You Soaked the Moon in Your Tears

Tracey Cox loves fairness more than anything.

So every time she took up with a new guy, she'd make a point of sending a college girl my way too.

The first time, I was so furious I smashed everything in the house to pieces.

Tracey didn't stop me.

She stood by the door, watching coldly, and only went back to her room once I'd collapsed on the floor, worn out.

She left me alone to face the wreckage all over the ground.

Then came the second time, the third time... countless times.

I went from breaking down to going numb, until at last I could calmly tell those women who tried to cling to me for a shortcut that I'm not like Tracey.

I wouldn't dirty myself just to get revenge on the person I loved.

Until she brought home a different kind of boy.

The new kid was gentle and well-behaved, hiding behind Tracey and looking at me timidly.

Tracey said with a teasing lilt, "Paddy just got out of the hospital. He'll be recuperating here, so take good care of him."

"Of course, I've already got your payment ready. This year's campus belle and valedictorian from Capital Universityshe's more than enough for you."

I nodded indifferently, pulled out the debit card I'd prepared in advance, and got ready to send the girl off the way I always did.

Until I looked up, and froze on the spot.

Because the woman standing in front of me was the one I'd loved in secret for ten years, my white moonlightPriscilla Cooley.

01

In an instant, my heart hammered like a drum.

Time seemed to have frozen on Priscilla Cooley's face.

She looked exactly the way she had six years ago when we parted, not changed at all, if anything even more fresh-faced.

I wanted to ask her why she was here.

I wanted to ask her why she'd transformed herself into this year's campus belle and valedictorian at Capital University.

But the words reached my lips and I couldn't get a single one out.

All I could hear was my own heartbeat, pounding louder and louder.

It was the first time Tracey had seen me lose my composure. Her pretty, almond eyes narrowed slightly, moved between my face and Priscilla's, and then she let out a sudden sneer. "Allan Dudley, I never took you for someone with a taste like this."

In Tracey's eyes, Priscilla looked astonishingly shabby.

A wrinkled plaid shirt on top, jeans washed pale, plus a pair of old canvas sneakers gone yellow, hair hanging loose and messy, her eyes dark and deepthe whole of her gloomy and downcast.

Tracey couldn't understand why I'd be staring, stunned, at someone like that.

She lifted her chin at Priscilla and gave a lofty order. "Go on, do a good job pleasing your sugar daddy."

Priscilla didn't move.

She pressed her lips together and clenched her fists, as if she'd been dealt some terrible humiliation.

Watching her, I felt a little disoriented.

Priscilla had a terrible temper. Anyone who crossed her, she'd pay them back right then and thereshe'd never swallow it like this.

Could it be that the person in front of me wasn't Priscilla?

But could there really be two people in the world who looked exactly alike?

While I stood there confused, Tracey ran out of patience.

She folded her arms, walked around behind Priscilla, and kicked her in the small of the back.

The kick sent Priscilla stumbling, and she nearly fell.

On instinct I rushed over and caught her.

Priscilla fell right into my arms, burying her face against my shoulder, her whole body trembling and unable to stop.

This, I thought, definitely wasn't Priscilla.

Priscilla was proud and strong. She'd never once been this fragile.

The wild excitement in my heart cooled, and I took the card out again and held it out to her.

Before the woman in front of me could say a word, Tracey laughed first, mocking.

"Allan Dudley, what's the point of playing the innocent for so long? Back when you were doing everything you could to crawl into my bed, weren't you wilder than anyone?"

I was long used to Tracey's vicious tongue, so I didn't even glance at her. I calmly said to this person who looked so much like Priscilla, "There's five hundred thousand in here. Take it and go."

The woman across from me trembled her lashes, reached out with long, sharp-knuckled fingers, and rested them lightly on the card.

My pupils suddenly shrank!

She had a small mole on her index finger.

Exactly like Priscilla Cooley.

She was Priscilla Cooley!

My heart churned in an instant, and even my fingertips couldn't stop trembling.

I was afraid that if Priscilla really took this debit card, I'd never see her again.

And I also genuinely hoped Priscilla would take this debit card. She must have run into some kind of trouble, to pretend to be the valedictorian college student and come to the Cox family.

Better to take the money and leave, so she wouldn't be humiliated by Tracey Cox again.

But Priscilla did neither.

Her fingers slid slowly along the debit card to the back of my hand, and finally her whole hand closed around my wrist and pulled hard.

Caught off guard, I stumbled a step forward and fell right onto Priscilla.

Priscilla wrapped her arms around my shoulders, and her low, husky voice sounded in my ear: "Big brother, I don't want money. I only want to be with you."

My heart pounded wildly.

She wasn't the first to say that.

Tracey Cox and every person she'd sent over had said itas long as I would accept them, it was a million dollars a time, with no upper limit.

So those people pulled out every trick they had.

Blunt seduction, coy temptation, sweet talk, playing hard to getthey had it all.

But all of it together couldn't compare to that one sentence from Priscilla.

It made me drop my armor and collapse in an instant.

By the time I came to my senses, I'd already answered, "Okay."

Before Priscilla could even react, Tracey Cox's smile faded first. Her gaze at me turned heavy, her thin lips pressed into a tight line.

She seemed unaware of her own expression, until Paddy Walker spoke up, his eyes red: "Tracey, you're hurting me."

Only then did Tracey Cox realize she'd been gripping Paddy's arm so hard it had bruised.

In an instant, her thoughts snapped back into place, and the gloom in her eyes turned into that familiar sneer as she said to me, "Allan Dudley, so you finally can't keep up the act."

I couldn't be bothered to deal with her at all, and just took Priscilla straight out the door.

I went to the hospital first, worried that the kick from Tracey Cox might have left some injury on Priscilla.

Once I was sure she was fine, I took her straight to the mall.

Priscilla had delicate skin; if the fabric of her clothes was even slightly rough, she'd break out in a rash all over.

I took her shopping for a long time before we finally headed home loaded with bags.

The moment I opened the door, I saw Paddy Walker sitting on the sofa, wearing my pajamas.

His eyes reddened as soon as he saw me, and he stood up timidly: "Big brother, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wear your clothes."

"I'm clumsy and accidentally broke the vase in the living room and got my clothes wet, so Tracey gave me big brother's clothes to wear..."

I looked over at the shelf in the living room.

Whether it was provocation or she'd genuinely forgotten to clean it up, the broken vase was still where it lay.

Porcelain shards were scattered everywhere, just like my true heart.

I thought I should feel sad.

This vase had been a gift from Tracey Cox when we first got married.

A Song Dynasty Longquan celadon interlocking-neck vase, which Tracey Cox had won at an overseas auction for thirty-six million dollars.

When a reporter asked her why she'd paid such a high price for the antique, Tracey Cox smiled into the camera: "To take home for my husband, to hold the flowers he likes."

From then on, everyone knew how passionate Tracey Cox's love for me was.

But I simply couldn't summon the slightest energy to be angry. I could even calmly say to Paddy, "It's just a vase. Broken is broken."

The words had barely left my mouth when I heard the sound of a phone dropping onto the floor not far away.

I looked up and saw Tracey Cox standing on the stairs.

Tracey Cox's two lovely eyebrows knit together, and her pretty, almond-shaped eyes were full of anger.

The moment she opened her mouth, it was to interrogate me: "Allan Dudley, Paddy was just borrowing your clothes, why do you have to give him such a hard time?"

Thank goodness. I'd actually thought Tracey was angry because I didn't care about this pretty face.

After all, even when we were fighting our worst and I smashed the whole house to pieces, I never had the heart to lay a finger on this pretty face.

I breathed a sigh of relief and said to Tracey, "I'm not giving Paddy a hard time. My walk-in closet is always open to himhe can take whatever he likes."

Tracey's expression turned even uglier. She clenched her jaw, then suddenly strode over to Paddy, took his hand, and said to me viciously, "Allan Dudley, do you think anyone wants your things? Paddy got hurt for me. Of course I'll give him the best!"

With that, she told the driver to bring the car around, and on the way she contacted the sales associates at all the major luxury boutiques.

I wasn't the least bit surprised.

To have stayed married to Tracey this long, we did have quite a few things in common.

For instance, we both loved dressing up the people we cared about.

We used to dress each other up; now I dress up Priscilla, and she dresses up Paddy.

Seeing that I stayed unmoved, Tracey got even angrier.

She gripped Paddy's hand and turned to leave, completely oblivious to the fact that Paddy couldn't keep up with her and stumbled several times.

I didn't have the attention to spare for her, either. I turned back, took Priscilla's hand, and asked, "Are you hungry?"

Priscilla shook her head.

I looked at her and started to speak, then stopped.

I had so many questions I wanted to ask Priscilla, but I didn't know how to begin.

I was afraid of dredging up her painful memories, and afraid, too, that she wouldn't want to tell me anything.

Maybe everyone gets this nervous and sensitive in front of the person they love.

As if she'd read my thoughts, Priscilla, who had followed silently behind me all day, spoke up on her own.

In a hoarse voice she called out, "Big brother, I'm thirsty."

Priscilla really was younger than me, but only by fifteen days.

We'd grown up together as childhood sweethearts, and she never once called me big brotherinstead she'd forced me to call her big sister.

Her voice made my face flush and my heart pound. I forgot the questions entirely and said, as if fleeing, "I'll go get you a glass of water."

Once I got to the tea room, it took me a while to calm down. I patted my own cheeks, then carried the freshly brewed tea back to Priscilla.

She cradled the cup, head bowed, drinking. Her long lashes cast a shadow across her cheeks, and she looked so sweet.

I had the housekeeper cook a separate meal just for her.

Priscilla seemed to have something on her mind, and she ate very little.

I figured she was tired, so I set her up in a guest room, hoping she'd rest early. Just as I was about to leave, Priscilla suddenly caught my finger.

Her dark eyes stared at me without blinking as she whispered, "Big brother, stay with me."

After she said it, she even nuzzled the back of my hand with her head.

I really couldn't resist temptation like that.

I stayed with Priscilla until she fell asleep, then tiptoed away.

I didn't go back to my own roomI went to the kitchen instead.

Priscilla had eaten so little in the afternoon that I was worried she'd be hungry if she woke up in the night, so I made her a late-night snack.

I'd just finished cooking and was about to carry the food to Priscilla's room when I turned around and found Tracey. She'd come back at some point and was standing outside the kitchen, and there was no telling how long she'd been watching.

I jumped, and the words came out before I could stop them. "Why are you back?"

Tracey scoffed. "What? Afraid I'd interrupt your good time with the college girl?"

I didn't know how to answer that.

Sometimes Tracey found being home too dull, and she'd take some young guy out for the night, staying away for days at a time.

I assumed this would be one of those times.

Luckily, Tracey didn't press the question. Instead her eyes went to the plate I was holding.

She spoke up suddenly. "Allan, I don't think I've ever eaten anything you cooked."

I drew my hand back.

She must have caught my reluctance, because she deliberately stepped forward and took the plate right out of my hands.

She settled gracefully at the dining table and began to eat, slow and unhurried.

I was getting irritated, and finally I couldn't help saying, "Tracey, that wasn't made for you."

Tracey acted as if she hadn't heard.

When she finished, she dropped the chopsticks, picked up a napkin to wipe her mouth, and let one word fall from her bright red lips. "Awful."

Looking at the plate she'd eaten completely clean, I almost laughed out of sheer anger.

I threw out a line. "If you think it's so awful, tell Paddy to cook for you."

Then I turned and headed back to my room.

I'd barely reached the door when, of all things, Tracey came after me. She shoved me against the wall, her fingers slipping under the hem of my shirt, and said in a husky voice, "Allan, let's have a baby."

Goosebumps shot up all over my body.

It wasn't the charged mood that did it. It was fear.

Ever since what happened on our first wedding anniversary, Tracey had never let me touch her again.

She thought I was dirty.

I'd tried a few times, unwilling to accept it, to seduce her.

The first time, she photographed me and posted it in the guys' group chat, so everyone saw me at my most humiliating.

For a while after that, I didn't even dare to leave the house.

The last time, she took me to a club and told me that if I was short on women, I could go sell myself. I knelt and begged her, crying until my face was a mess, and only then did she let it go.

After that, I never dared cross the line again.

So when Tracey came close, I assumed she'd thought up some new way to torment me, and I quickly pulled away.

Tracey looked a little displeased. She leaned in anyway and kissed me on the lips.

A faint smell of alcohol spread between our lips, and only then did I realize Tracey was drunk.

Tracey had a terrible tolerance. One drink and she was gone.

In all the years we'd been together, the only time she'd ever drunk was the day we got married.

So she really did like Paddy. She could drop every last defense in front of him and get drunk without a care in the world.

Something sour spread through my chest, but my voice stayed gentle as I coaxed her. "Tracey, you've got the wrong person. Let me go, okay?"

Tracey tilted her head. She was always agreeable when she was drunk, and she quickly let go of my hand.

I'd just breathed a sigh of relief, before I could even get another word out, when Tracey wrapped an arm around my waist, kicked the bedroom door open, and pushed me inside.

I heard her laugh quietly. "Allan, I know you put the college girl I found for you in the guest room and didn't sleep with her. You only kept her to spite me, didn't you?"

"No, I kept her because"

I never got to finish. Tracey's kisses came down over me like a flood, until I couldn't make a sound.

Terrified, I struggled with everything I had, and by accident my hand hit the light switch on the wall.

The pitch-black room blazed with light all at once. I squinted, and once my eyes adjusted, I saw what was on the bed and froze where I stood.

Priscilla sat quietly at the head of the bed, hugging a pillow.

Her long hair hid her dark, misty eyes, so I couldn't read her expression.

And on her lap, Paddy lay sleeping soundly.

I didn't understand why Priscilla was tangled up with Paddy, but on instinct I reached out and covered Tracey's eyes.

She liked Paddy so muchI was afraid of what she might do to Priscilla if she saw this.

But I'd overestimated my own strength. Tracey seized my wrist and pushed my hand aside without effort.

She'd sobered up almost completely, and for the first time those ever-smiling, almond-shaped eyes held no trace of a smile.

She looked at Priscilla, her voice cold as ice. "Who exactly are you?"