Chapter 2 Memories of a Lost Love

The cabin was silent except for the rhythmic breathing of a sleeping child. Alicia had finally drifted off, curled up under the thin blanket, her small frame rising and falling peacefully.

Charles sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, his gaze lingering on his daughter. She looked so much like her mother—those same big, expressive eyes, the same stubborn pout. A ghost of a smile touched his lips before it faded into something more somber.

Slowly, he stood up and walked toward the wooden drawer in the corner of the room. The floorboards creaked under his weight, but he didn't care. With a deep sigh, he pulled the drawer open, revealing a small pile of old, dust-covered photographs and a silver ring tucked away in the corner.

He hesitated before picking up one of the pictures. The dust clung to his fingers as he wiped it away, revealing the frozen image of a young man and a beautiful woman. Their smiles were radiant despite their modest wedding; there was no grand hall, no extravagant decor—just two people deeply in love.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as his fingers traced the woman's face.

"Oh… Dorothy…" he whispered, his voice cracking.

His grip on the picture tightened as memories flooded his mind.

"You promised… You promised you'd always be there." His voice trembled, and he let out a soft, broken laugh.

"Guess what? She asked about you again today."

His laughter was tinged with sorrow as he shook his head. "You know… she reminds me of you. Her boldness, her stubbornness… the way she stands her ground—it's like I'm with you all over again." He smiled, though his eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Anyone watching him at that moment would think he was talking to a ghost.

He swallowed hard, his thumb running over the faded edges of the picture. "The day you died… I wanted to die with you. But I remembered—I had Alicia. She needed me."

His eyes drifted toward the unopened letter tucked inside the drawer.

"I never read your letter. I know it's been ten years now, but it still feels like yesterday. I'll read it when I'm ready."

Bringing the picture to his lips, he pressed a gentle kiss to it before placing it back in the drawer. With a deep breath, he locked it and stepped outside, the cool night air embracing him.

He and Dorothy used to do this—sneak out late at night, sit under the stars, and just talk.

Tilting his head back, he gazed up at the dark sky, then, without thinking, he began to sing softly:

"Only know you've been high when you're feeling low…"

"Only hate the road when you're missing home…"

"Only know you love her when you let her go…"

The melody drifted into the night, carrying his longing with it.

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Flashback to 2010 – Seoul, South Korea

The sixth floor of an opulent corporate skyscraper loomed over the city, its glass walls reflecting the neon glow of downtown Seoul. Inside, the atmosphere was suffocatingly tense.

The office was massive, decorated with rich mahogany furniture, a towering bookshelf lined with business law books, and an expensive crystal chandelier hanging above a sleek, polished desk.

Seated behind the desk was a man in his early fifties, Mr. Ethan Sinclair. His sharp, calculating eyes moved between the two figures standing before him.

His daughter, Dorothy, stood tall despite the tension. She had soft brown curls cascading over her shoulders, and her delicate yet determined features made her look both elegant and rebellious at the same time. Dressed in a simple beige blouse and a skirt, she exuded grace—but there was fire in her eyes.

Beside her stood a young man, tall and broad-shouldered. His jet-black hair was slightly disheveled, his sharp jawline clenched tightly. He wasn't dressed in a suit like her father expected—just a black button-up and dark jeans—but despite his simple clothing, there was something commanding about his presence. His deep brown eyes didn't waver, even under the scrutiny of Mr. Ethan Sinclair.

The atmosphere was thick with unspoken hostility.

Dorothy, sensing the storm brewing, shifted nervously.

"Uh… Dad?" She spoke hesitantly.

Ethan's eyes finally settled on his daughter, his expression softening slightly. "Yes, Dothy, darling?"

Dorothy swallowed and took a deep breath. "This is Charles—the guy I told you about."

Ethan's gaze flickered to Charles for a brief moment before returning to his daughter. His expression didn't change.

"So… this is him?" His tone was unreadable, but there was a glint of disapproval in his eyes.

Dorothy nodded. "Yes, Dad. I love him, and… he loves me too."

She reached out and took Charles's hand. He squeezed it reassuringly.

Ethan's expression hardened in an instant. He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the marble floor.

"Dorothy." His voice was low, dangerous.

Dorothy flinched, but she didn't back down.

Ethan's glare shifted toward Charles, and for the first time, he took in the young man standing before him. Charles was undeniably handsome—strong features, a confident stance. A man any woman would fall for.

But he was poor.

And in Ethan's world, that made him nothing.

"I have always wanted the best for you, Dorothy. And now, you want to be with a nobody? A man who can't even take care of himself?" His voice rose, filled with disgust.

Charles remained still, his jaw tightening, but he didn't flinch under the older man's scrutiny.

Ethan pointed a harsh finger at him. "Get out of my office this instant!"

Dorothy's breath hitched. "Dad, no! You can't—"

"And as for you, Dorothy," Ethan interrupted coldly, "you are grounded. You will be locked in this house for two months. No phone. No laptop. No contact with him."

Dorothy's heart pounded. "You can't do this!"

"Watch me."

Charles finally moved. Slowly, he stepped forward, his deep brown eyes locking onto Ethan's.

"No, sir. You can't do this."

For the first time, Ethan truly looked at him. There was something dangerous in the young man's eyes—not fear, not submission, but defiance.

Ethan scoffed, shaking his head. "You have no power here, boy."

Charles took another step forward, his expression unwavering. "I may not have power, but I have love. And that's more than you'll ever understand."

Ethan's jaw clenched. "You think love is enough? Love doesn't pay bills. Love doesn't put food on the table. My daughter deserves a life of security, not one of struggle."

Dorothy turned to her father, pleading. "Dad, I don't care about wealth! I just—"

"Enough!" Ethan slammed his hand on the desk. "You are not to see him again!"

Dorothy's eyes filled with tears, and Charles clenched his fists.

But he knew.

Ethan Sinclair would never let him be with her.

Not without a fight.

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