Chapter 11 The Ring

Startled, I whipped around to face him.

He lifted his left hand, revealing the simple silver band on his ring finger.

It was made of inexpensive material, nothing exceptional in its craftsmanship.

Despite that, it dazzled brilliantly under the lights thanks to its owner's careful maintenance.

That ring yanked me back into memories from four years ago.

That day was supposed to be Lucas's nineteenth birthday.

Throughout his first eighteen years, every birthday was a lavish and extravagant affair, bustling with excitement.

But this time, it was just him and me, down on our luck.

To cheer him up, I squeezed in a couple of days of work around my thesis revisions.

With the twenty bucks I made, I bought a pair of cheap matching rings.

Once home, I grabbed his hand and slipped one on his finger.

Lucas couldn't see it, but I knew he could feel it. His ears turned red as he tried to play it cool.

"What's this?" he asked.

I teased him, "Saw a couple having a fight on the street; they were throwing stuff, so I waited around and snagged this ring. Hope you don't mind."

He cleared his throat, wary of my joking, and clutched the simple silver band close to his chest, " I don't care if it was found; I still like it."

"Because it's from you."

He meant it, every word.

From then on, even in our most intimate moments, he’d be wearing that ring.

He’d whisper, feels like love, doesn't it?

"Relax a little, the ring might pinch you."

It was only in those moments that he'd show a glimmer of his Young Executive arrogance and uninhibited pride...

Snapped back to reality, Lucas was closing in on me. "Say something, Madeline Thompson."

"There's nothing to say," I muttered, gripping the hem of my dress.

"Mr. Xavier must be mistaken; isn't that ring the token of engagement Miss Zimmerman gave to you?"

He scoffed, "I never mentioned where this ring came from, how do you know so much about it?"

As he spoke, he was already standing right in front of me. So close, there was no avoiding it.

Whispers floated up from the audience below. "What does Mr. Xavier mean, that the person who helped him through his tough times was that little journalist?"

"And what about Nicole?"

"Come to think of it, they do resemble each other..."

Nicole’s eyes blazed with hatred as she looked at me, yet she softened her voice to appease Lucas, "Lucas, don't be fooled by her, she's always been full of lies, with a history to prove it..."

I closed my eyes, stifled the turmoil inside, and when I opened them again, I faced him with a calm gaze. "Yes, it was me."

"I pretended to be Nicole for money and deceived you for two years."

"Afterwards, I took the money and left; I'd forgotten all about it."

"Since from the start you believed her to be Nicole, and now you're engaged to her, what's the point of correcting it now?"

I couldn't go on. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I took a few deep breaths.

Dropping the mic, I prepared to leave.

In a swift turn, my wrist was suddenly clasped.

The warmth from his palm seared against my skin, a burning familiarity.

His voice, a low resonance, hummed with significance.

"...It means everything," he said.

"You once told me, as long as I wore the ring you gave me, you'd recognize me anywhere."
I asked, "Does that promise still stand?"

My eyelashes fluttered, reflecting the intensity of my emotions.

Lowering my gaze, I let my feeling sink into my voice and buried them deep in my throat.

Gently, I pried his fingers open, withdrawing my hand.

When I looked up again, my expression was indifferent.

"I forgot," I said coolly.