Chapter 460

Vincent surged forward, his voice thick with stubbornness. "No way! I remember-you were always smiling,always so full of joy!"

Flickers of hazy, warm memories flooded Vincent's mind-Hannah's head tilted back, eyes gleaming with light, her lips curved in a dazzling smile. Could all that happiness have been fake?

Hannah remained composed, her tone even. "Back then, I begged you to teach me fencing.If|1pulled a long face, wouldn't that have seemed ungrateful?"

Vincent's pupils contracted sharply, his long-held beliefs suddenly overturned, leaving him momentarily shaken. "You're saying all that joy back then was just an act?"

Hannah gave a slight nod, her voice devoid of warmth. "Pretty much so."

"Why?" Vincent's confusion spilled out. He seized her wrist, his grip tight enough to make her wince."If you weren't happy with practicing fencing with me, why did you keep clinging to me?"

Hannah didn't pull away; she simply met his gaze, her eyes deep and distant, as if seeing through him to the naive,stubborn girl she once was. Her voice softened, almost wistful."Because I loved you then. I wanted to be near you every single day."

The words hit Vincent like a blow to the chest. He saw her again-the girl who'd confessed to him. Once,she had been all sunlight and wild impulse, rushing headlong without a second thought-so different from the woman before him now, composed to the point of coldness.

His voice grew bitter. "If you loved me, shouldn't being with me have made you happy? Why do you say now that you weren't?"

Hannah's gaze lingered on him, a sharp pang of memory slicing through her heart. She looked away, her thoughts drifting. "Chasing you was draining. You were distant, never giving anything back, always leaving me to guess your thoughts. I was exhausted, and faking happiness became a burden. Thinking about it now

still feels heavy."

Self-reproach and regret surged, threatening to engulf Vincent. He released her wrist and stumbled back,his voice rough and fractured. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize."

Hannah shook her head slightly. "It's in the past. We've both moved on with our lives. That's for the bost."

"For the best?" Vincent's head whipped, a spark of defiance in his eyes as he starad at her."Do you rogret it?"

Hannah's brows knitted. "Regret what?"

Vincent's throat tightened as he forced the words out. "Regret chasing me?"

Her eyes met his, clear and unwavering. "I don't regret chasing you."

That was a Chapter of her life, one she'd written with fearless passion.

Vincent's heart gave a sudden jolt. She didn't regret ever chasing after him? Did that mean he still held a place in her heart? A spark of hope flared in his eyes. But her next words snuffed out that fragile hope completely.

Her voice remained steady, but it carried a chilling finality. "But I regret marrying you.If we hadn't married,we wouldn't have spent five years torturing each other."

Vincent's heart froze and then shattered. To her, their five years of marriage had been nothing but torment?He'd clung to the belief that there'd been moments of happiness, lowever fleeting.

A desperate thought struck him-could a child have changed things? He asked, his voice low, "If we'd had a child, would our life together still have been torment?"

At the word "child," Hannah's body stiffened, a fleeting shadow of deep pain crossing her eyes. It vanished quickly, replaced by a colder, resolute detachment. Her lips curved faintly, her gaze unyielding."We will never have children."

She'd lost their first child to a miscarriage, and afterward, her body could no longer carry one. How could they have had a child? Even if they had, she'd never have stayed with him just for a child's sake. "What do you mean?" Vincent frowned, his voice sharp. "No children? You don't want them?"

Before Hannah could respond, a voice interrupted."Anna, what are you two talking about?"

Claude stepped forward, his eyes narrowing at the weight in Vincent's expression as he positioned himself between them.

Hannah snapped back to the present. "It's nothing. Claude, let's go."

Without hesitation, she turned and headed toward the parking lot.

Claude followed close behind.

Vincent reached out instinctively, but his hand grasped only air.

Left alone, he stood in silence until the club manager approached. "Mr. Jones, I've had the customn-made sword wrapped. How should I deliver it to Ms. Scott?"

Vincent's face was bleak. "She's gone. It's too late now."