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2,587,346	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2587345}'	Yes	2024-12-04 20:33	active	1960	🔞Attention! Do not read in public！👉	At Grace Mansion, Carissa Sinclair stared at the man before her—her husband she had waited for a whole year. Barrett Warren, still in his battle armor, wore an expression of both determination and guilt. "Carissa, the king has issued a royal edict for my marriage with Aurora. She will be joining our household. There's no question about it," said Barrett. Carissa's eyes clouded with confusion. "The queen dowager has praised General Yates as a model for all women in the kingdom. Would she be willing to be a concubine?" Barrett's eyes flashed with a hint of annoyance. "No, she won’t be a concubine. She’ll be my legal wife, equal to you." "But calling her equal doesn't change the fact that she’s still just a concubine," Carissa said, a soft smile playing on her lips. Barrett frowned. "Why can't you face the reality? Aurora and I fell in love with each other on the battlefield, and we earned this marriage with our glorified victory. In fact, I don’t really need your approval on it." Carissa smiled mockingly. "Fell in love, huh? Have you forgot what you promised me before you left for war?" On their wedding night a year ago, Barrett was called away to lead reinforcements on an expedition. Before he left, he lifted his wife’s veil and vowed, "Carrisa Sinclair, you're the only woman I'll ever love in my life. I will never take a concubine!" Embarrassed, Barrett avoided her eye contact. "Just forget what I said. Back then, I only considered you a suitable match for a wife. I knew nothing about love until I met Rory." When he spoke of the woman he loved, his eyes softened with deep affection. Turning back to Carissa, he added, "She’s unlike any woman I’ve ever met. I love her deeply, and I hope you'll be generous enough to welcome her." Carissa felt a lump in her throat. Despite her disgust and reluctance, she asked, "What about your parents? Do they agree?" "They do. It was a royal edict, and mother liked her a lot upon seeing her." They agreed? Huh... How ironic! Seems like everything Carissa had done for this household had all been for nothing. "Is she currently in the mansion?" Carissa asked, lifting a brow. Barrett carried a softness in his voice, "Yes, she’s talking to my mother and making her very happy. Even mother's health seems to be improving." "Improving?" Carissa felt a whirlwind of emotions. "When you went to war, your mother was already gravely ill. I brought in the best physician, managed the estate’s affairs by day, and stayed up nights caring for her. That's how her condition started to improve." Carissa wasn’t seeking praise. She was just laying out the facts of her exhausting year. "But seeing Aurora has made my mother feel even better," Barrett said earnestly. "I know this is unfair to you, but for the greater good, please support Aurora and me." Carissa lowered her eyes, as if blinking away the tears. But inspected closely, that's actually her sharpened gaze. "Invite General Yates over. I have a few things to ask her." "There's no need," Barrett refused instantly. "Carissa, she’s different from any woman you know. As a general, she’s above household squabbles and wouldn’t want to meet you." Carissa retorted, "What are women I know like? Or tell me, what kind of woman am I to you? Have you forgotten? I'm also the daughter of the Marquis's family. My father and my six brothers sacrificed on the Southern Frontier three years ago-" "That’s them," Barrett interrupted. "you're still a delicate woman suited only for home comforts, while Aurora has no respect for that. Besides, she never holds back her true thoughts. Trust me, you won't want to hear it from her." As Carissa looked up, the striking beauty mark under her eye became more evident in the light. Calmly, she said, "It’s fine. If she says anything unpleasant, I’ll ignore it. A true matriarch must understand the bigger picture and act with dignity. Don’t you trust me?" Barrett sighed in frustration. “Why put yourself through this? The king has approved this marriage, and Aurora will never threaten your control of the household. Carissa, she couldn't care less about those things.” “Oh, you think that's what I fear? Losing the control of this household?” Carissa countered. Little did Barrett know his household had been reduced to a hollow shell - managing it was a hot potato no one else would bear. Over the past year, it was Carissa's dowry alone that kept the Warren family’s life respectable, and this was her reward. “Enough,” Barrett snapped, his patience running thin. “I’ve done my duty by informing you. Your opinion won’t change anything.” As Carissa watched hum storm out, her bitterness deepened. “My lady, my lord has really crossed the line!” Lulu, Carissa’s maid, said, wiping her tears. “Don’t call him that!” Carissa gave her a stern look. “We never consummated the marriage. He’s not your lord. Now go fetch my dowry list.” “Why the dowry list?” Lulu asked, puzzled. Carissa tapped her on the forehead. “Silly girl, we need to reckon everything before we leave.” Lulu gasped. “Leave? But where can we go? To the Northwatch Estate?” Suddenly Lulu held her tongue, aware that she had touched the sensitive subject. She spared Carissa a guilty look, "I'll get the list now, my lady." Upon the mention of Northwatch Estate, the always restrained Carissa finally let her tears fall. When she was fifteen, her father, the Marquis of Northwatch, had sacrificed his life on the battlefield. Then, just six months ago, her entire family at the Northwatch Estate was brutally slaughtered — assassins rumored to be spies from the enemy nation, Westhaven. She rushed back after getting the news, only to find the dismembered bodies of her mother and grandmother. Even her youngest nephew, two years old, didn't escape death, neither. Now, she was the lone survivor of the marquis' family, the idea of restoring her family’s former glory seemed impossible—at least to outsiders. After all, she was presented mostly as a delicate, fragile woman, while Aurora Taytes had just made herself the first female general in history. It's only natural that the Warren family was more than happy to agree to the marriage. Yet, unbeknownst to the world, Carissa's martial talent was never beneath her father and brothers. If given a chance on the battlefield, she would definitely outshine Aurora Taytes, perhaps a million times more... Just then, Lulu had brought over the dowry list, "My lady, this year alone, you've spent over six thousand silver coins supporting the household. However, the shops, houses, and estates remain untouched. All the bank savings, along with the property deeds and land titles your mother left, are locked up in the chest." "I see." Carissa's gaze lingered on the list with melancholy. Her mother had given her such a substantial dowry, fearing she might face hardship in her husband's home. Yet now here she was. The Warren family had disregarded all her effort, and Barrett had even broken his vow to take no concubine - the very promise that led her mother to choose him over more eligible suitors, despite the Warren family’s fall from grace. 'Was this really the life mother wanted for me?' Soon, Carissa lifted her gaze, determination tightening her grip on the dowry list, “Lulu, make preparations. We’re going to see His Majesty tomorrow.” Lulu’s brow furrowed, as if knowing Carissa's purpose, “But, my lady, I don’t think His Majesty will revoke his edict—” Carissa shook her head, “No, Lulu, I’m not asking him to change the edict, but to request a new one—an amicable divorce from Barrett.” Lulu’s eyes widened that instant, “A divorce! My lady, you want a divorce?” Carissa nodded firmly. She was never someone to pester some man. If Barrett Warren loved Aurora Yates so much, then she would let him go. What she needed now was a single edict for an amicable divorce, so she could take away all her dowry and get rid of the despicable Warren family for good, dignified and head high...	LEARN_MORE	https://shgjfh.com/market/meganovel/13?lpid=13831&	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61559743679549/	323	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	shgjfh.com	DCO		https://shgjfh.com/market/meganovel/13?lpid=13831&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}&placement={{placement}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/464975882_1204712524149205_7926569809786181278_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=104&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=6uUfVOrci44Q7kNvgFVfNMR&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AZzsQcrUadD0Zm5EPMx-xIb&oh=00_AYBIfdaI1Hu-YiR8fJSRM_4CBlZm75MbvyXUJwERGlBHqw&oe=6756C5C3	PERSON_PROFILE	0	0	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,588,494	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2588493}'	Yes	2024-12-04 20:33	active	1960			VIEW_INSTAGRAM_PROFILE	https://www.instagram.com/_u/xankillboy	XanKillboy	https://www.facebook.com/100048941034334/	459	1969-12-31 18:00	Visit Instagram Profile	instagram.com	CAROUSEL		https://www.instagram.com/_u/xankillboy	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/469327042_409942888751036_7796282708441884111_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=109&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=TkU0EGYG3JgQ7kNvgGc3D2h&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AS-cewEnLnU-hqPBdBPNMx_&oh=00_AYASZnSlxIqDaeVx4AYHOBAb5Vx3gaOgZgH4Svq-K_ArbA&oe=6756DF0B	PERSON_PROFILE	0	0	XanKillboy	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,586,346	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2586284}'	No	2024-12-04 20:33	active	1960	😍Read the next chapters👉	It was actually very obvious whether a man loved a woman or not. Angela Graham knew it very well. For example, Dexter Bamford could spend a fortune buying out all the billboards in the central business district to celebrate the birthday of his first love, Elena Carrey. He did so that the whole city would be able to tell his sincerity toward her. But for Angela's birthday, all she got was just a small, six-inch cake. In fact, it was the very same cake the nanny had gotten on her birthday. Angela chuckled when she saw the cake. It made sense, after all. Although she was Dexter's legally wedded wife, the actual Mrs. Bamford, her job scope wasn't much different from the nanny's anyway. The only extra task she had was sleeping with Dexter. Angela felt tears well in her eyes when she thought about this. The loneliness in her eyes stood out like a sore thumb amid the noisy surroundings of the party. Dexter had been late to the party as always. Actually, he had planned on staying at the banquet hall for a while longer, but he had received a message just then. He opened up the message, not bothering to hide anything from Angela. It was as if her feelings weren't even worth considering at any point. "It kinda hurts… Can you come over?" Along with the message was a photo of a woman's bare back, decorated all over with love bites, as if she had just finished rolling in the sheets with her lover a few minutes ago. It was very suggestive. Angela couldn't even describe what she was feeling anymore. She just felt the discomfort in her stomach start to intensify. She knew the person who had sent Dexter the messages. It was his secretary, Erica Carrey, Elena's younger sister. She had just never imagined that Erica was also one of Dexter's bed partners. Angela stared at Dexter's phone for a long time. It wasn't until Dexter addressed her that she finally snapped back to her senses. "Done staring?" Angela raised her head, her gaze meeting Dexter's dark eyes. Dexter's facial features were partially hidden in the shadows under the dim light. He exuded a cold and aloof air as he threw Angela another glance and nonchalantly slipped the phone back into his pocket. He didn't seem the least bit hurried or anxious at all, and he certainly wasn't remorseful that his wife had found out about his affair. He didn't even care whether Angela would throw a fuss about it. Meanwhile, Angela simply lowered her head like a guilty child who had just done something wrong. She shifted her gaze at once. She just simply couldn't hold this against him. After all, following what had happened the last time, her father, Bill Graham, had remarried, and Angela didn't have any support from her maternal family. They no longer wanted to have anything to do with her. Her mother, Marie Jetson, used to own a company called Jetson Co., but Bill had completely taken over the company. He had also long forgotten his promise to Marie and abandoned Angela for the sake of his new wife, Judy Miller, and her son, Zack Graham. Angela had nothing left aside from the title of Mrs. Bamford. She was just Dexter's trophy wife. She knew that she had no right to question Dexter, the head of the household who provided for her. It didn't matter that she used to be a very famous designer in the industry. Just as Dexter was about to leave, Angela tugged on the corner of his shirt and said, "Dexter, can you come home earlier today? I've got something to tell you." Dexter looked at her with a half-smile and suddenly came close to her. He chuckled in her ear and said, "What, tonight? Someone's eager today. I'm taking this as an invitation." Angela shuddered suddenly. Dexter had never gone easy on her in bed. However, the people around them couldn't help teasing them watching their interaction. They joked that Dexter and Angela kept behaving like newlyweds in their honeymoon phase with how often they stuck to each other like glue. Still, Angela knew that this so-called intimacy was only a show. Dexter had never viewed her as his equal. To him, she was nothing but a decoration item that he owned. He had been forced to marry her, so she was a liability to him. He also thought it was all a ruse to curry favor with him. Without giving Angela a chance to answer, Dexter nodded at the rest of the guests and left the place. … That night, Dexter got home even later than usual. Angela glanced at the clock and saw that it was close to dawn. She sat in the living room as she waited for him. When she saw him enter the house, she got up and approached him. As she took his coat from him, she thought it vaguely smelled like peaches. Obviously, this scent didn't belong to her. She held the coat closer and took another sniff. "Dexter—" Just as she started to speak, she was immediately interrupted. However, it was obvious that Dexter misunderstood her. "What's up? Why are you sniffing like a dog?" He said it nonchalantly, as if reminding Angela about her position in this marriage. She was Mrs. Bamford, a nanny who should always turn a blind eye to Dexter's tomfoolery, serve him food, and satisfy him in bed whenever he wanted. She was not to bother about anything else that didn't concern her. "Whatever you have to say, you can wait until I've showered," Dexter said, walking around Angela as he left. A short while later, Dexter emerged from the bathroom with a head of messy hair. His bathrobe hung loosely on his shoulders, revealing his toned abs and sexy V-line. Angela hurriedly stood up from the couch and didn't dare to look up at him. It had been so many years, and Dexter still managed to hypnotize her like this every time. When they had been in high school, she had accidentally bumped into his table, knocking his textbook off to the ground. From the moment he had smiled at her and told her it was okay, with the sun shining in the back, Angela had fallen for him, hook, line, and sinker. But she then recalled the phone call she had received from Judy that afternoon, saying that Zack had racked up a huge debt from his gambling addiction. Apparently, they had no choice but to put a mortgage on the house Marie had left for Angela to repay his debts. That house had belonged to Marie all along and had nothing to do with them! How could they have done such a thing? Angela gritted her teeth and said, "Dexter, I'd like to participate in the international design competition this year." The prize money was well worth up to eight figures. Angela wanted to use the money to redeem her mother's house. "You waited for so long just to ask me this? Aren't you a little too free now, Mrs. Bamford?" Dexter asked, curling his lips up in a smirk. "You're not suited to reveal your face in public." Angela grabbed Dexter's arm anxiously and said, "I'm not revealing my face to the public. I won't let other people know that I'm Mrs. Bamford." Dexter had long lost his patience. He looked at her mockingly and said, "And why should I believe you?" Exactly. Why should he believe her? The coffee Bill had prepared for Dexter back then had been drugged. Angela had known nothing about it, but they hadn't been able to trust each other for years because she had been the one who had given it to Dexter. Angela released her hold on Dexter's arm. If she didn't participate in the competition, then how else could she get so much money? Suddenly, a huge force swept Angela off her feet. She found herself falling against a cold, steely chest. Dexter's icy voice sounded from behind her. "Giving up so soon? Actually, if you perform well tonight, I can perhaps think about it." "Perform what?" "What do you think?" Dexter suddenly blew in Angela's ear, getting her in the mood. As usual, the lobes of Angela's ears turned a bright red color. Dexter felt aroused all of a sudden. He hugged her tightly from the back and leaned in to kiss her earlobes. Yet, Angela suddenly felt annoyed. Dexter often acted on his primal instincts. He was the only one who had a say in whether they would be having that night or not. Hadn't he just come back from someone else's bed that night? That woman didn't satisfy him? Before Angela could push him away, Dexter's phone suddenly started ringing loudly, ruining the mood. He went to answer the phone. The sound of a woman sobbing could be heard on the other end of the line. Chapter 2 Dexter glanced up at Angela before speaking gently into the phone. "What's the matter? Don't cry." Angela watched as Dexter changed into his outdoor clothes and left for the second time, for some other woman and that too, on her birthday. Her eyes stung with tears. She didn't feel sleepy anymore after Dexter left. Thinking she would get a book or two to read, Angela headed into the study and happened to see a contract. The contract was placed right in the center of the table, as if anyone was welcome to take a look at it. It was a contract between Dexter and Elena, his first love. Angela couldn't believe that they were still in contact with each other. The contract was very thick. It had started when Angela had first gotten married to Dexter, spanning five years. Angela's hand shook. The more she read, the more shocking it was for her. The latest date was actually last night. As it turned out, everything that Dexter had done for her, whether a celebration or an anniversary date, had been meticulously planned out by Elena. That explained everything! No wonder Dexter had been so gracious to set off a fireworks display just for her when she had made a fuss about him and Elena. The fireworks display had been a grand show of colors, lighting up the night with the words "LOVE YOU", the very two words Angela had been wanting to hear from Dexter since forever. She had felt so touched then. She could still remember how elated she had felt when she had seen the two words in the sky. But now, after reading this contract, she finally understood that the fireworks display she had been so proud of had been nothing but another one of Dexter's tactics to toy with her emotions. And yet, she had naively thought that maybe he did have a place for her in his heart after all. Angela closed her eyes. She had never felt such despair like she did today. She was going to have to divorce him. … Dexter didn't return for the rest of the night. The next morning, Erica called, telling Angela to bring Dexter's tie and cufflinks to the company. She told Angela to hurry up since Dexter had an important meeting that day. Angela packed the things and headed over to Bamford Co. However, as always, she was stopped by the receptionist. "Good morning, miss. Do you have an appointment today?" Angela could already recite their next conversation with her eyes closed. "None." "I'm sorry, but you can't go up without an appointment." It didn't matter if Angela proved that she was Dexter's wife. "We're sorry, but we didn't receive any orders, so we can't let you up. It's the same for everyone else." In fact, if Erica were there, she would also mock Angela and say, "Oh, I'm sorry, but Mr. Bamford is the one who sets the rules here." So, this time, Angela didn't give them a chance to humiliate her anymore. She said, "I do, but my appointment is with Ms. Carrey. Please call her and ask her to come down." The receptionist stared at Angela for a brief while before calling Erica. Erica appeared very quickly. "Did you bring the things, Ms. Graham?" She never called Angela "Mrs. Bamford" in front of other people. She was also somewhat dismissive of her, talking to her as if she were just talking to a delivery man. In the past, Angela would always treat Erica with the utmost respect because of her status and position. But now, she was already planning to leave Dexter. "I did. Where's Dexter?" "Mr. Bamford is very busy. You can just hand me the things without having to wait for him. He won't show up anyway," Erica said condescendingly. Angela sighed in relief. She lifted a corner of her lips in a smirk and passed the items to Erica. "Okay. I'll pass you his things. I just thought of telling him that next time, it would perhaps be more appropriate for him to get his driver to send these things to him. "Also," Angela added, giving Erica the once-over. "As his secretary, isn't it your job to make sure that you have at least a few sets of his neckties and cufflinks as a spare? Aren't you being a little incompetent since you don't even have any extra sets for him?" With that, Angela walked away. She couldn't be bothered to argue with a mistress and teach the latter to mind her position. Dexter only caught sight of Angela's back as she left when he came out of the door. He looked at Erica and asked in confusion, "She left?" Erica opened her mouth to say something but decided against it. She didn't know what was wrong with Angela today. Usually, Angela would always beg to stay at the company, and Dexter would always appear when she was arguing with Erica. But it was somehow different today. It was as if Angela was a completely different person altogether. At the very least, she didn't stay back to wait to catch a glimpse of Dexter anymore. Erica frowned. "Yes. She left without saying anything else." Dexter found it strange. He felt a little frustrated too. "Don't bother about her. Hurry up and get to the meeting." The meeting lasted the whole day. It was already evening by the time it ended. Dexter got into his black Luxury car and went straight home to the villa. His driver, Chet Sanders, cut the engine and hurriedly got around the car to open the door for Dexter. As soon as Dexter got out, the maids came out to greet him. "You're back, sir! Madam has been in her room all day and refuses to eat anything. We're not sure if anything's wrong with her." When he heard this, Dexter was stunned for a moment. His eyes turned dark with emotion. Angela must be jealous. She probably didn't like that he had left last night, and she was throwing a fuss because she felt threatened. Dexter went upstairs, jeering at her in his heart. He saw Angela folding her clothes in front of the wardrobe when he stepped into their bedroom. He reached up to loosen his tie, leaning against the side as he openly eyed her from top to bottom. This was Angela, his wife. Aside from that pretty face of hers, she was absolutely useless to him. Come to think of it, she was pretty good with doing chores around the house. She was even better than the nanny at it. Angela didn't make a sound. Seeing that she wasn't saying anything, Dexter didn't feel like questioning her either. He just went to change out of his work clothes. He thought that by the time he was done changing, knowing Angela's temperament, her anger toward him would have already dissipated by then. She would then pour him a drink and gently ask him if he'd had dinner. She would always pretend as if nothing bad had ever happened. So, when Dexter noticed a suitcase at the door after he was done changing his clothes, he stared at it in surprise. "Are you going out?" Dexter asked, frowning slightly. Angela packed up the last of her belongings and raised her head to meet Dexter's gaze. Dexter's eyes were deep, and he exuded an air of elegance. It was still just as Angela remembered him from when she had first met him. He was a brightly shining star, and she simply couldn't take her eyes away off of him. However, as time passed, Dexter had only seemed to hate her even more. Angela stared at him silently for a long time. She stared at him for so long that her eyes began to feel dry, and they slightly welled up with tears. She then took a deep breath and said slowly, "Dexter Bamford, let's get a divorce." Chapter 3 Dexter could hardly believe what he had just heard. Throughout his marriage with Angela, he had only ever seen a submissive and hopeful look in her eyes. He knew she feared losing him. The term "divorce" was probably the thing she had feared hearing the most in the past three years. But now, she had uttered it so casually. When Dexter had seen Angela's retreating back at the office this morning, he had already felt annoyed. That emotion resurfaced again. Dexter questioned in a cold voice, "What? Are you upset because I didn't accompany you yesterday? Or is it because I refused to let you participate in that ridiculous competition? "Angela, are you out of your mind? You cried and begged to be Mrs. Bamford. You live in a villa and have luxury cars to drive you around. I even propped up your failing family. What more could you possibly be dissatisfied with?" The disdain and contempt in his words made Angela feel a chill run down her spine. She should have known better. She couldn't hold back anymore. She retorted loudly, almost shouting, "Mrs. Bamford? So what if I'm Mrs. Bamford? Have you ever seen a rich man's wife as pathetic as I am?" She stormed into the study, grabbed a bulky contract, and threw it in front of Dexter forcefully. "You should know what this is better than I do! I'm expected to keep up appearances in front of your family. But when I come home, even the household staff can show me attitude! "What kind of wife spends her birthday being yet another portfolio addition to a fireworks designer and is given the very same six-inch birthday cake that was given to the nanny? "While it is true that I got to become Mrs. Bamford because of my family's plotting, I don't want it anymore! Do you have a problem with that?" Dexter found this side of Angela unfamiliar. At the same time, he thought she was being ridiculous. "Do you think you can just get into this marriage and end it as you wish? You'd be too naïve to think so!" He raised an eyebrow mockingly. "Do you think you can come and go as you please in the Bamford family? What about the debt you and your family owe me?" "Whatever the Graham family owes you, go to them. What do I owe you, Dexter? I don't owe you a thing! Even if I did, three years of warming your bed should have been enough to repay it!" Angela countered. She didn't want to argue with Dexter anymore. So, she picked up her only suitcase and turned to leave. After three years of being Mrs. Bamford, all her belongings didn't even fill a small suitcase—this was proof of the miserable life she had been leading. As she approached the staircase, a strong grip pulled her back. Dexter's expression was stormy as he gripped her chin and forced her to look up at him. "Warming my bed? Is that how you see yourself? Ha! It seems I've overestimated you. You don't even know how to be proactive in bed or please me. Shall I give you a chance to demonstrate what you're capable of now?" Angela's eyes widened in disbelief as the dull pain radiated from her chin. Out of reflex and in retaliation, she slapped Dexter. As her hand landed on his face, a loud slap echoed in the enclosed space. The air around them seemed to freeze at that moment. A surge of anger shot up in Dexter's heart. In the next second, Angela felt the world spinning around her as Dexter picked her up and threw her onto the bed. His expression was terrifying, and he exuded an imposing air. Pinning Angela down, Dexter placed his hands on either side of her head. She felt his heavy breaths on her face. They were mere inches apart. Angela tensed up upon sensing the looming danger. As she stared at the vivid handprint on his face, she couldn't help but cower a little. Dexter bit down on the side of her neck and spoke unkind words in the most intimate way possible. "You're making a scene because you're jealous. Are you that bothered about Elena? Isn't pretending your specialty? What? Can't keep it up now?" The mention Elena struck a nerve with Angela. She swallowed down the nervousness from slapping him earlier and tried to push Dexter away impatiently. This was the first time Angela had shown refusal, or it could also be that Dexter was simply too used to their physical contact. Either way, Angela's actions ignited his desire, and he suddenly felt aroused. Angela had always had an alluring figure; she had beautiful curves in all the right places. Though she was passive in bed, they actually got along very well physically. Dexter brushed a few strands of stray hair off her forehead, his gaze darkening. He then leaned in, his lips lingering over hers. One of his hands moved to grip her soft waist. Angela came to her senses and realized what Dexter was about to do. Usually, she found it hard to refuse him when he was this forceful. But now that she intended to divorce him, this forced intimacy was uncalled for. "No, Dexter! Stop…" Angela was unaware of the impact that her soft, moaning tone had on a man. There was even a hint of a sob in her meek protest. Angela cursed herself for being so weak. All it took was a light kiss from Dexter, and what was supposed to be a firm rejection sounded like she was playing hard-to-get instead. Well, Dexter was into this. His wandering hand trailed lower as his lips brushed over her earlobe. "Isn't it too early to ask me to stop now? It always takes a few rounds before you start begging for mercy." Angela's face turned red with embarrassment, and she had a flustered look in her eyes. Even if Dexter didn't want to admit it, he was indeed aroused when he held her intoxicating body in his arms so closely. Just as he was about to tear her clothes away, she reached out and stopped him. Angela asked through ragged breaths, "There are no more protective measure. Are you sure about this?" Dexter paused, and reason took over. He realized that he wasn't that desperate to bed her. After all, having a child with Angela wasn't part of his current plans. Nevertheless, he felt reluctant to let go of her when the mood was just right. He raised an eyebrow and questioned, "Are you threatening me?" "No, I'm simply stating a fact." Angela stubbornly looked up at him, standing her ground. At that moment, something snapped in Dexter, and he found the face staring back at him incredibly infuriating. "You could just take a pill!" he growled, disregarding her objections. Angela's face was wet with tears. Once again, she saw her true worth in Dexter's eyes. Even calling her a bed partner would be too generous. A bed partner had the right to say "no", but she didn't even have the right to refuse. The abrupt ringing of Dexter's phone interrupted their imminent intimacy. He casually picked up his phone, not really concerned at first. But upon seeing who was calling, he quickly lifted himself off Angela. Chapter 4 Dexter cleared his throat with a light cough before pressing the answer button. "Yes, Grandpa?" The robust voice of an old man came from the other end. "Dexter, I may be sick, but I'm not dead. Did you even know it was Angie's birthday yesterday?" Upon hearing this, Dexter glanced at Angela before speaking politely into the phone. "Of course I knew it was her birthday yesterday. I even organized a grand celebration for her." "Hmph! Don't try to fool me!" Joseph Bamford scolded. The next moment, there was the sound of Joseph angrily handing the phone over to his butler, Gary Butler. Gary took over the call and spoke respectfully to Dexter. "Mr. Bamford Jr., Mr. Bamford Sr. has been feeling some discomfort in his chest over the past couple of days. If you have the time, bring your wife along to visit him at Bamford Manor. Mr. Bamford Sr. might not say it, but he probably misses the pasta she makes." Dexter remained silent for a moment before agreeing. "I'll bring her over shortly, Mr. Butler." After hanging up, Dexter calmly adjusted his cuffs and asked in a seemingly casual tone, "Didn't you post any birthday photos yesterday?" With just that question, Angela understood what he meant—the lack of photos had caused Joseph to worry. "Grandpa isn't well, and he's getting on in years. Whatever you may be thinking, keep it to yourself in front of him. Understood?" Dexter warned. Angela nodded wordlessly and got up to get dressed. Joseph was the only one in the Bamford family who had ever truly treated her well. When she had been ten, Marie had end life saving Joseph. After that, Bill had gotten married again, and Judy had become her stepmother. Bill had used this debt of gratitude to secure Angela a foothold in the Bamford family. Feeling sympathy for her and having always liked Angela, Joseph had forced Dexter to marry her. She and Dexter getting divorced was a private matter. So, there was no need to trouble Joseph about it. He didn't need to know. Dexter went downstairs first and picked out a car from the garage. He didn't ask Chet to drive him to Bamford Manor. Instead, he drove the car out himself. The engine emitted a low hum in the night. Angela changed into a white camisole dress and draped a pale blue shawl over it, accentuating her curves. Her long hair cascaded down her shoulders, and the pale skin on her neck was partially visible, adding a touch of allure. She forcefully tugged on the handle of the door to the back seat, but it wouldn't budge. The window on the passenger side rolled down halfway, and Dexter's impatient voice came from inside. "Get in the front." Angela hesitated only briefly before opening the door and getting in. Dexter stepped on the accelerator pedal somewhat heavily as he drove off. The inertia caused Angela to be thrown back into her seat slightly, making her frown. She glanced sideways at Dexter, who had one hand resting on the wheel. He was completely focused on the road, seemingly oblivious to her presence. He had always been like this. In their three years of marriage, he had seldom given her any of his attention unless it had been necessary. Over the years, Angela had rarely gotten to ride in his car. The times she had gotten to sit in the passenger seat were few and far between. Now that she was preparing to divorce Dexter, she didn't bother to engage him further. Hence, the drive was silent. The car stopped in front of Bamford Manor, which was on the outskirts of town. With its lush greenery and vast expanse, it resembled castle grounds from the last century—rustic yet grand on the outside and luxurious on the inside. Just as Angela was about to open the door to get out, Dexter grabbed her wrist. "Hold on." She turned around in puzzlement to see Dexter looking unusually serious. "What?" she asked curtly. "Let me remind you again—Grandpa can't handle surprises. Think carefully before you speak," Dexter reminded warily. Angela nodded, her tone cold as she replied, "I know." As she got out, she shrugged her shoulders against the chilly night air. With brisk steps, she walked toward the entrance. Dexter watched her back, noticing that she didn't wait for him. He caught up with her in a few strides and placed a hand over her shoulder. He felt her halt, and her body stiffened for a brief second. Ultimately, she didn't pull away. In the main hall on the first floor, Dexter's mother, Fiona Rosewell sat elegantly, holding a steaming cup of dandelion tea prepared by the maids. She didn't even look up when Gary announced Dexter and Angela's return. Angela wasn't surprised. For the past three years, Fiona had always been indifferent toward her. Once, Angela would have felt hurt upon being given the cold shoulder. But now that she was on the brink of divorce from Dexter, none of it seemed to matter anymore. Knowing that Dexter would never take the initiative to greet Fiona, Angela took the initiative to greet her instead. After a moment, Fiona reluctantly nodded and said, "Oh, you're here. Go greet your grandfather." She sipped her tea daintily—a signal for them to leave her alone. Her gaze lingered on Dexter's hand that was on Angela's shoulder, and she frowned slightly. She had always disliked seeing them being intimate. Dexter, as usual, ignored her and walked straight past her. Fiona and Dexter had been estranged for years. Once, Angela had tried to act as a mediator between them. Now that she had her own troubles, she no longer had any energy to spare them. She followed Dexter into Joseph's bedroom and found the latter looking somewhat weary as he leaned against the headboard. Upon hearing the door open, Joseph looked up. His eyes lit up with joy when he saw it was them. "You're here, Angie! I was just thinking of you, birthday girl. Gary, go bring the gift I prepared for Angie." Joseph's cheerful expression nearly brought tears to Angela's eyes. In this household, he was probably the only one who had bothered to prepare a gift for her. "Grandpa, I heard you've been unwell lately. Don't worry about me. Your health means more to me than any gift you could give," Angela said with concern. She chatted with Joseph for a while before going off to make him some fresh pasta. As soon as she left, Joseph's expression became grim. He looked up and narrowed his eyes at Dexter, who had been silent since he had entered the room. "Cat got your tongue?" The corners of Dexter's lips became slightly downturned. "Didn't I bring her back to see you?" "Don't act innocent, Dexter. I'm warning you, don't keep this up until it's too late. Angie is a good woman—don't take her for granted! Keep an eye on the Graham family. They're not easy to deal with either. "As for that other Carrey woman… You'd better cut ties with her completely! Don't upset Angie, you fool." Dexter mumbled a few vague responses, hoping to end the conversation. Joseph was about to lose his temper when Angela returned with the fresh pasta. "Here's the pasta, Grandpa. Give it a try and see if it is as good as you remember," Angela said. Joseph noticed that Dexter and Angela had barely had any interaction with each other ever since they had arrived. In his eyes, this was a clear sign of trouble. He was especially worried because Angela's eyes no longer shone when she looked toward Dexter. Joseph felt an urgency to intervene on behalf of his oblivious grandson. He took a spoonful of the pasta and praised it. Then, he asked with a smile, "Angie, I'm getting older. I hope that my home can be a bit more lively, you know? When are you two planning to give us a new family member?" Chapter 5 Angela had just gotten out of the car and steadied herself when the black Cullinan drove off without any hesitation, leaving her in a cloud of dust. She stood there in a daze for a moment before letting out a self-deprecating laugh and thought, "That's right. He's always been like this." But before she had time to dwell on her misery, her phone rang urgently. Angela took out her phone and saw that it was an unknown number. "Hello, is this Ms. Graham? I'm the property manager for Villa Heights. I'm calling to confirm if your property has been sold." "Why do you ask?" Angela's heart skipped a beat. Over the years, she had managed the property, so the contact information listed was hers. However, when Marie had passed away, she had been too young. So, Bill had put all of Marie's assets under his name. When Angela had been young, he had used to say to her, "When you grow up and find your Prince Charming, I'll turn this house into a castle for you both to live in happily ever after!" But in just a few years, everything had completely changed for the Graham family. Angela sometimes wondered if Bill was still the same father who used to love her mother dearly and cherish her. Whenever Bill hadn't been home, Judy hadn't allowed Angela to eat at the table. She had come up with the excuse that girls needed to stay in shape and had made Angela go hungry several times a day. Apart from her outerwear, her clothes had always been too short. The freezing winter wind would seep right into her sleeves and chill her to the core. Angela had developed arthritis at a young age, yet Judy had always complained to Bill, saying, "I don't know what else to do! I pamper her, but she's never satisfied. She's always complaining of feeling pain here and there. Anyone who didn't know better would think I'm mistreating her!" Upon hearing that, Bill had responded furiously, "Can't you let us have some peace, Angela?" The first slap she had ever received from Bill had landed on her cheek at that moment. Later on, he had even sacrificed her for his own selfish desires by sending her to Dexter's bed. Angela hated herself for spending three years trying to win Dexter's love and failing ultimately. Frustrated, she clenched her fists tightly. It seemed she couldn't rely on anyone. She would have to reclaim what was rightfully hers on her own. However, she knew she couldn't rush things—she had to take it step by step. First, she needed to secure her mother's house no matter what. The property manager's voice on the other end snapped her back to the present. "The moving company is clearing out the house, saying it has a new owner." Angela was stunned and felt a surge of panic. Hadn't they agreed to give her more time? Why should she bear the consequences of her good-for-nothing stepbrother's actions? "I'm coming over right now!" She hung up and quickly hailed a cab back to her home. But when she arrived, the house was barely recognizable. The place was filled with unfamiliar men in gaudy clothing. The furniture was overturned. The photos of her and Marie were carelessly tossed on the floor. A fat, middle-aged man with a bald head stepped squarely on Marie's face in one of the pictures. "Stop! Who gave you permission to come in?" Angela shouted angrily. The man turned around, grinning sleazily when he saw her. "The house is mine! I can come and go as I please. And who might you be, little lady?" Angela looked at the fat man in front of her in disgust, pointing toward the door. "This house is mine! I'm asking you to leave immediately!" The man guffawed as he said, "Did you all hear that? She says the house is hers!" The men around him joined in, egging him on. "Since when did you get a wife, Tony? She's fighting you over the property!" "Well, she's pretty, but we've never seen her." "Yeah! Introduce us to your beautiful wife, Tony!" The fat man, Tony Koch, felt emboldened by their provocation. He walked up to Angela with a lewd grin. Laughing raucously, he offered, "Come on, pretty lady. Give me a smile! Tell me which room you like. I'll let you choose first!" Angela silently estimated when the police would arrive after she had called them. She stepped back coldly, her face full of disdain. Tony got even more excited when he saw her retreat. "Hey, don't back away!" He reached out, attempting to touch Angela's cheek. Just then, she heard the screech of car brakes outside. She smiled slightly and delivered a crisp slap to Tony's greasy face. Tony stared back in shock, unable to believe that this delicate-looking woman had dared to hit him. "Why you… Do you have a death wish?" he snarled, grabbing a wooden frame from the floor and hurling it at Angela's head. Angela quickly dodged. At that moment, the property manager arrived and said loudly, "Sir, miss, please calm down. The police are at the gate. Let's handle this peacefully!" Upon hearing the property manager's words, Tony hesitated. However, the mocking looks from the people around him made him refuse to back down. "Fine, let's see what kind of punishment she gets for causing trouble on my property!" … Angela had never expected the person who had bailed her out of the police station would be Dexter. When she saw him, he had one hand on the car window, He looked devilishly handsome. His gaze toward her was filled with disdain. "Well, this is unexpected, Mrs. Bamford." The mocking smile on his face was clear to see. "I didn't expect I'd need to come and get you from the police station on the first day you ran away from home." Angela felt a wave of humiliation but held back her tears. She put on a defiant expression and replied, "Since you find it so troublesome, why don't we just get divorced tomorrow? That way, you won't be troubled by my problems anymore." After some time, he chuckled. "Still acting tough, huh? What makes you think I'll comply with your wishes? Get out!". "Don't call me again if you get into this kind of trouble." The Car Continental GT sped off, leaving a trail of exhaust in its wake. Angela crouched down and hugged herself, trying to find some warmth in the cold night. … Over the next few days, Angela rented a small apartment and found a new job. With the police's help, she was granted a three-month grace period. If she could gather enough money within three months, she could buy back Marie's house. During this time, the property couldn't be auctioned or have its ownership title transferred. This meant that she could no longer remain as a rich man's wife who had nothing to her name. The first thing she needed to do was to be able to support herself financially. Things didn't go as she wished. On her first day at work, the HR manager nervously called her over and asked, "Excuse me, are you Mrs. Bamford?" Chapter 6 Angela frowned and denied it without a second thought. However, the manager didn't believe her. "Regardless, we just found out that you have no work experience. I'm sorry, but we can't hire a complete newbie like you." Even though Angela repeatedly assured him of her expertise in design, the manager was adamant about not going through with hiring her. As Angela stared at the manager, who looked deeply troubled, she instantly understood everything. It was Dexter! He was forcing her to give in! Amidst the strange gazes everyone was casting her way, Angela took her belongings and left. At that moment, she felt an urge to call Dexter and ask him why he was doing this. Still, she resisted that impulse and refrained from acting on it. She kept convincing herself not to let this get to her. It was just a job—she could find another. Angela dragged her exhausted body back to her rented apartment, only to find her belongings thrown out and lying miserably in the hallway. Nothing had been spared—even her brand-new bedding and toiletries had suffered the same fate as they lay in a pile outside. Shocked and furious, she immediately called the landlord. "Sorry, but I can't rent to you anymore. I'll transfer your rent back," the landlord replied curtly, not even giving her a chance to question him. Seconds later, she received 2,000 money on Venmo. Once again, the image of Dexter's handsome yet maliciously amused face appeared in her mind. Unable to bear it any longer, she called him. For once, he picked up within ten seconds. "What's wrong? Have you finally come to your senses?" His tone was casual, and there were the sounds of a lively gathering in the background. But the moment he spoke, everything around him fell silent. It seemed everyone was waiting to hear how Angela would make a fool of herself. "Are you making my life difficult for fun, Dexter?" Angela asked. Her eyes were red, and her nose tingled. She was on the verge of tears. Yet, she forced herself to stay composed and not let her voice break. On the other end, there was a brief pause before Dexter let out a cold laugh. "Of course I'm not doing it for fun. I want you to experience what life would be like without the Bamford family—" "You're sick!" Angela spat harshly and hung up before he could finish his sentence. Her shoulders shook slightly as she slid down the cold wall as tears finally streamed down her face. She wiped them away, but they wouldn't stop. Dexter knew her pain more than anyone else, yet he had chosen to rub salt on her wounds. "Dexter, you're a bad egg!" she screamed, her chest heaving. After a long while, she slowly stood up and found a hotel through a quick online search on her phone. She needed somewhere to stay for a few days before she could start afresh. … Meanwhile, in a luxurious VIP suite at Mystique Bar, the earlier liveliness had vanished. In its place was an eerie silence. Everyone exchanged looks, seeing the shock and confusion mirrored in each other's eyes. Who had Dexter been talking to on the phone just now? He had been cursed at, and the person had even hung up on him. The shrill exclamation from earlier—"You're sick!"—seemed to linger in the air, weighing down the atmosphere even more. Dexter's expression was grim. The scowl on his face was so pronounced that it intimidated the people around him. He gripped his phone tightly, staring at the phone screen, which showed that the call had ended. The name "Angela" was right at the top of the list of recent calls. Staring at her name, Dexter seemed to see her defiant face in his mind's eye. "What's wrong, Mr. Bamford?" asked a young man. The person asking was Zayn Jewell, a childhood friend of Dexter's. He was the one who had arranged the gathering that evening. "Nothing." After a brief silence, Dexter stood up and lifted his long legs to step over the obstacles blocking his way. As he walked out, he announced, "I'm leaving." He was tall and muscular—even his back looked imposing. Erica was already waiting outside. As Dexter tossed his coat to her, he ordered coldly, "Take me to Bliss Garden." He thought Angela had acted out of line that day and that she needed stern disciplining. Angela's angry outburst reverberated in his mind constantly as he got into the car and seated himself. Irritated, he loosened his tie. Erica asked, "Mr. Bamford, why are you going to Bliss Garden?" Normally, she wouldn't ask questions. Her reaction was out of the norm that day. Dexter's expression darkened. "What? Do I need to report to you now?" Erica turned pale instantly. She lowered her head and explained, "I'm sorry, Mr. Bamford. Mrs. Bamford is no longer at Bliss Garden." Dexter frowned and asked irritably, "What do you mean? Where did she go?" Erica recounted her conversation with Angela's landlord in Bliss Garden succinctly. "Who told you to do that?" Dexter's gaze was icy, and he exuded a menacing chill all over. No wonder Angela had been furious—she had been pushed to her limits. Erica trembled in fear and struggled to come up with an adequate explanation that could justify her actions. However, her mouth felt like it was glued shut, and she couldn't utter a word. "Find her!" Dexter ordered coldly. His expression remained the same, but it still sent a chill down Erica's spine. The gentle summer night breeze blew softly. Angela trudged along the city's main street with all her belongings. She went from one hotel to another. She had to admit that Dexter was ruthless. With just a little effort, he had plunged her into the depths of despair. This was a huge city, yet she couldn't even find a place to stay. Angela had thought about going home, but that place was hardly home to her anymore. Suddenly, it began to rain. As the rain grew heavier, Angela and her meager belongings were soaked through in no time. Angela ran desperately in the rain. Eventually, she found shelter in a self-service banking kiosk. With that, she finally had a moment to catch her breath. She found a cheap motel that didn't require any registration on her phone. When the rain stopped, she took a cab there. The motel was in poor condition, and it had thin walls. So, she didn't sleep well all night. The next morning, she woke up with a fever. She felt hot for a moment, but cold in the next. Due to her sickness, she drifted in and out of consciousness. Suddenly, Angela heard the door open. She jumped out of bed immediately, feeling alarmed. Dexter stepped in, and it was clear he wasn't pleased. When their eyes met, her guarded expression didn't soften in the slightest. She asked, "What are you doing here?" Of course, he was there to watch her misery. What Dexter first noticed upon stepping in wasn't the defensive look on Angela's face. He scanned the shabby room and frowned while thinking, "I can't believe she'd rather stay here than admit defeat and come home." "I came to see what my dear wife has been up to these past two days," Dexter said blandly, sitting down on the dingy couch. The lingering scent of the previous occupants' body odor and sweat clung to it. The moment his nose caught the stench, he stood back up, feeling repulsed. "So, is life on the streets fun?" he asked, looking at Angela with amusement. He observed her frail frame. Though she looked thin and weak, her gaze was sharp and defiant. Something was different about her. "It's none of your business." Angela's head ached, and her knees felt like they would buckle at any moment. Even her voice sounded lethargic. She wrapped herself in her clothes and sneezed. It made her head throb even more. Dexter quickly sensed that something was wrong with her. He stepped forward and grabbed her arm, noticing right away that she was burning up. His hand shot up to her face and forehead, and an even warmer temperature registered on his fingers.	LEARN_MORE	https://beokn.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=15824&ut	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61559743679549/	323	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	beokn.com	DCO		https://beokn.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=15824&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}&placement={{placement}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/468079191_576706848177391_5263571557326726272_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=103&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=GjuATbq9QKoQ7kNvgHUdsQ0&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AQlix74y3zBm0d9HdSEceXS&oh=00_AYDZc3SrLuq1AuANJX-cSYdLdVUiJNw3uxjdqOwWAO73dw&oe=6756CAC3	PERSON_PROFILE	0	0	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,586,169	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2586152}'	Yes	2024-12-04 20:33	active	1960	He drunkenly hugged her “Call me husband again ......”	💔Nyla Jayston was in her third month of trying to conceive when she saw a message on her husband Clark Sumner's phone from a contact named "Jordyn Cheatham". Jordyn: [I think my new nightgown is a bit tight. Why don't you come over and check if it fits?] Attached was a selfie of a woman in a deep V-neck red slip dress, her body partly exposed, exuding seduction. Nyla's grip on the phone tightened. She scrolled up and found Clark and Jordyn's previous exchanges to be strictly work-related, which made her frown. 'Was the text sent by mistake? Or…' A hand wrapped around Nyla's waist from behind, breaking her thoughts. Clark pressed his warm body against hers and gently nibbled her earlobe. "Honey, I'm all cleaned up. Do you want to do it on the couch or the bed?" Before Nyla could respond, Clark picked her up and laid her on the couch, his tall frame looming over her. "Since you're not saying anything, I'll choose. Let's do it on the couch," Clark said, his voice husky and his eyes filled with a flicker of fire that made Nyla blush instantly. Nyla was already beautiful, and the slight flush on her cheeks made her look like a tempting, ripe, juicy peach under the light. Clark's gaze grew darker. He leaned in to kiss Nyla, but she suddenly turned her head away. Sensing her resistance, he looked at her with confusion. "Honey, what's wrong?" Clark, usually assertive at work, now looked at Nyla with a mix of confusion and hurt, which softened her heart momentarily. Despite that, she hadn't forgotten the explicit selfie she had just seen. She stopped him with one hand on his chest and held up his phone with the other, showing him the screen. "Explain this first." Clark glanced at the screen and immediately frowned, grabbing the phone to make a call. It was quickly answered. "Mr. Sumner, what can I do for you?" Clark glowered, and his voice turned icy. "I didn’t know my secretary started soliciting clients." There was a moment of silence before Jordyn's panicked voice came through. "M-Mr. Sumner, I'm sorry. That message was meant for my boyfriend. I must have sent it to you by mistake..." "Next time it happens, pack your things and leave!" Clark hung up and looked back at Nyla, his expression softening, even showing a hint of grievance. "Honey, she sent it by mistake. If you're still upset, I'll fire her tomorrow. It's late now, so let’s not waste time on someone unworthy. We haven't seen each other in a week. You need to make it up to me tonight." Clark pulled Nyla in for a kiss, but her mood was ruined despite the issue being cleared up. She wasn't in the mood anymore and pushed him away. "I'm tired tonight. Let's continue tomorrow." A flash of disappointment crossed Clark's eyes, but he didn't pressure her. "Alright, you sleep first. I'm not tired yet, so I'll go to the study to handle some work." "Okay." … It started raining heavily in the middle of the night. The sound woke Nyla, and she reached out only to feel the cold space beside her. She glanced at the clock—3:16 a.m. Nyla wondered whether Clark was still working. She got up, put on a robe, and went to the study, but it was dark and empty. Her grip on the doorknob tightened, and her heart sank. Nyla’s phone suddenly chimed, startling her in the quiet night. Seeing that it was a text from a stranger, she had a gut feeling that reading it would mean no turning back for her and Clark. A thunderclap boomed outside, startling her into accidentally pressing it. [Still awake? Because your husband isn't with you?] [I was scared because of the thunder and power outage, and he came to comfort me.] [Don't you want to know where your husband is?] As Nyla read the messages and the boastful tone, her hands trembled uncontrollably. After a long while, another text came in with an address and a series of digits. Nyla bit her lip, grabbed her car keys, and drove straight there. By the time she reached the villa, it was past 4:00 a.m. She entered the code, and the door unlocked. The living room lights were on. From the entrance to the bedroom door, a man's suit and a woman's lingerie were strewn about, revealing the urgency of their actions. Seeing the torn red nightgown at the bedroom door, Nyla felt a sense of absurdity. Although the distance from the entrance to the bedroom was only a few meters, it felt like an eternity to Nyla. Standing at the bedroom door, she felt light-headed and dizzy. She reached out, trembling, and slowly pushed the slightly open door. The sight of the messy bed and the bared couple entwined—their heavy breathing filling the room—pierced Nyla's heart. The couple was so engrossed that they didn't notice her standing there. Nyla's hand on the door frame turned white from gripping it too hard, leaving red marks on her palm. She had been with Clark for eight years, from school days to marriage, envied by everyone around them. Until today, she had never imagined betrayal between them. Now, reality dealt her a cruel blow. Even the most sincere wedding vows couldn't withstand a fickle heart. Unable to bear the sight, Nyla turned and stumbled out, driving away. She stopped by a bar on the way and decided to go in. … By the time Valarie Weir arrived, Nyla had already downed two bottles of whiskey, her gaze slightly unfocused. "Valarie, you're here..." Seeing Nyla surrounded by several men, Valarie frowned. "All of you, leave!" "No, they're fine here—" "I said, leave!" After driving the men away, Valarie sat next to Nyla. "What happened? Did Clark really cheat on you?" Valarie was Nyla's university roommate and had witnessed Nyla and Clark’s journey from school to marriage. She had seen Clark treat Nyla well all these years, so she couldn't believe he would cheat. Upon hearing Clark’s name, Nyla's gaze dimmed, and the heart-wrenching pain came rushing back. "I don't want to hear that name right now." Chapter 2 Nyla downed her drink in one gulp. She had never imagined Clark would betray her. Seeing him in bed with another woman felt like a dagger through her heart. "I just can't believe it. He loved you so much. He didn't seem like the type to cheat. Maybe there's a misunderstanding," Valarie suggested. Nyla let out a cold laugh. "I saw it with my own eyes. How could that be a misunderstanding?" The room fell silent. Watching Nyla drink like there was no tomorrow, Valarie grabbed the glass from her hand. "Even if he cheated, you shouldn't punish yourself by getting drunk. What are you going to do now?" "I'm getting a divorce. Just thinking about him with that woman makes me sick." Upon seeing the defiance in Nyla’s red eyes, Valarie's heart ached. "Don't think about it now. You need to rest. Decide what to do next once you’re calm. I'll take you home." Nyla shook her head. "No... I don't want to go back." Returning to that house would only bring back the sickening images of Clark’s betrayal. Each recollection made her feel nauseous. Seeing Nyla’s reluctance, Valarie didn't insist. "I'll book you a hotel room then." … After booking a room, Valarie took Nyla to the hotel entrance. "Are you sure you don't want me to take you up?" Nyla shook her head. "No, you go rest. I'll be fine." She waved with the room card and walked into the hotel. Seeing Nyla walk steadily, Valarie finally breathed a sigh of relief and drove away once Nyla was inside the hotel. What she didn't know was that Nyla, when drunk, appeared sober but was actually a mess inside. Nyla entered the elevator, scanned her card, and the elevator began to ascend. Soon, the doors opened with a ding. As Nyla stepped out onto the carpet, her legs almost gave out. She steadied herself against the wall, massaging her aching temples while searching for her room number. The wine was taking its toll, and her vision blurred. She found Room 8919 and tried the card on the door. Hearing no beep, she frowned and was about to push the door when it suddenly opened. Nyla froze. Before she could react, a large hand yanked her into the dark room. The door slammed shut, cutting off the light from the hallway. She was pressed against the door, a man's breath hot against her ear, making her shiver. The familiar scent of pine filled her senses, but before she could place it, she felt the warmth of his lips on hers. "Mmph!" Realizing what was happening, Nyla struggled. Damon was strong, and with the wine dulling her strength, her hands felt weak, almost inviting as she pushed against his chest. Damon’s hands roamed her body, leaving a trail of fire, and her body grew more responsive under his touch. Nyla tried to push him away, but he easily caught her wrists and pinned them above her head. "Let— Mmph! Let me go…" He stopped kissing her and chuckled. "No need to play hard to get." His fingers traced her collar, the cool touch making her shudder. His body heat seemed to melt her, and her legs grew weak. In the dark, Nyla’s senses heightened. She felt Damon unbuttoning her clothes, her mouth dry, her last bit of rationality warning her that this was going too far. "Let me go!" She mustered all her strength to push him, but he simply picked her up and threw her onto the bed. The bed was soft, so Nyla didn’t feel pain, but the impact made her head spin. She tried to get up, but Damon pinned her down. Soon, her clothes were gone, and they were both nearly bared. He pressed against her, ready. His dominating presence made her tremble. She pushed against his chest, biting her lip to stay calm and clear-headed. "Mister, I think I entered the wrong room. Please let me go…" Nyla’s voice shook with tension. "Tsk!" Damon's voice was impatient, his tone cold. "Still playing?" He was about to get up and kick Nyla out when the room light suddenly came on. Nyla had accidentally hit the light switch in her struggle. The sudden light made Damon squint. He was shocked when he saw the terrified woman beneath him. Nyla, recognizing Damon, felt the blood drain from her face. The fear sobered her instantly. She couldn’t believe it—the man who almost violated her was Clark’s uncle, Damon Summer! "Uncle Damon…" Nyla had always been wary of Damon. He was the youngest son of Richard Sumner and Marie Thorne, doted on by them and known for his unpredictable, cold nature. Even outsiders avoided crossing him. When she married Clark, he had warned her to steer clear of Damon. "Shut up!" Damon's face was dark, his gaze icy, as he contemplated whether to silence her for good. Then, his eyes shifted to her bare body, darkening further. He turned away, getting off the bed. "Get dressed and get out!" As Damon moved, Nyla caught a glimpse of him where she shouldn't, and her face turned red with embarrassment. Upon seeing her flushed face, Damon's expression soured even more. "Still not leaving?" Nyla could not care less about her embarrassment as she hastily dressed and left without looking back. Once outside, she checked the room number and realized her mistake—it wasn’t Room 8919, but Room 8916! She had entered the wrong room and almost slept with her husband’s uncle. The thought made her headache worse. She should have let Valarie take her up. Unfortunately, it was too late for regrets now. After Nyla left, Damon dialed a number with a glower on his face. "Delete all surveillance footage from the Empire Skyview Hotel tonight!" Upon hanging up, he looked at the messy bed and sheets, his irritation growing. He had almost slept with his nephew’s wife... What a mess! Chapter 3 On Nyla's way back, she hesitated for a long time before finally messaging Damon, someone whose contact she had had for three years but had never contacted. Nyla: [Uncle Damon... Can we pretend tonight never happened? I was really drunk and went to the wrong room.] She waited for a long time, but there was no response from Damon. Frowning, she sent another message. Nyla: [?] As soon as she sent it, a red exclamation mark appeared: [You are no longer friends with this user. Please send a friend request to continue chatting.] Nyla bit her lip. Damon had deleted her. He must not want to bring this up again. Relieved, she finally felt a bit of peace. … When Nyla got home, it was already past 6:00 a.m. As soon as she opened the door, she saw Clark sitting on the sofa. He turned sharply at the sound of the door, his eyes bloodshot from a sleepless night. "Where were you last night? I called you dozens of times. Why didn’t you answer?" Clark stood up and walked quickly toward her, reaching out to grab her hand, but she pulled away. He froze, about to speak, but she spoke first, her tone icy. "You can stay out all night, but I can't?" Nyla had always been gentle. In their eight years together, they had hardly ever argued. This was the first time she had spoken to him so coldly. Clark sensed something was wrong and noticed her red, swollen eyes. His expression changed, and his hand clenched at his side. "You know, don't you?" His voice was calm, without a trace of guilt or panic, as if he had expected this day to come. Upon seeing his unapologetic demeanor, Nyla's long-suppressed emotions finally exploded. She swung her bag at him, her eyes red with fury, like a madwoman. All the good times they had shared, all the happy moments, were shattered the moment she saw him in bed with another woman. They could never be pieced together again. "Clark Sumner, how could you do something so disgusting?! If you didn’t love me anymore, you could have divorced me. Why did you have to hurt me like this?" Nyla had assumed that no third party could ever come between them. Unfortunately, reality gave her a harsh slap, waking her from the lies he had woven and turning her love for him into a joke. Seeing her red, tear-filled eyes, Clark felt a pang in his chest. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into his arms. "Nyla, I’m sorry..." Nyla shoved him away, wanting to laugh but only tears came. "Don’t touch me with your filthy hands! "Is it that hard to stay faithful? "Since we got married, I’ve met many excellent men, and some have shown interest in me. But I’ve never crossed the line. If I can do it, why can’t you?!" Clark clenched his fists when he saw the disappointment and anger in her eyes. "Nyla, you’re the only one I love… It was just an accident with her…" His explanation sounded so weak that Nyla found it both laughable and nauseating. "So you’re saying I could sleep with another man and then tell you it was an accident? That I may have betrayed you physically, but my heart still belongs to you?" A flash of ruthlessness crossed Clark's eyes. "If you dare, I’ll end you and that man together in bed." Seeing his icy gaze, Nyla felt a chill in her heart. If he knew betrayal was unforgivable, why would he still betray her? She took a deep breath and spoke slowly. "Do you remember what I told you when you proposed?" She had said that if he ever betrayed her, she would not forgive him but leave him. Clark’s expression changed. "I will not let you leave!" Nyla wiped her tears, her expression a mixture of ridicule and hatred. "Whether you agree or not, I’ve made up my mind. I’m divorcing you. You don’t deserve my forgiveness." With that, she ignored his reaction and went upstairs. Clark stared at her back, his gaze dark. … Back in the bedroom, Nyla went straight to the bathroom to shower, unable to stand the smell of wine on herself. While applying body wash, she noticed red marks on her chest and paused. The image of Damon’s hands roaming her body flashed through her mind, making her frown. She scrubbed the marks hard until the skin around them turned red, trying to erase his touch. After her shower, she saw Clark sitting on the bed with his head down, lost in thought. She frowned and decided to ignore him. They would be divorced soon anyway. Clark looked up and saw Nyla coming out in just a towel. Her damp hair dripped water, her freshly washed face flushed like a blooming rose with an enticing fragrance. The towel barely covered her behinds, revealing her long, fair legs. His breath hitched, his gaze glued on her. Nyla didn’t notice Clark's reaction. She walked to the wardrobe to grab her pajamas when a pair of arms suddenly wrapped around her from behind. "Nyla..." Clark's voice was husky, filled with undisguised desire. Clark had been thinking about how to win her back downstairs after she left. The only way he could think of was to have a child with her. He had come upstairs to discuss this with her, planning to take it slow. However, he lost control upon seeing her just out of the shower. In the past, such behavior would have stirred Nyla's feelings, but all she felt now was disgust. She turned and pushed him away, her gaze full of revulsion. "Don’t touch me. I feel dirty." Hurt flashed in Clark's eyes. He grabbed her hands, his expression earnest. "Didn’t you always want a child? Let’s have one now, okay?" Nyla shook him off at his matter-of-fact attitude. "That was before. I might have a child in the future, but it won’t be yours." Her words enraged Clark. He grabbed her and threw her onto the bed, pinning her down. "Say that again!" His eyes were full of anger, but Nyla didn’t care. "It doesn’t matter how many times I say it. I’m disgusted by you. I’d rather die than have your child." As soon as she finished speaking, Clark kissed her fiercely. Chapter 4 Nyla froze for a moment, then struggled desperately. Just the thought of Clark kissing another woman the night before filled her with disgust and rage. "Let go!" Her struggles were futile against Clark, who only tightened his grip around her waist. As she fought, her towel loosened, revealing her body. His gaze darkened, and he felt a rush of desire. Their bodies were pressed tightly together, and Nyla quickly noticed the change in Clark. Furious, she bit him hard, tasting blood in their mouths. Instead of letting go, Clark's other hand slipped under Nyla's towel. She had nothing on underneath, having just come out of the shower. She stiffened and struggled even more fiercely. "Clark, get off me!" Clark ignored Nyla, his fingers teasing her sensitive spots. "Nyla, you need me too, don't you?" Nyla’s struggles were in vain, and she grew increasingly desperate. As Clark positioned himself, she closed her eyes in despair. "Clark, don't make me hate you." Clark halted abruptly. Seeing Nyla filled with despair and pain, like a fragile porcelain doll about to shatter, made him pause. He wanted her desperately, but a voice in his head warned that if he took her now, it would be the end of them. He stared at her, his hand tightening around her waist. After several tense seconds, he suddenly let go and got off the bed, leaving the room quickly. The door slammed shut with a loud bang, making Nyla flinch. She clutched the blanket tightly. … For the next few days, Clark didn't come home. Nyla called him several times to discuss the divorce, but he didn't respond. … The weekend arrived. Nyla was in the living room, sending out job applications when she heard the front door open. Clark walked in, looking haggard. They stared at each other in silence until Nyla broke it, closing her laptop and standing up calmly. "Since you're back, let's talk about the divorce." Clark frowned. "I told you, I won't divorce you. I'm here to remind you that we have to go to the family dinner tonight." The Sumners held a monthly dinner, and ever since their wedding, Clark and Nyla had attended together. The family wasn't kind to Nyla, often treating her poorly. She endured it because she believed Clark loved her. After seeing him with another woman, however, she couldn't lie to herself anymore. "I don't want to go. Go by yourself." Clark’s expression turned impatient. "Nyla, how long are you going to keep this up?" He had ignored her calls and messages, hoping she would calm down, but she was still the same. "I'm not keeping anything up. I just want a divorce." Upon hearing the word "divorce", Clark's patience wore thin. He looked at Nyla as if she were unreasonable. "Divorce? You haven't worked since we got married. How will you support yourself? Which company would hire you? And what about your father's exorbitant medical bills? Can you afford those? "Nyla, you're not a teenager anymore. You're 28. It's time to grow up. "I'm the CEO of the Sumner Group. I face temptations all the time. Sometimes, it's hard to resist, but those women will never take your place as my wife. What more do you want?" Clark couldn't understand why Nyla didn't see that he still loved her, even if he couldn't commit to being with her forever. Seeing Clark’s arrogant demeanor, Nyla couldn't reconcile this man with the shy boy who had once blushed while confessing his love and promising never to hurt her. Maybe this was his true self—selfish, proud, and condescending. "If being mature means tolerating your infidelity, then I'm sorry, I can't do that. Find someone else. Here are the divorce papers I've had drafted. Sign them when you have time." Clark glanced at the documents, sneering when he saw the section on asset division. "Quite the appetite you have, asking for half my assets. Do you really think that's possible?" "I deserve it. Why not?" Clark chuckled, his tone mocking. "Look around this house. Did you buy anything here? I've been covering your father's medical expenses for years. If we tally things up, you should be paying me. Should I have my lawyer do the math?" As Nyla watched his bitter expression, she couldn't believe she had once loved this man. He had hidden his true self so well that, until she caught him cheating, she had thought he was a great guy. "Don't forget, if it weren't for me giving you that patent, you wouldn't be the Sumner Group's CEO. And you were the one who told me to stay home after we got married. If I had continued my research, I would have earned far more than what you've given me." Unfazed, Clark replied, "Who would believe you about the patent now? "I don't want to argue about money, but if you insist on a divorce, we'll have to settle accounts. Nyla, as long as you drop the divorce idea, my money is still yours to use." "Clark, you're despicable!" Since he refused to divorce, she'd have to sue. She turned to leave, but he blocked her. "Change your clothes. We're going to the family dinner." "I said I'm not going. Tell them I'm not feeling well." Clark grabbed her wrist. "Nyla, I'm running out of patience. Don't force me to cut off your father's medical expenses." "You wouldn't dare!" Clark took out his phone and called his secretary. "Cancel my father-in-law's medical payment for next month—" Furious, Nyla grabbed his phone and ended the call. "You're crossing a line, Clark." "Crossing a line?" Clark's gaze was full of contempt as he yanked her closer. "Everything you have is because of me. Don't you think you're the one crossing the line? Change your clothes, or I have numerous ways to make you comply." Chapter 5 Seeing the coldness in Clark's eyes, Nyla realized how blind she had been to fall in love with such a man. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, but she refused to show any vulnerability in front of him. She yanked her hand away, took a deep breath, and headed upstairs. The only thought in her mind was to find a job quickly so she could move out and divorce Clark. She grabbed a random outfit, tied her hair up with a hairpin, and went back downstairs. She was never one to fuss over her appearance. In the past, she had dressed up for the Sumners' gatherings to make a good impression. Now, she couldn't care less. Hearing her footsteps, Clark looked up. Nyla wore a fitted white dress, her waist so slender it seemed it could be encircled with one hand. Her hair was secured with a jade hairpin, revealing her delicate neck. She was breathtakingly beautiful. The grace she exuded was just like when they first met. However, the look in her eyes now was devoid of any warmth. "Let’s go," she said. They drove to the Sumner residence in silence. As they arrived and were about to get out of the car, a black Range Rover sped up and stopped abruptly in front of them. Upon recognizing the car, Clark's expression darkened. It was Damon's car, someone he both feared and disliked. Damon was known for his reckless and unpredictable behavior. He had refused to take over the Sumner Group when Richard wanted him to run the company, choosing to start his own business instead. Everyone had expected him to fail, but within five years, his company had grown to be worth several times more than the Sumner Group. Clark couldn't stand Damon, partly out of jealousy. Once, a comment Clark made about Damon reached Damon's ears, and in retaliation, Damon refused to collaborate with the Sumner Group, costing them millions. Damon rarely attended family dinners, and Clark had hoped to avoid him. Luck wasn’t on his side today—they met at the door. He didn’t notice Nyla’s stiffened expression when she saw Damon get out of his car. Clark opened the car door and greeted, "Uncle Damon." Damon glanced at him indifferently, his gaze briefly landing on the passenger seat before he nodded and walked into the house. Nyla let out a deep breath. When Damon looked her way, she had forgotten to breathe, fearing he might say something outrageous. He was known for his unpredictable nature, always doing whatever he pleased. Fortunately, he said nothing. She decided she needed to talk to him privately later. As Clark and Nyla walked into the living room, they saw it was already filled with people. Richard and Marie, the family heads, were chatting with Damon. He was the kind of person who naturally stood out in a crowd. Noticing Nyla’s gaze on Damon, Clark frowned. "Why are you staring at my uncle?" Nyla withdrew her gaze and replied coolly, "None of your business." Her coldness irritated Clark. "Nyla, you know I don’t like you paying attention to other men." Ever since they got together, Clark had been extremely controlling, not allowing Nyla to interact with other men. She used to think this was a sign of his love, but now it seemed laughable. She sneered. "And I don’t like you sleeping with other women, but you seem to enjoy it just fine." Clark said through gritted teeth, "This is a family dinner. We’ll deal with this later." "If you don’t want me to bring it up, then stay out of my business," she retorted. Clark didn’t want to cause a scene now because it might affect the Sumner Group and his standing with Richard, who still held all the company’s shares. As they talked, Marie called out, "Nyla, Clark, you’re here! Come sit down!" Nyla took a deep breath, forcing a smile as she approached. She might not like the Sumners, but she maintained basic manners. "Hello, Grandpa, Grandma," she greeted with a smile. Marie, who had been urging Damon to settle down and get married, looked pleased to see the couple. "Come, sit down." She turned to Damon with a hint of dissatisfaction. "Look at Clark. He manages the company well and has a beautiful wife. They might have children soon. And you? Almost 30 and still single. If you don’t bring a girlfriend next time, don’t bother coming!" Damon glanced at the couple with a smirk. "She is indeed beautiful." He just wondered how that petite frame would suffer if she were to have children. Nyla frowned, feeling uncomfortable with Damon’s gaze. Clark also noticed the inappropriate way Damon looked at Nyla. It wasn’t the look of an elder but more like a man admiring a woman. His hand clenched into a fist, and his body tensed. Marie sighed. "My point is, when will you bring me a daughter-in-law?" "Depends. If I meet someone I like, maybe I’ll bring her back tomorrow," Damon replied nonchalantly. "You’re too picky! I’ve arranged a good match for you. Date's tomorrow, don’t ruin it." "Then you’ll probably have to apologize to another old friend tomorrow." Frustrated, Marie snapped, “You’re going to drive me crazy!” Damon glanced at Clark. “Clark's been married for years. Instead of pushing me, why don’t you encourage him to have kids?” Marie nodded, realizing Damon wouldn’t listen to her. She turned to Nyla and Clark, her expression softening. “Nyla, you and Clark have been married for a few years now. When are you planning to have children?” Chapter 6 Nyla lifted her head to speak, but Clark grabbed her hand and smiled. "Grandma, we're working on it!" Nyla tried to pull her hand away, but Clark's grip was too tight. If he wouldn't let her be, she wouldn't make it easy for him either. She turned to Marie. "Grandma, I'm looking for a job right now, so having children might have to wait." The room fell silent. Clark's grip on Nyla's hand tightened painfully, and she winced. Damon glanced at Clark's hand on Nyla, noticing the bulging veins, then looked away indifferently. Clark’s aunt, Anne Sumner, sneered. "Nyla, don't blame me for being blunt. You've been married for years. How can you not have a child yet? If it weren't for Clark insisting on marrying you, do you think your family could have ever married into the Sumners? "You should be grateful. If you don't want to have Clark's child, there are plenty of women who do. If someone else steps in, you’ll be the one looking silly." Besides, Anne thought, "Who knows if Nyla is fertile?" She sounded like she meant well, but her gaze at Nyla was filled with an air of superiority. Marie frowned at Anne, disapproving. "Anne, enough." Anne pursed her lips but stayed silent. Marie turned back to Nyla with a kind smile. "Nyla, you and Clark are still young. If you don't want children yet, that's fine. Just don't overwork yourself. Our family isn't short on money. You can work if you want, but take it easy." Nyla nodded. "I understand, Grandma." With that, the awkward moment passed, and the room returned to its previous warmth. Seeing the attention shift away, Clark pulled Nyla out of the living room. Once they reached the gazebo in the backyard, he released her. "Nyla, have you lost your mind? Do you want everyone to know about our fight?" Nyla rubbed her sore hand and said, "I was just being honest." "Honest?" Clark scowled. "Should I call your father then?" Harrison Jayston was ill and couldn't handle stress. Nyla planned to divorce Clark before breaking the news to him gently. She glared at Clark. "You wouldn’t dare! You were the one who cheated. What right do you have to be so self-righteous?" Clark clenched his hands, a flicker of guilt crossing his face before it was replaced by impatience. "I promised it wouldn’t happen again. If you don't want to see Jordyn, I'll fire her. What more do you want?" Nyla felt like there was a communication breakdown between them and turned away. "I don't want to argue with you here." When Clark saw her red-rimmed eyes, he softened. "Nyla, I truly know I was wrong. Just don't mention divorce, and I'll make it up to you. I love you. I can't let you go." Nyla found it laughable. How could he claim to love her while being with another woman? Just thinking about him with someone else made her sick. "I will never forgive you." Betrayal was her bottom line. She couldn’t pretend nothing had happened or reconcile with him. Clark knew Nyla well enough to understand that he had to be patient. He believed she still had feelings for him. Otherwise, she would have made a bigger scene when she found out. As long as he refused to divorce her, she would eventually forgive him. "Fine, we won't talk about it now. If you don't want kids yet, we’ll postpone it to two years later. Since you want to work, I'll have my secretary find you a position at the Sumner Group." Nyla laughed at his arrangement, a mocking look in her eyes. "Clark, do you see me as a puppet you can control?" Hurt by her gaze, Clark frowned. "How am I controlling you? You don't want kids now, so I agreed to wait two years. You want to work, so I'll arrange it. What more do you want?" "Stop pretending. I don't want kids because I want a divorce. I want to work to sever ties with you." Clark looked at Nyla's stubborn face, displeased. Since their wedding, she had been like a canary in his cage. He couldn't let her go. "As long as I don't agree, this marriage won't end. Even if you tell a lawyer I cheated, do you have proof?" Clark's confident tone and controlling demeanor made Nyla step back, trembling with anger. She finally saw how selfish and disgusting he was. She had wasted eight years—the best years of her life, from 18 to 26—loving this man. "You make me sick, Clark!" Seeing the undisguised disgust in Nyla's eyes, Clar	LEARN_MORE	https://findedc.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=15692&	Indulge in story	https://www.facebook.com/61552702618591/	859	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	findedc.com	DCO		https://findedc.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=15692&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}&placement={{placement}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/468455042_1262834138099234_1389968434765802098_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=105&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=4MVpFPigFNsQ7kNvgEDgdEI&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=ATfDeiiqnJufsibnJHK0nKr&oh=00_AYCH4Y_6IW8RND8RFYt8FPzITdE6R-9yOMA27nFqO9JlGQ&oe=6756BC87	PERSON_PROFILE	0	0	Indulge in story	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,588,189	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2587908}'	Yes	2024-12-04 20:33	active	1960		FRIDAY 12/6 Blue Sky, a tribute to the amazing Allman Brothers and Southern Rock! •Band Room opens 5PM with Full Menu •Band 6-10PM, DJ 10-2AM •Covered Parking in ramp •No Cover before 10PM. 21+ SATURDAY 12/7 Double Header! 18th Annual Santa Bar Crawl with Jack Stevenson from 2-5PM and Hellz Bellz 6-10PM! 2:00-5:00 Jack Stevenson & BTB (Rock Favorites) 5:00-6:00 DJ Slide-Waze (Open format & Requests) 6:00-10:00 Hellz Bellz (AC/DC Tribute) 10:00-2:00 DJ Slide-Waze (Open Format + Requests) •No Cover Before 9PM •Participating Bar Crawl Santa’s are asked to make a $10 or more donation to benefit children in Erie. •Covered Parking in ramp. 21+. **Santa Bar Crawl Participation is not required to enter BIGBAR.	NO_BUTTON		BIGBAR	https://www.facebook.com/BigBarErie/	17,822	1969-12-31 18:00	No button		IMAGE			1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/469423755_1644490263078992_3886605394142840336_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=106&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=oBUUyueY0GwQ7kNvgFu3BBw&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=ABgOqbcZ8HCX4oiN19DOizJ&oh=00_AYDDOOPr7cX1owY_gcdzwiIBRHHy_nWRVa2i4xW7ITg0VQ&oe=6756F210	PERSON_PROFILE	0	0	BIGBAR	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,586,215	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2586152}'	No	2024-12-04 20:33	active	1960	He drunkenly hugged her “Call me husband again ......”	💔Nyla Jayston was in her third month of trying to conceive when she saw a message on her husband Clark Sumner's phone from a contact named "Jordyn Cheatham". Jordyn: [I think my new nightgown is a bit tight. Why don't you come over and check if it fits?] Attached was a selfie of a woman in a deep V-neck red slip dress, her body partly exposed, exuding seduction. Nyla's grip on the phone tightened. She scrolled up and found Clark and Jordyn's previous exchanges to be strictly work-related, which made her frown. 'Was the text sent by mistake? Or…' A hand wrapped around Nyla's waist from behind, breaking her thoughts. Clark pressed his warm body against hers and gently nibbled her earlobe. "Honey, I'm all cleaned up. Do you want to do it on the couch or the bed?" Before Nyla could respond, Clark picked her up and laid her on the couch, his tall frame looming over her. "Since you're not saying anything, I'll choose. Let's do it on the couch," Clark said, his voice husky and his eyes filled with a flicker of fire that made Nyla blush instantly. Nyla was already beautiful, and the slight flush on her cheeks made her look like a tempting, ripe, juicy peach under the light. Clark's gaze grew darker. He leaned in to kiss Nyla, but she suddenly turned her head away. Sensing her resistance, he looked at her with confusion. "Honey, what's wrong?" Clark, usually assertive at work, now looked at Nyla with a mix of confusion and hurt, which softened her heart momentarily. Despite that, she hadn't forgotten the explicit selfie she had just seen. She stopped him with one hand on his chest and held up his phone with the other, showing him the screen. "Explain this first." Clark glanced at the screen and immediately frowned, grabbing the phone to make a call. It was quickly answered. "Mr. Sumner, what can I do for you?" Clark glowered, and his voice turned icy. "I didn’t know my secretary started soliciting clients." There was a moment of silence before Jordyn's panicked voice came through. "M-Mr. Sumner, I'm sorry. That message was meant for my boyfriend. I must have sent it to you by mistake..." "Next time it happens, pack your things and leave!" Clark hung up and looked back at Nyla, his expression softening, even showing a hint of grievance. "Honey, she sent it by mistake. If you're still upset, I'll fire her tomorrow. It's late now, so let’s not waste time on someone unworthy. We haven't seen each other in a week. You need to make it up to me tonight." Clark pulled Nyla in for a kiss, but her mood was ruined despite the issue being cleared up. She wasn't in the mood anymore and pushed him away. "I'm tired tonight. Let's continue tomorrow." A flash of disappointment crossed Clark's eyes, but he didn't pressure her. "Alright, you sleep first. I'm not tired yet, so I'll go to the study to handle some work." "Okay." … It started raining heavily in the middle of the night. The sound woke Nyla, and she reached out only to feel the cold space beside her. She glanced at the clock—3:16 a.m. Nyla wondered whether Clark was still working. She got up, put on a robe, and went to the study, but it was dark and empty. Her grip on the doorknob tightened, and her heart sank. Nyla’s phone suddenly chimed, startling her in the quiet night. Seeing that it was a text from a stranger, she had a gut feeling that reading it would mean no turning back for her and Clark. A thunderclap boomed outside, startling her into accidentally pressing it. [Still awake? Because your husband isn't with you?] [I was scared because of the thunder and power outage, and he came to comfort me.] [Don't you want to know where your husband is?] As Nyla read the messages and the boastful tone, her hands trembled uncontrollably. After a long while, another text came in with an address and a series of digits. Nyla bit her lip, grabbed her car keys, and drove straight there. By the time she reached the villa, it was past 4:00 a.m. She entered the code, and the door unlocked. The living room lights were on. From the entrance to the bedroom door, a man's suit and a woman's lingerie were strewn about, revealing the urgency of their actions. Seeing the torn red nightgown at the bedroom door, Nyla felt a sense of absurdity. Although the distance from the entrance to the bedroom was only a few meters, it felt like an eternity to Nyla. Standing at the bedroom door, she felt light-headed and dizzy. She reached out, trembling, and slowly pushed the slightly open door. The sight of the messy bed and the bared couple entwined—their heavy breathing filling the room—pierced Nyla's heart. The couple was so engrossed that they didn't notice her standing there. Nyla's hand on the door frame turned white from gripping it too hard, leaving red marks on her palm. She had been with Clark for eight years, from school days to marriage, envied by everyone around them. Until today, she had never imagined betrayal between them. Now, reality dealt her a cruel blow. Even the most sincere wedding vows couldn't withstand a fickle heart. Unable to bear the sight, Nyla turned and stumbled out, driving away. She stopped by a bar on the way and decided to go in. … By the time Valarie Weir arrived, Nyla had already downed two bottles of whiskey, her gaze slightly unfocused. "Valarie, you're here..." Seeing Nyla surrounded by several men, Valarie frowned. "All of you, leave!" "No, they're fine here—" "I said, leave!" After driving the men away, Valarie sat next to Nyla. "What happened? Did Clark really cheat on you?" Valarie was Nyla's university roommate and had witnessed Nyla and Clark’s journey from school to marriage. She had seen Clark treat Nyla well all these years, so she couldn't believe he would cheat. Upon hearing Clark’s name, Nyla's gaze dimmed, and the heart-wrenching pain came rushing back. "I don't want to hear that name right now." Chapter 2 Nyla downed her drink in one gulp. She had never imagined Clark would betray her. Seeing him in bed with another woman felt like a dagger through her heart. "I just can't believe it. He loved you so much. He didn't seem like the type to cheat. Maybe there's a misunderstanding," Valarie suggested. Nyla let out a cold laugh. "I saw it with my own eyes. How could that be a misunderstanding?" The room fell silent. Watching Nyla drink like there was no tomorrow, Valarie grabbed the glass from her hand. "Even if he cheated, you shouldn't punish yourself by getting drunk. What are you going to do now?" "I'm getting a divorce. Just thinking about him with that woman makes me sick." Upon seeing the defiance in Nyla’s red eyes, Valarie's heart ached. "Don't think about it now. You need to rest. Decide what to do next once you’re calm. I'll take you home." Nyla shook her head. "No... I don't want to go back." Returning to that house would only bring back the sickening images of Clark’s betrayal. Each recollection made her feel nauseous. Seeing Nyla’s reluctance, Valarie didn't insist. "I'll book you a hotel room then." … After booking a room, Valarie took Nyla to the hotel entrance. "Are you sure you don't want me to take you up?" Nyla shook her head. "No, you go rest. I'll be fine." She waved with the room card and walked into the hotel. Seeing Nyla walk steadily, Valarie finally breathed a sigh of relief and drove away once Nyla was inside the hotel. What she didn't know was that Nyla, when drunk, appeared sober but was actually a mess inside. Nyla entered the elevator, scanned her card, and the elevator began to ascend. Soon, the doors opened with a ding. As Nyla stepped out onto the carpet, her legs almost gave out. She steadied herself against the wall, massaging her aching temples while searching for her room number. The wine was taking its toll, and her vision blurred. She found Room 8919 and tried the card on the door. Hearing no beep, she frowned and was about to push the door when it suddenly opened. Nyla froze. Before she could react, a large hand yanked her into the dark room. The door slammed shut, cutting off the light from the hallway. She was pressed against the door, a man's breath hot against her ear, making her shiver. The familiar scent of pine filled her senses, but before she could place it, she felt the warmth of his lips on hers. "Mmph!" Realizing what was happening, Nyla struggled. Damon was strong, and with the wine dulling her strength, her hands felt weak, almost inviting as she pushed against his chest. Damon’s hands roamed her body, leaving a trail of fire, and her body grew more responsive under his touch. Nyla tried to push him away, but he easily caught her wrists and pinned them above her head. "Let— Mmph! Let me go…" He stopped kissing her and chuckled. "No need to play hard to get." His fingers traced her collar, the cool touch making her shudder. His body heat seemed to melt her, and her legs grew weak. In the dark, Nyla’s senses heightened. She felt Damon unbuttoning her clothes, her mouth dry, her last bit of rationality warning her that this was going too far. "Let me go!" She mustered all her strength to push him, but he simply picked her up and threw her onto the bed. The bed was soft, so Nyla didn’t feel pain, but the impact made her head spin. She tried to get up, but Damon pinned her down. Soon, her clothes were gone, and they were both nearly bared. He pressed against her, ready. His dominating presence made her tremble. She pushed against his chest, biting her lip to stay calm and clear-headed. "Mister, I think I entered the wrong room. Please let me go…" Nyla’s voice shook with tension. "Tsk!" Damon's voice was impatient, his tone cold. "Still playing?" He was about to get up and kick Nyla out when the room light suddenly came on. Nyla had accidentally hit the light switch in her struggle. The sudden light made Damon squint. He was shocked when he saw the terrified woman beneath him. Nyla, recognizing Damon, felt the blood drain from her face. The fear sobered her instantly. She couldn’t believe it—the man who almost violated her was Clark’s uncle, Damon Summer! "Uncle Damon…" Nyla had always been wary of Damon. He was the youngest son of Richard Sumner and Marie Thorne, doted on by them and known for his unpredictable, cold nature. Even outsiders avoided crossing him. When she married Clark, he had warned her to steer clear of Damon. "Shut up!" Damon's face was dark, his gaze icy, as he contemplated whether to silence her for good. Then, his eyes shifted to her bare body, darkening further. He turned away, getting off the bed. "Get dressed and get out!" As Damon moved, Nyla caught a glimpse of him where she shouldn't, and her face turned red with embarrassment. Upon seeing her flushed face, Damon's expression soured even more. "Still not leaving?" Nyla could not care less about her embarrassment as she hastily dressed and left without looking back. Once outside, she checked the room number and realized her mistake—it wasn’t Room 8919, but Room 8916! She had entered the wrong room and almost slept with her husband’s uncle. The thought made her headache worse. She should have let Valarie take her up. Unfortunately, it was too late for regrets now. After Nyla left, Damon dialed a number with a glower on his face. "Delete all surveillance footage from the Empire Skyview Hotel tonight!" Upon hanging up, he looked at the messy bed and sheets, his irritation growing. He had almost slept with his nephew’s wife... What a mess! Chapter 3 On Nyla's way back, she hesitated for a long time before finally messaging Damon, someone whose contact she had had for three years but had never contacted. Nyla: [Uncle Damon... Can we pretend tonight never happened? I was really drunk and went to the wrong room.] She waited for a long time, but there was no response from Damon. Frowning, she sent another message. Nyla: [?] As soon as she sent it, a red exclamation mark appeared: [You are no longer friends with this user. Please send a friend request to continue chatting.] Nyla bit her lip. Damon had deleted her. He must not want to bring this up again. Relieved, she finally felt a bit of peace. … When Nyla got home, it was already past 6:00 a.m. As soon as she opened the door, she saw Clark sitting on the sofa. He turned sharply at the sound of the door, his eyes bloodshot from a sleepless night. "Where were you last night? I called you dozens of times. Why didn’t you answer?" Clark stood up and walked quickly toward her, reaching out to grab her hand, but she pulled away. He froze, about to speak, but she spoke first, her tone icy. "You can stay out all night, but I can't?" Nyla had always been gentle. In their eight years together, they had hardly ever argued. This was the first time she had spoken to him so coldly. Clark sensed something was wrong and noticed her red, swollen eyes. His expression changed, and his hand clenched at his side. "You know, don't you?" His voice was calm, without a trace of guilt or panic, as if he had expected this day to come. Upon seeing his unapologetic demeanor, Nyla's long-suppressed emotions finally exploded. She swung her bag at him, her eyes red with fury, like a madwoman. All the good times they had shared, all the happy moments, were shattered the moment she saw him in bed with another woman. They could never be pieced together again. "Clark Sumner, how could you do something so disgusting?! If you didn’t love me anymore, you could have divorced me. Why did you have to hurt me like this?" Nyla had assumed that no third party could ever come between them. Unfortunately, reality gave her a harsh slap, waking her from the lies he had woven and turning her love for him into a joke. Seeing her red, tear-filled eyes, Clark felt a pang in his chest. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into his arms. "Nyla, I’m sorry..." Nyla shoved him away, wanting to laugh but only tears came. "Don’t touch me with your filthy hands! "Is it that hard to stay faithful? "Since we got married, I’ve met many excellent men, and some have shown interest in me. But I’ve never crossed the line. If I can do it, why can’t you?!" Clark clenched his fists when he saw the disappointment and anger in her eyes. "Nyla, you’re the only one I love… It was just an accident with her…" His explanation sounded so weak that Nyla found it both laughable and nauseating. "So you’re saying I could sleep with another man and then tell you it was an accident? That I may have betrayed you physically, but my heart still belongs to you?" A flash of ruthlessness crossed Clark's eyes. "If you dare, I’ll end you and that man together in bed." Seeing his icy gaze, Nyla felt a chill in her heart. If he knew betrayal was unforgivable, why would he still betray her? She took a deep breath and spoke slowly. "Do you remember what I told you when you proposed?" She had said that if he ever betrayed her, she would not forgive him but leave him. Clark’s expression changed. "I will not let you leave!" Nyla wiped her tears, her expression a mixture of ridicule and hatred. "Whether you agree or not, I’ve made up my mind. I’m divorcing you. You don’t deserve my forgiveness." With that, she ignored his reaction and went upstairs. Clark stared at her back, his gaze dark. … Back in the bedroom, Nyla went straight to the bathroom to shower, unable to stand the smell of wine on herself. While applying body wash, she noticed red marks on her chest and paused. The image of Damon’s hands roaming her body flashed through her mind, making her frown. She scrubbed the marks hard until the skin around them turned red, trying to erase his touch. After her shower, she saw Clark sitting on the bed with his head down, lost in thought. She frowned and decided to ignore him. They would be divorced soon anyway. Clark looked up and saw Nyla coming out in just a towel. Her damp hair dripped water, her freshly washed face flushed like a blooming rose with an enticing fragrance. The towel barely covered her behinds, revealing her long, fair legs. His breath hitched, his gaze glued on her. Nyla didn’t notice Clark's reaction. She walked to the wardrobe to grab her pajamas when a pair of arms suddenly wrapped around her from behind. "Nyla..." Clark's voice was husky, filled with undisguised desire. Clark had been thinking about how to win her back downstairs after she left. The only way he could think of was to have a child with her. He had come upstairs to discuss this with her, planning to take it slow. However, he lost control upon seeing her just out of the shower. In the past, such behavior would have stirred Nyla's feelings, but all she felt now was disgust. She turned and pushed him away, her gaze full of revulsion. "Don’t touch me. I feel dirty." Hurt flashed in Clark's eyes. He grabbed her hands, his expression earnest. "Didn’t you always want a child? Let’s have one now, okay?" Nyla shook him off at his matter-of-fact attitude. "That was before. I might have a child in the future, but it won’t be yours." Her words enraged Clark. He grabbed her and threw her onto the bed, pinning her down. "Say that again!" His eyes were full of anger, but Nyla didn’t care. "It doesn’t matter how many times I say it. I’m disgusted by you. I’d rather die than have your child." As soon as she finished speaking, Clark kissed her fiercely. Chapter 4 Nyla froze for a moment, then struggled desperately. Just the thought of Clark kissing another woman the night before filled her with disgust and rage. "Let go!" Her struggles were futile against Clark, who only tightened his grip around her waist. As she fought, her towel loosened, revealing her body. His gaze darkened, and he felt a rush of desire. Their bodies were pressed tightly together, and Nyla quickly noticed the change in Clark. Furious, she bit him hard, tasting blood in their mouths. Instead of letting go, Clark's other hand slipped under Nyla's towel. She had nothing on underneath, having just come out of the shower. She stiffened and struggled even more fiercely. "Clark, get off me!" Clark ignored Nyla, his fingers teasing her sensitive spots. "Nyla, you need me too, don't you?" Nyla’s struggles were in vain, and she grew increasingly desperate. As Clark positioned himself, she closed her eyes in despair. "Clark, don't make me hate you." Clark halted abruptly. Seeing Nyla filled with despair and pain, like a fragile porcelain doll about to shatter, made him pause. He wanted her desperately, but a voice in his head warned that if he took her now, it would be the end of them. He stared at her, his hand tightening around her waist. After several tense seconds, he suddenly let go and got off the bed, leaving the room quickly. The door slammed shut with a loud bang, making Nyla flinch. She clutched the blanket tightly. … For the next few days, Clark didn't come home. Nyla called him several times to discuss the divorce, but he didn't respond. … The weekend arrived. Nyla was in the living room, sending out job applications when she heard the front door open. Clark walked in, looking haggard. They stared at each other in silence until Nyla broke it, closing her laptop and standing up calmly. "Since you're back, let's talk about the divorce." Clark frowned. "I told you, I won't divorce you. I'm here to remind you that we have to go to the family dinner tonight." The Sumners held a monthly dinner, and ever since their wedding, Clark and Nyla had attended together. The family wasn't kind to Nyla, often treating her poorly. She endured it because she believed Clark loved her. After seeing him with another woman, however, she couldn't lie to herself anymore. "I don't want to go. Go by yourself." Clark’s expression turned impatient. "Nyla, how long are you going to keep this up?" He had ignored her calls and messages, hoping she would calm down, but she was still the same. "I'm not keeping anything up. I just want a divorce." Upon hearing the word "divorce", Clark's patience wore thin. He looked at Nyla as if she were unreasonable. "Divorce? You haven't worked since we got married. How will you support yourself? Which company would hire you? And what about your father's exorbitant medical bills? Can you afford those? "Nyla, you're not a teenager anymore. You're 28. It's time to grow up. "I'm the CEO of the Sumner Group. I face temptations all the time. Sometimes, it's hard to resist, but those women will never take your place as my wife. What more do you want?" Clark couldn't understand why Nyla didn't see that he still loved her, even if he couldn't commit to being with her forever. Seeing Clark’s arrogant demeanor, Nyla couldn't reconcile this man with the shy boy who had once blushed while confessing his love and promising never to hurt her. Maybe this was his true self—selfish, proud, and condescending. "If being mature means tolerating your infidelity, then I'm sorry, I can't do that. Find someone else. Here are the divorce papers I've had drafted. Sign them when you have time." Clark glanced at the documents, sneering when he saw the section on asset division. "Quite the appetite you have, asking for half my assets. Do you really think that's possible?" "I deserve it. Why not?" Clark chuckled, his tone mocking. "Look around this house. Did you buy anything here? I've been covering your father's medical expenses for years. If we tally things up, you should be paying me. Should I have my lawyer do the math?" As Nyla watched his bitter expression, she couldn't believe she had once loved this man. He had hidden his true self so well that, until she caught him cheating, she had thought he was a great guy. "Don't forget, if it weren't for me giving you that patent, you wouldn't be the Sumner Group's CEO. And you were the one who told me to stay home after we got married. If I had continued my research, I would have earned far more than what you've given me." Unfazed, Clark replied, "Who would believe you about the patent now? "I don't want to argue about money, but if you insist on a divorce, we'll have to settle accounts. Nyla, as long as you drop the divorce idea, my money is still yours to use." "Clark, you're despicable!" Since he refused to divorce, she'd have to sue. She turned to leave, but he blocked her. "Change your clothes. We're going to the family dinner." "I said I'm not going. Tell them I'm not feeling well." Clark grabbed her wrist. "Nyla, I'm running out of patience. Don't force me to cut off your father's medical expenses." "You wouldn't dare!" Clark took out his phone and called his secretary. "Cancel my father-in-law's medical payment for next month—" Furious, Nyla grabbed his phone and ended the call. "You're crossing a line, Clark." "Crossing a line?" Clark's gaze was full of contempt as he yanked her closer. "Everything you have is because of me. Don't you think you're the one crossing the line? Change your clothes, or I have numerous ways to make you comply." Chapter 5 Seeing the coldness in Clark's eyes, Nyla realized how blind she had been to fall in love with such a man. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, but she refused to show any vulnerability in front of him. She yanked her hand away, took a deep breath, and headed upstairs. The only thought in her mind was to find a job quickly so she could move out and divorce Clark. She grabbed a random outfit, tied her hair up with a hairpin, and went back downstairs. She was never one to fuss over her appearance. In the past, she had dressed up for the Sumners' gatherings to make a good impression. Now, she couldn't care less. Hearing her footsteps, Clark looked up. Nyla wore a fitted white dress, her waist so slender it seemed it could be encircled with one hand. Her hair was secured with a jade hairpin, revealing her delicate neck. She was breathtakingly beautiful. The grace she exuded was just like when they first met. However, the look in her eyes now was devoid of any warmth. "Let’s go," she said. They drove to the Sumner residence in silence. As they arrived and were about to get out of the car, a black Range Rover sped up and stopped abruptly in front of them. Upon recognizing the car, Clark's expression darkened. It was Damon's car, someone he both feared and disliked. Damon was known for his reckless and unpredictable behavior. He had refused to take over the Sumner Group when Richard wanted him to run the company, choosing to start his own business instead. Everyone had expected him to fail, but within five years, his company had grown to be worth several times more than the Sumner Group. Clark couldn't stand Damon, partly out of jealousy. Once, a comment Clark made about Damon reached Damon's ears, and in retaliation, Damon refused to collaborate with the Sumner Group, costing them millions. Damon rarely attended family dinners, and Clark had hoped to avoid him. Luck wasn’t on his side today—they met at the door. He didn’t notice Nyla’s stiffened expression when she saw Damon get out of his car. Clark opened the car door and greeted, "Uncle Damon." Damon glanced at him indifferently, his gaze briefly landing on the passenger seat before he nodded and walked into the house. Nyla let out a deep breath. When Damon looked her way, she had forgotten to breathe, fearing he might say something outrageous. He was known for his unpredictable nature, always doing whatever he pleased. Fortunately, he said nothing. She decided she needed to talk to him privately later. As Clark and Nyla walked into the living room, they saw it was already filled with people. Richard and Marie, the family heads, were chatting with Damon. He was the kind of person who naturally stood out in a crowd. Noticing Nyla’s gaze on Damon, Clark frowned. "Why are you staring at my uncle?" Nyla withdrew her gaze and replied coolly, "None of your business." Her coldness irritated Clark. "Nyla, you know I don’t like you paying attention to other men." Ever since they got together, Clark had been extremely controlling, not allowing Nyla to interact with other men. She used to think this was a sign of his love, but now it seemed laughable. She sneered. "And I don’t like you sleeping with other women, but you seem to enjoy it just fine." Clark said through gritted teeth, "This is a family dinner. We’ll deal with this later." "If you don’t want me to bring it up, then stay out of my business," she retorted. Clark didn’t want to cause a scene now because it might affect the Sumner Group and his standing with Richard, who still held all the company’s shares. As they talked, Marie called out, "Nyla, Clark, you’re here! Come sit down!" Nyla took a deep breath, forcing a smile as she approached. She might not like the Sumners, but she maintained basic manners. "Hello, Grandpa, Grandma," she greeted with a smile. Marie, who had been urging Damon to settle down and get married, looked pleased to see the couple. "Come, sit down." She turned to Damon with a hint of dissatisfaction. "Look at Clark. He manages the company well and has a beautiful wife. They might have children soon. And you? Almost 30 and still single. If you don’t bring a girlfriend next time, don’t bother coming!" Damon glanced at the couple with a smirk. "She is indeed beautiful." He just wondered how that petite frame would suffer if she were to have children. Nyla frowned, feeling uncomfortable with Damon’s gaze. Clark also noticed the inappropriate way Damon looked at Nyla. It wasn’t the look of an elder but more like a man admiring a woman. His hand clenched into a fist, and his body tensed. Marie sighed. "My point is, when will you bring me a daughter-in-law?" "Depends. If I meet someone I like, maybe I’ll bring her back tomorrow," Damon replied nonchalantly. "You’re too picky! I’ve arranged a good match for you. Date's tomorrow, don’t ruin it." "Then you’ll probably have to apologize to another old friend tomorrow." Frustrated, Marie snapped, “You’re going to drive me crazy!” Damon glanced at Clark. “Clark's been married for years. Instead of pushing me, why don’t you encourage him to have kids?” Marie nodded, realizing Damon wouldn’t listen to her. She turned to Nyla and Clark, her expression softening. “Nyla, you and Clark have been married for a few years now. When are you planning to have children?” Chapter 6 Nyla lifted her head to speak, but Clark grabbed her hand and smiled. "Grandma, we're working on it!" Nyla tried to pull her hand away, but Clark's grip was too tight. If he wouldn't let her be, she wouldn't make it easy for him either. She turned to Marie. "Grandma, I'm looking for a job right now, so having children might have to wait." The room fell silent. Clark's grip on Nyla's hand tightened painfully, and she winced. Damon glanced at Clark's hand on Nyla, noticing the bulging veins, then looked away indifferently. Clark’s aunt, Anne Sumner, sneered. "Nyla, don't blame me for being blunt. You've been married for years. How can you not have a child yet? If it weren't for Clark insisting on marrying you, do you think your family could have ever married into the Sumners? "You should be grateful. If you don't want to have Clark's child, there are plenty of women who do. If someone else steps in, you’ll be the one looking silly." Besides, Anne thought, "Who knows if Nyla is fertile?" She sounded like she meant well, but her gaze at Nyla was filled with an air of superiority. Marie frowned at Anne, disapproving. "Anne, enough." Anne pursed her lips but stayed silent. Marie turned back to Nyla with a kind smile. "Nyla, you and Clark are still young. If you don't want children yet, that's fine. Just don't overwork yourself. Our family isn't short on money. You can work if you want, but take it easy." Nyla nodded. "I understand, Grandma." With that, the awkward moment passed, and the room returned to its previous warmth. Seeing the attention shift away, Clark pulled Nyla out of the living room. Once they reached the gazebo in the backyard, he released her. "Nyla, have you lost your mind? Do you want everyone to know about our fight?" Nyla rubbed her sore hand and said, "I was just being honest." "Honest?" Clark scowled. "Should I call your father then?" Harrison Jayston was ill and couldn't handle stress. Nyla planned to divorce Clark before breaking the news to him gently. She glared at Clark. "You wouldn’t dare! You were the one who cheated. What right do you have to be so self-righteous?" Clark clenched his hands, a flicker of guilt crossing his face before it was replaced by impatience. "I promised it wouldn’t happen again. If you don't want to see Jordyn, I'll fire her. What more do you want?" Nyla felt like there was a communication breakdown between them and turned away. "I don't want to argue with you here." When Clark saw her red-rimmed eyes, he softened. "Nyla, I truly know I was wrong. Just don't mention divorce, and I'll make it up to you. I love you. I can't let you go." Nyla found it laughable. How could he claim to love her while being with another woman? Just thinking about him with someone else made her sick. "I will never forgive you." Betrayal was her bottom line. She couldn’t pretend nothing had happened or reconcile with him. Clark knew Nyla well enough to understand that he had to be patient. He believed she still had feelings for him. Otherwise, she would have made a bigger scene when she found out. As long as he refused to divorce her, she would eventually forgive him. "Fine, we won't talk about it now. If you don't want kids yet, we’ll postpone it to two years later. Since you want to work, I'll have my secretary find you a position at the Sumner Group." Nyla laughed at his arrangement, a mocking look in her eyes. "Clark, do you see me as a puppet you can control?" Hurt by her gaze, Clark frowned. "How am I controlling you? You don't want kids now, so I agreed to wait two years. You want to work, so I'll arrange it. What more do you want?" "Stop pretending. I don't want kids because I want a divorce. I want to work to sever ties with you." Clark looked at Nyla's stubborn face, displeased. Since their wedding, she had been like a canary in his cage. He couldn't let her go. "As long as I don't agree, this marriage won't end. Even if you tell a lawyer I cheated, do you have proof?" Clark's confident tone and controlling demeanor made Nyla step back, trembling with anger. She finally saw how selfish and disgusting he was. She had wasted eight years—the best years of her life, from 18 to 26—loving this man. "You make me sick, Clark!" Seeing the undisguised disgust in Nyla's eyes, Clar	LEARN_MORE	https://findedc.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=15692&	Indulge in story	https://www.facebook.com/61552702618591/	859	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	findedc.com	DCO		https://findedc.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=15692&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}&placement={{placement}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/468488068_484333964060835_7423614745601675335_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=105&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=aEvUZFVuk1QQ7kNvgENj_u0&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=ATfDeiiqnJufsibnJHK0nKr&oh=00_AYCwuFPehWzf9Rq2rNZ1rtpugeZpjv2Yg41yR47ATjF1dA&oe=6756BDAE	PERSON_PROFILE	0	0	Indulge in story	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,587,788	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2587790}'	No	2024-12-04 20:33	active	1960			INSTAGRAM_MESSAGE	https://www.instagram.com/	Laser Goods By Kat	https://www.facebook.com/lasergoodsbykat/	75	1969-12-31 18:00	Send Message	instagram.com	CAROUSEL		https://www.instagram.com/	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/469039473_1200493415112159_1270719013256195665_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=108&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=0aooeclQQDEQ7kNvgHya1yM&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AvZpZ7yDzW5Wx52aTWspqei&oh=00_AYDc6Q32gL7preG_aBF7m_7NMxPNKenC4VqaMnLpbIpH8A&oe=6756C0C1	PERSON_PROFILE	0	0	Laser Goods By Kat	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,588,605	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	Yes	2024-12-04 20:33	active	1960	Breath + Sound: Radiate into the holidays	Can you feel thie holiday cheer? Come experience the love & compassion that is felt in becoming aware of your breath while surround in sound. Release stagnant energy and BE ready to radiate this holiday season. Join us Monday December 9th at 6pm, Atelier1901 in Plainview for another uplifting Breath + Sound Event #witness #Breath #sound #community #healing #Compassion	BUY_TICKETS	https://awakenwithanna.as.me/?appointmentType=cate	Awaken with Anna	https://www.facebook.com/100088686903975/	174	1969-12-31 18:00	Buy tickets	awakenwithanna.as.me	EVENT	https://awakenwithanna.as.me/?appointmentType=category%3ABreath+%2B+Sound	https://awakenwithanna.as.me/?appointmentType=category%3ABreath+%2B+Sound	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/469286476_1669057143642429_1330551764567531678_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=103&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=y1S0CopyxB0Q7kNvgHGvcT1&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=Al6VpjDtVXuvHEzECq1CgEd&oh=00_AYAksQUSr2hSZw2J3BpR1uHRVAQMxg6IN-cogY3yR9SuHw&oe=6756DF6E	PERSON_PROFILE	0	0	Awaken with Anna	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,588,089	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	Yes	2024-12-04 20:33	active	1960	Simthread 60WT Sewing Embroidery Machine Thread Kit - 40 Colors 1100 Yards Spool for Brother Janome	Simthread 60WT Sewing Embroidery Machine Thread Kit - 40 Colors 1100 Yards Spool for Brother Janome - $62.00 ✅- In stock. 🖱- Select "Buy Now" to purchase. 📦- Brand new item (in box). 🚚- Shipping only. 🦅- Arrives: in 3-7 days. ⭐- Returns accepted: 30 day returns. 👍- Tracking number included. 👋- Feel free to contact me should you have questions. ------------------------------------------- Product Details: 60WT (We mark it as 75D/2 at the bottom of the spool) polyester embroidery thread is lightweight embroidery machine thread, which is the perfect shine sewing thread, with a #9 needle, you can use them for the top threading of your machine, such as a monogram, small font, etc. This stitches out looking like the script, light, and very clear Polyester filament thread is mainly used as embroidery thread. 40 assorted bright and beautiful colors in 1100 Yards each, total 44000 yard, economical and versatile as top thread for many projects. 40 similar Brother Colors are easy to find the colors you need This 60wt fine sewing thread will be the bobbin thread when you doing machine embroidery. It aides well in machine quilting, free hand quilting etc. sews smoothly on most home sewing embroidery machine 100% filament polyester fine bobbin thread for tensile strength and durability, does not leave fibers in the bobbin case, better than common spun fiber thread which is dirty requiring more maintenance on the machine ------------------------------------------- -Shipping only available to continental United States. (48 states) -No international shipping -No shipping to Alaska, Hawaii, Puerto Rico, Guam, or the Virgin Islands -No shipping to Canada or Mexico -No shipping to APO/FPO/DPO -We do not offer local pickup or combined shipping services Facebook Marketplace	BUY_NOW	https://facebook.com/marketplace/item/597785499446	Brett Young	https://www.facebook.com/Brett-Young-101674642441488/	0	1969-12-31 18:00	Buy now		IMAGE		https://facebook.com/marketplace/item/597785499446120/	1969-12-31 18:00		REGULAR_PAGE	1	1	Brett Young	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,587,883	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	No	2024-12-04 20:33	active	1960	1948 Ford Flathead and Extra Parts	1948 Ford Flathead and Extra Parts - $12.00 Massive Live Public Auction Saturday Dec 7th 2850 O'Neal Ave Pueblo CO Doors Open at 8 am Auction Starts at 9 am Cars and Tractor at 1 pm Back Area Goes at 2 pm Preview Friday Dec 6th 12-4 Everything goes at No Reserve BIG Auction with 1966 Mustang Coupe (Beautiful), Kubota Tractor, Side by Side, Golf Cart, Dr Pepper Vending Machine, Dragster, Go Cart, Log Splitter, 2 Post Car Lift, Mechanic Tools, Power Tools, Welders, Paint Machines, Coca-Cola Collectibles, Die Cast Cars and Trucks, Trailer, 1948 Ford Project Car Plus Household Items, Antiques and Collectibles Too Much To List. Facebook Marketplace	CONTACT_US	https://facebook.com/marketplace/item/163209665071	Leah Abigail Napoleon	https://www.facebook.com/Leah-Abigail-Napoleon-103736434364297/	0	1969-12-31 18:00	Contact us		IMAGE		https://facebook.com/marketplace/item/1632096650716919/	1969-12-31 18:00		REGULAR_PAGE	1	1	Leah Abigail Napoleon	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,586,258	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2586255}'	No	2024-12-04 20:33	active	1960	🔞Attention! Do not read in public！👉	When Helena Lane arrived at the police station, dawn had yet to break. Tiny snowflakes swirled in the night wind, melting as soon as they touched the ground, leaving a muddy mess. Two hours earlier, Helena had received news that her newlywed husband, Kenneth Keller, had been arrested on suspicion of assault. Not wanting to alarm her family, she came alone as his lawyer and closest relative. Seated in the visitation room, Helena was focused on cleaning the grayish mud off her high heels when Kenneth entered, escorted by two officers. Seeing her, his eyes flickered with a hint of surprise before he casually slouched into the seat across from her, looking more relaxed than he ever did at home. There wasn’t a hint of panic in his demeanor and certainly no trace of fear. As the heir to one of Greenwick’s most powerful family empires, Kenneth was notorious for his rebellious streak, acting with complete disregard for convention and authority. Fear? It was something others felt around him, not the other way around. Had it not been for the high-ranking officer overseeing the case, he wouldn’t have been here at all, no matter what trouble he caused. Helena stared at him, expressionless, and got straight to the point. “Mr. Keller, care to explain what happened last night?” Kenneth draped his arms over the back of the chair, lazily studying the woman seated opposite him, who looked all serious and professional. Her camel cashmere coat was pressed to perfection, her clear, unblemished face free of makeup, and her low ponytail perfectly in place. She showed none of the anger or panic one might expect from a wife who’d just learned of her husband’s charges. Her demeanor was all business. “And are you asking as the corporate attorney, or…” he let his lips curl slightly, pausing deliberately, then lowered his voice to a murmur, “as my wife?” The low, suggestive tone seemed to linger in the air, but Helena remained unfazed, her gaze cool. “Is there a difference?” He raised an eyebrow. “If you’re here as an attorney, I want a replacement.” He paused, then gave her a sidelong glance, a touch of mischief gleaming in his eyes. “If you’re here as my wife, then you should start by calling me ‘honey.’” Helena glanced at him, completely unamused by the little game he was playing in a situation like this. This was all too typical of him. “If the charges stick, you’ll be looking at three to ten years behind bars.” Helena’s cool voice was laced with sarcasm as she added, “Tired of your fancy feasts, Mr. Keller? Thought you’d try bread and pickles for a change?” Kenneth met her mildly annoyed gaze. He was entirely unfazed and even held a roguish grin. “What, worried about me?” Seeing that Kenneth had no intention of cooperating, Helena, who had only come as a formality, decided not to waste any more time and rose to leave. “This is the police station, Mr. Keller. Talking nonsense here is more troublesome than keeping silent,” she reminded him, urging him not to spout off. “And remember, we signed a prenuptial agreement.” Feelings of attachment had no place in their contractual, paper-thin marriage. Were it not for the fact that he was needed at the South City project bidding event that afternoon—or the concern that his grandmother would worry if she learned of his arrest—she wouldn’t have bothered with him at all. It wasn’t until Helena’s figure disappeared through the door that Kenneth slowly withdrew his gaze. She hadn’t even glanced back, completely indifferent to whether or not he’d assaulted another woman. But then again, to her, their marriage was never real. She’d personally drafted the prenuptial agreement and had never considered him a life partner. In truth, she had never intended for him to play any lasting role in her life. The roguish smile on his handsome face faded gradually. His eyelids lowered, and his eyes held a barely perceptible hint of disappointment. Ten minutes later, Helena found herself outside the interview room, facing the lead officer, Eric Langston. After five years, Eric’s aura was more intimidating than ever, radiating a fierce, unapproachable presence that surpassed even what she remembered. Helena had anticipated seeing Eric at the police station, but when she finally faced him, she paused for a couple of seconds to collect herself. Five years ago, Helena could never have guessed that, Eric, her frugal, hardworking senior—a man she’d worked part-time jobs with—came from a prominent family. That was until Eric’s mother warned her, “A beggar of unknown origin, a stray the Keller family took in, daring to latch onto my son? Take a good look at yourself! “My son has a fiancée—someone whose family background, upbringing, and character make you unworthy to even shine her shoes. Oh, and in case you didn’t know, they’ll be going abroad together soon. “You’d better understand your place and stop shamelessly clinging to my son. Getting rid of someone as low as you is easier than squashing an ant.” Before she turned seven, Helena had been forced to beg on the streets, only to be rescued during a police raid on a human trafficking ring. Since her parents were never identified through the DNA database, she was sent to an orphanage. She grew up used to the scorn of others but never had she felt such raw humiliation. It was as though her dignity had been ripped away, thrown to the ground, and trampled upon. Any feelings she had for Eric vanished completely. If he hadn’t hidden his identity, she wouldn’t have suffered this shame. Out of pride and resentment, she never saw him again after that, even after he graduated. As time went by, Helena realized that Eric’s mother had been behind it all and that she might have directed some of her resentment toward him unfairly. With a polite yet distant smile, Helena broke the silence. “Eric, it’s been a long time.” Eric assessed Helena with an impassive gaze. Seeing her composed demeanor, he raised his brows slightly and nodded. He then turned and entered the interview room first. Helena exhaled deeply, steeling herself as she followed him inside as a witness. Her marriage to Kenneth was a well-kept secret. Aside from close family, no one knew they were married. Kenneth refused to cooperate with the police, adamantly withholding any details about what happened the previous night. Left with no choice, Helena had to implement a backup plan: testifying as his wife. After all, rumor had it that in Wellington's criminal investigations division, Eric was known as the “Judge"—once he set his sights on someone, even the smallest sins from birth would be unearthed. Kenneth, being the reckless type, was bound to have skeletons in his closet. With the South City project at a critical juncture and Kenneth’s role as CEO on the line, this was the worst possible time for a scandal. Moreover, his grandmother's frail health couldn't withstand such a shock. Helena knew she had to protect him, both for professional and personal reasons. Once the deposition was complete, Eric regarded Helena with a complicated expression. “When did you and Mr. Keller get married?” Helena met his intense gaze, feeling a slight ripple in her heart before quickly composing herself. She replied calmly, “Almost a month ago. Would you like to see the marriage certificate?” It had only been a month since Eric had applied for a transfer back to Greenwick. Had it not been for a minor delay in the paperwork... Eric’s gaze darkened, and after a moment, he spoke with difficulty, “Are you certain you were with him the entire night?” After a brief pause, he added, “As a lawyer, you should be aware of the consequences of perjury.” Sensing his doubt, Helena took a deep breath and responded with professional confidence. “According to Article 305 of the Criminal Code, committing perjury is punishable by up to three years in prison or detention. In serious cases, it carries a sentence of three to seven years. "And if a lawyer commits a crime intentionally, their license will be revoked. Which is precisely why my testimony carries even more weight.” Kenneth had been accused of breaking into a hotel room at 12:37 a.m., assaulting a female celebrity, and not leaving until more than two hours had passed. Testifying as his wife, Helena claimed that Kenneth had been home until just before midnight, stepping out only at 11:57 p.m. By her calculations, even in the fastest sports car, it would take at least an hour to reach the hotel from their house. Moreover, she had obtained all surveillance footage from the route Kenneth took after leaving, each clip showing him driving past, proving he had no time to commit the crime. Chapter 0002 "The police retrieved hotel surveillance screenshots that show the perpetrator wearing a mask. Basing suspicion on nothing more than a similar build and hairstyle is clearly insufficient evidence.” Helena’s voice was calm but precise, each word landing with conviction. Eric felt a slight ringing in his ears from her firm tone. Watching her, who was radiating professional confidence, he couldn’t help but recall how she once dominated the debate stage back in college with the same spirit. The secondary officer, noticing Eric’s silence, couldn’t hold back. “The victim identified him personally, and we found DNA that matches Mr. Keller’s—that’s our strongest evidence!” Helena’s sharp, clear gaze didn’t waver; she remained as composed as ever, unshaken. “After more than two hours of alleged assault, not a single fingerprint or any other biological trace was recovered from the victim or the scene. I have every reason to believe Kenneth is being framed.” The secondary officer protested, “What if he knew how to cover his tracks, cleaning the scene thoroughly?” “What if?” Helena’s lips curved slightly, and her eyes held a confident gleam. “What if he wasn’t there at all? It’s the police’s duty to eliminate reasonable doubt; the law doesn’t permit presumption of guilt.” The officer was left speechless, eventually turning to Eric for backup, only to see him staring at Helena in a daze. Unable to resist, he nudged Eric with his elbow. “You…do you really believe him?” Eric finally came to his senses, his voice hoarse as he asked. Helena paused, taken aback. Did she believe Kenneth? Ever since she was adopted by the Keller family at ten, supposedly due to a favorable fortune reading, she had witnessed Kenneth’s defiance and disregard for rules and morals, his actions always based on his whims. But when she received the news of his arrest around three in the morning, even knowing the police had collected his DNA, her first move hadn’t been to go to the station. Instead, she’d instructed someone to look for evidence of his alibi. Subconsciously, when it came to this matter, she actually trusted Kenneth! No matter how he usually acted out, he’d never crossed that line. This realization brought an inexplicable unease to her heart. She averted her gaze from Eric and said softly but firmly, “I only trust the evidence.” Eric watched her, remaining silent for a long time. With the alibi evidence presented, Kenneth’s suspicion was reduced. Given his influential status, the police had no choice but to grant Helena’s request for bail. “Someone actually managed to wrest a detainee from the captain’s hands—looks like we’re in for a miracle,” murmured an officer. "Miss Lane works for the legal department at Keller Corporation, doesn’t she? She’s not only beautiful but also impressively skilled with criminal cases—definitely worth a second look." "She’s actually two years his junior—they’re both alumni. With all her achievements, how did they not know each other back then?" Eric stood by the window, the officers' murmurs buzzing in his ears, his sharp gaze fixed on the scene below. The tall, commanding figure of a man walked out of the police station, following a slender woman. From behind, they looked like a perfect match, though it stung to watch. Eric’s hands, hanging at his sides, clenched instinctively. Memories from five years ago surfaced vividly. At graduation, his family arranged for him to study abroad. Before leaving, he asked Helena to meet him, intending to confess his feelings. If she was willing, he’d take her with him; he’d even secured a spot for her at the same school. But from evening until dawn, he waited for five long hours. Helena never showed, and then she blocked his number. Unable to let go, he sought her out that night, only to witness Helena stepping out of Kenneth’s car, her clothes disheveled. Sensing his presence, Kenneth shifted to block her view, shielding her as they headed toward the house. One of Kenneth’s security guards quickly covered Eric’s mouth and dragged him to the side entrance. Eric struggled, desperate to confront Helena and find out what had happened but was met with Kenneth’s unrestrained fist. "She’s mine. Try to get close to her again, and I don’t care if your last name’s Langston—I’ll end you life." After that night, every attempt Eric made to see Helena was thwarted by Kenneth. Finally, Kenneth “accidentally” called him, letting him hear Helena say she didn’t want to see him and never would. Eric had given himself five years to let go, yet he still couldn’t. But now, he had come back only to find he was one step too late! Back then, Eric sensed that Helena had feelings for him. Taking a deep breath, he suppressed the surge of resentment and resisted the urge to rush down and pull Helena away. Kenneth, initially following leisurely behind Helena, suddenly quickened his pace as they approached the car, as though sensing something. He wrapped an arm around her, his touch overly intimate. Helena’s body went rigid, and she instinctively tried to push him off with a frown. "What’s gotten into you now?" "Didn’t sleep all night—can’t walk straight," Kenneth replied, completely unbothered, practically leaning his full weight onto her shoulder. Helena muttered, “Serves you right,” under her breath. Realizing they were almost at the car and that she couldn’t budge him, she gave up and resigned herself to dragging him along like a dead weight. Fortunately, ever since Kenneth had pushed her into the fountain when she was twelve, she’d kept up with self-defense training over the years, enough to prevent him from easily knocking her over. Finally reaching the car, Kenneth, in a rare moment of consideration, opened the door for her and even held a hand above the frame to protect her from bumping her head. Helena eyed him warily. “What are you up to now?” From the first day she’d met Kenneth, she’d learned that the prettier the smile, the more dangerous the person. "I'm Kenneth Keller; you can call me Ken!" Helena had never seen such a beautiful boy before. Standing in the sunlight, he looked like a porcelain doll that glowed. His bright smile eased some of her nervousness at being in her new home. She shyly placed her hand in his. But the next moment, his smile turned malicious and dangerous. She felt something slimy squirm in her palm, and when she looked down, a small green snake was flicking its tongue at her. Horrified, Helena fainted instantly. He was worse than the kids who bullied her back at the orphanage. As Kenneth grew older, his methods of teasing and tormenting Helena became endlessly inventive. Helena went from feeling nervous and afraid to a constant state of vigilance, learning to gauge the level of danger just by reading his expressions and movements. Just like now. Her entire body tensed, ready to respond at any moment. Kenneth’s roguish grin spread across his finely sculpted face, softening with an unusual gentleness. “Coming all the way here early in the morning to rescue me from 'Judge Langston'—thanks for the effort, honey.” Helena held his gaze for a few seconds, assessing the threat level. Confirming it was low, she mentally deactivated her alert. She rubbed her arms discreetly, trying to shake off the goosebumps, then leaned down and got into the car. Kenneth shut the door for her and made his way around to the passenger side. Before getting in, he shot a smug, defiant grin and lifted his brows at a particular window of the police station, oozing satisfaction. “Where did you actually go last night?” Helena finally asked after they’d driven a fair distance from the station. Though she’d found enough evidence to prove Kenneth didn’t have time to commit the crime, the police had still found his DNA at the scene, a fact that couldn’t be overlooked. Without clearing up this detail, his suspicion wouldn’t fully dissipate. Knowing his movements would allow Helena to defend him more effectively and prevent further police scrutiny. Kenneth reclined lazily in his seat, adopting his usual indifference. He shot back with her own words, “Did you forget about the prenuptial agreement you drafted yourself, Miss Lane?” No interference. No questions. It was the most crucial clause in their marriage agreement, second only to asset division—the very foundation of their contractual union. “Mr. Keller, I have no intention of prying into your private life,” Helena said, keeping her eyes on the road as she gripped the steering wheel, patiently explaining, “Right now, you’re only out on bail. The police haven’t dropped their suspicions. Knowing your whereabouts last night is the only way to clear you.” Kenneth suddenly sat up, turning to study the sharp lines of her profile. His eyes flickered slightly, and his voice held a faint, almost undetectable trace of tension. “Do you…believe I didn’t do it?” Chapter 0003 Helena ignored Kenneth’s odd look and said coolly, "What kind of woman could you possibly not get, Mr. Keller? You don’t need to stoop to something so low." In terms of looks, wealth, and power, Kenneth was a constant presence in the country’s top three "Most Eligible Bachelors" lists. Women who fawned over him numbered in the thousands. A month ago, on that fateful night when he’d let his guard slip—an infatuated woman had drugged him, leading to an unexpected encounter with a drunken Helena. Kenneth scoffed and settled back into his seat, smirking. “Since you know me so well, Miss Lane, why don’t you take a guess at where I was last night?” Helena frowned slightly. “Mr. Keller, your lack of cooperation will only prolong the police investigation.” “And so what?” Kenneth scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Are you worried the police will dig too deep, or are you more concerned that someone else might come up empty-handed?” Realizing he’d let slip more than he intended, Kenneth quickly shifted his focus, glancing at the upcoming intersection. “Take a left here and drop me off at the Starlight Club.” Ignoring his veiled jabs, Helena kept her tone professional. “The afternoon’s bidding event is important. You’ll need to attend in top form.” Without a word, she continued driving in the opposite direction, away from the club. Kenneth was silent for a moment, then lifted his gaze with a wry smile. “Miss Lane, are you planning to breach the marriage agreement? Because if that’s the case, then I could ask you to fulfill certain marital duties.” Screech! The car came to an abrupt halt. The white sedan quickly reversed direction and headed straight for Greenwick’s largest entertainment club. When Kenneth chose to be reckless, nothing—not even a contract—could rein him in. The only reason he upheld their agreement was that Helena had followed it to the letter. If she broke it, what right did she have to expect him to do the same? Though Kenneth was unpredictable, he never shirked his responsibilities. After a night out and a morning spent at Starlight, he still showed up impeccably dressed and right on time for the afternoon bidding event. But as soon as it ended, he vanished once again. Helena was on her way back to the office when she received a call from Kenneth’s grandmother, Rachel Wilson. “Helena, the bidding event is over, right? Don’t forget to come home with Kenneth for dinner tonight!” That was when it hit Helena—it was the end of the month. The Keller family rule required every family member in Greenwick to return home for dinner on the last day of the month, no matter how busy they were. Kenneth never took that family rule seriously; it was always up to Helena to remind him. This time, however, she’d been too busy reviewing bid documents and dealing with Kenneth’s issues at the police station that morning, so the reminder had slipped her mind. Not wanting to disappoint Rachel, Helena reluctantly called Kenneth three times. But he didn’t answer his phone. Kenneth was too independent to tolerate bodyguards trailing him. His protection detail consisted of covert security, hidden and discreet. Helena hesitated, ultimately deciding not to ask them for his whereabouts. They only answered to Kenneth, and they might not tell her anyway. Besides, if he found out she’d been trying to track him down, who knew what kind of reaction she’d face? Left with no choice, Helena headed to the Starlight Club on the off chance he’d be there. It seemed her luck was in her favor. She had been to the club a few times before with her friend, Miranda Cook, so the manager recognized her. Upon learning she was looking for Kenneth, he graciously offered to pass along the message. After a few minutes, the manager returned, looking pale, and shook his head apologetically. "Miss Lane, I’m sorry, but Mr. Keller said he’s unavailable." Helena lowered her gaze, keeping her expression unchanged. When the manager had opened the door to enter, she’d caught a quick glimpse inside. In the room, a sultry woman in a skimpy outfit was moving suggestively to the music, clinging to a pole in a dance. She hadn’t seen Kenneth directly, but with such a lively atmosphere, it was clear he wasn’t short of female company. So, he was irritated that she’d interrupted his fun. Helena offered the manager a polite smile, slipped him a few bills from her wallet as a tip, and left the club, heading back to her car. “Five minutes. If you don’t come down by then, I’m leaving. You can explain yourself to Grandma.” Helena pulled out her phone, found Kenneth’s profile picture, and quickly sent him a message. The last text she’d sent him was a month ago, forwarding the marriage agreement, to which he’d replied with a curt “Whatever.” After hitting send, she set a five-minute countdown on her phone, leaned back in her seat, and closed her eyes to rest. Kenneth had been raised by Rachel and held a deep respect for her. Helena had once overheard someone joking, “Kenneth Keller fears nothing and no one—except a call from his grandmother.” While an exaggeration, there was truth to it. Kenneth, like an untamed stallion, answered to no one… except Rachel. Sure enough, with five seconds left on the countdown, the passenger door flew open. As Kenneth slid into the car, a blast of icy wind rushed in, making Helena shiver as her eyes snapped open. “Grown some nerve, haven’t you? Threatening me now?” Kenneth’s eyes narrowed even further, his gaze sharp and dangerous. Before Helena could respond, her phone’s alarm went off. It was the countdown reminder. She casually switched it off and started the car. “You flatter me, Mr. Keller. I didn’t mean to ruin your fun, but today is a special case. After all, Grandma is waiting for you.” Kenneth’s frustration turned to a bitter smile as he replied with a mocking tone, “Too bad your last name isn’t Keller. Otherwise, people might think you’re her real grandchild.” With a frustrated exhale, he slammed the passenger door shut, making the car jolt slightly as it pulled away from the curb. The biting chill that had entered quickly faded, replaced by the warmth of the car’s heater—set to full, just the way Helena liked it in the cramped space since she hated the cold. Helena kept her hands steady on the wheel, stealing a quick sideways glance at Kenneth. The dim overhead light cast a warm, amber glow over his sculpted profile, softening the sharp lines of his face and adding an unreadable depth to his eyes. She lowered her gaze, instinctively avoiding any unnecessary confrontation. When Rachel chose Helena from the orphanage, she’d been explicit about her intentions: adopting and supporting Helena was all for the benefit of her grandson, Kenneth. Helena was to be his subordinate, his friend, his partner, and possibly even his wife. But not even Rachel could have predicted that Kenneth would see Helena as a rival. From her first day in the Keller family, Kenneth had made it his mission to give Helena a hard time. Initially, Helena thought her presence was unwelcome and that perhaps he genuinely disliked her. Later, she realized it was jealousy driving him. He resented her for the affection Rachel showed her, feeling as if she had stolen his exclusive bond with Rachel. Once Helena understood that, she stopped trying to earn Kenneth’s approval and kept her distance as much as possible. Her path was clear: to be Kenneth’s loyal subordinate, protect him, and repay the Keller family’s support and care. Everything unfolded as she planned. After graduating from college, she joined Keller Corporation’s legal department, shielding Kenneth’s reckless behavior and ensuring he maintained his CEO position. But everything changed the night they, both drunk, slept together—and were caught by Rachel. To ease Rachel’s worries, Kenneth approached Helena with a proposal for a contractual marriage. In exchange, once the timing was right, they would divorce, and she would be free to live her life as she pleased. Freeing herself from the burden of the Keller family’s debt was something Helena secretly yearned for; deep down, she had no desire to remain entangled with Kenneth. But then, just as they were settling into the marriage, Rachel fell ill, diagnosed with a terminal condition after being hospitalized from the initial shock. To ease Rachel’s mind, Helena agreed to Kenneth’s proposal. Though she wasn’t Rachel’s biological granddaughter—and Rachel’s decision to adopt her had been partly self-serving—over the years, Helena had felt genuine love and care from Rachel. In her heart, she had come to see Rachel as her only family in the world. Not wanting to leave any regrets behind for her, Helena resolved to make this contract marriage appear as genuine as possible. Until the end, she would maintain the pretense of playing the role of a devoted wife to give Rachel peace. Chapter 0004 At the entrance of the Keller Estate. After Helena parked the car, Kenneth silently stepped out. Seeing this, Helena quickly got out as well and hurried to follow. They had to put on a complete act in front of Rachel, pretending to be a deeply affectionate couple. Fortunately, Kenneth kept his composure. Just as they approached the main gate, he paused for a brief moment. Seizing the opportunity, Helena stepped forward, gently wrapping her hand around his arm. Kenneth’s movements stiffened slightly. He slowly lowered his gaze, eyeing her slender hand resting on the crook of his arm. Helena took a deep breath, lifted her gaze, and smiled at him. “For Grandma’s sake, please bear with me, dear husband.” “Likewise.” Kenneth’s thin lips curved slightly, his tone carrying a hint of mockery. “Thank you for your hard work, dear wife.” After a brief pause, he lifted his other hand and firmly pressed down on the back of Helena’s hand, giving her a meaningful smile before striding forward. Caught off guard, Helena stumbled slightly, managing to steady herself after a moment. Yet, his smile left her heart racing, filled with unease. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Kenneth was quietly plotting something again! The Keller Estate was a traditional classical manor, elegant and refined, crafted with ingenuity. The architecture lay nestled by hills and waters, with layered courtyards and pavilions. Helena and Kenneth followed the servant for a while before arriving at the main dining hall. Inside the brightly lit dining hall, the large mahogany dining table, intricately carved, was already surrounded by family members. The Keller family of Greenwick had nearly a century of history, but by Kenneth's grandfather's generation, the line had dwindled to just two sons and a daughter—none of whom had lived up to expectations. Kenneth’s grandfather, Walter Keller, had three children, each a disappointment in their own way. The eldest son was rebellious, storming out of the family home after Walter opposed his marriage to a mysterious dancer. Since that day, he vanished without a trace. The second son, Kenneth’s father, Raymond Keller, made his escape with a mistress, choosing to leave on the rainy night of Kenneth’s third birthday, only to meet his end in a car accident. Walter’s only daughter went abroad for school, fell for a delinquent, and chose to sever ties with her family rather than return. Hurt by his children, Walter grew indifferent toward Kenneth, instead investing his hopes in the extended family’s descendants. Near the end of his life, he nearly handed over the Keller family assets to his nephew. But Rachel intervened decisively. Leading a team of lawyers, she reclaimed control over the Keller family, defying opposition to appoint Kenneth as CEO of Keller Corporation. However, in the years Walter had been lenient, the extended family had embedded themselves within the Keller Corporation, securing key positions in various critical departments. Now and then, they continued their schemes, still aiming to wrest control of Keller Corporation from Kenneth. Rachel was fully aware of everything, but her age left her with limited strength; all she could do was maintain the delicate balance between Kenneth and the extended Keller family. In the banquet hall, only the members of the extended family were seated alongside Rachel. The head seat remained vacant, and the tableware set, as always, was reserved for Walter. Rachel, who had been listlessly listening to their complaints, brightened as soon as she saw Kenneth and Helena enter. Her eyes sparkled as she beckoned them over with a smile. "Ken, Lena, you're back! Come, have a seat!" The relatives who had been talking with Rachel were visibly displeased at being ignored, despite their attempts to hide it. Kenneth, however, appeared oblivious, leading Helena with confidence to sit beside Rachel. Leaning in, he whispered something to Rachel that had her laughing with joy, her gaze shifting periodically to Helena’s abdomen. Helena’s unease only grew stronger. With Rachel present, she couldn’t say anything directly, so when Kenneth turned to look at her, she shot him a warning look to stay quiet. He merely smirked with a laid-back, roguish grin, which made her grit her teeth and glare at him with even more frustration. To onlookers, however, this seemed like an affectionate exchange, with the young couple exchanging flirtatious glances. Not only had they kept everyone waiting, showing up late to the family dinner without so much as an apology, but they were now putting on a show of intimacy, clearly not taking the others seriously. Recalling Kenneth's usual audacious demeanor, the uncles were increasingly irritated. Kenneth’s eldest relative, Jerome Keller, was the first to break the silence. “I thought the bidding meeting for the South City project ended this afternoon. Did you two go off to a celebration party afterward?” With Jerome setting the tone, other relatives quickly chimed in. "What celebration could possibly be more important than a family dinner? Ken, we may overlook certain things you do outside, but traditions passed down through generations deserve respect." “Helena, Grandma has spent years teaching and guiding you, yet instead of keeping Ken in check, you go along with his antics. You’re letting her down!” Subtle verbal jabs came at her from all directions. Helena, long accustomed to this, kept her gaze lowered and ignored their insinuating remarks, turning a deaf ear to the sharp-edged words aimed her way. After all, with Kenneth here, he would be the one to handle these people when things got out of control. Sure enough, in the next instant, Kenneth's smile vanished. He suddenly hurled the expensive teacup in his hand, sending it crashing across the room. The sharp sound of shattering porcelain echoed through the banquet hall, creating an atmosphere of intense pressure that radiated from him, silencing everyone in an instant. Even the small child in someone's arms was too frightened to make a sound. “Celebration dinner, family dinner—it doesn’t matter. If there’s food, just eat and be content, but know your limits. Otherwise, I have plenty of ways to make what you eat go right back out. “The biggest rule in the Keller family is that there are no rules. Otherwise, none of you would be here making pointless remarks. “Neither I nor Grandma see any issues with Helena being the next matriarch, yet you all feel entitled to judge. If you’re so eager to critique, should I air some of your dirty laundry so we can all evaluate each other?” Kenneth crossed his arms and leaned back, one leg resting casually over the other, his gaze lingering on Jerome for a moment before sweeping lazily around the room. His expression was like that of a grim reaper in idle contemplation, deciding which one of them he might claim next. The unfiltered suggestion, the blatant sarcasm—even an obvious challenge glimmered in his eyes. Hearing the implication behind his words, the extended members of the family felt both offended and afraid, their discomfort evident as they instinctively looked toward Jerome for direction. "Ken, we’re your elders, just offering reminders for your own good and for the family’s sake," Jerome replied, holding Kenneth’s sharp gaze for a moment before shifting to Helena. "Since we're on the topic of secrets, why don’t we let Helena explain why she was at the police station this morning?" At that, Helena’s heart skipped a beat. She’d received a call from the police that morning and had promptly informed the PR department to keep the news tightly contained. Yet somehow, Jerome knew she had gone to the police station that morning! Helena instinctively glanced at Kenneth, only to find him seated there, arms crossed, a faintly amused look in his eyes as he noticed her gaze. Years of understanding between them meant that with just one look, Helena grasped his intention. He was subtly hinting at Jerome’s embezzlement, deliberately provoking him by implying he could make him spit it back out. Jerome, who had never taken Kenneth seriously, wasn’t one to tolerate a threat and quickly struck back. But in doing so, he unwittingly exposed his weakness. Yet Kenneth had used her as bait without warning, setting her up as part of his ploy to corner Jerome! Helena clenched her fists discreetly, gritting her teeth in silence. Her instincts hadn’t let her down—Kenneth was definitely up to something, setting this trap with her squarely in the middle of it. She knew he was about to throw her under the bus, yet she had no choice but to play along, as if she were a willing partner in the scheme. It was maddening! If not for Rachel’s presence, Helena truly would have loved to walk out and let Kenneth handle this on his own. Sensing the tension, Rachel looked over anxiously and asked, “Lena, is everything alright?” “Grandma.” Helena took a deep breath, calming herself before gently patting Rachel’s hand with a reassuring smile. “If something was wrong, would I still be here sitting beside you?” Rachel still seemed unconvinced and glanced at Kenneth, who nodded lazily with a faint smile, which finally put her at ease. Taking advantage of the moment, Helena shot Kenneth a quick glare before turning back, her expression subtly mocking as she looked at Jerome. “Uncle Jerome, I didn’t expect you to be so concerned about me, knowing my whereabouts in such detail. To an outsider, it might look as if you’d had someone tailing me!” Helena indirectly called out Jerome’s surveillance, tossing the ball back into his court with effortless poise. “As your niece-in-law, I may not be the brightest, but I truly don’t understand what you’re implying. Why don’t you clarify what exactly it is that I’ve done that’s so questionable?” Chapter 0005 Jerome knew he’d misspoken, yet he hardly cared that Helena had caught him slipping. “This morning, you rushed off to the police station—wasn’t it to reconnect with that new captain of the station, Eric Langston?” Helena’s heart skipped a beat. Not only was Jerome fully aware of her whereabouts, but he also knew she was acquainted with Eric. She’d underestimated Jerome. After all, when she met Eric seven years ago, he was reserved and unapproachable, always keeping his distance from others. Moreover, his mother had erased all traces of her connection with Eric to remove the stain she posed on their family, clearing all records and keeping everything well-hidden. Almost no one knew that she and Eric had been familiar with each other, let alone shared a faintly ambiguous past. If Jerome had the means to uncover her connection with Eric, he could just as easily find out why Kenneth had gone to the police station. Hinting at an old flame between her and Eric was clearly an attempt to drive a wedge. If she didn’t deny it, Rachel would naturally start to doubt her relationship with Kenneth. And even if Kenneth knew the truth, Jerome’s words would plant seeds of suspicion in his heart that would, over time, lead to cracks. On the other hand, denying it would inevitably drag up the accusations of assault against Kenneth. If Rachel found out, it would not only make her question their story of falling in love over time and choosing to marry but also leave her disappointed in Kenneth. Jerome would then seize the opportunity to make even more outrageous demands. "Uncle Jerome, you really give me too much credit." Helena’s mind raced, though her expression remained unreadable. "If I actually had any history with Mr. Langston, I’d certainly have asked him to treat you a bit more courteously before your visit." Jerome’s pupils contracted, and his expression, like a fractured mask, began to crack silently. Eric’s position was indeed unique, and Jerome had specifically arranged a visit to him on the first day he arrived in Greenwick. There were countless people eager to meet him, and Jerome had struggled through numerous attempts just to secure an appointment. When they finally met, Eric’s demeanor was cold and cutting, his gaze sharp and distant, as though he’d seen right through Jerome’s intentions from the start. In an attempt to bridge the gap, Jerome had mentioned Helena, who had once been Eric’s schoolmate. Unexpectedly, what was initially supposed to be a brief five-minute meeting turned into a half-hour conversation with Eric. And just last night, despite the gravity of the incident surrounding Kenneth—witnesses and evidence stacked against him—Helena had still managed to bail him out from the station. After all, Eric wasn’t just any officer; he was known as the "Judge." Sensing an opportunity, Jerome had dropped hints in front of everyone, trying to gauge Helena’s relationship with Eric, hoping it would strain her connection with Kenneth. Without Helena’s support, he was certain Rachel would eventually see Kenneth as the reckless badboy he truly was. At that point, they could employ a few well-planned moves to seize everything from the Keller family. Yet Jerome hadn’t anticipated that young Helena would maintain her composure so well, even managing to turn the tables on him. The Kellers had strict rules: family members could pursue either business or government, but never both. His secret meeting with Eric was already a breach of those family principles. Noticing the scrutinizing looks from the other relatives, particularly the sharp stares from Rachel and Kenneth, Jerome felt a pang of unease, uncertain how Helena had learned of his visit with Eric. His chest tightened as he gritted his teeth and pressed on, “So if it wasn’t to catch up with Mr. Langston, why did you rush to the station first thing this morning?” Before Helena could respond, she sensed something amiss and instinctively stood to shield Rachel. A loud bang erupted in the next instant. Kenneth, without warning, flipped the entire dining table in Jerome’s direction. Jerome had no time to dodge as dishes, utensils, and food crashed down onto him. A plate of green vegetables landed squarely on his head, resembling a makeshift hat perched on his hair. Ignoring Jerome’s disheveled appearance and the twisted fury on his face, Kenneth leaned back in his seat, casually wiping his fingers. His movements were graceful, his expression relaxed as if he were seated in a tranquil riverside pavilion, leisurely listening to a distant melody. “It seems the Keller family meal doesn’t suit everyone’s taste,” Kenneth said, his voice calm. “In that case, no one needs to eat.” He paused briefly before adding, “And as for the end-of-month family dinner tradition, it’s time we canceled that as well.” With a casual wave, his private guards and bodyguards emerged, promptly escorting all extended relatives out of the estate. Rachel looked on, momentarily stunned, before giving Kenneth a disapproving glance. “Ken, you’ve managed to offend all your relatives.” Kenneth raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “They openly disrespected me. Did they really think they wouldn’t offend me?” Beside him, Helena felt her eye twitch. Would it ever end? He’d clearly wanted to cancel the end-of-month dinner for a while and had finally found his excuse, all under the pretense of “protecting” her. Rachel’s gaze shifted between Helena and Kenneth, her expression softening as she smiled knowingly. “Seeing how well you two get along really puts my mind at ease!” “Well, since you’re at ease, how about cooperating with the doctor and focusing on getting better?” Kenneth stepped forward, gently holding Rachel’s arm, while his other hand reached around to brush Helena’s cheek, his eyes on her. “What do you say, darling?” Though filled with frustration, Helena had no choice but to offer a sweet smile and nod. With an exaggerated sigh, Rachel looked longingly at Helena. “Ah, if I could just hold a great-grandchild in my arms, I’d be content even in death!” Helena’s mind immediately flashed back to Kenneth’s earlier whispered words to Rachel, which had made her repeatedly glance at Helena’s abdomen. He must have said something he shouldn’t have! After hesitating for a few seconds, she couldn’t bear to let Rachel down and spoke gently, “Grandma, as long as you take care of yourself, I’m sure that day will come.” Rachel beamed with joy at Helena's response. Since the family dinner had been cut short, Rachel instructed the staff to bring out fresh dishes. With Helena and Kenneth accompanying her, she enjoyed an extra small plate of pasta, a rare treat, and asked them both to stay overnight at the estate so they could join her for breakfast in the morning. Kenneth, evidently too tired to return to the Starlight Club for his usual late-night revelry, surprisingly agreed. Helena, with no other choice, stayed as well. They returned to the room Rachel had prepared for them. The spacious room was decorated with romantic touches, and in the soft glow of flickering candles, the atmosphere felt thick with unspoken tension. The bed, draped in pure white sheets, was scattered with red roses arranged in a large heart shape, their rich fragrance filling the air. Helena and Kenneth exchanged glances, both speechless. She quickly found the light switch and turned on the overhead lights. The bright light dispelled much of the room's suggestive atmosphere. Helena turned to Kenneth, choosing a decidedly unromantic topic. "Do you think Jerome had anything to do with the false accusations against you?" Though phrased as a question, there was a tone of certainty in her voice. Kenneth didn’t respond. Instead, he looked down at her with a cold, assessing gaze. “Mr. Langston—he’s still lingering around you, isn’t he?” Seeing she didn’t immediately respond, he pressed on bluntly, as if worried she might misunderstand his meaning. “If you’re truly interested in rekindling things with him, just say so. There’s no need to sneak around behind my back.” Kenneth was one of the few who knew about her past with Eric. His use of the word "rekindling" was laced with sarcasm. Helena couldn’t stand it anymore and snapped, “Kenneth, what’s gotten into you? Haven’t I played along enough with all your schemes?” Kenneth met her gaze, which was now blazing with anger, and seemed momentarily at a loss. After a couple of seconds, he responded in a low voice, “I just don’t want to be blindsided with a betrayal like tonight.” Thinking of Jerome’s earlier provocations, Helena took a deep breath, about to reassure Kenneth. But an inexplicable sensation began to rise within her—a warmth that felt like a spark, ready to spread like wildfire through her body. Sensing something was off, she looked up at Kenneth, only to find his face slightly flushed, his intense gaze fixed on her. In the depths of his eyes, there was a fierce, flickering heat as if a flame had been ignited and was burning wildly.	LEARN_MORE	https://beokn.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=15543&ut	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61559743679549/	323	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	beokn.com	DCO		https://beokn.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=15543&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}&placement={{placement}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/466919986_534033072870870_7540673277837274692_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=102&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=leirMGrOFwYQ7kNvgGgfQz0&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AQlix74y3zBm0d9HdSEceXS&oh=00_AYAKwID8N1TODdYwrS0GOHDvr0NV4SBNHXRBkthQbqJVfg&oe=6756D8D2	PERSON_PROFILE	0	0	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,586,603	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2586568}'	No	2024-12-04 20:33	active	1960	🔞Attention! Do not read in public！👉	After a tragic accident left Emily Yates without her memories, she fell in love with her savior, Justin Yates, unaware that he was hiding the truth and using her as a stand-in for his first love. For three long years, Emily poured everything into the relationship, hoping he would love her back. But on the day Justin proposed, he held his "one true love" in his arms and left Emily stranded on a foreign street, still expecting her to remain his secret mistress. * “Didn’t I tell you to go home? Why are you still here?” Justin’s voice dripped with disdain and impatience, as if his irritation had taken on a life of its own. Emily stood her ground, unafraid. She needed answers. “You proposed to me in Merika State just 16 hours ago, but now you’re holding another woman and completely ignoring me. And you’re not even coming home? Staying out all night?” “Stop being unreasonable. Leave. Now,” he ordered, his voice cold and commanding, his gaze on her as though she were an unruly employee who had crossed the line. Emily wasn’t leaving without answers. “You think I’m being unreasonable? I’m your fiancée. You left me on the street in a foreign country to carry another woman away without a second thought. Did you ever consider how I felt? “I’ll go, but only if you leave the hospital with me. There are doctors and nurses here to care for that woman. Right now, you’re coming home with me.” Desperate, Emily reached out to grab Justin’s arm. But before she could make contact, her arm was blocked by Justin’s personal bodyguard, William Carter. Emily was stunned, unable to believe what she was seeing. It felt as though her heart was being torn in two. “What do you mean by this?” Emily’s voice trembled, mirroring the unease in her heart. Justin didn’t respond. He stared at her with cold, detached eyes, as if she were a stranger and not the fiancée he had just proposed to. Finally, he spoke, his words sharp and emotionless. “Don’t be childish.” Childish? Once, he had said he loved how she depended on him, how she claimed him for herself. And now he was calling her childish? “If you want to stay here with her, then what about our marriage? You proposed to me just today!”	LEARN_MORE	https://beokn.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=15056&ut	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61559743679549/	323	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	beokn.com	DCO		https://beokn.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=15056&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}&placement={{placement}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/464744275_1717283745733017_8817052015286460716_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=110&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=dxYNB9XghHIQ7kNvgEYreKp&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=A2qlb5mTM6duP7HZwJQRS2g&oh=00_AYAoyhsAIKnvnez92lvMGK6MVoGuQsI5DV0oGkqcIpvOmg&oe=6756E710	PERSON_PROFILE	0	0	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,586,509	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2586504}'	Yes	2024-12-04 20:33	active	1960	😍Read the next chapters👉	Chapter 1 "You'll have the test results in about an hour." The nurse's smile was gentle and reassuring as she took the vial of blood from Madeline Sanders. Madeline held a cotton swab to her arm and settled into a chair in the waiting area. She was a bit pale, but her eyes sparkled with hope. She had a hunch she was conceived, and that hospital visit was just to make sure. Three years ago, Trevon Gibson was involved in a terrible car crash that left him comatose, with doctors saying he would never wake up. Lydia Sanders, Trevon's high school sweetheart and Madeline's half-sister, did not waste any time and jetted off abroad for her studies. Somehow, Trevon's grandmother—Edith Gibson—figured that Madeline was Trevon's lucky charm and insisted she marry him. The Gibson family promised to care for Madeline's mother, who was lost in her own world of madness. Madeline felt trapped but agreed to the marriage. Little did everyone know that Madeline was secretly in love with Trevon for years. To everyone's surprise, Trevon woke up after the wedding. However, Madeline's joy was short-lived. Trevon's first words to her were icy and calculated. "Out of respect for my grandmother, I'll take you as Mrs. Gibson for three years. When Lydia returns in three years, I will marry her." Madeline had braced herself to play along with that deal, ready to step aside when the time came. However, life threw a curveball a month and a half ago. Trevon stumbled home after drowning his sorrows in wine that day, and Madeline single-handedly managed to drag him inside. Supporting a drunken Trevon was like moving a boulder—each step a battle of strength. Madeline and Trevon could no longer keep themselves upright and crumpled to the floor just inside the front door. Their lips brushed together in the fall, an accidental kiss that sent Madeline's heart racing. Trevon was a notorious germaphobe, avoiding physical contact like the plague. However, that unexpected kiss seemed to unlock something in him, and he leaned in for another. Madeline was caught off guard, but she did not resist. Later, in the quiet aftermath, Madeline could not bear to stay in the bed they shared. She tiptoed around the sleeping Trevon, erasing any trace of what had happened between them. The hospital was a hive of activity, but Madeline felt alone in the crowd. With trembling hands, she opened the lab results. 'Early stage of conceive. Recommend a follow-up ultrasound.' Joy flickered across her face, quickly hidden behind her hand to muffle her giggles. Regardless of the state of her marriage, that baby was a precious gift. She was eager to tell Trevon, her fingers hovering over her phone. However, she hesitated. Trevon's germaphobia was not just about objects—it extended to people. She had seen him scrub his hands raw after a mere handshake. However, wine had loosened his inhibitions that one night. Would he believe the baby was his? Doubt clouded Madeline's mind, bringing a headache and a wave of nausea. She was jostled as a group of doctors in white coats rushed by, nearly sending her phone flying. "Emergency! Please step aside," a nurse said, flashing Madeline a quick, apologetic smile before dashing off. Madeline took a deep breath, watching the commotion unfold. Her gaze drifted to the emergency room doors without much thought. However, in a heartbeat, her eyes widened in shock. Trevon was there, shielding Lydia as they stepped down from the ambulance. He guided her gently onto a stretcher and, with a team around them, made a beeline for the VIP suite. A chilling shiver sliced through Madeline, her knees buckling as she clung to the nearby railing for support. Lydia was back. In the hospital room, the doctor briefed Trevon. "It seems like a mild concussion, but we'll need the test results to be sure." Trevon's expression was serious. "Speed it up. Use the VIP route." Lydia, stretched out on the gurney, smiled weakly at Trevon. "You're always so kind to me." Lydia pouted as she continued, "I wasn't paying attention. Who would've thought a bike bump could lead to a concussion? In Ameristan, people usually slow down on their own." Trevon gave her a fleeting, detached look. A flicker of worry crossed Lydia's face. "Trevon, with Skylandia's tight deadlines, isn't my accident going to set us back a lot?" Skylandia was the latest venture from Trevon's gaming empire, Xystos Tech, and Lydia had returned to lead the art on it. "I won't stay here. I have to get back to work," she declared, attempting to get out of bed. Trevon was quick to intervene, his hand on her shoulder easing her back down. "Don't be childish." As the tender scene unfolded, Madeline watched them outside the VIP room with gritted teeth. Trevon was notorious for his meticulous ways, but he did have a soft spot. He was not always distant. He just saved all his warmth for Lydia. Madeline felt a wave of emotion as she teared up. She touched her nose and fought the tears. Without really knowing why, she found herself pulling out her phone and calling Trevon. In the sterile silence of the hospital room, Trevon's face froze for a moment as he checked his phone, then casually handed it off to his assistant, Simon Taylors. "Tell her I'm tied up in a meeting." Madeline's heart clenched as Trevon's annoyed expression flickered across his face. Simon, moving to the side, answered Madeline's call softly. "Hello, Mrs. Gibson. Mr. Gibson is busy in a meeting. Is there something you need?" Madeline's lips twitched with a defeated smile. "No, it's nothing. I just hit the wrong button." Simon frowned. "Mr. Gibson's schedule is packed. Please be more careful in the future, Mrs. Gibson." The future? Was there even a future to speak of? Lydia, overhearing Simon, gave Trevon a subtle glance. She casually showed off the pink Hello Kitty bandage on her hand. Trevon's eyes snapped to it, his voice laced with a hint of longing. "You still haven't kicked that old habit, I see." Lydia forced a smile. "Well, you know I've always been fond of Hello Kitty." Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to soften. Madeline could not stand it any longer. Clutching her phone, she turned around and left. She thought one night could change things, but it was just wishful thinking. Despite the autumn season, Redenbaugh City was sweltering, and the hospital's air conditioning was cranked up, sending chills down her spine. She felt light-headed, as if she were floating on air. Suddenly, a little boy darted into her path, bumping into her. Madeline's face went pale as she caught the little boy, but in doing so, she lost her footing and tumbled to the ground. The fall sent a chill up her spine, and she held her belly, too afraid to move. The boy, however, started wailing, drawing curious glances from passersby. His mother rushed over and gave him a quick once-over. When she found him unscathed, she pulled him into a tight embrace before turning to Madeline with fury. "Can't you watch where you're going? You ran into my baby! How will you make this right?" Madeline, her mind on the baby she was carrying, bit back her pain and chose not to retaliate. Instead, she made her way to the maternity ward upstairs. The mother was not having it, yanking on Madeline's arm. "You think you can just hit someone and leave?" Madeline, nearly tripping over, turned slightly and offered calmly, "Should we review the security footage?" The woman, clutching her son, stormed off. Madeline felt her vision darken as she clutched her chest. She leaned against the railing, immobilized. In the VIP ward, Lydia gazed at Trevon longingly and leaned in for a kiss. Trevon, who was aloof, felt a wave of nausea as she got close. His vision blurred, and his chest tightened. He flinched and shoved Lydia away. Chapter 2 "Here's the divorce agreement. Take a look." Trevon, fresh from the hospital, confronted Madeline with a request for divorce. The image of Lydia's hurt look lingered in his mind, leaving him with a sense of resignation. His rejection was not just about his aversion to germs. It was also the sudden sickness and weakness that overtook him. He dismissed it as a one-off, which was not worth worrying about. However, faced with Madeline, the discomfort was undeniable. Madeline, still reeling from her hospital visit, was blindsided by the divorce papers laid out before her. It took a moment for her to find her voice, and when she did, it quivered. "Do we really have to end this?" "Yes." Madeline's grip tightened, and the question she could not suppress spilled out. "Is it because Lydia's back?" Trevon loosened his tie, his face turning to stone. "Didn't I make myself clear three years ago?" He had, and she had accepted it. However… "If... Just if..." Madeline hesitated, biting her lip. Trevon was impatient. "Madeline, you can't always want more." She looked up sharply, disbelief etched on her face. Did he think she was haggling over the divorce terms? With several deliberate taps on the table, Trevon continued, "Indeed, you've done everything required of being a wife these past three years. There's a modest place near Johnsrud. It's yours now. That's the best I can do. Don't make me lose respect for you." Madeline's response was trapped in her throat as she smiled bitterly. Three years of marriage, and her reward was a house. Should she be thankful? He was determined to get the divorce over with, by any means necessary. There was no need to mention the baby. It would only complicate how he saw her. She did not need a man whose heart belonged to another. Madeline felt nauseous, feeling like she needed to purge immediately. She crouched down to clutch the bin and gagged, but nothing came up. Trevon watched, his brow furrowed in disbelief. Why did her sickness stir something in him? Was it a mere coincidence? Seeing her ashen face, it was clear she was unwell. Trevor gave Madeline a questioning look. "Are you sick? When did it start? What's wrong?" Madeline felt the urge to throw up but could not, which only intensified her discomfort. Clinging to the trash can seemed like the only thing she could do. At the sound of his question, her fingers tensed uncontrollably. She forced a casual response. "Maybe it's just a cold. No big deal." "Answer me!" His voice turned sharp, sending a jolt through Madeline, and she murmured almost without thinking. "This afternoon, when you were… I'm just feeling a bit of chest tightness, weak limbs, and a touch of nausea. Typical cold symptoms." She did not bring up the hospital visit, quickly labeling it a cold to avoid any wild guesses. The timing and the symptoms lined up perfectly. 'So, it's because we caught a cold at the same time?' Trevon wondered. Madeline finally let go of her resistance. She deliberately avoided the divorce papers on the table and fetched the sour orange she had bought earlier from the fridge. Her mouth was unbearably uncomfortable, and she craved the relief of something sour. After all, she would need some strength in her hand to sign those papers. The moment she took out the sour orange, its tangy scent filled the room. Catching a glimpse of Trevon standing to the side, watching her with a frown, she hesitated before offering, "Want one?" Trevon looked away, clearly uninterested. Madeline chuckled awkwardly. "Sorry, it slipped my mind. You're not into sour stuff." However, as she sliced into the vibrant sour orange and its juicy interior burst with a potent tangy aroma, Trevon seemed unable to look away. Madeline was about to take a bite when she noticed Trevon approaching. His towering presence felt like a wall closing in, making the kitchen feel smaller by the second. Instinctively, Madeline stepped back. "If you don't like it, then I'll just..." Before she could finish, Trevon was at the sink, lathering up with soap, washing his hands with deliberate care three times before reaching for a piece of the sour orange. He scrunched his forehead, eyeing the orange for a long moment before popping it into his mouth. Madeline's jaw dropped in astonishment. However, Trevon did not spit it out. He chewed thoughtfully and swallowed before looking at her seriously. "Next time, make sure the knife's washed three times, okay?" The urge to bite into that tangy orange slice was irresistible. Sure enough, the sour kick seemed to soothe his queasy stomach. It was not just some bug. His nausea had kicked in right after Madeline's, as if he was only sick because she was. What was up with that? Trevon made a mental note to get to the bottom of it. Madeline gave a simple "Oh" in response. They finished the orange together, a moment of closeness they had not felt in three years. After washing her hands, Madeline looked up at Trevon. Sharing that sour fruit seemed to have bridged the gap between them, if only a little. However, their journey together was nearing its end. She murmured, "I'll sign the divorce papers." It was like cashing out after three years. A million and five hundred thousand, and a house to her name. She was coming out ahead. When she was about to sign, Trevon snatched the papers away. "We'll add another house to the deal. Wait for the lawyer's final draft." Madeline nodded, still in a daze. Suddenly, Trevon's phone buzzed and Lydia's whiny voice came through as he picked up the call. "Trevon, when are you coming? I'm bored." Madeline gripped her pen so hard her thumb whitened, nearly snapping it. Trevon ended the call, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door. Madeline stepped forward, her voice tinged with concern. "How am I supposed to explain this to Grandma?" "We'll talk when I'm back," Trevon replied before the door slammed shut behind him. The house, once filled with life, echoed with emptiness. Madeline chuckled at herself, shook off the silence, and went to the kitchen to whip up some noodles. After all, she had to think about the little one growing inside her. A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Expecting Trevon, who might have forgotten something, she swung the door open only to be greeted by unwelcome faces. Madeline's warmth vanished. "What are you two doing here?" Cilix Sanders, her father, smiled and said, "You weren't picking up, so your mom and I thought we'd drop by." Her phone did show a string of missed calls. Ignoring their calls was nothing new, but their sudden visit was unexpected. "My mom's lost her mind, locked up in Sunshine Psychiatric Hospital. Did you forget to visit her, or did you forget she's there?" Skylar Lowe, Madeline's stepmother, stood beside Cilix in her flawless outfit. She looked nothing like someone who had toiled in the fields. However, her sharp and calculative eyes matched her biting tone. "Such disrespect! Where are your manners?" Madeline was furious. If she truly lacked manners, Skylar would have been long gone. It was Skylar's appearance, after all, that had tipped her mother over the edge. However, Madeline had been biding her time, collecting proof. They would all pay, eventually. Pushing down the bile, she asked coolly, "So, what brings you here?" "Let's talk inside," was all they said. Once they were in, Madeline poured water into two glasses, her hands steady as stone. Madeline's calm and compliant facade only fueled Skylar's ego. With an arrogant head tilt, she announced, "Your sister's back in town. It's time you end things with Trevon and give up your title as Mrs. Gibson to her!" Madeline fought the impulse to douse Skylar with water as she gripped the kettle firmly. "Give it up? I'm not following you." Madeline's gaze shifted to Cilix. "You told me when Trevon was in that coma, the company was strapped for cash. Marrying Trevon was the only way to afford my mom's medical bills. I married into the Gibson family for the sake of the Sanders family. How did Lydia end up taking my place as the daughter-in-law of the Gibson family?" Chapter 3 "I was looking out for the Sanders family too," Cilix said as he sipped his water. "The Sanders-Gibson family alliance is crucial. Three years by Trevon's side, and what? No kids, no hold on his heart, no benefits for the Sanders family. Now that Lydia's back, along with her bond with Trevon, these issues will vanish. I can even afford better care for your mother." Cilix's duplicity struck Madeline once more. Madeline countered, "Did you forget why Lydia left the country? Or do you think the Gibsons have forgotten too?" "That's why we're asking you to initiate the divorce with Trevon," Cilix replied. Madeline saw right through their plot. She would step aside, letting Lydia take the lead, and the Sanders family would reap all the rewards. After a tense silence, Madeline broke the ice. "I'm willing to divorce Trevon, but on one condition. I want my mom's shares—the ones she's entitled to." Cilix instantly became furious. Once upon a time, the Sanders family was a picture of unity. Cilix, who came from nothing, married Bella Ziegler—Madeline's mother—and quickly turned his fortune around with a garment factory. However, Bella paid a steep price, severing ties with her own family. It was not until Skylar—previously 'Jolene', with her kids in tow—showed up that Bella realized the magnitude of her mistake. She battled depression for years, and the strain of the revelation only deepened her illness. That was when Cilix dropped the divorce bomb. He played the bankruptcy card during the split, claiming all assets were tied up. Bella was left with scraps. However, once the divorce papers were signed, Cilix's business miraculously bounced back. Ever the opportunist, Cilix kept footing Bella's medical bills, basking in the glow of his newfound reputation. Madeline only pieced it all together as she grew up—her mother had been played. She had been nursing a plan to set things right ever since. The meeting ended with frosty treatment all around. Madeline shut the door behind them, collapsed onto the couch, and lost herself in the darkness outside the window. … Dawn's light crept into the room. Madeline shielded her eyes and took a moment to adjust before getting up reluctantly. Nausea washed over her in an unforgiving wave. Trevon had not come home all night. Madeline's emotions were a mess—resignation laced with a hint of disappointment. However, above all, there was relief. It was as if her decision to let go the day before had freed her from hope. Madeline sank back into the pillows. The click of the electronic lock signaled an arrival at the door. Madeline glanced up, and there was Lydia, swathed in designer elegance, striding in with a smile that could light up the room. "Madeline, it's been ages." Rising slowly, Madeline perched on the edge of the couch, her eyes a storm of loathing. "Who said you could come in? Leave!" Lydia's smile only grew. "Trevon sent me, of course. He spent last night at the hospital with me, then dashed off to work at dawn. He asked me to pick up a suit for him." A shadow crossed Madeline's face. So, Trevon was with Lydia last night. She had waited like a fool on that couch all night long, clinging to his promise. 'We'll talk when I get back.' "You're just like your mother, always the homewrecker," Madeline spat. Lydia's laughter rang out. "Who's the real homewrecker? It's the unloved one. Even the lock's code is my birthday. Trevon's heart is still with me. Madeline, you've been using my birthday to open this door for the past three years. That must sting, doesn't it?" Madeline's eyes flickered, her grip tightening on the blanket. She inhaled sharply before smiling mockingly. "Is technology that archaic where you come from? We've moved on to facial recognition, or fingerprints at the very least. Key codes are a thing of the past." Lydia's smile faltered, her composure slipping for a split second. "Outdated or not, Trevon's word is law." Madeline could not be bothered with petty squabble. Her nausea was getting worse. She gestured toward Trevon's bedroom. "His stuff's in there. Help yourself." With a smug grin, Lydia disappeared into the room and emerged moments later, a bundle of clothes in her arms. Before she took off, she sauntered over to Madeline, flashed her hand, and there it was—a dazzling diamond ring. There was also that cutesy pink bandage on her finger. "My mom says you're dragging your feet on the divorce—kinda funny, don't you think? Trevon's put a ring on it, so why embarrass yourself? Time to get a clue." She leaned in, whispering to Madeline, "Face it, you've never been able to outdo me in anything since we were kids." Old memories came rushing back. Her favorite things, her mentors, her dad, her very home—Lydia had snatched them all away with just a few words. Madeline squinted and swiftly yanked the bandage off Lydia's hand. "You've always been into taking my stuff, huh?" She eyed Lydia's pristine hand and tossed the bandage into the bin with a look of disgust. "Bandages are disposable. Get a new one, and it's as good as ever. However, you know what's really scary about a guy who's been down the aisle twice?" Madeline rose to her feet, locking eyes with Lydia as she smiled slyly. "It's the lingering lessons from his ex. His style, habits, tastes, thoughts—they're all tinged with the ghost of the woman before you. Chew on that. Good luck." "Madeline!" Ignoring her, Madeline grabbed a bag of clothes and thrust it into Lydia's arms. "So long, no need for goodbyes!" Behind the wheel on her way to work, Lydia smacked the steering wheel, Madeline's parting shot replaying in her head. The phone buzzed. Lydia answered with a huff. "What's up with the wake-up call?" Wren Naylor, Lydia's assistant, hesitated before speaking up with caution. "Ms. Sanders, the planning team wants to add an illustrator to the project. They've already picked someone out." "They've what now? Since when does planning get to call the shots on art hires? They really need to stay in their lane." Wren stayed quiet. Lydia bit back her frustration. "Alright, I'm heading to the office soon. I'll sort it out with them." Instead of going to her department when she arrived at the office, Lydia went to the top floor to drop off some clothes for Trevon. Trevon accepted the clothes, but his brow creased in confusion. Lydia felt a twinge of worry. "Something wrong with the clothes?" They were definitely not his usual brand. Madeline would not slip up like that. "Madeline wasn't there when you picked these up?" Realizing the brand mismatch, Lydia understood her mistake. Madeline's earlier words echoed in her head. Lydia bit her lip, looking hurt. "Madeline just handed me these and shooed me out when I arrived. You know she's never been fond of me." She sighed resignedly and continued, "Typical Madeline, knowing you're in a rush and still acting petty with me. Should I run to the store and grab you a new set?" Trevon cut her off. "Don't bother. You've got work to do." Lydia clammed up, stepping back into silence. Trevon let out a quiet sigh. "Don't sweat it. It's not your fault. Clothes are the least of our worries. We've got the Skylandia project to focus on." In just a week, Skylandia would unveil its magical realms to eager eyes, with artistry at its heart. Lydia, fresh from her hiatus, was steering that ship—the crown jewel of the year for Xystos Tech. She knew the drill, but duty called, and she stepped out with a promise to return for lunch. Madeline, alone then, rinsed a handful of cherry tomatoes, trying to quell the unease bubbling inside her. She scrolled through her phone, the barrage of prenatal check-ups looming large and daunting. Midway through her meticulous note-taking, the doorbell chimed. She opened the door to find Simon pulling a long face. Chapter 4 "Mr. Gibson sent me some clothes." Madeline raised an eyebrow. "Again?" Simon's eyes flickered with annoyance as he asked, "Why'd you send Mrs. Yagle's clothes?" Simon referred to Trevon's mom, Riley Yagle—a woman whose kindness was only matched by her absentmindedness. Madeline recalled the ill-fitting, off-brand clothes that Trevon probably ditched without a second thought. "Mr. Gibson says, 'Don't get snippy and hold things up,'" Simon relayed with a hint of sternness. Madeline could not help but chuckle, amused by his blind trust. "Lydia told Trevon I picked out the clothes?" Did Trevon need to believe everything Lydia said? Simon rushed her along. Madeline handed him a fresh set of clothes, but her grip lingered as she responded steadily. "Simon, you've been Trevon's right-hand man for what, three, four years now? Do you realize why you're still at the bottom rung, just an assistant? You're good at sizing people up by their titles, but that's not really a skill an assistant needs. Why don't you take a page from Mr. Harris's book?" Trevon did have a star assistant—Daniel Harris—who was so capable that he was sent overseas to handle big deals. That was when Simon got the call to step in. Simon's face went through a mixture of pale and flushed as he absorbed her criticism. Madeline, who was usually quiet, had just thrown shade in his face. He bit back his retort, finally huffing in annoyance and storming off. Madeline let out a soft laugh, brushing off the encounter. With visiting hours ticking closer, Madeline headed to Sunshine Psychiatric Hospital to see Bella. It was more of a wellness retreat than a hospital, nestled right next to Redenbaugh City's fanciest private clinic. Getting in was not easy, but thanks to the Gibson family pulling strings, Bella got a spot. Madeline wheeled her mom out into the courtyard, catching her up on the week's gossip and happenings. Bella was her usual self—unresponsive and staring off into space. Madeline sighed and took her mom's hand, resting it gently on her belly. "Mom, right here, there's a little one on the way. Even with Trevon talking about divorce, I'm keeping this baby. You've got to come back to us. Who will help me with this little one if you don't?" She nestled against Bella's legs, craving the comfort of her mother's presence. Unseen by Madeline, Bella's eyes flickered—a brief, almost missed flutter. "Madeline?" A voice, laced with surprise, called out for her. Madeline looked up to see a man in a lab coat looking her way. The sun was blinding, and Madeline squinted without recognizing the figure before her. There was something oddly familiar about the silhouette. It was not until he was close that she could see it was Caleb Jabs, her old college friend. With a warm smile, Caleb teased, "Madeline, can't you recognize an old friend after just three years?" He opened his arms for a hug, like nothing had changed. Madeline hesitated, then offered a hand for a handshake instead. Caleb's smile faltered, then returned. "Right, we're not on campus anymore." He shook her hand before releasing it, stealing a glance at the wedding ring on her finger. Through their chat, Madeline learned that he had just returned from overseas and that his uncle was running the local private hospital. Caleb nodded toward Bella with a slight smile. "And who is this?" Madeline's smile vanished. "My mom. She's been like this since she had a breakdown three years ago." A breakdown? It looked serious, as if she had lost all touch with the world. What could have caused it? Caleb pushed down his questions, his heart aching for Madeline. "These past three years must've been tough on you." Madeline seemed more grounded than in her college days, but her eyes were shadowed with concern. Madeline shook her head. "It's time for us to head back." She was not one to bare her soul to just anyone. As she rose to leave, she wobbled slightly. Caleb reached out to steady her. "You're looking a bit pale. Maybe you should get checked out." Madeline steadied herself and took a step back. "It's just low blood sugar. I'm fine." Caleb watched Madeline sidestep with a calm smile, not the least bit ruffled. "Back in college, you were always dealing with low blood sugar. Still battling that, huh? Skipped breakfast today?" He was already taking the wheelchair's handles as he spoke, and Madeline allowed it. They got Bella settled and swapped numbers. Then, Caleb pressed a chocolate bar into her hand. "For your sugar levels, have a bite." Madeline's laughter bubbled up. "Caleb, you still keep chocolate on you after all this time?" "Just a habit," he said with a chuckle. That little piece of chocolate seemed to bridge the gap that had grown between them. "How about lunch? It's already noon." Madeline bit her lip, uncertain. However, Caleb was already tugging her along. "There's this great little place I know nearby. You'll love it." Trevon managed to swing by the hospital after his meeting wrapped up. The doctors gave him a clean bill of health. They suggested bringing Madeline in, thinking she might be the key to why he felt off. He left the hospital with that thought, only to see Madeline and Caleb, all smiles, heading into a cozy diner. Madeline's smile was something new, something he had never seen, and it stopped him in his tracks. He took a moment before climbing into his car. From the driver's seat, Simon caught Trevon in the mirror. "Mr. Gibson, wasn't that Mrs. Gibson? Should we pick her up?" Trevon watched them disappear into the diner, a place he would never dream of entering. "No, let's not," he murmured. Simon arched an eyebrow, shot a look of faint scorn at the diner, and sped off. Trevon was reclining in the back seat, eyes closed, soaking in a moment of peace. A few minutes in, a wave of relief washed over him, leaving him feeling surprisingly refreshed. It took him a moment to realize that he was embodying Madeline's happiness. What could possibly be so special about that little shop to make her that cheerful? However, that sour beef and cabbage soup with noodles they served was exceptional—tangy and invigorating. It had been days since Madeline had enjoyed a meal so thoroughly. She even decided to get an extra serving to go. Caleb chuckled. "Noodles never taste as good reheated. Wait, didn't you love spicy food? What's with the switch?" Madeline smiled. "I haven't really switched. This is just that good." She was known for her love of spicy dishes, and even Trevon, the health nut, had found his tastes swayed by her. It was hard to argue with Madeline's culinary magic. Her cooking was irresistible to most. Back home, Madeline had barely set down her takeout when her phone rang. It was Yeneth Collins, her best friend. "Madeline, I've got some good and bad news." Feeling a bit worn out, Madeline sank into the couch. "Go on." "The good news is that you've been chosen to draw the new character for Skylandia. They've sent the contract over to you already." A spark of excitement flickered across Madeline's face as she reached for her laptop to check her email. "And the bad news?" Yeneth sighed heavily. "Lydia is the new art director for Skylandia. She just got the job today. I wouldn't have pushed you to take this gig if I'd known." Since marrying Trevon right after college, Madeline had not returned to the workforce, finding solace and passion in her art. Her style was distinctive, not exactly mainstream, with a focus on creating captivating illustrations. When Yeneth got involved with Skylandia, she thought Madeline's artwork was a perfect fit and put her name forward. Madeline smiled. "No way. The contract's terms are decent. Can't miss an opportunity of making money just because of her." She was always hustling for cash, especially with Bella's medical bills piling up. It meant biting her tongue whenever the Sanders family got tight-fisted. "Are you sure you're okay with this?" "Totally. I freelance under the name 'Lily Mora'. Who will connect the dots?" Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a door swinging open as Trevon walked in. Chapter 5 Madeline's instinct was to snap her laptop shut. "Give me a second." She quickly ended the call and turned to face Trevon. "What's got you home at this hour?" Trevon eyed her hurried movements and washed his hands before replying, "Just needed to pick something up." Madeline responded with a noncommittal hum. His gaze landed on a nearby takeaway box. It was the sour beef and cabbage soup with noodles. It looked just like the one she had had for lunch. Was it really that tasty? A jolt of panic hit Madeline, and she blurted out, "It's for Yeneth, not me." Back when they were newlyweds, Madeline had grabbed some street sausages, and Trevon had gone into a tailspin, bombarding her with articles about the filth of street vendors and the dangers of eating out. Since then, she had avoided eating street food around him. However, she had slipped up and forgotten to stash the evidence. Trevon's chuckle was detached as his eyes drifted to a notebook on the table. Madeline's heart was pounding, and she pushed aside the wave of nausea to dash toward the notebook—her secret journal of conceive appointments. The last thing she wanted was for Trevon to find out she was expecting. However, Trevon was quicker. He stretched out his arm and lifted the notebook from Madeline's reach. Without regard for her protests, he calmly flipped it open. The 'Prenatal Appointment Schedule' header stared back at him. He raised an eyebrow, his cool gaze landing on Madeline. Madeline felt her heart jump into her throat. "Is this for Yeneth, too?" Trevon asked. "Huh?" Caught off guard, Madeline quickly nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Yeneth's getting married, thinking about having kids, so I was helping her research." Trevon's suspicion did not wane. "So, why the panic?" Madeline's forehead creased. She let go of the notebook and looked away. "I didn't want you to think I was up to something." Madeline's beauty was marred by her recent illness. Her pale face was then tinged with the flush of sickness, making her look even more vulnerable. Trevon felt a twinge in his chest, and his annoyance grew. Her cold was messing with his work. He tossed the notebook back to Madeline. "I don't have time for this. You should be resting, not running around. If you show up to a divorce proceeding looking like this, people will think I'm the bad guy." Madeline silently clutched the notebook with her head bowed. … At the steakhouse, Lydia stared at her barely touched steak, her mood souring by the minute. When she heard Trevon returned to the Angelic Garden Residence, her annoyance turned to outright anger. "Madeline, that witch!" She whipped out her phone and dialed Skylar's number. Madeline had just reviewed the casting call from Skylandia, wrapped up her draft, and was stretching after a long day when Skylar's call came through. "Get over here tonight. If you don't show up, I'm tossing your mom's stuff." The line went dead. Madeline thought she had taken care of all Bella's things, so what could possibly be left at the Sanders' place? She could not risk it, so she hailed a cab and headed over. The Sanders' mansion was ablaze with lights, screaming new money from every gilded corner. Madeline stood at the entrance, taking in the garish display, and figured Skylar was behind it. Skylar greeted her with a grin, tugging her inside. "I just knew you'd come." Madeline jerked her hand away. "Cut the act, Skylar. There's no one else here. I did what you asked, so where's my mom's stuff?" Chapter 6 Before Skylar could answer, a sharp snap echoed from the side. "Madeline, watch how you talk to my mom!" It was Yale Sanders, Lydia's little brother. With his shoulder-length purple hair and arms sleeved in tattoos, he looked every bit the wannabe gangster. He had been coddled by Skylar all his life, and with the Sanders' wealth, he had gathered a gang of street toughs to back him up. Madeline did not expect him to be there but gave him a cool look and brushed him off. Just then, Cilix descended the stairs, his voice cutting through the air. "Yale!" Yale sulked, his lips puckered as he flopped onto the sofa, clearly annoyed. Cilix motioned for Madeline to take a seat at the dining table. "It's not every day we get your sister back home. I figured a family dinner was in order. Have a seat, will you? I had Mom whip up your favorite fish tacos." Skylar quickly dished some out for her. The oily sheen and the subtle fishy scent made Madeline wrinkle her nose and push the plate away. "I caught a cold and lost my appetite. I'm just here to grab a few things, and I'll be out." Cilix squinted, and Skylar, unable to contain herself, plopped down next to Madeline. "When are you planning on divorcing Trevon, huh? Your dad and I have already scoped out a new guy for you. He's ready to tie the knot and won't wait forever." A resigned feeling washed over Madeline. With a mocking smile, she murmured, "Really? Who's this wonderful match?" Skylar perked up and replied, "He's from a solid family. One of your dad's business partners. The guy owns a string of factories. Marry him, and you'll be the boss. They wouldn't even look twice at a divorcee if it wasn't for your dad's connections." She made it sound like a fairy tale. Madeline cut to the chase. "The owner of these factories? How old?" Skylar hesitated, then chuckled. "Not too old. He's just a bit over forty and in the prime of his life. It'll be your second marriage, so you can't afford to be choosy. Plus, they've promised to cut your dad a deal if you marry in. Consider it a tribute to your mom." Three years had passed, and Madeline's disdain for her family's ways was as strong as ever. She glared at Cilix. "Over forty? You're okay with this, being not much older yourself?" Cilix looked pained as he spoke, "Skylar's just trying to do what's best for you. Remarrying and bringing your mom into the mix, finding someone okay with that wasn't easy. Skylar really went out of her way for you." Skylar nodded earnestly. It had indeed been a challenge. Madeline needed to be married off and kept far away to avoid causing Lydia any more headaches. "Don't worry, the guy doesn't have kids. Everything in the future will be yours and your children's. It's a real stroke of luck." Madeline suddenly chimed in, "It's true. These kinds of terms are hard to come by. You've really outdone yourself, but…" Breaking from her usual composure, Madeline locked eyes with Cilix. "I was clear yesterday. I just want what my mom is entitled to—her shares. Those shares are peanuts compared to being Mrs. Gibson of the Gibson family." Cilix remained expressionless, but his eyes were calculative. "Your mom's shares?" Thinking she had swayed Cilix, Skylar piped up in a shrill tone. "What shares does her mother have? The Sanders family fortune is all thanks to me and Cilix. It's got nothing to do with your loony mom." Madeline's glare whipped towards Skylar, sharp enough to shut her up. "Apologize." "Why should I? Your mom's the crazy one." Without warning, a cup of scalding water splashed across Skylar's face, and she let out a scream. However, before Madeline could react, she was yanked back forcefully. A second later, she was punched in the face. "You owe her an apology!" Chapter 7 Each word Yale spat was accompanied by a punch landing on Madeline. Madeline shielded herself with her purse, narrowly avoiding a serious injury. Blinded by anger, she had not thought things through, never imagining Yale would actually hit her. Conceived had left her weak, and she could only dodge Yale's vicious blows in a clumsy dance of desperation. The Sanders family seemed petrified by the spectacle, each too scared to even twitch. Cilix wanted to speak, but Skylar cut him off. "What's Yale got, a little muscle? Let her take a hit. It might teach her to listen." Cilix's face darkened as he sat back down. She had written her dad off long ago, but the sting of disappointment was as sharp as ever. As Yale moved in again, Madeline knew she was on her own. With a swift kick, she toppled a chair and snatched a fruit knife from the table, aiming it straight at him. "One more step, and I swear I'll stab you!" Yale, thrown off by the chair, nearly slipped. He wiped his mouth and sneered. "You think you've got the guts?" Knife in hand, Madeline's face was ghostly, but her eyes blazed with defiance, "Try me. I'm still Mrs. Gibson of the Gibson family. If I take you down, they'll make sure it never sees the light of day." Her gaze flicked to Cilix. "You think our dad's got the spine to cross the Gibsons for you?" Yale did not budge. Skylar stepped forward with a nervous chuckle. "Come on, we're family. Knives? Really? Madeline, put it down." Madeline looked at Skylar icily and aimed the knife at her. "Stay back." Skylar froze, then looked pleadingly at Cilix. Cilix broke the silence. "Madeline, what's going on?" Madeline stood there with a cold expression, ignoring the blood that had started to drip from the corner of her mouth. She bit her lip, refusing to say a word. The recent scuffle had taken a toll on her, leaving her with a heavy feeling in her chest. She was afraid she would throw up if she opened her mouth. However, she was determined not to let them see her weakness. Amid the tense moment, the nanny burst in with unexpected joy. "Mr. Gibson and Ms. Sanders have arrived!" The pair entered the room. Trevon's face was a mask of seriousness, his lips pressed into a thin line. Lydia, catching sight of the knife in Madeline's grip, let out a sharp cry. "Madeline! Why are you holding a knife? What are you planning to do?" Cilix rose swiftly to welcome Trevon. "Mr. Gibson, please come in. Let's sit and talk. Madeline, put that knife down now." With a glance at Trevon, Madeline reluctantly set the knife aside. Skylar exhaled in relief and grumbled, "This is all Madeline's doing, causing a scene for no reason. Since when do we bring knives into family disputes?" Madeline inhaled deeply, pushing down the wave of nausea, and retorted with a frosty laugh. "So, now it's all my fault, just like that? I'm trying to do the right thing here, and I'm still the one to blame?" "Is this enough for you?" Trevon's voice, frosty and laced with anger, cut through the room. He had been feeling sick to his stomach the whole way there. That sensation had become all too familiar in the last couple of days, and he did not need to guess—it was Madeline's doing again. He had warned her just at lunchtime to take it easy, but what did she do? She ran off to her family's home to pick a fight, knife in hand. She might not be bothered by it, but he was fed up. The room fell silent. Madeline looked at him in disbelief. Was he really going to blame her without even asking why? Trevon had no interest in dragging out the conversation. He grabbed Madeline's hand and led her away with urgency. Madeline stumbled as he pulled her along, a sharp pain throbbing in her heart. Lydia tried to keep up, her voice tinged with concern. "Trevon, you haven't eaten yet." He barely paused, his voice dismissive. "Some other time." With that, he ushered Madeline into the car and shut the door behind her.	LEARN_MORE	https://beokn.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=10922&ut	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61560831098071/	21	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	beokn.com	DCO		https://beokn.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=10922&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/449688956_1121940968889821_4588828897944407849_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=103&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=1xpXM3_Z3ncQ7kNvgGLbpZo&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AP5q0ozZf30gICEzfEtgHUJ&oh=00_AYB9ZdQ0LlwHyNIpVSpbJhZbry0GiaMuVrHrmKmShLdTUA&oe=6756C63B	PERSON_PROFILE	0	0	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,587,456	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2587452}'	Yes	2024-12-04 20:33	active	1960	🔥🔥Click to read the next chapter for free👉	Chapter 0001 "Where's the patient's husband? Why hasn't he come yet? If he doesn't sign soon, it'll be too late,” a doctor urged. "The patient's husband refuses to come. He said to let her fend for herself,” a nurse replied. "Fend for herself..." When Suzy Frost, battered and barely clinging to life on the operating table, heard those words, something inside her stirred. Summoning the last of her strength, she slowly raised her hand. "Give me my phone..." Seeing her condition, the nurse quickly handed her the phone. Enduring excruciating pain, Suzy redialed the number that was almost etched into her brain. Just as the call was about to disconnect automatically, it finally went through. "I already told you that her life or death is none of my business!" the man on the other end spoke, his voice full of displeasure and impatience. "Dylan..." With every word Suzy spoke, a searing pain shot through her body, "After you took Anne away, the kidnappers detonated the bomb, and I was hurt, badly..." "Heh..." Before she could finish, the man on the other end let out a cold, dismissive chuckle. "Suzy, your acting is really improving. That weak little voice almost sounds convincing." "...I'm not lying to you, I really am hurt." "Is that so?" His tone grew even more scornful. "Then I wish you a speedy journey to death!" "Dylan..." "Beep beep beep..." Undeterred, Suzy tried calling again. "Sorry, the number you have dialed is unavailable.” The doctor, no longer able to stand by in silence, spoke gently, "Miss Frost, your condition is very serious. If you have any other family members present, they're also authorized to sign on your behalf.” What other family did she have? In this world, he was the only one who could sign the consent form. No matter how much it hurt, Suzy fought back the tears that streamed down her pale cheeks and asked the doctor with a faint smile, "Can I sign for myself?" "...Yes!" With her last ounce of strength, Suzy signed the consent form for the surgery. The operation lasted four hours and was finally over, but her condition worsened two hours post-surgery, and Suzy was moved to the ICU. For 24 hours, Suzy lay in a coma, unable to open her eyes, but her mind was alert, and she could hear the nurses discussing as they changed her bandages. "Even if the marriage is struggling, a husband can't just ignore his seriously injured wife! You wouldn't believe it—I called him several more times, but it just kept going to voicemail. Doesn't he care even a little?" lamented the nurse. "Here's some juicy gossip for you—the CEO of Wright Corporation, Dylan Wright, who's rumored to be disinterested in women and hasn't married even at thirty, actually has a girlfriend, and she's hospitalized right here in our hospital. He’s taking care of her around the clock in the VVIP ward on the top floor." "It’s strange how different men can be—one boyfriend is incredibly devoted, and another is worse than an animal!" Little did she know, Dylan was so close, merely an inquiry away from knowing that Suzy hadn't lied to him. Yet, he refused to waste a moment on her, simply because... she wasn't worth it! Her eyes, tightly shut, suddenly flew open, startling the nurse who was wiping her face. "You're awake!" Once awake, Suzy was immediately given a thorough check-up and, finding no serious injuries, was moved to a regular room. That night, deep in the silence, despite still being confined to her bed, Suzy removed her oxygen mask and dragged her injured left leg, wounded in the explosion, to the top floor. Outside the hospital room, through the glass, Suzy watched as Dylan tenderly fed Anne Wheeler fruits by her bedside. Her fists tightened, but the anguish in her chest, like a swarm of needles pricking at her heart, didn’t ease in the slightest. Three days ago, Suzy and Anne had been kidnapped together. Knowing how important Anne was to him, and despite their rivalry, Suzy had fiercely protected her. For two days and nights, Suzy was tortured by the kidnappers, bearing injuries all over her body, while Anne only suffered minor superficial wounds. Finally, Dylan came... "I choose to save Anne. As for Suzy, do as you please..." He was not only unconcerned about Suzy but even suspected that the kidnapping was a drama she had orchestrated herself. He had never trusted her! The intimate scene in the hospital room turned Suzy's eyes, once filled with love, utterly cold. "It's time to end this!" The moment Suzy turned to leave, Dylan felt something stir and whirled around, just as Anne let out a pained cry. Dylan quickly asked, "What's wrong?" Anne glanced at the door and then gave Dylan a weak smile. "I accidentally pulled at my wound." "Do you need a doctor?" "I'm not that frail," Anne replied teasingly. "But Mr. Dylan, you should head back. You've been with me day and night; Suzy must be upset again..." She paused, "Mr. Dylan, honestly, Suzy isn't wrong. No matter what our relationship was in the past, you are now her husband. No woman could tolerate her husband being so kind to another woman, so whatever she does is understandable. Don't be angry with her, otherwise, Madam Grace might hear of it..." Dylan cut her off, "It's getting late, you should sleep." "Mr. Dylan..." "Listen to me!" "Alright then." As Anne closed her eyes, Dylan glanced once more towards the door. Was it really... He remembered the weak voice on the phone that day. His lips tightened, and he stood up. Just as he moved, Anne grabbed his hand. "Mr. Dylan, my wound still hurts a bit. Could you blow on it for me?" A flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes before Dylan finally replied in a deep voice, "Alright." … Suzy didn't return to her room but left the hospital directly. A taxi took her back to the villa where she had lived with Dylan for three years. As she walked inside from the front gate, memories of the past three years with Dylan flooded back like a tidal wave. It had been a blend of sour, bitter, and spicy moments in their life together, but sweetness was conspicuously absent. Dylan had always believed that Suzy married him as part of a calculated scheme. In truth, he wasn't entirely wrong; Suzy had indeed manipulated events to marry him, but her motives were never what he assumed—she wasn't after his wealth or status; she was after the man himself. She had hoped that time would prove her true intentions, but three years had only intensified his disdain for her. She could never forget his cruel words, "Then I wish you a speedy journey to death!" "Dylan, you might not realize it, but I've actually been living in desperation all along. These past three years, I tried to climb out, to be normal, to be by your side, but you clearly didn't care. Since that's the case, I'll grant your wish." Taking what she needed and discarding what she didn't, Suzy left behind only the signed divorce papers and the keys to the villa. She walked away without a trace of longing, leaving nothing behind. Chapter 0002 The next morning, after spending yet another night at the hospital because Anne's pain had kept her from letting him leave, Dylan was finally on his way to the office. As they approached an intersection, he suddenly instructed the driver, "Take me to Bayview Heights." He had been wearing the same clothes for two days and needed a change. Otherwise, he wasn’t too keen on returning to that place. Upon arriving at the villa, instead of the warm welcome he might have expected, he was met with an eerie silence and a chilling sight on the living room table—a divorce agreement! Dylan’s gaze lingered on the signed divorce papers and the keys resting on top. With an unreadable expression, he paused for a moment before turning and heading upstairs. This was his first time entering Suzy's room. They usually lived separate lives, like oil and water, never mixing. The room was as clean and orderly as he expected. Over the past three years, she had personally taken care of his every need. It was hard to deny that in some ways, she had been a competent wife... Realizing his thoughts, Dylan’s brows furrowed, and he stepped forward to open her wardrobe. Clothes and jewelry, everything related to the Wright family were still there. Just as she had written in the divorce papers, she had left without taking anything, leaving with nothing but the clothes on her back. So, her cries of impending death that day, were they all just an act? He sneered. “Suzy, I’m curious to see what game you’re playing this time.” His phone rang. Pulling it from his pocket and seeing the caller ID, a trace of disappointment flashed in his eyes—a feeling he might not have even noticed himself. “What is it?” On the other end, his assistant sounded particularly anxious, “Sir, Miss Wheeler has had an accident!” His brow tightened immediately. “I’m on my way!” At the hospital, although bodyguards were posted at the entrance and surveillance revealed no suspicious individuals, Anne had somehow been poisoned and was in critical condition. Anne's primary doctor speculated, “Mr. Wright, it’s highly likely that Miss Wheeler was poisoned before she even arrived at the hospital…” Anne cut off the doctor before he could finish, "Mr. Dylan, please don't blame Suzy. She was just trying to protect her marriage! If I had listened to her and left you as she suggested, none of this would have happened. So, this is all my own fault..." "At a time like this, you should be worried about yourself, not that ruthless woman," Dylan replied sharply. His eyes hardened as he pulled out his phone to call Suzy. "I'm sorry, the number you have dialed is unavailable..." The fury in his eyes could have swallowed someone whole. He coldly ordered his assistant, who was standing by, "Search the entire city for Suzy!" Meanwhile, at Hillside Villa. "Ah-choo..." As soon as Suzy entered, she sneezed, causing Allen Wheeler, who followed her in, to become instantly anxious. "Boss, did you catch a cold?" Sniffling slightly, Suzy sneezed again. "It's nothing." "You've sneezed twice; you definitely have a cold!" Allen set down Suzy's luggage and hurried to the kitchen. "I need to make you some ginger tea right away." Watching Allen’s worried and hurried back, Suzy thought of Dylan’s cold words, "I already told you that her life or death is none of my business!" People who cared about her would worry over something as small as a sneeze. Those who didn’t wouldn’t have flinched even if they saw her hanging—they’d think she was just swinging. Three years ago, she had done everything to marry Dylan, to repay a perceived debt, she had toned down her personality, and humbled herself to the dust, working tirelessly. Thinking back, she realized she must have been out of her mind. Even if he had saved her three years ago, it was her first time, and he really wasn’t at a loss. The notion that she owed him anything was utterly absurd. Pushing down the pain in her heart, Suzy stopped Allen at the kitchen door. "Forget the ginger tea. However, the Goodwin family in North Avenue could use your help as a facilitator." "The Goodwin family?" Suzy’s eyes narrowed slightly. "The murderer who murdered my parents, and my own attacker three years ago, might both be connected to the Goodwin family." Upon hearing this, Allen’s eyebrows furrowed deeply. "The Goodwins are influential in politics, and it seems the player behind the scenes is bigger than we imagined. Martin Goodwin, the head of the Goodwin family, has been ill lately, searching for a renowned doctor. I’ll pass on the news that you are the miracle doctor to them soon." Ten minutes later, Allen told Suzy, "Boss, the Goodwin family needs you urgently; they want you to come as soon as possible, but your injuries..." In fact, the moment Allen saw Suzy, he wanted to ask about her injuries and where she had been these past three years. Since she was alive, why hadn’t she contacted them? But she never mentioned it, and knowing her temperament, he didn’t dare pry. Suzy knew Allen was worried about her, but she didn’t want to bring up anything related to Dylan with anyone. It was all over, and she would never contact him in the future; there was simply no need to let them know. Yet, saying nothing would certainly not ease his concerns. After a moment, she explained to Allen, "I took care of a dog for three years, but it never grew tame; it bit me instead." Allen’s anger flared immediately. "Where is that beast? I'll knock his teeth out." No one could harm his boss and get away with it! "He’s dead!" Dead in her heart. "Tell the Goodwin family that I’ll be there two days from now, four in the afternoon!" Two days passed in a blink. At Wright Corporation, in the CEO's office. Dylan looked up as his assistant, Desmond Hill, entered. "Didn’t find her?" “There isn’t a doctor who knows how to treat the poisoning,” Desmond said hesitantly, then added, “As for Mrs. Wright, she’s an orphan with no family. Everything she’s done over the past three years has been connected to you, and nothing suspicious has come up… so we haven’t been able to locate her either.” "It had been two days..." Was she intentionally hiding, or could she have... Realizing he was actually worried about her, Dylan's brows knitted together. "Intensify the search!" "Yes!" Standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, Dylan gazed into the distance, his eyes flickering with a complexity even he hadn’t noticed. "Suzy, you better pray you can hide forever.” "Sir..." Desmond, who had left just a minute earlier, hurried back in without even knocking, breathless with urgency. "Look at this!" Dylan, thinking there might be news of Suzy, took the phone and saw... "Red Falcon?" "A miracle doctor in the alternative medicine world!" Desmond exclaimed, excitedly. "She’s renowned for curing all kinds of poisons and diseases. People call her 'The Healer of Legends,' known for treating even the most severe injuries. She disappeared three years ago, and everyone thought she was gone for good, but now she’s reappeared. “I've just received reliable information that today at four in the afternoon, she'll be visiting the Goodwin family in North Avenue to treat Mr. Martin. Sir, perhaps Miss Wheeler could try her treatment?" "The Goodwin family at North Avenue.." The fact that the Goodwins had called upon her was proof enough of her skill. "Go invite her!" After a pause, Dylan stopped Desmond at the door. "I'll go myself." Chapter 0003 North Avenue was an hour and a half drive from South Avenue. Suzy arrived at the Goodwin family’s estate as promised in disguise. Using the pretense of treating an illness, she took the opportunity to hypnotize Martin. Unfortunately, she didn’t manage to extract any useful information. As she left, deep in thought, a sudden pain shot through her forehead as she bumped into someone... “Sorry…” The apology got stuck in her throat the moment she recognized the face. Dylan? What was he doing here? It was truly a case of enemies crossing paths in the most unexpected of places! In less than two seconds, Suzy tore her gaze away and walked off, her expression completely indifferent. Dylan stood there, confused. She was about to apologize to him, so why did her attitude change the moment she saw him? Especially how she suddenly looked at him—it was as if they were mortal enemies. Dylan turned, watching the direction she went, his eyes narrowing. That figure looked just like Suzy… “Mr. Wright, we’re so honored by your presence. I’m sorry for not greeting you properly…” The voice of the Goodwin family’s butler snapped Dylan out of his thoughts. By the time he glanced back, the woman had disappeared. Following the butler to see Martin, Dylan found the old man looking healthy, his complexion rosy, as if fully recovered from his illness. Dylan wasted no time and stated his reason for coming. But the reply was unexpected: the miracle doctor had just left, barely moments ago. Dylan was speechless. The woman he had run into earlier, the one with freckles all over her face—was she the miracle doctor? Knowing it was already too late to chase after her, Dylan quickly bid farewell to Martin. To his surprise, the woman hadn’t left yet. Seeing her car just start to pull away, Dylan hurried over, “Wait a sec—" But his words were drowned out by the roar of the engine. Now he was almost certain—this woman had something against him. He quickly got into his car and chased after her. As soon as Suzy saw the black luxurious car speeding after her in the rearview mirror, her brow furrowed. Did he recognize her? She wasn’t bragging, but her disguise was so flawless that not even her parents, if they were alive, would be able to recognize her. And Dylan? After three years of marriage, he had barely ever looked at her properly. So why was he chasing her so relentlessly? Just because she hadn’t apologized earlier? With a cold smirk tugging at her lips, Suzy floored the gas pedal. "You owe me a lot more than I owe you!" The red car shot forward like a bolt of lightning. "Interesting." Dylan’s eyes narrowed as he accelerated. The red car and the black one sped through the winding mountain roads, like two fierce predators locked in a relentless chase. At first, Dylan was confident in his driving skills—he was a man, after all. How could he not catch up to a woman? But in the final stretch, the woman suddenly did a sharp U-turn and drove straight toward him. He quickly jerked the steering wheel to the right, barely avoiding a collision. However, the speed was too fast, and his car skidded into the mountainside. Though he wasn’t hurt, his car stalled out. Through the windshield, his eyes met hers. She flashed him a playful smile, then gave him a thumbs-down, taunting him with a level of arrogance that sent his blood boiling. Moments later, she reversed her car with impressive speed, leaving him in the dust. "Red Falcon…" She wasn’t just a miracle doctor; she was also an ace racer. Although she wasn’t good-looking, her talents were undeniable. But why did she harbor such animosity toward him? Back at the office, the first thing Dylan did was instruct Desmond, "Dig into everything you can find on Red Falcon—leave no detail out." He had to find out what he’d done to make her so mad at him. Half an hour later, Desmond returned with a defeated expression. "Sir, all the information on Red Falcon is locked behind a heavily encrypted firewall. We’ve switched through several tech experts, but none of them have been able to break in." "...Send me the link." … "Boss, someone’s digging into your files!" Allen handed his laptop to Suzy, who was lounging on the couch watching a show. "It started about half an hour ago. They’ve cycled through a few people, and the latest one is pretty skilled. I’m having a hard time keeping them at bay." "Is that so?" Suzy's eyes narrowed, and she sat up. "Let me handle this." Her fingers flew across the keyboard, lines of code flashing rapidly on the screen. Within minutes, she closed the laptop and tossed it back onto the couch, stretching lazily. "Let’s go grab something to eat." Meanwhile, back at his desk, Dylan stared at the screen in disbelief as the code on his computer spelled out one word— LOSER! He nearly smashed the computer in frustration. Watching the taunting word flash on the screen and feeling the stormy tension building around Dylan, Desmond didn’t dare breathe too loudly. Their boss’ hacking skills were top-tier, not just in South Avenue but globally, so how could this happen? Noticing Dylan’s darkening expression, Desmond hesitated for a moment before offering a timid suggestion. "Sir, they probably don’t know it’s you, so I’m sure they didn’t mean it personally..." "Get out!" "Yes, sir!" "Wait." Dylan stopped Desmond as he was about to leave. "Use the contact information the Goodwins provided. Offer her ten million for the treatment." The main goal was to get her to cure Anne’s poisoning—everything else was secondary. A shadow flickered in Dylan’s eyes as he quickly formulated his next move. … Just as the food was being placed on the table, Allen’s phone rang. It was from an unfamiliar number. He glanced across the table at Suzy, who nodded, signaling him to answer. He pressed the speakerphone button as he picked up. "Is this the miracle doctor, Red Falcon?" It was Desmond! Suzy’s hand froze mid-motion as she was about to pick up her fork. Was Dylan really that determined to get an apology from her? Naturally, Dylan, who had never tasted defeat, couldn’t swallow his pride after being repeatedly taunted by her. Not wanting to get further entangled with him, Suzy motioned for Allen to hang up. "I’m sorry, you’ve got the wrong person." Just as Allen was about to end the call, Desmond quickly interjected, "Wait, please! I have a patient who desperately needs the miracle doctor’s help. We’re willing to offer ten million as payment for the treatment!" Suzy paused, her expression unreadable. So that was the real reason behind Dylan’s relentless pursuit? Their encounter at the Goodwin family estate hadn’t been a coincidence after all? For Dylan to personally reach out and offer such a high fee... Concerned that it might involve Grace Lawson, Dylan’s grandmother, who had always been kind to her, Suzy used lip movements to instruct Allen to ask for more details. Allen asked, "Can you provide some basic information about the patient? You can send it to my phone." Hearing some progress, Desmond eagerly replied, "Of course, I’ll send it right away." As soon as the call ended, Desmond sent over all the relevant details. The moment Suzy saw that the patient was Anne, she casually tossed the phone back to Allen. "Tell them I don’t treat for money. I believe in destiny, and this patient is not fated to meet me.” Allen blinked in confusion and thought, "Since when do you have such rules?" Though Allen sensed something off about Suzy’s expression, he didn’t ask any questions. Instead, he simply relayed her message to Desmond. Upon receiving the response, Desmond immediately reported Suzy’s message to Dylan. Dylan’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Add another ten million!" He couldn't believe she'd turn down that much money. Suzy sneered. "Twenty million?" A twisted urge suddenly gripped her—she wanted to test just how much Dylan truly valued Anne. Her eyes narrowed slyly. "Tell them I’ll make a house call for two hundred million. Not a penny less." Chapter 0004 "Two hundred million?" Dylan barely hesitated. "Deal!" Three years ago, after being drugged during an ambush, a girl saved his life despite being seriously injured herself. After a night together, the girl disappeared by morning. It had been too dark that night to see her face clearly, but he vaguely remembered a faint, distinctive scent on her, like some kind of herbal remedy. After investigating, he traced it back to the Wheeler family. Anne had been frail and sickly since childhood and had relied on natural remedies for years. According to her, on the day he was attacked, she was kidnapped and managed to escape. Along the way, she encountered him. Ignoring her own safety, she dragged her wounded body and gave herself to him to save his life. At the time, she was only eighteen. Anne saved his life, and he promised her marriage. Even though his grandmother, Grace, disapproved, he vowed never to marry anyone else. Yet out of nowhere, Suzy showed up. She orchestrated a heroic act, earning Grace’s favor, and step by step, manipulated Grace into forcing him to marry her. With her goal achieved, Suzy saw Anne as a thorn in her side, constantly picking fights. Lately, things had escalated — first, a kidnapping, and now poisoning... Two hundred million, or even more — as long as someone was willing to help save Anne, he’d pay any price. He owed Anne too much. … Meanwhile, Allen immediately informed Suzy after receiving a response. "Boss, they've agreed." He agreed… It was impossible not to feel something. After all, she had loved Dylan for so many years. She couldn’t help but wonder, if it were her who was poisoned, would he do the same? No, he wouldn’t! He’d wish for her death as soon as possible. That way, no one would stand in the way of him and Anne ever again. Suzy clenched her fists, suppressing the aching pain in her heart. "Deal!" It was two hundred million — since he was foolish and rich, why shouldn’t she take advantage of it? But... Who exactly poisoned Anne? What was the motive? And as for the previous kidnapping, after investigating all this while, there was still no answer. There must be a connection somewhere. It seemed a visit to the hospital tonight was necessary, to first determine the exact poison in Anne's system before following the clues. That night, when all was quiet, Suzy, dressed in a nurse uniform prepared by Allen, sneaked into Anne’s hospital room. The girl on the bed had a ghostly pale face and weak breathing. Dylan would probably be heartbroken seeing her like this. It was said that Anne had once saved Dylan, which was why he held her dear. In fact, they were quite similar; Suzy also fell in love with Dylan on the night he saved her. A self-mocking smile curled her lips. Suzy had schemed to marry him, thinking he was single. After all, rumors had it that he was indifferent to women and devoted only to his work, to the extent that his grandmother who raised him suspected he was gay! It was only after marriage that Suzy found out he had a girl he liked; it was just that Grace did not approve of Anne, so she never mentioned Anne in front of Suzy. Three years ago, while Suzy thought she was using Grace, wasn’t Grace actually using her too? Remembering that shrewd old lady, Suzy chuckled softly. "Age certainly does sharpen the wit!" Not wanting to waste more time, Suzy reached out to check Anne’s condition. Her brows furrowed instantly; her condition appeared to be… Indeed it was! Her expression suddenly changed. Suzy pulled out a syringe from her pocket, aimed the needle at a vein in Anne's left arm, and was about to insert it when her hand was suddenly grabbed. Using all her strength, Anne clutched the intruder's wrist. "Who sent you?" The medical staff in and out of this hospital room were carefully selected, and Anne knew each one well. The moment she saw the person in front of her, she knew something was off. Unimpressed by Anne’s awakening, Suzy shook off her hand and continued her previous action. As the sharp needle tip was about to pierce into her arm, Anne suddenly pushed Suzy and quickly sat up from the bed, reaching for the call button by the bedside. However, before she could touch it, her arm was pinned against the wall. Though most of the intruder's face was hidden by a mask, the chilling glare from her eyes was like a sword laced with murderous intent. Anne became even more panicked. “I am Dylan’s most beloved woman. If you dare hurt me, he will never forgive you…” “Slap!” After slapping Anne, Suzy grabbed her chin. "If you don’t want to die, keep quiet!" Her face stung from the slap, and her jaw felt like it was about to be crushed. However, from the intruder's words, it seemed she wasn’t here to murder her. Anne’s fear slightly subsided, and she stopped struggling. Seeing her finally quiet down, Suzy released her chin. After drawing the blood with the needle and finishing her task, Suzy removed the needle and left, not caring about the still bleeding puncture site. Having suffered such a grievance, Anne was not about to let it go. She quickly pressed the call button, “Someone is trying to murder…” Before she could finish, her throat was grabbed. The woman's speed was alarmingly fast, shocking Anne. “I didn’t want to murder you…” Suzy’s fingers tightened inch by inch around her neck. “But since you seem tired of living, I’ll grant your wish!” This wasn’t just a threat; Suzy genuinely intended to murder Anne. Indeed, Anne was no saint; she was quite skilled in manipulating situations. Over the past three years, she had framed others multiple times. Suzy had been patient only because Anne was Dylan’s favorite. Now... She didn’t care about who he loved. Furthermore, Anne owed Suzy that much. If it hadn’t been for her protection, Anne wouldn’t have survived long enough for Dylan to rescue her from the kidnappers. Seeing Anne's face turn red with difficulty breathing and veins popping on her forehead, the murderous intent in Suzy's eyes deepened. Just a bit more pressure and Anne’s life would be over! Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approached. They were distant, inaudible to most, but Suzy, with her exceptional hearing, could hear them clearly. It was Dylan! She felt a bit disgusted by how familiar she was with his steps. As the footsteps grew closer, Suzy’s gaze hardened, and with a swift motion, she knocked Anne unconscious with a sharp blow to the neck. After all, Anne was worth two hundred million—there was no reason to turn down that kind of money. Shifting her gaze slightly, Suzy quickly opened the door to the balcony and then slipped into the bathroom. The next second, the door was pushed open. Dylan entered, his eyes falling on the open sliding door to the balcony. His brows furrowed as he instructed Desmond, who followed behind him. "Close the door..." His words were cut off by a startled cry. "Ah..." Anne, who had thought she was doomed, suddenly opened her eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling, gasping for air in terror. "Did I wake you? I've been too busy these last few days to visit. How are you feeling?" Dylan walked to the bedside, noticing her distressed expression. "Did you have a nightmare?" Turning and seeing Dylan, Anne immediately threw herself into his arms, showing him the marks on her neck and the needle mark on her arm, "Mr. Dylan, just now, a woman disguised as a nurse drew my blood and then tried to strangle me." Chapter 0005 Dylan’s eyes shifted back to the balcony, giving Desmond a subtle look. Desmond searched the area and reported, “Sir, there’s no one here.” “Call the doctor.” Dylan’s gaze turned cold. "And tell the hospital to lock down all exits. Not a soul steps foot inside or out without my explicit authorization." “Yes, sir!” After the doctor’s examination confirmed that only blood had been drawn and nothing else had been done to her, Anne finally let out a sigh of relief. The attacker’s identity was still a mystery, and with her current vulnerable condition, it was hard not to feel afraid. But what puzzled her was why someone would go through so much effort just to draw her blood. However... With a shift in her gaze, Anne’s eyes welled up with tears. "Mr. Dylan, there’s something I’ve hesitated to say, but she’s really gone too far this time." It was a perfect opportunity to throw dirt on Suzy’s name, and Anne couldn’t let it slip by. Gripping his hand, her tears flowed even harder. "I’m already half-dead from the poison—why won’t she leave me alone? Does she think I’m not dying fast enough, so she sends someone in the middle of the night to drain my blood?" Dylan's expression darkened, but he didn’t respond directly. He simply said, "We’ve already found someone who can cure you with an antidote.” Anne’s eyes flashed briefly with surprise, though she quickly masked it. "But... I was told that this poison has no cure.” “There’s always someone better who can treat you. We’ve arranged everything with a miracle doctor named Red Falcon, who will help detoxify you. You’ll be cured soon.” “Red Falcon?” Anne questioned, trying to hide her unease. “Is she really that skilled?” “Yes, Mr. Martin from the North Avenue had a terminal illness, and thanks to her treatment, he made a full recovery.” Dylan’s voice softened. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle everything.” For Anne, it was always “I’ll handle everything…” For Suzy, it was always “This doesn’t concern me…” Listening from her hiding spot in the bathroom, Suzy had convinced herself she'd be numb to Dylan's tenderness toward Anne. Yet, as his gentle tone drifted through the door, she felt an unexpected pang. Despite everything, it still stung. Tired of eavesdropping, Suzy silently opened the window and leaped out. Like a bat in the night, she vanished without a trace—so swiftly, no one would ever know. At the hospital entrance. Growing anxious from waiting, Allen was just about to go in and help when he finally spotted Suzy emerging. He hurried out of the car and rushed over, giving her a quick once-over. “Boss, are you okay?” “I’m fine.” Suzy kept walking without stopping. “Stop worrying about nothing.” However, Allen sensed something was off. Logically, with the kind of influence Suzy had, Allen knew he shouldn’t be worried. But the ambush three years ago had left him deeply scarred. He could never forget the moment he saw her fall off that cliff with his own eyes. For three years, Allen had hated himself for not protecting Suzy, failing in his duty as her subordinate. So, when Suzy called to inform him she was still alive, Allen swore that, this time, he would give up his life if necessary to keep her from getting hurt again. He wanted to handle this mission for her, but she wouldn’t allow it. From the rearview mirror, Allen glanced at Suzy, who had been silent since getting into the car. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something complicated between her and Anne. Allen realized he needed to find someone to discreetly investigate the matter. His gaze hadn’t fully returned to the road when Suzy caught him staring. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Boss, did you find out what kind of poison it was?” Suzy paused briefly. “It’s Scarlet Veil.” “Screech…” The brakes squealed as Allen slammed on them in shock. “Scarlet Veil? But that was your masterpiece! Didn’t you destroy it along with the formula three years ago?” “There’s one last dose… with the Harlow family.” “Claude Harlow?” Allen’s eyes widened. “What kind of grudge could he possibly have against a young girl to go this far? Everyone knows that poison starts off mild, but once it hits again… she’ll be no better than a dog in heat…” Suzy had created the sinister poison to deal with a monster in the past. Even she was confused. The Harlows and Wrights had no bad blood between them. In fact, the Harlows even had business dealings with the Wheeler family. If Claude was behind the poisoning, she’d rule him out as a suspect in the earlier kidnapping. That much was certain. There was no way Claude would have, or could have, let Suzy come so close to dying in that explosion. No matter who it was, she was determined to find them. It wasn’t about proving her innocence to Dylan. She simply wouldn’t swallow that humiliation! Whether it was the kidnapping, the ambush from three years ago, or the one responsible for murdering her family—she wasn’t going to let any of them off the hook. Her eyes burned with hatred when Allen suddenly handed her the phone. "Boss, Dylan sent a message. He wants to arrange the treatment as soon as possible." Thinking of that deceitful man and his tenderness, she said, "Tell him the deal’s off." Earning two hundred million was tempting, but what intrigued her more was seeing what would happen to Anne after the second wave of poisoning hit her. … In the corridor outside Anne's hospital room. Though Dylan’s face remained expressionless, his eyes were as cold as ice. "What did you just say? Repeat it." Desmond, bracing himself, repeated, "Red Falcon said the deal is off." He regretted it now. He never should have mentioned Red Falcon to Dylan that day. This Red Falcon—first she demanded an outrageous sum, and now she was backing out. Didn’t she know just how bad Dylan’s temper was? Suppressing his rage, Dylan growled. "Give me the phone." Desmond quickly handed it over. Dylan dialed the number. It rang but went unanswered. Once, twice, and again, until his patience wore thin. Finally, a soft voice came through, "Sorry, I was busy." Desmond quickly wiped the sweat that had started to drip down his forehead. Thank goodness the call got answered—otherwise, his phone would’ve met a tragic end. The phone itself wasn’t worth much, but the data stored inside was priceless to him. “I’m looking for Red Falcon,” Dylan said bluntly. “She’s not available. If there’s something you need, you can tell me, and I’ll pass it along.” Dylan’s eyes narrowed. “The price was already agreed upon. Why cancel now?” “Please, Mr. Wright, stay calm. It’s true that canceling the arrangement on our side is a bit abrupt, and we apologize. But we have our reasons. Do you think we’d walk away from two hundred million so easily if we didn’t have a reason to?” “What’s the reason?” “That’s not something we can share with you, Mr. Wright. I suggest you find someone else quickly before Miss Anne misses the best window for treatment.” Without waiting for a response, Allen hung up the phone. The next second… Smash! Desmond watched in despair as yet another phone met its fate. His heart shattered even more than the phone. “Find her!” Dylan ordered, his voice cold. He was determined to see what kind of game she was playing now. Desmond wanted to say, “Easier said than done.” Not just Red Falcon, but also Suzy, who had been missing without a trace for so long. Why did it seem like every woman around him enjoyed playing hide and seek? Inside the hospital room, Anne had been listening to the commotion outside. Once she heard Dylan and Desmond leave, she quickly locked the door and pulled out another phone hidden under her pillow. “Dylan found someone to help me get an antidote, but I overheard that they backed out.” Anne sneered. “He keeps saying how great this Red Falcon is, but it seems she’s all talk. She must’ve realized she couldn’t actually cure me, so she ran at the last minute.” “If she created the poison, she definitely knows how to cure it.” “So, you know her? If she made the poison, why would she suddenly refuse to help? I overheard Dylan offering two hundred million for her treatment!” Since Dylan was willing to spend that much money on her, Anne could tell just how important she was to Dylan. The truth didn’t matter. Once she solidified her place as Dylan’s wife, even if he discovered she wasn't his true savior, his feelings for her would shield her from consequences. There was a long pause on the other end of the line before the person finally responded, “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted? You’ll soon face the second wave of the poison. I hope all your wishes come true.” “Thanks for the good wishes. Once I’ve secured Dylan, there’ll be plenty of rewards for you.” … The quickest way to find out if Claude was behind the poisoning was to ask him directly. Even though it seemed unlikely, Suzy decided she needed to meet with him. After all, they hadn’t seen each other in three years. So, the first thing she did upon returning to Hillside Villa was to ask Allen to look into Claude’s whereabouts. Before she could finish eating an apple, Allen had the information ready. “Claude’s on a business trip to Montara.” “Book a flight.” The next morning, Suzy boarded a plane bound for Montara. Allen wanted to accompany Suzy, but she refused, assigning him other tasks to handle. It had been three years since she’d been on a plane, and as she gazed at the clouds outside the window, Suzy felt a sense of freedom, like a bird returning to the sky. For those three years, her life had revolved entirely around Dylan. In her attempt to be the perfect wife, she barely left the house and spent her days thinking about how to take better care of him. Every morning at five, she got up to make him breakfast. She hand-washed all his clothes, even his socks and underwear. While he was at work, she counted the minutes, waiting like a lovesick fool for his return. Looking back now, she couldn’t believe she had lived like that for three years. What on earth had she been thinking? After landing, she went straight to Claude’s hotel, only to be told, “Mr. Claude checked out early this morning.” Suzy was speechless. She had planned on surprising him. Oh well, since she was already here, she might as well treat it like a vacation. Suzy spent the day shopping, buying plenty of things before catching her flight back home. She had to admit that being single has its perks! The farther away men were, the better. At the airport, Suzy spotted Allen waiting from a distance. “Over here…” Her smile froze instantly. Dylan? Surrounded by a crowd, Dylan was heading straight in her direction. Suzy quickly turned her back and thought, “Another unlucky day.” It wasn’t that she feared him; she just didn’t want to see him. And she was pretty sure he didn’t want to see her either. To avoid mutual disdain, Suzy slipped into the restroom. Dylan scanned the area, but there was no sign of Suzy. “Are you sure she was on this flight?” Desmond, sweating profusely, stammered, “I’ve double-checked several times. Mrs. Wright was definitely on this flight from Montara.” Desmond could hardly contain his excitement when he first got the news. Suzy’s disappearance, Red Falcon’s cancellation, and the woman who had infiltrated Anne’s hospital room only to escape under full lockdown—those three women had pushed Dylan to the brink of an explosion. Thank goodness there was finally news about Suzy. Otherwise, if Dylan exploded, Desmond would be the first casualty. Wiping sweat from his forehead, Desmond said, "I’ve got people stationed at every exit. We should be able to find her soon." Half an hour later... Dylan’s voice turned icy. “Where is she?” Desmond wished he could cut out his own tongue. Sometimes, it was best not to speak too soon! He couldn’t understand how Suzy, an ordinary person, was so good at slipping away. “Desmond, your performance is really slipping. If this keeps up, I think it might be time to send you to South Allica for some additional training,” Dylan said coldly before walking off. It had been half an hour, and Suzy had probably already made her escape. The fact that she could disappear under these circumstances made it clear that he had seriously underestimated her abilities. Outside the airport, a line of sleek black cars was parked, with the leading one looking particularly impressive. Desmond jogged ahead, opening the door for Dylan, who was just about to step into the car when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something… In an instant, Dylan turned, took several swift strides, and grabbed the shoulder of a woman standing nearby. hapter 0006 When Dylan spun the woman around to face him, his expression darkened instantly, like a shadow passing over his features. From behind, she had looked strikingly similar to Suzy, but her front was a different story. Her appearance was plain, a far cry from Suzy’s striking beauty. The fact that he’d even momentarily considered Suzy attractive only made Dylan's scowl deepen. "Hey, handsome, your approach is pretty unique. I like it," the woman said with a playful smile, leaning toward him. "I live close by. How about we..." "I’ve got the wrong person," Dylan cut her off. As he stepped back, the woman nearly stumbled but wasn’t discouraged. She moved closer again. "Don’t be shy. We’re both adults here. What’s there to hold back?" With a sharp glare, Dylan signaled to Desmond, who quickly stepped in to handle the situation. Once the two of them had driven off, Suzy slipped into Allen’s car, slowly peeling off the human-skin mask from her face. She had thought their encounter was a coincidence, but it turned out Dylan had deliberately come looking for her. But why? After all the commotion, what was he trying to achieve? She had already stepped aside. What more could he possibly want? Allen seemed equally puzzled. His curiosity finally got the better of him, and he couldn’t help but ask, “Boss, I just found out... Dylan wasn’t looking for Red Falcon. He’s been trying to find his missing wife…” "Yeah, that’s me," Suzy said calmly. There was no point in hiding it anymore. "...You’re married?" Allen was visibly stunned. "Was. I got married, then divorced." "Was it because of Anne?" Allen’s tone was laced with frustration. The fact that Dylan was willing to spend two hundred million on Anne was a clear sign of their deep connection. Unable to hold back, Allen muttered a curse under his breath. "Like mother, like daughter. She’s just as rotten as her mom." Suzy immediately caught the significance of his words. "You and the Wheeler family..." "I have nothing to do with the Wheelers," Allen said sharply, gripping the steering wheel. It was a painful chapter of Allen’s life, one he had never shared with Suzy. He had always planned to take his revenge quietly, without burdening her with his past. After all, Suzy had her own scores to settle. Anne’s mother, Helena Fox, and his own were cousins. An unexpected tragedy left her an orphan, and his grandmother, moved by sympathy, took Helena in. Little did she know, she was nurturing a wolf in sheep’s clothing. On the surface, Helena seemed sweet and caring, but beneath that facade, she was as cold and calculating. When Allen was eight, he walked in on his father, William Wheeler, having an affair with Helena while his mother was away on a business trip — and in his mother's own bed, no less. Not long after, they drove his mother to her death and tried to burn him alive. He suffered severe burns across most of his body. If it hadn’t been for Suzy saving him while he was trying to escape, he wouldn’t even be alive today. She nursed him back to health, gave him a new face, and turned him into the person he was now — someone William wouldn’t recognize, even if they stood face to face. Suzy could tell at a glance that Allen was lying. Since he didn’t want to delve deeper into the subject, she didn’t push him further. Everyone has their own secrets. She shifted the conversation. "Did you take care of what I asked before I left?" Allen opened the glove compartment and pulled out a blue folder. "The investigation confirms that there’s never been any conflict between the Goodwin family and the Turner family, not now or three years ago. And there's no way the Goodwins could learn about your real identity." Suzy had once been the heiress of the Frosts, the wealthiest family. Years ago, a brutal assassination wiped out her entire family in a single night, from relatives to servants—a total of thirty lives, all murdered. The murderers were beyond cruel. Everyone believed that no one from the Frost family survived, unaware that someone had risked their life to save Suzy. For years, she had kept her identity hidden. Apart from Allen, Raven Murray, and Riley White, no one else knew who she really was. And none of them would ever betray her. Suzy opened the folder, flipping through the pages. She found nothing out of the ordinary; everything seemed in order. Yet, three years ago, she distinctly remembered the kidnappers mentioning the Goodwin family. Closing the folder, she tossed it aside casually. "You can dodge the first blow, but not the second." "Yes, if the Goodwin family is really involved, no matter how powerful they are, they’ll pay the price in full," Allen said before asking, "What about Claude?" Suzy leaned back in her chair, her eyes half-closed. "He returned early. I didn’t get a chance to see him." "So, are we heading to the Harlow family next?" "We’ll see." After all the running around, Suzy was feeling tired. She’d head home for some rest first. Besides, Anne’s second wave of poisoning was set for tonight. Suzy needed to be well-rested to fully enjoy what was about to unfold. … That night, at the hospital. Anne had been unusually thirsty since dinner. She drank plenty of water, yet the discomfort only worsened. She knew it was time—the second wave of the poison was hitting. In a panic, she called Dylan. "Mr. Dylan, where are you? I feel so awful..." she moaned as soon as the line connected, not waiting for a response. But it wasn’t Dylan who answered—it was his sister, Diana Wright. "Feeling awful? Call a doctor. What’s the point of calling my brother?" Diana had always disliked Anne. "And this is my final warning. My brother is married. Whether it’s me or my grandmother, we’ve both accepted his wife as family. You’d better stay far away from him." Anne wasn’t fond of Diana either. "Oh really? You probably don’t know that they’re divorced, do you? And it was Suzy who initiated it." "You're lying!" Diana snapped, not believing a word. "My sister-in-law loves my brother. There’s no way she would ever ask for a divorce." "If you don't believe me, go ask your brother. And by the way, your dear sister-in-law has run off with some random guy and hasn’t been seen since!" "You witch! Say one more bad word about her, and I'll rip your mouth apart..." Diana was in the middle of her furious rant when the phone was snatched away by Dylan. She looked up. "Brother, that witch Anne just said that your wife wants a divorce!" Dylan’s face was cold. "Watch your manners." "My manners? I rather show some manners to a dog than her! Now tell me—is Suzy divorcing you or not?" "That’s none of your business," he said, his dark eyes narrowing. "What you should be focused on is your exam tomorrow." With that, he turned to leave. Diana chased after him. "How can it not concern me? She saved Grandma’s life! If it weren’t for her, we’d both be orphans by now. You can’t be so heartless..." No matter what she said, Dylan kept walking without a word. Frustrated, Diana stomped her foot. "I’m calling Grandma!" Dylan knew Diana would go straight to Grace to complain. He couldn’t figure out what spell Suzy had cast over both his grandmother and his sister. They adored her to the point of obsession. The only reason he hadn’t launched a full search for Suzy was to avoid alarming Grace, who was currently enjoying her vacation overseas. But now it seemed the secret was out. With that thought, he redialed Anne’s number to find out how she knew about the divorce. "Mr. Dylan, Mr. Dylan..." The moment the call connected, Anne’s pained voice came through. "What’s wrong?" Dylan asked. "I feel terrible, I really feel like I’m dying. Please come and save me!" "Don’t panic. I’m on my way." Chapter 0007 At the hospital. The moment Dylan stepped through the door, Anne threw herself into his arms. She clung to him like a rag doll, trembling against him. "Dylan, I feel awful... I feel so terrible..." “Where does it hurt?” Dylan tried to push her away, but instead of letting go, she only clung tighter. "Everywhere..." Anne moaned, placing his hand on her front. "Especially here, it feels like bugs crawling under my skin—itching, unbearable. Mr. Dylan, please help me!" Her behavior was clearly not normal. “I’ll call the doctor.” “No, I don’t want a doctor. I want you.” Anne clung to him like a vine, her hands restlessly undoing his shirt buttons. “Please, Mr. Dylan, help me, I feel like I’m dying. If you don’t help me, I really will die...” As her fingers worked to undo the buttons, Dylan grabbed her wrists. “Anne, calm down...” “I can’t calm down...” She leaned in, trying to kiss him, whispering his name over and over, “Mr. Dylan, Mr. Dylan...” Just as she was about to succeed, Dylan forcefully pushed her away, sending her sprawling to the floor. His resistance spoke volumes, even if he hadn’t said a word. A flicker of coldness flashed in Anne’s eyes, but when she looked up again, only sadness remained. “Mr. Dylan, do you hate me?” Dylan didn’t respond, nor did he help her up. Instead, he turned away. “I’m calling a doctor.” Anne wasn’t about to let him leave. She scrambled to her feet and wrapped herself around him from behind. “I told you, I don’t want a doctor. I want you! Please, Mr. Dylan, take me...” “Anne, something is clearly wrong with you,” Dylan said, his lips pressed into a thin line. “You need to see a doctor.” “No doctor can help me. Only you can save me.” As she spoke, Anne began stripping off her own clothes. “Please, save me. I’m begging you.” Just when Anne thought she had succeeded, a sharp pain shot through the back of her head, and everything went black as she crumpled to the floor. Watching Anne fall unconscious, Suzy, who had been hiding in the wardrobe, retracted the silver needle that she had prepared to throw. It wasn’t about helping Dylan—it was simply that she couldn’t bear to watch the scene unfold. It was the kind of thing that could make her eyes bleed. What she didn’t expect was that Dylan would actually... Anne was supposed to be the woman he loved most. Suzy couldn’t quite understand why he knocked her out. Dylan scooped Anne up in his arms and laid her back on the hospital bed before pressing the call button for the doctor. When the doctor arrived, Dylan briefly explained what had just happened. “Is this related to the poison in her system?” After a quick examination, the doctor nodded. “Yes, you’re right. The poison in Miss Anne’s body is highly unusual. The last time the poison flared up, nothing like this happened. Now, it’s suddenly escalated, and who knows what could happen next. We need to detox her as soon as possible.” Dylan frowned and thought about what the doctor said. There had been no word from Red Falcon. Forget about tracking her down—she hadn’t even answered a single phone call. Desmond had been trying for days, but every attempt had gone unanswered. Detoxing Anne was proving to be no simple task. For the first time, he found himself played by a woman who had him in the palm of her hand. With his jaw tight, Dylan commanded, “For now, find a way to alleviate her symptoms.” “That’s going to be difficult...” the doctor began. “This poison is something I’ve never encountered before, and I know nothing about it. I’m concerned that if we administer the wrong medication, it could worsen her condition instead of easing it. So...” The doctor pressed his lips together before continuing, “At this point, the safest way to relieve her symptoms might be for you, Mr. Wright, to help Miss Anne personally.” “Absolutely not!” Dylan didn’t hesitate. “If it comes to that, we’ll use sedatives.” “But that might not be safe either…” “At least that way, she’ll maintain her dignity,” Dylan muttered, his voice low as he looked at Anne lying unconscious. “I can’t let her lose her honor.” So, it wasn’t that he wouldn’t touch her—he just didn’t want her to be ridiculed. Suzy’s mind flashed back to a day when she had gone to his office to deliver some documents he had left behind at home. His employees had mistaken her for the maid, and from start to finish, he hadn’t said a single word to correct them. They had been married for three years, and not once had he shown her the respect a wife deserved. Yet, when it came to Anne, he shielded her at every turn... Suzy didn’t want to compare, but moments like this always brought it to the surface, no matter how hard she tried. Why was she even watching this pathetic drama? She really should find a way to slip out of here. And as luck would have it, the opportunity presented itself. The doctor left, and moments later, Dylan’s phone rang. Probably to avoid waking Anne, he stepped out of the room with his phone. Seizing her chance, Suzy quietly slipped out of the wardrobe. But just as she thought she’d made her escape, Dylan walked back in. Their eyes locked. The air between them went dead silent. Suzy reacted quickly, darting toward the balcony. Dylan was just as fast, his long strides closing the distance. Just as she was about to leap off the balcony, his hand caught her shoulder, yanking her back. "Speak. Who sent you?" Suzy let out a cold laugh. "The hospital is a public place. I’m allowed to come and go as I please. Do I need your permission now?" She wasn’t worried at all about Dylan recognizing her voice. Before going out, she always used a voice-altering agent—not to hide from him specifically, but out of long-standing habit. Keeping her true identity hidden was a necessity. Though she hadn’t gone so far as to disguise herself today, just a simple mask, there was no way Dylan would figure it out. She wouldn’t give him the chance. "So, you think you can just come and go as you please, huh..." Dylan's grip on her shoulder tightened, his voice growing colder. "Since you're here, why don't you stay for a while?" "The wind’s pretty strong tonight—careful you don’t bite your tongue!" Suzy swiftly dodged his grip, twisting out of his hold, and in one fluid motion, threw a sharp punch directly at him. But Dylan wasn’t easy prey either, effortlessly dodging her attack. The two were locked in a fierce exchange, trading blow after blow, kick after kick. After dozens of moves, neither had the upper hand. Dylan chuckled, "Not bad." Suzy smirked. "You're not too shabby yourself, Mr. Wright." But then, his eyes flashed dangerously, and he switched tactics, aiming a series of strikes at her abdomen. Realizing his intent, Suzy shifted her defenses to protect her midsection, but in an unexpected move, Dylan suddenly diverted his hand, reaching for her mask instead.	LEARN_MORE	https://beokn.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=14871&ut	Indulge in story	https://www.facebook.com/61552702618591/	859	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	beokn.com	DCO		https://beokn.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=14871&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}&placement={{placement}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/463603676_1575537693071797_6068888192638989593_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=103&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=DevQr-Sw3P0Q7kNvgFU6eQp&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=Ab0eYl3dzTikBPn5icqo9AU&oh=00_AYCPCcfzYUPn-ozewic8B5gOPmS5yX1QcYHyjk_KIIiTQQ&oe=6756CFCA	PERSON_PROFILE	0	0	Indulge in story	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,587,760	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	No	2024-12-04 20:33	active	1960		🎼🌲Everyone loves music and Christmas Stockings🎁, and with this special offer, you can save $$$ while we do all the work for you! This one-time holiday special includes a fully stuffed musical stocking with: 🌲One Month of Music Lessons Certificate 🌲$25 Music Retail Certificate for books and music supplies 🌲Candy canes and holiday candy 🌲Instrument- specific goodies (🥁Drummers get drumsticks,🎸 guitar players get Snark tuners, 🎤voice and 🎹piano students receive special music theory flash cards) 🌲Free $25 Registration! Value: $174. Your cost: Only $99!. Or opt for two months of lessons for a total of $198! You can pick up the Stocking at the school. To ensure it's ready for Christmas, place your order by 5 p.m. on December 20th, 2024. it's easy to redeem - just follow the link below: https://www.scrantonmusiclessons.com/StockingStuffer	SHOP_NOW	https://www.scrantonmusiclessons.com/StockingStuff	Scranton Music Academy	https://www.facebook.com/ScrantonMusicAcademy/	5,703	1969-12-31 18:00	Shop now	www.scrantonmusiclessons.com	VIDEO		https://www.scrantonmusiclessons.com/StockingStuffer	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/469138853_1014832080449566_8047915673182823973_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=105&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=MBrtyJBThSMQ7kNvgHE_dMC&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=Ab8y2YaApqMriYpa40-oyCw&oh=00_AYB7Y2cElxOVcU8inW0sWzHhtLK2XajIM1ADz70Ksr0m0w&oe=6756C2FF	PERSON_PROFILE	0	0	Scranton Music Academy	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,586,194	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2586152}'	Yes	2024-12-04 20:33	active	1960	He drunkenly hugged her “Call me husband again ......”	💔Nyla Jayston was in her third month of trying to conceive when she saw a message on her husband Clark Sumner's phone from a contact named "Jordyn Cheatham". Jordyn: [I think my new nightgown is a bit tight. Why don't you come over and check if it fits?] Attached was a selfie of a woman in a deep V-neck red slip dress, her body partly exposed, exuding seduction. Nyla's grip on the phone tightened. She scrolled up and found Clark and Jordyn's previous exchanges to be strictly work-related, which made her frown. 'Was the text sent by mistake? Or…' A hand wrapped around Nyla's waist from behind, breaking her thoughts. Clark pressed his warm body against hers and gently nibbled her earlobe. "Honey, I'm all cleaned up. Do you want to do it on the couch or the bed?" Before Nyla could respond, Clark picked her up and laid her on the couch, his tall frame looming over her. "Since you're not saying anything, I'll choose. Let's do it on the couch," Clark said, his voice husky and his eyes filled with a flicker of fire that made Nyla blush instantly. Nyla was already beautiful, and the slight flush on her cheeks made her look like a tempting, ripe, juicy peach under the light. Clark's gaze grew darker. He leaned in to kiss Nyla, but she suddenly turned her head away. Sensing her resistance, he looked at her with confusion. "Honey, what's wrong?" Clark, usually assertive at work, now looked at Nyla with a mix of confusion and hurt, which softened her heart momentarily. Despite that, she hadn't forgotten the explicit selfie she had just seen. She stopped him with one hand on his chest and held up his phone with the other, showing him the screen. "Explain this first." Clark glanced at the screen and immediately frowned, grabbing the phone to make a call. It was quickly answered. "Mr. Sumner, what can I do for you?" Clark glowered, and his voice turned icy. "I didn’t know my secretary started soliciting clients." There was a moment of silence before Jordyn's panicked voice came through. "M-Mr. Sumner, I'm sorry. That message was meant for my boyfriend. I must have sent it to you by mistake..." "Next time it happens, pack your things and leave!" Clark hung up and looked back at Nyla, his expression softening, even showing a hint of grievance. "Honey, she sent it by mistake. If you're still upset, I'll fire her tomorrow. It's late now, so let’s not waste time on someone unworthy. We haven't seen each other in a week. You need to make it up to me tonight." Clark pulled Nyla in for a kiss, but her mood was ruined despite the issue being cleared up. She wasn't in the mood anymore and pushed him away. "I'm tired tonight. Let's continue tomorrow." A flash of disappointment crossed Clark's eyes, but he didn't pressure her. "Alright, you sleep first. I'm not tired yet, so I'll go to the study to handle some work." "Okay." … It started raining heavily in the middle of the night. The sound woke Nyla, and she reached out only to feel the cold space beside her. She glanced at the clock—3:16 a.m. Nyla wondered whether Clark was still working. She got up, put on a robe, and went to the study, but it was dark and empty. Her grip on the doorknob tightened, and her heart sank. Nyla’s phone suddenly chimed, startling her in the quiet night. Seeing that it was a text from a stranger, she had a gut feeling that reading it would mean no turning back for her and Clark. A thunderclap boomed outside, startling her into accidentally pressing it. [Still awake? Because your husband isn't with you?] [I was scared because of the thunder and power outage, and he came to comfort me.] [Don't you want to know where your husband is?] As Nyla read the messages and the boastful tone, her hands trembled uncontrollably. After a long while, another text came in with an address and a series of digits. Nyla bit her lip, grabbed her car keys, and drove straight there. By the time she reached the villa, it was past 4:00 a.m. She entered the code, and the door unlocked. The living room lights were on. From the entrance to the bedroom door, a man's suit and a woman's lingerie were strewn about, revealing the urgency of their actions. Seeing the torn red nightgown at the bedroom door, Nyla felt a sense of absurdity. Although the distance from the entrance to the bedroom was only a few meters, it felt like an eternity to Nyla. Standing at the bedroom door, she felt light-headed and dizzy. She reached out, trembling, and slowly pushed the slightly open door. The sight of the messy bed and the bared couple entwined—their heavy breathing filling the room—pierced Nyla's heart. The couple was so engrossed that they didn't notice her standing there. Nyla's hand on the door frame turned white from gripping it too hard, leaving red marks on her palm. She had been with Clark for eight years, from school days to marriage, envied by everyone around them. Until today, she had never imagined betrayal between them. Now, reality dealt her a cruel blow. Even the most sincere wedding vows couldn't withstand a fickle heart. Unable to bear the sight, Nyla turned and stumbled out, driving away. She stopped by a bar on the way and decided to go in. … By the time Valarie Weir arrived, Nyla had already downed two bottles of whiskey, her gaze slightly unfocused. "Valarie, you're here..." Seeing Nyla surrounded by several men, Valarie frowned. "All of you, leave!" "No, they're fine here—" "I said, leave!" After driving the men away, Valarie sat next to Nyla. "What happened? Did Clark really cheat on you?" Valarie was Nyla's university roommate and had witnessed Nyla and Clark’s journey from school to marriage. She had seen Clark treat Nyla well all these years, so she couldn't believe he would cheat. Upon hearing Clark’s name, Nyla's gaze dimmed, and the heart-wrenching pain came rushing back. "I don't want to hear that name right now." Chapter 2 Nyla downed her drink in one gulp. She had never imagined Clark would betray her. Seeing him in bed with another woman felt like a dagger through her heart. "I just can't believe it. He loved you so much. He didn't seem like the type to cheat. Maybe there's a misunderstanding," Valarie suggested. Nyla let out a cold laugh. "I saw it with my own eyes. How could that be a misunderstanding?" The room fell silent. Watching Nyla drink like there was no tomorrow, Valarie grabbed the glass from her hand. "Even if he cheated, you shouldn't punish yourself by getting drunk. What are you going to do now?" "I'm getting a divorce. Just thinking about him with that woman makes me sick." Upon seeing the defiance in Nyla’s red eyes, Valarie's heart ached. "Don't think about it now. You need to rest. Decide what to do next once you’re calm. I'll take you home." Nyla shook her head. "No... I don't want to go back." Returning to that house would only bring back the sickening images of Clark’s betrayal. Each recollection made her feel nauseous. Seeing Nyla’s reluctance, Valarie didn't insist. "I'll book you a hotel room then." … After booking a room, Valarie took Nyla to the hotel entrance. "Are you sure you don't want me to take you up?" Nyla shook her head. "No, you go rest. I'll be fine." She waved with the room card and walked into the hotel. Seeing Nyla walk steadily, Valarie finally breathed a sigh of relief and drove away once Nyla was inside the hotel. What she didn't know was that Nyla, when drunk, appeared sober but was actually a mess inside. Nyla entered the elevator, scanned her card, and the elevator began to ascend. Soon, the doors opened with a ding. As Nyla stepped out onto the carpet, her legs almost gave out. She steadied herself against the wall, massaging her aching temples while searching for her room number. The wine was taking its toll, and her vision blurred. She found Room 8919 and tried the card on the door. Hearing no beep, she frowned and was about to push the door when it suddenly opened. Nyla froze. Before she could react, a large hand yanked her into the dark room. The door slammed shut, cutting off the light from the hallway. She was pressed against the door, a man's breath hot against her ear, making her shiver. The familiar scent of pine filled her senses, but before she could place it, she felt the warmth of his lips on hers. "Mmph!" Realizing what was happening, Nyla struggled. Damon was strong, and with the wine dulling her strength, her hands felt weak, almost inviting as she pushed against his chest. Damon’s hands roamed her body, leaving a trail of fire, and her body grew more responsive under his touch. Nyla tried to push him away, but he easily caught her wrists and pinned them above her head. "Let— Mmph! Let me go…" He stopped kissing her and chuckled. "No need to play hard to get." His fingers traced her collar, the cool touch making her shudder. His body heat seemed to melt her, and her legs grew weak. In the dark, Nyla’s senses heightened. She felt Damon unbuttoning her clothes, her mouth dry, her last bit of rationality warning her that this was going too far. "Let me go!" She mustered all her strength to push him, but he simply picked her up and threw her onto the bed. The bed was soft, so Nyla didn’t feel pain, but the impact made her head spin. She tried to get up, but Damon pinned her down. Soon, her clothes were gone, and they were both nearly bared. He pressed against her, ready. His dominating presence made her tremble. She pushed against his chest, biting her lip to stay calm and clear-headed. "Mister, I think I entered the wrong room. Please let me go…" Nyla’s voice shook with tension. "Tsk!" Damon's voice was impatient, his tone cold. "Still playing?" He was about to get up and kick Nyla out when the room light suddenly came on. Nyla had accidentally hit the light switch in her struggle. The sudden light made Damon squint. He was shocked when he saw the terrified woman beneath him. Nyla, recognizing Damon, felt the blood drain from her face. The fear sobered her instantly. She couldn’t believe it—the man who almost violated her was Clark’s uncle, Damon Summer! "Uncle Damon…" Nyla had always been wary of Damon. He was the youngest son of Richard Sumner and Marie Thorne, doted on by them and known for his unpredictable, cold nature. Even outsiders avoided crossing him. When she married Clark, he had warned her to steer clear of Damon. "Shut up!" Damon's face was dark, his gaze icy, as he contemplated whether to silence her for good. Then, his eyes shifted to her bare body, darkening further. He turned away, getting off the bed. "Get dressed and get out!" As Damon moved, Nyla caught a glimpse of him where she shouldn't, and her face turned red with embarrassment. Upon seeing her flushed face, Damon's expression soured even more. "Still not leaving?" Nyla could not care less about her embarrassment as she hastily dressed and left without looking back. Once outside, she checked the room number and realized her mistake—it wasn’t Room 8919, but Room 8916! She had entered the wrong room and almost slept with her husband’s uncle. The thought made her headache worse. She should have let Valarie take her up. Unfortunately, it was too late for regrets now. After Nyla left, Damon dialed a number with a glower on his face. "Delete all surveillance footage from the Empire Skyview Hotel tonight!" Upon hanging up, he looked at the messy bed and sheets, his irritation growing. He had almost slept with his nephew’s wife... What a mess! Chapter 3 On Nyla's way back, she hesitated for a long time before finally messaging Damon, someone whose contact she had had for three years but had never contacted. Nyla: [Uncle Damon... Can we pretend tonight never happened? I was really drunk and went to the wrong room.] She waited for a long time, but there was no response from Damon. Frowning, she sent another message. Nyla: [?] As soon as she sent it, a red exclamation mark appeared: [You are no longer friends with this user. Please send a friend request to continue chatting.] Nyla bit her lip. Damon had deleted her. He must not want to bring this up again. Relieved, she finally felt a bit of peace. … When Nyla got home, it was already past 6:00 a.m. As soon as she opened the door, she saw Clark sitting on the sofa. He turned sharply at the sound of the door, his eyes bloodshot from a sleepless night. "Where were you last night? I called you dozens of times. Why didn’t you answer?" Clark stood up and walked quickly toward her, reaching out to grab her hand, but she pulled away. He froze, about to speak, but she spoke first, her tone icy. "You can stay out all night, but I can't?" Nyla had always been gentle. In their eight years together, they had hardly ever argued. This was the first time she had spoken to him so coldly. Clark sensed something was wrong and noticed her red, swollen eyes. His expression changed, and his hand clenched at his side. "You know, don't you?" His voice was calm, without a trace of guilt or panic, as if he had expected this day to come. Upon seeing his unapologetic demeanor, Nyla's long-suppressed emotions finally exploded. She swung her bag at him, her eyes red with fury, like a madwoman. All the good times they had shared, all the happy moments, were shattered the moment she saw him in bed with another woman. They could never be pieced together again. "Clark Sumner, how could you do something so disgusting?! If you didn’t love me anymore, you could have divorced me. Why did you have to hurt me like this?" Nyla had assumed that no third party could ever come between them. Unfortunately, reality gave her a harsh slap, waking her from the lies he had woven and turning her love for him into a joke. Seeing her red, tear-filled eyes, Clark felt a pang in his chest. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into his arms. "Nyla, I’m sorry..." Nyla shoved him away, wanting to laugh but only tears came. "Don’t touch me with your filthy hands! "Is it that hard to stay faithful? "Since we got married, I’ve met many excellent men, and some have shown interest in me. But I’ve never crossed the line. If I can do it, why can’t you?!" Clark clenched his fists when he saw the disappointment and anger in her eyes. "Nyla, you’re the only one I love… It was just an accident with her…" His explanation sounded so weak that Nyla found it both laughable and nauseating. "So you’re saying I could sleep with another man and then tell you it was an accident? That I may have betrayed you physically, but my heart still belongs to you?" A flash of ruthlessness crossed Clark's eyes. "If you dare, I’ll end you and that man together in bed." Seeing his icy gaze, Nyla felt a chill in her heart. If he knew betrayal was unforgivable, why would he still betray her? She took a deep breath and spoke slowly. "Do you remember what I told you when you proposed?" She had said that if he ever betrayed her, she would not forgive him but leave him. Clark’s expression changed. "I will not let you leave!" Nyla wiped her tears, her expression a mixture of ridicule and hatred. "Whether you agree or not, I’ve made up my mind. I’m divorcing you. You don’t deserve my forgiveness." With that, she ignored his reaction and went upstairs. Clark stared at her back, his gaze dark. … Back in the bedroom, Nyla went straight to the bathroom to shower, unable to stand the smell of wine on herself. While applying body wash, she noticed red marks on her chest and paused. The image of Damon’s hands roaming her body flashed through her mind, making her frown. She scrubbed the marks hard until the skin around them turned red, trying to erase his touch. After her shower, she saw Clark sitting on the bed with his head down, lost in thought. She frowned and decided to ignore him. They would be divorced soon anyway. Clark looked up and saw Nyla coming out in just a towel. Her damp hair dripped water, her freshly washed face flushed like a blooming rose with an enticing fragrance. The towel barely covered her behinds, revealing her long, fair legs. His breath hitched, his gaze glued on her. Nyla didn’t notice Clark's reaction. She walked to the wardrobe to grab her pajamas when a pair of arms suddenly wrapped around her from behind. "Nyla..." Clark's voice was husky, filled with undisguised desire. Clark had been thinking about how to win her back downstairs after she left. The only way he could think of was to have a child with her. He had come upstairs to discuss this with her, planning to take it slow. However, he lost control upon seeing her just out of the shower. In the past, such behavior would have stirred Nyla's feelings, but all she felt now was disgust. She turned and pushed him away, her gaze full of revulsion. "Don’t touch me. I feel dirty." Hurt flashed in Clark's eyes. He grabbed her hands, his expression earnest. "Didn’t you always want a child? Let’s have one now, okay?" Nyla shook him off at his matter-of-fact attitude. "That was before. I might have a child in the future, but it won’t be yours." Her words enraged Clark. He grabbed her and threw her onto the bed, pinning her down. "Say that again!" His eyes were full of anger, but Nyla didn’t care. "It doesn’t matter how many times I say it. I’m disgusted by you. I’d rather die than have your child." As soon as she finished speaking, Clark kissed her fiercely. Chapter 4 Nyla froze for a moment, then struggled desperately. Just the thought of Clark kissing another woman the night before filled her with disgust and rage. "Let go!" Her struggles were futile against Clark, who only tightened his grip around her waist. As she fought, her towel loosened, revealing her body. His gaze darkened, and he felt a rush of desire. Their bodies were pressed tightly together, and Nyla quickly noticed the change in Clark. Furious, she bit him hard, tasting blood in their mouths. Instead of letting go, Clark's other hand slipped under Nyla's towel. She had nothing on underneath, having just come out of the shower. She stiffened and struggled even more fiercely. "Clark, get off me!" Clark ignored Nyla, his fingers teasing her sensitive spots. "Nyla, you need me too, don't you?" Nyla’s struggles were in vain, and she grew increasingly desperate. As Clark positioned himself, she closed her eyes in despair. "Clark, don't make me hate you." Clark halted abruptly. Seeing Nyla filled with despair and pain, like a fragile porcelain doll about to shatter, made him pause. He wanted her desperately, but a voice in his head warned that if he took her now, it would be the end of them. He stared at her, his hand tightening around her waist. After several tense seconds, he suddenly let go and got off the bed, leaving the room quickly. The door slammed shut with a loud bang, making Nyla flinch. She clutched the blanket tightly. … For the next few days, Clark didn't come home. Nyla called him several times to discuss the divorce, but he didn't respond. … The weekend arrived. Nyla was in the living room, sending out job applications when she heard the front door open. Clark walked in, looking haggard. They stared at each other in silence until Nyla broke it, closing her laptop and standing up calmly. "Since you're back, let's talk about the divorce." Clark frowned. "I told you, I won't divorce you. I'm here to remind you that we have to go to the family dinner tonight." The Sumners held a monthly dinner, and ever since their wedding, Clark and Nyla had attended together. The family wasn't kind to Nyla, often treating her poorly. She endured it because she believed Clark loved her. After seeing him with another woman, however, she couldn't lie to herself anymore. "I don't want to go. Go by yourself." Clark’s expression turned impatient. "Nyla, how long are you going to keep this up?" He had ignored her calls and messages, hoping she would calm down, but she was still the same. "I'm not keeping anything up. I just want a divorce." Upon hearing the word "divorce", Clark's patience wore thin. He looked at Nyla as if she were unreasonable. "Divorce? You haven't worked since we got married. How will you support yourself? Which company would hire you? And what about your father's exorbitant medical bills? Can you afford those? "Nyla, you're not a teenager anymore. You're 28. It's time to grow up. "I'm the CEO of the Sumner Group. I face temptations all the time. Sometimes, it's hard to resist, but those women will never take your place as my wife. What more do you want?" Clark couldn't understand why Nyla didn't see that he still loved her, even if he couldn't commit to being with her forever. Seeing Clark’s arrogant demeanor, Nyla couldn't reconcile this man with the shy boy who had once blushed while confessing his love and promising never to hurt her. Maybe this was his true self—selfish, proud, and condescending. "If being mature means tolerating your infidelity, then I'm sorry, I can't do that. Find someone else. Here are the divorce papers I've had drafted. Sign them when you have time." Clark glanced at the documents, sneering when he saw the section on asset division. "Quite the appetite you have, asking for half my assets. Do you really think that's possible?" "I deserve it. Why not?" Clark chuckled, his tone mocking. "Look around this house. Did you buy anything here? I've been covering your father's medical expenses for years. If we tally things up, you should be paying me. Should I have my lawyer do the math?" As Nyla watched his bitter expression, she couldn't believe she had once loved this man. He had hidden his true self so well that, until she caught him cheating, she had thought he was a great guy. "Don't forget, if it weren't for me giving you that patent, you wouldn't be the Sumner Group's CEO. And you were the one who told me to stay home after we got married. If I had continued my research, I would have earned far more than what you've given me." Unfazed, Clark replied, "Who would believe you about the patent now? "I don't want to argue about money, but if you insist on a divorce, we'll have to settle accounts. Nyla, as long as you drop the divorce idea, my money is still yours to use." "Clark, you're despicable!" Since he refused to divorce, she'd have to sue. She turned to leave, but he blocked her. "Change your clothes. We're going to the family dinner." "I said I'm not going. Tell them I'm not feeling well." Clark grabbed her wrist. "Nyla, I'm running out of patience. Don't force me to cut off your father's medical expenses." "You wouldn't dare!" Clark took out his phone and called his secretary. "Cancel my father-in-law's medical payment for next month—" Furious, Nyla grabbed his phone and ended the call. "You're crossing a line, Clark." "Crossing a line?" Clark's gaze was full of contempt as he yanked her closer. "Everything you have is because of me. Don't you think you're the one crossing the line? Change your clothes, or I have numerous ways to make you comply." Chapter 5 Seeing the coldness in Clark's eyes, Nyla realized how blind she had been to fall in love with such a man. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, but she refused to show any vulnerability in front of him. She yanked her hand away, took a deep breath, and headed upstairs. The only thought in her mind was to find a job quickly so she could move out and divorce Clark. She grabbed a random outfit, tied her hair up with a hairpin, and went back downstairs. She was never one to fuss over her appearance. In the past, she had dressed up for the Sumners' gatherings to make a good impression. Now, she couldn't care less. Hearing her footsteps, Clark looked up. Nyla wore a fitted white dress, her waist so slender it seemed it could be encircled with one hand. Her hair was secured with a jade hairpin, revealing her delicate neck. She was breathtakingly beautiful. The grace she exuded was just like when they first met. However, the look in her eyes now was devoid of any warmth. "Let’s go," she said. They drove to the Sumner residence in silence. As they arrived and were about to get out of the car, a black Range Rover sped up and stopped abruptly in front of them. Upon recognizing the car, Clark's expression darkened. It was Damon's car, someone he both feared and disliked. Damon was known for his reckless and unpredictable behavior. He had refused to take over the Sumner Group when Richard wanted him to run the company, choosing to start his own business instead. Everyone had expected him to fail, but within five years, his company had grown to be worth several times more than the Sumner Group. Clark couldn't stand Damon, partly out of jealousy. Once, a comment Clark made about Damon reached Damon's ears, and in retaliation, Damon refused to collaborate with the Sumner Group, costing them millions. Damon rarely attended family dinners, and Clark had hoped to avoid him. Luck wasn’t on his side today—they met at the door. He didn’t notice Nyla’s stiffened expression when she saw Damon get out of his car. Clark opened the car door and greeted, "Uncle Damon." Damon glanced at him indifferently, his gaze briefly landing on the passenger seat before he nodded and walked into the house. Nyla let out a deep breath. When Damon looked her way, she had forgotten to breathe, fearing he might say something outrageous. He was known for his unpredictable nature, always doing whatever he pleased. Fortunately, he said nothing. She decided she needed to talk to him privately later. As Clark and Nyla walked into the living room, they saw it was already filled with people. Richard and Marie, the family heads, were chatting with Damon. He was the kind of person who naturally stood out in a crowd. Noticing Nyla’s gaze on Damon, Clark frowned. "Why are you staring at my uncle?" Nyla withdrew her gaze and replied coolly, "None of your business." Her coldness irritated Clark. "Nyla, you know I don’t like you paying attention to other men." Ever since they got together, Clark had been extremely controlling, not allowing Nyla to interact with other men. She used to think this was a sign of his love, but now it seemed laughable. She sneered. "And I don’t like you sleeping with other women, but you seem to enjoy it just fine." Clark said through gritted teeth, "This is a family dinner. We’ll deal with this later." "If you don’t want me to bring it up, then stay out of my business," she retorted. Clark didn’t want to cause a scene now because it might affect the Sumner Group and his standing with Richard, who still held all the company’s shares. As they talked, Marie called out, "Nyla, Clark, you’re here! Come sit down!" Nyla took a deep breath, forcing a smile as she approached. She might not like the Sumners, but she maintained basic manners. "Hello, Grandpa, Grandma," she greeted with a smile. Marie, who had been urging Damon to settle down and get married, looked pleased to see the couple. "Come, sit down." She turned to Damon with a hint of dissatisfaction. "Look at Clark. He manages the company well and has a beautiful wife. They might have children soon. And you? Almost 30 and still single. If you don’t bring a girlfriend next time, don’t bother coming!" Damon glanced at the couple with a smirk. "She is indeed beautiful." He just wondered how that petite frame would suffer if she were to have children. Nyla frowned, feeling uncomfortable with Damon’s gaze. Clark also noticed the inappropriate way Damon looked at Nyla. It wasn’t the look of an elder but more like a man admiring a woman. His hand clenched into a fist, and his body tensed. Marie sighed. "My point is, when will you bring me a daughter-in-law?" "Depends. If I meet someone I like, maybe I’ll bring her back tomorrow," Damon replied nonchalantly. "You’re too picky! I’ve arranged a good match for you. Date's tomorrow, don’t ruin it." "Then you’ll probably have to apologize to another old friend tomorrow." Frustrated, Marie snapped, “You’re going to drive me crazy!” Damon glanced at Clark. “Clark's been married for years. Instead of pushing me, why don’t you encourage him to have kids?” Marie nodded, realizing Damon wouldn’t listen to her. She turned to Nyla and Clark, her expression softening. “Nyla, you and Clark have been married for a few years now. When are you planning to have children?” Chapter 6 Nyla lifted her head to speak, but Clark grabbed her hand and smiled. "Grandma, we're working on it!" Nyla tried to pull her hand away, but Clark's grip was too tight. If he wouldn't let her be, she wouldn't make it easy for him either. She turned to Marie. "Grandma, I'm looking for a job right now, so having children might have to wait." The room fell silent. Clark's grip on Nyla's hand tightened painfully, and she winced. Damon glanced at Clark's hand on Nyla, noticing the bulging veins, then looked away indifferently. Clark’s aunt, Anne Sumner, sneered. "Nyla, don't blame me for being blunt. You've been married for years. How can you not have a child yet? If it weren't for Clark insisting on marrying you, do you think your family could have ever married into the Sumners? "You should be grateful. If you don't want to have Clark's child, there are plenty of women who do. If someone else steps in, you’ll be the one looking silly." Besides, Anne thought, "Who knows if Nyla is fertile?" She sounded like she meant well, but her gaze at Nyla was filled with an air of superiority. Marie frowned at Anne, disapproving. "Anne, enough." Anne pursed her lips but stayed silent. Marie turned back to Nyla with a kind smile. "Nyla, you and Clark are still young. If you don't want children yet, that's fine. Just don't overwork yourself. Our family isn't short on money. You can work if you want, but take it easy." Nyla nodded. "I understand, Grandma." With that, the awkward moment passed, and the room returned to its previous warmth. Seeing the attention shift away, Clark pulled Nyla out of the living room. Once they reached the gazebo in the backyard, he released her. "Nyla, have you lost your mind? Do you want everyone to know about our fight?" Nyla rubbed her sore hand and said, "I was just being honest." "Honest?" Clark scowled. "Should I call your father then?" Harrison Jayston was ill and couldn't handle stress. Nyla planned to divorce Clark before breaking the news to him gently. She glared at Clark. "You wouldn’t dare! You were the one who cheated. What right do you have to be so self-righteous?" Clark clenched his hands, a flicker of guilt crossing his face before it was replaced by impatience. "I promised it wouldn’t happen again. If you don't want to see Jordyn, I'll fire her. What more do you want?" Nyla felt like there was a communication breakdown between them and turned away. "I don't want to argue with you here." When Clark saw her red-rimmed eyes, he softened. "Nyla, I truly know I was wrong. Just don't mention divorce, and I'll make it up to you. I love you. I can't let you go." Nyla found it laughable. How could he claim to love her while being with another woman? Just thinking about him with someone else made her sick. "I will never forgive you." Betrayal was her bottom line. She couldn’t pretend nothing had happened or reconcile with him. Clark knew Nyla well enough to understand that he had to be patient. He believed she still had feelings for him. Otherwise, she would have made a bigger scene when she found out. As long as he refused to divorce her, she would eventually forgive him. "Fine, we won't talk about it now. If you don't want kids yet, we’ll postpone it to two years later. Since you want to work, I'll have my secretary find you a position at the Sumner Group." Nyla laughed at his arrangement, a mocking look in her eyes. "Clark, do you see me as a puppet you can control?" Hurt by her gaze, Clark frowned. "How am I controlling you? You don't want kids now, so I agreed to wait two years. You want to work, so I'll arrange it. What more do you want?" "Stop pretending. I don't want kids because I want a divorce. I want to work to sever ties with you." Clark looked at Nyla's stubborn face, displeased. Since their wedding, she had been like a canary in his cage. He couldn't let her go. "As long as I don't agree, this marriage won't end. Even if you tell a lawyer I cheated, do you have proof?" Clark's confident tone and controlling demeanor made Nyla step back, trembling with anger. She finally saw how selfish and disgusting he was. She had wasted eight years—the best years of her life, from 18 to 26—loving this man. "You make me sick, Clark!" Seeing the undisguised disgust in Nyla's eyes, Clar	LEARN_MORE	https://findedc.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=15692&	Indulge in story	https://www.facebook.com/61552702618591/	859	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	findedc.com	DCO		https://findedc.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=15692&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}&placement={{placement}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/467016045_429530010194525_5158613089155121429_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=106&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=FJx3JGByXs8Q7kNvgEYjJ-T&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=ATfDeiiqnJufsibnJHK0nKr&oh=00_AYDdRpOapqE1qansX3ob6EdrFydpihQWxcuvji_0mim8Gw&oe=6756C7BD	PERSON_PROFILE	0	0	Indulge in story	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,588,085	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2587908}'	Yes	2024-12-04 20:33	active	1960		Weekly Specials are in! Specials are valid Thursday, December 5th through Saturday, December 7th. Oranges and Grapefruits are $0.75 each or 3 for $1.99 this month at Esh's Produce! Miami Rolls are $2.00 per pack this weekend at A&R Bakery. To view our specials and more, visit our website: https://delawarefarmersmarket.com/weekly-specials/ 701 North Broad Street, Middletown, DE 19709			Dutch Country Farmers Market	https://www.facebook.com/dutchcountryfarmersmarket/	15,626	1969-12-31 18:00			MULTI_IMAGES			1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/469340440_1271750303977276_3042304762496360898_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=100&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=opu9NNnt5B0Q7kNvgEs4QTE&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=ApjAUD8ZlO982oSo6FF0EIb&oh=00_AYB6DXci-XkDCc5ZlgzqYTHOcdSCDfBRHnu-E8yLILwggQ&oe=6756DAB3	PERSON_PROFILE	0	0	Dutch Country Farmers Market	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,586,513	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2586504}'	Yes	2024-12-04 20:33	active	1960	😍Read the next chapters👉	Chapter 1 "You'll have the test results in about an hour." The nurse's smile was gentle and reassuring as she took the vial of blood from Madeline Sanders. Madeline held a cotton swab to her arm and settled into a chair in the waiting area. She was a bit pale, but her eyes sparkled with hope. She had a hunch she was conceived, and that hospital visit was just to make sure. Three years ago, Trevon Gibson was involved in a terrible car crash that left him comatose, with doctors saying he would never wake up. Lydia Sanders, Trevon's high school sweetheart and Madeline's half-sister, did not waste any time and jetted off abroad for her studies. Somehow, Trevon's grandmother—Edith Gibson—figured that Madeline was Trevon's lucky charm and insisted she marry him. The Gibson family promised to care for Madeline's mother, who was lost in her own world of madness. Madeline felt trapped but agreed to the marriage. Little did everyone know that Madeline was secretly in love with Trevon for years. To everyone's surprise, Trevon woke up after the wedding. However, Madeline's joy was short-lived. Trevon's first words to her were icy and calculated. "Out of respect for my grandmother, I'll take you as Mrs. Gibson for three years. When Lydia returns in three years, I will marry her." Madeline had braced herself to play along with that deal, ready to step aside when the time came. However, life threw a curveball a month and a half ago. Trevon stumbled home after drowning his sorrows in wine that day, and Madeline single-handedly managed to drag him inside. Supporting a drunken Trevon was like moving a boulder—each step a battle of strength. Madeline and Trevon could no longer keep themselves upright and crumpled to the floor just inside the front door. Their lips brushed together in the fall, an accidental kiss that sent Madeline's heart racing. Trevon was a notorious germaphobe, avoiding physical contact like the plague. However, that unexpected kiss seemed to unlock something in him, and he leaned in for another. Madeline was caught off guard, but she did not resist. Later, in the quiet aftermath, Madeline could not bear to stay in the bed they shared. She tiptoed around the sleeping Trevon, erasing any trace of what had happened between them. The hospital was a hive of activity, but Madeline felt alone in the crowd. With trembling hands, she opened the lab results. 'Early stage of conceive. Recommend a follow-up ultrasound.' Joy flickered across her face, quickly hidden behind her hand to muffle her giggles. Regardless of the state of her marriage, that baby was a precious gift. She was eager to tell Trevon, her fingers hovering over her phone. However, she hesitated. Trevon's germaphobia was not just about objects—it extended to people. She had seen him scrub his hands raw after a mere handshake. However, wine had loosened his inhibitions that one night. Would he believe the baby was his? Doubt clouded Madeline's mind, bringing a headache and a wave of nausea. She was jostled as a group of doctors in white coats rushed by, nearly sending her phone flying. "Emergency! Please step aside," a nurse said, flashing Madeline a quick, apologetic smile before dashing off. Madeline took a deep breath, watching the commotion unfold. Her gaze drifted to the emergency room doors without much thought. However, in a heartbeat, her eyes widened in shock. Trevon was there, shielding Lydia as they stepped down from the ambulance. He guided her gently onto a stretcher and, with a team around them, made a beeline for the VIP suite. A chilling shiver sliced through Madeline, her knees buckling as she clung to the nearby railing for support. Lydia was back. In the hospital room, the doctor briefed Trevon. "It seems like a mild concussion, but we'll need the test results to be sure." Trevon's expression was serious. "Speed it up. Use the VIP route." Lydia, stretched out on the gurney, smiled weakly at Trevon. "You're always so kind to me." Lydia pouted as she continued, "I wasn't paying attention. Who would've thought a bike bump could lead to a concussion? In Ameristan, people usually slow down on their own." Trevon gave her a fleeting, detached look. A flicker of worry crossed Lydia's face. "Trevon, with Skylandia's tight deadlines, isn't my accident going to set us back a lot?" Skylandia was the latest venture from Trevon's gaming empire, Xystos Tech, and Lydia had returned to lead the art on it. "I won't stay here. I have to get back to work," she declared, attempting to get out of bed. Trevon was quick to intervene, his hand on her shoulder easing her back down. "Don't be childish." As the tender scene unfolded, Madeline watched them outside the VIP room with gritted teeth. Trevon was notorious for his meticulous ways, but he did have a soft spot. He was not always distant. He just saved all his warmth for Lydia. Madeline felt a wave of emotion as she teared up. She touched her nose and fought the tears. Without really knowing why, she found herself pulling out her phone and calling Trevon. In the sterile silence of the hospital room, Trevon's face froze for a moment as he checked his phone, then casually handed it off to his assistant, Simon Taylors. "Tell her I'm tied up in a meeting." Madeline's heart clenched as Trevon's annoyed expression flickered across his face. Simon, moving to the side, answered Madeline's call softly. "Hello, Mrs. Gibson. Mr. Gibson is busy in a meeting. Is there something you need?" Madeline's lips twitched with a defeated smile. "No, it's nothing. I just hit the wrong button." Simon frowned. "Mr. Gibson's schedule is packed. Please be more careful in the future, Mrs. Gibson." The future? Was there even a future to speak of? Lydia, overhearing Simon, gave Trevon a subtle glance. She casually showed off the pink Hello Kitty bandage on her hand. Trevon's eyes snapped to it, his voice laced with a hint of longing. "You still haven't kicked that old habit, I see." Lydia forced a smile. "Well, you know I've always been fond of Hello Kitty." Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to soften. Madeline could not stand it any longer. Clutching her phone, she turned around and left. She thought one night could change things, but it was just wishful thinking. Despite the autumn season, Redenbaugh City was sweltering, and the hospital's air conditioning was cranked up, sending chills down her spine. She felt light-headed, as if she were floating on air. Suddenly, a little boy darted into her path, bumping into her. Madeline's face went pale as she caught the little boy, but in doing so, she lost her footing and tumbled to the ground. The fall sent a chill up her spine, and she held her belly, too afraid to move. The boy, however, started wailing, drawing curious glances from passersby. His mother rushed over and gave him a quick once-over. When she found him unscathed, she pulled him into a tight embrace before turning to Madeline with fury. "Can't you watch where you're going? You ran into my baby! How will you make this right?" Madeline, her mind on the baby she was carrying, bit back her pain and chose not to retaliate. Instead, she made her way to the maternity ward upstairs. The mother was not having it, yanking on Madeline's arm. "You think you can just hit someone and leave?" Madeline, nearly tripping over, turned slightly and offered calmly, "Should we review the security footage?" The woman, clutching her son, stormed off. Madeline felt her vision darken as she clutched her chest. She leaned against the railing, immobilized. In the VIP ward, Lydia gazed at Trevon longingly and leaned in for a kiss. Trevon, who was aloof, felt a wave of nausea as she got close. His vision blurred, and his chest tightened. He flinched and shoved Lydia away. Chapter 2 "Here's the divorce agreement. Take a look." Trevon, fresh from the hospital, confronted Madeline with a request for divorce. The image of Lydia's hurt look lingered in his mind, leaving him with a sense of resignation. His rejection was not just about his aversion to germs. It was also the sudden sickness and weakness that overtook him. He dismissed it as a one-off, which was not worth worrying about. However, faced with Madeline, the discomfort was undeniable. Madeline, still reeling from her hospital visit, was blindsided by the divorce papers laid out before her. It took a moment for her to find her voice, and when she did, it quivered. "Do we really have to end this?" "Yes." Madeline's grip tightened, and the question she could not suppress spilled out. "Is it because Lydia's back?" Trevon loosened his tie, his face turning to stone. "Didn't I make myself clear three years ago?" He had, and she had accepted it. However… "If... Just if..." Madeline hesitated, biting her lip. Trevon was impatient. "Madeline, you can't always want more." She looked up sharply, disbelief etched on her face. Did he think she was haggling over the divorce terms? With several deliberate taps on the table, Trevon continued, "Indeed, you've done everything required of being a wife these past three years. There's a modest place near Johnsrud. It's yours now. That's the best I can do. Don't make me lose respect for you." Madeline's response was trapped in her throat as she smiled bitterly. Three years of marriage, and her reward was a house. Should she be thankful? He was determined to get the divorce over with, by any means necessary. There was no need to mention the baby. It would only complicate how he saw her. She did not need a man whose heart belonged to another. Madeline felt nauseous, feeling like she needed to purge immediately. She crouched down to clutch the bin and gagged, but nothing came up. Trevon watched, his brow furrowed in disbelief. Why did her sickness stir something in him? Was it a mere coincidence? Seeing her ashen face, it was clear she was unwell. Trevor gave Madeline a questioning look. "Are you sick? When did it start? What's wrong?" Madeline felt the urge to throw up but could not, which only intensified her discomfort. Clinging to the trash can seemed like the only thing she could do. At the sound of his question, her fingers tensed uncontrollably. She forced a casual response. "Maybe it's just a cold. No big deal." "Answer me!" His voice turned sharp, sending a jolt through Madeline, and she murmured almost without thinking. "This afternoon, when you were… I'm just feeling a bit of chest tightness, weak limbs, and a touch of nausea. Typical cold symptoms." She did not bring up the hospital visit, quickly labeling it a cold to avoid any wild guesses. The timing and the symptoms lined up perfectly. 'So, it's because we caught a cold at the same time?' Trevon wondered. Madeline finally let go of her resistance. She deliberately avoided the divorce papers on the table and fetched the sour orange she had bought earlier from the fridge. Her mouth was unbearably uncomfortable, and she craved the relief of something sour. After all, she would need some strength in her hand to sign those papers. The moment she took out the sour orange, its tangy scent filled the room. Catching a glimpse of Trevon standing to the side, watching her with a frown, she hesitated before offering, "Want one?" Trevon looked away, clearly uninterested. Madeline chuckled awkwardly. "Sorry, it slipped my mind. You're not into sour stuff." However, as she sliced into the vibrant sour orange and its juicy interior burst with a potent tangy aroma, Trevon seemed unable to look away. Madeline was about to take a bite when she noticed Trevon approaching. His towering presence felt like a wall closing in, making the kitchen feel smaller by the second. Instinctively, Madeline stepped back. "If you don't like it, then I'll just..." Before she could finish, Trevon was at the sink, lathering up with soap, washing his hands with deliberate care three times before reaching for a piece of the sour orange. He scrunched his forehead, eyeing the orange for a long moment before popping it into his mouth. Madeline's jaw dropped in astonishment. However, Trevon did not spit it out. He chewed thoughtfully and swallowed before looking at her seriously. "Next time, make sure the knife's washed three times, okay?" The urge to bite into that tangy orange slice was irresistible. Sure enough, the sour kick seemed to soothe his queasy stomach. It was not just some bug. His nausea had kicked in right after Madeline's, as if he was only sick because she was. What was up with that? Trevon made a mental note to get to the bottom of it. Madeline gave a simple "Oh" in response. They finished the orange together, a moment of closeness they had not felt in three years. After washing her hands, Madeline looked up at Trevon. Sharing that sour fruit seemed to have bridged the gap between them, if only a little. However, their journey together was nearing its end. She murmured, "I'll sign the divorce papers." It was like cashing out after three years. A million and five hundred thousand, and a house to her name. She was coming out ahead. When she was about to sign, Trevon snatched the papers away. "We'll add another house to the deal. Wait for the lawyer's final draft." Madeline nodded, still in a daze. Suddenly, Trevon's phone buzzed and Lydia's whiny voice came through as he picked up the call. "Trevon, when are you coming? I'm bored." Madeline gripped her pen so hard her thumb whitened, nearly snapping it. Trevon ended the call, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door. Madeline stepped forward, her voice tinged with concern. "How am I supposed to explain this to Grandma?" "We'll talk when I'm back," Trevon replied before the door slammed shut behind him. The house, once filled with life, echoed with emptiness. Madeline chuckled at herself, shook off the silence, and went to the kitchen to whip up some noodles. After all, she had to think about the little one growing inside her. A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Expecting Trevon, who might have forgotten something, she swung the door open only to be greeted by unwelcome faces. Madeline's warmth vanished. "What are you two doing here?" Cilix Sanders, her father, smiled and said, "You weren't picking up, so your mom and I thought we'd drop by." Her phone did show a string of missed calls. Ignoring their calls was nothing new, but their sudden visit was unexpected. "My mom's lost her mind, locked up in Sunshine Psychiatric Hospital. Did you forget to visit her, or did you forget she's there?" Skylar Lowe, Madeline's stepmother, stood beside Cilix in her flawless outfit. She looked nothing like someone who had toiled in the fields. However, her sharp and calculative eyes matched her biting tone. "Such disrespect! Where are your manners?" Madeline was furious. If she truly lacked manners, Skylar would have been long gone. It was Skylar's appearance, after all, that had tipped her mother over the edge. However, Madeline had been biding her time, collecting proof. They would all pay, eventually. Pushing down the bile, she asked coolly, "So, what brings you here?" "Let's talk inside," was all they said. Once they were in, Madeline poured water into two glasses, her hands steady as stone. Madeline's calm and compliant facade only fueled Skylar's ego. With an arrogant head tilt, she announced, "Your sister's back in town. It's time you end things with Trevon and give up your title as Mrs. Gibson to her!" Madeline fought the impulse to douse Skylar with water as she gripped the kettle firmly. "Give it up? I'm not following you." Madeline's gaze shifted to Cilix. "You told me when Trevon was in that coma, the company was strapped for cash. Marrying Trevon was the only way to afford my mom's medical bills. I married into the Gibson family for the sake of the Sanders family. How did Lydia end up taking my place as the daughter-in-law of the Gibson family?" Chapter 3 "I was looking out for the Sanders family too," Cilix said as he sipped his water. "The Sanders-Gibson family alliance is crucial. Three years by Trevon's side, and what? No kids, no hold on his heart, no benefits for the Sanders family. Now that Lydia's back, along with her bond with Trevon, these issues will vanish. I can even afford better care for your mother." Cilix's duplicity struck Madeline once more. Madeline countered, "Did you forget why Lydia left the country? Or do you think the Gibsons have forgotten too?" "That's why we're asking you to initiate the divorce with Trevon," Cilix replied. Madeline saw right through their plot. She would step aside, letting Lydia take the lead, and the Sanders family would reap all the rewards. After a tense silence, Madeline broke the ice. "I'm willing to divorce Trevon, but on one condition. I want my mom's shares—the ones she's entitled to." Cilix instantly became furious. Once upon a time, the Sanders family was a picture of unity. Cilix, who came from nothing, married Bella Ziegler—Madeline's mother—and quickly turned his fortune around with a garment factory. However, Bella paid a steep price, severing ties with her own family. It was not until Skylar—previously 'Jolene', with her kids in tow—showed up that Bella realized the magnitude of her mistake. She battled depression for years, and the strain of the revelation only deepened her illness. That was when Cilix dropped the divorce bomb. He played the bankruptcy card during the split, claiming all assets were tied up. Bella was left with scraps. However, once the divorce papers were signed, Cilix's business miraculously bounced back. Ever the opportunist, Cilix kept footing Bella's medical bills, basking in the glow of his newfound reputation. Madeline only pieced it all together as she grew up—her mother had been played. She had been nursing a plan to set things right ever since. The meeting ended with frosty treatment all around. Madeline shut the door behind them, collapsed onto the couch, and lost herself in the darkness outside the window. … Dawn's light crept into the room. Madeline shielded her eyes and took a moment to adjust before getting up reluctantly. Nausea washed over her in an unforgiving wave. Trevon had not come home all night. Madeline's emotions were a mess—resignation laced with a hint of disappointment. However, above all, there was relief. It was as if her decision to let go the day before had freed her from hope. Madeline sank back into the pillows. The click of the electronic lock signaled an arrival at the door. Madeline glanced up, and there was Lydia, swathed in designer elegance, striding in with a smile that could light up the room. "Madeline, it's been ages." Rising slowly, Madeline perched on the edge of the couch, her eyes a storm of loathing. "Who said you could come in? Leave!" Lydia's smile only grew. "Trevon sent me, of course. He spent last night at the hospital with me, then dashed off to work at dawn. He asked me to pick up a suit for him." A shadow crossed Madeline's face. So, Trevon was with Lydia last night. She had waited like a fool on that couch all night long, clinging to his promise. 'We'll talk when I get back.' "You're just like your mother, always the homewrecker," Madeline spat. Lydia's laughter rang out. "Who's the real homewrecker? It's the unloved one. Even the lock's code is my birthday. Trevon's heart is still with me. Madeline, you've been using my birthday to open this door for the past three years. That must sting, doesn't it?" Madeline's eyes flickered, her grip tightening on the blanket. She inhaled sharply before smiling mockingly. "Is technology that archaic where you come from? We've moved on to facial recognition, or fingerprints at the very least. Key codes are a thing of the past." Lydia's smile faltered, her composure slipping for a split second. "Outdated or not, Trevon's word is law." Madeline could not be bothered with petty squabble. Her nausea was getting worse. She gestured toward Trevon's bedroom. "His stuff's in there. Help yourself." With a smug grin, Lydia disappeared into the room and emerged moments later, a bundle of clothes in her arms. Before she took off, she sauntered over to Madeline, flashed her hand, and there it was—a dazzling diamond ring. There was also that cutesy pink bandage on her finger. "My mom says you're dragging your feet on the divorce—kinda funny, don't you think? Trevon's put a ring on it, so why embarrass yourself? Time to get a clue." She leaned in, whispering to Madeline, "Face it, you've never been able to outdo me in anything since we were kids." Old memories came rushing back. Her favorite things, her mentors, her dad, her very home—Lydia had snatched them all away with just a few words. Madeline squinted and swiftly yanked the bandage off Lydia's hand. "You've always been into taking my stuff, huh?" She eyed Lydia's pristine hand and tossed the bandage into the bin with a look of disgust. "Bandages are disposable. Get a new one, and it's as good as ever. However, you know what's really scary about a guy who's been down the aisle twice?" Madeline rose to her feet, locking eyes with Lydia as she smiled slyly. "It's the lingering lessons from his ex. His style, habits, tastes, thoughts—they're all tinged with the ghost of the woman before you. Chew on that. Good luck." "Madeline!" Ignoring her, Madeline grabbed a bag of clothes and thrust it into Lydia's arms. "So long, no need for goodbyes!" Behind the wheel on her way to work, Lydia smacked the steering wheel, Madeline's parting shot replaying in her head. The phone buzzed. Lydia answered with a huff. "What's up with the wake-up call?" Wren Naylor, Lydia's assistant, hesitated before speaking up with caution. "Ms. Sanders, the planning team wants to add an illustrator to the project. They've already picked someone out." "They've what now? Since when does planning get to call the shots on art hires? They really need to stay in their lane." Wren stayed quiet. Lydia bit back her frustration. "Alright, I'm heading to the office soon. I'll sort it out with them." Instead of going to her department when she arrived at the office, Lydia went to the top floor to drop off some clothes for Trevon. Trevon accepted the clothes, but his brow creased in confusion. Lydia felt a twinge of worry. "Something wrong with the clothes?" They were definitely not his usual brand. Madeline would not slip up like that. "Madeline wasn't there when you picked these up?" Realizing the brand mismatch, Lydia understood her mistake. Madeline's earlier words echoed in her head. Lydia bit her lip, looking hurt. "Madeline just handed me these and shooed me out when I arrived. You know she's never been fond of me." She sighed resignedly and continued, "Typical Madeline, knowing you're in a rush and still acting petty with me. Should I run to the store and grab you a new set?" Trevon cut her off. "Don't bother. You've got work to do." Lydia clammed up, stepping back into silence. Trevon let out a quiet sigh. "Don't sweat it. It's not your fault. Clothes are the least of our worries. We've got the Skylandia project to focus on." In just a week, Skylandia would unveil its magical realms to eager eyes, with artistry at its heart. Lydia, fresh from her hiatus, was steering that ship—the crown jewel of the year for Xystos Tech. She knew the drill, but duty called, and she stepped out with a promise to return for lunch. Madeline, alone then, rinsed a handful of cherry tomatoes, trying to quell the unease bubbling inside her. She scrolled through her phone, the barrage of prenatal check-ups looming large and daunting. Midway through her meticulous note-taking, the doorbell chimed. She opened the door to find Simon pulling a long face. Chapter 4 "Mr. Gibson sent me some clothes." Madeline raised an eyebrow. "Again?" Simon's eyes flickered with annoyance as he asked, "Why'd you send Mrs. Yagle's clothes?" Simon referred to Trevon's mom, Riley Yagle—a woman whose kindness was only matched by her absentmindedness. Madeline recalled the ill-fitting, off-brand clothes that Trevon probably ditched without a second thought. "Mr. Gibson says, 'Don't get snippy and hold things up,'" Simon relayed with a hint of sternness. Madeline could not help but chuckle, amused by his blind trust. "Lydia told Trevon I picked out the clothes?" Did Trevon need to believe everything Lydia said? Simon rushed her along. Madeline handed him a fresh set of clothes, but her grip lingered as she responded steadily. "Simon, you've been Trevon's right-hand man for what, three, four years now? Do you realize why you're still at the bottom rung, just an assistant? You're good at sizing people up by their titles, but that's not really a skill an assistant needs. Why don't you take a page from Mr. Harris's book?" Trevon did have a star assistant—Daniel Harris—who was so capable that he was sent overseas to handle big deals. That was when Simon got the call to step in. Simon's face went through a mixture of pale and flushed as he absorbed her criticism. Madeline, who was usually quiet, had just thrown shade in his face. He bit back his retort, finally huffing in annoyance and storming off. Madeline let out a soft laugh, brushing off the encounter. With visiting hours ticking closer, Madeline headed to Sunshine Psychiatric Hospital to see Bella. It was more of a wellness retreat than a hospital, nestled right next to Redenbaugh City's fanciest private clinic. Getting in was not easy, but thanks to the Gibson family pulling strings, Bella got a spot. Madeline wheeled her mom out into the courtyard, catching her up on the week's gossip and happenings. Bella was her usual self—unresponsive and staring off into space. Madeline sighed and took her mom's hand, resting it gently on her belly. "Mom, right here, there's a little one on the way. Even with Trevon talking about divorce, I'm keeping this baby. You've got to come back to us. Who will help me with this little one if you don't?" She nestled against Bella's legs, craving the comfort of her mother's presence. Unseen by Madeline, Bella's eyes flickered—a brief, almost missed flutter. "Madeline?" A voice, laced with surprise, called out for her. Madeline looked up to see a man in a lab coat looking her way. The sun was blinding, and Madeline squinted without recognizing the figure before her. There was something oddly familiar about the silhouette. It was not until he was close that she could see it was Caleb Jabs, her old college friend. With a warm smile, Caleb teased, "Madeline, can't you recognize an old friend after just three years?" He opened his arms for a hug, like nothing had changed. Madeline hesitated, then offered a hand for a handshake instead. Caleb's smile faltered, then returned. "Right, we're not on campus anymore." He shook her hand before releasing it, stealing a glance at the wedding ring on her finger. Through their chat, Madeline learned that he had just returned from overseas and that his uncle was running the local private hospital. Caleb nodded toward Bella with a slight smile. "And who is this?" Madeline's smile vanished. "My mom. She's been like this since she had a breakdown three years ago." A breakdown? It looked serious, as if she had lost all touch with the world. What could have caused it? Caleb pushed down his questions, his heart aching for Madeline. "These past three years must've been tough on you." Madeline seemed more grounded than in her college days, but her eyes were shadowed with concern. Madeline shook her head. "It's time for us to head back." She was not one to bare her soul to just anyone. As she rose to leave, she wobbled slightly. Caleb reached out to steady her. "You're looking a bit pale. Maybe you should get checked out." Madeline steadied herself and took a step back. "It's just low blood sugar. I'm fine." Caleb watched Madeline sidestep with a calm smile, not the least bit ruffled. "Back in college, you were always dealing with low blood sugar. Still battling that, huh? Skipped breakfast today?" He was already taking the wheelchair's handles as he spoke, and Madeline allowed it. They got Bella settled and swapped numbers. Then, Caleb pressed a chocolate bar into her hand. "For your sugar levels, have a bite." Madeline's laughter bubbled up. "Caleb, you still keep chocolate on you after all this time?" "Just a habit," he said with a chuckle. That little piece of chocolate seemed to bridge the gap that had grown between them. "How about lunch? It's already noon." Madeline bit her lip, uncertain. However, Caleb was already tugging her along. "There's this great little place I know nearby. You'll love it." Trevon managed to swing by the hospital after his meeting wrapped up. The doctors gave him a clean bill of health. They suggested bringing Madeline in, thinking she might be the key to why he felt off. He left the hospital with that thought, only to see Madeline and Caleb, all smiles, heading into a cozy diner. Madeline's smile was something new, something he had never seen, and it stopped him in his tracks. He took a moment before climbing into his car. From the driver's seat, Simon caught Trevon in the mirror. "Mr. Gibson, wasn't that Mrs. Gibson? Should we pick her up?" Trevon watched them disappear into the diner, a place he would never dream of entering. "No, let's not," he murmured. Simon arched an eyebrow, shot a look of faint scorn at the diner, and sped off. Trevon was reclining in the back seat, eyes closed, soaking in a moment of peace. A few minutes in, a wave of relief washed over him, leaving him feeling surprisingly refreshed. It took him a moment to realize that he was embodying Madeline's happiness. What could possibly be so special about that little shop to make her that cheerful? However, that sour beef and cabbage soup with noodles they served was exceptional—tangy and invigorating. It had been days since Madeline had enjoyed a meal so thoroughly. She even decided to get an extra serving to go. Caleb chuckled. "Noodles never taste as good reheated. Wait, didn't you love spicy food? What's with the switch?" Madeline smiled. "I haven't really switched. This is just that good." She was known for her love of spicy dishes, and even Trevon, the health nut, had found his tastes swayed by her. It was hard to argue with Madeline's culinary magic. Her cooking was irresistible to most. Back home, Madeline had barely set down her takeout when her phone rang. It was Yeneth Collins, her best friend. "Madeline, I've got some good and bad news." Feeling a bit worn out, Madeline sank into the couch. "Go on." "The good news is that you've been chosen to draw the new character for Skylandia. They've sent the contract over to you already." A spark of excitement flickered across Madeline's face as she reached for her laptop to check her email. "And the bad news?" Yeneth sighed heavily. "Lydia is the new art director for Skylandia. She just got the job today. I wouldn't have pushed you to take this gig if I'd known." Since marrying Trevon right after college, Madeline had not returned to the workforce, finding solace and passion in her art. Her style was distinctive, not exactly mainstream, with a focus on creating captivating illustrations. When Yeneth got involved with Skylandia, she thought Madeline's artwork was a perfect fit and put her name forward. Madeline smiled. "No way. The contract's terms are decent. Can't miss an opportunity of making money just because of her." She was always hustling for cash, especially with Bella's medical bills piling up. It meant biting her tongue whenever the Sanders family got tight-fisted. "Are you sure you're okay with this?" "Totally. I freelance under the name 'Lily Mora'. Who will connect the dots?" Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a door swinging open as Trevon walked in. Chapter 5 Madeline's instinct was to snap her laptop shut. "Give me a second." She quickly ended the call and turned to face Trevon. "What's got you home at this hour?" Trevon eyed her hurried movements and washed his hands before replying, "Just needed to pick something up." Madeline responded with a noncommittal hum. His gaze landed on a nearby takeaway box. It was the sour beef and cabbage soup with noodles. It looked just like the one she had had for lunch. Was it really that tasty? A jolt of panic hit Madeline, and she blurted out, "It's for Yeneth, not me." Back when they were newlyweds, Madeline had grabbed some street sausages, and Trevon had gone into a tailspin, bombarding her with articles about the filth of street vendors and the dangers of eating out. Since then, she had avoided eating street food around him. However, she had slipped up and forgotten to stash the evidence. Trevon's chuckle was detached as his eyes drifted to a notebook on the table. Madeline's heart was pounding, and she pushed aside the wave of nausea to dash toward the notebook—her secret journal of conceive appointments. The last thing she wanted was for Trevon to find out she was expecting. However, Trevon was quicker. He stretched out his arm and lifted the notebook from Madeline's reach. Without regard for her protests, he calmly flipped it open. The 'Prenatal Appointment Schedule' header stared back at him. He raised an eyebrow, his cool gaze landing on Madeline. Madeline felt her heart jump into her throat. "Is this for Yeneth, too?" Trevon asked. "Huh?" Caught off guard, Madeline quickly nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Yeneth's getting married, thinking about having kids, so I was helping her research." Trevon's suspicion did not wane. "So, why the panic?" Madeline's forehead creased. She let go of the notebook and looked away. "I didn't want you to think I was up to something." Madeline's beauty was marred by her recent illness. Her pale face was then tinged with the flush of sickness, making her look even more vulnerable. Trevon felt a twinge in his chest, and his annoyance grew. Her cold was messing with his work. He tossed the notebook back to Madeline. "I don't have time for this. You should be resting, not running around. If you show up to a divorce proceeding looking like this, people will think I'm the bad guy." Madeline silently clutched the notebook with her head bowed. … At the steakhouse, Lydia stared at her barely touched steak, her mood souring by the minute. When she heard Trevon returned to the Angelic Garden Residence, her annoyance turned to outright anger. "Madeline, that witch!" She whipped out her phone and dialed Skylar's number. Madeline had just reviewed the casting call from Skylandia, wrapped up her draft, and was stretching after a long day when Skylar's call came through. "Get over here tonight. If you don't show up, I'm tossing your mom's stuff." The line went dead. Madeline thought she had taken care of all Bella's things, so what could possibly be left at the Sanders' place? She could not risk it, so she hailed a cab and headed over. The Sanders' mansion was ablaze with lights, screaming new money from every gilded corner. Madeline stood at the entrance, taking in the garish display, and figured Skylar was behind it. Skylar greeted her with a grin, tugging her inside. "I just knew you'd come." Madeline jerked her hand away. "Cut the act, Skylar. There's no one else here. I did what you asked, so where's my mom's stuff?" Chapter 6 Before Skylar could answer, a sharp snap echoed from the side. "Madeline, watch how you talk to my mom!" It was Yale Sanders, Lydia's little brother. With his shoulder-length purple hair and arms sleeved in tattoos, he looked every bit the wannabe gangster. He had been coddled by Skylar all his life, and with the Sanders' wealth, he had gathered a gang of street toughs to back him up. Madeline did not expect him to be there but gave him a cool look and brushed him off. Just then, Cilix descended the stairs, his voice cutting through the air. "Yale!" Yale sulked, his lips puckered as he flopped onto the sofa, clearly annoyed. Cilix motioned for Madeline to take a seat at the dining table. "It's not every day we get your sister back home. I figured a family dinner was in order. Have a seat, will you? I had Mom whip up your favorite fish tacos." Skylar quickly dished some out for her. The oily sheen and the subtle fishy scent made Madeline wrinkle her nose and push the plate away. "I caught a cold and lost my appetite. I'm just here to grab a few things, and I'll be out." Cilix squinted, and Skylar, unable to contain herself, plopped down next to Madeline. "When are you planning on divorcing Trevon, huh? Your dad and I have already scoped out a new guy for you. He's ready to tie the knot and won't wait forever." A resigned feeling washed over Madeline. With a mocking smile, she murmured, "Really? Who's this wonderful match?" Skylar perked up and replied, "He's from a solid family. One of your dad's business partners. The guy owns a string of factories. Marry him, and you'll be the boss. They wouldn't even look twice at a divorcee if it wasn't for your dad's connections." She made it sound like a fairy tale. Madeline cut to the chase. "The owner of these factories? How old?" Skylar hesitated, then chuckled. "Not too old. He's just a bit over forty and in the prime of his life. It'll be your second marriage, so you can't afford to be choosy. Plus, they've promised to cut your dad a deal if you marry in. Consider it a tribute to your mom." Three years had passed, and Madeline's disdain for her family's ways was as strong as ever. She glared at Cilix. "Over forty? You're okay with this, being not much older yourself?" Cilix looked pained as he spoke, "Skylar's just trying to do what's best for you. Remarrying and bringing your mom into the mix, finding someone okay with that wasn't easy. Skylar really went out of her way for you." Skylar nodded earnestly. It had indeed been a challenge. Madeline needed to be married off and kept far away to avoid causing Lydia any more headaches. "Don't worry, the guy doesn't have kids. Everything in the future will be yours and your children's. It's a real stroke of luck." Madeline suddenly chimed in, "It's true. These kinds of terms are hard to come by. You've really outdone yourself, but…" Breaking from her usual composure, Madeline locked eyes with Cilix. "I was clear yesterday. I just want what my mom is entitled to—her shares. Those shares are peanuts compared to being Mrs. Gibson of the Gibson family." Cilix remained expressionless, but his eyes were calculative. "Your mom's shares?" Thinking she had swayed Cilix, Skylar piped up in a shrill tone. "What shares does her mother have? The Sanders family fortune is all thanks to me and Cilix. It's got nothing to do with your loony mom." Madeline's glare whipped towards Skylar, sharp enough to shut her up. "Apologize." "Why should I? Your mom's the crazy one." Without warning, a cup of scalding water splashed across Skylar's face, and she let out a scream. However, before Madeline could react, she was yanked back forcefully. A second later, she was punched in the face. "You owe her an apology!" Chapter 7 Each word Yale spat was accompanied by a punch landing on Madeline. Madeline shielded herself with her purse, narrowly avoiding a serious injury. Blinded by anger, she had not thought things through, never imagining Yale would actually hit her. Conceived had left her weak, and she could only dodge Yale's vicious blows in a clumsy dance of desperation. The Sanders family seemed petrified by the spectacle, each too scared to even twitch. Cilix wanted to speak, but Skylar cut him off. "What's Yale got, a little muscle? Let her take a hit. It might teach her to listen." Cilix's face darkened as he sat back down. She had written her dad off long ago, but the sting of disappointment was as sharp as ever. As Yale moved in again, Madeline knew she was on her own. With a swift kick, she toppled a chair and snatched a fruit knife from the table, aiming it straight at him. "One more step, and I swear I'll stab you!" Yale, thrown off by the chair, nearly slipped. He wiped his mouth and sneered. "You think you've got the guts?" Knife in hand, Madeline's face was ghostly, but her eyes blazed with defiance, "Try me. I'm still Mrs. Gibson of the Gibson family. If I take you down, they'll make sure it never sees the light of day." Her gaze flicked to Cilix. "You think our dad's got the spine to cross the Gibsons for you?" Yale did not budge. Skylar stepped forward with a nervous chuckle. "Come on, we're family. Knives? Really? Madeline, put it down." Madeline looked at Skylar icily and aimed the knife at her. "Stay back." Skylar froze, then looked pleadingly at Cilix. Cilix broke the silence. "Madeline, what's going on?" Madeline stood there with a cold expression, ignoring the blood that had started to drip from the corner of her mouth. She bit her lip, refusing to say a word. The recent scuffle had taken a toll on her, leaving her with a heavy feeling in her chest. She was afraid she would throw up if she opened her mouth. However, she was determined not to let them see her weakness. Amid the tense moment, the nanny burst in with unexpected joy. "Mr. Gibson and Ms. Sanders have arrived!" The pair entered the room. Trevon's face was a mask of seriousness, his lips pressed into a thin line. Lydia, catching sight of the knife in Madeline's grip, let out a sharp cry. "Madeline! Why are you holding a knife? What are you planning to do?" Cilix rose swiftly to welcome Trevon. "Mr. Gibson, please come in. Let's sit and talk. Madeline, put that knife down now." With a glance at Trevon, Madeline reluctantly set the knife aside. Skylar exhaled in relief and grumbled, "This is all Madeline's doing, causing a scene for no reason. Since when do we bring knives into family disputes?" Madeline inhaled deeply, pushing down the wave of nausea, and retorted with a frosty laugh. "So, now it's all my fault, just like that? I'm trying to do the right thing here, and I'm still the one to blame?" "Is this enough for you?" Trevon's voice, frosty and laced with anger, cut through the room. He had been feeling sick to his stomach the whole way there. That sensation had become all too familiar in the last couple of days, and he did not need to guess—it was Madeline's doing again. He had warned her just at lunchtime to take it easy, but what did she do? She ran off to her family's home to pick a fight, knife in hand. She might not be bothered by it, but he was fed up. The room fell silent. Madeline looked at him in disbelief. Was he really going to blame her without even asking why? Trevon had no interest in dragging out the conversation. He grabbed Madeline's hand and led her away with urgency. Madeline stumbled as he pulled her along, a sharp pain throbbing in her heart. Lydia tried to keep up, her voice tinged with concern. "Trevon, you haven't eaten yet." He barely paused, his voice dismissive. "Some other time." With that, he ushered Madeline into the car and shut the door behind her.	LEARN_MORE	https://beokn.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=10922&ut	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61560831098071/	21	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	beokn.com	DCO		https://beokn.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=10922&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/449688956_1121940968889821_4588828897944407849_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=103&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=1xpXM3_Z3ncQ7kNvgGLbpZo&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AP5q0ozZf30gICEzfEtgHUJ&oh=00_AYB9ZdQ0LlwHyNIpVSpbJhZbry0GiaMuVrHrmKmShLdTUA&oe=6756C63B	PERSON_PROFILE	0	0	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,587,911	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2587908}'	Yes	2024-12-04 20:33	active	1960		🎁 Raffle Sneak Peek! The countdown is officially over: TOMORROW we come together for an evening of holiday magic, community spirit, and the joy of giving back! 🌟🎄 🗓️ Doors open tomorrow at 5:30pm for the 7th Annual HIDALGO COUNTY BAIL BOND ASSOCIATION HOLIDAY MIXER & TOY DRIVE, bring your toys, your holiday spirit, and your dancing shoes. Let’s make this holiday season unforgettable for our community. 🌟 🎟️ Over 70 Raffle Prizes to win! ✨ Here’s How It Works: For every unwrapped toy you bring, you’ll earn 1 raffle entry—so bring 5 toys, and you’ll get 5 chances to win! The more you give, the greater your chances to take home one of these incredible prizes. 🎶 Live Entertainment by Texas Dream/Sueño Tejano RGV to get everyone dancing to popular country, Tejano, and alternative hits! ✨ Exciting Additions This Year: 📸 A 360 Insta Party Booths with fun props to get you in the Christmas spirit! 🎄 A special appearance by Santa andthe Grinch, stop by for a festive photo op! 🧸 Don’t forget, all the toys we collect will be delivered on Christmas Eve by Judge Bobby Flores (Team Blessed), spreading joy to families in need. 🙏 Thank You to Our Sponsors for Making This Event Possible: 🌟 Ted Ruiz / Safety Check (Mobile Alcohol Breathalyzer Drug Patch) 🌟 Judge Sergio Valdez 🌟 Law Office of Richard D Gonzales, PC 🌟 Lerma's Notary Public 🌟 South Texas Bail Bonds 🌟 Norman Cordova / Cordova Bail Bonds 🌟 Emmanuel Espinoza Law Group, PLLC 🌟 Rene Ortega Jr / A-Budget Bail Bonds 🌟 A-Quick Bail Bonds 🌟 David's Bail Bonds 🌟 Del Valle Tax Services 🌟 Judge Patty O'Caña-Olivarez 🌟 Crum and Forster / Bail USA 🌟 A FAST Bail Bonds - Hidalgo Co. 🌟 Pbtx An Assoc ⭐️ American Surety Company 🙏 Also Thank You to Our Raffle Sponsors for Making the Magic Happen: 🎁 911 Bail Bonds 🎁 Judge Armando J. Marroquin, County Court at Law 10 🎁 De La Fuente & Solis 🎁 Ramon Segovia for Justice of the Peace Pct. 3 Place 1 🎁 Judge Mario Ramirez 🎁 A-MINGO BAIL BONDS 🎁 A FAST Bail Bonds - Hidalgo Co. 🎁 Pbtx An Assoc #HolidayGiving #CommunityStrong #Grateful #MixerAndToyDrive #HolidayGiving #RafflePrizes #BringAToy #CommunityStrong #TomorrowIsTheDay #SpreadJoy			Hidalgo County Bail Bond Association	https://www.facebook.com/HCBBA/	19,941	1969-12-31 18:00			MULTI_IMAGES			1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/469213181_894561406217163_7466369714141399328_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=109&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=9t_uQwUBR54Q7kNvgE5aPx5&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=A_iGgtSjl0g6hPPtm3XA919&oh=00_AYB070R-SwOtKIXDwDl7V_ye_REDTvn0b38RyYmshI3RaA&oe=6756C0E1	PERSON_PROFILE	0	0	Hidalgo County Bail Bond Association	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,586,400	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	No	2024-12-04 20:33	active	1960	Read next chapter	Emerging from the confines of marriage, she blossomed from a mundane housewife to a renowned painter with a legion of admirers. When her ex-husband sought reconciliation at her doorstep, he witnessed her in the arms of a prominent man. "Meet your new sister-in-law!" ===== In the dimly lit, opulent private cinema, the most exclusive jewelry auction was being broadcast live. "One million, going once, going twice--" The rich cadence of the auctioneer's voice echoed through the room, the man tightened his grip around Alicia Bennett's waist... With the intensity between them only grew fiercer as time passed... The auctioneer's gavel fell. "Sold for ten million! Let's give a round of applause to Mr. Joshua Yates!" The name struck Alicia like a lightning bolt. Her body instantly went rigid, something that the man couldn't help but notice, flicked lazily toward the screen. The camera zoomed in on Joshua Yates's face, every detail of his familiar features displayed in perfect clarity. "Joshua Yates, the second son of the Yates family... an acquaintance perhaps?" he drawled, the corners of his mouth tugging into a sly smile. Alicia's frown deepened. The last thing she wanted was to discuss it, she didn't respond. The man, upon seeing the situation, chuckled lightly before his movements grew even more relentless... ...... When it was over, Alicia took advantage of the man's time in the shower and quietly made her escape. When Caden Ward finally emerged from the bathroom, not catching sight of the woman's figure, he curled his lips slightly. Moments later, his assistant, Hank Ford, burst into the room, clearly on edge, "Er, apologies, Mr. Ward. I let my guard down. Give me a moment, and I'll have her brought back immediately." They had just returned to the country, taking every precaution. And yet, a woman had managed to slip through the cracks of their security. Caden's features calm, almost indifferent. "No need. I was... a willing participant." Hank's eyes widened in shock. In all the time he'd known Caden, the man had never slept with a woman,even physical contact. There were even rumors that Caden might suffer from some secret ailment. Yet now, those whispers seemed to evaporate in the face of this unexpected turn of events. Before Hank could make sense of it, Caden's deep voice pulled him back to reality. "I want you to look into Joshua's personal life. Have the report on my desk in half an hour." Tonight, Alicia had stumbled into his room, feverish and desperate. It was obvious she'd been framed. And then came the revelation--Alicia was still a pureness. Two years of marriage to Joshua... Yet she was still untouched? Caden's lips curled into a satisfied smile. But as he reflected, one thing became abundantly clear--Alicia had no idea who she'd been with due to the dug's effects. ... By the time Alicia returned home, the first light of dawn filtered through the windows. Only then did she realize how long she had been out. But before she could dwell any further, her phone rang. It was her bestie, Monica Flynn, calling. "Alicia!" Monica practically screeched from the other end of the line, her voice high-pitched with worry. "How are you now?" Alicia exhaled deeply, kicking off her shoes carelessly. "I've been better," she murmured. Monica's anger bubbled over, her words sharp and unrelenting. "Joshua's beyond disgusting! If he doesn't want to stay married, he should just grow a spine and divorce you already! What kind of sick man would scheme against his own wife?" The sharp pain of betrayal shot through Alicia's chest. Yesterday was their second anniversary. Joshua had texted her, suggesting they celebrate. Daring to hope he had changed, she had dressed up to the nine's, only to be met with disappointment and a dug-laced drink that sent her spiraling into a night of confusion and chaos. Was Joshua really the mastermind behind this? Swallowing the bitterness that tried clawing its way to the surface, Alicia forced herself to climb the stairs, her movements slow and weary. "It's fine, Monica. I'll handle it." Monica, ever protective, wasn't convinced. "'Handle it'? What do you mean you'll handle it? Just say the word, and I'll be over in a heartbeat." Alicia couldn't help the small, tired smile that tugged at her lips, hanging up the phone. But her heart still felt heavy, just as she lost focus, the door to her bedroom creaked open. She lifted her gaze, and almost instantly, her stomach dropped. There, fresh from a shower, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, stood Joshua. He stared down at her. Chapter 2 Divorce Alicia snapped out of her daze as soon as she met the icy gaze of Joshua, her so-called husband. His expression remained unchanged, cold and indifferent as ever, as though he was looking at a stranger. The only thing out of place was the scars on his lips. A wave of disgust washed over her, she pushed him away and was about to enter. Joshua frowned, his hand shooting out to grab her wrist. "Alicia, what's with the attitude?" He seemed quite unhappy with her this time, which was a rare thing, considering how little he bothered to come home. Normally, Alicia would have welcomed him back with open arms, a flicker of joy lighting up her tired features, but today she looked drained, almost hollow. She didn't resist his grip, meeting his gaze with a calmness that unnerved him. "Haven't I always been like this? Obedient, sensible, making sure the house is in order, ensuring you're comfortable, ready to give your best at work." A small, bitter smile tugged at her lips. "Isn't that what you like most about me? It makes things easier for you, doesn't it? Frees up time for your other... 'special someone'." Joshua's eyes darkened at the veiled accusation. Denial hovered on his lips, but he didn't bother. Why should he? He dropped her hand and said gruffly, "Actually, that's why I'm here. We need to talk." Alicia vigorously rubbed her wrist, as though she was trying to erase his touch. "So, are you planning to finally go public with her?" Joshua's expression twisted instantly, his calm facade cracking. "What do you know? Did you have me stalked by a private investigator or something?" Alicia let out a soft, humorless laugh. "Is that necessary? Last night, you spared no expense to make her happy. Even a blind person could tell you're mad about her." He stared at her, unsettled by her icy tone. It was still her voice, still Alicia, but there was something different about her... For some reason, he felt inexplicably hurt, like a thorn pricking his heart. Perhaps it was the way she looked at him now--her eyes, once warm and filled with love for him, were now completely empty. There was no anger, no pain, just... nothing. It was a stark contrast to the woman who used to look at him as if he were her entire world. For reasons he couldn't explain, the sight of her like this stirred something in him, an unfamiliar dissatisfaction. Annoyed by his own reaction, Joshua decided to hit back, his voice harder now. "She's pregnant. It's a delicate pregnancy, so I bought her a little something to lift her spirits." Alicia's fists clenched before she could stop them. Pgnant? So, the nights she had stayed up waiting for him to come home, he'd been with another woman, working diligently to start a new family? Seeing Alicia wince a little, Joshua felt a flicker of satisfaction. "It's not that I don't want to touch you," he said, voice dripping with condescension. "You're just about as thrilling as watching paint dry. No man would want that." His cruel words pierced through Alicia, yet she managed to remain composed on the surface. It wasn't that she avoided intimacy; she just wasn't the one to initiate it. Did that make her so undesirable? Was it a sin? Taking a slow, steady breath, Alicia willed herself to stay calm. "Fine," she replied quietly. "Let's get a divorce then. You can give her the title she wants." The word "divorce" made Joshua's eyelid twitch involuntarily. He scoffed, eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Is this another one of your games?" Convinced he was right, his voice grew colder, more biting. "Alicia, for two years, you've pulled every childish stunt, begging for my attention. Aren't you tired yet? Because I sure as hell am." He paused, letting his disdain sink in. "You claim to love me so much. Could you really walk away from me?" Alicia couldn't help the bitter laugh that escaped her. Love him? Did he even understand what that meant? When Joshua's business had crumbled, leaving him with nothing but debt and shattered dreams, it had been Alicia who emptied her savings to pull him from the wreckage. Out of gratitude--or maybe obligation--he had married her. For two long years, she had been the dutiful wife, supporting him as he clawed his way to success. And what had Alicia gotten in return? She had been cast aside like a useless relic, while another woman carried his child. Her love, her loyalty, had been ground into the dirt beneath his feet. To care for this man any longer would be masochism. Her voice steady, Alicia said, "Draft the divorce agreement. I'll agree to whatever terms you want." And with that, she turned and disappeared through the door, leaving Joshua standing alone in the hallway. For a moment, he stared after her angrily, but then a cold, mocking smile tugged at his lips. Fine, she can play the martyr. He doubted she could keep it up for long. Storming out of the house, Joshua headed straight to the apartment where his lover, Lilliana Green, awaited him. "Well, that was fast," she teased upon hearing Joshua was getting a divorce, raising a brow. "Seems she wasn't as tough to deal with as you claimed." "She's cunning," Joshua muttered, the edge of suspicion creeping into his voice. "I don't know if she's actually agreeing to the divorce or just playing me." Lilliana's arms draping lazily around his neck, "Relax, Joshua, even if she changes her mind, it's too late." Joshua's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" Chapter 3 Letting Go Lilliana's eyes flickered with shadowy intent. She wasn't foolish enough to show her cards now, so she waved it off with an effortless excuse. "During your two-year marriage, she has lived quietly in the shadows as a mere housewife, disconnected from your world. When you're assertive, would she dare to say a word?" Joshua pursed his lips into a hard line. During the past two years, Alicia had indeed done everything for him--given him support and solace. She had loved him fiercely, but at the end of it all, what value did love truly hold? Against all odds, he had clawed his way to the top, and he'd finally grasped the power he craved. That success, however, hadn't come easy, and it wasn't love that secured his position--it was alliances with the powerful. The prestige of the Green family daughter, that title alone, was worth far more than Alicia's devoted love. As these thoughts plagued his mind, Lilliana said happily, "Joshua, congratulations on escaping the grind. Shall we celebrate?" For a moment, Joshua's gaze flickered down to her, but Alicia's indifferent face suddenly flashed before his eyes. Since leaving the house earlier, Alicia hadn't once called him to ask for his whereabouts. Before, if he had been upset with her, she would've called him in a panic. A sharp, inexplicable irritation surged within him. Without thinking, he pushed Lilliana back, "You're only a few weeks' pregnant. Be careful." Lilliana, sharp as ever, sensed he was distracted. "Joshua, what's wrong?" she asked gently. "Don't you want to get divorced?" Joshua's response was instant. "Of course I want to divorce her." Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. "Then why don't you seem very happy?" Joshua offered a quick excuse, his voice steady but distant. "My father's condition has worsened. He doesn't have much time left, and Caden returned last night. He's likely here to claim his inheritance. I need to figure out how to handle him." Lilliana blinked, momentarily thrown. "Caden? Your brother from your father's first marriage? He doesn't even carry the Yates name anymore. What right does he have to fight you for the inheritance?" Joshua's expression darkened. It was true--but at the end of the day, he was still the son of a home-wrecker. All these years of relentless effort had not only been to carve out a name for himself in the Yates family, but to push Caden into the shadows where he belonged. One way or another, Joshua was hell-bent on winning. Meanwhile, Alicia stirred from her sleep. Darkness had already fallen, yet she felt even more drained than before. It was because her dreams revolved around that stranger. when her phone buzzed with a call from Monica did she snap out of her daze. "Alicia, I got your bld test results. I passed them to a friend of mine with some serious connections. He's digging around to see who bought the stuff." Alicia sat up a little straighter, her mind sharpening. "Thanks, Monica. Appreciate it." "If you really want to thank me, do me a favor: stop obsessing over that j*k. And after the divorce, focus on your career. You owe me that much." Alicia's chest warmed, her head lowering in quiet gratitude. "I know, I know." Now that she thought about it, she had come to the realization that her feelings for Joshua had never been pure love--they were born out of a debt, a sense of obligation. Her family's expectations had always weighed heavily on her, and in that lonely, stifled childhood, it was Joshua who had been there. His companionship had nurtured a vague affection she'd confused for love. "Lucky for me, love's never been something I've held onto tightly," Alicia murmured. "These last two years... I'll just see it as repaying his kindness." Monica paused, her usual boldness tempered with thoughtfulness. She knew better than anyone how, once upon a time, Joshua had indeed loved Alicia. But, it turned out love could be a fleeting thing. "Alicia, I really hope you've let go for good," Monica said with a convicted sigh. A sharp pang hit Alicia's chest, her eyes stinging as she fought back the urge to cry. Quickly, she pressed her hand to her eyelids, refusing to let the tears fall. It was only then she noticed something startling. Stunned, she stared at her hand. The wedding ring--something she had once held onto so tightly--was gone. Gone for a whole day and night, and she hadn't even noticed. Suddenly, her heart felt lighter, the weight of everything she'd been carrying beginning to lift. She whispered, more to herself than anyone, "Yes, I've truly let go." ... It didn't take long for Joshua to notice. He had returned to grab something quickly when his eyes fell on her hand. His brow furrowed as he asked, without thinking, "Where's your wedding ring?" Chapter 4 Her Nemesis Alicia's only concern now was leaving Joshua, so she ignored his question and asked flatly, "Are the divorce papers ready yet?" That word again--"divorce". Irritation flickered across Joshua's eyes. "What's the rush?" he snapped, his voice cold and sharp. "My father's finalizing his will, and if word gets out about my divorce, it'll ruin my standing. Now, pack your things--we're having dinner at the Yates Mansion this afternoon." With Caden's return, the family was throwing a welcome-home dinner for him. They also hoped that by doing so, it'd lift the spirits of Jerald Yates, Joshua's father. However, maintaining the charade of a happy marriage was the last thing on Alicia's mind. "I'm not going," she announced curtly. "Just get the divorce finalized and stop wasting my time." Joshua laughed, a sound that held no warmth. "Oh, come on, Alicia. Stop pretending. You hid the ring because you don't actually want to leave me, right? You can't stand the thought of being without me." He leaned in, smirking, and added, "You've worked hard these past two years. Even if we divorce, I'll still take care of you--as long as you keep me happy." Alicia's eyes widened, disbelief turning into anger. Hid the ring? Couldn't bear to be without him? His arrogant words sounded like nails on a chalkboard to Alicia's ears. With a sharp sneer, she shot back, "Oh, Mr. Yates, how could I possibly make you happy? Don't worry, I'll return the ring--wouldn't want this plain Jane to irk you, right? Once you have it, we're finalizing the divorce immediately." But Joshua wasn't fazed by her venom. He thought he knew her too well, convinced this was just another ploy to get his attention. Without thinking too much, he tossed a bag at her. "We've got guests today. Dress appropriately, and don't make me look bad." Alicia looked down at the bag, her mind flashing back to the countless times she had visited the mansion dressed in modest, unassuming clothes-- doing everything to blend in, to please him and his family. But now, with their divorce looming on the horizon, Alicia no longer cared to play the part of a dutiful wife. After slipping into the outfit, she carefully applied a touch of makeup, just enough to bring out the vibrance in her already flawless complexion. The subtle enhancements accentuated her smooth skin and delicate features, lending her a certain glow. When Joshua saw her descending the staircase, he froze for a brief moment, eyes lingering. Perhaps it was the way the dress hugged Alicia's graceful curves, making her seem more alluring than usual. At the entrance of the Yates Mansion, they both slipped into their familiar roles, masking the tension between them with practiced ease. Alicia casually looped her arm through Joshua's, their movements synchronized as they walked into the courtyard. Though Jerald was too ill to receive anyone, the grand hall bustled with life, relatives filling the space with chatter. The noise hummed around her, but for some reason, as soon as Alicia crossed the threshold, a sharp chill pricked at her skin. She instinctively looked up, her gaze immediately drawn to the figure lounging casually at the far end of the room. Legs crossed, dark shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a sliver of his collarbone, the man oozed arrogance, his presence commanding. When Alicia's eyes finally met his-- a familiar, authoritative stare that pinned her in place-- her mind raced as emotions began to surge uncontrollably. Joshua noticed the shift in her demeanor, his brows furrowing as he asked, "What's going on with you?" Alicia's breath caught in her throat. One word escaped her lips, barely audible. "Caden?" Just the mention of his name sent a chill down her spine. To her, Caden was the embodiment of her nightmares. Due to their families' friendship, their paths first crossed at the tender age of ten. Caden, having taken a year off, transferred to her school, and from that moment, Alicia's perfect world began to unravel. She could no longer claim the top spot. No matter how relentless her efforts, no matter how late she stayed up studying, Caden was always a step ahead. He would outscore her by the smallest of margins--a point, maybe two--leaving her perpetually stranded in second place. Anyone else might have accepted defeat, settled into the role of runner-up. But not Alicia. Born into the once prestigious Bennett family, she was raised under the suffocating weight of living up to her family name. Excellence wasn't just a goal--it was the currency by which she could earn her parents' affection. Failure was not an option, yet Caden had the audacity to snatch away everything she'd worked for with what seemed like effortless ease. It was as if he'd set his sights on her from the very beginning, and Alicia, stubborn to a fault, refused to back down. Their rivalry spanned over a decade, a relentless battle fought both openly and in the shadows, and their final showdown took place in college, just before their graduation, at the national competition. Alicia poured her heart and soul into that moment, her focus razor-sharp as she aimed for nothing less than perfection. And she achieved it, having garnered a perfect score. But Caden, ever the serpent, had bribed the judges, twisting the results in his favor. Alicia was forced, once again, into second place. The sting of injustice was deep, but the harshest blow came from her father, Phil Bennett. Over the phone, his voice dripped with disappointment in her ranking. Alicia, having grown accustomed to his tirades, said nothing. She waited for his anger to ebb, then asked quietly, "I'm graduating soon. Will you come back?" Her mother, Donna, had always been her softer solace. She comforted Alicia that day, promising they'd be there for her graduation. But life had other plans. Phil and Donna, rushing back from Itrubisite to attend the graduation, perished in a tragic plane crash. Overnight, Alicia's world crumbled, left an orphan in this cruel world. Since that day, she had never challenged Caden again. Afterward, Caden left Warrington to build his career overseas. ... "He's back for the inheritance," Joshua muttered, his voice barely audible. Alicia cast him a sidelong glance as he continued, "With a family empire as big as ours, an eldest son like him wouldn't give up so easily." Her brow furrowed slightly. It was true--the Yates empire was massive, a legacy most would kill for. But Caden had accumulated his own fortune, surpassing even the family's vast wealth. Did he really care about the inheritance? Then again, this was Caden. Competing was in his blood. Even if he didn't care about the fortune itself, he'd fight tooth and nail just to win, to toy with everyone else. The man had a knack for stirring chaos purely for his own amusement. Alicia had been his rival for as long as she could remember, and even now, the thought of giving him so much as a glance felt like a waste of energy. She turned to walk away. But Joshua caught her wrist, his grip firm yet tense. "I know you two don't get along," he said. "But he's still my elder brother. We need to maintain appearances." Her body stiffened at the touch, and she immediately tried to pull her hand free. Joshua's frown deepened. "Alicia, behave," he hissed. Irritation flared in her chest. "I'm not refusing to go in. Just let go of me first. I don't want your filthy hands touching me." A flicker of something dark passed over Joshua's face, and instead of releasing her, he intertwined their fingers, squeezing them tight. Alicia bit her tongue, silently fuming. As they neared, Caden's gaze slowly lifted, his eyes narrowing in a lazy, almost bored assessment of them. "Caden," Joshua greeted, his tone strained, meeting his brother's gaze with forced cordiality. Caden's eyes flicked to their entwined hands, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Your girlfriend?" he asked indifferently, as though he didn't recognize Alicia. Chapter 5 We Meet Again So Soon Alicia's nerves coiled tight like a spring. That voice... Her messy thoughts blurred into chaos, but one thing broke through the haze--Joshua's calm declaration. "Alicia and I have been married for two years now. She cares about me, so we kept it low-key. Just went straight for the registration; no ceremony. You were busy abroad at the time, so we didn't bother you." Caden arched a brow, his voice laced with venomous mockery. "Oh, so she's my sister-in-law." The way he spat the words "sister-in-law" felt more like a sap than a title, leaving no doubt about his contempt for her. Alicia could feel the man's sneer underneath every syllable. And all this was thanks to her so-called husband, Joshua. Her hand trembled as she snatched a tissue, vigorously wiping her hand. "Looks like Alicia's a bit of a germophobe," Caden observed, his tone a casual jab at her disgust. Joshua's expression darkened, the tension between them thickening. He hadn't expected her to humiliate him like this. "It seems I've spoiled her too much," he muttered, his voice low and tight with irritation. Caden's eyes gleamed with a dangerous glint. "If it's a serious condition, she should get treated. It could impact her role as a mother. You know how badly our father has wanted a grandchild." At this, something flickered across Joshua's eyes. Even though Alicia, his wife, was right beside him, he went ahead and lied through his teeth. "Thanks for the concern, Caden, but I already have good news for Dad. I just haven't gotten around to telling him yet." Caden's smirk deepened, his gaze flicking toward Alicia, who was about done with the bullshit of a charade. She quietly excused herself and strode off. "How far along is she?" he asked meaningfully. "Doesn't seem like she's pregnant." Joshua didn't miss a beat. "Just a month." The answer was as much a threat as it was an announcement. Now, the inheritance stakes had just been raised, and Jerald, ever focused on continuing the family line, would certainly take his unborn grandchild into consideration. Caden's smile hardened, and Joshua delivered the final blow with a smug undertone. "You'd better catch up, Caden. I can't always be one step ahead." Caden, unfazed, waved his hand lazily. "No rush." ... Alicia stepped onto the terrace, the cool night breeze washing over her skin. She drank in the fresh air hungrily to steady her nerves. Pulling out her phone, she quickly dialed the manager of the private cinema again. "Have you found the ring?" she asked anxiously. The manager hesitated, sounding troubled. "Ms. Bennett, we've searched thoroughly and questioned all the staff, but... we really couldn't find any ring." "Then..." Alicia clenched her fist, her mind racing. "Do you have the contact details of the guest who booked the room that day?" "I'm sorry, but due to our privacy policy, we can't disclose any information on our clients." Her heart sank. "I see," she sighed with resignation. "Please tell me immediately if anything turns up, okay?" In a perfect world, she could've just bought an identical ring and pass it off for the original. Unfortunately, Joshua had that ring custom-made, and it wasn't easy to replicate. After dinner, it started to rain. The relatives began to trickle out one by one. Joshua stood by her side as they made their way to the car, his eyes trailing down to her bare wrist. "If you liked that bracelet at the auction, then I can buy you something like it," he said coolly. Alicia had to resist the urge to roll her eyes sardonically. She didn't believe for a second that Joshua had a change of heart towards her. "Trying to buy my silence, huh?" Her words were sharp, slicing right through Joshua's tender facade. "No need. I have no desire to be tangled up in your affairs." Joshua hadn't intended to sound like that, but her mocking tone struck a nerve. His jaw clenched, and a bitter smile crossed his lips. "Fine. Don't take it. The money I spend on you is a waste anyway." Alicia bit the inside of her cheek before adding firmly, "Joshua, I already told you. I'm willing to leave this marriage empty-handed. Let's sign the divorce papers tomorrow morning and end this once and for all." His smile twisted into something dark, something dangerous. "What about the ring?" "I lost it." Joshua's eyes narrowed, his tone unrelenting. "I don't care about anything else. I want the ring." She could barely contain her frustration, her breath hitching as he delivered his final blow. "If you can't find it," he said coldly, "I'll assume you're holding onto it because you still care about me." Just then, Joshua's phone rang; it was Lilliana calling. "Joshua." She mewled his name pitifully. "The thunder is so loud. I'm scared to sleep alone... Can you come over?" The car wasn't heading anywhere near Lilliana's and Joshua was furious with Alicia, so without a second thought, he kicked her out into the rain and sped off. He didn't even leave her an umbrella. Alicia stood frozen by the roadside, the downpour quickly soaking through her clothes. The cold rain seeped into her bones, chilling her to the core. Gritting her chattering teeth, she swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth and began trudging along the drenched pavement. Behind her, the soft hum of an engine crept closer. A sleek, low-profile Maybach rolled up beside her, its headlights cutting through the rain. "Mr. Ward," the driver said, glancing back, "I believe that's Ms. Bennett." The car slowed to a stop. Caden glanced out the window, his sharp eyes narrowing on Alicia's lonesome figure. She had just paused, her fingers gathering the fabric of her soaked dress, tying it up to ease her stride. Caden's lips curled into a faint. "Invite her inside," he drawled. The car came to a halt next to Alicia. The driver stepped out, holding a large umbrella over her head, his voice polite. "Ms. Bennett, it's hard to find a cab at this hour. May I offer you a ride home?" Alicia's eyes flicked up, recognizing the man as the Yates family's driver. She hesitated for a moment before nodding, her voice soft but steady. "Thank you. Sorry for the inconvenience." However, as soon as she slipped into the backseat of the car, she locked eyes with its other passenger--Caden. "We meet again so soon, sister-in-law?" His voice, smooth as velvet, carried a hint of mischief. ...... 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) &9&	LEARN_MORE	https://fbweb.moboreader.net/63310322-fb_contact-e	Love Story Now	https://www.facebook.com/100083950326074/	25,620	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	fbweb.moboreader.net	IMAGE		https://fbweb.moboreader.net/63310322-fb_contact-ena265_2-1025-core2.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=295122&accid=968271541620686&rawadid=120215495145550541	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/468636043_1136591438038434_5653868833188065430_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=106&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=usncymHdAQEQ7kNvgFNrLCr&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AP5q0ozZf30gICEzfEtgHUJ&oh=00_AYABLyeiTDaMEyqAogjd02R5w_Z1uYt-vmg_sJspGRsJ3w&oe=6756D9FF	PERSON_PROFILE	0	0	Love Story Now	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete

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