He picked it up, feeling an inexplicable sense of familiarity, yet he couldn't recall its significance. The personalized inscription on the back froze him in place, as if struck by a heavy blow. A moment later, he remembered. This blank wish card was something he had given away as a token of thanks when he was a teenager, promising that whoever held the card could exchange it for anything he could give. But as he grew up, he had long forgotten this part of his youth.
These were his thoughts; the one he truly cared for had always been Frida. Clint's chest heaved violently, emotions crashing inside him, desperate for an outlet. He took out his phone and called Frida, but, as before, the call didn't go through. Clint slumped into a chair, his strength draining away.
Of course. She was married now. With Andre's ruthless and domineering nature, he would never allow her to contact him. Frida must have married Andre out of a moment of anger; by now, she must regret it. Andre was unpredictable and cruel—how could he possibly treat her well? There was still a chance. If Clint could find her, sincerely apologize, and humble himself, she would surely soften. She would definitely come back to him.
(The section "Act Fast: Free Bonus Time is Running Out!" is unrelated and should be removed.)
On our honeymoon, Andre and I stayed in our room for most of the trip, not wanting to go out. Andre couldn't walk, but in bed, he was far more capable than any ordinary man. Throughout the honeymoon, he hardly gave me a moment's rest.
Life after marriage was more comfortable than I imagined. Andre held a high position in the Koch family. With him backing me up, everyone in the family treated me with respect and courtesy. Even Andre's parents never gave me a hard time. Andre's father was semi-retired, spending most of the year traveling the world with his wife. Even when they returned to Washington, they didn't live with us. In two months of marriage, I only met Andre's parents twice. Andre's father was a stern-looking man of few words, so most of my interaction was with his mother. She was talkative and warm, making our conversations lively and enjoyable. I could tell she genuinely liked me, not just because of Andre.
Andre arranged for my younger siblings to visit me during their holidays, and even Draven didn't dare interfere anymore. Jewelry, off-season designer clothes, and other luxuries were constantly delivered to our home for me to choose from. As an ordinary woman, I couldn't resist the allure of beautiful clothes and jewelry. With Andre's encouragement, I picked up painting again. When my friends came to visit, they all remarked on how amazing I looked. We went shopping, had afternoon tea, and my friend shared plenty of gossip from New York.
My marriage to Andre caused quite a stir. "They thought you'd stay by Clint's side no matter what, but instead, you turned around and got married," my friend said, clearly amused. "And to Andre, no less!" "He's practically Washington's uncrowned king. Clint doesn't even compare!" Even with Andre's disability, marrying into his family was no small feat. My friend smirked, "Now they're all dumbfounded." "Some even maliciously speculated that your life after marriage would be miserable." "They said Andre's disability must make him bitter and twisted, and you're probably being abused every day. If they knew how well you're living now, I bet they'd be burning!"
As for Clint, after his parents forced him to return home, the first thing he did was break up with Rachel. Rachel didn't take it well and caused a scene twice. The result? Clint repossessed all the cars and jewelry, and froze her accounts. Unable to stay in New York, Rachel left overnight. Clint's assistant, Antolin, was also fired.
When my friend noticed I wasn't interested in these updates, she changed the subject with a sly smile. "Frida, you're glowing these days. Andre must be treating you very well!" Thinking of Andre, I couldn't help but smile. But before I could respond, I heard someone call my name. To my surprise, it was Clint. He had somehow followed my friend's trail to Washington. I immediately signaled the bodyguards to stop him. Clint looked thinner, his handsome face slightly haggard. He was blocked by the bodyguards but still wouldn't give up. "Frida, I just want to talk to you." "There's nothing to talk about." I stood up, motioning for my friend to leave with me. "Frida, I know you married Andre just to spite me." He sounded desperate. (The final sentence is incomplete and unclear.)