Chapter 4 Parting Ways

After collecting the money, Juniper grabbed her violin and wearily made her way to the private room's doorway.

Magnus didn't glance her way, simply tilting back his head to down a glass of champagne in one gulp before coldly reminding Juniper, "Also, Miss Beaumont, the silver ring you're wearing around your neck, it's an eyesore."

Rooted to the spot by the doorway and with her back to Magnus, Juniper subconsciously lifted a hand to the simple silver ring hanging on a chain around her neck, a token from a matching set Magnus had bought six years ago. Though inexpensive, Juniper had always treasured it like a priceless gem.

"I've grown used to it, this ring," she said firmly. "You gave it to me six years ago, so it's mine. As it's my property, whether I wear it or not is none of Mr. Blackwood's concern, right?"

After all, it was a gift from the Magnus of six years past, the one who used to dote on her, cherishing her every whim.

She secretly clung to that small fragment of a happier past, even though that memory was sharp enough to lacerate her heart during the long nights.

But stubbornly, Juniper wanted to indulge in this one act of defiance.

Her obstinacy seemed to ignite a fury in Magnus.

"Get out."

Juniper left.

The glass in the man's hand shattered with a loud crash, his grip intense.

The rich scent of spilled champagne mixed with the crimson blood dripping from his palm to the floor, drop by drop.

Both Robert and Michael were taken aback, having not anticipated Juniper's mere presence to stir such a tempest in Magnus.

"Magnus, it's my fault tonight, a lapse in judgment!" Michael admitted under the dim light, as Magnus stared indifferently at the beads of blood falling from his hand, a crimson-edged scoff escaping his lips: "This is your idea of a surprise? Dull."

"I'm sorry, it was my oversight."

Though close friends with Magnus, Michael knew his place; Magnus was still his boss. Over the years, Magnus had become more enigmatic, his moods ever elusive, and sometimes even Michael hesitated to cross him.

"Don't presume to take liberties again, especially when it comes to Juniper."

So when Magnus spoke, Michael listened.

After all, it was a personal matter between Magnus and Juniper, and not one easily meddled with by outsiders.

Robert watched Magnus's retreating figure, slinging an arm over Michael's shoulder he said, "Michael, you're usually sharp as a tack. What got into you tonight to drop the ball?"

"I thought after six years, Magnus would've moved on. Back in the day, they were the talk of NYU—a match made in heaven. I just didn't want Magnus to live in bitterness forever. Over these years, he's not only drifted apart from Juniper, but he's grown distant from us too."

Robert scoffed playfully, "That's Magnus for you, ice on the outside, fire within, and a man of few words. But tell me something, how did Juniper end up singing here of all places?"

"A month ago, Magnus had someone tip off Imperial Capital TV, and out of nowhere, Juniper was canned. She was the star of her broadcasting and hosting major back then. It's cruel, isn't it? To cut off her path so abruptly?"

"Man, you're starting to feel sorry for Juniper! Michael, you're not falling for her charm, are you? Careful there, getting tangled up with that disaster could land you in a cell!"

Michael grabbed his suit jacket, ready to leave, "I'm not after my brother's girl."

"Then quit singing Juniper's praises! Don't forget for a second the hell Magnus has been through because of her!"

Michael nodded, "I remember."

The worst of it was when Magnus was stabbed in prison, a mere inch from his heart. He nearly died.

...

Juniper couldn't recall how she stumbled home in a daze.

Throwing up several times on the way seemed to help.

Passing by a pharmacy, she bought hangover remedy and allergy pills and swallowed them.

By the time she made it home, the rash on her skin had subsided, but the smell of alcohol clung to her, impossible to mask.

The lights were still on in the house.

Dropping her bag and putting on her slippers, Jennifer didn't run out to run into her arms as usual.

"Jennifer?"

No answer, could she be sleeping?

Juniper walked into the bedroom and immediately saw Jennifer curled up on the bed, face pale, struggling to breathe.

Juniper's heart skipped a beat as she rushed over, "Jennifer, what's wrong?"

"Mommy...I feel sick... My chest hurts..." The child's voice was frail and powerless.

"Mommy's going to take you to the hospital now, Jennifer, just hang in there!"

Juniper immediately called for an ambulance, scooped Jennifer into her arms, and dashed downstairs.

The skies had turned somber, unleashing a heavy rain in the dead of night.

With the ambulance not yet in sight, Juniper, frantic, shouldered Jennifer and desperately tried to hail a cab amidst the racing traffic.

Jennifer whimpered in agony, "Mommy, am I going to die? It hurts so much..."

Tears streaming down her face, Juniper sobbed, "No, my love, you have to be strong! Mommy's taking you to the hospital right away! Stay awake, just a bit longer! Jennifer..."

But the child was unresponsive.

With one arm cradling her daughter, Juniper tried to flag down cars, "Someone stop! Please, my child is unconscious! She needs immediate medical attention!"

"Please, stop! Take us to the hospital! Save my daughter..."

But amidst the heavy rainfall, the passing vehicles hesitated to halt.

As she turned with her daughter in her arms, a black Maybach sliced through the curtain of rain, its tires spraying Juniper with muddy water.

Instinctively, she raised her hand to shield them.

Tears merged with rain, leaving her drenched and muddy.

...

Inside the black Maybach, the assistant driver glanced in the rearview mirror.

He had caught sight of a young mother in the pouring rain, desperately seeking help for her child.

Joseph, the assistant, was moved by the scene, turning to his boss, "Mr. Blackwood, there's a mother and child back there trying to flag down cars. The kid seems sick. With this downpour, shouldn't we offer them a ride?"

The man in the back seat, Magnus, had an ice-cold demeanor, showing no trace of sentiment.

"Compassion is the very thing we should avoid."

His implication was clear: do not meddle.

Magnus, six years ago, harbored compassion, but today, a great tide of hatred had consumed the man he once was.

Meanwhile, the ambulance arrived.

Juniper quickly boarded the vehicle.

The black Maybach accelerated into the distance, with Magnus unconsciously furrowing his brows and glancing back.

But the white ambulance had already vanished into the misty veil of rain.

It must be an illusion, he thought; there was no way that could be Juniper.

The man looked down, his gaze lingering on a silver ring between his fingers, his emotions turbulent and unsettled.

The white ambulance and the black Maybach, one heading north, one south, slowly drifting apart.

Magnus was a changed man, unrecognizable from the person he had been six years prior.