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Her stepsister stole her husband, just like her stepmother had once stolen her father. After learning she had stomach cancer, she found a way to get her husband to sign the divorce agreement. Thirty days later, they met again at a global technology conference. The arrogant man who had once looked down on her stood before her with bloodshot eyes. He desperately begged for another chance. Her brothers broke down in tears and pleaded for forgiveness. She simply turned around and walked away. ===== Stage II adenocarcinoma. The doctor slid the medical report across the polished mahogany desk. The diagnosis printed in black against the white page looked less like medical information and more like a death sentence. Roselyn Hudson watched the doctor's mouth move, yet none of his words seemed to reach her. Above them, the fluorescent lights hummed without pause, the sound pounding against her head. Breathing became difficult. The air around her felt scarce. Sweat gathered at the back of her neck before tracing a path down her spine. No tears came. Instead, she dug her nails into her palm until half-moon marks appeared in her skin, but even then, she felt nothing. What are the odds? Roselyn asked in an even voice. The doctor seemed taken aback by how calm she sounded. Patiently, he explained the treatments available to her. Targeted therapy. The possibility of surgery. The difficult months waiting ahead. Without any change in expression, Roselyn listened and nodded. Not long afterward, she left the hospital. As soon as the heavy glass door closed behind her, the strength left her legs. Down the cold tiled wall of the hallway she sank until her knees met the floor. The report remained locked against her ch**t. A sudden knot tightened in her stomach, and the tumor inside her made itself known again. Suddenly, her phone vibrated inside her purse. Her shaking fingers reached for it. The message was from her husband, Adrian Riley. Don't wait for me tonight. I have a business meeting. The text carried the same distance and indifference she had come to expect. As the successor of Riley Group, Adrian stood at the center of the city's largest real estate empire. For the past three years, Roselyn had quietly filled the role of the quiet wife behind him. She had given up a future in AI medical research. She had taken care of his home. She had tolerated the ridicule of the people around him. Through it all, she had loved him. Earlier that morning, however, a sweet unfamiliar perfume had lingered on his collar. Not long after that, his phone screen had lit up with a message from someone saved under a single name. Emma. Emma Hudson. Emma was Roselyn's half-sister. She was the daughter born from their father's af**ir with Sophia Grant. Sophia had once destroyed Roselyn's mother's marriage. Now it seemed the same story was beginning all over again. With those innocent eyes and that soft voice of hers, Emma had ended up in Adrian's bed. Roselyn's eyes remained fixed on the message. Another wave of pain tore through her stomach, spreading through her like fire. One tear slipped free. She brushed it away and her expression turned cold. Then she unlocked her phone and searched for two things. The rules for dividing assets after a divorce and the price of targeted treatment for stomach cancer. Forty minutes later, her car rolled into the garage at the Riley estate. Adrian's Aston Martin wasn't there. Good. He wasn't at home. Without hesitation, she headed for Adrian's study. The room carried the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with leather. Her destination was the safe concealed behind a painting. The code wasn't difficult to remember. It was Adrian's birthday. A click sounded from the lock. From inside, Roselyn removed a thick stack of contracts related to an acquisition Adrian was preparing for. After that, she located their prenuptial agreement. Carrying it to the shredder, she fed the document through one page at a time. Once it was gone, she printed a standard divorce agreement and carefully completed the asset division section using the information she had just researched. Afterward, she made a copy of the cancer diagnosis. The divorce agreement and medical report were then slipped into the middle of the contract stack. Next, she picked up her phone and called Jenifer Riley. Jenifer was Adrian's mother. She was also the person who controlled the Riley family's finances. For as long as Roselyn could remember, Jenifer had looked down on her and considered her nothing more than a woman after the Riley family's money. What do you want? Jenifer asked. Impatience filled her voice. Mrs. Riley, Roselyn said evenly. "I'm calling about my divorce with Adrian. I need him to sign the agreement tonight, and we need to discuss the settlement." Silence followed on the other end. A moment later, a quiet laugh escaped Jenifer. In her eyes, Roselyn had finally accepted reality and realized she would never truly fit into the Riley family. So you're finally showing your true colors, Jenifer said in a clipped tone. "Come to my place tomorrow morning. I'll handle everything from there." I'll be there, Roselyn replied before ending the call. Her eyes drifted to the documents spread across the table. A faint, bitter smile appeared on her lips. Only after midnight did the front door open. Loosening his tie, Adrian stepped into the living room. The scent of al**hol lingered on him, mixed with that familiar perfume. Roselyn remained seated on the couch. The stack of papers rested on the coffee table between them. Why haven't you gone to bed yet? Adrian asked with a frown as he ran a hand through his hair. There wasn't a trace of guilt on his face. What showed instead was irritation. These need your signature, Roselyn said as she pushed the documents toward him. "Your mother said they were related to the acquisition and needed to be handled right away." A long sigh escaped Adrian. He was well aware that his mother and Roselyn had never gotten along. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a pen and opened the thick file. Inside her ch**t, Roselyn's heart pounded relentlessly. Outwardly, however, she showed nothing. Using one finger, she indicated the last page. Sign here, and here. Tired and convinced Roselyn knew nothing about corporate matters, Adrian didn't waste time looking through the hundreds of pages. His signature quickly landed on every marked line. Without realizing it, he signed away his marriage together with the acquisition documents. Afterward, Adrian dropped the pen onto the floor. You don't look well, he said, his brow tightening further. The remark carried criticism, not concern or kindness. "Roselyn, don't start creating problems right now. I'm exhausted. Just let me get some rest." For three years, Roselyn had loved this man. Now, there was nothing left. Only an ending she could finally see clearly. It's nothing. My stomach's bothering me again, Roselyn said softly. "It's an old issue." Ask Donna to make you some soup tomorrow, Adrian said before walking toward the bedroom. Alone in the dim room, Roselyn tightened her grip on the folder. Then she took out her phone and sent a message to her best friend, Nina Parker. I have cancer. I'm divorcing Adrian. Nina replied, "What? I'm on my way!" I still need to deal with a few things. Come tomorrow, Roselyn responded. After getting to her feet, she headed upstairs. When she reached the master bedroom, she noticed the door hadn't been fully closed. A voice drifted from inside. It was Adrian. Emma, sl**p well. Roselyn stopped where she was. Pain churned through her stomach once again, but not a sound escaped her lips. Without looking inside, she continued past the room and entered the guest bedroom. They hadn't shared the same bedroom for months. After locking the door, she placed the signed documents inside the nightstand drawer. Under the faint light, she began writing. "Freedom Countdown. Sign the divorce agreement. Secure financial compensation. Return to my career. Keep the diagnosis secret." One final word was added. "Survive." Whatever happened, she had to survive. No one could know the truth. She would allow them to believe she was simply causing trouble. Without water, she swallowed two strong painkillers. Still wearing her clothes, she lay down on the bed and stared upward until daylight slipped through the curtains. By morning, Adrian was already standing near the front entrance, adjusting his watch. As Roselyn came downstairs, he glanced at her briefly. Then he walked out without another look. Soon, everything would be finished. The divorce agreement had already been signed. Drawing in a steady breath, Roselyn picked up her phone and called Jenifer. I'll arrive in thirty minutes. Chapter 2 You're A Snake Roselyn occupied a velvet armchair in the spacious living room. Across from her, Jenifer sat with a saucer in hand while her manicured nails struck against it at regular intervals. The gesture made her irritation obvious. Without a word, Roselyn pushed a document over the glass coffee table. Jenifer took the papers and looked through them. As soon as she reached the end of the document, her eyebrows shot up. She sl**ped it down onto the table. Thirty million dollars? Jenifer's sharp voice shattered the silence. "Have you completely lost your senses, Roselyn? What have you ever done for the Riley family that makes you think you're entitled to that amount? This is nothing but blackmail!" Not a single change appeared on Roselyn's face. She opened her designer handbag and removed a silver flash drive. Then she set it down in front of Jenifer. Every claim I've made can be verified, said Roselyn. "The drive contains records proving Adrian moved substantial marital assets into an offshore account under Emma's name. It also contains internal correspondence detailing how Riley Group dealt with tax issues connected to a major development project from last year." Jenifer's face immediately lost all color. Her grip tightened against the armrests. I'm only asking for what is legally mine. On top of that, I deserve compensation for the emotional harm I've endured. Roselyn settled back into her seat as she spoke. "If you choose not to agree, these documents will be submitted together with my divorce filing. The moment that happens, they'll become part of the public record. I imagine both the media and the IRS will be very interested in reviewing them." Jenifer stared at her, breathing hard. Only then did she understand how badly she had misjudged Roselyn. For years, she had seen Roselyn as someone weak and obedient. You're a snake, Jenifer spat through clenched teeth. You should know-I learned it from watching people like you, Roselyn retorted. Jenifer's expression hardened. If information like this ever got out, Riley Group could lose hundreds of millions in value. Compared to that, thirty million dollars was nothing. Fine. Jenifer gave in reluctantly. "But you're signing a nondisclosure agreement first. Then pack everything you own and leave Adrian's house." I have no problem with that, Roselyn agreed. Without hesitation, she accepted the NDA from Jenifer, signed it, and stood. You have three days to transfer the money into my account. If that deadline passes, the files will be released automatically. Leaving the house behind, Roselyn headed for the exit. The oak door shut behind her with a heavy sound. The moment she settled into her car, a slight tremor ran through her hands. She had succeeded. Instead of going home, she drove to her office. Long before she became Adrian's wife, Roselyn had helped establish a medical AI technology company as one of its founding engineers. After the marriage, however, fewer and fewer people viewed her the same way. She walked through the familiar hallways. The efficient, professional atmosphere felt completely different from the endless conflict surrounding the Riley family. Outside the office of Gerald Hardy, the company's operations director, she paused and knocked on the door. Surprise flashed across Gerald's face when he saw her. "Roselyn? I wasn't expecting you. Come in and have a seat." From her bag, Roselyn took out a white envelope and handed it over. "Gerald, I've decided to step down from my nonexecutive board position. For now, I'll also be transferring my voting rights." As Gerald reviewed the letter, a frown slowly appeared. "Does this have something to do with Mr. Riley's af**ir?" My health is the reason, Roselyn answered. She offered no further explanation. "Right now, I need time to rest." After signing the paperwork, Gerald let out a sigh. "No matter what happens, there'll always be a place for you here." Thank you. For the first time that day, Roselyn truly felt grateful. After leaving his office, she made her way toward the elevators. A hand suddenly caught the doors before they could shut completely. Nate Robinson stepped into the elevator. As Adrian's executive assistant, his arrogance rivaled that of his employer. Mrs. Riley, Nate sneered as his gaze swept over her. What brings you here? To see Mr. Riley? You know he can't stand it when you follow him around. Roselyn felt her stomach tighten. To steady herself, she rested a hand against her abdomen and kept her breathing under control. I'm here to complete the process of leaving the board, Roselyn replied calmly. "And from this point forward, you'll address me as Ms. Hudson." A moment of surprise crossed Nate's face before he burst out laughing. "Leaving the board? Is this another one of your attempts to get attention? Does Mr. Riley even know you're doing this?" Roselyn kept her eyes on the elevator doors and didn't look at him. "That's not something you need to concern yourself with." When the elevator reached the lobby, the doors opened. Without another word, Roselyn stepped out. Behind her, Nate remained where he was, still wearing that disdainful look. Once she returned to her car, Roselyn pulled out a notebook. She crossed off the second item on her list-secure financial compensation. Then she placed a check mark beside the first item-sign the divorce agreement. Below the four items, she wrote something new. "Freedom Countdown: 30 Days." A vibration came from her phone. A message appeared on her phone from her cousin, Stefan Hudson. Roselyn, there's a private dinner happening tonight. Would you like to come with me? For several seconds, Roselyn looked at the text. Exhaustion weighed on her. The stress and the tumor had left her body aching. Even so, she needed to start rebuilding her connections. She needed to find the version of herself that existed before Adrian became part of her life. Her fingers moved across the screen. "Where is it, and what time does it start?" Silence filled the house when Roselyn arrived home. In the hallway, Donna Flynn, the elderly housekeeper who had always been kind to her, was busy dusting. The moment Donna saw her, concern showed on her face. Roselyn's pale appearance was impossible to miss. Mrs. Riley, are you alright? Donna, I'd rather you call me Roselyn. I'm alright. Just a little tired. Actually, I'll be moving out soon. Shock spread across Donna's face. "Moving out? Oh dear... I'm sorry to hear that." Donna understood better than anyone how Roselyn had been treated under that roof. You don't need to be sorry. A smile appeared on Roselyn's lips. Though tired, it was genuine. "This is the right decision." Roselyn headed for the guest room upstairs. A suitcase came out, and she started packing her belongings. Everything Adrian had purchased for her remained exactly where it was. Her gaze settled on the closet after it had been emptied. At that moment, something she hadn't felt in years stirred inside her-anticipation. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she opened her laptop and began writing an email to the mentor who had guided her in the past. Is there still room for me on the new AI diagnostics project we talked about last year? The email was sent. Before two minutes had passed, a response arrived. Roselyn! We've been waiting for you. After closing the laptop, Roselyn sat quietly for a moment. Goodbye, Adrian, she whispered to the empty room. Chapter 3 I Owe Him My Life For the private dinner, Roselyn picked out a black dress with a clean, elegant design. Just as she prepared to head out, her phone started ringing. Roselyn, I owe you an apology. An inspection came up and delayed me. Stefan sounded rushed. "So I asked a friend to pick you up instead. He's already outside waiting." A frown crossed Roselyn's face. "Stefan, that's unnecessary. I can make it there myself." Relax, you'll be fine with him. I'll see you at the restaurant. Before she could respond, Stefan ended the call. With her clutch in hand, Roselyn took the elevator down to the first floor. At the curb, a black Maybach was already parked. When she neared the vehicle, the driver got out and opened the rear door. Roselyn stepped inside. Someone else was already seated on the opposite side. The light from a tablet cast a glow across his features. Sharp bone structure. A calm expression. An authority that didn't need to be announced. His presence alone was difficult to ignore. The man sitting there was Kevin Wheeler. Roselyn stopped cold. Kevin turned to look at her. For a split second, something intense flickered across his face before disappearing. The change vanished so quickly that she couldn't be certain she had seen it at all. Hello, Roselyn greeted with a courteous smile. My name is Roselyn Hudson. I'm Stefan's cousin. Thank you for coming to get me. Kevin Wheeler. His voice was low and steady. "Stefan talks about you often. From what I understand, you've had a difficult time recently." Roselyn immediately grew guarded. Without thinking, she closed her fingers into her palms. Why would Stefan tell him something so personal? There are a few things in my life that need to be dealt with, she said after a pause. Rather than questioning her further, Kevin offered, "If you find yourself needing assistance, you can reach out to me." His tone remained casual, yet the offer felt far more significant than it should have. Confusion flickered across Roselyn's face. She couldn't understand why someone she had only just met would extend that kind of offer. Soon afterward, the Maybach rolled into the underground parking area of an upscale restaurant. Kevin stepped out and opened the door for her. Standing next to him made most people feel diminished by comparison. Roselyn rarely experienced anything like that. Together, they made their way into a private dining room where Stefan was already seated and motioning for them to join him. As the dinner continued, Roselyn began to understand the extent of Kevin's influence. He wasn't simply a friend of Stefan's. He was one of the investment world's most influential figures, someone capable of shaping the future of countless companies with a single decision. Even so, he spent most of the evening listening rather than speaking. Stefan carried much of the conversation with one story after another. Several glasses of w**e later, Stefan started talking about their family's past. Roselyn's uncle, Arthur Cunningham, was a legend, Stefan said with a grin. Arthur Cunningham? Kevin repeated. The way he said the name was noticeably quieter. "He is your uncle?" A nod came from Roselyn as a familiar sadness surfaced inside her. "That's right. He passed away many years ago." Kevin didn't look away. Something about the way he watched her sent a sudden shock through Roselyn. I owe him my life, Kevin said. The amusement vanished from Stefan's face. Roselyn became completely still. Many years ago, he pulled me out of a situation that should have ki**ed me, Kevin continued. His gaze remained fixed on her. "Afterward, he never asked for anything in return." An old memory surfaced in Roselyn's mind. She remembered hearing that Arthur had once rescued a boy from a vehicle engulfed in flames. He had been so happy because of that, but he had never revealed who that boy was. Since then, I've never forgotten what I owe him, Kevin said. "Meeting you tonight finally gives me a chance to repay that debt." Roselyn thought of the uncle who had always shown her kindness. Her throat tightened as emotion rose inside her. "That's not necessary. My uncle would've done the same for anyone. You don't owe me anything." I disagree. I know exactly what I owe. Kevin's voice made it clear he wasn't open to debate. "If there's ever something you need, all you have to do is tell me." Sensing the atmosphere growing heavier, Stefan cut in, "Roselyn, do you realize how valuable that offer is? Getting a favor from Kevin is like hitting the jackpot." Roselyn turned her attention to Kevin. There was no trace of pity in his eyes. All she found there was sincerity. She needed support now more than ever. Even so, she wanted to hold on to what remained of her pride. Thank you, Kevin, Roselyn whispered. "If the day comes when I have nowhere else to turn, I'll remember what you've offered." The corner of Kevin's mouth lifted slightly. Once dinner ended, Kevin refused to let her find her own way home and arranged for the driver to take her back. The ride passed in silence. When the car finally arrived outside her apartment building, Roselyn stepped out onto the sidewalk. Roselyn. Kevin's voice stopped her before she could walk away. "Don't forget what I said." Roselyn caught her breath. Before any response could leave her lips, the darkened window rose, and the Maybach disappeared into the night. A cool breeze brushed against her coat while she remained standing on the sidewalk. Her arms folded across her body as one thought after another ran through her mind. There was no doubt that Kevin was a dangerous man. Yet after everything she had gone through, he was also the first person to offer her something completely genuine. Chapter 4 Stop Making A Scene The following day, Roselyn met Nina at the hotel cafe. Across the table, Nina used the edge of her fork to cut into a slice of red velvet cake. I still don't know how you pulled that off. Thirty million dollars from Jenifer? That's unbelievable. Disbelief filled Nina's face as she shook her head. "Once she saw those financial records, she didn't have anywhere to run." Only a small smile appeared on Roselyn's face. Beneath the table, she quietly pressed her fist against her abdomen as a sharp cramp tore through her stomach. I just had something valuable enough to negotiate with. The strain in Roselyn's voice was difficult to hide. Nina was too caught up in the conversation to notice how drained Roselyn looked. "Oh, right. I think I spotted Kevin upstairs earlier." A playful smile spread across her face. "The man who offered to help you." Getting to her feet, Roselyn moved quickly. "Excuse me. I need to go to the restroom." Leaving the cafe behind, she walked into the hotel's grand main corridor. Without warning, another surge of pain hit her. The pain became so severe that she had no choice but to stop beside a marble column and brace herself against it. Her eyes closed as she concentrated on the breathing techniques her doctor had taught her. Several moments later, the pain finally began to ease. Slowly, she opened her eyes again. Directly across the corridor stood a luxury jewelry boutique. Carefully arranged lighting reflected against rows of glass display cases. One particular piece drew Roselyn's attention. An extraordinary sapphire and diamond necklace occupied the center of the display. Its name was "True Love." Roselyn caught sight of it and froze for a moment. Six months ago, Adrian had brought her to this same boutique. Standing beside her, he had pointed at the necklace and spoken in a low voice. "That necklace belongs to you, Roselyn. No one else should wear it." Back then, she had accepted every word as truth. Looking back, she felt fo**ish. Roselyn was ready to leave when movement inside the boutique caught her attention. All the color vanished from her face. For a moment, she couldn't move. The two people entering the store were Adrian and Emma. Through the spotless glass, Roselyn watched Adrian speak with the store manager. With an eager nod, the manager unlocked the display at the center of the boutique. Carefully, he removed the necklace and handed it over to Adrian. Adrian turned toward Emma. Using his own hands, he secured the necklace around her neck. An exaggerated g**p escaped Emma. Without any hesitation, she wrapped her arms around Adrian and ki**ed him. As he drew her closer, his hand came to rest at her waist. Concealed behind the marble column, Roselyn didn't move. Her nails bit into her palms until pain spread through her hands. A metallic bitterness settled in her mouth. The pain in her stomach intensified. Soon, the burning sensation rose into her throat. Breath became difficult to draw, yet her eyes remained fixed on them. With a shopping bag, Adrian and Emma eventually left the boutique. Roselyn tried to retreat farther into the shadows, but it was too late. Emma's sharp gaze locked onto her. A victorious gleam flashed across her eyes. Roselyn! What a surprise. Her sweet voice echoed through the corridor. Holding tightly to Adrian's arm, she guided him straight toward Roselyn. The moment Adrian noticed her, he stopped walking. Look at this. Adrian bought it for me. Lifting her chin, Emma made sure the newly acquired necklace was impossible to miss. "He told me the sapphires made him think of me." Nausea churned inside Roselyn, but she refused to let it show. What are you doing here, Roselyn? The question came from Adrian, and his voice carried nothing but cold disapproval. Anyone listening would've thought he was confronting a stranger instead of speaking to his wife. Roselyn met his gaze. How disappointing. This was the man she had given up her career for. This was the man she had once imagined spending her future with. I stopped by for coffee. Though Roselyn's voice sounded strained, it didn't waver. "I didn't expect to see you two." A frown appeared on Adrian's face. For the first time, he seemed to register how pale and unwell she looked. "Stop making a scene, Roselyn." Making a scene? A humorless laugh slipped from Roselyn's lips. "All I'm doing is standing here." Leaning against Adrian, Emma rested her head on his shoulder. "Adrian, we should leave. We still have to pick up my gown." Without another look at Roselyn, Adrian turned away. "You're right. Let's go." Roselyn remained where she was and watched them disappear around the corner. The moment they were gone, the adrenaline left her. The pain came rushing back with even greater force. It ripped through her body and almost drove her to her knees. She reached toward the marble column for support, but her hand missed. A strong arm caught her around the waist before she could fall. In the next second, she found herself held firmly against a solid ch**t. I've got you. The quiet voice sounded near her ear. Struggling for breath, Roselyn lifted her head through blurred vision. Kevin. Without any effort, he steadied her and led her toward a velvet bench tucked away from the main corridor. Kevin asked, "That man... is he your husband?" Roselyn shut her eyes. At last, a tear slipped free. "Yes, and the woman beside him is my half-sister." Something changed in Kevin's expression. Anyone could tell he was angry. "He humiliated you for another woman." It doesn't matter anymore, Roselyn whispered. Kevin's gaze shifted to the arm she still kept pressed across her stomach. "You don't look well." It's just an ulcer. I'll be alright. The answer came naturally, but her uneven breathing exposed the lie. For a long moment, Kevin said nothing. He clearly didn't accept her explanation, yet he let it go. What I said before still stands. The edge in his voice softened. "Whenever you're ready to be honest with me, I'll listen." Footsteps suddenly echoed from around the corner. Moments later, Nina appeared, panic written across her face. "Roselyn! I've been looking everywhere for you! I saw Adrian and..." The rest of her sentence vanished when she noticed Kevin. With a brief nod, Kevin acknowledged her presence. Before leaving, he gave Roselyn one last look. "Take care of her," he said to Nina. Then he turned away and disappeared into the crowd without another word. Nina hurried over and took hold of Roselyn's hands. "Roselyn, your hands are freezing. What happened? And why was Kevin with you?" Drawing in a shaky breath, Roselyn tried to steady herself. "He helped me." Slowly, she rose from the bench. Her body still felt weak, but her thoughts had never been more certain. "Nina, please take me home. There's something I need to do first." ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &4&

She woke up in an interstellar beast-world novel as the fake heiress everyone hated—a spoiled, low-ranked female doomed to a brutal ending. The real heiress would return in two years, so she got to work fast: stealing opportunities, making money, and building connections with anyone powerful enough to keep her alive. She wouldn't touch the heroine's chosen men, but the ones the heroine kept around and never valued? She took every last one. ===== "Your Highness, take a look at this one. He's strong and sturdy." "And there's this one. He's thinner, but very attractive." "This one over here is very timid. Perfect if you enjoy something unusual..." People hurried to crowd around Ella Morgan, their faces glowing with eager flattery. Everyone knew that Ella, the third Princess, despite being only a C-level female with weak spiritual power, always spent money lavishly without hesitation. In their eyes, there was only one reason she would appear in a small market like this. She had obviously come to choose a few males as her servant. Their constant chatter made Ella's head pound. It had been three days since she transmigrated into this werecreature universe. In her previous life, she had been an ordinary office worker, squeezed dry by endless overtime until she worked herself to death at her desk. When she first woke up and realized she had become a princess, she nearly wanted to celebrate with ch**pagne. Unfortunately, that excitement disappeared the moment she absorbed the memories of this body. She realized she had transmigrated into a novel. She had read this novel before. The story centered around the true princess of the Central Empire, an S-level female who had been separated from her family and raised elsewhere. After finally returning home, she was treasured by her parents, adored by her two older brothers, and became deeply involved with more than a dozen exceptional males. Back then, Ella had enjoyed reading it quite a lot. Watching so many outstanding males grow jealous and compete for the heroine's affection had been undeniably entertaining. But the problem was that she had not become the heroine. She had become the fake princess, Ella. Even while reading the novel before, Ella had disliked this character who shared the same name as her. It wasn't even because the character was especially evil. Compared to typical villainesses who poisoned people, framed others, or hired assassins, the character had never committed any unforgivable crimes. She was merely obsessed with handsome males, spoiled by her status, and burdened with weak spiritual power. Even so, the author of the novel seemed determined to pour every ounce of malice onto her. The moment the true princess returned, the parents who had once spoiled Ella immediately viewed her as a fraud who had stolen their daughter's place. Her two older brothers, who had once protected her so fiercely, began to resent her for taking everything that rightfully belonged to their real sister. The males Ella had once admired turned against her with cruel words, while the nobles who had once flattered her openly ridiculed her. Later in the story, even after the character Ella experienced a dramatic rise in spiritual power and became a rare S-level female, she still lost completely to the heroine's overwhelming plot armor. In the end, everything was taken from her, and she was exiled to the Barren Star. Meanwhile, the heroine was living a sweet and carefree life. Back when Ella read that ending, it had infuriated her. She had never expected that one day, she would have to face that fate herself. After transmigrating, she spent a long time thinking things through and came to one conclusion. The story had only just begun. She still had a chance to change her future. There were still two full years before the real princess returned. And Ella's spiritual power had not gone through its second awakening yet. She was still only at C-level. What she needed to do now was secure enough resources to protect herself before the real princess came back. Money? Because of her weak spiritual power, the old Ella had developed a habit of spending recklessly to hide her insecurity. Even with an enormous monthly allowance, almost nothing remained in her account. Power? Although the old Ella was a female, who had a high social status in this universe, her spiritual power was painfully weak. On top of that, she had been spoiled as a princess and refused to take on any responsibilities, leaving her without any real authority in the empire. Ella spent the entire night thinking before finally setting her sights on the males. She planned to compete with the real princess for them. Naturally, she had no intention of fighting over the male leads who were completely devoted to the heroine. The males she wanted were the important characters who didn't end up with the heroine. To put it simply, she planned to win over the males the heroine had overlooked. For example, Kyson Howe, the heroine's most loyal guard later in the story. Kyson came from the family of a convicted traitor. Two years ago, his family collapsed. Some relatives were executed, while the rest were exiled. As for him, he was reduced to a mere servant. In the original novel, after the heroine bought him and treated his injuries, Kyson became deeply devoted to her. Now, Ella was here two years before the heroine would arrive. Getting Kyson to pledge that loyalty to her sounded like a great idea. With that thought, Ella continued walking deeper into the market. In the novel, Kyson was described as a werewolf. Ella searched for nearly ten minutes but still could not find any werewolf. The male beside her continued rambling. Ella interrupted him coldly. "Do you have any werewolves?" The male paused for a moment at her words. At that moment, another male nearby, who had failed to squeeze through the crowd earlier, suddenly brightened. "Your Highness, I have exactly the one you're looking for!" Ella lifted a brow and tipped her chin slightly. "Lead the way." The male instantly bent over with eager politeness and hurried to guide her farther into the market. At last, they stopped in front of a door. With a flattering smile, the male pushed the door open. "This one is tough and can endure all kinds of labor. He's still young, too. And he's really cute..." Kyson listened quietly as the male listed his so-called "merits." He wondered who had come for him this time. Suddenly, light poured into the room, so bright that he instinctively narrowed his eyes. Through his blurred vision, he could barely make out a slender figure standing outside. A sweet, clean scent drifted through and rushed into his nose. Kyson forced himself to lift his head, trying to see the female more clearly. Under the glare of the light, all he could distinguish was a pair of eyes that suddenly seemed to shine brightly. Then, he heard her clear voice. "I'll take him!" Chapter 2 We're Done The male was quick to read the situation. The moment he noticed the satisfaction in Ella's expression, he immediately raised the salary. Ella didn't find it unacceptable. There were a hundred thousand coins left in her account. Without hesitation, she handed over her bank card. The male accepted it with a wide grin. "Get out! Greet your new employer!" The silver-haired young male remained motionless, and the male lifted his foot, about to kick him. Ella immediately placed her hands on her hips and snapped, "How dare you kick him? Who gave you permission to touch what's mine?" The male instantly bent over in apology and retreated a step. "Please forgive me, Your Highness." Ella signed the contract, excitement rising in her ch**t. Her plan had succeeded! "Let's go," she said to Kyson. From Kyson's position, all he could see were a pair of slim ankles and the gently swaying hem of her dress. He forced his stiff body to crawl after her. After only a short distance, the footsteps ahead suddenly stopped. Kyson's body instantly tensed. He prepared himself for the pain that was about to come. Ella looked down at him and let out a quiet sigh. She lowered her gaze toward Kyson. "Can you stand straighter?" For a moment, Kyson almost failed to process her words. Then, he gave a small nod and tried to straighten his back. Ella quietly let out a breath of relief and led him outside. The moment they stepped out of the market, a bright female voice suddenly called out, "Your Highness!" Ella looked up instinctively. A young female with a ponytail was hurrying toward her with obvious delight written across her face. It was Zoey Dixon, the old Ella's closest friend. Ella looked away indifferently, her expression turning cold. A low gr**n suddenly sounded behind her. She turned around at once and saw Kyson's body swaying unsteadily. She quickly reached out to catch him. The pain from Kyson's injuries had made him dizzy for a moment. When his thoughts finally cleared, he realized he had collapsed into Ella's arms. Shock filled his widened eyes as he immediately struggled to stand upright again. Unfortunately, his weakened body failed him, and bl**d from his wounds smeared onto her clothes. This was bad. Kyson froze completely, not daring to move another inch. Males were naturally tall and big, and supporting him took more effort than Ella expected. She immediately gestured for a nearby guard to bring the car over. Feeling Kyson trembling against her, she assumed he was just too weak. By then, Zoey had already reached them. "Your Highness, I finally found you! Why did you come to a place like this?" Zoey's voice sounded warm, but her face showed clear disapproval. The moment her eyes landed on Kyson, disgust appeared in them. "This kind of place doesn't suit you at all! And you're even getting close to a servant like him. If Jonathan finds out about this, he'll dislike you even more!" Ella gave her a faint glance. Taking that as encouragement, Zoey continued, "Honestly, I think you should spend more time learning royal etiquette. Be more elegant and gentle. That's the kind of female Jonathan likes!" Ella finally lost her patience. "Shut up," she said coldly. Zoey was stunned into silence by her harsh attitude. Ella ignored her reaction. This so-called best friend came from an insignificant family with little status. Her spiritual power was just as weak as the old Ella's. Because they shared similar circumstances, the old Ella had treated Zoey as a close friend and cared deeply about her. Unfortunately, this friend had always relied on the old Ella's identity as a princess to benefit herself. She constantly used Jonathan Ford, the male the old Ella liked, to manipulate her. After the true princess returned, Zoey was also the first person to betray her and side with the heroine instead. Ella had no interest in maintaining this fake friendship. Right now, all her attention was focused on the male leaning weakly against her. The guard arrived and helped the half-conscious Kyson into the car. Ella stepped forward to get in as well, but Zoey suddenly blocked her way. "Your Highness, what is wrong with you today? I'm only saying this for your own good. If you keep refusing to listen to me, Jonathan will never pay attention to you again!" "Enough. I heard you already," Ella said and waved her hand impatiently. "Now move. You're blocking my way." Zoey stared at her in pure shock. In the past, Ella would have panicked the moment Jonathan was mentioned. As long as it involved him, she would obediently listen to every word she said. So why was Ella acting so differently today? "Your Highness! It's Jonathan's birthday party tonight. We're already running late. You should ditch this male and go to the birthday party with me now." Ella did not even bother looking at her. "You can go on your own. Move." Zoey was taken aback, embarrassment flashing across her face. Without the accompany of a royal, someone of her status would never be allowed into Jonathan's birthday party. For a moment, she even suspected Ella was deliberately humiliating her by doing this. Zoey clenched her teeth and threw out her final card. "Your Highness, if you refuse to listen to me, then I'll never talk to you again!" Only then did Ella finally look at her. She pointed at herself and asked, "What did you just call me?" Zoey blinked in confusion. "Your Highness..." "That's right," Ella replied with a faint smile. "So what gives you the right to order a princess like me around?" Zoey's face instantly turned red with humiliation. Ella brushed past her and stepped into the car. Furious, Zoey rushed to the door and shouted, "What is this supposed to mean? I'm your only friend!" The car window slowly lowered. Zoey's eyes brightened immediately, thinking Ella had changed her mind. But Ella leaned halfway out of the window and said, "Oh, right. I almost forgot to mention it. I don't think you're qualified to be my friend anymore. We're done. Also, make sure you return all the clothes, handbags, jewelry, and money you've borrowed from me over the years." "What... what are you talking about..." Ella's smile widened. "If you refuse, I'll have my eldest brother deal with your family." The car window rolled back up, and the hovercar quickly disappeared. Zoey remained standing there in a daze. She felt certain that Ella had gone crazy. *** Kyson thought he must be dead. Otherwise, why would someone be treating him so gently now? Ella pulled her hand back with a sigh. After returning home, she had tried using her spiritual power to soothe Kyson. Unfortunately, the results were barely noticeable. He still had not opened his eyes. Letting out another sigh, Ella took out the medical kit and personally tending to Kyson. Chapter 3 The Expensive Gift This wasn't something Ella should've handled herself, but she didn't trust anyone else to do it. She was worried rumors would start spreading. Especially if her eldest brother, Chris, heard about this. Although the old Ella was a useless female at this time, her father doted on her, and her mother was also very patient with her. Her second-eldest brother, Ricky Morgan, was an oddball in the royal family. He spent his days in the entertainment industry and rarely returned home. Still, they were close enough. But her eldest brother, Chris Morgan, was completely different. He was extremely stern. He was ten years older than her and currently served as a major general of the empire. He was stationed in the border sector year-round, but whenever he occasionally returned to Capital Star, his discipline toward the younger generation was so harsh that it bordered on unreasonable. Even the old Ella, despite being a female, couldn't escape it. She was terrified of him. If Chris found out she'd bought a male servant and kept him at her side, he would definitely scold her. So, Ella hid the unconscious Kyson in her room. The technology in this world was highly advanced. The medicine used to treat wounds came in the form of a nano-repair spray that could quickly stop bl**ding and stimulate cell regeneration. However, no matter how advanced the technology was, it still couldn't remove the pain caused when the medicine stimulated the wounds. "Ugh!" His eyes flew open, and he instinctively struggled, his arms lashing out in resistance. "Ouch!" A female's startled cry rang out beside him. Kyson immediately froze, cold sweat spreading across his body. He wondered if... in his struggle just now, he had accidentally hurt the female who had taken him in. Ella hadn't expected Kyson to accidentally hit her. Only after a while did she finally recover enough to straighten herself. When she looked back, her gaze met Kyson's half-open eyes. Ella bent down slightly until her face was close to his. "You're awake?" Kyson still looked somewhat dazed. Ella picked up the spray bottle and shook it lightly. "I'm applying the medicine to you now. Bear with it for a bit, and don't move." Kyson remained silent. His unfocused eyes stayed fixed stubbornly on her. In fact, he couldn't see clearly at all. Ever since suffering a head injury, his vision had remained blurry. But his hearing was perfectly fine. She was going to treat his wounds? For a moment, Kyson thought he must be dreaming. His whole body stiffened as fear crept into him. He was afraid the dream would suddenly shatter. Seeing that Kyson had gone still, Ella hurriedly finished applying the medicine. After treating his wounds, she looked at him and said, "Can you stand up? If you can, go sl**p on the sofa." Only then did Kyson slowly realize this might not be a dream after all. Even in his dreams, he wouldn't dare imagine a female telling him to sl**p on a sofa in her own room. Still dazed, he slowly pushed himself upright and tried hard to make out Ella's appearance. Ella pointed toward the sofa across the room. "Go." The sofa was large enough for him to lie down comfortably. Kyson moved slightly and realized his wounds had even been treated and wrapped with bandages. He nodded awkwardly and made his way forward. Then came a dull thump as his head slammed hard into the leg of a table. Only then did Ella realize something wasn't right. She walked over to Kyson and waved a hand in front of his eyes. Kyson's unfocused gaze shifted faintly. "You can't see clearly?" she asked. Kyson hesitated briefly before giving a small nod. A complicated look crossed Ella's face. She hadn't expected Kyson to have problems with his eyesight. In the original storyline she remembered, the heroine's rescue of him had only been mentioned briefly. Most likely, his eyes had later been healed by the heroine's spiritual power. But Ella couldn't do that. She didn't possess that level of spiritual power. Ella sighed to herself. The gap between a heroine and someone like her-a side character-was just too wide. After letting out another quiet sigh, she helped Kyson lie down on the sofa. "Just sl**p here for tonight." Kyson's body remained stiff as he lay there. Ella tossed a thin blanket over him before climbing into her own bed and shutting her eyes to rest. She was completely exhausted. Anything else could wait until after she woke up. Kyson lay motionless on the sofa for a long time, not daring to move. He hadn't expected this kind of reaction from her. This female had treated his wounds and even allowed him to sl**p on the sofa... Was this real? Kyson couldn't tell anymore. Exhaustion finally overtook him, and he slowly closed his eyes. Even if something waited for him tomorrow, at least tonight, he could rest for real. Not long after Ella fell asleep, the sharp ringing of her communicator jolted her awake. Still half asleep, she accepted the call without even checking who it was. "Hello?" A loud voice immediately burst from the other end of the call. "Ella! It's almost midnight already! Weren't you supposed to personally deliver Jonathan's gift? If you don't get over here now, you'll miss your chance! I've already covered for you for a long time, so where are you?" It was Ricky. Ella sat up groggily as the relevant memories slowly surfaced in her mind. Jonathan was an unfavored male from a noble family, the Ford family. By relying on the old Ella's status as a royal princess along with her popularity and resources, he'd managed to become a fairly well-known celebrity in the entertainment industry. The old Ella was one of Jonathan's most devoted fans. Every year on his birthday, she personally handled everything and showered him with ridiculously expensive gifts. Last year, she had given him a limited-edition Star Sea series hovercar, but Jonathan had complained that it was too flashy. So after learning from that mistake, the old Ella decided to give him something more practical this year. She'd asked Ricky to order a spiritual power bond crystal from another sector for her. It was said to help nourish a male's spiritual power, and it cost her a full one million coins. One million coins! Thinking of that, Ella became fully alert in an instant. "Ricky! You didn't give him the gift yet, did you?" Ricky let out a snort. "Now you're panicking? There are only eight minutes left before midnight. Hurry up and get over here already. I've brought the crystal with me. I'm just waiting for you to hand it to him personally." "Don't give it to him!" Ella nearly screamed. "Just wait for me! I'm coming right now!" But Ricky apparently didn't catch the rest of her shouting and abruptly ended the call. Ella jumped out of bed, threw on some clothes in a rush, and sprinted out the door. On the sofa, Kyson slowly sat up, confusion filling his face as his unfocused eyes stared toward the direction she'd disappeared. *** The party hall blazed with bright lights, and beautifully wrapped gifts were piled high in the center of the room. The guests kept glancing toward the second-floor terrace. Leaning lazily against the railing, Ricky casually held a small gift box in his hand. Excited gasps rose from the crowd below. "Oh my God! That's Prince Ricky! He's so handsome!" "Wait, aren't you a male, too? Why are you acting this excited? Ah! He just looked over here! He looked at me!" Clearly bored, Ricky tossed a few charming looks toward the crowd before withdrawing his gaze again. He sneered inwardly. If his sister hadn't begged him to show up at Jonathan's birthday party, a superstar like him would've never attended an event like this. And after making him come all the way here, Ella herself hadn't even appeared. Once he got home, he was definitely going to scold her for this. "Your Highness," someone called out behind him. Ricky turned his head, and annoyance immediately flashed across his face when he saw who it was. At some point, Jonathan had walked up behind him. As a male werepavo, Jonathan was undeniably good-looking. He was tall, with delicate skin and eyes that naturally gave him a gentle appearance. But Ricky still caught the trace of arrogance hidden in his gaze. "Princess Ella still hasn't arrived?" Jonathan asked, unable to hide the impatience in his tone. He found the situation strange. Every other time, Ella would've arrived long ago. But today, there was still no sign of her now. Ricky was losing patience as well. He lifted his hand, ready to hand the gift box directly to Jonathan. Once the gift was delivered, he could finally leave this place that made him uncomfortable all over. But just as he was about to pass over the box, an anxious voice suddenly rang out. "Wait!" Chapter 4 Ready To Choose A Prime Mate Ella's shout rang through the banquet hall, instantly drawing everyone's attention toward her. Under the stunned gaze of the entire crowd, she rushed onto the terrace, grabbed the gift box straight out of Ricky's hands, and clutched it tightly against her ch**t. Thank goodness. She'd made it in time. Ricky stared at her in surprise before slowly looking her over. "What exactly are you wearing?" A coat tossed over a nightgown. Was this supposed to be some new trend? Ella was still catching her breath when another voice suddenly interrupted with clear dissatisfaction. "Your Highness, you're late." Ella turned toward the speaker and finally got a proper look at the male standing beside her. Jonathan was tall and lean, with handsome features. Unfortunately, he wasn't remotely her type. Jonathan frowned slightly as he looked at her. "Your Highness, why did you come dressed like this?" Attending a banquet without even wearing a formal gown was an outrageous breach of etiquette. Ella paused for a second. The audacity of him! She was a princess, yet he dared to speak to her like this? If not for the expensive gift, she wouldn't even have bothered coming here tonight. Still, Ella kept a polite smile on her face. "Sorry about that. I was in a bit of a hurry when I left home." Beside them, Ricky silently turned his face away, his expression dark. He'd disliked watching his sister chase after this weak-looking male for a long time already. Unfortunately, Ella had always been hopelessly devoted to him, so he could only pretend not to care. He genuinely couldn't understand what Ella saw in Jonathan. In his opinion, if she really wanted Jonathan, all she had to do was pressure the Ford family a little, and Jonathan would've been her mate. Noticing Ricky's dark expression, Jonathan suppressed his irritation and decided not to pursue the matter of Ella arriving late. He generously let the issue slide. "It's fine. I'm happy you came, Your Highness." His eyes shifted toward the gift box in Ella's arms. Zoey had already told him that Ella had asked Ricky to order an extremely valuable bond crystal for him. He was waiting for Ella to personally hand over the gift. Ella blinked her wide eyes and spoke with visible nervousness. "I... I have something I need to tell you." The terrace wasn't far from the main hall, so the guests below heard her clearly. Instantly, they exchanged amused looks and let out knowing chuckles. Here it came again. Everyone assumed Ella was about to confess her love to Jonathan all over again. Every year on Jonathan's birthday, something like this would happen. Every year, Ella confessed her love and got rejected. And after every rejection, she ended up crying. The males who had witnessed this before were already used to it and practically treated it as part of the entertainment. But to everyone's shock, Ella hesitated briefly before continuing, "I came here today because I want to make things clear between us. We shouldn't keep seeing each other anymore. I can't keep fooling around like this." Jonathan stared at her in disbelief, convinced he'd heard her wrong. "What did you just say?" The surrounding guests instantly became interested. Something felt completely different this year. Had Ella suddenly changed her approach? Ella kept a serious expression as she spoke sincerely. "My mother has already started arranging a future prime mate for me. You know my spiritual power is weak, so my future prime mate will already be making a sacrifice by bonding with me. If I continue getting involved with other males, it'll hurt him. I've thought about it carefully, and I think I should start behaving more appropriately from now on. After all, if I keep getting tangled up with other males, my prime mate will suffer because of it. I can't do that to him. Don't you think I'm right?" Everyone present was completely stunned. The banquet hall fell silent in an instant. So everything Ella had done for Jonathan before had only been her... fooling around? And she valued her future prime mate this much? Thinking about it carefully, everyone started to envy her future prime mate. If Ella could lavish that much money and attention on Jonathan when she was merely "fooling around" with him, then once she truly chose a prime mate... just how much she would spoil him? Several young males immediately sensed an opportunity, and the way they looked at Ella quickly changed. Even Ricky was shocked. He snapped his head toward his sister in disbelief. Jonathan's face shifted from shock to humiliation before finally hardening into a cold expression. "Oh? Is that so?" he sneered. "Your Highness, what does your decision to choose a prime mate have to do with me? Choose whoever you want. Honestly, I'm curious myself to see how many males would actually want that position." He thought she'd gone crazy. Was she trying to play hard to get by doing this? This wasn't even the first time she'd done something like this. Every other time, she'd come back after a few days to apologize to him. But today was his birthday, and she was embarrassing him in front of everyone. A prime mate? She was nothing more than a useless female with C-level spiritual power. Who would want to be her prime mate? Ricky had finally heard enough. He looked at Jonathan coldly and said, "Forget everyone else. You're not even qualified to stand among the candidates." Inside, he cursed Jonathan repeatedly for daring to speak to his sister so arrogantly. Jonathan froze immediately, his face turning dark. His lips twitched slightly, but in the end, he didn't dare argue with Ricky. Ella might indulge him, but Ricky absolutely wouldn't. Not only was Ricky a prince, but he also possessed enormous influence in the entertainment industry. He simply couldn't afford to offend someone like Ricky. Ella nearly applauded Ricky on the spot, cheering wildly for him in her heart. Below the terrace, the guests had already started whispering among themselves. "Exactly. A royal female choosing a prime mate is a serious matter. The Ford family's status is still too low, and Jonathan's background isn't nearly good enough for that..." "What happened to Her Royal Highness this year? Why did she suddenly fall out with Jonathan?" "Didn't you hear what she said? She's done playing around. Hey, do you think I'd have a chance if I tried becoming her prime mate?" "You? Forget it. The prime mate of a royal female has to come from a first-class noble family..." As those scattered conversations drifted upward, Jonathan's expression turned stormy. For years, he'd worked desperately to make people forget that his father had once been nothing more than a servant. But now, all those efforts had been ruined. Meanwhile, Ella's full attention was fixed on the crystal in her arms. After saying everything she needed to say, she linked arms with Ricky and prepared to leave, even politely saying goodbye to Jonathan before going. "Now that everything's settled, Ricky and I should head back. Goodbye." With that, the two of them left the banquet under the watchful eyes of the entire crowd. The moment she climbed into the hovercar, Ella hugged the gift box and patted it with relief. This was worth about one million coins. She'd almost handed it away for nothing. But in the next second, Ricky snatched the box straight out of her arms. A faint smile appeared on his face. "Alright. Start talking. What exactly is going on with you?" Ella immediately fell silent. She looked at Ricky's handsome face and quickly searched through the old Ella's memories. Fortunately, although the old Ella had spent the past few years in a rebellious phase, she'd always been extremely close to Ricky. He'd spoiled her almost without limits. So, Ella copied the attitude of the old Ella from her memories, straightening her back with stubbornness. "Everything I said was true. You don't believe me?" Ricky narrowed his eyes. "Weren't you completely obsessed with your Jonathan? Just last month, you got into a huge fight with Mom over him and refused to accept anyone else as your prime mate." Ella touched her nose awkwardly. That was true. Because of that matter, the old Ella had argued fiercely with her mother last month, then stormed out of the royal palace and moved into her current house. Ella let out a dry laugh. "I was just... a little resistant to marrying a total stranger." Ricky thought for a moment and replied, "So as long as the male isn't a stranger, you're willing to accept it?" Ella nodded so fast that it was almost frantic. "I'll fully cooperate with the arrangements!" Jonathan honestly wasn't wrong about one thing. There probably weren't many noble males willing to become her prime mate anyway. And even if there were, she'd only just reached the age for bonding. There was still plenty of time before she actually had to deal with the matter. Ricky stared at her for a while before muttering under his breath, "How did you suddenly become this sensible?" Then, he tossed the gift box back into her lap. Ella immediately hugged the box tightly like it was a treasure. Just as she finally relaxed, Ricky casually dropped a bombshell. "Perfect timing. You'd better behave yourself these next few days. Chris is being transferred back to Capital Star soon to report on his duties. Don't let him catch you causing trouble again." Ella instantly felt her scalp prickle with dread. "Soon? When exactly is he coming back?" she asked. "Probably in about three days. He'll stay in Capital Star for about half a month, so you'd better behave." Ricky paused when he noticed the panic written all over her face. "You already did something bad, didn't you?" Chapter 5 Kyson Is Having A Fever Ella immediately shook her head and repeatedly insisted that she'd been behaving perfectly well. Ricky still looked doubtful, but he only gave a casual nod. "Relax. Haven't I always cleaned up your messes for you? Even if something bad really happens, just push the blame onto me. I'll handle it." Ella was genuinely touched. She immediately wrapped herself around Ricky's arm and shook it lightly. "You're seriously the best brother in the world!" Ricky went still for a brief second. At some point, his sister had gradually become quieter and more distant. It had been a very long time since she'd acted this close to him. Now, with her hugging his arm and speaking to him in such a soft tone, she reminded him of the little girl who used to cling to him when they were children. The thought made the corners of Ricky's lips curve upward slightly, and his mood instantly improved. *** The hovercar slowly stopped in front of Ella's house. Still unwilling to give up completely, Ella climbed out while holding the gift box up toward Ricky. "Are you absolutely sure this crystal can't be returned?" "Something like this can't be returned. Just keep it for yourself." The moment Ricky finished speaking, he watched his sister's face visibly collapse in disappointment. Only then did he remember that, with how weak her spiritual power was, she probably wouldn't even be able to activate the crystal properly. "Well... you can at least keep it as decoration," he added sympathetically. Ella stood there and watched Ricky's hovercar disappear into the distance. Finally accepting reality, she turned and walked back to her house. It was already deep into the night, and the entire place was dark. She shut the door behind her and turned around, only to freeze in shock. Kyson was standing a short distance away, silently watching her with his gray-blue eyes. Ella stared at him in confusion, unable to understand why he was standing there instead of resting. Moonlight streamed through the window, and under the pale glow, she noticed a pair of wolf ears had appeared on top of Kyson's head. They twitched faintly. At that moment, Ella still saw him as the future loyal guard. It instinctively lowered her guard. She even stepped closer in concern. "Your ears... why are they-ah!" Before she could finish speaking, Kyson suddenly staggered forward and threw himself at her. Ella was too stunned to react in time. "What are you doing?" Only then did she slowly realize how st**id she had been. She had actually allowed an adult male to stay alone with her in the same room. To hide him and take care of him secretly, she'd even dismissed all the guards stationed around the house. She'd completely forgotten that Kyson was destined to become the heroine's loyal guard, not hers. "Kyson! What are you trying to do? Just let me go!" But no matter how loudly she shouted, Kyson gave no response. "Kyson, I saved you, and this is how you repay me?" She couldn't understand it at all. Perhaps because Ella struggled too hard, Kyson unconsciously used more strength to hug her. Ella shuddered at the scorching heat pouring off him. Why was his body so hot? Then, a terrible realization hit her-he was having a fever. This was a critical detail she'd completely forgotten. In this world, male spiritual power was naturally unstable. At certain periods, they would experience a fever due to hormone instability. The period could last anywhere from one to three days. If a male going through it didn't receive soothing from a female, his spiritual power could spiral completely out of control. Kyson was actually having a fever right now? Panic instantly flooded Ella. Her spiritual power was pitifully weak. There was no way she could soothe him. Kyson felt as though his entire body had been dragged into a raging storm of heat. He'd already exhausted nearly all his strength trying to hold onto the only thread of reason he had left. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he vaguely understood what he was doing, but he couldn't stop himself. The scent coming from the female before him was unbearably attractive. It made him want to get closer to her. Kyson lowered his head instinctively and rubbed against her cheek, using his face to wipe away the tears running down her skin. With trembling fingers, Ella reached for the communicator wrapped around her wrist. Right now, all she wanted was to eliminate the threat in front of her. Just as she was about to activate the sequence, a strained whimper sounded beside her ear. A moment later, something warm and wet landed on her neck. He was crying? Ella was stunned. Her eyes met Kyson's. Those gray-blue eyes were overflowing with tears, completely filled with despair. Ella froze. In the end, she still couldn't do it. Blaming herself for being too soft-hearted, she desperately tried to gather the tiny amount of spiritual power inside her body to soothe him. Kyson's body suddenly trembled violently. He panted a few times, his breathing rough and uneven, before gradually calming down. Then, almost unconsciously, he lowered his head and rubbed affectionately against the side of her neck. Ella's body slowly relaxed. After a long while, Kyson held the unconscious female in his arms, bewildered. He recalled the burst of fragrance that had suddenly spread through the air earlier... What exactly was that? Why had the spiritual power raging inside him calmed down just because of that scent alone? And why hadn't she ki**ed him? ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &5&

When they met again, her ex-husband tearfully begged for remarriage. However, the wheelchair-bound tycoon of business lore, rumored to be unable to walk, rose to his feet, clasping her hands tightly, "You are worthy of pursuing her?!" ===== "I've filed for divorce. Four million should set you up for life." Colton Stevens impatiently walked over, his frustration almost palpable. "It's our third wedding anniversary today, can't we at least finish this meal together?" Allison Clarke's face froze for a heartbeat. Her nails dug painfully into her palm as she fought to keep her composure. Colton scoffed, his eyes cold and distant. "Even if we finish this meal together, I'll never love you. Besides, Melany's back. She's proud, and she won't stand for this whole situation." A flicker of softness crossed his face at the mention of Melany Johnson, a warmth that had never been reserved for Allison, no matter how hard she'd tried. She had bent over backward for him, cared for his parents, and sacrificed everything for years. But none of it had earned her more than a passing glance. Melany was the one who held his heart--had always held it. She had walked out on him three years ago, breaking off their engagement and leaving for abroad. Yet now, with a mere word from her, Colton had easily embraced her return and chosen to divorce Allison without a second thought. Allison gripped the table's edge as if trying to steady herself against a sudden gust of wind. "Does your grandpa know about this?" Colton let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Don't think you can hide behind Grandpa. He's in the hospital and can't handle any stress. My parents are on board with the divorce. In fact, Melany met with them just today." Allison's heart sank, an icy chill creeping through her veins. She had once been celebrated as a genius perfumer, renowned hacker. For three years, she'd buried every trace of that brilliance, molding herself into the perfect housewife. Just recently, she had secured a rare opportunity with Cobweb--the most elusive intelligence network--hoping to help the Stevens family clinch a crucial deal. A chance like that was nearly impossible to come by. Yet now, it all seemed like a cruel farce. "So, Melany's at your parents' place?" she asked, her voice brittle. "Naturally." Colton smiled, his features softening as if the thought of Melany made everything brighter. "They just had dinner. Melany's always gotten along with my parents. They've been singing her praises all evening -- saying how thoughtful and understanding she is." "And you all knew she was coming back," Allison murmured, her voice thick with disbelief, "but left me in the dark." Her eyes glistened, the sting of betrayal cutting deep. Thoughtful and understanding -- how ridiculous. His parents used to make the same comments about her. Colton shot her an impatient glare. "It wasn't on purpose. The butler just forgot to mention it. Don't start creating drama where there isn't any." He looked at her then, truly looked at her, and for a moment, his expression shifted to one of disdain. Allison had always been delicate, her skin flawless, and her features striking, especially her bright, clear eyes. But none of that mattered. She was boring, and that was all. The ideal housewife, yes--everything he could have wanted in a caretaker for his parents--but living with her was stifling. Allison ironed clothes and prepared meals with precision every day. Her routine was so predictable that Colton never had to wonder what she was doing. She was the picture-perfect housewife--dutiful and entirely devoted to staying home. But he was beyond tired of it. "And whether you accept the fact or not, you're leaving tonight." Colton hesitated, realizing how harsh he sounded. "You can move to Starfish Villas. Take the villa, it's yours." He had done his research on Allison. She came from a modest rural background, dropped out of school early, and hadn't seen much of the world. If it weren't for the fact that she had saved his grandfather's life, she would never have married into the Stevens family. In his mind, offering her the villa seemed more than generous for someone with her humble beginnings. But Allison's face didn't show gratitude. Instead, she offered him a thin, cold smile. "So, she's moving in now?" Allison didn't care about the villa or the four million he offered. She could make far more as a top-tier hacker. What hurt was being discarded after three years of loyalty. Colton sighed and said, "The room on the second floor was always hers. Melany's back and has nowhere else to stay, so I told her she could move in. If you're still here, she'll feel uncomfortable." Her silence was enough to annoy him, assuming she was unhappy with the deal. His frustration grew. "Don't push it. You need to know when enough is enough." He glanced at his watch, clearly counting down the time. "Now that I've lodged my divorce petition, we'll meet in the courthouse in a few days. You'd better make preparations and hire a lawyer..." He did not get to finish. "I know what to do," Allison cut him off, her voice laced with disgust. Her mind wandered back to a childhood memory--when she was blinded and in grave danger. A boy carried her on his back for three days and nights, saving her life. That boy had said his name was Colton Stevens. Now, three years after their marriage, that same boy was forcing her to leave. Time had an uncanny way of warping people into strangers. "I'll go," Allison said, snapping back to the moment. She stood up and looked at Colton firmly with detachment. "From now on, we owe each other nothing." Colton let out a breath, relieved. "Good." As if on cue, the housekeeper, Kaelyn Thorpe, appeared at the top of the stairs, struggling with a suitcase. "Sir, your parents called and said Ms. Clarke needs to leave right away, so I packed her things... Oh no!" Before she could finish, she dramatically yelped and pretended to twist her ankle. Allison's suitcase tumbled down the stairs, spilling her belongings everywhere. Chapter 2 Return "Ms. Clarke, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!" Kaelyn hurried down the stairs, her face a picture of exaggerated concern. "Maybe you can just toss everything in a bag for now?" she added, hiding her disdain behind a sweet smile. Kaelyn had always looked down on Allison, seeing her as nothing more than a poor country girl who'd shamelessly latched onto Colton for a better life. Colton frowned in frustration. "You're so clumsy!" he snapped, glancing at the scattered clothes. Allison's suitcase contained so little--a few clothes and hardly any jewelry. She hadn't even spent much of the money he had given her over the years. She lived simply, frugally, and it was a reflection of how she had never tried to take advantage of her status. But love couldn't be forced or faked. "Melany's luggage takes priority. Just toss Allison's things in a storage bag," Colton added dismissively, eyeing the broken suitcase. "I'll have the housekeeper buy you a new one tomorrow." Allison gave a faint, bitter smile. "That suitcase was the one I stole from the kidnappers when we were running for our lives. If it hadn't been for it, we would've drowned back then." For years, she had taken care of that suitcase--just as she had taken care of their marriage. And now, like their relationship, it lay shattered. Colton let out a cold laugh. "That story might fool my grandfather, but it doesn't work on me." The memory of being kidnapped as a child was too vague, and he always doubted that Allison had been with him during that time. Turning to Kaelyn, Colton raised his voice. "Hurry up and pack her things!" "Yes, sir," Kaelyn eagerly began to gather Allison's clothes, but she deliberately stepped on them, dirtying them in the process. With a sickly sweet tone, she mocked, "Ms. Clarke, Mr. Stevens' grandmother always says that people are like clothes. Once a person's clothes are stained, it doesn't matter how much you wash; the marks never truly fade." Allison had always been kind to Kaelyn, even when she didn't have to be. After all, Kaelyn was a distant relative of Colton's grandmother. Years ago, when Kaelyn had made a blunder that nearly put the Stevens family at odds with Kellan Lloyd, the eldest son of the Lloyd family, it was Allison who had smoothed the waters. She had negotiated a deal with Kellan, who was paralyzed, securing the critical land for the Stevens' commercial project. Back then, Kaelyn had been grateful, almost humbled. But now, emboldened by the winds of change within the Stevens family, Kaelyn acted as if she had never bent the knee. It all boiled down to one thing--Colton's grandmother's favor had drifted, and with it, so had the family's attitude. "If clothes get dirty, you're right," Allison said, her eyes flicking to Colton, "they're impossible to clean completely." She shrugged, a casual finality in her voice. "So, I won't be needing them anymore." She had never liked those bland, shapeless things anyway. They had never quite suited her. For the first time, Colton looked at Allison as if seeing her through a new lens--her usual softness was now replaced with a sharp edge. After saying that, Alison turned and walked away. Stepping out of the villa, Allison dialed a familiar number. When the call connected, her voice was calm, almost light. "Rebecca, I'm divorced, and I've moved out of his villa. My house and car are still in Vrining. Mind if I crash at your place for the night?" On the other end of the line, Rebecca Green went from silence to squealing joy within seconds. "Holy crap! You finally divorced that i**ot! Forget crashing--you're staying over for a party! A single's party!" Even from a distance, Allison could hear Rebecca's exaggerated laughter bubbling through the phone. "If the folks at Cobweb find out the founder is back, the servers will explode!" Chapter 3 Cruise Party Inside the villa, Colton's gaze falling on the dining table loaded with food. Frustration flared inside him, especially as his mind flashed back to the memory of Allison just left earlier. Allison had stayed composed, but something about her felt colder, harsher than before--far from the docile, compliant woman he once knew. But the thought slipped away quickly. To him, Allison would always be that dull, submissive housewife. Without him, she'd be nothing. Outside the villa, a sleek Lamborghini pulled up, and a woman stepped out. "Allison, darling!" Rebecca rushed over and wrapped Allison in a warm embrace. "You know, you could live at my place forever if you wanted to!" Rebecca, the only daughter of the Eternity Group's owners, practically owned half the city's skyline. A roof over Allison's head was hardly an issue. "So, what on earth happened tonight?" Rebecca asked, pressing close, her cheek resting against Allison's neck. "You still smell like cooking oil. Don't tell me you were cooking for that m**on again?" Allison felt the familiar tightness in her throat, emotions rising as Rebecca's hug warmed her. "Let's talk in the car," she said. Once inside the Lamborghini, Allison began to recount what had happened this whole day. Her voice remained steady, but Rebecca's temper flared like a spark igniting dry wood. "Can you believe this? Colton got dumped by Melany on their wedding day, and now he's trying to crawl back to her by divorcing you? They're made for each other--two peas in a rotten pod!" Rebecca raged. "And his parents!" Rebecca added, her anger rising like a storm. "You've been looking after them for three years, bending over backward for that family, and this is the thanks you get?" Rebecca continued her tirade, her words like b*llets. "Listen, he's lost his memory of that incident in his childhood, sure, but that doesn't excuse what he's done. You've more than paid your dues over the last three years. There's no point pretending to be the woman he wants anymore. You've wiped that slate clean." Allison slouched in the passenger seat, her gaze distant as the world blurred past her window. "It's done. We're even now." For three years, she'd molded herself into Colton's image of the perfect woman. She'd ditched her heels, pulled her hair back, and settled for modest, boring outfits--ones she didn't even like--all to mirror Melany. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't compete with the woman he truly loved. "Allison, the truth is, the Stevens family doesn't deserve someone like you." Rebecca's voice softened, thick with the weight of emotions as she sensed Allison's exhaustion. "Divorce is a process, but until it's settled, you'll stay with me. You're like a sister to me, anyway." Allison managed a small smile. "Okay." Growing up in an orphanage, Allison had never had any family members. But Rebecca had always treated her better than anyone ever had. Their conversation trailed off as they arrived at an exclusive makeup studio. Rebecca rolled down the window and waved enthusiastically at Mary Brown, a famous makeup artist. "Hey, Mary! Got a little project for you!" Allison rubbed her temples, g**aning softly, "Honestly, I'm wiped. I don't think I can handle makeup tonight." "Oh, come on! You're not planning to keep that whole tired, 'still-waiting-for-him' look, are you?" "Yeah... Definitely not." "Exactly!" Rebecca's face lit up. "Relax and let the pros do their magic. These are top-tier, international artists. Tonight, they're bringing out the version of you the world's been missing!" Thirty minutes later, the transformation was undeniable. Nearly everyone who saw her in the mirror was momentarily stunned. Allison's naturally striking features had always been overshadowed by exhaustion. But now, with just a touch of makeup, she was breathtaking. Her long, feline eyes, accentuated by just the right amount of shadow, were captivating without going overboard. A delicate beauty mark drawn near the corner of her eye added a hint of daring that felt almost rebellious. Even Rebecca couldn't contain her excitement. "This... this is the Allison I remember!" She gestured to a rack of dresses being brought in. "Sweetheart, pick any gown that calls to you. I pulled out all the stops for tonight. We're celebrating your freedom on a luxury yacht. I swear, it's going to be a night you won't forget!" Allison waved it off. "I'm not in the mood." Rebecca watched her closely, sensing she could still be holding onto the past. Time to pull out the big guns! "You know there are going to be international perfumers at this party, right? Including the brains behind Charisma Company! Don't tell me you're not curious to finally meet him." Charisma was the country's most prestigious perfume brand. Allison had crossed paths with the CEO at an international perfumery competition. His creations had been nothing short of art. For the first time in forever, they evoked a feeling of déjà vu, something about them reminding her of her mother's style. But like her, the CEO was an enigma. He'd never showed up in public, even as Charisma shot to global fame. No one knew what he looked like, not even now. "Alright, let's check it out." Allison finally relented, her curiosity piqued. After all, she'd once hacked into Charisma's database, coming up empty-handed. And something in her gut still whispered that this mysterious perfumer could be linked to her mother, somehow... ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &5&

Her stepsister stole her husband, just like her stepmother had once stolen her father. After learning she had stomach cancer, she found a way to get her husband to sign the divorce agreement. Thirty days later, they met again at a global technology conference. The arrogant man who had once looked down on her stood before her with bloodshot eyes. He desperately begged for another chance. Her brothers broke down in tears and pleaded for forgiveness. She simply turned around and walked away. ===== Stage II adenocarcinoma. The doctor slid the medical report across the polished mahogany desk. The diagnosis printed in black against the white page looked less like medical information and more like a death sentence. Roselyn Hudson watched the doctor's mouth move, yet none of his words seemed to reach her. Above them, the fluorescent lights hummed without pause, the sound pounding against her head. Breathing became difficult. The air around her felt scarce. Sweat gathered at the back of her neck before tracing a path down her spine. No tears came. Instead, she dug her nails into her palm until half-moon marks appeared in her skin, but even then, she felt nothing. What are the odds? Roselyn asked in an even voice. The doctor seemed taken aback by how calm she sounded. Patiently, he explained the treatments available to her. Targeted therapy. The possibility of surgery. The difficult months waiting ahead. Without any change in expression, Roselyn listened and nodded. Not long afterward, she left the hospital. As soon as the heavy glass door closed behind her, the strength left her legs. Down the cold tiled wall of the hallway she sank until her knees met the floor. The report remained locked against her ch**t. A sudden knot tightened in her stomach, and the tumor inside her made itself known again. Suddenly, her phone vibrated inside her purse. Her shaking fingers reached for it. The message was from her husband, Adrian Riley. Don't wait for me tonight. I have a business meeting. The text carried the same distance and indifference she had come to expect. As the successor of Riley Group, Adrian stood at the center of the city's largest real estate empire. For the past three years, Roselyn had quietly filled the role of the quiet wife behind him. She had given up a future in AI medical research. She had taken care of his home. She had tolerated the ridicule of the people around him. Through it all, she had loved him. Earlier that morning, however, a sweet unfamiliar perfume had lingered on his collar. Not long after that, his phone screen had lit up with a message from someone saved under a single name. Emma. Emma Hudson. Emma was Roselyn's half-sister. She was the daughter born from their father's af**ir with Sophia Grant. Sophia had once destroyed Roselyn's mother's marriage. Now it seemed the same story was beginning all over again. With those innocent eyes and that soft voice of hers, Emma had ended up in Adrian's bed. Roselyn's eyes remained fixed on the message. Another wave of pain tore through her stomach, spreading through her like fire. One tear slipped free. She brushed it away and her expression turned cold. Then she unlocked her phone and searched for two things. The rules for dividing assets after a divorce and the price of targeted treatment for stomach cancer. Forty minutes later, her car rolled into the garage at the Riley estate. Adrian's Aston Martin wasn't there. Good. He wasn't at home. Without hesitation, she headed for Adrian's study. The room carried the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with leather. Her destination was the safe concealed behind a painting. The code wasn't difficult to remember. It was Adrian's birthday. A click sounded from the lock. From inside, Roselyn removed a thick stack of contracts related to an acquisition Adrian was preparing for. After that, she located their prenuptial agreement. Carrying it to the shredder, she fed the document through one page at a time. Once it was gone, she printed a standard divorce agreement and carefully completed the asset division section using the information she had just researched. Afterward, she made a copy of the cancer diagnosis. The divorce agreement and medical report were then slipped into the middle of the contract stack. Next, she picked up her phone and called Jenifer Riley. Jenifer was Adrian's mother. She was also the person who controlled the Riley family's finances. For as long as Roselyn could remember, Jenifer had looked down on her and considered her nothing more than a woman after the Riley family's money. What do you want? Jenifer asked. Impatience filled her voice. Mrs. Riley, Roselyn said evenly. "I'm calling about my divorce with Adrian. I need him to sign the agreement tonight, and we need to discuss the settlement." Silence followed on the other end. A moment later, a quiet laugh escaped Jenifer. In her eyes, Roselyn had finally accepted reality and realized she would never truly fit into the Riley family. So you're finally showing your true colors, Jenifer said in a clipped tone. "Come to my place tomorrow morning. I'll handle everything from there." I'll be there, Roselyn replied before ending the call. Her eyes drifted to the documents spread across the table. A faint, bitter smile appeared on her lips. Only after midnight did the front door open. Loosening his tie, Adrian stepped into the living room. The scent of al**hol lingered on him, mixed with that familiar perfume. Roselyn remained seated on the couch. The stack of papers rested on the coffee table between them. Why haven't you gone to bed yet? Adrian asked with a frown as he ran a hand through his hair. There wasn't a trace of guilt on his face. What showed instead was irritation. These need your signature, Roselyn said as she pushed the documents toward him. "Your mother said they were related to the acquisition and needed to be handled right away." A long sigh escaped Adrian. He was well aware that his mother and Roselyn had never gotten along. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a pen and opened the thick file. Inside her ch**t, Roselyn's heart pounded relentlessly. Outwardly, however, she showed nothing. Using one finger, she indicated the last page. Sign here, and here. Tired and convinced Roselyn knew nothing about corporate matters, Adrian didn't waste time looking through the hundreds of pages. His signature quickly landed on every marked line. Without realizing it, he signed away his marriage together with the acquisition documents. Afterward, Adrian dropped the pen onto the floor. You don't look well, he said, his brow tightening further. The remark carried criticism, not concern or kindness. "Roselyn, don't start creating problems right now. I'm exhausted. Just let me get some rest." For three years, Roselyn had loved this man. Now, there was nothing left. Only an ending she could finally see clearly. It's nothing. My stomach's bothering me again, Roselyn said softly. "It's an old issue." Ask Donna to make you some soup tomorrow, Adrian said before walking toward the bedroom. Alone in the dim room, Roselyn tightened her grip on the folder. Then she took out her phone and sent a message to her best friend, Nina Parker. I have cancer. I'm divorcing Adrian. Nina replied, "What? I'm on my way!" I still need to deal with a few things. Come tomorrow, Roselyn responded. After getting to her feet, she headed upstairs. When she reached the master bedroom, she noticed the door hadn't been fully closed. A voice drifted from inside. It was Adrian. Emma, sl**p well. Roselyn stopped where she was. Pain churned through her stomach once again, but not a sound escaped her lips. Without looking inside, she continued past the room and entered the guest bedroom. They hadn't shared the same bedroom for months. After locking the door, she placed the signed documents inside the nightstand drawer. Under the faint light, she began writing. "Freedom Countdown. Sign the divorce agreement. Secure financial compensation. Return to my career. Keep the diagnosis secret." One final word was added. "Survive." Whatever happened, she had to survive. No one could know the truth. She would allow them to believe she was simply causing trouble. Without water, she swallowed two strong painkillers. Still wearing her clothes, she lay down on the bed and stared upward until daylight slipped through the curtains. By morning, Adrian was already standing near the front entrance, adjusting his watch. As Roselyn came downstairs, he glanced at her briefly. Then he walked out without another look. Soon, everything would be finished. The divorce agreement had already been signed. Drawing in a steady breath, Roselyn picked up her phone and called Jenifer. I'll arrive in thirty minutes. Chapter 2 You're A Snake Roselyn occupied a velvet armchair in the spacious living room. Across from her, Jenifer sat with a saucer in hand while her manicured nails struck against it at regular intervals. The gesture made her irritation obvious. Without a word, Roselyn pushed a document over the glass coffee table. Jenifer took the papers and looked through them. As soon as she reached the end of the document, her eyebrows shot up. She sl**ped it down onto the table. Thirty million dollars? Jenifer's sharp voice shattered the silence. "Have you completely lost your senses, Roselyn? What have you ever done for the Riley family that makes you think you're entitled to that amount? This is nothing but blackmail!" Not a single change appeared on Roselyn's face. She opened her designer handbag and removed a silver flash drive. Then she set it down in front of Jenifer. Every claim I've made can be verified, said Roselyn. "The drive contains records proving Adrian moved substantial marital assets into an offshore account under Emma's name. It also contains internal correspondence detailing how Riley Group dealt with tax issues connected to a major development project from last year." Jenifer's face immediately lost all color. Her grip tightened against the armrests. I'm only asking for what is legally mine. On top of that, I deserve compensation for the emotional harm I've endured. Roselyn settled back into her seat as she spoke. "If you choose not to agree, these documents will be submitted together with my divorce filing. The moment that happens, they'll become part of the public record. I imagine both the media and the IRS will be very interested in reviewing them." Jenifer stared at her, breathing hard. Only then did she understand how badly she had misjudged Roselyn. For years, she had seen Roselyn as someone weak and obedient. You're a snake, Jenifer spat through clenched teeth. You should know-I learned it from watching people like you, Roselyn retorted. Jenifer's expression hardened. If information like this ever got out, Riley Group could lose hundreds of millions in value. Compared to that, thirty million dollars was nothing. Fine. Jenifer gave in reluctantly. "But you're signing a nondisclosure agreement first. Then pack everything you own and leave Adrian's house." I have no problem with that, Roselyn agreed. Without hesitation, she accepted the NDA from Jenifer, signed it, and stood. You have three days to transfer the money into my account. If that deadline passes, the files will be released automatically. Leaving the house behind, Roselyn headed for the exit. The oak door shut behind her with a heavy sound. The moment she settled into her car, a slight tremor ran through her hands. She had succeeded. Instead of going home, she drove to her office. Long before she became Adrian's wife, Roselyn had helped establish a medical AI technology company as one of its founding engineers. After the marriage, however, fewer and fewer people viewed her the same way. She walked through the familiar hallways. The efficient, professional atmosphere felt completely different from the endless conflict surrounding the Riley family. Outside the office of Gerald Hardy, the company's operations director, she paused and knocked on the door. Surprise flashed across Gerald's face when he saw her. "Roselyn? I wasn't expecting you. Come in and have a seat." From her bag, Roselyn took out a white envelope and handed it over. "Gerald, I've decided to step down from my nonexecutive board position. For now, I'll also be transferring my voting rights." As Gerald reviewed the letter, a frown slowly appeared. "Does this have something to do with Mr. Riley's af**ir?" My health is the reason, Roselyn answered. She offered no further explanation. "Right now, I need time to rest." After signing the paperwork, Gerald let out a sigh. "No matter what happens, there'll always be a place for you here." Thank you. For the first time that day, Roselyn truly felt grateful. After leaving his office, she made her way toward the elevators. A hand suddenly caught the doors before they could shut completely. Nate Robinson stepped into the elevator. As Adrian's executive assistant, his arrogance rivaled that of his employer. Mrs. Riley, Nate sneered as his gaze swept over her. What brings you here? To see Mr. Riley? You know he can't stand it when you follow him around. Roselyn felt her stomach tighten. To steady herself, she rested a hand against her abdomen and kept her breathing under control. I'm here to complete the process of leaving the board, Roselyn replied calmly. "And from this point forward, you'll address me as Ms. Hudson." A moment of surprise crossed Nate's face before he burst out laughing. "Leaving the board? Is this another one of your attempts to get attention? Does Mr. Riley even know you're doing this?" Roselyn kept her eyes on the elevator doors and didn't look at him. "That's not something you need to concern yourself with." When the elevator reached the lobby, the doors opened. Without another word, Roselyn stepped out. Behind her, Nate remained where he was, still wearing that disdainful look. Once she returned to her car, Roselyn pulled out a notebook. She crossed off the second item on her list-secure financial compensation. Then she placed a check mark beside the first item-sign the divorce agreement. Below the four items, she wrote something new. "Freedom Countdown: 30 Days." A vibration came from her phone. A message appeared on her phone from her cousin, Stefan Hudson. Roselyn, there's a private dinner happening tonight. Would you like to come with me? For several seconds, Roselyn looked at the text. Exhaustion weighed on her. The stress and the tumor had left her body aching. Even so, she needed to start rebuilding her connections. She needed to find the version of herself that existed before Adrian became part of her life. Her fingers moved across the screen. "Where is it, and what time does it start?" Silence filled the house when Roselyn arrived home. In the hallway, Donna Flynn, the elderly housekeeper who had always been kind to her, was busy dusting. The moment Donna saw her, concern showed on her face. Roselyn's pale appearance was impossible to miss. Mrs. Riley, are you alright? Donna, I'd rather you call me Roselyn. I'm alright. Just a little tired. Actually, I'll be moving out soon. Shock spread across Donna's face. "Moving out? Oh dear... I'm sorry to hear that." Donna understood better than anyone how Roselyn had been treated under that roof. You don't need to be sorry. A smile appeared on Roselyn's lips. Though tired, it was genuine. "This is the right decision." Roselyn headed for the guest room upstairs. A suitcase came out, and she started packing her belongings. Everything Adrian had purchased for her remained exactly where it was. Her gaze settled on the closet after it had been emptied. At that moment, something she hadn't felt in years stirred inside her-anticipation. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she opened her laptop and began writing an email to the mentor who had guided her in the past. Is there still room for me on the new AI diagnostics project we talked about last year? The email was sent. Before two minutes had passed, a response arrived. Roselyn! We've been waiting for you. After closing the laptop, Roselyn sat quietly for a moment. Goodbye, Adrian, she whispered to the empty room. Chapter 3 I Owe Him My Life For the private dinner, Roselyn picked out a black dress with a clean, elegant design. Just as she prepared to head out, her phone started ringing. Roselyn, I owe you an apology. An inspection came up and delayed me. Stefan sounded rushed. "So I asked a friend to pick you up instead. He's already outside waiting." A frown crossed Roselyn's face. "Stefan, that's unnecessary. I can make it there myself." Relax, you'll be fine with him. I'll see you at the restaurant. Before she could respond, Stefan ended the call. With her clutch in hand, Roselyn took the elevator down to the first floor. At the curb, a black Maybach was already parked. When she neared the vehicle, the driver got out and opened the rear door. Roselyn stepped inside. Someone else was already seated on the opposite side. The light from a tablet cast a glow across his features. Sharp bone structure. A calm expression. An authority that didn't need to be announced. His presence alone was difficult to ignore. The man sitting there was Kevin Wheeler. Roselyn stopped cold. Kevin turned to look at her. For a split second, something intense flickered across his face before disappearing. The change vanished so quickly that she couldn't be certain she had seen it at all. Hello, Roselyn greeted with a courteous smile. My name is Roselyn Hudson. I'm Stefan's cousin. Thank you for coming to get me. Kevin Wheeler. His voice was low and steady. "Stefan talks about you often. From what I understand, you've had a difficult time recently." Roselyn immediately grew guarded. Without thinking, she closed her fingers into her palms. Why would Stefan tell him something so personal? There are a few things in my life that need to be dealt with, she said after a pause. Rather than questioning her further, Kevin offered, "If you find yourself needing assistance, you can reach out to me." His tone remained casual, yet the offer felt far more significant than it should have. Confusion flickered across Roselyn's face. She couldn't understand why someone she had only just met would extend that kind of offer. Soon afterward, the Maybach rolled into the underground parking area of an upscale restaurant. Kevin stepped out and opened the door for her. Standing next to him made most people feel diminished by comparison. Roselyn rarely experienced anything like that. Together, they made their way into a private dining room where Stefan was already seated and motioning for them to join him. As the dinner continued, Roselyn began to understand the extent of Kevin's influence. He wasn't simply a friend of Stefan's. He was one of the investment world's most influential figures, someone capable of shaping the future of countless companies with a single decision. Even so, he spent most of the evening listening rather than speaking. Stefan carried much of the conversation with one story after another. Several glasses of w**e later, Stefan started talking about their family's past. Roselyn's uncle, Arthur Cunningham, was a legend, Stefan said with a grin. Arthur Cunningham? Kevin repeated. The way he said the name was noticeably quieter. "He is your uncle?" A nod came from Roselyn as a familiar sadness surfaced inside her. "That's right. He passed away many years ago." Kevin didn't look away. Something about the way he watched her sent a sudden shock through Roselyn. I owe him my life, Kevin said. The amusement vanished from Stefan's face. Roselyn became completely still. Many years ago, he pulled me out of a situation that should have ki**ed me, Kevin continued. His gaze remained fixed on her. "Afterward, he never asked for anything in return." An old memory surfaced in Roselyn's mind. She remembered hearing that Arthur had once rescued a boy from a vehicle engulfed in flames. He had been so happy because of that, but he had never revealed who that boy was. Since then, I've never forgotten what I owe him, Kevin said. "Meeting you tonight finally gives me a chance to repay that debt." Roselyn thought of the uncle who had always shown her kindness. Her throat tightened as emotion rose inside her. "That's not necessary. My uncle would've done the same for anyone. You don't owe me anything." I disagree. I know exactly what I owe. Kevin's voice made it clear he wasn't open to debate. "If there's ever something you need, all you have to do is tell me." Sensing the atmosphere growing heavier, Stefan cut in, "Roselyn, do you realize how valuable that offer is? Getting a favor from Kevin is like hitting the jackpot." Roselyn turned her attention to Kevin. There was no trace of pity in his eyes. All she found there was sincerity. She needed support now more than ever. Even so, she wanted to hold on to what remained of her pride. Thank you, Kevin, Roselyn whispered. "If the day comes when I have nowhere else to turn, I'll remember what you've offered." The corner of Kevin's mouth lifted slightly. Once dinner ended, Kevin refused to let her find her own way home and arranged for the driver to take her back. The ride passed in silence. When the car finally arrived outside her apartment building, Roselyn stepped out onto the sidewalk. Roselyn. Kevin's voice stopped her before she could walk away. "Don't forget what I said." Roselyn caught her breath. Before any response could leave her lips, the darkened window rose, and the Maybach disappeared into the night. A cool breeze brushed against her coat while she remained standing on the sidewalk. Her arms folded across her body as one thought after another ran through her mind. There was no doubt that Kevin was a dangerous man. Yet after everything she had gone through, he was also the first person to offer her something completely genuine. Chapter 4 Stop Making A Scene The following day, Roselyn met Nina at the hotel cafe. Across the table, Nina used the edge of her fork to cut into a slice of red velvet cake. I still don't know how you pulled that off. Thirty million dollars from Jenifer? That's unbelievable. Disbelief filled Nina's face as she shook her head. "Once she saw those financial records, she didn't have anywhere to run." Only a small smile appeared on Roselyn's face. Beneath the table, she quietly pressed her fist against her abdomen as a sharp cramp tore through her stomach. I just had something valuable enough to negotiate with. The strain in Roselyn's voice was difficult to hide. Nina was too caught up in the conversation to notice how drained Roselyn looked. "Oh, right. I think I spotted Kevin upstairs earlier." A playful smile spread across her face. "The man who offered to help you." Getting to her feet, Roselyn moved quickly. "Excuse me. I need to go to the restroom." Leaving the cafe behind, she walked into the hotel's grand main corridor. Without warning, another surge of pain hit her. The pain became so severe that she had no choice but to stop beside a marble column and brace herself against it. Her eyes closed as she concentrated on the breathing techniques her doctor had taught her. Several moments later, the pain finally began to ease. Slowly, she opened her eyes again. Directly across the corridor stood a luxury jewelry boutique. Carefully arranged lighting reflected against rows of glass display cases. One particular piece drew Roselyn's attention. An extraordinary sapphire and diamond necklace occupied the center of the display. Its name was "True Love." Roselyn caught sight of it and froze for a moment. Six months ago, Adrian had brought her to this same boutique. Standing beside her, he had pointed at the necklace and spoken in a low voice. "That necklace belongs to you, Roselyn. No one else should wear it." Back then, she had accepted every word as truth. Looking back, she felt fo**ish. Roselyn was ready to leave when movement inside the boutique caught her attention. All the color vanished from her face. For a moment, she couldn't move. The two people entering the store were Adrian and Emma. Through the spotless glass, Roselyn watched Adrian speak with the store manager. With an eager nod, the manager unlocked the display at the center of the boutique. Carefully, he removed the necklace and handed it over to Adrian. Adrian turned toward Emma. Using his own hands, he secured the necklace around her neck. An exaggerated g**p escaped Emma. Without any hesitation, she wrapped her arms around Adrian and ki**ed him. As he drew her closer, his hand came to rest at her waist. Concealed behind the marble column, Roselyn didn't move. Her nails bit into her palms until pain spread through her hands. A metallic bitterness settled in her mouth. The pain in her stomach intensified. Soon, the burning sensation rose into her throat. Breath became difficult to draw, yet her eyes remained fixed on them. With a shopping bag, Adrian and Emma eventually left the boutique. Roselyn tried to retreat farther into the shadows, but it was too late. Emma's sharp gaze locked onto her. A victorious gleam flashed across her eyes. Roselyn! What a surprise. Her sweet voice echoed through the corridor. Holding tightly to Adrian's arm, she guided him straight toward Roselyn. The moment Adrian noticed her, he stopped walking. Look at this. Adrian bought it for me. Lifting her chin, Emma made sure the newly acquired necklace was impossible to miss. "He told me the sapphires made him think of me." Nausea churned inside Roselyn, but she refused to let it show. What are you doing here, Roselyn? The question came from Adrian, and his voice carried nothing but cold disapproval. Anyone listening would've thought he was confronting a stranger instead of speaking to his wife. Roselyn met his gaze. How disappointing. This was the man she had given up her career for. This was the man she had once imagined spending her future with. I stopped by for coffee. Though Roselyn's voice sounded strained, it didn't waver. "I didn't expect to see you two." A frown appeared on Adrian's face. For the first time, he seemed to register how pale and unwell she looked. "Stop making a scene, Roselyn." Making a scene? A humorless laugh slipped from Roselyn's lips. "All I'm doing is standing here." Leaning against Adrian, Emma rested her head on his shoulder. "Adrian, we should leave. We still have to pick up my gown." Without another look at Roselyn, Adrian turned away. "You're right. Let's go." Roselyn remained where she was and watched them disappear around the corner. The moment they were gone, the adrenaline left her. The pain came rushing back with even greater force. It ripped through her body and almost drove her to her knees. She reached toward the marble column for support, but her hand missed. A strong arm caught her around the waist before she could fall. In the next second, she found herself held firmly against a solid ch**t. I've got you. The quiet voice sounded near her ear. Struggling for breath, Roselyn lifted her head through blurred vision. Kevin. Without any effort, he steadied her and led her toward a velvet bench tucked away from the main corridor. Kevin asked, "That man... is he your husband?" Roselyn shut her eyes. At last, a tear slipped free. "Yes, and the woman beside him is my half-sister." Something changed in Kevin's expression. Anyone could tell he was angry. "He humiliated you for another woman." It doesn't matter anymore, Roselyn whispered. Kevin's gaze shifted to the arm she still kept pressed across her stomach. "You don't look well." It's just an ulcer. I'll be alright. The answer came naturally, but her uneven breathing exposed the lie. For a long moment, Kevin said nothing. He clearly didn't accept her explanation, yet he let it go. What I said before still stands. The edge in his voice softened. "Whenever you're ready to be honest with me, I'll listen." Footsteps suddenly echoed from around the corner. Moments later, Nina appeared, panic written across her face. "Roselyn! I've been looking everywhere for you! I saw Adrian and..." The rest of her sentence vanished when she noticed Kevin. With a brief nod, Kevin acknowledged her presence. Before leaving, he gave Roselyn one last look. "Take care of her," he said to Nina. Then he turned away and disappeared into the crowd without another word. Nina hurried over and took hold of Roselyn's hands. "Roselyn, your hands are freezing. What happened? And why was Kevin with you?" Drawing in a shaky breath, Roselyn tried to steady herself. "He helped me." Slowly, she rose from the bench. Her body still felt weak, but her thoughts had never been more certain. "Nina, please take me home. There's something I need to do first." ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &4&

Chapter 1 Love Locked Away Pain dragged Whitney Harrington awake. She blinked, staring at the shabby, leaky ceiling and then at her foot. Blood mixed with rainwater on the floor, each drop sharpening the ache. 'Wasn't I dead?' she wondered. 'I died because of Emily, that fake heiress who stole my family and took everything from me. I died at the hands of the family I longed for, the ones I gave up everything to please.' Even now, she could feel the pain from the crash. Afterward, the Andersons dragged her, who was on the verge of death, aside and tortured her. That was definitely no nightmare. "Whitney!" Suddenly, an angry voice cut through the rain. She looked up. A handsome, dangerous-looking man stepped into the shed, dripping wet. He didn't glance at her bleeding leg but snapped, 'Whitney, I didn't make you look bad in front of the cameras earlier. You scraped Emily's leg. Why can't you apologize? And you dare to sulk about it?' It was Chase Anderson, Whitney's fourth brother, the one who grabbed Whitney by the throat and smashed her head against the wall when she was barely clinging to life, only to show that Emily Anderson was the only sister he'd care about. Whitney stared at him, her eyes intense. Then, slowly, her lips curved into a wide, unsettling smile. With the rain pouring down, that smile looked downright eerie, chilling enough to make people's skin crawl. 'I'm back,' Whitney thought. 'I'm alive again. It's one year after I was brought back to the Anderson residence.' Looking back on everything from her previous life, Whitney found it all ironic and pathetic. She thought that by returning to her real family, she could finally have the family love she'd always craved. She thought she could finally have her own parents and brothers. So she gave up everything, groveling to every single member of the Anderson family, hoping to finally be accepted. But in the end, in the Andersons' hearts, there was only a place for Emily. Emily was the one they'd loved as their real daughter and sister for nineteen whole years. They'd even go out of their way to humiliate Whitney and treat her like she didn't exist, trying to make Emily feel good. And every time Emily cooked up some lame scheme to frame her, they'd always back Emily up, scold Whitney for being wrong, and force her to apologize to Emily. As long as Emily was there, Whitney would always be nothing more than a foil, a stepping stone, a pawn the Andersons used to please Emily. Just like right now. She was on a reality show called Real Survival. The whole thing was set up to fulfill Emily's dream of being a star. Chase, the top trending idol who could sing, dance, and rap, was roped in to team up with Emily. And Whitney was the ultimate sucker, the unlucky scapegoat, shoved in to make Emily look good. Real Survival was kind of like one of those wild survival shows. It was streamed live for everyone to see. The contestants were sent to a secluded island, completely cut off from the outside world. They could exchange whatever supplies they managed to find on the island or complete challenges set by the producers to get what they needed. Survival shows were never easy, after all. There was always some risk. Whitney's foot was left bloody and raw because, during a challenge with the other contestants at a steep slope, Emily schemed against her and tried to shove her off. Whitney caught on to what Emily was up to and dodged instinctively. But because she dodged, Emily lost her balance and almost tumbled down the slope. So Emily grabbed Chase at the last second. Whitney didn't care what would happened to Emily, but the thought of Chase getting hurt was something she couldn't stand. She managed to avoid Emily's trap, but she couldn't escape her own dumb instincts. In the end, to save Chase, she took the fall herself. And because Emily got a scrape, Chase totally lost it. Off-camera, he blew up at Whitney, accusing her of deliberately hurting Emily, and forced her to apologize. When Whitney refused, Chase even demanded the crew forbid the doctor from treating her injured foot. He let her bleed and faint from the pain. Whitney sneered inwardly, 'See? This is the so-called family love I've been chasing after all this time. 'For this so-called family love, I gave up everything, even my pride. Are they even worthy? Absolutely not!' "What's so funny?" Chase stared at Whitney, whose eyes locked onto him, hollow and deep. Her gaze was like a vortex in a bottomless pool. It felt as if she was drawing him into it little by little. He couldn't explain it, but a suffocating feeling crept over him. He was irritated. 'What gives this meek girl the right to look at me like that? Getting gutsy, huh?' he thought. Whitney lifted her injured foot, the bright red blood had covered her instep, making her foot look pretty disturbing. "Are you blind?" Whitney's voice was icy. "Can't you see I'm the real victim?" Chase hadn't expected Whitney to snap back at him. His expression shifted as he glanced at her foot, but he still stubbornly said, "You brought it on yourself." Whitney let out a cold laugh. "Why don't you get your head on straight before you talk to me? I fell because I pulled you back. Otherwise, you'd be the one lying here. Who are you to say I deserved this? "And you wouldn't let the crew treat me. That's what people call biting the hand that feeds you." Chase looked uneasy, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. He knew well that if Whitney hadn't grabbed him in time, he would've been the one tumbling down the slope. But he'd always acted like he was above Whitney, and he was used to her groveling and bending over backwards for him. Even if he was in the wrong, he'd never admit it. "This is payback for you having it out for Emily." Whitney looked at him with pure sarcasm, like he was a moron. She didn't waste her breath arguing with Chase. It was pointless to argue with him about right and wrong. The Andersons would only believe Emily. "Yeah, I really deserved it," Whitney said. 'In my previous life, I lost my life because of my own choices. Isn't that exactly what I deserved?' Whitney thought. 'I had to chase after the family love I was so desperate for and endure the Andersons' nonstop mind games. 'Though I knew there was never a place for me in the Anderson residence, I still foolishly believed that if I poured out my heart, I could somehow warm theirs. 'I'd been a fool all my life, and that stupidity cost me everything. This time, I won't waste a single hope on the Andersons ever again.' Chase looked at Whitney. Her face was utterly expressionless. Her indifference was like still water, calm, cold, and distant. It was directed at Chase, her own brother. Chase couldn't shake the faint sense of panic in his heart, as if something important was quietly slipping away from his life. Chase frowned, his tone softening a bit. "Whitney, apologize to Emily, and I'll get someone to treat your foot right away," he said. Whitney spat, "Get lost." Chase's face darkened instantly as he said, "Don't take my kindness for granted. If you keep stalling, your foot might end up beyond saving. The Anderson family would never accept a cripple." Chapter 2 Not Family Anymore Whitney found Chase amusing, and she almost sneered at her own stupidity in her previous life. Obviously, Chase knew how much she cared about the Anderson family, which was why he could use it as leverage against her without worrying about her retaliation. "Doesn't matter," Whitney said, her voice emotionless. "After all, you never treated me as family." She lifted her gaze, her calm eyes meeting Chase's, which were gradually widening in disbelief. "In this case, let's not be family anymore," she added. Chase never expected Whitney to say something like that. His handsome face turned cold in an instant. To him, Whitney had always been like a pet, always desperate for his approval, hoping he'd look her way. He couldn't stand the idea of the pet he kept getting out of control. Chase's voice was thick with anger. "Fine. Don't regret this, and don't come back, begging me to call you my sister again." He thought, 'Does she think threatening to cut ties would bother me? She's not Emily. She was the one who forced her way into the Anderson residence. 'She's the one who's trying to mess up my family. Does she think acting out like this would get to me? Not a chance.' "Did you ever treat me like your sister?" Whitney sneered. "You always said your sister would only be Emily." Chase's face twisted with anger as he said, "Glad you finally get it." With that, he walked away as he grumbled under his breath, "I must be a fool for coming here, trying to give you a chance to make things right. Since you don't appreciate it, stay here on your own." He walked into the pouring rain, never once looking back. In the past, Whitney would've never let Chase get drenched like that. Even limping, she would've dragged herself after him to apologize. But now, Whitney only scoffed. In her previous life, she'd spent years degrading herself for him and even thrown her life away. Now, she only gave him the cold shoulder once, but he couldn't stand it already. 'Well, from now on, he and the rest of the Andersons will have to get used to it,' she thought. The rain kept pattering outside. Whitney glanced up at the shabby shelter she found herself in. It was one of the shelters the production crew had set up. She'd injured her leg trying to save Chase and ended up as the last contestant to make it back, so she had to stay in the shabbiest shelter. The production team hadn't expected such a heavy downpour, and the shelter couldn't handle it. One corner even collapsed. They'd planned to find Whitney another place to stay. But when Chase saw Emily's scraped leg, he lost it and forced Whitney to stay in that rundown shelter as punishment. Meanwhile, he picked up Emily and headed for the winner's suite: the luxurious spot reserved for first place. Whitney remembered how, when she tried to hold onto Chase and ended up tumbling down the slope, he didn't hesitate, scooped Emily up in his arms, and walked away. He did that so he could seize first place and give Emily the winner's comfortable suite. He acted as if her life meant nothing to him. His indifference was even colder than the pouring rain outside. It chilled her to the bone. Back when her mind was messed up, Whitney would feel hurt and miserable, but most of all, she'd blame herself for not being good enough, as if it was her fault that Chase hated her so much. But now, she didn't care about his coldness anymore. Once she finally let go and saw things for what they were, she felt a weight lift off her shoulders. But she couldn't afford to ignore her foot. Without Chase's permission, the production team wouldn't dare risk offending the Andersons or Chase, their VIP, by letting the on-site doctor take a look at her foot. If she kept waiting, it wouldn't only be about losing too much blood. She might miss the best window for treatment. She sure as hell didn't want to end up a cripple in this life. She swung herself down and stood up. As soon as her foot touched the ground, a ripping pain shot through her, as if it was tearing through her foot and flooding her whole body. She frowned, but she could grit her teeth and bear it. Compared to the torture she went through before dying in her previous life, this pain was nothing. Back then, it was thousands of times worse. Whitney borrowed an umbrella from the crew and stepped into the wild woods. The crew watched as Whitney, pale as a ghost, left blood wherever she walked, until she disappeared from their sight. They felt a bit spooked, secretly sighing to themselves, 'This girl is hardcore. So young, but she's absolutely ruthless with herself. Even with injuries like that, she didn't make a peep. 'Meanwhile, Emily, the one Mr. Anderson brought, acted like a tiny scratch was as bad as a broken leg. If the doctor had been any slower, her cut would've healed on its own. That little princess was bawling louder than the rainstorm. 'Even though we've only been filming for two days, Whitney's already impressive. She breezed through every challenge we set up, acting like the wild island was her own backyard. But every time, Emily got all the praise. 'Whitney is a regular contestant with no background. Meanwhile, Emily is the Andersons' little princess, with Chase, the hottest star, always watching her back. That's the difference between the rich and a nobody.' The crew could only shake their heads in resignation until they suddenly realized Whitney was gone. It was a wild island. All the cameras were shut off now. She could run into danger or lose her bearings. Everyone started to panic. ***** Meanwhile, Whitney held her umbrella and trekked through the dense woods, heading to a spot about 1,600 feet away from the shelter the production team had arranged. Yesterday, while she was out searching for food, she'd noticed a huge field of medicinal herbs in this direction. This was a wild island. There were plenty of natural treasures growing here. She quickly found the herbs she needed in the wild. Ignoring the heavy rain, she crouched down, crushed the herbs, and applied them to her injured foot. She ground and applied the herbs at the same time. The umbrella resting on her shoulder began to slide off to the side. She held the crushed herbs in one hand, pressing them onto her injured foot with the other. Just as she was about to tilt her head and try to hold the umbrella between her shoulder and neck, a shadow loomed overhead, and a hand caught the umbrella before it could slip away. Whitney froze, her hands pausing mid-motion as she slowly lifted her head. A black umbrella was held firmly above her, shielding her from the rain. She glanced to the side and saw a pair of slender hands. Those hands took hold of her umbrella, gently lifting it off her shoulder. Whitney glanced over. Amid the relentless rain, a tall guy appeared at her side. He was dressed in a white T-shirt and black pants. Even in such basic clothes, he still radiated that effortless, aristocratic cool, like he was born to stand out. His face was sharp and clean-cut, with a cool, almost unreal aura. No one in the whole entertainment world, or even all of Centlandia, could hold a candle to him. Whitney knew right away who he was: Ryan Pierce. He was the true superstar of the entertainment world, with brilliance and honors unmatched anywhere in Centlandia. And most importantly, he was the heir to the Pierce Group, the leading force in Roynfort's business world, born into the highest echelon of society. Chapter 3 Her Real Family Whitney didn't really have much of an impression of this guy. The reason she could recognize him instantly, besides his jaw-dropping good looks, was that his face was so distinctive. There was another reason. Ever since Emily met Ryan, she always acted like she had him in the bag. But Ryan never bought into Emily's act. He never showed her any warmth from start to finish. Emily ended up in tears more than once because of Ryan. As for the Anderson family, they wouldn't dare mess with Ryan, who was basically royalty in Roynfort. No matter how much they doted on Emily, there was no way they'd stick their necks out for her and risk ticking Ryan off. Plus, Ryan's health wasn't great. When he came to the show, he had bodyguards trailing him in the shadows. Every single one of them was a former special forces soldier. The Andersons wouldn't dare go head-to-head with him. Emily cried a few times, but in the end, she had to give it up. Later, probably fed up with Emily constantly pestering him, Ryan left before the show was finished filming. He claimed he was feeling unwell. Of course, Ryan's early exit pissed off a ton of his fans. Emily had been throwing herself at Ryan during the livestream, which annoyed Ryan's Fans. As soon as Ryan left, a tidal wave of insults crashed down on her online. How did the Andersons deal with it in the end? That was when Whitney, the designated fall guy, got thrown under the bus. The Andersons didn't give her a heads-up. They paid for a planted story and had someone posing in a staff member's name, claiming Whitney had stripped naked and tried to seduce Ryan off-camera, which made him leave in a rage. It wasn't hard to guess what would happened next. Whitney was torn apart online. And the Andersons asked for more, forcing her to swallow all the hate to protect their reputation. Thinking about it, Whitney's eyes grew cold. Ryan was a last-minute addition to the show, joining on the second day of filming, which was today. She'd hurt her leg and passed out, so she hadn't crossed paths with him. She never expected that the guy everyone said was icy and out of reach, like some kind of deity, would be the one holding an umbrella for her right now. "Thanks," Whitney said to Ryan. He replied coldly, "It's okay." His casual tone, deep and magnetic, felt even more captivating in the endless rain. Whitney's long lashes quivered softly. She lowered her eyes and silently tended to her injured foot. Once she'd finished bandaging her foot, Whitney straightened up. With a handful of wet herbs in one hand, she extended her other hand toward Ryan. Ryan raised an eyebrow. "My umbrella," Whitney said. Ryan's thin lips curved slightly. For a split second, his aloof, elegant face seemed to light up the whole world. "My umbrella's big enough," he said. His deep, husky voice carried a hint of ambiguous amusement. It was as if he'd just discovered an intriguing prey. If it were anyone else, getting invited by Ryan to share an umbrella would have them over the moon, maybe even passing out from excitement. But Whitney reached out with a cool expression, took her umbrella back, and walked away without a second glance. That move made the smile on Ryan's elegant face grow even wider. His deep, aristocratic gaze lingered on Whitney's back, a subtle ripple of emotion flickering in his eyes. Whitney could feel his gaze lingering on her, almost burning into her back. She pressed her lips together, acted like she didn't notice a thing, and kept walking. 'Were all those stories about him fake?' Whitney wondered. But in her memory, this guy was so icy that the whole crew would get all nervous and respectful around him, not even daring to breathe too loudly. "You know medicine?" Ryan's deep, husky voice suddenly sounded from behind her. He had somehow caught up and was now walking behind her. Maybe it was the rain, but even though they weren't that close, his voice still felt like it was right by her ear. 'This guy is so charming,' Whitney thought. Whitney replied politely, but with a hint of indifference, "I know a bit." Whitney picked up the pace. Even with the herbs numbing the pain, she still limped along, her steps far from steady. A hand appeared in front of her. It was long and slender, almost luminous in the rain. Each finger was distinct, the joints clear and refined. Whitney was stunned. "Need a hand?" Ryan offered, his gaze lingering on her injured foot. "I can manage," Whitney said. She dodged his hand and kept limping forward. As she walked past Ryan, Whitney couldn't help but sneak a sideways glance at him. His captivating face showed barely any emotion. She had no idea what he was trying to do. Anyway, she wanted to keep her distance from him. Her refusal came as no surprise to Ryan. His legs carried him after Whitney. "You don't seem like someone who only 'knows a bit,'" he remarked. Whitney didn't reply, simply lowering her gaze. She was truly more than "a bit" knowledgeable. Before she was brought back to the Anderson residence, she'd always stayed by her mentor's side. Her mentor was a great doctor, renowned far and wide. During those years, she picked up countless skills from him and even outshone him. When the Andersons came to bring her home, her mentor gently patted her head and said, "Whitney, you're more gifted than any of my other students. "No matter what you learn, you pick it up effortlessly. If it weren't for your real family waiting for you, I truly wish you could inherit everything from me." Thinking of her mentor and the fellow students who always doted on her, Whitney felt her eyes grow hot with emotion. Regret flooded her heart. For the so-called family, a bunch of losers, she actually walked away from the people who truly loved her, who treated her like family. In her previous life, she really had shit for brains, like she was cursed or something. She threw away her pride, lost herself, only to chase after a "family." Her mentor and the fellow students were real family. Ryan followed Whitney, keeping an appropriate, steady distance. His gaze lingered on her slim back, and he quietly watched her. He could sense that a wave of sadness washed over her. He followed Whitney all the way to the shelter. Whitney closed her umbrella and realized Ryan was still behind her. "It's pouring. Shouldn't you be in your own cabin? Why are you still following me?" Ryan was the reigning superstar backed by the Pierce family in Roynfort, and he'd only landed on the wild island today. He didn't have to compete in any challenges or pick a room like everyone else. He got his own private room right when he arrived. 'Why would he leave his own solid, weatherproof cabin with all the comforts to hang out in my rundown shack?' Whitney wondered. Ryan glanced up at the roof, which was still dripping with rain. "I can help you." Whitney knew what he was getting at. If he said the word, she wouldn't have to tough it out in this miserable, leaky shack anymore. She'd have a professional doctor take care of her foot, and she wouldn't have to give a damn about what the Andersons thought. Chapter 4 Only You Can Cure Me Whitney said, "I don't need anything." She slowly lifted her gaze. Her deep eyes now flickering with a hint of mesmerizing brilliance. That light was so unwavering that anyone who met her eyes would trust her. "A bet's a bet. I'll accept the outcome," she said, her voice cool. "I lost this time, so I'll follow the rules." She paused, the light in her eyes growing even stronger. "But I won't lose again." That was her promise. Ryan met her gaze. He could sense the fierce determination radiating from her. He wasn't the type to meddle in other people's business. If he hadn't had his own reasons, he never would've set foot on this wild island or bothered with this boring reality show. But now, he was actually glad he came. He remembered watching her step into the pouring rain, walking through pools of blood. The scene was truly striking. Her silhouette looked so slender and gentle. Yet, he could sense an incredible strength in her. It was as if no matter what hardships she faced, nothing could break her unyielding spirit. That unwavering resolve reminded him of a moment from his own memories. By instinct, he followed her, shielded her from the rain with his umbrella, and wanted to help. He'd never felt this kind of impulse before or acted like this. It felt like some mysterious force was drawing him to her. Whitney narrowed her eyes, giving Ryan a puzzled look. 'His stare is getting stranger by the second,' she thought. Honestly, "strange" was the only word for it. From what Whitney remembered, he ignored Emily every time, and she wasn't on his radar either. From the moment he joined the show until he left, he and Whitney hadn't exchanged a single word. 'So why is this famously cold, ascetic guy suddenly trailing after me? What's he up to?' Whitney mused. Whitney felt a bit helpless. She pressed her lips together before saying, "Mr. Pierce, thanks for your kindness." Her chilly tone was a subtle way of telling him to back off. But Ryan smiled. "Actually, I need your help." "You need my help?" Whitney pointed at him and then at herself, her tone full of disbelief. When Ryan nodded, she couldn't help but laugh. "Me? A nobody? What could I possibly do for you?" Whitney purposely used the word "nobody" to highlight the gap between them, making it clear she wasn't in any position to help him. Ryan said, "I'm sick." "What?" Whitney stared at him, clearly confused. Ryan looked dead serious. "I'm sick, and I need you to cure me." Whitney was speechless. Then, she finally gave Ryan's ridiculously handsome face a proper look. And immediately, she noticed something off. There were dark, grayish shadows under his eyes, like he was haunted by death itself. Looking closer, his whole face and even the corners of his lips had this faint, bluish-white pallor. Something was indeed off. "I've been sick ever since I was born. I tried every specialist I could find, but none of them could help me," Ryan said slowly. Whitney rubbed her chin, thinking. 'So Ryan really is sick. That whole delicate, fragile beauty vibe isn't just an act. It's actually true,' she thought. "With your background and status, getting a top doctor, even Davis Russell, the president of the Medical Association, to treat you should be no problem," Whitney said. She couldn't believe that, with all the power Ryan had behind him, he'd come to her for help because she could identify a few herbs. That was absurd. Ryan's perfectly sculpted brows lifted with a hint of a smile, and his gaze on Whitney became even deeper. He chuckled softly. "I've already been to see Davis. He told me himself that he couldn't help." Whitney was a bit surprised. She knew full well what Davis was capable of. If even that old man couldn't do anything, then Ryan's illness must be really tough. But Whitney didn't agree right away. She raised an eyebrow and asked, "If even Davis, the top doctor in the country, can't help you, what makes you think I can?" Ryan said, "Just a gut feeling." Whitney was speechless. 'Honestly, his gut feeling is spot on,' she thought. "I'm going to rest now," Whitney said, turning away. She clearly had no intention of talking to Ryan anymore. She was dismissing him without hesitation. Ryan wasn't in any rush for an answer. He nodded slightly. "Go ahead and rest." But he still didn't move. Whitney ignored him. 'If he's so sick, why's he sitting out here in the cold? If things get worse, that's on him,' Whitney thought. She settled herself in a dry corner of the shelter, away from the dripping rain, and slowly closed her eyes. Meanwhile, Ryan watched Whitney intently. Her face, even smudged with dirt, still radiated a striking, vibrant confidence. His thin lips quirked into a slow, subtle smile. With one hand in his pocket, he looked up, gazing at the relentless downpour overhead. He remembered what Davis had told him. "There's only one person in this world who might be able to cure you: my mentor." Ryan had no idea who Davis's mentor was. Davis wouldn't say a word about his mentor. He had to rely on the Pierce family's secret network to get a tip: Davis's mentor would be showing up on this wild island. That was why he ended up here. He couldn't keep dragging it out. His health was getting worse. ***** Night fell, and suddenly, a burst of noise broke the silence. Whitney opened her eyes and saw the area ahead lit up, with people bustling around. They were all crew members from the show. The rain had stopped at some point. "You're awake?" Suddenly, a clear and mellow voice came from right beside her ear. Startled, Whitney instinctively swung her fist toward the source of the voice. But her fist didn't hit anything. Instead, a long, elegant hand firmly caught it mid-air. Ryan was somehow sitting next to her, side by side. They were very close. Whitney could even catch a whiff of his scent: a subtle, cedar-like fragrance that was cool and distant. 'Why is he still here?' Whitney thought. 'I actually slept so soundly in front of a total stranger? 'I didn't even notice when he got this close. When did my guard get so low?' Whitney gave her hand a tug to free herself from his grasp. Ryan released her wrist as soon as she pulled away. "The rain's stopped. The crew was about to start shooting again." Whitney pulled her hand back, stood up, and stepped away from him. "Why are you still here?" Ryan didn't answer. Instead, he looked down at her feet. Her injured foot had already stopped bleeding, and it didn't hurt anymore. She'd stepped away from Ryan just fine. Whitney glanced at her foot, already knowing what Ryan was thinking. "My injury isn't serious," she said. 'So it's no surprise a few herbs did the trick,' she thought. 'Stop looking at me like I'm some genius doctor. Even if you see me as one, I'm not going to treat you.' Whitney carefully moved her foot, testing the injury. She could walk just fine, but if she overdid it, the wound would still sting. It would take at least two days for her to fully heal. This wild island survival show made her burn through a ton of energy every day. And there were plenty of dangerous missions to tackle, too. Whitney couldn't help but wonder if her foot would actually hold up through all of it. Chapter 5 Emily Pulls Her Old Trick Again Just then, a staff member walked over, heading straight for Ryan. "Mr. Pierce," he said. He called out to Ryan, but his eyes flicked over to Whitney. Ryan lifted his eyelids slightly, his expression calm. The staff member said, "We're about to start filming. Mr. Pierce, would you like to head back to your room for now?" Ryan had arrived while the show was on a break. His presence hadn't been officially announced yet. So he wasn't supposed to appear on the livestream alongside Whitney, who was a regular participant, especially considering she was already infamous from day one. "No need," Ryan replied, looking indifferent. The staff member didn't press further. As he left, he couldn't help but glance at Whitney again. He thought, 'She's so lucky. She actually scored a backer like Ryan. Being seen on camera with Ryan is like winning the lottery. She's going to be famous. 'All the hate she's gotten these past few days on the livestream is about to disappear because of Ryan.' Whitney was confused, thinking, 'He's a superstar. Why does he keep following a nobody like me?' Since Ryan stubbornly refused to leave, the production team had no choice but to keep Whitney's livestream off for now. They decided to wait until the show was back on, stir up some buzz, and then unleash Ryan, the superstar and traffic generator. Whitney looked at Ryan, her expression deadpan. "So if I don't agree to treat you, are you going to keep sticking to me like glue?" The dazzling lights wrapped Ryan's tall figure in a subtle golden aura. His face, already otherworldly, now seemed even cooler and more distant, like that of a celestial being. When his thin lips curled into a smile, his sculpted brows and eyes lit up with charm. "Miss Harrington, do you not like me?" Whitney was speechless. 'Isn't that obvious? Honestly, if he didn't have that face, this would totally count as harassment.' "What can I do?" Ryan's gaze lowered, a touch of quiet allure shimmering at the corners of his eyes. "I value my life, and it's rare to meet someone who might save it. To stay alive, I'll have to shamelessly stick to you." Whitney shot back, "Do your fans know you're this shameless?" 'Turns out, all that hype about being aloof and untouchable on camera is an act,' Whitney thought. "Whitney!" Suddenly, a soft and sweet voice rang out from not far away. The tone was laced with worry and urgency. But when Whitney looked up, she saw a girl in a white dress, gentle and graceful, nestled limply in Chase's arms. Chase was supporting her, helping her take tiny steps toward Whitney's booth. She was moving so slowly that even a snail would have left her in the dust. Her eyes would get teary after a few steps. Chase was so worried that he kept wanting to carry her, but she refused every time with surprising determination. Whitney's eyes suddenly narrowed. Her hands at her sides subconsciously tensed up a bit. Here came Emily, the girl who had took over her whole life, stole her family, and in the end, taken her life. Emily would never let slip any opportunity to make Whitney look bad in front of the Andersons. The stream had barely resumed, and she couldn't wait to show up and start her drama of "caring brother, devoted sister." She was deliberately making Chase look worried about her to get under Whitney's skin, so Whitney would lose it in front of the cameras. Emily was always pulling this trick in Whitney's previous life. Seeing this scene would have broken Whitney's heart. But now, she was totally over the Andersons. She didn't expect anything from them, didn't feel a thing, and kind of wanted to laugh. Watching Emily put on that pathetic act, she thought, 'Only the Andersons would buy this crap.' "Whitney, who are you hanging out with? You two look pretty cozy when you whispered in each other's ear. Careful, the livestream's about to start. You don't want to get caught on camera," Emily said. From afar, she caught sight of Whitney and a guy glued together by the booth. She snuggled into Chase's arms, trying to hide the excitement and the grin that she could barely hold back in her eyes. Even her usual slow, unsteady steps sped up. She purposely raised her voice, acting like she was being thoughtful and giving Whitney a friendly warning. But she had two camera crews following right behind her. One was her own, and the other was Chase's. In other words, both of their livestreams were up and running. With that shout, she was basically making a scene for everyone to see. The production team wasn't about to miss out on all that buzz. And just like that, the camera crew trailing behind Emily turned their cameras on Whitney. As Emily got closer and finally saw who Whitney was cozying up to, her sweet, innocent mask shattered in an instant. "M-Mr. Pierce..." Emily's eyes widened. She was so stunned that she could barely get a word out. 'Ryan? How could he be here? Why is he with Whitney? Of all people, it has to be him!' Emily thought. She thought about Ryan's top-tier status in the entertainment world and how his family was on a different level compared to the Andersons. It was enough to make Emily's delicate frame, still curled up in Chase's arms, tremble. Right then, the viewers in Emily's livestream completely lost their minds when Ryan's icy figure appeared on screen. Their shock was every bit as intense as Emily's. [Damn! It's Ryan. The Real Survival team is legendary. They actually managed to bring in Ryan.] [I knew there was going to be a surprise guest, but I never imagined it would be this epic.] [Help! I'm so hyped that I can barely breathe.] In just a few seconds, the news that Ryan showed up on Real Survival took over social media. And thanks to Ryan, Whitney, who was right there beside him, blew up online too. It was all because Emily yelled out like that. [Who's that woman next to Ryan? Are they getting all cozy? Are they whispering in each other's ear?] [Ryan's never had a woman by his side. This is literally the first time.] [@Jamie, I need all information you can find about her, ASAP.] The chat was buzzing with curiosity about Whitney's identity. No catfights or hate. Nobody was trashing Whitney. Emily finally snapped out of her shock. When she remembered what she'd just said, resentment burned in her chest, and her fists balled tightly. If Emily had known the man Whitney was getting close to was Ryan, she would've never let them share the same frame. 'The only woman who deserves to stand next to Ryan is me, and me alone!' she thought.

As a substitute, she wanted to leave but was rejected. She thought her husband might start to have feelings for her, but as it turned out, he simply wanted to wait for his first love to return before getting rid of her. Faced with their intimacy, she taught the sc**bag and his mistress a good lesson and left without hesitation, focusing on her career. However, her unfaithful ex-husband actually began to pester her... ===== "We'll divorce on Monday. Aside from the compensation in the agreement, you may request anything else you need." Kristian Shaw, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, exuded an air of cold detachment. His voice firm and emotionless. His piercing gaze settled on the silent woman opposite him, his eyes inscrutable. "Why so sudden?" Freya Briggs asked, her voice quieter than usual. Kristian's answer was blunt. "Ashley is back." Freya knew exactly who Ashley was. After a brief pause, she replied, "Okay." Kristian hesitated, caught off guard by her immediate acceptance. Freya opened the divorce papers, her thoughts drifting to the past. Two years ago, they had met at a n**htclub. She had been weighed down by worries; he had been nursing a broken heart. A few drinks later, they found solace in each other's company, talking late into the night. There had been no impulsive o*e-n**ht st*nd--just a quiet parting afterward. Three days later, he had returned with his assistant to propose marriage. And she had agreed. After getting married, he had treated her well--tending to her needs, drying her hair with gentle hands, and solving her problems before she even voiced them. Their relationship had been perfect--until six months ago, when a single phone call changed everything. Overnight, he grew distant, his warmth replaced by icy indifference. That was when she learned the truth: Kristian had married her because she bore a faint resemblance to his lost love, Ashley Bradley. The memory made Freya press her lips together before she asked lightly, "You said I could ask for compensation, right?" "Yes," Kristian replied flatly. "Anything I want?" She lifted her gaze to him, her delicate face devoid of its usual brightness. For a fleeting moment, guilt flickered in his ch*st. "Yes." He had already resolved to grant her reasonable demands. After all, she had been good to him all the time. Freya's voice was steady. "Then I want the most expensive car in your garage." "Fine," Kristian agreed. "A villa in the suburbs," she added. "Done," he said. Freya smiled. "And a share of the money you've earned in the last two years." For the first time, Kristian's composure cracked. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if questioning whether he'd heard correctly. "What did you say?" Freya, unfazed, repeated her demand. "Our earnings during the marriage count as marital property, don't they? Based on my calculations--excluding investments--your salary and dividends over the last two years amount to several billion. I don't want much--just 40%." A heavy silence settled between them. Then, she added, as if casually mentioning the weather, "Of course, you're welcome to take 40% of my income too." Kristian's patience finally snapped. "Freya!" His voice carried an edge of disbelief. Had he really felt guilty earlier? How had he never noticed her greed? Freya met his gaze evenly. "Is that not acceptable?" Absolutely not. Kristian dismissed the idea instantly. "Then forget it." Freya set down her pen. "Next time I see your family, I'll bring up your emotional infidelity. I'm sure they'll take my side." Kristian's expression darkened, his stare turning glacial. He hadn't anticipated this side of her--realizing now that her past docility had been an act. "Do you really want to negotiate with me like this?" he demanded. "Yes." Freya held his gaze without flinching. She knew he despised threats--but she despised infidelity more. "Fine." Kristian's eyes turned stormy, his voice glacial. "You'll get what you want. But if the divorce hits complications, you'll regret it." Freya leaned back in her chair, her tone razor-sharp. "Kristian Shaw, is that a threat?" This version of her was foreign to Kristian. For two years, she'd been the picture of compliance--gentle, accommodating, never defiant. Now, she met his anger with unshakable calm. "No." Already calculating countermeasures, he bit out, "You'll have the assets. We divorce on Monday." Freya's lashes lowered briefly before she added, "One more condition." "Speak." His patience frayed. "Take me shopping tomorrow." She ignored the frost radiating from him. "Afterward, we'll tell your family together that I ended things." "Deal," Kristian conceded. With that, he strode toward the door, unable to stomach another second in her presence. Earlier, he'd even considered granting her a grace period to process the divorce. How laughable. She couldn't wait to carve up his fortune and be rid of him. Had Freya been able to read his thoughts, she might have laughed and said, "That little money? Do you really think I care?" Kristian reached the door and halted. Without turning around, he said, "I won't be back tonight. I'll pick you up at nine tomorrow morning. Make a list of the stores you want to visit." Freya's voice followed him, calm but laced with something sharp. "Are you going to see Ashley Bradley?" Kristian's jaw tightened. "That's none of your business." Freya let out a quiet breath, as if she had already expected that answer. "I don't tolerate cheating," she said plainly. "So before the divorce is finalized, you'd better not end up in b*d with her." Kristian whirled back, looming over her. Freya didn't blink. "What? Can't endure two more days?" "I understand your bitterness," he said, eerily composed, "but lashing out won't help. This is a divorce, not war." Freya blinked at him. For a moment, she was at a loss for words. This man was truly shameless. Kristian didn't wait for a response. "Good night." And with that, he turned and left. The door clicked shut behind him. Freya's gaze drifted down to the divorce papers still lying on the table. She stood there for a long time, unmoving. To say she felt nothing would have been a lie. She wasn't made of stone. The moment she discovered she was nothing more than a stand-in, the hurt had settled deep in her bones. Kristian had been her first love. In twenty-four years, no one else had breached her defenses. Before the betrayal, he'd been perfection itself--attentive, steady, silencing every doubt with his quiet devotion. So when she learned of Ashley, she'd offered to leave. To free him. But he'd refused. Chapter 2 Kristian Was Pure S**mbag The reason behind Kristian's refusal was simple. Before Ashley returned, he needed someone to manage his elders at home--and Freya, adored by his parents and grandpa, was the obvious choice. But sometimes, Freya couldn't help but wonder--did he really think she was a f*ol? Otherwise, why would he assume she'd play along in hiding his a**air? Now, with his sudden demand for divorce, frustration simmered inside her. Even after six months of steeling herself, a stubborn flicker of emotion remained. She let out a slow breath, crossed to the sofa, and grabbed her phone. She tapped the contact labeled "Fred"--untouched for two years--and typed, "Check if Shaw Group's facing any issues. And find out if Kristian's terminally ill." Fred's replies exploded onto the screen instantly. "Holy--Freya?!" "Never thought I'd hear from you again!" "Two years, Freya. TWO." "Where've you been?!" She didn't bother explaining. Mood sour, she fired back a single word, "Check." Fred caved. "On it!" She tossed the phone aside and waited. If Kristian was divorcing her to spare her some tragedy, she'd forgive him--maybe even help. But if he was just an unfaithful j**k? She'd drop him without a second thought. Thirty minutes later, her phone buzzed with Fred's verdict. "Zero troubles. No illness, no crisis. Why the h*ll are you asking? Kristian's loaded, hot, and sharp--you two are a match. Don't you like pretty boys? Give it a shot!" She ignored the jab and shot back, "You are so blind." Then she silenced her phone. No external factors meant only one thing--Kristian was pure s*um. Fred stared at his screen, baffled. Did Freya wake up in a mood today? Freya's gaze landed on the divorce papers. After a pause, she snatched a pen, scrawled her name, and shoved them into a drawer. Then she headed for the shower. When she emerged, her phone was a disaster--dozens of unread messages and 32 missed calls. No guessing needed. Frederick Price--aka Fred--had clearly blabbed about her resurrection to the entire world. Towel draped over her damp hair, she reached for her phone--only for it to ring again. The caller ID flashed; it was her father. Her ch*st tightened. Two years of silence, and now he called? She'd left Alerith City due to a situation involving her mother, and neither had she reached out to her father nor had he contacted her--until now. After a pause, she answered coolly. "Hello." Silence. Freya, never one for patience, was about to hang up when Hugh Briggs' raspy voice cut through. "Mina." That name clawed at buried memories. "What do you want?" she asked flatly. Hugh hesitated, guilt threading his words. "Frederick told me you reached out. Said you were digging into Kristian. Need help?" "No." Freya had no interest in his involvement. A beat passed before Hugh ventured, "What's your relationship with him?" "A couple." She let the word hang. "About to divorce." Hugh's breath hitched. She was married? "You--" he started. "If that's all, I'm done." Freya didn't want to waste any more breath on him. "Wait!" he rushed. She held her tongue. The line crackled with tension. Finally, he muttered, "When are you coming back? That woman's gone." Then, hastily, he added, "Your mom's belongings are untouched." Her fingers tightened around the phone. For a flicker, emotion crossed her face--then vanished. "Noted." She hung up before he could protest. Hugh stared at the dead line, frustration curdling in his ch*st. He hadn't even asked about her marriage. Freya didn't spare him another thought. She flicked her phone to airplane mode, towel-dried her hair, and collapsed into b*d. The night passed without dreams. By eight the next morning, she was up--dressed and breakfasted. Today, she'd taken care with her makeup. Her skin glowed; her lips, naturally full, needed no enhancement. But her eyes--sharp, luminous--were the real weapon. Her smile was bright, bringing a warmth that could instantly lift anyone's spirits. When Kristian arrived, she was already waiting on the sofa. Her shoulder-length hair was pinned back, bangs swept up under a black beret. At the sight of him, she rose gracefully, reaching for a coat and draping it over her shoulder. "Let's go." She grabbed her purse, her tone composed and unbothered. Kristian didn't move. His tailored suit emphasized his height as he said, "Not today." Freya stilled. "I have other commitments." His voice was indifferent. His gaze lingered--too long--on her face. "Tomorrow." "Kristian Shaw." Her tone was a warning. He disliked it instantly. "I put on makeup today," she said, her voice deceptively calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. "If you want our divorce to go smoothly on Monday, push aside whatever plans you have. I don't deal with people who break their promises." Kristian's eyes narrowed. After a silent calculation, he stepped out to make a call. Fragments floated back--Ashley... hospital... follow-up. Freya's grip on her purse turned white-knuckled. Inside, she seethed. Even now, Ashley occupied his thoughts completely. Kristian missed Freya's fury. All he saw was how she shone today--vibrant, untamed. Nothing like the subdued woman he knew. After hanging up, he inquired where she wanted to shop. Freya mentioned the largest luxury mall in town. This wasn't shopping. This was a spree. By 10 AM, the four bodyguards trailed behind her like pack mules--arms stacked with watches, jewels, designer bags. Kristian's phone chimed nonstop with alerts. As Freya strode into yet another jewelry boutique, his jaw hardened. This wasn't retail therapy; she was intentionally trying to irritate him. Chapter 3 Why Hurt Ashley? Gerard Todd, Kristian's ever-dutiful assistant, hesitated for a moment before asking, "Sir, should I go ahead and book a restaurant?" Kristian massaged his temples, irritation flashing across his face. "No need." He knew Freya was venting her frustration. If splurging eased her temper, so be it--he'd let her spend freely. The moment the words left his mouth, his phone vibrated. Another alert flashed--over thirty million had just vanished from his account. Gerard averted his eyes, while the four bodyguards stood stiffly, arms laden with shopping bags like silent, overburdened mules. Freya strode out of the jewelry boutique and casually handed her latest purchase to Gerard, whose hands were conspicuously empty. Just as she turned to continue her spree, Kristian's phone rang. His posture shifted instantly. The tension in his shoulders eased, his frown softening as he glanced at the caller ID. Long fingers cradled the phone, his voice uncharacteristically tender as he answered. "Hello, Ashley." Gerard and the bodyguards exchanged startled glances. Had their boss forgotten Freya was standing right there? "Ashley was in a car accident on her way to a hospital follow-up. She's unconscious--still in surgery," the voice on the line blurted, frantic. "Please come. She kept calling your name before they took her in." "Send the address. I'm on my way." Kristian's ch*st constricted, the words sharp with urgency. He ended the call, his gaze flickering to Freya. An explanation hovered on his lips, but he swallowed it. Instead, he turned to Gerard and the bodyguards. "Stay with her. Buy whatever she wants. If it doesn't fit in the car, have it delivered by this afternoon." "Yes, sir," the five men chorused. Without another word, Kristian strode off, leaving Freya and the others in his wake. An uncomfortable silence settled over the group. Gerard adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, forcing a polished smile. "Mrs. Shaw, don't worry. Mr. Shaw will return once he handles matters." "What a loyal employee," Freya murmured, her tone laced with something unreadable. Gerard blinked, thrown by her response. Freya studied the mall's glittering chandeliers, her voice deliberate. "Being his assistant is one thing. But cleaning up his messes? Tell me, Gerard--have you ever seen a man ditch his wife mid-date to run to his mi**ress?" The bodyguards stiffened; Gerard's smile froze. For a heartbeat, all five men stared at her with something dangerously close to pity. This might be the price of marrying into wealth--knowing her husband had left her for another woman while she was expected to swallow the insult. "Save the sympathy." Freya scoffed, amused by their expressions. She gestured to the bags weighing them down. "A single one of those could cover your salary for a year. Maybe ten." The blow landed perfectly. She pressed, "Well, anything you'd like?" Five pairs of eyes widened in unison. Freya's mind worked in ways they couldn't follow. "Since he's off playing hero for his darling, let's put his money to better use." She twirled the black card between her fingers, her voice quieter now. The sting surprised her. She hadn't realized Kristian's departure would still claw at her. Right now, all she wanted was to drain his account dry. Gerard and the bodyguards gaped. Delighted by their shock, Freya resumed shopping, the card clutched like a weapon. She assumed Kristian would linger at the hospital all day. But as she sat down to eat, he appeared like a storm, his presence slicing through the restaurant's warmth. Before anyone could react, he seized Freya's wrist and hauled her toward the parking area, his grip ironclad. Her back slammed against the car door, pain radiating through her. She winced. What the hell was his problem? His accusation came like a whip crack, "Why hurt Ashley?" Kristian trembled with suppressed rage. "You hired that hit-and-run driver, didn't you? I gave you everything you wanted, the house, the car, the money. What more do you want? Why did you still hurt her?" He looked like vengeance personified, his eyes glacial. "When did I--" Freya's confusion was genuine. "Still lying?" His voice could've frosted glass. "You planned this. Picked today so I'd be distracted while your hired man ran her down. You know I'd die before letting her suffer." His voice was Arctic frost, the kind that seeped into bones and made spines stiffen. Freya's initial fury dissolved into something colder, sharper. His absurd accusation had an ironic effect--it drained her rage, leaving only icy clarity. She met his gaze, lips curling in derision. "How poetic. Turning betrayal into some grand romance." "Freya Briggs!" Kristian's control frayed, his shout raw with warning. "You're delusional." She didn't flinch, status be damned. "Think. Why would I trash my fresh start--my freedom--over someone like her?" "You know exactly why." His voice dropped lower, a bl**e pressed to her throat. A realization flickered. "Ah. You think I'm still obsessed with you?" Kristian said nothing, but his clenched jaw and the fire in his eyes were answer enough. "Why should I still want you?" Freya laughed, the sound brittle. "After being treated as a stand-in? After your infidelity? After watching you fawn over another woman?" The words landed like sl*ps. Kristian stiffened. "I didn't cheat," he ground out. "You handed her your heart while wearing my ring." Her smile was lethal. "That's cheating." "Enough deflection," he snapped. "You're the one hallucinating conspiracies!" Silence. Kristian studied her, as if peeling back layers for the first time. The weight of his scrutiny was suffocating. Freya refused to wilt. "So she claimed I hired a man to k*ll her, and you just... believed her?" "Yes." His anger faltered under her unwavering stare, but the frost remained. "Ashley didn't lie. And she has proof." Freya's brows arched. Her fingers dug into her bag strap, knuckles whitening. "Perfect. Let's go to the hospital. Right now." Kristian blinked. Her immediate agreement threw him. Guilty people didn't invite confrontation. Doubt slithered in. Was the evidence fabricated? "Move." Her command shattered his thoughts. He released her wrist, disconcerted by her detachment. Something ugly twisted in his ch*st--annoyance? Guilt? Before he could name it, he yanked out his keys and wrenched the car door open. Chapter 4 Are You Threatening Me? Gerard stepped forward swiftly to take the keys, assuming the role of driver without hesitation. Freya yanked the passenger door open and slid inside, her gaze fixed straight ahead--ignoring Kristian entirely. A knot of dread tightened in Gerard's ch*st. What if Freya said something outrageous? The thought made his fingers clench around the wheel. After a weighted pause, he ventured, "Mrs. Shaw, you--" "Drive." Her reply was a bl**e, sharp and final. Gerard flicked a glance at the rearview mirror. Kristian's expression gave nothing away. Swallowing hard, he pulled out of the parking area. Silence smothered the car like a thick fog. The tension was unbearable. Gerard's shoulders tensed, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white. Neither Kristian nor Freya spoke. Both radiated a frost so deep it could've cracked the windows. Gerard knew Kristian's moods well--but Freya? She'd been almost cheerful earlier. What the hell happened? He bit back a sigh. Questions wouldn't help now. In the back seat, Kristian's gaze drifted unbidden to Freya's profile. Something unfamiliar twisted in his ch*st--an emotion he refused to name. Thirty minutes later, the car halted at the hospital entrance. Kristian seized Freya's wrist, dragging her toward the VIP ward. His grip was iron, unyielding. She winced, her voice dripping with mockery. "At this rate, I won't be the one charged--you'll be arrested for assault first." He dropped her arm like it burned him. Angry red marks circled her skin. Freya shot him a look so scathing it could've melted steel. Guilt flickered in Kristian's ch*st--brief, unwelcome. It vanished the moment Ashley's bruised face flashed in his mind. "Follow me," he muttered, turning on his heel. He didn't wait to see if Freya obeyed. The door swung open. Ashley lay propped up in b*d, her face lighting up at the sight of Kristian. "Kristian," she breathed, voice sweet with devotion. He was at her side in an instant, fingers brushing hers in silent reassurance. Freya strode in, took one look at them, and smirked. "Should I leave? Give you two some privacy?" "Freya. Enough." Kristian's voice was winter itself. He didn't look at Freya, his hand still resting on Ashley's back. "You're here to apologize." Freya closed the distance to the b*d, studying Ashley properly for the first time--soft features, delicate frame, eyes wide with practiced innocence. Ah. Now she understood. This was the woman Kristian loved. "Miss Bradley." Freya laced her fingers together. "My darling tells me you've accused me of hiring your attacker--with evidence." She stressed the word, gaze locked on Kristian. "Care to share?" "Kristian..." Ashley's fingers tightened around his, her lower lip trembling... ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &5&

Pregnant with my husband's baby—flew to his city to surprise him for our anniversary. His call hits me at the door: "Babe! Happy five years! Got a surprise for you—arrives tomorrow." I cover the camera, grinning. "I've got a surprise for you too. Five minutes." Hang up. This blonde in the elevator smiles at me. "Wait—you're Nathan's wife? He talks about you constantly." My heart melts. Elevator opens. His office—right there. Hand on the door. She grabs me, smile like ice. "I'm Chloe. Nathan's girlfriend." "This is our time. Stay here. I'll get you when we're done." Oh. Guess this is my surprise. Door slams shut. I'm frozen. Brain screaming. Chairs scraping. Then—those sounds. "Babe, I'm still bruised from last time. Go easy on me?" No. I didn't hear that. His voice—unmistakable. "What's wrong? You're being so quiet. Come on, let me hear that pretty voice." Every nerve in my body dies. Nathan. My Nathan. The boy who begged me to marry him. My whole life. Screwing her. Right there. Last night we FaceTimed about baby names. I should burst in there. Rip his head off. My hand's on the handle. I bolt. Elevator. Two girls giggling. "Oh my god, did you see Nathan's girlfriend? She's stunning. Five years and they're still all over each other." "Right? He literally moved the company here so she could finish school. Goals." Can't breathe. Ribs cracking. Five years. Same as our marriage. His "expansion" wasn't for our future. It was for her. Voice shaking. "Wait—isn't Nathan married though?" They look at me like I'm insane. "Married? Nathan? Girl, if that man had a wife, he'd tattoo her name on his forehead." "He parades that girlfriend around like a trophy. Wedding's in a week. Whole office is invited." Something inside me shatters. No one knows I exist. Our marriage—erased. Except her. She knows. Did he tell her while they were in bed? Over coffee? Doesn't matter. I'm the joke either way. Stomach flips. I crash outside, puking into the bushes. Tears choking me. Won't stop heaving. I look up. His office window. Two shadows pressed together. Don't know how long I stand there. Sun beating down. Sweat everywhere. His call lights up my phone. New shirt. Buttoned tight. Hair perfect. Face—nothing. Like he wasn't just inside her ten minutes ago. He squints. "Babe, is that... wait, are you outside my building?" I smile so wide my face hurts. "Yeah. Surprise." Nathan's sprinting toward me. His face lights up. "Babe! Oh my god—you're here? This is the surprise?" He's ten feet away and I can already smell her perfume on him. My stomach flips. I clutch the pregnancy test in my bag. "Yeah. Surprise." He grabs my hand, practically dragging me through the lobby. Reception's gawking. Including those two elevator girls. Nathan stops, shooting them a look. "This is my wife. Next time she shows up, walk her straight to me." Right. He thinks they made me wait. He leads me to his office. The place is pristine. Every surface wiped down. But that smell. God, that smell. He's rubbing my shoulders now like I'm made of glass. "Baby, don't pull stunts like this again, okay? That flight's brutal on you." Brutal. Right. The door flies open. Chloe breezes back in like I'm invisible. "Hey babe, left something in here. Just grabbing it real quick—" Nathan's whole body goes rigid. He yanks her forward. "Whoa—this is my wife, Emma. Show some respect." Then to me, voice smooth: "This is Chloe. My buddy Jake's little sister. He's traveling, asked me to keep an eye on her." Chloe's eyes lock on mine. That smirk could cut glass. "Oh, Emma. Right. Yeah, we already met. Remember?" Nathan blinks. "Wait, when?" I open my mouth— Chloe reaches under the couch cushion. Pulls out leopard-print panties. Holds them up like buried treasure. "Found them! Must've dropped these when I was changing this morning." Nathan goes white. "Babe—no, listen—she borrowed my office before my meeting—that's all—" Chloe's already twirling the lace, grinning at me. "Exactly. Nathan's devoted to you, Emma. And me? I've got my own boyfriend. We're so in love." She tugs her collar down. Hickeys everywhere. My nails dig into my palms so hard I feel skin break. Nathan's face cycles through panic, rage, guilt. He grabs Chloe's collar, yanking it back up. His voice goes hard. "Get. Out." She flinches. Eyes go glassy. He shoves her through the door. Slams it. Locks it. Then spins around, hands up like he's approaching a spooked horse. "Babe. She's just—she's immature. Don't listen to her. I'll make sure Jake deals with her." He's so good at this. Academy Award–level. I almost want to applaud. "Does lying get you off, Nathan? Like, is this fun for you?" He freezes. "What? Babe, no—what are you even—" Still playing dumb. Something inside me shatters. "She's not Jake's sister. She's not anyone's sister. She's your girlfriend, Nathan. You're marrying her in seven days." My voice cracks. "So what am I? Your side piece? Your backup plan?" I'm standing right in front of him—and Nathan's eyes are locked on his phone. His face goes white. "Babe, I've got an emergency. Just wait here, okay? I'll be right back." He's out the door. I stare at where he just was. Everything I've been holding in doesn't explode—it just caves in. Like someone punched a hole through my ch//est. He's done with me. This marriage is done. I sit there until I go completely numb. Finally I grab my phone. "Marcus. I need divorce papers. Adultery. He gets nothing." I hang up and walk outside. The city's massive and loud and I realize I have nowhere to go. My vision starts blurring. My knees buckle. A car slams into me. I'm on the pavement. Fire tears through my stomach. Something warm is spreading down my legs. Blood. My dress is soaked with it. I grab my phone with shaking hands. Hit his name. It rings. He doesn't pick up. The car door opens. Chloe steps out with her phone pressed to her ear. "Babe? Oh god, I just hit someone with my car. She's pregnant." Pause. "I won't get arrested for this, right? I'm really scared." Nathan's voice comes through her speaker—totally calm. "You're fine. Call an ambulance for her. I'll take care of everything." My heart just stops beating. He always said he'd answer my calls first. Always. Chloe squats down next to me. That smirk's back on her face. "Wonder what he'll do now. Think he'll actually come after me for hurting your little accident? Or make this whole thing disappear?" She grins. "God, I can't wait to see." I'm clutching my stomach, gasping. Can't get words out. My phone lights up. Nathan calling back. I can't lift my arm anymore. Everything goes black. I wake up in a hospital bed. The doctor's standing there looking uncomfortable. "I'm so sorry. We did everything we could, but we couldn't save the pregnancy." My hand slides to my stomach. It's flat now. Empty. The baby's gone. Chloe's smug face flashes through my mind and rage floods my entire body. I grab my phone and call Marcus. "I want her charged. Hit and run. Everything." But I don't get a court summons. I get cops showing up at my hospital room. "Ma'am, you're being charged with insurance fraud. Faking a pregnancy to extort money, causing severe emotional distress to the victim. Six days detention, ten thousand dollar fine." I'm in shock. "What? That's insane—I didn't fake anything—" They hand me a stack of documents. Medical records stating I was never pregnant. Witness statements claiming I'm a scam artist. All of it "proving" I made the whole thing up. And every single page? Signed by Nathan. Six days in jail. Darkest days of my life. Not just the mental t0rture—there's this crew inside that decides I'm their target. Beat me until I'm bleeding everywhere. Fresh miscarriage and they're making me hemorrhage on concrete. Walk out barely functioning. Sunlight bu//rns. Every sound's too loud. Get my phone back. Nathan's spam-called me. "Babe, where are you? Flew home? Could've told me. Been worried." "Why won't you answer? Still mad about Chloe?" "She's a kid. You're almost thirty—be the bigger person. This petty cr@p is exhausting." Started worried. Ended blaming me. All because I'm supposedly "holding grudges." Zero clue everything I just survived is his doing. Phone buzzes. Friend request. Chloe's selfie grinning at me. "Heard you got out. Add me. You'll wanna see this." Accept. Photo dump hits. Wedding shots—her in white, him in a tux. Kissing. Laughing. Picture-perfect couple. Like they're the ones who took vows. "While you were locked up? Nathan and I did our engagement shoot every day. Didn't think about you once." "Wedding's tomorrow! Come if you want. Unless you're gonna be weird about it." Sends venue address. I stare at the screen. Memories flood back. Grew up watching affairs wreck my family. Made me terrified of marriage. Nathan knew—so he rewrote his family's ancestral code just for me. Any Cross man caught cheating gets buried alive. That code's sacred to them. Only reason I said yes. Was gonna let him walk. Sign papers. Move on. But they killed my baby. They want me at their wedding? I'll be there. THE WEDDING Next day. Biggest venue in the city. Chloe and Nathan at the altar looking magazine-perfect. All smiles and sweet talk. I'm in the back corner. Watching. Phone buzzes. Nathan again. "Babe, talk to me. It's cool—soon as this wraps, I'm coming to find you. We'll fix this face to face." I almost laugh. Right as they're exchanging rings— Horn blares. Loud as he11. Everyone spins around. Funeral procession rolls onto the lawn. Six guys carrying a coffin. Guy up front's got a bullhorn: "Cross family law—cheaters get buried alive. Nathan Cross, you left your wife for your mistress. We're here for you."

Letting my sister’s 18-year-old best friend live in my house was the biggest mistake of my life. I promised to protect her. But this morning, she stood in my kitchen wearing nothing but my oversized shirt. The collar slipped, exposing her bare shoulder and long legs. My body reacted instantly. She’s too young and completely off-limits. But watching her walk away, I threw my promise in the trash, grabbed her waist, and... ---------- Chapter 1: Rock Bottom The email came at 9:47 AM. *Subject: Termination of Employment - Effective Immediately* Leighton Hayes stared at her phone screen, reading the words three times before they actually sank in. Fired. They were letting her go. Budget cuts, the email said. Last hired, first fired. She'd only been at the startup for eight months. Her hands shook as she shoved her few personal items into her bag. A coffee mug Chloe had given her. The succulent plant was already half dead. Her backup phone charger. The other designers wouldn't even look at her as security walked her out. Twenty-three years old and unemployed. Great. She sat in her car in the parking lot for ten minutes, just breathing. Trying not to cry. Failing. Her phone buzzed. A text from her landlord. *The rent is 5 days late. Please make the payment by 5 PM today, or I will have to start the eviction process.* Leighton let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob. Of course. Of course, this was happening on the same day. She checked her bank account. $847.32. Rent was $1,200. Even if she paid everything she had, she'd still be short. And she'd just lost her income. Her finger hovered over Chloe's contact for a full minute before she finally pressed call. "Leigh! I was just thinking about you. Want to grab lunch?" The sound of her best friend's cheerful voice made something crack open in Leighton's chest. "I got fired," she said, and then the tears came for real. "What? Those assholes! Leigh, oh my god. Where are you?" "In the parking lot. And my landlord just texted. I'm being evicted." "Today? Everything's happening today?" "Apparently the universe thinks I can handle it." Leighton wiped her face with the back of her hand. Her mascara was definitely everywhere. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called and dumped this on you." "Don't be stupid. I'm coming to get you. Where are you?" "Chloe, you're at work." "And? This is an emergency. Send me your location." Forty minutes later, Leighton was sitting in Chloe's car, clutching a coffee she couldn't afford but Chloe had insisted on buying anyway. "You're moving in with me," Chloe announced. "I can't ask you to do that." "You're not asking. I'm telling you." Chloe turned to face her, dark eyes serious. "You're my best friend. You've been my best friend since we were eight years old. You really think I'm going to let you be homeless?" "I'll figure something out. I just need a few days to..." "To what? Sleep in your car? Leigh, be real." Chloe grabbed her hand. "You're coming home with me. End of discussion." "But your place is tiny. Where would I even sleep?" Chloe bit her lip, a tell-tale sign she was about to say something Leighton wouldn't like. "Okay, so technically, I don't live in my apartment anymore." "What?" "I moved in with Noah two months ago." Leighton's stomach dropped. "Noah. Your brother Noah." "Do I have another brother I don't know about?" Noah Knight. Even thinking his name made her feel like she was sixteen again, watching him from across the room at Chloe's birthday party, too nervous to say more than two words to him. She'd had a crush on him since she was eight years old. The first time Chloe brought her home for a playdate, eleven-year-old Noah had helped her reach a glass from the top shelf. He'd smiled at her, and she'd been done for. Fifteen years later, and she still got butterflies thinking about him. Which was pathetic. He probably didn't even remember her. "I can't live with your brother." "Why not? The place is huge. Like, stupid huge. He won't even notice you're there." Chloe started the car. "He's barely home anyway. Always working or traveling or whatever billionaires do." "Chloe..." "Two weeks. Just give me two weeks to help you find a job and get back on your feet. Please?" Leighton closed her eyes. She had $847 to her name. No job. No apartment. Pride was a luxury she couldn't afford right now. "Two weeks," she agreed quietly. "Yes! Okay, we need to get your stuff from your apartment before your psycho landlord throws it all out." It took less than an hour to pack up Leighton's entire life. One suitcase of clothes. A box of art supplies. Her laptop. That was it. Everything she owned fit in Chloe's trunk with room to spare. "Travel light, live free," Chloe said cheerfully, but Leighton could see the pity in her eyes. The drive to Noah's house took thirty minutes, moving from the city into an area where the houses got bigger and farther apart. When Chloe finally turned through an iron gate, Leighton's mouth fell open. "This isn't a house. This is a compound." "I told you it was big." Big didn't cover it. The mansion was all modern lines and huge windows, surrounded by perfectly landscaped gardens. There was a fountain. An actual fountain in the driveway. "Chloe, I can't stay here." "Too late. We're already here." Chloe parked and popped the trunk. "Come on. I'll give you the tour." Leighton grabbed her suitcase with shaking hands. This was a mistake. A huge mistake. But what choice did she have? The inside was even more intimidating than the outside. Everything was white, chrome, and appeared very expensive. The kind of place where you were afraid to touch anything in case you broke it. "Noah?" Chloe called out. "You home?" Please say no, Leighton thought. Please don't be home. Footsteps on the stairs. And then there he was. Noah Knight looked exactly like she remembered, except somehow more. Taller. Broader. Those same dark eyes, sharp jawline, the kind of face that made you forget how to form sentences. He wore a black t-shirt and jeans, barefoot, his dark hair tousled as if he had been running his hands through it. He looked at Chloe first, then his gaze moved to Leighton. She waited for recognition. A smile. Something. His eyes passed over her like she was part of the furniture. "Who's this?" he asked Chloe. Something twisted in Leighton's chest. She'd known he probably wouldn't remember her. She'd been nobody. Just his little sister's friend. But it still hurt. "This is Leighton. My best friend? She's been over like a thousand times growing up?" "Right." Noah's expression didn't change. Still blank. Still uninterested. "And she's here because...?" "She's moving in for a bit. Just temporarily." "Excuse me?" The temperature in the room dropped about twenty degrees. "You're doing what?" "She lost her job and her apartment today. She needs a place to crash." Chloe's voice had that stubborn edge that Leighton knew well. "We have like fifteen guest rooms. She can take one." "Did it occur to you to ask me first?" "It's my house too." "That you live rent-free." Noah crossed his arms. "You can't just move people in without discussing it with me." Leighton wanted to disappear. To melt into the expensive floor and never exist again. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. Both of them looked at her like they'd forgotten she could speak. "Chloe, this was a bad idea. Can you just take me to a motel or something?" "No," Chloe said firmly. "Yes," Noah said at the same time. They glared at each other. Leighton had seen them do this a hundred times growing up. Knight sibling standoffs that could last for hours. "Two weeks," Chloe said. "That's all I'm asking. Two weeks for her to get back on her feet. Then she'll be gone." Noah's jaw clenched. He looked at Leighton again, really looked at her this time. She probably looked like a mess. Mascara-stained face. Wrinkled clothes. Holding a suitcase like a shield. "Two weeks," he said finally. "Maximum. And she stays out of my way." "Thank you," Leighton said, even though everything in her screamed to run. He didn't respond. Just turned and walked back up the stairs without another word. "Well," Chloe said brightly. "That went better than expected." "He hates me." "He doesn't hate you. He's just... Noah. He'll warm up." Chloe grabbed her suitcase. "Come on. Let me show you to your room." The guest room was bigger than Leighton's entire apartment had been. King-size bed. Private bathroom. A view of the gardens. It was beautiful. And it made her want to cry all over again. "I'm going to fix this," Chloe promised. "Two weeks from now, you'll have a new job and a new place, and this will all just be a bad memory." After Chloe left, Leighton sat on the edge of the bed and looked around the room. This morning she'd woken up with a job and an apartment. Now she had neither. Now she was living in Noah Knight's house. The boy she'd loved from a distance for fifteen years. The man who didn't even remember her name. Her phone buzzed. A notification from LinkedIn. Someone had viewed her profile. She opened it and started updating her resume. Two weeks. She could do this. She'd stay invisible. Stay out of Noah's way. Find a new job. Get out. She could definitely do this. Probably. Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn't eaten since breakfast. She should probably find the kitchen. But that meant risking running into Noah again. Seeing that cold, blank expression when he looked at her. Later, she decided. She'd explore later. When she was sure he wasn't around. Leighton lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Day one in Noah Knight's house. This was going to be the longest two weeks of her life. Chapter 2: The Ice King Leighton spent the next morning hiding in her room like a coward. She updated her resume. Applied to twelve jobs. Scrolled through apartment listings she couldn't afford. Anything to avoid going downstairs and risking another encounter with Noah. Her phone rang just after noon. Chloe. "Hey, want to grab lunch? I'm off early today." "Sure. Where should I meet you?" "I'm literally downstairs. Come down." Right. Because Chloe lived here too. Leighton had almost forgotten in her panic to avoid Noah. She changed out of her pajamas into jeans and a sweater, then made her way downstairs. This time in daylight, the house was even more impressive. And intimidating. Huge windows let in natural light that made everything gleam. The art on the walls probably cost more than she'd make in a year. She found Chloe in the kitchen, rifling through the fridge. "Finally! I'm starving. Want to go to that Thai place you love?" "I can't really afford to eat out right now." "My treat. Don't argue." Chloe grabbed her purse. "Come on." They were halfway to the door when Noah appeared at the top of the stairs. He was on his phone, talking in a clipped tone about quarterly reports and market projections. He wore a suit today, all sharp lines and expensive fabric. He glanced down at them. His eyes passed over Leighton without a flicker of recognition. Again. "We're going out," Chloe called up. "Want anything?" He shook his head, already walking away, still talking into his phone. "See?" Chloe said once they were in her car. "He's barely aware you exist. This is going to be fine." Leighton forced a smile. "Yeah. Fine." Lunch helped. Chloe always knew how to make her laugh, and for an hour, she almost forgot about the disaster her life had become. Almost forgot about living in a mansion with a man who looked at her like she was invisible. When they got back, Chloe had to run to a meeting. "I'll be back around seven. We can watch a movie or something." She squeezed Leighton's hand. "It's going to work out. I promise." Leighton nodded and headed back to her room. But somewhere on the second floor, she took a wrong turn. The hallway looked the same as the one her room was in. Same carpet, same lights, same closed doors. But when she tried the door she thought was hers, it didn't open. She tried the handle again. Locked. Wait. Her door didn't lock from the outside. Did it? She stepped back and looked around. This wasn't the right hallway at all. Nothing looked familiar. "Great," she muttered. "Lost in a house. That's a new low." She backtracked, trying to retrace her steps. Took another turn. This hallway had different art on the walls. Still wrong. How did anyone navigate this place? She tried another direction. The hallway opened into a sitting area she didn't recognize. More wrong turns. A bathroom. A linen closet. Another locked door. Twenty minutes later, she was completely turned around. Nothing looked familiar. Every hallway seemed identical. She pulled out her phone to text Chloe, then remembered she was in her meeting. Leighton stared at her contacts. She could call someone. Except she didn't know anyone else here. Her only other option was... No. Absolutely not. She was not texting Noah Knight to ask for directions in his own house. She'd figure it out herself. Another wrong turn led her to a set of double doors. Maybe they led to a wing she recognized? She pushed one open carefully. It was an office. A massive office with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the gardens, a huge desk covered in monitors, and bookshelves lining the walls. And Noah, sitting at the desk, watching her. "I'm sorry," she said immediately. "I didn't mean to... I got lost." He leaned back in his chair. "Lost." "Your house is really big." "You've been here for less than twenty-four hours and you're already wandering into rooms you shouldn't be in." Her face burned. "I wasn't wandering. I was trying to find my room. All the hallways look the same." He stood up, and even from across the room, she could feel the weight of his irritation. He walked around the desk toward her, and she had to resist the urge to step back. Up close, he was even more overwhelming. Tall enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. Those dark eyes that were currently looking at her like she was the world's biggest inconvenience. "Which room did Chloe put you in?" "The one with the blue bedding? And the view of the gardens?" "East wing, third door on the right." "Okay. Thanks. I'll just..." She gestured vaguely behind her. "You're going the wrong way." Of course, she was. He moved past her into the hallway, and she had no choice but to follow. He walked quickly, taking turns without hesitation. She tried to memorize the route, but it was hopeless. Everything still looked identical to her. They passed a slightly open door. Through it, she glimpsed a huge bedroom. King-size bed, dark furniture, everything perfectly neat. His room, probably. "That's my room," he said without looking back, like he knew where her eyes had gone. "Don't go in there." "I wouldn't." "You got lost trying to find your own room. I'm not confident in your sense of direction." Was he making fun of her? She couldn't tell. His voice was flat, emotionless. He stopped at a door. "This one." It was her room. She recognized the blue bedding through the open door. "Thank you." He nodded once, already turning away. "Noah?" He stopped but didn't turn around. It was becoming a pattern with him. Never fully facing her. Always ready to leave. "I really am sorry. For being here. For being in the way. I know you didn't want me here." Now he did turn, his dark eyes meeting hers. "It's not personal." "It feels pretty personal." "I don't know you. You're Chloe's friend. That's all." The words shouldn't have stung. She barely knew him either. But they did. Because she'd spent fifteen years knowing exactly who he was. Watching him. Wanting him to look at her the way he was looking at her now. Except now that he was looking, there was nothing in his eyes but cold disinterest. "Two weeks," she said quietly. "Then I'll be gone and you can have your house back." Something flickered across his face. She couldn't read it. Then it was gone, and his expression was smooth again. "See that you do." He walked away, and this time she didn't call after him. She went into her room and closed the door, leaning against it. Her hands were shaking. From embarrassment, from anger, from something else she didn't want to name. This version of Noah was nothing like the one she'd built up in her head. That Noah had been kind. Warm. Someone who would smile at her and make her feel like she mattered. Real Noah was ice. Sharp edges and closed doors and eyes that looked through her instead of at her. She needed to let go of the fantasy. The childhood crush. All of it. He didn't want her here. He'd made that perfectly clear. Her phone buzzed. A text from Chloe. *Meeting ran late. Won't be back until 9. You okay?* *I'm fine. Got lost trying to find my room but I figured it out* *LOL this house is ridiculous. Noah gave me a map when I first moved in* *There's a MAP?* *I'll find it for you tomorrow. Hang in there* Leighton set her phone down and looked around the room. Beautiful. Perfect. Everything she'd never have on her own. And she'd never felt more out of place in her life. She pulled up her laptop and applied to more jobs. Anything to speed up her exit. Graphic designer positions. Junior art director roles. Even a few administrative jobs that had nothing to do with her degree. She didn't care. She just needed out. Two weeks felt like a lifetime. Later that night, her stomach growled. She'd skipped dinner, too anxious about navigating the house to risk going downstairs. But she couldn't hide in her room forever. It was past ten. Maybe Noah would be asleep. Or working in his office with the door closed. She crept downstairs, following the route he'd shown her earlier. Or what she thought was the route. Everything looked different in the dark. But she found the kitchen. Small victory. The fridge was still packed with food. She grabbed some leftover pasta from one of the containers and heated it up, eating quickly while standing at the counter. "You really like sneaking around at night." She jumped, nearly dropping her fork. Noah stood in the doorway. No shirt again. Just pajama pants riding low on his hips. Why did he keep doing this to her? "I'm not sneaking. I'm eating." "In the dark. In my kitchen." "I turned the light on." He moved into the room, and she tried very hard not to stare at his chest. In the muscles in his arms. At the tattoo she hadn't noticed before, black ink winding around his ribcage. "You should eat actual meals," he said. "Not just bread and leftovers." "I'm fine." "You're avoiding me." She set her fork down. "You told me to stay out of your way. That's what I'm doing." "By getting lost in my house and breaking into my office?" "I didn't break in. The door was open." "It was closed." "It was open a crack!" The corner of his mouth twitched. For a second, she thought he might smile. But then his expression went flat again. "Two weeks," he said. "Try to stay found until then." He left, taking all the oxygen in the room with him. Leighton dumped the rest of her pasta in the trash, her appetite gone. She trudged back upstairs, somehow finding her room on the first try. She climbed into bed and pulled the covers over her head. Thirteen more days. She could do this. Probably. Chapter 3: Midnight Collision Day three, and Leighton still couldn't sleep. She'd applied to twenty-seven jobs. Had one phone screen scheduled for tomorrow. Spent most of her time in her room, venturing out only when she was certain Noah was locked in his office or gone entirely. The avoidance strategy was working. She'd barely seen him since the kitchen incident last night. But now it was 1 AM, and her stomach was staging a revolt. The protein bar she'd eaten for dinner wasn't cutting it. She pulled on her sleep shorts and a thin camisole, too tired to bother with the hoodie. The house was always warm anyway. Noah probably had some fancy heating system that cost more per month than her old rent. This time, she knew the way to the kitchen. Small victories. The house was dark and quiet. She padded down the stairs, her bare feet silent on the cool marble. She was getting used to the space now. Starting to memorize which hallways led where, which doors opened to what rooms. The kitchen light was on. She froze at the entrance. Noah sat at the kitchen island, laptop open in front of him, a glass of amber liquid next to his hand. He'd changed since earlier. No shirt, just gray sweatpants. His hair was messy, like he'd been running his hands through it. He looked up when she appeared. For a second, neither of them moved. His eyes traveled down from her face, taking in her pajamas. The thin straps of her camisole. Her bare legs. Then his jaw tightened, and his gaze snapped back to his laptop. "Sorry," she said. "I didn't know you were down here." "It's fine." She should leave. Go back upstairs. Eat the stale granola bar she'd stashed in her room. But she was so tired of hiding. And she was hungry. Really hungry. She moved into the kitchen, giving him a wide berth. She opened the fridge and studied its contents as if she were taking a test. "There's leftover lasagna," Noah said without looking up. "Second shelf." "Thanks." She found it and put some on a plate, then stuck it in the microwave. The hum of it filled the silence. She kept her back to him, hyperaware of how little she was wearing. The camisole had seemed fine in her room. Now she felt practically naked. The microwave beeped. She pulled out her plate, the smell making her mouth water. She grabbed a fork and turned to leave. "You can eat here." She looked at him. He was still focused on his laptop, his face lit by the blue glow of the screen. "I don't want to bother you." "You're already bothering me. Might as well commit." She couldn't tell if he was joking. His voice gave nothing away. Slowly, she walked to the island and sat on the stool across from him. Far enough that there was no chance of accidentally touching. Close enough that she could see what he was drinking. "Is that whiskey?" "Scotch. Macallan 25." She had no idea what that meant, but it sounded expensive. Everything in this house was expensive. She took a bite of lasagna. It was incredible. Homemade, with real mozzarella and herbs she couldn't name. Nothing like the frozen stuff she used to buy. "Did you make this?" "I have a chef who comes three times a week." Of course he did. "Must be nice." He glanced up at her, one eyebrow raised. "Must be nice to have food?" "To have someone cook it for you. To live in a house with fifteen bedrooms. To not worry about rent or bills or getting evicted." His expression darkened. "You think I didn't work for this?" "I didn't mean..." "I started my company when I was twenty-four. Worked eighty-hour weeks for three years straight. Nearly went bankrupt twice. So yeah, now I have a chef. I earned it." "I wasn't attacking you." "Sounded like it." She set down her fork. "I'm sorry. You're right. That was rude." He studied her for a long moment, and she fought the urge to squirm under his gaze. Then he picked up his glass and took a drink. "Why graphic design?" he asked. The question surprised her. "What?" "Your degree. Chloe mentioned it. Why that?" "I like making things. Creating things that didn't exist before." She shrugged. "It's the only thing I've ever been good at." "You must be decent if you got hired out of college." "I was. Until they decided decent wasn't worth the salary." "Their loss." The words were casual, throwaway. But something in her chest warmed at them anyway. She took another bite of lasagna. He went back to his laptop, typing something, then frowning at the screen. "What are you working on?" she asked. "Contract negotiation. A company in Tokyo wants to license our software. They're being difficult about the terms." "At one in the morning?" "Tokyo is fourteen hours ahead. It's business hours there." She watched him work, fascinated despite herself. His fingers moved quickly over the keyboard. Every so often, he'd take a drink, his eyes never leaving the screen. This was Noah in his element. Focused. In control. Different from the cold, irritated version he'd been with her. "Can I ask you something?" she said. "You just did." "Can I ask you another something?" The corner of his mouth twitched. Almost a smile. "Go ahead." "Do you remember me? From before. When I used to come over with Chloe." His hands stilled on the keyboard. He looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time since she'd walked in. "Yes." "You acted like you didn't." "I know." "Why?" He was quiet for a moment. Then he closed his laptop and picked up his glass, swirling the scotch. "Because it was easier than acknowledging that Chloe's little friend grew up." Heat flooded her face. She didn't know what to say to that. Didn't know what it meant. He stood up, draining the rest of his scotch. "You should finish eating and get some sleep." "Okay," she said quietly. He moved to the sink with his glass. Leighton stood too, grabbing her plate. She turned toward the sink at the same time he turned back, and they collided. The plate slipped from her hands. She grabbed for it, overcorrected, and her elbow hit his glass instead. It shattered on the marble floor in an explosion of crystal and scotch. "Oh my god." She dropped to her knees immediately, reaching for the pieces. "I'm so sorry. I'm such a disaster. I'll pay for it. I'll..." "Don't touch it." She looked up at him. He was standing over her, his expression unreadable. "You'll cut yourself." He moved to the pantry and came back with a broom and dustpan. "Move back." "I can clean it. It's my fault." "Leighton. Move." She scrambled backward, pressing against the island. He swept up the glass efficiently, his movements quick and sure. When he was done, he dumped it in the trash, then grabbed paper towels and cleaned up the liquid. She stood there uselessly, her heart pounding. "I'm really sorry. That glass looked expensive." "It was." "How expensive?" "You don't want to know." She closed her eyes. Perfect. She'd destroyed something that probably cost more than her entire wardrobe. "Send me the bill. I'll find a way to pay you back." "Forget it." "Noah..." "I said forget it." He threw away the paper towels and turned to face her. "It's just a glass." "A really expensive glass that I broke because I'm clumsy and stupid and..." "You're not stupid." "I can't even hold onto a plate without causing property damage." "It was an accident." "I keep saying that about a lot of things lately." She pressed her hands to her face. "I'm sorry. I should just go back to my room and stop breaking your stuff." She moved toward the door, but his voice stopped her. "Leighton." She turned. He was standing by the island, his hands braced on the counter, his dark eyes intense. "Stop apologizing for existing." "I'm not..." "You are. You've apologized about fifty times since you got here. For eating. For getting lost. For breathing. It's exhausting." Her throat tightened. "I'm taking up space in your house. The least I can do is..." "The least you can do is stop acting like you're not allowed to be human." He pushed off the counter. "You're Chloe's best friend. That means something to her. Which means you're not going anywhere for two weeks, whether I like it or not. So stop walking on eggshells." "Do you? Like it?" She blurted out, shocking herself. The question hung between them. She shouldn't have asked. It was too direct. Too honest. But she was tired of pretending. He moved closer, and her breath caught. He stopped a foot away, near enough that she could smell the scotch on his breath, see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes. "I don't know yet," he said quietly. Then he walked past her out of the kitchen, leaving her standing there alone, her heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with breaking his glass. She touched her fingers to her lips. They were trembling. This was dangerous. The way he'd looked at her. The way her body had responded when he got close. The way she wanted him to come back. She was so screwed. She left her plate in the sink and went back to her room, but sleep was impossible. All she could see was the way his eyes had traced down her body. The almost-smile when she'd asked her question. The intensity in his voice when he'd told her to stop apologizing. *Chloe's little friend grew up.* What did that mean? Was he attracted to her? Annoyed by her? Both? She rolled over and grabbed her phone, scrolling mindlessly through social media. Anything to stop thinking about Noah Knight standing shirtless in his kitchen, looking at her like maybe she wasn't invisible after all. Her alarm would go off in five hours. She needed sleep. But every time she closed her eyes, she saw him. And she wondered what would have happened if she hadn't dropped that glass. If they'd stood there, inches apart, for just a few seconds longer. Nothing good, probably. Noah Knight was off-limits for about a thousand reasons. She just needed to remember that. Chapter 4: Morning After Leighton's alarm went off at seven. She'd slept maybe three hours, total. Her phone interview was at nine. She needed coffee. Needed to pull herself together and sound competent and employable instead of like someone who'd spent half the night obsessing over her best friend's brother. She showered and changed into actual clothes. A blouse and jeans, since they couldn't see her bottom half on the video call anyway. Light makeup to hide the dark circles under her eyes. Her hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail. Professional. Put together. Definitely not thinking about Noah's eyes or his voice or the way he'd said *grew up*. She grabbed her laptop and crept downstairs. According to Chloe, Noah worked out every morning at six, then locked himself in his office until noon. Which meant the coast should be clear. The kitchen was empty. She made coffee, her hands still shaky from lack of sleep. The spot where the glass had shattered was spotless. Like it had never happened. She took her coffee and laptop to what Chloe had called the "morning room." Big windows, comfortable chairs, good lighting. Perfect for a video interview. She had an hour to prep. Review the company website, practice her answers, pretend her life wasn't a complete mess. At 8:45, her laptop pinged. The interview link was active. She took a deep breath and clicked join. The interview lasted thirty minutes. Standard questions about her experience, her design process, and why she wanted the job. She gave good answers. Smiled at the right times. Pretended she wasn't desperate. "We'll be in touch," the hiring manager said at the end. "Probably early next week." Translation: don't call us, we'll call you. Leighton closed her laptop and slumped in the chair. That had gone fine. Not great, not terrible. Fine. She needed more coffee. On her way back to the kitchen, she heard music. Something with a heavy beat coming from down the hall. She followed the sound to a door she hadn't noticed before, slightly open. Through the gap, she could see equipment. A treadmill. Weight racks. Punching bag. The gym. She should keep walking. Mind her own business. Get her coffee and go back to her room. Instead, she moved closer to the door. Noah was inside. She could see him through the opening, his back to her. He was on the weight bench, doing chest presses. No shirt, just shorts and sneakers. Sweat gleamed on his skin. His muscles flexed with each rep, controlled and precise. She knew she should look away. Knew she was being creepy, standing here watching him. But she couldn't move. He finished his set and sat up, reaching for a water bottle. His chest rose and fell with his breathing. There was a scar on his left shoulder, about three inches long. She wondered how he'd gotten it. Then he turned his head and looked directly at her. Their eyes locked. Leighton froze. Caught. Like a kid with her hand in the cookie jar. For a long moment, neither of them moved. The music pounded between them. She couldn't read his expression. Couldn't tell if he was angry or amused or something else entirely. Then he stood up and walked toward the door. She should run. Should apologize and leave and never speak of this again. But her feet wouldn't move. He pushed the door open wider. Up close, she could see the sweat on his skin, the way his chest still heaved slightly from exertion. He smelled like salt and something expensive. Cologne or body wash or just him. "Enjoying the show?" His voice was low. Dangerous. "I heard music. I was just..." "Watching me work out." Her face burned. "I wasn't... I mean, I was walking by and..." "And you stopped to stare." "I'm sorry." "You apologize a lot for someone who keeps doing things she shouldn't." "I know. I'll just..." She gestured vaguely toward the kitchen. "How'd your interview go?" The question threw her. "What?" "Your phone interview. This morning. How was it?" "How did you know about that?" "Chloe mentioned it yesterday." He took a drink of water, and she tried very hard not to watch his throat work as he swallowed. "So?" "It was fine. They said they'd call next week." "That's good." "Maybe. I don't know." She twisted her hands together. "I applied to like forty jobs. Only got one call back. The market is awful right now." "What kind of design do you do?" "Mostly branding. Logos, marketing materials. Some web design." He nodded slowly, like he was filing that information away. "You should eat breakfast. Low blood sugar makes interviews harder." "I had coffee." "Coffee isn't food." "It has calories." "Leighton." The way he said her name made her stomach flip. Like he was scolding her and testing how it sounded at the same time. "I'll eat something," she said. "Good." He stepped back into the gym. "And next time you want to watch me work out, you can just come in instead of lurking in the doorway." Before she could respond, he closed the door. She stood there for a full minute, her heart pounding. Had he just... was he flirting with her? Or making fun of her? She genuinely couldn't tell. She went to the kitchen and made toast she didn't want, eating it mechanically while staring at nothing. Her phone buzzed with a video call. Chloe. She answered, propping the phone against a fruit bowl. "Hey! How'd the interview go?" Chloe's face filled the screen, bright and cheerful. "Fine. I think." "That's great! See, I told you things would work out." Chloe shifted, and Leighton could see she was in a coffee shop. "How's everything there? Is Noah being decent?" Leighton thought about last night. The broken glass. His eyes on her pajamas. The way he'd told her to stop apologizing. "Yeah. He's been... fine." "Really? Because I know he can be kind of intense. If he's being an ass, you can tell me. I'll kick his ass for you." "No, seriously. It's fine. He's barely around." The lie tasted bitter. "I hardly see him." "Good. That's good." Chloe took a sip of her coffee. "I feel bad about just dumping you there and running to work every day. I should have taken time off." "Don't be ridiculous. You've done enough. More than enough." "You're my best friend. There's no such thing as enough." Chloe's expression softened. "I mean it, Leigh. If you need anything, or if Noah gives you any shit, just tell me." "I will. I promise." They talked for a few more minutes about nothing important. Chloe's work drama. The new restaurant she wanted to try. Normal things that made Leighton's chest ache with how much she missed her regular life. After they hung up, she sat in the empty kitchen and hated herself a little for lying. Chloe deserved the truth. But what would she even say? *Your brother looked at me in my pajamas and now I can't stop thinking about him? I watched him work out like a creep this morning.* Yeah. That would go over well. She cleaned up her breakfast mess and headed back upstairs. The gym door was closed now, the music silent. Noah was probably in the shower. She tried very hard not to picture that. Back in her room, she opened her laptop to apply to more jobs. But her email had a new message. From the company she'd interviewed with this morning. Her heart jumped. They'd said next week. It had only been an hour. She clicked it open. *Thank you for your time this morning. Unfortunately, we've decided to move forward with other candidates. We wish you the best in your job search.* She read it three times. Each time, the words felt sharper. Not even a full hour. They couldn't even wait a day to reject her. She closed the laptop and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. One week down. One week to go. And still no job prospects. No apartment leads. Nothing but a growing pile of rejections and a dangerous attraction to a completely off-limits man. Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number. *Stop beating yourself up. One rejection isn't the end of the world. - N* She stared at the message. How did he even get her number? Chloe, probably. She typed back: *How did you know I got rejected?* *I didn't. But you had that look on your face after the interview. Like you were waiting for bad news.* *What looks?* *The same one you had when you showed up here with one suitcase.* She didn't know what to say to that. The fact that he'd noticed. That he'd been paying attention. Another text came through: *For what it's worth, they're idiots.* Despite everything, she smiled. *Thanks* She waited to see if he'd respond, but he didn't. She saved his number in her phone, staring at his name for longer than was probably healthy. This was bad. This whole situation was bad. But when her phone buzzed with another job listing Chloe had sent her, she felt just a little bit less alone. And that was the most dangerous thing of all. Chapter 5: House Rules Leighton spent the afternoon in her room, applying to more jobs and trying not to replay Noah's text message over and over in her head. *They're idiots.* Two words shouldn't matter this much. Around five, her stomach reminded her she'd only eaten toast all day. She ventured downstairs, hoping to grab something quick and escape back to her room before anyone noticed. The kitchen was occupied. Noah stood at the island, going through a stack of papers. He'd showered since this morning. His hair was still damp, pushed back from his face. He wore a black t-shirt and jeans, barefoot again. She was starting to think he never wore shoes in the house. He looked up when she entered. "Hey." "Hi." She moved toward the fridge, trying to act casual. Like this morning hadn't happened. Like she hadn't been caught watching him work out like some kind of stalker. "We need to talk." She froze, her hand on the fridge door. "About what?" "Ground rules." "Oh." She turned to face him. "Okay." He set down the papers and crossed his arms. "My office is off-limits. Always. Even if the door's open. Don't go in there unless I specifically invite you." "I already apologized for that." "I know. This is me making sure it doesn't happen again." His voice was firm. Professional. Like he was running a business meeting. "Second, the gym. Same rule. Don't come in while I'm working out." Her face heated. "I wasn't trying to..." "Third, my bedroom. That should be obvious, but I'm saying it anyway. Stay out." "Are you done?" The words came out sharper than she intended. His eyebrows rose. "Excuse me?" "Are you done treating me like a child who doesn't know how to respect boundaries?" "I'm establishing expectations." "You're making a list of all the ways I'm not allowed to exist in your space." She crossed her own arms, mirroring his stance. "I get it. You don't want me here. You've made that pretty clear. But I'm not eight years old anymore, Noah. You don't need to lecture me about not touching your stuff or wandering into rooms I shouldn't." Something flickered in his eyes. He pushed off the island and moved toward her, closing the distance between them. She held her ground, even though every instinct told her to step back. He stopped a foot away. Near enough that she had to tilt her head to meet his gaze. "No," he said quietly. "You're not eight anymore." The way he said it made her breath catch. His eyes traveled down her face, lingering on her mouth, then lower. Taking in the curve of her neck. The way her t-shirt fit. How her jeans hugged her hips. When his gaze came back to hers, there was heat in it. Dark and dangerous. "That's the problem," he added. She couldn't speak. Couldn't think. Her heart pounded so hard she was sure he could hear it. "What's the problem?" she managed. "You. Here. In my house." He shook his head, like he was trying to clear it. "Chloe's best friend. Twenty-three years old. Completely off-limits." "I didn't ask to be here." "I know." "And I'm not trying to... I don't..." She struggled to find words. "I'm just trying to stay out of your way until I can leave." "That's another rule." His voice had an edge now. "Stop trying to be invisible. It's not working." "What do you want from me?" "I don't know." He ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear on his face. "That's the problem. I don't know what I want, and that's not something I'm used to." They stood there, the tension between them thick enough to cut. Leighton's skin felt too tight. Her mouth is too dry. She wanted to move closer and run away at the same time. "For what it's worth," she said quietly, "I don't know what I want either." His jaw clenched. "Yes, you do." "What's that supposed to mean?" "It means I see the way you look at me. Like I'm something you want but know you can't have." He leaned in slightly, and she caught the scent of his soap. "You've been looking at me like that since you were sixteen." Her face burned. "I wasn't..." "You were. At Chloe's birthday party. You wore a blue dress. You stood in the corner all night, watching me." She remembered that party. Remembered the dress. Remembered how she'd felt when Noah had walked in with some blonde model on his arm. Remembered spending the whole night wishing she was brave enough to talk to him. "I had a crush on you," she admitted. "So what? Half the girls in Chloe's school had crushes on you. It didn't mean anything." "Didn't it?" "No. I was a kid. Kids get crushes. They grow out of them." "Did you? Grow out of it?" The question hung between them. She should lie. Should tell him yes, of course, she was over it. That she didn't feel anything when he looked at her. That her heart didn't race when he got close. But she was tired of lying. "I don't know," she said. "Did you grow out of treating every woman like a temporary distraction?" His expression darkened. "That's not fair." "Neither is calling me out for how I look at you when you've been doing the same thing to me since I got here." "I haven't..." "You have. In the kitchen last night. In the gym this morning. Right now." She took a step closer, emboldened by her own anger. "So don't act like I'm the only one feeling something I shouldn't." His hand came up, catching her chin. Tilting her face up to his. "You're right. I have been looking. Want to know what I see?" She couldn't breathe. "What?" "Trouble. The kind I swore I was done with." His thumb brushed over her bottom lip, and she shivered. "The kind that makes me want to break every one of my own rules." "Then maybe you shouldn't make so many rules." For a second, she thought he might kiss her. His eyes dropped to her mouth. His hand tightened on her chin. She could feel the heat radiating off his body. Then he let go and stepped back, breaking the spell. "Two more rules," he said, his voice rough. "Stay out of trouble. And stay out of my head." "How am I supposed to do that?" "Figure it out." He grabbed his papers and walked out, leaving her standing alone in the kitchen, her whole body trembling. She touched her lips where his thumb had been. Her skin still tingled from his touch. This was bad. This was so much worse than a childhood crush. This was a real attraction. Real chemistry. The kind that could ruin everything. Her phone buzzed. Chloe. *Dinner tomorrow night? I'm bringing Thai food. Miss you!* Guilt crashed over her. Chloe. Her best friend. Who had specifically warned her years ago that Noah was off-limits. Who had saved her from being homeless? Who trusted her? She typed back quickly. *Miss you too. Can't wait.* She set the phone down and pressed her hands to her face. She needed to get it together. Needed to stop whatever this was before it went any further. But when she closed her eyes, all she could feel was his thumb on her lip. All she could hear was his voice saying *You're trouble*. And the worst part? She wanted to be. She wanted to be the kind of trouble that made Noah Knight break his own rules. She grabbed a protein bar from the pantry and headed back to her room. As she passed his office, she heard him inside. Talking on the phone. His voice was calm and controlled. Completely different from how he'd sounded in the kitchen. How many versions of himself did he have? The cold businessman who'd told her two weeks maximum. The gym rat who caught her watching. The man who texted her about rejections. The one who'd just touched her face like he wanted to do more. Which one was real? Maybe they all were. Maybe Noah Knight was just as complicated and messed up as she was. That should have been comforting. Instead, it just made her want him more. She locked her door and climbed into bed, even though it was barely six. Tomorrow Chloe would be here. Tomorrow she'd have to pretend everything was fine. That nothing had happened. That she and Noah were just two people sharing a house, nothing more. She could do that. She'd been pretending her whole life. What was one more lie? Chapter 6: The Shirt Incident Leighton woke up to her phone buzzing. A text from Chloe. *Emergency at work. Can't do dinner tonight. Rain check? I'm so sorry!* Disappointment settled in her chest, followed quickly by relief she didn't want to examine too closely. *No worries. We'll do it another time.* She set her phone down and stared at the ceiling. Another day in this house. Another day of avoiding Noah while simultaneously wanting to find him. This was getting ridiculous. She needed to do laundry. She'd been rewearing the same few outfits all week, and everything was starting to smell like desperation and bad decisions. The laundry room took twenty minutes to find. Of course it did. This house was designed to make her look stupid. She threw everything in. All her clothes, her sheets, towels. Might as well do it all at once. She added detergent and started the machine, then headed back upstairs in the tank top and shorts she'd slept in. An hour later, she went back down to move things to the dryer. The machine was still running. She stared at it. Checked the settings. Heavy wash cycle. Two hours total. Perfect. Just perfect. She trudged back upstairs. She could wait it out in her room. Except her room was freezing. The air conditioning had kicked into overdrive, and she was already shivering in her thin tank top. She needed something warm. A hoodie. A blanket. Anything. Her eyes landed on the door across the hall. Noah's room. Absolutely not. That was literally rule number three. Stay out of his bedroom. But he wasn't home. She'd heard him leave an hour ago, talking on the phone about meetings and contracts. He'd be gone for hours. He'd never know. Just in and out. Grab a sweatshirt or something. Put it back before he got home. She opened his door slowly, half expecting an alarm to go off. The room was immaculate. King-size bed with dark gray sheets, perfectly made. Modern furniture, all clean lines. The space smelled like him. That expensive cologne or body wash or whatever it was that made her brain go fuzzy. His closet was huge. Rows of suits, dress shirts, perfectly organized by color. She pushed past them to the casual section. Found a white button-down shirt that looked soft and worn. Perfect. She pulled it on over her tank top. It fell to mid-thigh, the sleeves hanging past her hands. She rolled them up and headed back to her room. Except her room was still freezing. The kitchen, she decided. She'd make tea. Wait down there until her clothes were done. She padded downstairs in Noah's shirt and her bare feet. The house was quiet. Peaceful, even. She could almost pretend it was hers. That she belonged here. She put the kettle on and rummaged through the tea selection. Someone had expensive taste. Everything was loose-leaf and imported and probably cost more than her old grocery budget. The front door opened. Her head snapped up. No. He wasn't supposed to be back yet. Footsteps in the hallway. Getting closer. Noah appeared in the kitchen doorway and stopped dead. His eyes traveled down her body. Slowly. Taking in the white shirt. Her bare legs. Her bare feet. His shirt, hanging off her shoulder where she'd apparently missed a button. "Hi," she said weakly. He didn't respond. Just stared at her, his jaw tight. "I can explain." "You're wearing my shirt." "My clothes are in the wash. Everything. I didn't have anything clean and I was cold, so I..." She trailed off. His expression hadn't changed. "I'm sorry. I know you said not to go in your room. I'll take it off right now." "Don't." The word came out rough. Almost harsh. She froze. "What?" "Don't take it off." He set his briefcase down by the door, his movements careful. Controlled. "Not here." "Oh." Her face burned. "Right. I'll just go upstairs and..." "How long until your clothes are done?" "An hour, maybe?" He nodded once. Then he moved into the kitchen, giving her a wide berth. Like he didn't trust himself to get too close. He went to the fridge and pulled out a water bottle. Drank half of it in one go. His hand gripped the bottle tight enough that his knuckles went white. The kettle whistled. Leighton jumped, then turned to grab it. She poured water over the tea bag, hyperaware of Noah behind her. Of the way his shirt shifted as she moved. Of how little she was wearing underneath it. "Why are you home early?" she asked, just to fill the silence. "Meeting got canceled." "Oh." More silence. She could feel his eyes on her back. Could practically feel the weight of his gaze. She turned around, holding her mug like a shield. He was leaning against the far counter, arms crossed. His eyes were dark. Intense. "Stop looking at me like that," she said. "Like what?" "Like you're thinking things you shouldn't be thinking." "I could say the same to you." "I'm not..." "You are." He pushed off the counter. "You've been looking at me like that since you got here. Like you want something from me." "I don't want anything from you." "Liar." The word hung between them. Challenge and accusation and something else she couldn't name. "Fine," she said. "Maybe I do. So what? Nothing's going to happen. You've made that clear." "Have I?" "You listed off your rules yesterday. Stay out of your space. Stay out of your head. Stay away from you." "I don't remember saying that last part." "It was implied." He moved closer. Not much. Just a step. But it felt like the distance between them had shrunk by miles. "You want to know what I was thinking?" he asked quietly. "No." "Liar," he said again. "You want to know. You're dying to know." She set down her mug before she dropped it. "Noah..." "I was thinking about how that's my favorite shirt. I've had it for five years. Worn it a hundred times." Another step closer. "And now I'm never going to be able to wear it again without thinking about this. About you in my kitchen, wearing nothing but my shirt, looking at me like you want me to break all my own rules." Her breath caught. "I'm not..." "Your clothes aren't in the wash." "What?" "You heard me." His eyes bore into hers. "You could have worn your tank top and shorts. Could have grabbed a blanket from the linen closet. Could have done a dozen other things. But you went into my room and took my shirt." "I was cold." "Bullshit. You wanted to see what I'd do if I found you wearing it." "That's not true." "Then why are you still standing here?" He took another step. Close enough now that she could see the muscle ticking in his jaw. "If you really didn't want this, you'd already be upstairs. But you're not moving. Because you want to know what happens next." "Nothing happens next." Her voice came out breathy. Unconvincing. "You're Chloe's brother. I'm her best friend. Nothing can happen." "I know." "So we should stop. Right now. Before we do something stupid." "I know," he said again. But neither of them moved. The air between them felt electric. Dangerous. Like one wrong move would make something explode. His eyes dropped to her mouth. Lingered there. She could see him fighting with himself. See the moment he decided to leave. He stepped back. Grabbed his briefcase. "Your clothes should be done soon. You should go check on them." "Noah..." "Go, Leighton." It wasn't a request. She went. She practically ran up the stairs, her heart pounding so hard it hurt. She could still feel his eyes on her. Could still hear the rough edge in his voice when he'd said *my favorite shirt*. She stopped outside his bedroom door. The shirt felt different now. Like it was touching her everywhere. Like he was touching her. She should take it off. Should put it back and pretend this never happened. Instead, she went to her room and sat on the bed, pulling the collar up to her face. It smelled like him. Like that expensive scent that made her head spin. She was in so much trouble. Her phone buzzed. Noah. *Keep the shirt.* She stared at the message. Typed back: *What?* *Keep it. I meant what I said. I can't wear it anymore without thinking about this. About you.* *Noah, we can't...* *I know. Trust me, I know. But I'm done pretending I don't notice you. Done pretending I don't want things I shouldn't want.* *What are we doing?* *I don't know. But I'm tired of lying about it.* She clutched the phone to her chest. This was a terrible idea. The worst idea. It would ruin everything with Chloe. Would blow up in both their faces. But god, she wanted it anyway. She wanted him anyway. *Me too,* she typed. Then, before she could overthink it: *I'm tired of pretending too.* His response came immediately. *Then stop.* Two words. Two words that felt like permission and warning all at once. She lay back on the bed, still wearing his shirt, and wondered how she'd gotten here. How she'd gone from fired and homeless to living in Noah Knight's house, texting him about things they shouldn't want. Her life was a mess. akinmutimi4 VIRBEY The Luna who was buried alive Exclusive contract 13/03/2026 But for the first time in weeks, she didn't want to be anywhere else.

As a substitute, she wanted to leave but was rejected. She thought her husband might start to have feelings for her, but as it turned out, he simply wanted to wait for his first love to return before getting rid of her. Faced with their intimacy, she taught the sc**bag and his mistress a good lesson and left without hesitation, focusing on her career. However, her unfaithful ex-husband actually began to pester her... ===== "We'll divorce on Monday. Aside from the compensation in the agreement, you may request anything else you need." Kristian Shaw, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, exuded an air of cold detachment. His voice firm and emotionless. His piercing gaze settled on the silent woman opposite him, his eyes inscrutable. "Why so sudden?" Freya Briggs asked, her voice quieter than usual. Kristian's answer was blunt. "Ashley is back." Freya knew exactly who Ashley was. After a brief pause, she replied, "Okay." Kristian hesitated, caught off guard by her immediate acceptance. Freya opened the divorce papers, her thoughts drifting to the past. Two years ago, they had met at a n**htclub. She had been weighed down by worries; he had been nursing a broken heart. A few drinks later, they found solace in each other's company, talking late into the night. There had been no impulsive o*e-n**ht st*nd--just a quiet parting afterward. Three days later, he had returned with his assistant to propose marriage. And she had agreed. After getting married, he had treated her well--tending to her needs, drying her hair with gentle hands, and solving her problems before she even voiced them. Their relationship had been perfect--until six months ago, when a single phone call changed everything. Overnight, he grew distant, his warmth replaced by icy indifference. That was when she learned the truth: Kristian had married her because she bore a faint resemblance to his lost love, Ashley Bradley. The memory made Freya press her lips together before she asked lightly, "You said I could ask for compensation, right?" "Yes," Kristian replied flatly. "Anything I want?" She lifted her gaze to him, her delicate face devoid of its usual brightness. For a fleeting moment, guilt flickered in his ch*st. "Yes." He had already resolved to grant her reasonable demands. After all, she had been good to him all the time. Freya's voice was steady. "Then I want the most expensive car in your garage." "Fine," Kristian agreed. "A villa in the suburbs," she added. "Done," he said. Freya smiled. "And a share of the money you've earned in the last two years." For the first time, Kristian's composure cracked. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if questioning whether he'd heard correctly. "What did you say?" Freya, unfazed, repeated her demand. "Our earnings during the marriage count as marital property, don't they? Based on my calculations--excluding investments--your salary and dividends over the last two years amount to several billion. I don't want much--just 40%." A heavy silence settled between them. Then, she added, as if casually mentioning the weather, "Of course, you're welcome to take 40% of my income too." Kristian's patience finally snapped. "Freya!" His voice carried an edge of disbelief. Had he really felt guilty earlier? How had he never noticed her greed? Freya met his gaze evenly. "Is that not acceptable?" Absolutely not. Kristian dismissed the idea instantly. "Then forget it." Freya set down her pen. "Next time I see your family, I'll bring up your emotional infidelity. I'm sure they'll take my side." Kristian's expression darkened, his stare turning glacial. He hadn't anticipated this side of her--realizing now that her past docility had been an act. "Do you really want to negotiate with me like this?" he demanded. "Yes." Freya held his gaze without flinching. She knew he despised threats--but she despised infidelity more. "Fine." Kristian's eyes turned stormy, his voice glacial. "You'll get what you want. But if the divorce hits complications, you'll regret it." Freya leaned back in her chair, her tone razor-sharp. "Kristian Shaw, is that a threat?" This version of her was foreign to Kristian. For two years, she'd been the picture of compliance--gentle, accommodating, never defiant. Now, she met his anger with unshakable calm. "No." Already calculating countermeasures, he bit out, "You'll have the assets. We divorce on Monday." Freya's lashes lowered briefly before she added, "One more condition." "Speak." His patience frayed. "Take me shopping tomorrow." She ignored the frost radiating from him. "Afterward, we'll tell your family together that I ended things." "Deal," Kristian conceded. With that, he strode toward the door, unable to stomach another second in her presence. Earlier, he'd even considered granting her a grace period to process the divorce. How laughable. She couldn't wait to carve up his fortune and be rid of him. Had Freya been able to read his thoughts, she might have laughed and said, "That little money? Do you really think I care?" Kristian reached the door and halted. Without turning around, he said, "I won't be back tonight. I'll pick you up at nine tomorrow morning. Make a list of the stores you want to visit." Freya's voice followed him, calm but laced with something sharp. "Are you going to see Ashley Bradley?" Kristian's jaw tightened. "That's none of your business." Freya let out a quiet breath, as if she had already expected that answer. "I don't tolerate cheating," she said plainly. "So before the divorce is finalized, you'd better not end up in b*d with her." Kristian whirled back, looming over her. Freya didn't blink. "What? Can't endure two more days?" "I understand your bitterness," he said, eerily composed, "but lashing out won't help. This is a divorce, not war." Freya blinked at him. For a moment, she was at a loss for words. This man was truly shameless. Kristian didn't wait for a response. "Good night." And with that, he turned and left. The door clicked shut behind him. Freya's gaze drifted down to the divorce papers still lying on the table. She stood there for a long time, unmoving. To say she felt nothing would have been a lie. She wasn't made of stone. The moment she discovered she was nothing more than a stand-in, the hurt had settled deep in her bones. Kristian had been her first love. In twenty-four years, no one else had breached her defenses. Before the betrayal, he'd been perfection itself--attentive, steady, silencing every doubt with his quiet devotion. So when she learned of Ashley, she'd offered to leave. To free him. But he'd refused. Chapter 2 Kristian Was Pure S**mbag The reason behind Kristian's refusal was simple. Before Ashley returned, he needed someone to manage his elders at home--and Freya, adored by his parents and grandpa, was the obvious choice. But sometimes, Freya couldn't help but wonder--did he really think she was a f*ol? Otherwise, why would he assume she'd play along in hiding his a**air? Now, with his sudden demand for divorce, frustration simmered inside her. Even after six months of steeling herself, a stubborn flicker of emotion remained. She let out a slow breath, crossed to the sofa, and grabbed her phone. She tapped the contact labeled "Fred"--untouched for two years--and typed, "Check if Shaw Group's facing any issues. And find out if Kristian's terminally ill." Fred's replies exploded onto the screen instantly. "Holy--Freya?!" "Never thought I'd hear from you again!" "Two years, Freya. TWO." "Where've you been?!" She didn't bother explaining. Mood sour, she fired back a single word, "Check." Fred caved. "On it!" She tossed the phone aside and waited. If Kristian was divorcing her to spare her some tragedy, she'd forgive him--maybe even help. But if he was just an unfaithful j**k? She'd drop him without a second thought. Thirty minutes later, her phone buzzed with Fred's verdict. "Zero troubles. No illness, no crisis. Why the h*ll are you asking? Kristian's loaded, hot, and sharp--you two are a match. Don't you like pretty boys? Give it a shot!" She ignored the jab and shot back, "You are so blind." Then she silenced her phone. No external factors meant only one thing--Kristian was pure s*um. Fred stared at his screen, baffled. Did Freya wake up in a mood today? Freya's gaze landed on the divorce papers. After a pause, she snatched a pen, scrawled her name, and shoved them into a drawer. Then she headed for the shower. When she emerged, her phone was a disaster--dozens of unread messages and 32 missed calls. No guessing needed. Frederick Price--aka Fred--had clearly blabbed about her resurrection to the entire world. Towel draped over her damp hair, she reached for her phone--only for it to ring again. The caller ID flashed; it was her father. Her ch*st tightened. Two years of silence, and now he called? She'd left Alerith City due to a situation involving her mother, and neither had she reached out to her father nor had he contacted her--until now. After a pause, she answered coolly. "Hello." Silence. Freya, never one for patience, was about to hang up when Hugh Briggs' raspy voice cut through. "Mina." That name clawed at buried memories. "What do you want?" she asked flatly. Hugh hesitated, guilt threading his words. "Frederick told me you reached out. Said you were digging into Kristian. Need help?" "No." Freya had no interest in his involvement. A beat passed before Hugh ventured, "What's your relationship with him?" "A couple." She let the word hang. "About to divorce." Hugh's breath hitched. She was married? "You--" he started. "If that's all, I'm done." Freya didn't want to waste any more breath on him. "Wait!" he rushed. She held her tongue. The line crackled with tension. Finally, he muttered, "When are you coming back? That woman's gone." Then, hastily, he added, "Your mom's belongings are untouched." Her fingers tightened around the phone. For a flicker, emotion crossed her face--then vanished. "Noted." She hung up before he could protest. Hugh stared at the dead line, frustration curdling in his ch*st. He hadn't even asked about her marriage. Freya didn't spare him another thought. She flicked her phone to airplane mode, towel-dried her hair, and collapsed into b*d. The night passed without dreams. By eight the next morning, she was up--dressed and breakfasted. Today, she'd taken care with her makeup. Her skin glowed; her lips, naturally full, needed no enhancement. But her eyes--sharp, luminous--were the real weapon. Her smile was bright, bringing a warmth that could instantly lift anyone's spirits. When Kristian arrived, she was already waiting on the sofa. Her shoulder-length hair was pinned back, bangs swept up under a black beret. At the sight of him, she rose gracefully, reaching for a coat and draping it over her shoulder. "Let's go." She grabbed her purse, her tone composed and unbothered. Kristian didn't move. His tailored suit emphasized his height as he said, "Not today." Freya stilled. "I have other commitments." His voice was indifferent. His gaze lingered--too long--on her face. "Tomorrow." "Kristian Shaw." Her tone was a warning. He disliked it instantly. "I put on makeup today," she said, her voice deceptively calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. "If you want our divorce to go smoothly on Monday, push aside whatever plans you have. I don't deal with people who break their promises." Kristian's eyes narrowed. After a silent calculation, he stepped out to make a call. Fragments floated back--Ashley... hospital... follow-up. Freya's grip on her purse turned white-knuckled. Inside, she seethed. Even now, Ashley occupied his thoughts completely. Kristian missed Freya's fury. All he saw was how she shone today--vibrant, untamed. Nothing like the subdued woman he knew. After hanging up, he inquired where she wanted to shop. Freya mentioned the largest luxury mall in town. This wasn't shopping. This was a spree. By 10 AM, the four bodyguards trailed behind her like pack mules--arms stacked with watches, jewels, designer bags. Kristian's phone chimed nonstop with alerts. As Freya strode into yet another jewelry boutique, his jaw hardened. This wasn't retail therapy; she was intentionally trying to irritate him. Chapter 3 Why Hurt Ashley? Gerard Todd, Kristian's ever-dutiful assistant, hesitated for a moment before asking, "Sir, should I go ahead and book a restaurant?" Kristian massaged his temples, irritation flashing across his face. "No need." He knew Freya was venting her frustration. If splurging eased her temper, so be it--he'd let her spend freely. The moment the words left his mouth, his phone vibrated. Another alert flashed--over thirty million had just vanished from his account. Gerard averted his eyes, while the four bodyguards stood stiffly, arms laden with shopping bags like silent, overburdened mules. Freya strode out of the jewelry boutique and casually handed her latest purchase to Gerard, whose hands were conspicuously empty. Just as she turned to continue her spree, Kristian's phone rang. His posture shifted instantly. The tension in his shoulders eased, his frown softening as he glanced at the caller ID. Long fingers cradled the phone, his voice uncharacteristically tender as he answered. "Hello, Ashley." Gerard and the bodyguards exchanged startled glances. Had their boss forgotten Freya was standing right there? "Ashley was in a car accident on her way to a hospital follow-up. She's unconscious--still in surgery," the voice on the line blurted, frantic. "Please come. She kept calling your name before they took her in." "Send the address. I'm on my way." Kristian's ch*st constricted, the words sharp with urgency. He ended the call, his gaze flickering to Freya. An explanation hovered on his lips, but he swallowed it. Instead, he turned to Gerard and the bodyguards. "Stay with her. Buy whatever she wants. If it doesn't fit in the car, have it delivered by this afternoon." "Yes, sir," the five men chorused. Without another word, Kristian strode off, leaving Freya and the others in his wake. An uncomfortable silence settled over the group. Gerard adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, forcing a polished smile. "Mrs. Shaw, don't worry. Mr. Shaw will return once he handles matters." "What a loyal employee," Freya murmured, her tone laced with something unreadable. Gerard blinked, thrown by her response. Freya studied the mall's glittering chandeliers, her voice deliberate. "Being his assistant is one thing. But cleaning up his messes? Tell me, Gerard--have you ever seen a man ditch his wife mid-date to run to his mi**ress?" The bodyguards stiffened; Gerard's smile froze. For a heartbeat, all five men stared at her with something dangerously close to pity. This might be the price of marrying into wealth--knowing her husband had left her for another woman while she was expected to swallow the insult. "Save the sympathy." Freya scoffed, amused by their expressions. She gestured to the bags weighing them down. "A single one of those could cover your salary for a year. Maybe ten." The blow landed perfectly. She pressed, "Well, anything you'd like?" Five pairs of eyes widened in unison. Freya's mind worked in ways they couldn't follow. "Since he's off playing hero for his darling, let's put his money to better use." She twirled the black card between her fingers, her voice quieter now. The sting surprised her. She hadn't realized Kristian's departure would still claw at her. Right now, all she wanted was to drain his account dry. Gerard and the bodyguards gaped. Delighted by their shock, Freya resumed shopping, the card clutched like a weapon. She assumed Kristian would linger at the hospital all day. But as she sat down to eat, he appeared like a storm, his presence slicing through the restaurant's warmth. Before anyone could react, he seized Freya's wrist and hauled her toward the parking area, his grip ironclad. Her back slammed against the car door, pain radiating through her. She winced. What the hell was his problem? His accusation came like a whip crack, "Why hurt Ashley?" Kristian trembled with suppressed rage. "You hired that hit-and-run driver, didn't you? I gave you everything you wanted, the house, the car, the money. What more do you want? Why did you still hurt her?" He looked like vengeance personified, his eyes glacial. "When did I--" Freya's confusion was genuine. "Still lying?" His voice could've frosted glass. "You planned this. Picked today so I'd be distracted while your hired man ran her down. You know I'd die before letting her suffer." His voice was Arctic frost, the kind that seeped into bones and made spines stiffen. Freya's initial fury dissolved into something colder, sharper. His absurd accusation had an ironic effect--it drained her rage, leaving only icy clarity. She met his gaze, lips curling in derision. "How poetic. Turning betrayal into some grand romance." "Freya Briggs!" Kristian's control frayed, his shout raw with warning. "You're delusional." She didn't flinch, status be damned. "Think. Why would I trash my fresh start--my freedom--over someone like her?" "You know exactly why." His voice dropped lower, a bl**e pressed to her throat. A realization flickered. "Ah. You think I'm still obsessed with you?" Kristian said nothing, but his clenched jaw and the fire in his eyes were answer enough. "Why should I still want you?" Freya laughed, the sound brittle. "After being treated as a stand-in? After your infidelity? After watching you fawn over another woman?" The words landed like sl*ps. Kristian stiffened. "I didn't cheat," he ground out. "You handed her your heart while wearing my ring." Her smile was lethal. "That's cheating." "Enough deflection," he snapped. "You're the one hallucinating conspiracies!" Silence. Kristian studied her, as if peeling back layers for the first time. The weight of his scrutiny was suffocating. Freya refused to wilt. "So she claimed I hired a man to k*ll her, and you just... believed her?" "Yes." His anger faltered under her unwavering stare, but the frost remained. "Ashley didn't lie. And she has proof." Freya's brows arched. Her fingers dug into her bag strap, knuckles whitening. "Perfect. Let's go to the hospital. Right now." Kristian blinked. Her immediate agreement threw him. Guilty people didn't invite confrontation. Doubt slithered in. Was the evidence fabricated? "Move." Her command shattered his thoughts. He released her wrist, disconcerted by her detachment. Something ugly twisted in his ch*st--annoyance? Guilt? Before he could name it, he yanked out his keys and wrenched the car door open. Chapter 4 Are You Threatening Me? Gerard stepped forward swiftly to take the keys, assuming the role of driver without hesitation. Freya yanked the passenger door open and slid inside, her gaze fixed straight ahead--ignoring Kristian entirely. A knot of dread tightened in Gerard's ch*st. What if Freya said something outrageous? The thought made his fingers clench around the wheel. After a weighted pause, he ventured, "Mrs. Shaw, you--" "Drive." Her reply was a bl**e, sharp and final. Gerard flicked a glance at the rearview mirror. Kristian's expression gave nothing away. Swallowing hard, he pulled out of the parking area. Silence smothered the car like a thick fog. The tension was unbearable. Gerard's shoulders tensed, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white. Neither Kristian nor Freya spoke. Both radiated a frost so deep it could've cracked the windows. Gerard knew Kristian's moods well--but Freya? She'd been almost cheerful earlier. What the hell happened? He bit back a sigh. Questions wouldn't help now. In the back seat, Kristian's gaze drifted unbidden to Freya's profile. Something unfamiliar twisted in his ch*st--an emotion he refused to name. Thirty minutes later, the car halted at the hospital entrance. Kristian seized Freya's wrist, dragging her toward the VIP ward. His grip was iron, unyielding. She winced, her voice dripping with mockery. "At this rate, I won't be the one charged--you'll be arrested for assault first." He dropped her arm like it burned him. Angry red marks circled her skin. Freya shot him a look so scathing it could've melted steel. Guilt flickered in Kristian's ch*st--brief, unwelcome. It vanished the moment Ashley's bruised face flashed in his mind. "Follow me," he muttered, turning on his heel. He didn't wait to see if Freya obeyed. The door swung open. Ashley lay propped up in b*d, her face lighting up at the sight of Kristian. "Kristian," she breathed, voice sweet with devotion. He was at her side in an instant, fingers brushing hers in silent reassurance. Freya strode in, took one look at them, and smirked. "Should I leave? Give you two some privacy?" "Freya. Enough." Kristian's voice was winter itself. He didn't look at Freya, his hand still resting on Ashley's back. "You're here to apologize." Freya closed the distance to the b*d, studying Ashley properly for the first time--soft features, delicate frame, eyes wide with practiced innocence. Ah. Now she understood. This was the woman Kristian loved. "Miss Bradley." Freya laced her fingers together. "My darling tells me you've accused me of hiring your attacker--with evidence." She stressed the word, gaze locked on Kristian. "Care to share?" "Kristian..." Ashley's fingers tightened around his, her lower lip trembling... ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &5&

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"Want me, Adeline?" Blaine's voice brushed my ear as his hands locked around my hips. I clutched the bedframe while he drove into me again, and a bright shock of pleasure raced through every nerve I had. My back bowed under him. A helpless sound slipped out of me, half sigh and half surrender. "Yes... it feels amazing." "Then let me have my turn, baby." He gave a low, rough laugh, and the tempo of his body changed—harder, faster, more demanding. I went loose beneath him, stripped of strength, carried only by the force of him. When the climax finally broke over him, it came with a deep, feral sound. His broad weight dropped against mine for a second, our bodies still tangled together. I reached for him instinctively, wanting to keep him close, but he was already moving. He rose from the mattress in one smooth motion and took the edge of the bed, dragging a hand back through his tousled hair. I stared at his side profile instead. He looked unreal—carved, polished, impossible. The line of his jaw was so severe it seemed chiseled by a sculptor's hand, like some living statue brought to life. That perfect Alpha belonged to me. Blaine had power, beauty, status, and the authority of the Briarcliff Pack behind him, one of the most feared packs on the East Coast. I had none of that. I was only an Omega with no pack to stand behind me. Still, he had never been cruel to me. He treated me gently, spoke with respect, and never humiliated me in front of the others. Yet there was always distance under the softness, something I could feel even in the heat of bed. Our marriage had started as a bargain for politics, and for three years our bodies had fit together almost perfectly while the center of him stayed sealed away. The one thing that made that gulf unbearable was the reason the pack kept whispering: I still hadn't given him an heir. I had gone to the clinic again and again. My best friend—the pack doctor—kept telling me the same thing: I was healthy, only overwhelmed. But that answer never reached the people gossiping behind my back. Blaine never accused me outright, but his silence only made the shame heavier. Tonight, though, was supposed to end all of that. Two weeks earlier, I had learned I was pregnant. My fingers slid over the small curve of my stomach. It was still flat, still easy to hide, but it carried everything I had been waiting for. Today was our third anniversary, and I had chosen this night on purpose. I wanted to tell him myself. I was gambling every last piece of my heart on the hope that he would finally let me in—that he would look at me and, just once, choose me in return. "Blaine," I said quietly, my voice rough from what had just happened. "Adeline, we need to talk." He cut across me at once and stepped away, leaving me with a sudden, cold hollow where his body had been. I swallowed and forced my lips into something like a smile. "What is it?" The air seemed to harden around us. Blaine grabbed the robe from the floor, shrugged it on, and then said in a flat voice, "We should get a divorce." For a moment, I felt as if the room had tipped sideways. My ears rang. "What did you say?" I managed, but even to me, my voice sounded thin and broken. "Serena is back." His words landed like a blow. The name split through me with brutal clarity. Serena—his fated mate. The daughter of his former Beta. They had been meant to hold a mating ceremony and spend their lives together. Instead, disaster had struck. Serena had thrown herself in front of Blaine during a rogue attack and taken a devastating wound straight to the heart. Even after that, Blaine had never let go of the idea of being with her. Then she vanished without warning. For three years there had been no trace of her. I had almost managed to forget she existed. I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood, trying to keep my hands from shaking. Blaine looked at me once, briefly, and then kept going. "Her wolf spirit was badly damaged in that attack, so she went away to recover. The healer told her..." His expression tightened. Guilt shadowed his eyes. "She only has six months left." I went still. A damaged wolf spirit wasn't just weakness. For a werewolf, it was a slow, grim death. "I'm so sorry," I said, and I meant it. "We can find her help. The best healers, herbalists, whatever she needs—" "No." The word came out sharp enough to slice. His impatience had already replaced the guilt. "That's not what she asked for. She only has one wish left." He hesitated for a beat, then set his jaw. "She wants to spend the last six months as my wife." The sound that came out of me was almost a laugh, but it broke before it could become one. Tears blurred my sight. "This can't be serious. Blaine, I'm your mate. And I—" "Adeline, the title of Luna was always meant for Serena." He shut me down without letting me finish. His stare had gone cold again, emptied of warmth. "I expected you to support this." My hand drifted to my stomach. I needed him to understand, needed him to stop before he walked past the point of no return. "Are you really going to do this?" I asked. "Think about it before you decide. Are you sure you won't regret it?" In the pack, a child born outside marriage was never spared judgment. I could already imagine the stares, the whispers, the way my baby would be marked before it even drew breath. Blaine, though, completely misunderstood what I was trying to say. His gaze sharpened into ice. "You really are disappointing, Adeline. I know exactly what you're scared of. You're worried about losing the pack's protection, worried you'll lose the comfortable life I've given you." His mouth curled in disdain. "Fine. I'll fix that for you. I'll hand you an unlimited credit card right now. If you can't even offer a little compassion, then you're hopeless. Cold. Self-centered. Unreasonable. You don't deserve to be loved." The words hit harder than anything else he had said. Then he delivered the final blow. "And that's exactly why your father died," he snapped. "Because he had a weak, useless, selfish daughter who couldn't protect him. He was left to face those rogue wolves alone." My thoughts went blank. How could he say that to me? My father had been killed by rogue wolves. Blaine knew I had nearly fallen apart after losing him. He had been the one who found me and brought me into the Briarcliff Pack. Back then, he had lifted me into his arms and said, "You'll be my Luna. The Luna of the Briarcliff Pack, one of the strongest packs on the East Coast. No one will hurt you again." I could still remember the severity of his face, the strength in his jaw, and the way I had believed him. For one reckless moment, I had thought I had finally found a reason to keep living. Now even that memory felt rotten. The tenderness I had cherished had never truly existed. It had all been my own invention, a lie I had fed myself until it looked like love. In one breath, it was as if the air had been ripped from my lungs. "Fine. I agree to the divorce." My voice came out unnervingly calm. "And I won't accept your mark either." Only by rejecting the mark could we sever the bond properly as wolves. Blaine's eyes flashed. "You think refusing the mark will make me back down? Don't waste your time. It's settled." At that exact moment, the phone on the bedside table started buzzing. The ringtone was unmistakable. Serena. He snatched it up at once. The hard line of his face softened so completely that I barely recognized him; his expression turned warm in a way I had never once managed to earn. When the call ended, the mask snapped back into place. "Serena said she'll stay in the guest wing," he told me. "She's not coming to take your room, Adeline. I won't be bringing her into the master bedroom." Then he looked at me with open disgust and added, "See? You don't even come close to someone like her." Without another glance, he walked out. My knees gave out before I could steady myself. I slid down the wardrobe, one shaky breath at a time, until I was crumpled on the floor. It was almost absurd. I had truly believed tonight would change everything. I had convinced myself this would be the night he finally chose me, the night he loved me back. Instead, it became the most humiliating night of my life. Tears blurred everything. It felt as though my chest had been split into a thousand sharp pieces. Trembling, I pressed my palm over my lower stomach. There was a tiny life there. My friend's warning from the hospital came back to me with painful clarity: "Adeline, you don't have a wolf. If your emotions spiral, the baby could be in danger." I could not afford to fall apart. And I would not accept the cruel terms Blaine had shoved at me. He thought he was being merciful by keeping me from being cast out as a rogue. He knew perfectly well that for an Omega without a wolf, being packless was practically a death sentence. He was betting on my fear. He was certain I wouldn't dare refuse him. But even as despair pressed in around me, another voice surfaced in my memory, low and steady like a growl against my skin. "Adeline, remember... no matter how far you drift, you'll always have me." No. I could not make a deal with the devil. Thirty days. That was how long a divorce took to finalize. One month. It had to be enough time for me to find a way to survive. Then my phone buzzed. A message from Blaine. "Be at the Pack Council Hall tomorrow at nine sharp to finalize the divorce papers." Chapter 2: Fractured Vows I never knew exactly when sleep finally took me. All through the night, my stomach kept knotting and turning, like someone had shoved it into a blender and switched it to high. Since yesterday, the pain had only grown sharper. Was my child reacting to his father's coldness? Was he quietly protesting for me? When I stared at the empty bedroom, the truth hit hard: Blaine had not come back once. So he had spent the entire night with Serena. That thought sent tears rushing back into my eyes. How could he erase everything I had done for him so completely? I still remembered the moment he hauled me out of my father's blood. That was the instant I had fallen for him with everything I had. For three years, I had lived at his command. I was only an Omega, but I was capable, and he had leaned on me for nearly everything. I handled the orphanage for young pups. I settled disputes inside the pack, balanced the accounts, and guarded our reputation with obsessive care. Too many nights, I had worked until the sky went black. Briarcliff’s climb to power was not built on Blaine’s strength alone. It was built on my labor too. Of course, I would bet my life he would never admit that. By the time I looked at the clock, it was already past nine-thirty. I forced myself to hurry through my morning routine. I needed this marriage ended as fast as possible. But the scene at the Council Hall gate made me stop so abruptly I nearly lost my balance. Blaine had Serena locked in his arms, holding her as though she were the rarest thing in the world. Last night, that same chest had been the place I leaned against. The air seemed to vanish from my lungs. For a second, I could not draw a breath. Then came the words that shattered what was left of me. "Of course, Serena. I’ve always loved you," Blaine said, his voice softer than I had ever heard it. "Even when I was making love to Adeline, I was saying your name in my heart." Everything inside me collapsed at once. The skin at my neck burned fiercely, as if someone had pressed a branding iron against it again and again. It was more than pain in my body. It rose from somewhere deeper, ripping through my soul and racing through my veins like fire. My heart felt struck through, then split into a thousand jagged pieces that tore at my chest from the inside out. My face drained white. My knees nearly gave way. So that was it. Every hot night, every moment I had mistaken for closeness, every time I had trembled in his arms and said his name—he had been thinking of Serena all along. I had only been a substitute. A miserable replacement. Then I caught the flicker of a smug smile on Serena’s lips. Was she really sick? A wave of unease twisted through my stomach, and a cramp hit so hard I almost folded in half. No. I could not break here. I could not let them see me fall apart, and I absolutely could not expose the secret of my pregnancy. I clenched my teeth and straightened, drawing on every bit of strength I had left. When I spoke, my voice was steady. "Fine. Let’s get this over with." Blaine’s brows pulled together. His eyes swept over my face, suspicious. "Why do you look so pale?" Before I could answer, Serena broke into a coughing fit. When she finally spoke, her voice was feeble and sweet. "Adeline, I know you’re being forced into this." She pressed herself weakly against Blaine’s arm. "I already begged him. Blaine promised you could keep the life of a Luna." Tears spilled down her cheeks. "Adeline, please don’t blame Blaine for being cruel. He’s only doing this because he’s afraid you’ll have regrets after I’m... after I’m gone." How kind of her. Every sentence she spoke only made Blaine’s devotion to her more obvious. And each word reminded me exactly what I was to him: the clingy wife who refused to let go. Blaine rose to his feet and shot me a cold look. "Come inside. Stop wasting time." He could not wait to be done with me, to leave me behind as quickly as possible. And six months from now, was he really still planning to take me back? I hesitated, and Serena immediately stepped in again, her tone dripping with false concern. "Adeline, it’s not too late if you want to change your mind—" Then she launched into another fit of violent coughing. I cut her off. "Change my mind? For a jerk who thinks about another woman while he’s having sex?" I watched Blaine’s expression harden all over again. I gave him a sharp smile. "So what is it, Alpha Blaine? Are we going in, or do you want me to reconsider?" With a furious shove, he pushed Serena ahead of him toward the office. I followed behind. Seeing them side by side made me feel like an intruder. My eyes started to sting again, but I forced the tears back. There was no point crying over someone who did not love me. The hall was nearly deserted. The moment the staff saw Blaine enter, they shot to their feet in alarm. "Alpha?" "We’re here for a divorce," Blaine said flatly. They froze. Their eyes flicked between Serena and me before landing on me. "Luna..." "Just process it," I said, handing over my ID. Too nervous to ask anything else, the clerk began typing with shaking hands. The only sound in the hall was the system’s sharp beeping, each tone scraping at my nerves. A few minutes later, the clerk suddenly stopped. His face had gone tense and troubled. "Alpha, the system shows that you and Luna Adeline are both registered as core pack members. Under Wolf Pack Law, Section 72, your divorce request has a one-month cooling-off period." Blaine’s face darkened at once. "What did you say?" "I mean that you can only file today," the clerk said, sweating now. "If both sides still want the divorce after thirty days, the mate bond can be officially dissolved then." Thirty days. That meant I would still be wearing the title of Blaine’s wife while he paraded Serena around for a full month. "Is there really no other option?" I heard myself ask, even though I already knew the answer. The clerk wiped at the cold sweat on his forehead. His voice shook. "I’m sorry, Luna. Those are Council rules. The system is locked down. I don’t have permission to override it." Blaine strode up to me, his tall frame throwing me into shadow under the weight of his Alpha aura. "Adeline, are you so desperate to get away from me?" His jaw flexed. "Are you throwing a fit now? I’ve explained this to you more than once. This is temporary. In six months, we’ll remarry, and you’ll still be Luna. Who exactly are you performing for with this 'I’m desperate to escape' act? Trying to make me feel guilty?" He ground the words out through his teeth. I almost laughed. He was the one forcing the divorce, the one who had dragged his old flame in front of me to humiliate me, and now he disliked it because I was finally giving him what he wanted? "Blaine, you really do think too highly of yourself. Do you imagine I’m some pet you can call in and cast out whenever it suits you? When you want me, I’m your Luna. When you don’t, I’m just a placeholder you can toss aside?" I took a step back, putting distance between us. "There is no temporary," I said, my voice carrying through the vast hall, clear and hard. "The second I sign, we’re finished. Permanently." Blaine reached out as if to grab my arm, but Serena’s weak voice cut across the moment. "Blaine... the wind is so cold. I feel chilled..." I did not stay to watch them lean into each other. Turning away, I headed straight for the Council Hall exit. I had to get to the hospital. I had to make sure my pup was safe. Chapter 3: Fractures at the Manor I rushed out of the office and went straight to the hospital. After what had happened the day before, I had to know whether my pup was all right. Valerie, my best friend, brought her glitter-covered, diamond-studded iPad down on her desk so hard the sound cracked through the room. "Absolute morons," she snapped, her white coat whipping around her legs as she paced. "They don't understand a single thing about what's actually happening." I lifted the tablet, but the brightness stabbed at my eyes before I could even focus. Every feed was drowning in praise for "Alpha Blaine's noble sacrifice." The leading post showed Blaine wheeling Serena out of the office. His head was angled toward her, his eyes soft, his whole face arranged into something warm and protective. And me? I had been reduced to a throwaway line: "the wolfless ex-wife finally remembers her place and steps aside." The comments were worse. "Bless Serena. She's the real Luna. After everything she's suffered, she deserves happiness." "Adeline should've left forever ago. Three years clinging to the Luna title and what did she give the pack? She can't even produce an heir." "Didn't she stall the divorce because she wanted more money? Greedy parasite." "Alpha still hasn't taken the Luna title from Adeline. Probably because Serena is too delicate right now. He must not have had a choice." Each line landed sharp and hot, like a slap I couldn't dodge. "Enough." Valerie plucked the iPad out of my grip and killed the screen. "People get brave when they're hiding behind keyboards. Let them choke on their trash opinions." I lay back on the examination table and fixed my gaze on the fluorescent panel above me. Even with the screen dark, those comments hissed through my skull, poisonous and persistent, eating at whatever pride I had managed to keep. "I'm fine, Valerie," I said, and my own calmness sounded strange to me. "What strangers say doesn't matter. They mean nothing to me." The lie was obvious, even to me. When everyone seemed to be pointing at you, indifference became almost impossible. Valerie watched my face with the caution of someone who knew every crack in it. "Adeline, hear me out. Serena may become Blaine's wife, but she isn't yet. And Blaine still hasn't formally removed you as Luna. If you told him the truth—if you told him about the baby—maybe things would change. His grandmother has always loved you, too." Her grandmother's voice drifted through my memory, gentle and fond: "Adeline, I have never met a kinder soul. Blaine needs a Luna like you." But that belonged to another life. "No." I cut Valerie off before she could say more, the refusal leaving me almost before I decided to speak. "We're divorced. Serena has all of his heart now. I won't raise my child inside a poisoned family." Blaine's words pushed back into my mind before I could stop them: "Even when I was making love to Adeline, it was your name I was whispering in my heart." That sentence had not faded. It was still buried in me like a blade. "He told me he doesn't love me, Valerie. He even said..." My throat closed, and my voice shook despite my effort to steady it. "He said that when he was in bed with me, I wasn't the one in his thoughts." Valerie's expression hardened into fury. "That bastard." "If he learns about this baby, he'll either treat it like an inconvenience or drag me into a custody war just to hand the child to a nanny afterward. This baby belongs with me. With only me." For a few seconds, Valerie said nothing. Then her voice dropped. "So you're leaving?" I had spent the entire night turning that question over until it bruised. Leaving meant severing myself from everything I had built here: the room I had decorated piece by piece, the orphanage I had poured myself into, even the people I had once mistaken for friends. Staying meant accepting humiliation as a daily routine. "I have to." I nodded once, making the decision feel solid. "For my pup, I need to put as much distance between Blaine and me as I can." "Where would you go? Back to your uncle's territory?" Valerie's brow creased. "Adeline, he has never seemed trustworthy. And now that the Silvermount Pack is basically under his control, returning there might put you in even more danger." I didn't answer, because she was right. My uncle had never liked me. If my father's name hadn't still carried weight while he was alive, I would have been forced out of the Silvermount Pack years ago. Now, with everything stripped from me, going back would make me easy prey. Then another face flashed through my thoughts—the man whose presence had felt wild, dangerous, almost beastlike. No. Whatever happened, I would not walk into another Alpha's territory. There was still a second path. Once I left the Alpha Commissioner's residence, I would begin drawing a new map for my life. "Don't worry, Valerie. You know me." I gave her a small smile, hoping it looked steadier than I felt. "I always figure out how to stand up again." Valerie exhaled heavily, then reached for the ultrasound machine. She squeezed a thick ribbon of cold gel onto the probe. "Fine. Lie back. Let's check on your little one." I smiled and settled onto the table. The gel shocked a flinch out of me when the probe slid over my stomach. A grainy black-and-white shape shimmered to life on the monitor. Then a fast, steady heartbeat filled the room. Thump. Thump. Thump. Nothing I had ever heard had been more beautiful. Valerie kept her eyes on the screen. Slowly, the tension left her brows, and a small, professional smile touched her mouth. "Right here, Adeline." She indicated a tiny bright point. "Your pup is developing exactly as it should. And..." She hesitated, then raised the volume a little. "Hear that? That heartbeat is stronger and much faster than a human baby's would be. You've got a healthy little wolf pup in there. Even without wolf traits of your own, Blaine's Alpha blood is clearly dominant." I stared at that small life flickering on the screen until my eyes burned. My child. My blood. My family. Wherever I went, whatever choice came next, this fragile heartbeat would be the reason I kept moving. Valerie put the probe aside and passed me tissues so I could clean the gel from my abdomen. "Adeline, you need to understand what you're choosing," she said, no softness leaving her gaze but all the seriousness returning to it. "You don't have a wolf spirit. Physically, you're an ordinary human woman. Carrying a werewolf baby is going to be hard on your body. It will drain you in ways you can't predict. And raising a wolf pup alone... you don't know yet how difficult that could become." "I'll manage." I pushed myself upright, the tissue crumpling between my fingers. "Not having a wolf doesn't make me helpless." Valerie held my eyes for a long moment. At last, she nodded. "All right. If this is what you choose, then I'll support you—as your friend and as your doctor. But I have one condition. You come in for regular checkups. If your body starts failing under the strain, you listen to me without arguing. And with that awful flu spreading around—" "Agreed." After the examination, we went over the precautions I needed to take during pregnancy. Valerie prescribed vitamins, told me to rest whenever I could, and reminded me again to keep my emotions as steady as possible. When I left the hospital, some of the weight inside me had eased. The baby was healthy. For the moment, that was enough strength to keep breathing, keep planning, keep going. On the drive back to the Alpha Manor, the shape of a plan began forming. I could move into the apartment near the orphanage. A recent flu outbreak had left them short-handed, and they needed help badly. I had lived there before I married Blaine. One month remained for me to put everything in order: find another pack, prepare quietly, and disappear before Blaine even understood I was gone. By the time I parked in the driveway, I drew in a slow breath. This might be one of my final returns as the mistress of this house. The thought hurt in a tender, bitter way, but I had already accepted it. Then I walked into the Alpha Manor, and the sight ahead stopped me cold. The staff were throwing my belongings out of the master bedroom. Blaine had told me Serena would not be taking my room. Yet my clothes, my books, and the hair clip Blaine had once bought for me were scattered across the lawn as if they were garbage. My gaze caught on the clip. It had snapped cleanly in two, crushed beneath an old sweater like it had never mattered. Blaine had picked it up on a whim after an Alpha conference; to him, it had been nothing more than an afterthought. But I had held it for ages that day, foolishly believing it meant he had thought of me, truly thought of me, for the first time. To me, it had been worth more than any jewel. Now it lay broken in the dirt, and all I saw was myself reflected in it—discarded without care. "Why were you at the hospital?" Blaine surged toward me without warning and clamped his hand around my arm. Suspicion, not concern, burned in his eyes. I tried to pull free, but his strength pinned me in place. "We signed the divorce papers, Blaine," I said, my voice going cold. "Focus on your future wife. Don't waste your attention on an Omega who will soon be out of your life." "Oh, Adeline, you're home." Serena rolled her wheelchair closer, her gaze sliding over the mess of my belongings on the grass. False guilt softened her features like a mask. "I'm so sorry. Blaine insisted that I needed a room with better airflow while I recover. You know how stubborn he gets." She spoke as though the Luna title had already settled on her shoulders. Nausea climbed from my stomach into my throat. I flicked one dismissive hand and finally shoved Blaine away. "Don't trouble yourself," I said, ice threading through every word. "I have no intention of staying in the Alpha Residence." I turned to go. Blaine didn't let me. He dragged me into a guest room and slammed me against the wall, caging me there. His eyes had gone feral, rage blazing in them as if he wanted to rip me apart. A violent tremor shot through my body— Chapter 4: The Room Between Us Blaine's POV "What did she just say?" Panic struck through me so sharply that, for one breath, I forgot how to move. Adeline's voice had gone flat and frozen, final in a way that made it feel as though she were already sliding out of my reach. Had she heard what I had told Serena that morning? That had only been mercy. A dying woman needed steadiness; the doctors had said Serena's emotions mattered if she was going to recover. Yet Adeline had looked almost bloodless, and the wild urgency in her need to leave only fed the anger burning in me. Serena had been right. Adeline was probably frightened of losing her position, so now she was trying to make me feel guilty. She was only an Omega—without influence, without money, without leverage. What made her think she could walk away from the pack? My hand locked around her arm. I searched her face, trying to read the thoughts she refused to give me. Why did her feelings matter this much to me? Had I actually started caring for her the way Serena had accused me of doing? No. Impossible. Not now. Not ever. Two hours earlier, while we were driving back, Serena's fingers had settled over my hand. My first instinct had been to withdraw, but I had stopped myself when I saw how weak she looked. "Blaine," Serena had asked, her lashes wet, "are you thinking about Adeline? Or... do you love her?" "Don't say absurd things. Serena, you're the woman I love," I had said, too sharply. "I could never love a selfish, powerless Omega. No one has ever been as brave as you were when you took that attack for me." Something had flashed in Serena's eyes, but I dismissed it before it could mean anything. Then she had breathed out and said, "I think Adeline is just scared she'll lose the life you provide. In time, I'm sure she'll understand why you're doing all of this." Her chest had shuddered as she went on, tears slipping faster. "Besides, I only have six months left. However much you love me now, I can never truly keep you. And Adeline's behavior makes me feel like some horrible villain." "You aren't one." I had brushed the tears from her cheeks. "I'll make her apologize to you." "No, Blaine. Please don't." Serena had caught my arm at once. "You know the only thing that matters to me is where your heart stands." I had bent my voice lower. "Then listen to me. In one month, you will be my wife." After that, exhaustion had claimed her, and she had fallen asleep against me. Looking down at her gentle face, I had felt my fury toward Adeline flare all over again. Why couldn't Adeline accept this with some dignity? I was only asking her to step aside for a while. Six months. That was all. When Serena died peacefully, I would marry Adeline again. I would even give her a wedding grander than the first one to make up for it. She would remain the Luna of the Alpha Manor, still surrounded by comfort, rank, and everything money could offer. Instead of appreciating that, she acted as though I had betrayed her. She knew exactly what our marriage had been from the beginning. Her father had died at the hands of rogue wolves, and her mother had abandoned her afterward, leaving alone without looking back. My grandfather and Adeline's grandfather had been close friends, so Grandfather had ordered me to protect her. Serena had just left me then. When I found Adeline collapsed in grief, fragile as blown glass, I had lifted her from the ground without thinking. "You will be Luna of Briarcliff Pack," I had promised her. "No one will hurt you again." She had sobbed against me until she passed out. Once she woke, we completed the marking ceremony. I had made the terms plain: this was a practical arrangement, nothing more. I needed someone to occupy the position of Luna. Still, she had accepted with almost painful happiness. Every day, she cared for me with obsessive attention. I told her it was unnecessary, but she kept doing it anyway. In bed, she was fire; sometimes all it took was seeing her seated quietly across a room for my body to react. No. I could not let my thoughts keep circling back to Adeline. If she believed she had the right to refuse an Alpha, then I must have encouraged that illusion myself. The car rolled to a halt. Serena raised her tired face toward me, her voice faint and pleading. "Blaine, will you carry me upstairs? I don't think I can hold on much longer." "Of course." I gathered her into my arms, pushed through the manor doors, and caught the first servant I saw. "Which room gets the best airflow?" The servant went pale. "Alpha, the master bedroom has the best ventilation." My frown came immediately. I had promised Adeline I would not force her out of the master bedroom. Then Serena bent forward and coughed blood into her palm. "Serena!" My roar made the servant flinch. "Get a doctor. Now." Serena clutched at me before the servant could move. "No, Blaine. I can't listen to another doctor tell me there is nothing to hope for. You know how many I've already tried. Please." I turned back to the servant, my voice going cold. "Go to the master bedroom. Remove all of Adeline's belongings." Only then did I realize Adeline had not returned yet. Where had she gone? "Where is Luna Adeline?" I demanded. "Luna Adeline went to the hospital," the servant answered. The memory of her bloodless face hit me at once. Was she actually ill? I sent a mind-link to my Beta without delay. "Find out why Adeline went to the hospital." When she came back, I would make one thing clear: I would not keep indulging her willfulness. If she kept acting this way, I would cut off her financial support. My Beta had not even left before Adeline returned to the estate. I strode to the entrance and seized her the moment she came in. "Why were you at the hospital?" She tried to wrench herself free, her teeth clenched. "We just signed the divorce papers. You should be worrying about your future wife, not an Omega who will be out of your life soon enough." "Oh, Adeline, you're home." Serena wheeled herself closer, her eyes landing on the personal items scattered across the floor. Guilt softened her tone. "I'm so sorry. Blaine insisted I needed the room with better ventilation for my recovery. You know how stubborn he is." Adeline did not look at Serena. Her stare stayed fixed on the mess of her belongings. Among them lay a broken hair clip—the one I had once brought back from an Alpha conference. I had barely thought about it at the time. It had not cost much, and it had been easy to buy. But I remembered that night. Adeline had come to me with a passion so fierce anyone would have thought I had given her some priceless jewel worth hundreds of thousands. She was an Alpha's daughter; luxury had not been new to her. Even so, her eyes that day had shone as though I had handed her the most precious thing in existence. I had enjoyed what she gave me that night. The hair clip itself had vanished from my mind afterward. Now, watching the light break in her eyes, I felt something twist. "Don't bother," Adeline said, tearing free of my grip, her voice carved from ice. "I won't be staying in the Alpha Residence anymore." "What are you talking about?" I caught her wrist again. "Is this another tantrum?" The determination in her gaze was the same steel I had seen when she signed the divorce papers. No. I would never let her move out. She was an Omega; outside alone, she could be attacked by rogue wolves at any time. But beneath that excuse lay a thought I did not want to name: if she left now, she might never return. My hand tightened. I dragged her straight to the guest room beside the master bedroom, and before reason could catch up, I shoved her against the wall. A hiss tore from me. She trembled. Rage snapped through my control, and I bit down on her lip. She needed to learn. Adeline's POV Inside the room, I stared at Blaine in stunned disbelief. His familiar scent closed around me, making my head blur, and a moan escaped before I could stop it. Last night, his kisses had burned just like this. But sanity cut through the haze: his first love, his fated mate, was just beyond the door. In a single breath, grief and heartbreak hardened into towering anger. So I sank my teeth into his lower lip. Blood spread across my tongue instantly. "Argh—" Blaine made a low sound of pain, and his hold loosened by reflex. Now. I used every bit of strength I had, lifted my hand, and struck him across the face. Slap! The sound cracked through the empty living room. Blaine's eyes flared wide. A heartbeat later, fury twisted his face, and he reached for me again. "Alpha Blaine," I said, breath dragging out of me, each word forced into place, "why are you doing this? Do you regret divorcing me? Have you fallen in love with me?" He stepped back as if I had thrown filth at him. His smile came cold and cruel. "Do you honestly believe I can't give up your body? My wolf is only reacting to the female he marked. Don't confuse that with love. Love is something you will never get from me." Pain cramped through my stomach, sudden and brutal. He had no idea how merciless those words were. It felt like the man I loved most had taken everything I had felt and declared it worthless. The ground seemed to disappear beneath me. I grabbed the doorknob to keep myself upright, then lifted my head and forced calm onto my face. "Excellent, Alpha Blaine. Your love means nothing to me anyway." The air went rigid. Blaine's eyes reddened. Still, at last, he released me. "Good. Otherwise, I would need to make it even clearer that I don't love you. Not even a little." A black hole opened inside me. Again, I was falling. Hearing Blaine say the truth with his own mouth—that he did not love me—still ripped through me. My knees almost gave way. "May I leave now?" I forced out through my teeth. "Never." Blaine's roar filled the room. "You are staying here. You know what happens to an Omega alone outside. You'll be attacked. Kidnapped. You'll waste the pack's security resources." My heart had already gone numb from hurting. I inhaled slowly and said, "Reject me, and I won't be the pack's responsibility anymore." "I know exactly what you're trying to do." His voice dropped into ice. "You want pack gossip turned against Serena. You want everyone saying she is the villain because you were thrown out of the Alpha Manor while she was sick." All the strength left me. My thoughts emptied. Whatever I did, he would find a way to humiliate me. That was the difference between being loved and being unwanted. My hand moved to my lower abdomen. I had almost said I only meant to move out for a while when Blaine's tone suddenly softened. "The master bedroom is better for Serena's recovery," he said. "I'll have the servants prepare another bedroom for you on the west side of the second floor. It will have the same conditions as the master bedroom." "Fine," I heard myself say. My voice trembled, though I fought to steady it. "But I need to leave now." Red rose in Blaine's eyes again. Before he could erupt, I rushed to explain. "The orphanage has been overwhelmed lately. It's flu season, and the children need someone to care for them. I need to stay at my apartment so it's easier to look after the sick kids." His brow pulled tight. "You don't have to stay there. You can drive back and forth." I shook my head. "No. I'm afraid I'll carry the virus back here. That would be dangerous for Serena's recovery." "Cough... cough, cough..." Serena's familiar, fragile coughing drifted from the other side of the door. She had clearly heard us. "Blaine..." Her weak voice seeped through. "Adeline is right. My immune system is very fragile right now. If I catch the flu, I might..." She let the sentence die, but no explanation was needed. Blaine's face turned unreadable. His gaze shifted from me to Serena beyond the doorway, and I could see him measuring the choice in front of him. "Temporarily," he said at last, each word ground out between his teeth. "Only temporarily. When things at the orphanage settle down, you will come back. That is an order. If you use this as a chance to run, I will hunt you down myself. Remember who you are, Adeline. You belong to Briarcliff Pack forever." I gave him no answer. A month could change many things. And Blaine still did not know that I owned a gallery where Alpha councils were often hosted. With that opening, I could look for a pack that truly fit me. I lifted my luggage from the floor and drove toward the apartment near the orphanage. Chapter 5: Quiet Replacements Serena's POV Adeline had left. I kept my eyes on Blaine while he stood there with his fingers pressed to his split, bleeding mouth. My pulse hammered so hard it seemed to shake my ribs. Yes, I had heard them. All of it. Every ugly, breathless word. Blaine had kissed her. He had pushed himself on her. And now the thought would not leave me alone—if I had not painted myself as a woman half a step from the grave, would he have come back to me at all? Would he have accepted this ridiculous marriage arrangement, even with its six-month limit? No. He never would have. The truth sat right in front of me, impossible to ignore. Adeline mattered to him. She was not a substitute he had grabbed because he was lonely, not some pretty distraction to pass the time. That woman had spent three years cutting her initials into a heart I used to believe no one could enter. Even after he spat those vicious things at her, his body betrayed him. My fingers tightened around the arms of the wheelchair until my knuckles ached. Leaving Blaine back then had been the stupidest decision of my life. Worse than that, though? I had not even been the one who saved him that night. Not really. Some unknown she-wolf had appeared, pulled him from danger, and vanished before anyone could ask her name. I had simply been there when his eyes opened. So he believed I was his savior. The entire Briarcliff Pack believed it with him. Naturally, I did not correct them. I had been his girlfriend. Who else would they expect to find at his side? Then I lied again. I told him my wolf had disappeared, that she had been taken from me. I wanted his guilt. I needed it. With that guilt wrapped around him, the plan I had carried for so long could finally begin. I had never wanted to bury my whole life inside a pack as Luna. I wanted distance. Cities. Countries. A life that stretched farther than pack borders and ceremonies. Maybe, somewhere out there, I would meet a man better than Blaine. I had believed I deserved that. So I walked away. To make the lie believable, I found a hospital that treated more than humans. Wolves, witches, other species—the place knew how to keep secrets. One witch sealed my wolf for me, and after that, I arranged a full medical record to support the story. For a while, I tried everything I thought I wanted. Human men. Male wolves. Freedom. None of them measured up to Blaine. When news reached me that Blaine had bonded, I did not panic. It changed nothing. The moment I came to him and made my request, he did not make me beg. He said yes at once. I will not deny it—when he agreed, my heart lifted. I loved him. In that instant, I knew I still did. But days later, I saw what I had not wanted to see. Blaine had returned to me, yes. Happiness had not come with him. That was when understanding struck like cold water. Blaine was not the same man I had left behind. Some part of his heart, some hidden corner of his thoughts, had already shifted away from me. He looked as if he had fallen for Adeline without even realizing it. I could not allow that. Before he understood his own feelings, I had to take back what belonged to me. His attention. His devotion. His heart, completely. I had already studied Adeline from every possible angle. I knew her background, her habits, her weaknesses. She had no wolf, true, but she had been born an Alpha's daughter. Royal enough, once. Now her father was gone, and that old title carried no real power. Still, I had to admit she had earned praise while she served as Luna. She was not one of those useless women who knew only how to smile and arrange flowers. She was capable. Too capable. That made her dangerous. But danger could be erased. And I would erase every mark she had left behind. I drew in a long, careful breath and forced the turbulence inside me to settle. Then I guided my wheelchair closer to Blaine. When I reached for him, I let my hand shake just enough before my fingertips brushed the wound on his lip. "Blaine," I whispered, soft enough to sound afraid. "Did she hurt you?" His gaze cleared a little, as though I had dragged him back from wherever his mind had gone. The darkness in his face remained, but the wild edge in his eyes dulled. "She's completely lost it," he said, the words scraping through his teeth. "Please don't talk about her that way." I lowered my eyes. "She's in pain. No female wolf could calmly watch her mate being shared. This is because of me. I should never have returned and ruined things between you." His jaw flexed. The anger that had sharpened his expression began to loosen, replaced by something heavier. Guilt, yes. But not only guilt. Something I could not name, and did not like. "Serena, no." He crouched in front of me until his eyes were level with mine. His voice had softened in an instant. "None of this is on you. I made you a promise. You deserve this. Don't put the blame on yourself." Relief slipped through me, small but sweet. For the moment, Blaine's heart seemed to tilt toward me again. "Lunch is ready, Alpha Blaine, Ms. Serena," a servant announced with a respectful bow, breaking the silence between us. Blaine stood. Without pausing, he moved behind my chair and began wheeling me toward the dining room, as if caring for me had always been his most natural instinct. "You're hungry," he said. It was not a question. "You should eat." I let myself enjoy it. Sunlight poured through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows and spread across the spotless dining table in pale gold. For one fragile moment, the room felt like the past had opened its doors for us. Just Blaine and me again. Before the lies became complicated. Before Adeline. Servants set down the dishes one after another. The scent of creamy mushroom soup rose first, warm and familiar, tugging a memory loose before I could stop it. "I remember, this used to be—" "What is this?" Blaine's voice cut clean through mine. The temperature in the room seemed to drop. His eyes fixed on the bowl as if someone had placed poison in front of him. A hard crease formed between his brows. "Didn't I already make myself clear? I said not to serve this again." Then his attention moved to the steak beside it, and his expression darkened further. "And this? Medium? Are you trying to wreck my stomach?" The servant went rigid. In the next second, their head dipped low, and fear shook their voice. "I'm terribly sorry, Alpha. I'll remove it immediately. It's only that... Luna used to prepare all of your meals personally, and she said—" "She said what?" Blaine asked, his tone changing so suddenly that even I noticed it. The servant swallowed. "Ma'am... Luna said your stomach cannot tolerate heavy food well, especially after long patrols. That was why she changed your diet three years ago. She has been cooking your steak medium-well herself because she said that was best for you." A tightness clamped around my chest. Adeline had even altered the way he ate. "Cough... cough, cough..." I forced the coughs out at just the right moment, sharp enough to pull him back to me. "Serena!" Blaine turned at once, alarm flashing across his face. He bent toward me and patted my back with nervous care. "Are you all right?" I shook my head faintly and leaned into him while pretending to catch my breath. Only after the coughing eased did I lift my face, pale and fragile, and look at him with all the gentleness I could summon. "Don't scold them, Blaine. They're only trying to look after you." I waited, then shaped a small, tired smile. "From now on... let me cook for you. You always loved the sandwiches I made for you back then." His body stilled. "No," he said at once. "Your health—" "The doctor said light activity would be good for me," I cut in before he could refuse properly. "And I can't stand thinking of you skipping meals because nothing tastes right. If I cook for you, Blaine, it will make me happy. It will make me feel... as if I can still be useful." He looked at me then, and the guilt in his eyes softened into tenderness so thick it was almost too easy. "Serena..." After a long breath, he reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "You're too kind." I gave him a warm smile. Inside, I laughed. If I wanted to replace Adeline, I could begin with what touched him every day. His meals. His routines. The quiet places she had claimed without permission. "Oh, Blaine," I added, as though the thought had only just occurred to me. I let a flicker of excitement brighten my eyes. "There is one small thing I wanted to discuss with you. The Moonstone Salon is coming soon, and I was hoping I might display a few of my paintings there." The Moonstone Salon carried real weight among the wolf packs. A place there would not simply show my art. It would show me. If my work appeared at an event of that standing, my position would rise with it. He looked surprised, so I continued before he could question me too closely. "I want to do something that matters for you and for the Briarcliff Pack. And if... if any of the paintings happen to sell, I would like every bit of the money to go to the pack orphanage." Emotion gathered in Blaine's face, deepening until it seemed ready to spill over. "Of course," he said immediately. His voice turned gentle, and his smile followed. "Of course, Serena. I'll ask my Beta to arrange the best location for your work. Whatever you need, I'll make it happen." Exactly. Just as I had planned. I rested against him, quiet and content on the outside, while inside my mind assembled the next pieces one by one. Chapter 6: The Envelope of Truth Adeline's POV The moment I left the Alpha Manor behind, I drove to the apartment I had bought before I ever became Blaine's wife. He knew it existed, of course, but he had never once crossed its threshold. It had no manicured gardens, no glittering chandeliers, no servants drifting in and out like shadows. There were only two modest rooms, a living space, and a small kitchen with a window facing the city's blur of neon. Still, every inch belonged to me. For once, I didn't have to plan a meal around Blaine's appetite. I dropped onto the soft couch and let my lungs expand, as if ...

🥳 Jour 1 - Le changement commence 💃 Jour 2 - La vitesse du métabolisme augmente 😇 Jour 3 - Meilleure humeur, sommeil amélioré 🤯 Jour 4 - Moins de stress, plus de confiance 💅 Jour 5 - Gère les envies de nourriture 🌊 Jour 6 - Vois des résultats visibles en 2 semaines !