In the next instant, a tremendous force shoved her aside.

Elena Carter slammed into the wall, her head spinning from the impact.

But Adrian Shaw didn’t even glance at her—his face was full of tension as he checked Vivian Cole’s condition. “Are you okay? Don’t worry, I’ll get a doctor right away.”

Vivian’s forehead wound looked fierce, but in reality it was just a shallow cut. Once the blood was wiped away, it was hardly serious at all.

“Adrian…”

Vivian clung to his chest, panic written across her face. “I didn’t mean anything else. I only wanted to explain to Elena about the misunderstanding back then, but I never thought she would suddenly lash out.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks, leaving her looking pitiful and wronged.

Adrian turned back and glared at Elena. “You’re a doctor. Instead of doing your job, you came here to bully a patient? Elena Carter, when did you become so vicious?”

He didn’t hesitate, didn’t question—he simply assumed Elena was in the wrong.

In that moment, self-mockery welled up in her chest. How blind had she been, not to see that Adrian never had her in his heart?

“Apologize to Vivian,” Adrian ordered.

Apologize?

To her?

Elena forced back the tears that burned in her eyes, staring directly at Vivian. “A misunderstanding? Which one? Was it the time you deliberately climbed into Lucas Bennett’s bed? Or was it when you stole my mother’s—”

The word heart had barely left her lips when Adrian’s hand cracked across her face.

The blow was merciless, making Elena’s head buzz as if struck by lightning.

She clutched her cheek and slowly turned her gaze on Adrian, her expression falling into utter silence.

“Elena…”

Adrian’s expression shifted. He glanced at his hand, suddenly unsure, and stepped toward her. “Did I… did I hurt you? I’m sorry, I lost my temper.”

He reached out to touch her face, but she slapped his hand away.

Vivian, feigning panic, spoke up quickly: “Adrian, how could you hit Elena? I’ve already troubled you enough—if I end up ruining your marriage too, I might as well be dead.”

Tears spilled from her eyes.

“Don’t say things like that.” Adrian pulled her close, soothing her, then looked at Elena with stern authority. “Apologize. I’m doing this for your own good. Otherwise people will say you abuse your position, and then how will you continue as a doctor?”

Elena let out a cold laugh. “For my good? Twisting truth into lies is for my good? Striking me across the face while I’m sick is for my good? Protecting another woman right in front of me is for my good? That kind of good, I can’t afford.”

She threw the words down and walked straight out.

Behind her, Vivian’s gaze darkened.

What did Elena mean by those words? Could it be—she knew about the heart back then?

Vivian bit her lip, her fists tightening in the shadows.

Outside Memorial Hospital, Elena tried to hail a cab, but suddenly a shadow fell across her. A sharp pain struck her neck, and everything went black.

When she woke again, the world was pitch dark and the space unbearably cramped. Curled up, with pain pounding at the back of her skull, she realized she was in real danger.

Her instincts screamed. Groping in her pocket, she managed to dial her emergency contact. The ringing in her ear was deafening in the silence. Her heart pounded, terrified her captors would notice.

Finally, the line connected. Adrian’s voice came through: “Hello?”

Despite all the hatred she felt toward him, hearing his voice brought a fleeting sense of safety. Her own came out broken, tinged with sobs: “Adrian, I’ve been kidnapped. Please, help me.”

“What?” His voice tightened instantly. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know… I think I’m in the trunk of a car, I—”

“Elena, this isn’t funny,” Adrian cut her off.

Before she could respond, Vivian’s voice chimed in from his side: “If you really were kidnapped, how would you even have the chance to make a call? You’re just upset about earlier—there’s no need to scare us like this.”

“No, that’s not—” Elena’s voice trembled with desperation.

But Adrian silenced her sharply. “Enough. If you’ve got the strength to call me, then you’ve got the strength to get yourself out.”

The line went dead.

At that very moment, the trunk popped open. A man yanked her out roughly and reached for her bag. “Where’s the organ donation contract?”

Her heart sank. So her suspicions were true. Rolling onto her stomach, she pressed her bag beneath her.

This was her last piece of evidence—she couldn’t lose it.

“Bitch!” The man snarled and kicked her savagely in the back.

Pain exploded, blood filled her mouth. She curled up in agony, but the bag was still torn easily from her grasp.

“G-give it back…”

She reached for it instinctively. In the struggle, her blouse tore open at the chest, revealing pale skin. The man’s gaze shifted, turning lecherous.

“You want it? Then make me happy, and maybe I’ll give it back.” He tossed her bag aside and lunged, clawing at her clothes.

Cold air rushed in, terror clawing at Elena’s chest.

She fought wildly, but he pinned her down with ease, fumbling to strip her.

“No! Stop! Somebody help—”

But no one was near enough to hear.

Despair crashed over her. Then, out of nowhere, a scream split the air.

“Aaagh!”

Suddenly, the weight holding her down vanished.

Shaking, Elena scrambled backward. Tears blurred her vision, but through the haze she saw a tall, familiar silhouette standing between her and the attacker.

The newcomer grabbed the man and slammed a fist into his face.

The man shrieked under the onslaught, trying to fight back, but was kicked violently across the floor.

“Cover yourself.”

The terse command was followed by the weight of a still-warm suit jacket thrown over her.

The faint scent of cedar wrapped around her, strangely steadying her panicked heart. Clutching the jacket around her body, Elena finally saw who it was.

Damian Shaw—Adrian’s uncle, and the true head of the Shaw Corporation.

The attacker staggered toward a fire extinguisher in the corner, swinging it wildly. Damian sidestepped, twisted the man’s wrist until it snapped with a sickening crack.

“Ahhh!”

The man collapsed, writhing like a shrimp thrown into boiling water. Damian showed no hesitation, seizing his hair and smashing his head against the floor.

Blood sprayed. The man went limp, silent at last.

Assistants and bodyguards appeared as if from nowhere, dragging the unconscious body away.

Damian turned to Elena. Her gaze landed first on the fine line of his trousers, then traced upward along his tall frame to his cold, distinguished face.

Detached. Remote. Perfectly courteous.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Elena nodded faintly, trying to stand. But her legs gave way after two steps, and she would have fallen had Damian not caught her.

His strong arm encircled her effortlessly, the cedarwood scent lingering close. Oddly, it steadied her.

“You’re in no condition to go back,” he said with a frown. “I’ll call Adrian.”

“No.” Elena shook her head.

She met Damian’s puzzled gaze, then forced a bitter smile. “He doesn’t care. And besides… he’s probably busy—with Vivian.”

Damian didn’t press further. He simply pulled out his phone and sent a message.

Soon, a sleek car rolled to a stop before them. “Get in.”

Elena almost asked where he was taking her, but one look at Damian’s expression made her swallow the question. She bent down and slipped inside.

The car pulled away. But it wasn’t heading toward her home.

She hesitated. “Where… are we going?”

Damian’s profile was cool and unreadable. “Do you really want to return like that?”

She glanced down at herself—torn clothes, bruises, one shoe missing. No, she couldn’t go home like this.

Silent, she followed him.

At last they arrived. Inside, he led her directly to a room. “It was sudden, so the other rooms aren’t ready. You can use this one. Clothes are prepared.”

“Thank you,” Elena said, still stiff and uneasy.

It was clearly his bedroom—black and white, minimalist, austere. Like him: cold, severe.

She dared not linger, lowering her gaze as she stepped into the bathroom.

Just before shutting the door, she glanced up—and locked eyes with Damian’s dark pupils. There was no visible emotion, yet her heart skipped violently.

A man and a woman, alone, a bathroom—too easy for the mind to wander.

She quickly closed the door, shutting out his gaze.

Only when his footsteps faded did she finally breathe and begin to wash.

Later, refreshed, she stepped out, planning to say goodbye.

But after searching the first floor and finding no trace of him, she froze when a voice floated down from upstairs:

“Looking for something?”

Elena Carter turned around and found Damian Shaw already changed into loungewear, his sharp aura diminished quite a bit.

“Uncle Damian.” She looked a little nervous. “I just came to say goodbye. It’s getting late—I should head home.”

For a moment, the man said nothing. Then he finally gave a slow nod.

“Mm. The driver is already waiting outside.”

He turned to head back toward the study, but Elena quickly stopped him.

“Wait!” She looked at his halted steps, her fingers twisting together as she hesitated for a long time before speaking.

“About what happened today... may I trouble you to keep it a secret?”

Whether it was her nearly being assaulted or the organ donation agreement almost stolen, once Adrian Shaw heard any of it, his suspicion would certainly be aroused.

Damian tilted his head slightly toward her. Under the light, his striking features looked almost unreal, too handsome for this world—yet also made it impossible to read his emotions.

With her heart pounding, Elena finally heard his calm reply:

“I’ve never had the hobby of prying into other people’s privacy.”

That was his way of agreeing.

Elena let out a long breath of relief, quickly thanked him, and, not daring to disturb him further, gathered her things and left in the waiting car.

Damian stood in the hallway for a while, listening as the sound of the car faded away, before turning back inside.

It was indeed late. He rubbed his sore forehead and returned to the master bedroom to wash up.

The bathroom, freshly used, still held steam and a faint fragrance that teased at his senses. Damian frowned, his eyes sweeping the room—then suddenly froze.

In the corner lay something left behind by the previous user: white, trimmed with lace, still carrying a lingering scent. The image it conjured came all too easily.

Damian stared quietly at it, his expression darkening.

…

Meanwhile, Elena dozed in the back seat of the car. Halfway through her rest, a sudden realization jolted her awake, her eyes flying wide.

She—she had left her lingerie at Damian’s place.

If he saw it…

Her face flushed hot with shame, and she wished she could fly back instantly to destroy the evidence. But that was impossible now. All she could do was pray Damian wouldn’t react.

Still flustered, Elena returned home—only to find Adrian Shaw and Vivian Cole sitting together on the living room sofa.

The moment he saw her, Adrian rushed over.

“Where were you this afternoon?” His brows knit tight, a hidden worry flickering in his eyes that no one else noticed.

But Elena had already lost all faith in him and didn’t even want to answer.

Instead, Vivian stepped forward, her voice gentle.

“Adrian, don’t worry so much. Elena’s back safe and sound. Clearly nothing bad happened.”

Adrian instinctively scanned Elena up and down, finding nothing out of place. His anxiety dissipated into irritation.

“Vivian and I are just ordinary friends. There’s nothing sordid between us. Even if you’re jealous, there’s no need to put on such dramatic displays!”

He had actually rushed straight from Memorial Hospital out of concern for her—yet here she was, acting unreasonable.

Vivian chimed in sweetly, “That’s right, Elena. If you really don’t want us spending time together, you could’ve just said so. I can keep my distance from Adrian if that makes you more comfortable.”

Their duet of false concern only made Elena sneer inwardly.

She gave Vivian a mocking look.

“No need. If I were you, I’d enjoy these days of being flattered by both sides while I still can. Because later... you may not get the chance.”

Vivian’s face shifted at Elena’s veiled words. Clearly, Elena must have uncovered something about that year’s events.

Vivian bit her lip hard. Those two useless people had sworn they’d handle it when they took the money—yet vanished without a trace.

Adrian instinctively defended her.

“Elena Carter! Must you always go this far?”

Vivian seized the moment to look pitiful.

“Elena, do you really hate me that much? Is it because I spend too much time with Adrian?” She cast a reluctant glance at him. “If that’s the case, then I’ll cut ties with him.”

She pressed her hands to her face and ran out, feigning heartbreak.

“Vivian!” Adrian immediately chased after her.

Elena watched their little performance with cold disdain, then simply turned and went back to her room.

After a day like this, exhaustion overwhelmed her. She soon fell into a deep sleep—until the next morning, when the shrill ring of the phone roused her. She forced her eyes open.

“Hello?”

“Miss Carter,” came the urgent voice on the other end. “Your father was involved in a prison brawl yesterday. The incident is serious—it may lead to additional sentencing.”

“What?!”

In an instant, Elena’s foggy mind snapped awake.