"Ms. Flynn, your Alzheimer's has progressed quite a bit. I recommend that you be admitted to the hospital as soon as possible, otherwise your condition may continue to worsen, and you will forget everything from your past."

Inside the quiet car, Anastasia Flynn could hear her own heartbeat.

"How much time do I have left?"

The doctor was silent for a moment before sighing. "At most, a month before you reach the severe stage of dementia."

"I see. Thank you."

She hung up the phone. The screen lit up, and the wallpaper was a picture of the man she had loved for over a decade.

Her uncle, Benedict Vasquez.

There was no blood relation between them. Years ago, their parents worked together and went to the neighboring city for an inspection but were involved in a series of car accidents. He was the only survivor.

Eight-year-old Anastasia lost her parents. Her relatives fought over her custody for the sake of her parents' estate.

At a crucial moment, Benedict, with his head wrapped in gauze, squatted down in front of her and held out his hand, "Ana, I'm taking you home."

From then on, he kept her by his side. Although he came from a noble background, he always handled her matters personally.

This wallpaper was taken in her first year of high school.

Like many parents, Benedict was worried about the SAT. He started planning for her when she was in her first year of high school, spending every night watching online classes and looking up information, even more anxious than she was.

The shutter clicked, resulting in the most embarrassing photo of Benedict since he was born.

But back then, his eyes were full of affection.

Now, though, everything was different.

On her eighteenth birthday, after the guests left, she hugged Benedict's waist tightly, "Benny, I like you!"

She didn't know when this feeling began to grow in her heart. After countless days and nights of preparation, she finally said the words out loud.

At the time, she felt like a warrior burning her bridges, betting everything on revealing the secret in her heart to Benedict.

However, after a brief moment of shock, Benedict suddenly pushed her away, "Do you even know what you're saying? I'm your uncle!"

Anastasia stumbled and fell abruptly, hitting the corner of the flowerbed. Blood immediately seeped from her delicate skin.

Benedict took a step forward. Subconsciously, he wanted to help Anastasia up, but he stopped almost immediately.

"What made you think like that? Didn't I raise you better than this?"

For a moment, Anastasia couldn't tell whether her bloody knee or her heart hurt more. Those were probably the sharpest words Benedict had ever said to her over the years.

The very next day, Benedict's romance news was trending.

Later, Benedict went through one woman after another. Anastasia stubbornly believed it was just his way of making her give up.

Trouble comes in bunches. Not long ago, she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease during a check-up. This disease couldn't be cured, only managed with medication.

But today, her condition had worsened.

At the same time, she found out about his engagement.

She used every method she could to find out the hotel he was staying at and got there at lightning speed.

Before she could figure out what to say, the man she'd longed for appeared.

It was autumn. Benedict was wearing a charcoal-gray cashmere coat. His tall, straight figure looked particularly slender in the cold wind.

As the wind blew, he reached out to fix the hair of the woman next to him. Their eyes met, and they were intimate as if no one else was around.

Watching them, Anastasia was lost in thought.

She remembered a similar late autumn, when Benedict would brush the fallen leaves from her hair, pat her head, and gently pinch her cheek. He would say, "Ana is so pretty."

That look of complete tenderness was etched into Anastasia's memory. But now, the only person in his eyes was the woman beside him.

Anastasia was the one who had Alzheimer's disease. So why was Benedict the first to forget?

She really wanted to push open the car door, rush up to him, grab him, and ask which was more important, that woman or her.

But she didn't.

She just cried silently, enduring the wrenching pain in her heart. The tears kept falling. No matter how much she wiped, they wouldn't stop.

Finally, just as Benedict wished, she gave up completely.

Anastasia didn't know how long she had cried. Her vision became increasingly blurry, and her world sank into endless darkness.

A phone call jolted her awake.

It was already dawn.

Sniffling, she heard the urging voice of Benedict's secretary, Jennifer Adams. "Where have you been? Mr. Vasquez just returned. You need to bring the Vexel Group merger plan to the company!"

Benedict was no longer outside the car window. Anastasia pursed her lips for a long time before responding with an "hmm".

After college graduation, she secretly worked hard to get into Benedict's company without telling him.

All she wanted was to be a little closer to him. Even closer.

No one in the company knew that Benedict was her guardian. They even thought he was her enemy. Whenever he saw her, his face was always gloomy.

Anastasia checked her memo. Her memory had been getting worse lately, and she could only recall certain fragments this way.

According to the reminder, the Vexel Group plan was in her bag.

Since she got sick, she had handed over most of her work, leaving only the Vexel Group project. Fortunately, the work was nearing its end. She could resign after the handover.

At the downtown office, Anastasia was blocked as soon as she got off the elevator. "You're finally here! Everything is ready in the conference room. We're just waiting for your plan!"

Jennifer couldn't wait for Anastasia and started rummaging through her bag.

"I'll do it myself. " Anastasia's heart tightened. Besides the Vexel Group merger plan, her latest medical report was also in her bag.

When she pulled out the file, she looked up and met the man's deep, ancient well-like eyes.

Benedict.

Her lips parted, but her body froze. Only after a while did she manage to utter, "Mr. Vasquez."

Benedict looked down at her, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes.

Ever since Anastasia expressed her feelings, she had never called him Benny, let alone 'Mr. Vasquez'. But he didn't care too much.

His expression remained cold, "You're just arriving at the company now? What were you doing all morning?"

Her heart skipped a beat. She knew he didn't like people who lacked a sense of time.

On New Year's Eve last year, he had promised to spend New Year's Eve with her, but had to return to New York for work. She held her beloved teddy bear, feeling down as she watched the city's fireworks rise and fall, her heart covered in gloom. However, when the New Year's countdown clock rang in the city, Benedict miraculously pushed open the door.

She would never forget that scene.

Benedict wore a red scarf. Though his fatigue was hard to hide, he still curved his lips and handed over a gift. He said, "Happy New Year, my baby."

Later, she heard he took a helicopter home that night, and there was a sudden heavy snowstorm in New York. He once risked his life to be on time for her surprise.

But now that he was back, the first thing he did was get intimate with his fiancée.

Still, she was planning to leave now. There was no need to tell him about being sick.

Anastasia pursed her lips and didn't say a word. The atmosphere was awkward for a moment.

Jennifer quickly explained, "Mr. Vasquez, I had her meet a client this morning. She was stuck in traffic on the way back."

Benedict raised an eyebrow and snorted coldly, "Is that so?"

Anastasia sensed his displeasure, but she couldn't figure it out and didn't bother to guess, so she just nodded.

Seeing this, he strode away from her. The cold aura felt like the arrival of winter.

As soon as he left, Jennifer was noticeably relieved. She took the document from Anastasia's hand and patted her shoulder, "You're safe for now. You absolutely can't miss the dinner party tonight. Mr. Vasquez will be there. You need to perform well."

Anastasia was distracted all day. After work, she was led to the party. Jennifer was gazing at someone enviously and clicked her tongue, "Can you believe Francesca's luck? Why would Mr. Vasquez fall for her?"

Francesca Monroe, Benedict's fiancée.

Anastasia looked up. Standing right next to Benedict was his arm candy, the minor celebrity he was seen with at the hotel.

Anastasia's breath almost stopped, but she didn't agree with Jennifer's words.

Since Benedict chose Francesca, it proved that Francesca must possess a unique quality no one else could match.

At least, she was better than Anastasia.

As she was thinking, Jennifer unknowingly dragged Anastasia closer to the center of the party. The sound of their conversation became clearer.

"Mr. Vasquez, when's your wedding reception? We'd love to celebrate with you."

Benedict's lean, sculpted hands held a stemmed glass as he conversed calmly, "That depends on her."

Francesca leaned against Benedict and replied playfully, "I'm not in a rush, so Mr. Dixon might have to wait a while."

Anastasia pinched her palm, trying to remain calm.

In the past, she had dreamed of marrying Benedict, but to another woman, it was like a hot potato.

Mr. Dixon joked with a smile, "Ms. Monroe, should we change how we address you later, and call you Mrs. Vasquez?"

Francesca was composed. Before she could even lift her glass, Benedict put his arm around her shoulder and glanced at Anastasia. "She can't hold her liquor. How about having the young lady from our company keep Mr. Dixon company instead?"

Suddenly, Anastasia felt everyone's eyes focus on her. She was like a live target in a hail of bullets.

She looked at Benedict in shock. A storm raged in her heart.

She had a weak stomach. In the past, Benedict never allowed her to drink alcohol on any occasion. Yet now, she was being pushed out to take his fiancée's place?

Seeing her still in a daze, Jennifer directly grabbed a glass of wine and put it in her hand, deliberately telling her to be obedient. Anastasia nodded, a self-mocking smile appearing on her face.

Benedict had taken care of her for so many years. It was time for her to repay him. Now, she should be thankful that she was still somewhat useful to his fiancée.

Champagne and brandy went down one after another.

Under the influence of alcohol, Anastasia felt hot all over. She simply took off her coat and hung it on the back of the chair, looking as if she wouldn't stop until she was drunk.

An unexpected clatter, the hidden clasp on her bag had somehow opened, and her things spilled all over the floor.

Among them, the medical report was particularly glaring.

A dead silence fell around Anastasia.

She stared intently at the medical report. All traces of her earlier drunkenness instantly vanished as a chill shot through her.

She quickly put down the wine glass and rushed frantically behind the chair, picking up the medical report and shoving it into her bag.

She could not let Benedict know that she was sick.

She absolutely couldn't become a burden to him when he was about to get married.

Yet, her trembling hands couldn't seem to stuff the report into the bag.

"Let me help you." A woman's gentle voice spoke.

She smoothed out her skirt and squatted down, holding Anastasia's bag with one hand and grasping the corner of the medical report with the other. Her hands were also very beautiful, with small palms and delicate fingers.

Anastasia froze. She hadn't expected Francesca to be the one who stepped forward to offer help.

But Francesca wasn't just helping. She scrutinized the half-held medical report, causing an alarm to instantly blare in Anastasia's mind.

Subconsciously, she wanted to take those few pages back.

However, before she could touch anything, Francesca fell backward as if she were made of paper.

"Francesca!" Benedict rushed over, immediately wrapping Francesca in his arms, his eyes full of distress, "Where did you hit yourself? Does it hurt?

"She's helping you out of kindness. What are you doing?" He turned to Anastasia and immediately scolded her, his icy glare sweeping over her, "Over two pieces of paper?"

Meeting Benedict's eyes, Anastasia's heart skipped a beat.

She subconsciously hid the medical report behind her, trying to conceal the tension in her voice, "She fell on her own. It wasn't me."

Seeing her strange behavior, Benedict's face darkened.

"Hand it over."

She tightened her grip. Anastasia shook her head, her face etched with stubbornness.

The atmosphere instantly froze.

Benedict furrowed his brow, just about to reach out to find out what was happening, when Francesca's choked voice suddenly came from behind him. "Ben, I'm in pain."

Looking at her tear-filled eyes, Benedict only hesitated for a moment before making his decision.

He immediately stepped forward, lifted Francesca in a princess carry, and whispered to comfort her, "I'll take you to the hospital."

Watching them leave, the stone hanging over Anastasia's heart finally dropped.

But a trace of self-mockery flashed through her mind right after. Benedict's eyes were all on Francesca now. Why would he still care about her?

She squatted down, picked up the items one by one from the floor, and then left in embarrassment amid everyone's pitying gazes.

However, the moment she turned around, tears blurred her vision again.

The Vasquez's residence was shrouded in heavy darkness. Dim light illuminated the corridor of the mansion.

Anastasia felt dazed and couldn't remember where her room was.

She knelt on the ground with a thump, her consciousness fading.

In a daze, she saw a familiar figure rushing towards her.

In her haze, she felt someone pick up her body.

Through her blurred vision, she saw Benedict's sharply defined jawline. She was being held in his arms.

He was so handsome.

But why was he here?

Tears fell from the corners of her eyes. She stared foolishly at Benedict until he carried her into a room and placed her on the bed.

As he pulled away, Anastasia abruptly wrapped her arms around his neck.

He subconsciously turned his head to avoid her. "That's inappropriate," he said in a dull voice, pulling Anastasia's arms away.

Anastasia crossed her fingers even tighter. Her eyes were swollen from. "This is the last time I'll be inappropriate."

"What do you mean by the last time?" Benedict didn't push her away anymore, his eyes dark and unclear.

The sudden question made Anastasia's heart pound.

A bitter smile appeared on her lips, "Do you really want to know?"

He looked at her strange expression and nodded seriously.

Anastasia arranged her words, her alcohol-tinged breath fanning his cheek. Just as she was about to speak, an abrupt ringing sound broke the silence.

Benedict answered the phone first.

"Ben, I had a nightmare. I'm so scared." Francesca's tearful voice echoed through the whole room.

"Okay, don't be scared. I'll be there right away." His response was instant; his usually calm face was covered with worry.

When the call ended, Anastasia's tightly clasped hands around Benedict lost their strength and dropped.

She feigned a casual attitude and smiled self-mockingly, "Benny, you should go."

Benedict frowned deeply, but his concern for Francesca ultimately won out. He got up and left.

Anastasia pulled the quilt over her mouth, muffling her sobs.

Whether it was from the alcohol or the tears, she slept deeply, only waking up when it was bright outside.

She went downstairs and saw Benedict sitting at the dining table, enjoying breakfast.

He was drinking coffee, slowly savoring his sandwich. The scene was peaceful.

Anastasia sat across from him and yawned openly, "Benny, aren't you supposed to be going to Europe for a business trip?"

He had noticed something was off with her when she came downstairs.

"What are you talking about?" He hadn't seen her like this for a long time.

Previously, Anastasia intentionally paid attention to her appearance and tried various styles when she was in front of him.

But today, she was still wearing yesterday's clothes, smelled of alcohol, and hadn't washed up.

Geraldine, the housekeeper, served milk and smiled, "Ms. Flynn, you're still dreaming. Didn't Mr. Vasquez stop his European business three years ago?"

Is that so?

Anastasia shuddered. Holding the edge of the table, fear began to grow in her heart.

"Ms. Flynn, your phone is ringing," Geraldine reminded, placing a plate of ravioli down.

She absentmindedly answered the call.

Before she even put it to her ear, she clearly heard the person on the phone say, "Ms. Flynn, if you have time, come to the hospital to pick up your medicine."

Anastasia subconsciously glanced at Benedict.

In just a few seconds, Anastasia's palms were clammy with nervous sweat. She could only manage a stiff reply, "O... Okay. Thanks."

However, Benedict wasn't even looking at her. His words were filled with dismissiveness. "Don't try to gain attention this way. It's pathetic."

Without looking back, he left the house.

Anastasia sat frozen, feeling as if she had been struck by lightning, utterly lost.

She didn't understand why Benedict, who had always been tolerant of her, would say such a thing.

"Ms. Flynn," Geraldine walked over to clear the dishes and reminded her, "It's getting late. You need to hurry."

Anastasia held the edge of the table and stood up. She staggered upstairs, muttering, "I need you to tell my teacher I won't be in. I'm... not feeling well today."

"Ms. Flynn, what teacher are you talking about?"

Anastasia stopped at the stairs, suddenly trembling. The confusion in her eyes cleared up a little.

The next moment, she quickly returned to her room and pulled out a palm-sized notebook from a drawer.

The notebook was filled with neat, dense handwriting.

In August, Benny went to Los Angeles.

In September, during the company medical check-up, the doctor called her into the clinic alone and informed her she had Alzheimer's disease.

In October, Benny got a fiancée, Francesca. At the same time, the doctor informed her that she was about to enter the late stage.

Snap!

She slammed the notebook shut. She took a deep breath and resolutely washed up and dressed neatly.

She had to go to the hospital to get her medicine. At least, before she left, she couldn't show any signs of being unwell.

At the hospital clinic, the middle-aged doctor said while writing a prescription, "Ms. Flynn, you still haven't agreed to be admitted yet?"

Anastasia laced her fingers together, "Wait a few more days."

"Don't your family know about your condition?" The doctor was more anxious than she was. "If you insist on not being admitted, you must leave a family member's contact information."

She opened her mouth. She knew Benedict's phone number by heart. But when the words were about to come out, she swallowed them back.

Immediately, she shook her head, "I don't have any family. Both my parents passed away."

With her parents having died young and her suffering from an incurable disease at a young age, even the doctor, who was used to life and death, looked at Anastasia with deep sympathy. He could only increase the dosage of the medicine, hoping to delay the progression for as long as possible.

By the time she returned to the company from the hospital, it was already past 10:00 a.m.

It should have been the peak time for work, but the programming department was eerily quiet.

Anastasia's heart sank. She quickened her pace and ran into Jennifer, who was coming out.

Seeing her, Jennifer's expression changed. She immediately pulled her into the break room.

"Why did you come to the company?"

"What do you mean?"

A storm surged uncontrollably in Anastasia's heart.

Did she forget something?

A chill ran down Anastasia's spine, but the harder she tried to recall, the blanker her mind became.

"Mr. Vasquez's fiancée is here to supervise," Jennifer whispered. "She probably remembers that you pushed her last night and has taken your desk. Didn't I text you to go out and meet clients to avoid the trouble?"

Pushed who?

Anastasia followed the familiar route to her workstation. What greeted her eyes was a stunning beauty.

She was wearing a tight-fitting top and a small leather skirt, sitting on the office chair with her long, crossed legs, boredly admiring her manicure.

Francesca.

The name popped into Anastasia's mind without warning. Along with them, she remembered the rigorous selection interviews when she secretly applied to the company.

The company's system was strict. She started at a junior position and slowly advanced to mid-level after proving her performance.

But all that seemed like mere window dressing in front of Francesca.

At this moment, Francesca looked at Anastasia, her red lips curved into a smile, "I think the view is better from this spot. You don't mind, do you?"

Anastasia shook her head, walked closer, bent down, and took a cardboard box from under the desk. She then began packing her belongings.

"It's fine. I was planning to resign anyway."

"Are you crazy?" Jennifer, who was standing not far behind her, rushed forward when she heard this. "Do you know how many people competed for your position? You finally—"

"Thank you, Jen. Everyone has their own goals. Thank you for looking after me at the company."

She didn't have much. After she finished packing, the notes and certificates she had summarized from the moment she joined the company until now were placed on the very top layer.

Jennifer sighed regretfully, "Even if you want to resign, you can't leave immediately. You need Mr. Vasquez's personal signature for your resignation approval..."

The moment she finished speaking, there was a crash.

Everyone turned their heads and saw a cup of coffee falling from above.

It landed squarely on Anastasia's cardboard box, splashing coffee everywhere.

"Oops, my apologies, I just wasn't paying attention..." Francesca's face showed no apology, only a look of condescending disdain. "Anyway, all these things belong to the company, so just leave them here."

The items belonged to the company, but the effort was Anastasia's.

Everyone looked at Anastasia with worry, afraid that a fierce confrontation was about to break out.

Unexpectedly, Anastasia lowered her eyes, and a faint smile touched her lips, "You're right."

A moment later, she threw the entire cardboard box into the trash can.

Everything here belonged to the Vasquez Group—and by extension, to Francesca.

It had nothing to do with her.

She could neither have Benedict nor the remnants of her work.

Suddenly, the entire office was engulfed in a strange atmosphere.

The internal line rang. Jennifer quickly snapped out of it to answer the call.

A moment later, she walked over to Anastasia and said, "Mr. Vasquez called. He wants to see you."

Anastasia rarely came to the CEO's office.

Benedict sat in the chair behind his desk, his cold, hawk-like eyes fixed on her, "Haven't you caused enough trouble?"

Anastasia had expected that being summoned here would mean nothing good. But his words stumped her.

She lifted her gaze, meeting his dark, somber face, "Mr. Vasquez, I don't understand what you mean."

Bang!

Benedict forcefully slammed the desk, startling Anastasia and making the hair on her arms stand up.

"You want to resign? Not only did you not apologize for what happened last night, but today, just because Francesca came to the company and liked your workstation, you're going to quit? When are you going to stop acting like a child?"

Anastasia didn't know how the news of her resignation spread so quickly, but she was more concerned about something else now.

"So, you called me up here to make me admit I was wrong?" Her voice was very low and calm.

It was so calm that it surprised Benedict a little, but he tapped the desk twice with his knuckles and said solemnly, "What else? Didn't I teach you to correct your mistakes?"

In a flash, Anastasia saw herself as a child.

Classmates cursed her for killing her parents, and relatives talked behind her back, calling her a burden.

She hid in the corner and sobbed. Benedict stood in front of her with an umbrella. He said, "Ana, it's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong, so you don't need to apologize."

But now, Francesca was clearly the one who lied, and yet, he was ordering her to apologize?

Anastasia twitched the corner of her mouth sarcastically, "I didn't push her, but if you want, let's just think of it as my fault. Anyway..."

"What?" Benedict asked, staring at Anastasia with an inquiring look.

He felt that she was hiding something.

However, Anastasia just blinked, "Anyway, the truth doesn't matter.

"If Mr. Vasquez has no other instructions, I'll leave first." With that, she stepped back and left.

Coincidentally, Jennifer delivered a stack of medical reports at the same time. She cautiously said, "Mr. Vasquez, the hospital called and said to pay close attention to Anastasia's condition."

"Get out!" Benedict was furious. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers, and a low growl escaped his thin lips, "There's no need to report anything about her to me in the future."

Jennifer flinched, feeling a chill run through her.

When Anastasia returned to the Vasquez's residence, still in a daze, Geraldine was making New York cheesecake. "Mr. Vasquez is coming home for dinner tonight. I remember both of you love this."

Is that so?

Anastasia frowned as she thought carefully, and slowly the memory returned to her.

Benedict's ancestral home was in New York, and New York cheesecake was a local specialty there. Anastasia remembered that when she was seventeen, she studied hard and even wrote down the recipe in a notebook. She actually made it and presented it to Benedict. Even though it was a disastrous dish, he was very cooperative and complimented her on her talent.

Anastasia stood in the kitchen for a short while. She went back upstairs, found the recipe, and made it with Geraldine.

The cheesecake was perfectly baked, its creamy, golden surface set against the crisp crumb crust. It was the absolute image of a classic New York cheesecake. Now that she had grown up, she was truly skillful.

But the exquisite dessert and carefully prepared dishes on the table remained untouched from evening until dark, and Benedict still hadn't returned.

Anastasia patiently took the dishes to the kitchen to reheat them repeatedly. Finally, she heard a commotion in the living room, "Mr. Vasquez, you're back. Ms. Monroe, please have a seat."

Anastasia accidentally burned her hand, and her heart gave a sudden wrench.

She looked into the mirror of the range hood and forced a smile.

Anastasia pulled herself together, maintained a smile, and once again set the reheated dishes on the table.

"Benny." She looked at Benedict with clear eyes, using her sleeve to hide the hand that was starting to blister.

She wanted to say hello, but before she could finish, Benedict's cold gaze swept over the food on the table, "We ate outside. Clear these away."

Francesca gently picked up a piece of New York cheesecake and put it in her mouth, immediately frowning, "Why is it a little bitter? What is this?"

Bitter?

How could that be?

She had followed the recipe and practiced repeatedly.

Besides, the cheesecake contained sugar and cream cheese. Where could the bitterness come from?

Anastasia was puzzled, but Benedict's eyes grew colder.

"It's probably been sitting out too long. Throw it away. If you want to eat it next time, I'll let her make you some to try."

Anastasia's breath momentarily hitched, but she said nothing.

Geraldine felt uneasy and was about to comfort her when she heard Benedict's voice, "Send a set of toiletries up."

"To the guest room, Mr. Vasquez?"

"My room."

Geraldine agreed and began preparing but looked slightly troubled, "It's getting late today. My grandson is waiting for me at home..."

"It's alright, I'll go." Anastasia took the toiletries set from Geraldine, took a deep breath, and walked to Benedict's main bedroom.

Through the door, Anastasia heard laughter inside, "Stop it. I haven't showered yet..."

Francesca's sweet, high-pitched voice was jarring. Anastasia's hand, poised to knock on the door, slightly paused.

Then, she heard Francesca ask, "She's beautiful. Do you really not have any feelings for her at all?"

Although the question was posed by Francesca to Benedict, it was also the answer Anastasia had desperately sought.

There was half a minute of silence in the room.

Finally, Benedict spoke, "No."

The word destroyed all of Anastasia's fantasies.

Surprisingly, she didn't feel very heartbroken.

"Then why do you take care of her?"

"It was her parents' dying wish."

The question and answer continued. Anastasia silently placed the items outside the door, then turned and left.

It turned out the affection she thought she was getting was merely him keeping his promise and fulfilling his duty as a guardian.

She returned to her room and stared blankly at the notebook. Her mind was filled with a thousand thoughts, yet she didn't know what to write down.

After a long time, there was a knock on the door. She went to open it.

It was Francesca.

She was wearing Benedict's shirt. The collar was wide open, and her long hair could not hide the bright hickeys on her collarbone.

Francesca scrutinized Anastasia's swollen eyes, "There are some things I want to talk to you about."

Without waiting for Anastasia's permission, Francesca brushed past her and walked directly into the room.

She looked around Anastasia's room, then sat on a single-seater couch, running her fingers over a porcelain figurine placed next to it.

"Your uncle is really good to you. He gave this to you, didn't he?"

Anastasia nodded. The porcelain figurine had been bought at an exhibition, she remembered. It was still covered by a glass display case and looked exquisitely crafted and stunningly lifelike.

Francesca withdrew her pretty hand and fiddled with her sparkling nails, "You should have heard him saying that he only cares for you out of obligation."

Anastasia nodded. Her calmness caused a hint of surprise to flash in Francesca's eyes, but she quickly chuckled, "If I were you, I'd fulfill his wish instead of being a burden to him."

"What are you trying to say?"

"What's the rush?" Francesca forced a smile. Then, she spread her fingers, and a diamond ring glittered brightly on her index finger.

Francesca spoke plainly, "Alzheimer's disease in the late stage means you'll forget many things, including the ability to take care of yourself. To put it bluntly, you might lose control of your bowels and bladder and not even know it."

Her secret was revealed so casually by Francesca.

Anastasia was stunned for a moment, "Does he know, too?"

"Yes. He asked me to come to you to let you save your last bit of dignity." Francesca took out her phone, opened a voice recording, and raised an eyebrow, "Do you want to hear his exact words?"

Her fingers moved quickly on the screen, but Anastasia's attention was fully on something else.

Noticing Anastasia's gaze, Francesca held the diamond ring on her ring finger right up to her face and smiled, "He proposed to me, and I'm still considering whether to accept. If you remain stubborn, won't I have to take care of you in the future?"

A scene suddenly flashed in Anastasia's mind. The day Benedict's company went public, he bought a ring at an auction. At the time, he was full of vigor, and he ruffled her hair, saying he would give it to the person he loved most in the future.

"There's no need to listen to the recording. I will leave as soon as possible." She stepped back, her tone distant.

Seeing that she was calmer and more composed than expected, Francesca raised an eyebrow.

As she stood up, she knocked over the porcelain figurine and said, "These useless things have wasted so much money. I expect you to pay all that money back."

Francesca left with a cold face. Anastasia stood still, watching the porcelain figurine shatter into pieces. Her emotions surged, then settled back into calm.

She should hurry up.

She called the auction house, "I am willing to sign the contract for the price we discussed before."

Her parents had left a lot of real estate that was supposed to be auctioned off, but she had no need for the money, so she kept delaying it.

Throughout the night, she barely slept, selling everything she could.

At daybreak, she signed the contract and completed the transfer of funds in one go.

Then, without stopping, she opened a bank account and deposited all the money into it to repay him for everything he had given her over the years.

The password was Benedict's birthday, but she wrote it down in a farewell letter and placed it in an envelope, afraid she might forget.

Downstairs at the company, Jennifer took the envelope from Anastasia, thinking it was her resignation letter. Regretfully, she asked, "Aren't you going up to see? The Vexel Group acquisition case is broadcasting live today."

Anastasia was wearing a jacket, her flawless skin slightly flushed, "I won't go. I wish you all the best."

She turned and got into a taxi. Without even having time to feel tired, she immediately contacted a nursing home abroad.

Looking up at the company building, Anastasia smiled helplessly, her vision blurred.

High in the sky, in the first-class cabin, Anastasia tightly clutched the sticky note in her hand, taking one last lingering look at the bustling city on the horizon.

Goodbye, to the city that held all her past.

Whether it was joy or pain, it was all over.

"Benny, wishing you a happy wedding in advance."