We had been college sweethearts, inseparable. I was that girl who believed in fairy tales, who thought love would conquer anything. And Oliver? He was charming, ambitious, brimming with dreams bigger than life. He didn’t have much then—just ideas, notebooks filled with sketches of businesses that never quite took off.
But I believed in him. I believed so much that when Father left me my inheritance, I gave it all to Oliver. Every last cent of my estate went into his hands. I told myself it was an investment in our future, in the family we were going to build.
And he did build something. A company. A name. A life.
I could still remember the night I gave him the inheritance money.
We were in his cramped apartment, nothing but second-hand furniture and cheap instant noodles on the table. Oliver looked at me as though I’d just handed him the world when I slid the envelope across.
“Candice…” his voice trembled. “What is this?”
“It’s mine,” I said softly. “Father left it for me. But I want you to have it. For your company. For your dreams.”