The Lancaster family had long been cursed—every man born into the family would die before the age of thirty. The only way to break the curse was to marry a woman from my clan.
But on the day Adrian Lancaster and I were supposed to be married, he tore up our engagement contract in front of everyone—for the sake of his “true love.”
Ignoring the desperate persuasion of the Lancaster elders, he glared at me with naked hatred and said coldly,
“Serena Whitmore, you’re nothing but a greedy liar who lusts after wealth and status! Your clan has been scamming the Lancasters for nearly a hundred years—taking our money and our trust. But it ends with my generation. Your good days are over!”
Vivian Snow linked her arm through Adrian’s and looked at me with a mocking smile.
“What are you standing there for? Get lost already.”
“With me—a medical PhD—by Adrian’s side, forget thirty years old. He could live to a hundred and thirty.”
I thought of the faint, nearly undetectable pulse I had felt in Adrian’s wrist that very morning.
A cold laugh rose silently in my heart.
Fine.
On the day of your thirtieth birthday, we’ll see who’s right.
And that day… was very close.
I turned to leave, but Margaret Lancaster suddenly stepped forward and grabbed my hand.
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