Chapter 1
Daniel walked into the bar and saw him. Michael Goodman, a 26-year-old handsome and successful businessman, the CEO of Black Wood, sat in a chair in a blue suit, a glass of whiskey in his hand.
Daniel patted him on the shoulder.
“Hey, Mike! I saw Tiffany yesterday with a guy at Chloe’s party! I thought you were together. What happened?”
Michael’s left forefinger tapped against the table. The glass reflected his sharp jawline, hard as a blade. He was a shark in the dark waters of the business world. Although he had inherited his fortune from his father, he had long surpassed him in power and influence.
“Wait—what? Daniel, are you sure you saw Tiffany with another guy?”
Michael glanced at his watch. It was a green Rolex; one he had worn since college. College—those were the days when he had met both Tiffany and Evelyn. In the end, he had chosen Tiffany not because she was prettier, but because of her fame and family.
Tiffany Vassur, twenty-five, the daughter of the Vassur family.
“Let me call Tiffany…”
Michael frowned slightly.
“Hey, Tiffany. Were you with another guy yesterday at the party?”
Tiffany laughed.
“Oh, honey, don’t be silly. Who told you that?”
“Daniel.”
Tiffany raised her voice. “Why do you believe him? Come on, Michael, I’m your girlfriend. He’s just your friend. An average friend.”
Michael wanted to hang up. Daniel Redmount was his best friend. He drained his glass of whiskey and spoke clearly.
“Tiffany, Daniel was at Chloe’s party yesterday.”
Tiffany twirled a lock of hair around her finger, as if it meant nothing.
“Oh? Then what? Michael, are you going to break up with me?”
Michael took a breath.
“Yes.”
“Fuck you, Michael! I won’t accept that!” Tiffany snapped.
Michael’s voice was cold as ice.
“Tiffany, you’re the one who cheated on me. We’re done.”
Then he hung up the phone.
“Are you okay, Mike?” Daniel asked.
“I’m fine… Maybe I should have listened to you in the first place. I miss Evelyn. She would never have done this to me. Tiffany is a bitch.”
“Come on, man. Evelyn was a nice girl. She was beautiful, with long brown hair and bright eyes—smart, too. She was way better than Tiffany. But you chose fame. That’s what you got.”
Michael tapped the glass again.
“If I called Evelyn…,would she come back?”
Daniel hesitated. “Hard to say, Mike. She might’ve already moved on.”
Michael shook his head.
“She wouldn’t.”
When Evelyn saw the number, she laughed and let it ring.
Evelyn Green, twenty-six, was an art teacher at a private institution. She was passionate about art and teaching, and she loved her job and her life.
Her routine was simple: work,cats,museums,bookstores, and travel.
She had just bought a house in Nice for vacations. The skies were always beautiful there, the sea blue, and the sunshine constant. It was an absolutely perfect place, and she loved it.
She didn’t need the drama—only the life she loved.
Michael was confused.
Was she at work? Dating someone? Why hadn’t she picked up the phone? The questions crawled over him like ants. He had always believed Evelyn liked him enough that he could call her anytime—and she would come back.What was going on? Was she playing some kind of game? He hated the thought, but he sounded like a jerk. There was no way she would refuse him.
The phone kept ringing, then Evelyn tapped decline.
Everything went quiet.
The next morning, Michael showed up at Evelyn’s school with a bouquet of red roses. He wanted to surprise her, but he didn’t know where she lived anymore. Chloe had only told him that Evelyn worked at Green Forest University.
Evelyn stepped outside, glanced at the flowers, and showed no surprise at all.
“I don’t know him. Please ask him to leave,” she said calmly to the security guard.
Michael didn’t even get a chance to speak. Within seconds, the security guard escorted him out of the building.
That afternoon, Tiffany found him.
She slapped him before he could say a word.
“I’m the Vassur,” she snapped. “Who do you think you are, dumping me whenever you feel like it?”
“You cheated on me!” Michael shouted. “And now you’re blaming me?”
Tiffany laughed.
“Oh, please. You slept with Melina,” she said lightly. “I didn’t break up with you then, did I?”
Michael stood there, silent, the sting on his cheek burning.
For the first time, he understood that something had ended.
Not just a relationship—but the illusion that he was the one who always got to choose.
After being escorted out of the school, Michael didn’t give up. He told himself it wasn’t over—not yet. Evelyn had always been quiet, always reasonable. She wouldn’t really shut him out without hearing him explain.
Still, a small, uncomfortable thought crept into his mind.Maybe he had underestimated her.Not her feelings—but her independence.
When he finally tracked down her itinerary, it stunned him. Evelyn had already flown to Nice.
Nice.
He booked the next flight without hesitation.
The moment Michael arrived, he realized how out of place he was. The streets were narrow and unfamiliar, the conversations around him flowing in a language he didn’t understand. French signs blurred together, menus filled with words he couldn’t pronounce.
At a café near the coast, he tried to order coffee.
“One… uh… coffee,” he said, gesturing awkwardly.
The waiter frowned. “Monsieur?”
Michael repeated himself, louder this time, as if volume might replace vocabulary. The people at the next table exchanged amused glances. Someone laughed quietly.
His face burned.
This was ridiculous. He closed billion-dollar deals without translators, commanded entire rooms with a single look—yet here, he couldn’t even order a drink.
When he finally spotted Evelyn days later, she was walking along the seaside promenade, sunglasses on, a light dress fluttering in the breeze. She looked relaxed. Unbothered. As if nothing in the world required her attention.
He stepped forward instinctively.
“Evelyn,” he called out.
She paused. Turned. Her expression didn’t change.
“Michael,” she said politely, as if greeting an acquaintance.
That was when it truly hit him.
She hadn’t cometo Nice to escape him.
She had come because this was simply where she wanted to be.
And for the first time, Michael understood that following her across the ocean didn’t mean he still had a place in her life.
It only meant he was standing in a country where she belonged—
and he didn’t.
Michael stood there for a long moment, watching her walk away. The sea glittered under the afternoon sun, and laughter drifted through the air from nearby cafés. Everything felt slow, unhurried—untouched by his presence.
He realized then how little space he occupied in her world now. She wasn’t running from him, wasn’t proving anything. She was simply living, moving forward without looking back.
For the first time, Michael felt truly irrelevant.
Nice didn’t reject him.
It just didn’t notice him at all.
He lowered his gaze, flowers wilting in his grip, and finally understood the truth he’d avoided: love was not a door he could force open, no matter how far he followed her anymore.
