Gwen stared dazedly at the man.

Zion, dressed in a black coat, stood tall in the study, exuding an oppressive aura. He walked toward her and pulled the teary-eyed girl, her face streaked like a little tabby cat, into his arms.

One hand gently smoothed her hair as his voice softened to the extreme, "Still saying you didn’t cry."

Gwen leaned against his shoulder, mumbling, "You did it on purpose."

"Are you at least a little touched?"

She pounded on him twice more in response.

Zion chuckled lowly, letting the girl vent while his heart ached silently.

These past five years had been filled with fear and uncertainty for him. He had been afraid that before he could make a name for himself, Gwen would fall for someone else. If that happened, what could he possibly use to ask her to come back to him?

The love story of a poor boy and a rich girl might've existed in novels, but the reality was often harsh.

Gwen didn’t care, but he couldn’t bear to let her endure hardship.

Now, as they