.

I looked at him draping his suit jacket over Vivian's shoulders and suddenly smiled faintly.

"So it's already eleven." I didn't cry, and even looked at him quite gently. "Dominic, the bridal shop closed at eight."

Dominic's previously angry eyes instantly froze, his hand draping the jacket stopping mid-air.

Behind Dominic, Vivian tugged at his sleeve, her voice choked: "Dominic, don't blame Miss Harper. It's my fault. This house is full of my parents' memories. I was too scared... I'll never dare trouble you again."

Dominic turned and gripped her wrist, patting it reassuringly.

He turned back to me, his eyes cold, as if looking at a stranger. "Your jealous behavior right now is completely unreasonable." He pointed toward the door. "Go home right now. Stop making a scene here."

I looked at his posture protecting Vivian.

"Fine."

No hysterical argument, no pointing at Vivian and cursing.

I turned and stepped over the threshold, opening my black umbrella again.

Behind me came the sound of the door slamming heavily.

The airflow kicked up muddy water, splashing onto my beige dress hem, leaving several dirty streaks.

The relationship I had carefully protected for five years was now completely soiled.

The next morning, the sound of the keypad lock beeped in the quiet apartment.

Dominic walked into the bedroom carrying the chill of late autumn.

He held a paper bag printed with the logo of that croissant shop in the west of the city.

That was the place where years ago, after I casually mentioned wanting to eat there, he braved sub-zero temperatures and snow, waiting in line for two hours, keeping the food warm against his chest so it wouldn't get cold, bringing it back to me.

Back then, his eyes held only me.

Back then, I thought I had the whole world.

Now it was also pouring rain, only he was rushing to someone else.

Turns out time really does devour people.

It not only devoured his love but also devoured the me whose eyes were full of him.

He placed the paper bag on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed.

He reached out, wanting to tuck the stray hair from my cheek behind my ear.

Just as his fingertips were about to touch my skin, a faint scent of perfume drifted into my nostrils.

It was Vivian's favorite perfume.

Last night, he had draped his suit jacket over her shoulders.

My body reacted faster than my brain, instinctively turning my head away from his touch.

His hand froze in mid-air, his fingers curling slightly before he casually withdrew it.

"I had a bad attitude yesterday." He lowered his posture, his tone carrying helpless tolerance. "But you have to understand. The Blackwell family went bankrupt. She has nothing now, and her depression relapsed. She keeps trying to kill herself."

"I can't just watch her die, can I?"

He opened the paper bag on his own and used a bamboo pick to spear a steaming croissant, bringing it to my lips.

"Be good. Eat it while it's hot. After you finish, we'll reschedule the dress fitting."

The rich buttery aroma mixed with that faint perfume smell fermented in the air.

I didn't get angry. My body even retained the muscle memory from the past.

I obediently reached out and took the bamboo pick.

A hint of relaxed amusement flashed in Dominic's eyes.

But in the next second, I turned around and quite naturally tossed the whole steaming croissant, bamboo pick and all, into the trash can beside the bed.

A soft thud.

"It's cold. Can't bite through it." I pulled out a wet wipe and carefully cleaned the fingers that had just held the bamboo pick, not even lifting my eyelids.

The smile on Dominic's face instantly froze.

He stared at the trash can, seemingly unable to believe that I, who had always been so docile, would do such a thing.

"Rain," his voice turned cold, carrying the authority of someone in power, "don't push your luck."

He threw down those words, stood up, and went into the bathroom.

I threw the wipe I'd used to clean my hands into the trash can.

From that day on, for a whole week, Dominic always had an excuse to stay out all night.

Each time he returned in the early morning, the scent of that perfume on him grew stronger.

I didn't expose him, nor did I make a fuss.

I continued to eat, sleep, and work on my designs as usual.

I just stopped initiating messages to him and stopped asking about his schedule.

These past few days, the dragging pain in my lower abdomen had become more frequent.

I'd spent four hours making chicken soup, packing it in a thermos, planning to take it to the hospital to eat after my checkup.

But at the intersection, on impulse, I had the driver change course to Dominic's studio.

The receptionist saw it was me and respectfully let me through.

I carried the thermos and walked to his private consultation room.

The door wasn't fully closed, leaving a small gap.

Vivian's soft voice drifted out: "Dominic, you spent fifty million to buy back the Blackwell estate. Was it really just to help me?"

I stopped in my tracks.

"Don't overthink it," Dominic's voice was flat.

Vivian laughed softly, her voice even softer: "Then... does this count as you preparing our wedding home?"

Inside went silent for a few seconds.

Dominic didn't deny it, only saying quietly: "Just live there for now."

I looked at the heavy thermos in my hands and suddenly felt that these days of restraint and understanding were absurd to the extreme.

I raised my hand and pushed open the half-closed door.

Both people inside looked over simultaneously.

Vivian was leaning against the edge of the desk, Dominic standing in front of her, the distance between them long past the safe boundary of social interaction.

"Miss Harper..." Vivian looked startled when she saw me, suddenly stepping backward.

She wore thin high heels. Her foot caught and she fell backward.

"Ah!"

Her hand happened to land on a decorative crystal on the desk, the skin breaking, a trace of blood seeping out.

"Vivian!"

Dominic's expression changed instantly.

His body moved faster than his reason, rushing past me, even bumping my shoulder heavily in his haste.

I stumbled backward from the impact, my lower back hitting the door frame, the thermos in my hands falling to the floor.

Sharp pain spread rapidly from deep in my abdomen.

My face turned deathly pale instantly. I slid down along the door frame, sitting on the floor.

A few steps away, Dominic was half-kneeling on the ground, carefully protecting Vivian in his arms.

He held the handkerchief I had embroidered with his name, pressing it firmly against Vivian's palm, which had only a minor scrape.

After doing all this, he turned his head, looking at me with extremely guarded and disgusted eyes.

But the moment he saw the spilled chicken soup on the floor, his body froze abruptly.

His fingers holding Vivian's wrist moved involuntarily.

His gaze moved from the soup up to my pale face, a panic he himself didn't notice flashing in his eyes.

"Rain..." He instinctively released Vivian, wanting to stand up.

But Vivian cried out delicately at that moment: "Dominic, it hurts so much."

His knee, which had just lifted, knelt back down again.

"Rain, do you have to make a scene at a time like this?" He lowered his voice, his tone revealing guilty anxiety and coldness.

I looked at his posture protecting Vivian.

The pain in my abdomen had made even breathing painful.

But I didn't cry out in pain.

I knew that the man before me would no longer feel heartache for my tears.

Crying out would only make me seem more pathetic.

I braced myself against the wall, slowly and shakily standing up.

I looked at the spilled soup on the floor, then at Dominic.

"I'm sorry." I swallowed dryly, my voice so soft it was almost inaudible. "I dirtied your floor."

I didn't look at him again. Clutching my aching stomach, I slowly walked out of the studio.

The moment I walked out the door, I thought I heard Dominic call my name.

I didn't look back.

A warm flow trickled down my thigh, washing away five years of relationship completely clean.