Chapter 1

On her eighteenth birthday, Cassia Shaw confessed her love to her guardian, Damian Blackwood.

That very night, Damian checked into a secluded monastery, vowing to renounce all worldly passions.

Seven years later, Cassia finally saw him return to secular life.

But an hour after his return, Damian announced his engagement and wedding date with her best friend.

Cassia finally gave up.

This time, it was her turn to seek refuge in a spiritual vow, to sever her ties to the mortal world.

The rest of her life would be dedicated to serving her country and its people.

…

“At nine a.m. today, Damian Blackwood, CEO of Blackwood Industries, announced a formal partnership with the VICTORIA Group. He credited the success of this collaboration to his muse, Ms. Vivienne Thorne…”

The newswoman’s voice echoed from the phone, sharp and alien in the silence of the Serenity Monastery.

Cassia turned off her phone, her gaze calm as she looked at the nun across from her. “Let’s begin, Sister Serenity.”

Her mother, now a sworn sister of the monastery, let out a soft sigh. “I know I shouldn’t meddle in worldly affairs, but Cassia, are you truly certain you want to take this vow?”

“Yes, I’ve made up my mind.” Cassia’s eyes were resolute. “I’ve also submitted my application. In two weeks, I’ll be returning to the Port Sterling Police Department to be sworn in, reactivating my father’s badge number.”

“This vow, becoming a lay-practitioner, it will help me focus. It will clear my mind, so I can be a good cop, like my father. Someone who serves the country and its people.”

Her mother sighed again. “I entrusted you to the Blackwood family precisely because I hoped you wouldn’t walk your father’s path.”

“But since your heart is set, the divine will support you…”

The ceremony began. Cassia knelt, holding a golden bowl shaped like a lotus leaf as her mother sprinkled dew from a Bodhi leaf onto her head.

“Once you take this vow and begin your spiritual practice, you can no longer be entangled in the love, hatred, and passions of the world.”

Cassia closed her eyes in devotion. “I am willing.”

The man she had loved for seven years… she was letting him go.

The ritual ended quickly.

Cassia didn’t leave immediately. Instead, she climbed the old Wishing Tree in the courtyard, found the small wooden heart she had once knelt up three thousand steps to ask for, and ripped it from its branch.

Her name and Damian’s were carved into it.

A love that should never have been deserved to be severed, and severed quickly.

Cassia’s hand tightened, and without another moment of hesitation, she tossed the wooden heart into the burning incense brazier.

As the wood cracked and split in the flames, she turned and walked away.

It was nine at night when she returned to the sprawling townhouse.

She hadn’t been back in the three days since Damian had announced his wedding.

In that short time, her world had been irrevocably altered.

So now, standing at her bedroom door, staring at the walls covered in love notes she had written to him, she felt a dizzying sense of detachment.

When she was ten, her father died in the line of duty. Her mother, broken by grief, had sought solace in the monastery.

The Shaw and Blackwood families were old friends. In her darkest, most terrifying hour, it was Damian who had stepped forward to take care of her.

The first time they met, he had burst into her world with an armful of pink plushies and sparkly princess dresses that seemed utterly alien to his own stern persona, a warm, bright smile cutting through her gloom.

“Don’t be afraid, Cassia. From now on, I’m your Uncle Damian, and this is your home.”

He took her riding on the open plains, to amusement parks where they screamed on rollercoasters, to the beach to collect seashells, to the Spring Festival to see the hills covered in wildflowers…

He did everything he could think of to lift her spirits.

He soothed her with a gentle, patient affection she’d never known. He supported her with his broad, steady shoulders. He helped her, piece by piece, to survive that agonizing time, and it was only because of him that Cassia slowly emerged from the long, suffocating shadow of her father’s death.

So, falling in love with him… it was the most natural thing in the world.

But her confession on her eighteenth birthday had shattered their world, plunging their relationship into an icy abyss.

At the time, Damian had said nothing. No scolding, no anger.

He simply went to the monastery, took his vows, and showed her with his actions that they were impossible.

Cassia tore the notes from the wall, one by one. Seven years. Some had yellowed with age.

After they were all gone, the walls were left with mottled scars of adhesive—like wounds that only grew more shocking and painful with time.

But beneath the scars, the flesh would eventually heal. It was only a matter of time.

Cassia gathered her thoughts, carried the box out of her room.

The next second, she collided with someone at the corner. The box fell, and the love notes scattered across the floor.

A familiar scent of sandalwood washed over her. Cassia froze, looking up. A tall man stood against the light, his eyes a deep, waveless pool, his handsome face a mask of ascetic control.

Cassia felt a surge of awkwardness. Since that day seven years ago, Damian had rarely come home.

They hadn’t spoken in a long, long time.

What was she supposed to say?

Cassia’s lips parted, just about to call him “Uncle.”

But Damian spoke first. His eyes landed on the scattered notes, and his brow furrowed in a deep, angry line. “Cassia, I’m getting married. What the hell are you trying to pull now?”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to try and steal your best friend’s fiancé?”

The words hit her like a physical blow. She understood he had misunderstood.

But that phrase, “your best friend’s fiancé,” was a dagger that stole her voice, leaving her unable to explain.

Damian’s fiancée, Vivienne Thorne, was her best friend.

She didn’t even know when they had met. The moment he renounced his vows, he had announced their love to the world.

Cassia forced down a bitter taste in her throat and shook her head. “No, it’s not…”

Damian didn’t even listen. He turned and walked away.

Cassia watched his back until it disappeared, then slowly knelt to pick up the notes, one by one.

She carried them into the courtyard and burned them.

Finally, she pulled the sandalwood prayer beads from her wrist—the ones Damian had personally prayed for fifteen years ago—and threw them into the fire as well.