Elena Carter thanked her, but staring at the meager sum that could barely solve anything, she was forced to part with the relic her mother had left behind.

It was an antique emerald bracelet, a keepsake her father had once given her mother when they got engaged.

It wasn’t particularly expensive, but after years of careful preservation, its luster still shone. Elena took it to a pawn shop in Los Angeles and managed to exchange it for half a million dollars. The amount wasn’t high, but it was enough to put out the immediate fire.

As fate would have it, the bracelet barely entered the shop before it fell into Nathan Quinn’s hands.

Nathan was the sole heir of the Quinn family, holding a cushy position at the Shaw Corporation with little real responsibility. He often wandered outside when he had nothing to do, and with his grandmother’s birthday approaching, he was hunting for a suitable gift.

The moment Nathan saw the bracelet, he knew it wasn’t a top-grade piece, but years of being handled had imbued it with warmth. He liked it instantly and bought it without hesitation.

Carrying the box with pride, Nathan rushed to Damian Shaw.

“Damian, I finally solved a big problem today.” He presented the bracelet as if it were a treasure. “Take a look—my grandmother has every luxury already, but she has a soft spot for pieces like this.”

Damian glanced indifferently at first. But when his eyes fell on the emerald bracelet resting in the cedar box, his gaze sharpened.

“Where did you get this?” he asked.

Nathan replied casually, “Ran into it at a pawn shop—lucky find. The owner said the seller had just left.”

Damian’s brows knitted. He remembered seeing this bracelet on Mrs. Carter’s wrist at social galas. What could have driven Elena to sell her late mother’s keepsake?

“Damian? Earth to you?” Nathan waved a hand in front of his face.

Snapping back, Damian suddenly reached out and took the bracelet.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“I want it. Ryan Linwood will wire you the money later.”

Nathan flared up. “No way! If you take it, what am I supposed to give Grandma?”

“Thirty million,” Damian said flatly.

“Deal!” Nathan agreed in a heartbeat. He had paid only a million for it—turning that into thirty million was a windfall. With that kind of money, he could buy countless other gifts.

Still grinning, Nathan leaned closer. “So… who’s the lucky girl? You never spend on women. Don’t tell me this is—”

Damian’s expression turned icy. “If you’ve got time for gossip, go help the cats in your backyard give birth.”

Instead of backing off, Nathan grew more curious. Damian hadn’t denied it—so this was for a woman. And he had been completely kept in the dark.

“You’re really holding out on me, I—”

“Another word, and I cut the amount in half.”

“I—”

“Five hundred.”

“I’m leaving now!” Nathan bolted before his payday shrank again, vanishing from the office in seconds.

Once alone, Damian traced the bracelet with his thumb and sent a message to his secretary, Ryan. “Check into her situation recently.”

“Understood.”

With the money in hand, Elena rushed to smooth things over with the family she had offended, offering apologies and compensation until they finally relented.

Once that was settled, she wanted to visit her father.

He had been in prison for years, and she hadn’t seen him in so long.

But after waiting outside for hours, all she received was the message that her father refused to see her. Disappointed, she could only ask the guards to look after him.

When she returned home, her mood was heavy.

She didn’t notice Adrian Shaw come in until his arms wrapped around her from behind.

“Elena, what are you thinking about?” he murmured, placing a velvet box in her hands. “I brought you a gift. Open it, see if you like it.”

Everything he gave her was whatever Vivian Cole had discarded. How could she feel joy?

Elena forced a faint smile. “Leave it here. I’ll look at it later.”

“Alright.” Adrian circled around to face her. “Actually, I need to tell you something. Tomorrow is Vivian’s birthday. You’ll come with me.”

Elena frowned. “I don’t want to go.”

“You’re still holding on to that incident?” Adrian’s tone hardened. “You never used to be so petty. Vivian didn’t even blame you for injuring her, and you’re still upset?”

Elena’s heart chilled.

“I—”

Before she could explain, Adrian cut her off. “Vivian specifically invited you. Don’t keep making a scene. She’ll apologize. Don’t be difficult—just come with me tomorrow.”

Elena lifted her eyes to the man in front of her—her husband. No, a demon wearing a man’s mask.

She laughed bitterly, then looked away. “Fine.”

“You don’t need to prepare a gift,” Adrian continued. “Just being there is enough. Dress elegantly, but don’t outshine Vivian. She loves being the center of attention, and it’s her birthday.”

His voice softened again, but Elena rubbed her arms against the cold crawling through her veins.

She had always known Adrian’s relationship with Vivian wasn’t ordinary, but she never imagined her marriage would collapse in such a humiliating way.

She excused herself with a quiet “I’m tired” and went upstairs.

The next day, at Vivian’s birthday gala.

Adrian presented her with a diamond necklace worth tens of millions. Elena’s expression didn’t change as she watched, though her chest tightened.

The diamonds sparkled so brilliantly that the crowd gasped.

“Mr. Shaw is as generous as ever,” someone sighed. “Every year he never misses Vivian’s birthday.”

“Yes, last year he gave her a custom crown. She looked just like a princess.”

Vivian blushed shyly.

“Don’t tease me. Adrian and I are just friends.”

“Adrian, I told you not to give me such expensive gifts. Elena already misunderstands our relationship—I don’t want to cause trouble in your marriage.”

Adrian glanced back. Elena stood with folded arms, her face blank. His jaw tightened.

“She won’t misunderstand,” he said curtly. “Elena knows better.”

The crowd read between the lines. Here, in Vivian’s presence, Elena was nothing.

Whispers floated:

“She should count herself lucky marrying into the Shaw family. And she still causes drama?”

“Exactly. If Vivian really wanted Mr. Shaw, Elena wouldn’t even be in the picture.”

Elena lifted a glass from a passing tray, ignoring the words like buzzing flies. Standing there quietly, she looked like a painting.

But Adrian’s displeasure grew—especially when he noticed other men’s eyes drifting toward her.

Vivian swayed over, champagne in hand.

“Elena, your birthday’s coming soon too, isn’t it? What will Adrian get you? Tell us so we can all be envious.”

“Why not host a gala of your own? We’d love to celebrate with you.”

The guests chimed in mockingly.

“With gifts worth tens of millions for Vivian, his wife must get something even grander.”

“A gala? Who would attend?”

Their ridicule lingered in the air.

Elena said nothing, but Adrian stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Of course, my wife deserves the best,” he declared. “But surprises should remain surprises. You’ll all see on her birthday.”

“As for a gala, no need. Elena prefers things quiet—we’ll celebrate at home.”

Then, lowering his voice so only she could hear, Adrian warned, “Don’t ruin the mood. Tonight is Vivian’s night. And remember—I told you not to steal her spotlight.”

Elena’s gaze flicked to Vivian in her champagne-colored gown. Elegant makeup, delicate styling—yet it all felt false.

She downed her wine in one gulp and looked Adrian in the eye.

“Stealing her spotlight?” she said coolly.

“Didn’t your thirty-million-dollar necklace already give her all the spotlight?”

Elena Carter’s words left Adrian Shaw faintly displeased.

Before he could speak, however, Vivian Cole called him away.

“Mr. Shaw’s love life is truly enviable.”

“Yes, Elena is so lucky, marrying a man like Mr. Shaw.”

Vivian chimed in with a sweet smile, “Knowing Elena married so well, I’m genuinely happy for her.”

She walked over and linked arms with Elena, her grip leaving no room for refusal.

As the two drew close, Vivian’s lips curved, her voice a whisper meant for Elena alone:

“I don’t know what Adrian prepared for you tonight, but do you think it might just be another accessory to match my necklace?”

“Elena, you’re really like a pitiful dog. Truly pathetic.”

When she raised her eyes again, her gaze was soft, her expression intimate as she clung to Elena.

Elena wanted to pull back, but when she lifted her eyes, Adrian’s warning look stopped her. She swallowed her protest—this was not the time for conflict.

“Come on, let’s cut the cake together,” Vivian said with a practiced smile.

As they neared the Champagne Tower, Elena realized too late what was about to happen.

The glittering structure crashed down in an instant. She tried to move away, but the hem of her gown was deliberately pinned beneath a foot. The champagne flutes shattered across her, fragments slicing her skin, blood blooming scarlet against pale flesh.

Adrian’s eyes sharpened, and he instinctively stepped forward.

“Elena—”

But before he reached her, Vivian’s weak, tearful cry rang out:

“Adrian, my wrist—it hurts!”

He froze.

His stride shifted without hesitation, redirecting toward Vivian, who sat theatrically on the floor, clutching her wrist.

Adrian knelt, his face etched with concern. Without a second thought, he scooped her into his arms in a bridal carry and strode toward the exit.

As he passed Elena, his expression darkened with impatience.

“Vivian has always been delicate. I’ll take her to the hospital first. Yours are only superficial wounds—go later, on your own.”

And without waiting for her reply, he was gone.

Elena watched Vivian nestled smugly in Adrian’s arms, the faint red mark on her wrist displayed for Elena alone, a mocking smile tugging at her lips.

Dragging her battered body, Elena staggered toward the exit.

The guests had all come for Vivian’s birthday gala. Seeing Elena humiliated was entertainment enough; none thought to help her. She leaned against the wall, inch by inch, each step pulling fire through her wounds.

She remembered clearly—the moment the tower fell, Vivian had crushed her gown beneath her heel. And when Elena turned, Vivian had smiled triumphantly.

Elena knew what that smile meant.

Vivian had won.

A sharp pain twisted her stomach, metallic bitterness rushing up her throat. Before she could brace herself, she was vomiting blood into her hand, crimson staining her pale fingers.

“Miss, are you alright?” A waiter’s voice, hesitant and concerned.

Elena forced a strained smile. “I’m sorry… I dirtied the floor. Where’s the restroom?”

After he pointed the way, she dragged her trembling body toward the bathroom, rinsing the blood from her hands before resolving to head to Memorial Hospital.

But as she stepped into the lobby, her gaze caught a familiar figure.

When Damian Shaw saw her, the cold detachment in his eyes vanished, replaced with something she couldn’t decipher. His stride quickened toward her.

“What happened to you?”

Damian’s voice was low, dangerous, his sharp eyes cutting toward the waiter.

The young man flinched. “I—I’m not sure. They said the champagne tower in the private room collapsed… it may have struck her.”

“Who was inside?” Damian’s tone dropped to a growl.

“Miss Cole,” the waiter answered, trembling.

Damian’s eyes darkened, and it seemed he had already guessed the truth.

“Uncle,” Elena interrupted quickly, unwilling for him to press further.

“Let’s just go to the hospital.”

Without waiting for her protest, Damian noted the pain in her faltering steps and swept her effortlessly into his arms.

“Uncle, put me down! If someone sees—”

Her panic was real; if anyone witnessed this, scandal would be impossible to explain away. She buried her head in his chest as passing eyes turned toward them. She dared not move.

Damian’s gaze grew darker, his throat tightening as he swallowed hard. The unfamiliar surge of emotion rose—but he forced it down.

Not yet.