The Heiress's Vindication: He Chose the Damsel in Distress, But Now He Regrets It Chapter 2

Lily had changed a lot.

I remembered the first time I saw her. It was the second semester of our sophomore year when she transferred to our prep school.

Back then, she stood at the front of the classroom wearing a faded uniform. She was so thin she looked malnourished, the clothes hanging loosely off her frame. Her features were plain and unremarkable, and her face was painted with awkward, nervous tension.

Our homeroom teacher, however, smiled brightly. "This is Lily Evans, who consistently ranks at the very top of the statewide standardized tests. Let's make her feel welcome."

A silence fell over the room as countless assessing gazes landed on Lily. We were at an elite, ultra-exclusive private academy. Everyone came from old money or massive wealth. Grades were absolutely not the only ticket to acceptance here—let alone someone with Lily's unrefined, shabby appearance.

I felt a bit of pity for her at the time, so I smiled and was the first to start clapping. Only then did scattered applause ripple through the classroom, eventually growing until it filled the room.

The teacher shot me a grateful smile, pointed at me, and told Lily, "That's our class president, Claire Sterling. If you need any help, you can go to her."

Despite the teacher's words, Lily never once came to me for help.

When Lily transferred in, the only empty desk was the one next to Preston Harrington. So, Lily became Preston's desk-mate.

I don't know if the feelings that eventually betrayed me started budding right there.

For example, because Lily's family was so poor, she suffered from severe hypoglycemia and anemia. Once, during morning study hall, she suddenly fainted. It was Preston who scooped her up and carried her to the nurse's office.

Another time, Preston's mother came back from a trip to Belgium and brought a mountain of gifts for both me and Preston. When she told me to pick first, Preston, who was standing nearby, grabbed a box of artisanal chocolates and said, "I'll take this box of candy."

I was confused at the time because Preston despised anything sweet, and I had never known him to have a sudden fondness for chocolate. Later, he even asked me for my private chef's pastry recipes. I thought it was too much of a hassle, so I just had my chef bake the pastries and sent them directly to him.

Back then, I genuinely thought Preston's palate had just changed.

It wasn't until later, when I saw the artisanal chocolate wrappers and the pastries my chef had made sitting on Lily's desk, that it clicked.

The one who loved chocolate was Lily. The one who loved sweet pastries was Lily.

I convinced myself that it was just Preston's way of looking out for his struggling desk-mate—even though Preston had never been the kind, meddlesome type to go out of his way to "save" anyone.

Truthfully, it wasn't that I never had suspicions. It was just that Lily was so incredibly plain that I never entertained the thought that Preston would betray me and fall for her.

After all, I was exceptional. I was the prettiest girl in the entire academy. Back when Gossip Girl was at the peak of its popularity, people affectionately gave me the nickname "Queen C." Not because I was a schemer, but because I had the perfect family, perfect grades, and perfect popularity.

How could I have possibly imagined that Preston Harrington would betray me and fall for Lily Evans?

She walked over and offered a polite smile, greeting me, "Claire, you're back?"

After speaking, her eyes shifted hesitantly between me and Preston. The probing, suspicious nature of her gaze made me deeply uncomfortable, and I frowned slightly in displeasure.

Preston spoke first, his tone freezing cold: "What are you doing here?"

Lily carefully gauged his mood, her smile turning into a pathetic, fawning attempt to please him. "I was out shopping. The club owner mentioned you and your friends were hosting a welcome-home party for Claire here today, so I thought I'd wait and we could go home together."

The excuse was full of holes.

She then held up the shopping bag in her hand to show Preston. "The manager here heard I was in the lobby, so he specially brought over two bottles of wine. He said it was a token of respect for Mr. and Mrs. Harrington."

She heavily emphasized the words "Mrs. Harrington," as if trying to assert her territory. Preston, who had already been looking cold, furrowed his brows in deep irritation at those words.

Behind me, I heard a friend fail to stifle a quiet snort of laughter.

Given the Harrington family's status, let alone a mere floor manager, even the owner of this ultra-exclusive club would have to book an appointment half a month in advance just to get a meeting with Preston. Yet here she was, the wife of Preston Harrington, treating two bottles of wine from a manager like a rare treasure, presenting them to him like an offering.

It was undeniably tacky and completely beneath their social standing.

It was obvious that humiliating incidents like this had happened many, many times over the year and a half Lily had been married to Preston.

Because Preston's voice was filled with sheer impatience, completely devoid of any politeness: "Didn't I tell you to stay at home? Why are you out here embarrassing me?"

Behind me, someone laughed out loud.

Lily's already pale face instantly turned paper-white. She looked at Preston in total panic.

She had no idea why Preston had suddenly snapped, nor did she know what she had done wrong.

No one explained the reason to her, and no one taught her how to act.

Everyone was just laughing at her lack of class and unrefined behavior.

I, however, was quite surprised by Preston's reaction. I instinctively turned to look at him. His face was stoic, completely unmoved by the suppressed laughter of the crowd, as if the person being openly mocked wasn't the wife he had sacrificed so much to marry.

I froze for a second. He... didn't used to be like this.

Back then, because she didn't fit in, Lily had faced her fair share of collective ostracization in class. Later, when Preston demanded to break our engagement for her, I had bullied Lily too.

But every single time, Preston would step right in front of Lily, taking her side and protecting her fiercely.

Yet now, standing here looking down at the woman in front of him, his expression was icy, and deep within his eyes was a barely concealed layer of exhaustion and impatience.

He was like a completely different person from the boy he used to be.

How could he be disgusted by Lily?

Had he forgotten exactly what he put me through just to defend her?