Mr. Lewis's Fated Love

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On a bustling city afternoon, waves of heat mixed with car exhaust rolled through the streets.

Sunlight pierced through the gaps in the sycamore tree leaves, weaving scattered patches of light on the windowsill of an old apartment building, like a sprinkle of crushed gold.

Reagan Lynn sat in the wicker chair by the window, the rattan's texture pressing into her palm.

Her fingertips traced the cool glass, and beyond the window, the bustling traffic blurred into flowing patches of color, indistinct as an unfocused camera.

She possessed a pair of mystic eyes.

These eyes could see the red threads entwined around people's fingertipsthose destined fated loves woven by fate itself.

In her past life, it was these very eyes that deceived her into trusting the false red thread at Frank Lewis's fingertips.

That red thread looked vivid and bright, but to the touch, it was like a water-soaked cotton threadfragile and ready to snap at any pull.

She married him, turning her dowry into seed capital to help him establish his footing in the Lewis Family.

She stayed up late studying reports, drank with clients, and lifted him from the despised Mr. Frank to the head of the Lewis Group.

In return, she received his coldness as he embraced his new lover.

She was dragged by his men into the red-light district; the sharp pain piercing her heart was excruciating. In the moment her vision blurred with blood, she saw him standing at the alley's entrance, smoking, his eyes looking at her like she was a dead dog.

When consciousness returned, the tip of her nose was filled with the musty scent of old sheets mingled with the warm fragrance of sunlight.

She suddenly sat up, the calendar on the bedside table circled in red pen on a date three years ago the day she had yet to accept Madam Lewis's marriage proposal.

Reborn.

Reagan Lynn closed her eyes, her eyelashes still wet with tears that hadn't dried.

When she opened them again, the warmth in her eyes had completely faded, leaving only a frozen chill.

In this life, she would never repeat the same mistakes.

The doorbell rang abruptly, like a stone thrown against glass.

Reagan Lynn rose to open the door, and in the shadow of the doorframe stood Madam Lewis, her makeup impeccable.

"Reagan," Madam Lewis wore a courteous smile, her suit sharply tailored at the shoulders, "come with me to the Lewis Family's estate and help Frank examine his fated love."

Her tone was so familiar it brooked no refusal, as if her time were more precious than gold.

Reagan Lynn stepped aside to let her enter the room. The old sofa in the living room had been bathed in sunlight, exuding a faint scent of cotton and linen.

She brought over a cup of warm water, the glass walls beaded with tiny droplets, and placed it on the tea table before Madam Lewis.

"Madam Lewis," Reagan lowered her eyelids, her long lashes casting soft shadows beneath her eyes, "Mr. Frank's destiny is noble; I truly cannot discern his fated love."

The voice was as light as a feather, yet carried an undeniable distance.

Madam Lewis's smile froze instantly, like a wax figure trapped in ice.

Her hand holding the cup tightened, knuckles whitening. "What do you mean?"

She raised her voice, her gaze like an ice-forged blade sweeping over Reagan Lynn. "Last time you said Frank's fated love was within reachso who bribed you now to deliberately brush me off?"

The scent of perfume shifted with the mood, growing somewhat sharp.

A bitter smile stirred in Reagan Lynn's heart.

In her past life, it was the phrase, "So close before her eyes," that caused her to fall headlong into Frank Lewis's trap, breaking her utterly.

"My ability is limited." Her tone was calm, without the slightest trace of defense.

There was no point in saying more; she no longer wished to be entangled with this family.

The air felt like solidified cement, pressing down so heavily it was hard to breathe.

Madam Lewis's face shifted from red to blue, then from blue to white, like a palette overturned.

At that moment, footsteps sounded outside the door, the crisp tapping of leather shoes on the floor.

"Mom, what are you arguing about?" A man's deep voice cut through the air.

Frank Lewis walked in, his tailored suit accentuating his upright posture.

Yet in his eyes lay a faint, almost imperceptible arrogance, like a peacock spreading its tail, unable to resist flaunting its feathers.

Behind him followed a woman in a white dress, her belly slightly swollen, the hem stretched tight.

It was Sunny Edwards.

"Frank, you've come at just the right time." Madam Lewis rose to greet him, her gaze sweeping over Sunny's belly, her brows knitting into a frown. "And who might this be?"

"Her name is Sunny Edwards." Frank Lewis draped his arm over Sunny Edwards' shoulder, the strength in his gesture carrying a tone of claiming ownership. "She is carrying my child, and this child will help me inherit the family legacy."

His tone was resolute, as if reading an imperial edict.

Madam Lewis was stunned, instinctively glancing at Sunny's belly, her fingers unconsciously stroking the metal clasp of her handbag. "But her identity..."

"Mother, this is destiny." Frank Lewis interrupted her, his gaze shifting toward the door. "I have invited Master Hugo; he can bear witness."

A monk in a gray robe entered, dust clinging to his kasaya.

He clasped his hands together and chanted a Buddhist mantra: "Amitabha, the child in this lady's womb truly bears the mark of a prosperous master, one who can help Mr. Frank solidify his fortune."

His voice was slow and gentle, as if afraid to disturb something delicate.

Madam Lewis hesitated for a moment, but in the end, she nodded, suppressing the unwillingness etched on her face.

In the Lewis Family, power always outweighs pride.

Reagan Lynn stood aside like an outsider, quietly observing everything.

Her mystic eye saw clearly that the Red Thread of Fate at Frank Lewis's fingertips was as fragile as a thin veil, trembling with the slightest breeze.

But at Sunny Edwards' fingertips, there was no thread connecting to him at all.

Bare and desolate, as if deliberately severed by someone.

This farce was nothing more than a mutually beneficial deception.

She could even see the fleeting calculation in Sunny Edwards' eyes, like a snake lurking in the shadows.

More importantly, she felt that the faint, almost imperceptible thread between herself and Frank Lewis was completely severed at that moment.

As if cut by an invisible pair of scissors, leaving not even a trace of warmth behind.

Her chest suddenly felt light, as if a thousand-pound burden had been lifted.

The marriage between Frank Lewis and Sunny Edwards was arranged swiftly, like a project rushed to meet a deadline.

When the Lewis Family's gilded invitation arrived, Reagan Lynn was sorting through old books, her fingertips dusted with the powdery pages.

She tore open the invitation; the names on the red paper pricked her eyes like a sharp sting.

As she casually tossed it into the trash bin, she heard the faint rustle of paper scraping against the bin's wall, like a sigh.

At last, she could completely extricate herself from the whirlpool of the Lewis Family.

She exhaled in relief, walked to the window, and watched the hurried passersby belowtheir faces marked by the weariness of life, yet warmed by a quiet sense of steadiness.

A calmness settled in her heart, like the surface of a lake after the rain.

However, this tranquility did not last long.

A week later, an elderly man dressed in a black suit appeared at her doorstep.

It was Old Mr. Lewis, the true head of the Lewis Family, his hair gray but meticulously combed, his gaze sharp like an eagle's.

"Ms. Lynn," Old Mr. Lewis's voice was aged yet powerful, carrying the authority forged by years, "I would like to ask you for a favor."

He stood at the door, refraining from entering rashly, embodying an old-fashioned sense of propriety.

Reagan Lynn invited him inside and poured him a cup of hot tea, the tea leaves slowly unfurling in the water.

"Old Mr. Lewis, please speak."

"Help me find a suitable fated love match for my eldest son, Caleb Lewis." Old Mr. Lewis took a sip of tea, the steam blurring his brows and eyes, his voice carrying a subtle, barely perceptible plea, "He has a cold temperament, and though he is no longer young, he has no one close by his side."

Reagan Lynn's heart stirred gently, as if brushed by a feather.

Caleb Lewis.

This name lingered in her mind, accompanied by a vague shadow.

In her previous life, she knew very little about the eldest son of the Lewis Family, only remembering that he always stood silently in the corner, his gaze cold, as if the world had nothing to do with him.

It wasn't long before Caleb Lewis arrived.

He wore a simple black shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing wrists with smooth lines and cool-toned pale skin.

His features were deep-set, his contours sharp and cold, as if meticulously carved by a blade.

His eyes were like a cold pool, devoid of warmth, yet they unsettled anyone who met their gaze.

Reagan Lynn's mystic eye instinctively glanced toward his fingertips.

At that sight, she was stunned.

Caleb Lewis's fingertips were empty, without a single Red Thread of Fate entwined.

So pure it was unbelievable, as if cut off from fate itself.

Moreover, a faint black aura hovered around him, barely perceptible.

That was the fate of the Heavenly Calamity Solitary Star destined to live a lonely life, bringing misfortune to kin and friends.

Reagan Lynn lifted her head and met Caleb Lewis's gaze.

A strange sense of familiarity surged within her heart, as if she had seen him many times beforein dreams, in some forgotten moment.

"How is it?" Old Mr. Lewis asked anxiously, his fingers gripping the cane tightly.

Reagan Lynn withdrew her gaze and softly said, "Mr. Caleb's fate is unique; his fated love is likely difficult to find."

Regret tinged her voice; she had never encountered such a solitary and absolute destiny.

"Is there truly no way?" Old Mr. Lewis's voice darkened, as if all his strength had been drained.

Reagan hesitated for a moment, her fingertips curling unconsciously.

She recalled the tears from her past life.

Grandmother had said her tears were 'tears of sincerity,' capable of washing away misfortune and rewriting a fragile fate.

Perhaps it was worth a try.

That afternoon, Reagan Lynn took Caleb Lewis to the Matchmaker God's Temple on the outskirts of the city.

The temple was small, its red walls weathered and mottled, yet the incense burned thickly; the smoke mingled with the scent of ash, stinging her nose with a sour sharpness.

She knelt before the statue of the Matchmaker God, the meditation cushion hard and unyielding beneath her.

Closing her eyes, she recalled the blessing of rebirth, her heart beating fast yet steady.

Remembering the pain of her past life, the chill of betrayal crept up from her feet.

Tears slowly slid down, falling onto the green bricks before her, leaving small damp stains.

Warm tears dripped onto Caleb Lewis's hand.

Like snow melting the moment it touches the fire.

At that moment, a mocking voice rang out, like shattered glass scraping against iron: "Caleb, do you really believe this liar's words?"

Frank Lewis appeared at the temple gate unnoticed, a sneer curling at the corner of his mouth, his suit trousers sharply creased. "A Heavenly Calamity Solitary Star is just thata Heavenly Calamity Solitary Star. Don't ever expect to have a wife or children in this life. Just settle down as a lonely man."

Reagan Lynn's tears froze in place, like droplets caught in ice.

She lifted her head and glared at him, the chill in her eyes nearly spilling over.

Frank Lewis didn't even look at her, only fixed his gaze on Caleb Lewis: "Dad told you to handle the company's affairs, yet you keep making excuses. And now you suddenly have time to seek a match? I think you simply don't want to live a proper life."

The jealousy in his tone was like an unhidden needle, sharp and painful.

Caleb Lewis's expression remained unchanged; he merely cast a faint glance at Frank: "It's none of your concern."

His voice was low but carried an unmistakable aloofness.

"How is this any of my business?" Frank Lewis stepped forward, lowering his voice, his breath heavy with the scent of alcohol. "If you stay single, everything in the Lewis Family will sooner or later be mine."

Reagan Lynn met Frank Lewis's greedy gaze, like a starving wolf eyeing a plump piece of meat.

A cold shiver ran through her heart; she knew that look all too well.

She knew Frank Lewis would not let this go easily.

Sure enough, the very next morning, the neighbors' eyes toward her had changed.

"Have you heard? That Reagan Lynn is a fraud, someone who tricks wealthy people out of their money." Ms. Clark returned from buying groceries, standing in the hallway and speaking loudly, the plastic bags in her hands swaying.

"Isn't that right? Just yesterday, she tried to deceive Mr. Caleb of the Lewis Family, only to be exposed on the spot by Mr. Frank." Ms. Lee leaned in, lowering her voice but deliberately making sure passersby could hear.

"Shameless, so young yet so wayward..." Mr. Wilson shook his head, walking past with his hands behind his back, his eyes full of disdain.

Rumors spread wildly like weeds, overtaking the entire hallway overnight.

Reagan Lynn stood at her doorstep, listening to the whispers, clenching her fists tightly, her nails digging into her palms, the pain keeping her clear-headed.

This is Frank Lewis's way.

To secure his position, he would not hesitate to destroy others' reputations, as casually as crushing an ant.

The rumors grew ever more rampant, like spilled dirty water that could never be taken back.

Someone began throwing garbage at Reagan Lynn's doorstep; rotten vegetable leaves and plastic bags piled up, emitting a sour stench.

They hurled stones at her window, spiderweb-like cracks spreading across the glass, creaking whenever the wind blew.

When she went out to buy things, people would point and whisper.

Someone deliberately bumped into her, spat out the word "liar," then quickly walked away as if she were something filthy.

Reagan Lynn tried her best not to go out, locking herself inside her home.

But trouble, like a shark sensing the scent of blood, still came knocking at her door.

That afternoon, a group of neighbors blocked the entrance to her house.

Leading them was a stout woman, holding a broom with fierce determination, her apron stained with flour.

"Reagan Lynn, come out!" the stout woman pounded on the door, making the wooden panels vibrate. "Hand over the money you swindled from the Lewis Family, or we'll smash your house!"

The door was being slammed with loud bangs, and the shouting outside grew louder, surging like a tide.

Reagan Lynn crouched behind the door, her back pressed against the cold wooden panel, her heart pounding wildly as if it would burst through her ribs.

She knew these people had been incited by Frank Lewis.

He always managed to find those who wanted to take advantage and loved to stir up trouble, using them as his blades.

Just as the door was about to be broken down, the noise outside suddenly fell silent.

So quiet that she could hear her own heartbeat.

Then, a cold, piercing voice cut through the air like an ice pick: "What are you all gathered here for?"

It was Caleb Lewis.

Reagan Lynn exhaled in relief, the strength in her back instantly drained, almost causing her to slide down to the ground.

She hurriedly opened the door.

Caleb Lewis stood before the crowd, his figure tall and upright like a pine tree, his cold gaze sweeping over everyone, carrying an invisible pressure.

The neighbors were intimidated by his presence, each lowering their heads like frostbitten eggplants, too afraid to speak.

"Leave." Caleb Lewis spoke only one word, his voice soft yet carrying an irresistible command.

The crowd scattered like birds and beasts in an instant, their footsteps fading chaotically into the distance.

Before leaving, the stout aunt shot Reagan Lynn a fierce glare, as if to carve her image into her memory.