Chapter 1

After another three-day cold war with my architect girlfriend over the wedding budget, I found a familiar facade drawing in her pile of discarded drafts.

The date in the lower right corner of the drawing was long before we started fighting over the future home project.

My fingers tingled as I held the drawing.

I knew that drawing too well. Every ratio, every line, I had gone over them again and again over the past six months.

And now, the client line clearly showed the logo of a rival company.

I pulled out my phone and searched that company’s recent work, and the second the page loaded, it felt like someone had punched me in the stomach.

"Cloud Isle Resort Villas — the perfect fusion of modern architecture and natural scenery"

On the promo image, that signature building matched the house Mia and I had designed by ninety percent.

Only the materials were more high-end, the landscaping more luxurious, and the completion date showed it had been finished four months ago.

The comments section was full of praise:

[Designer Mia Reed’s masterpiece!]

[This is what a building with real warmth looks like.]

[I heard this project won her the Rising Star Award.]

I exited the page and stared at the award wall in the studio. The Rising Star Award certificate hung right in the center, and the award date was three months ago.

Back then, she had been rubbing her temples and telling me, "Ethan, the bidding pressure has been crazy lately. I probably won’t have much energy to keep an eye on the renovation. Should we put the house project on hold for now?"

I believed her.

I even felt sorry for her and told her the renovation could wait, that her health came first.

How ridiculous.

I heard the sound of a key turning at the door. I quickly shoved the drawing back under the pile of discarded drafts, and when I turned around, I already had my usual tired look from the past week on my face.

Mia Reed pushed the door open and came in with two takeout bags in her hands.

"Still mad?" She set the bags on the table and softened her voice. "I brought you that Japanese food you like."

I said nothing.

She walked over and hugged me from behind, resting her cheek against my back. "I’m sorry. I was too stubborn about the wedding budget. But I just wanted a perfect wedding. Is that so wrong?"

If this had been three days ago, that hug would have softened me.

Now all I felt was a chill crawling up my spine.

"Mia," I heard myself say, calm in a way that scared even me, "the Cloud Isle project you won last year, where did the original design inspiration come from?"

Her body froze.

It was only half a second, but I felt it.

"Why are you asking that all of a sudden?" She let go and moved around to face me, a flicker of unnaturalness flashing in her eyes. "It was just... inspiration. You know how creative work is..."

"Weren’t we talking one night about what kind of house we’d build if we ever had money?" I cut her off. "I said I wanted a glass house where you could see the whole starry sky, and you said we should plant a tree inside it so the building and nature could grow together."

Her expression slowly changed.

"We had a few drinks that night and talked until three in the morning," I went on. "I even drew a rough sketch, and you laughed and said it looked like a kid’s doodle, then took the pen and changed it."

"The next day, you told me the paper got spilled on by coffee by accident and was thrown away."

Mia’s lips parted slightly, then closed again.

She stepped back half a pace, and that tiny movement was like a knife finally stabbing through the last bit of fantasy I had left.

"It was just a coincidence," she finally said, her voice dry. "Design concepts overlap all the time..."

"Even down to the hidden door in the bathroom?" I asked. "Even down to the exact curve of the second-floor master bedroom balcony?"

The studio was so quiet you could hear the air coming out of the central AC.

Mia stared at me. In those beautiful eyes I had kissed countless times, shock and panic were now churning.

"You went through my stuff?"