“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.

She shot upright in bed, urgently pressing for details. But the caller’s answers were vague—advising only that she quickly find a lawyer or prepare money for bail negotiations.

Elena steadied herself, hung up, and counted the cash she had. Only about fifty thousand remained.

In the years of her marriage to Adrian, he had seemed attentive in every way—constantly gifting her jewelry, clothes, and luxuries so she never had to worry about material needs.

But now, thinking back, he had never given her any actual financial control. She had no idea about his salary, their savings, or Shaw Corporation’s operations. Her daily expenses came only from her own hospital salary.

She had even used much of her earnings to buy reciprocal gifts for Adrian. Though her gifts were modest compared to his, they at least carried sincerity. Yet those tokens always ended up shoved aside, forgotten.

Now, desperate, Elena gathered all of Adrian’s past gifts and took them to a luxury resale boutique, hoping to sell them. But after a glance, the manager’s expression turned awkward.

“Sorry, ma’am. These are all just accessory pieces—we can’t take them.”

Elena’s fingers trembled. She had suspected as much.

Lowering her gaze, she asked evenly, “Could you at least tell me where the genuine pieces are?”

The manager, seasoned from years of clientele, gave a practiced smile.

“I’m afraid that’s private client information. We can’t disclose it.”

The harsh light glared across the glass counter, stabbing at her eyes. Elena swayed slightly, dizzy. Still, she managed to ask,

“Then… what collection do these belong to?”

“These are from our Summer Limited ‘Stars & Moon’ series,” the manager explained with enthusiasm. “The highlight is the ‘Moon & Stars’ necklace, featuring a 5.21-carat pink diamond symbolizing ‘I love you.’ The necklace you brought in is ‘Starlight,’ meant to accompany the Moon & Stars piece—together, a romantic blessing.”

He continued describing the other items, his words blurring into meaningless noise as Elena’s ears rang. The voices around her felt muffled, yet deafening, filling her skull.

“Mr. Shaw must adore her… to gift jewelry worth tens of millions so casually…”

So it was true. Adrian valued Vivian Cole far more than she ever imagined—while degrading Elena in ways she hadn’t even realized.

Staggering, she left the counter and went home, only to find Adrian walking quickly toward her.

“Elena, where did you go?” he asked, though his eyes darted nervously to the boxes in her hands.

Feigning calm, he pressed, “Why did you take so many pieces of jewelry out?”

Elena steadied her gaze on him.

“You look… nervous.”

His pupils shrank, then he forced a smile.

“Of course I am. These pieces mark our love. If they got lost, even buying them again wouldn’t be the same.”

He pulled her into his arms, voice soft, almost playful.

“Don’t you care about them too?”

So close, his warm breath dampened her neck—sticky, suffocating, making her stomach turn.

Without a flinch, she eased away.

“I thought about donating them for charity, but the staff told me they’re all fakes.”

“Adrian, how do you explain that?”

His grip tightened, then he scowled.

“Impossible. I bought these myself. They must’ve lied, trying to trick you. Forget the donation—I’ll handle it. You just keep wearing them.”

He brightened suddenly.

“By the way, I noticed your neck was bare. Tomorrow, I’ll buy you a new necklace.”

His obsidian eyes sparkled with devotion, as though she was his entire world.

Once, Elena would have felt blessed. Now she felt only cold irony.

A new necklace? No doubt just another “accessory.”

“…Fine,” she murmured, expression flat as she lowered her gaze.

With no money from reselling jewelry, Elena had to find another way.

Since the Carter family’s downfall, her so-called friends had scattered. Years of Adrian’s manipulation had further cut her off from outside contacts. She had no one to turn to.

She tried asking colleagues at Memorial Hospital for loans, but the amount scared them off. Only one fellow doctor she was close to transferred her twenty thousand.

“I don’t have much either, but take this for now. If it’s not enough, I’ll think of something else.”