On the tenth day of her cold war with Adrian Harding, Sara Navarro finally hit her limit.

Swallowing her pride, she decided to break the ice and went to find him.

But at the entrance of the club's private VIP room, she froze.

Adrian was there. But he wasn't alone. He was currently getting hot and heavy with his ex.

To be precise, Eva James was clinging to him like a vine, refusing to let go. And Adrian? He wasn't pushing her away.

Sara couldn't hear what was being said, but Eva clearly wasn't in high spirits. She buried her face in his chest, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

Sara had known about Eva's existence long before her own wedding.

Eva and Adrian had been together for seven years. It was no exaggeration to say that Adrian had dedicated the prime of his life to her. In their circle of fame and fortune, a man with Adrian's capital usually had a wandering eye. Yet he had kept himself clean, guarding only her. That kind of devotion was a rarity.

Everyone assumed they would walk down the aisle. Unexpectedly, the relationship ended in a bleak, unresolved mess.

Eva was the one who proposed the breakup. She had left decisively, severing all contact and fleeing abroad.

Fueled by rage and humiliation, Adrian had treated marriage like a joke. He hastily married Sara—who was merely his personal assistant at the time—just to spite Eva.

A metaphorical slap in the face to his ex-love.

But seven years of romance had exhausted Adrian's capacity for passion. After marrying Sara, he was more like a walking iceberg than a husband.

He never remembered her birthday. To him, she wasn't a wife; she was a pet cat he kept around the house. When he was in a good mood, he'd tease her. When he was in a bad mood, he'd ignore her completely.

And never, not once, had he shown Sara the kind of patience he was currently displaying with Eva.

Sara just hadn't expected someone as proud and aloof as Eva James to come crawling back.

*A good horse doesn't turn back to graze on old grass*, the saying went. Sara had thought her life would never intersect with Eva's again. Yet, in the blink of an eye, the woman was right there.

In her husband's arms.

No wonder Adrian hadn't come home for days. Sara had naively thought he was sulking over their argument that night. She had even asked his secretary for his location, rushing over eagerly to make amends.

Instead, reality dealt her a heavy blow. She stood rooted to the spot, her fingers whitening around the handle of her bag.

Perhaps her gaze was too intense. Eva seemed to sense something. She suddenly turned her head, her eyes locking with Sara's.

Life abroad had treated her well; Eva was even more beautiful than she had been three years ago. Tear tracks stained her face, but she didn't look disheveled. Instead, she looked pitiful, fragile—the kind of vulnerability that instantly triggered a man's protective instincts.

No wonder Adrian couldn't resist.

"Ms. James. Long time no see."

Since there was no place to hide, Sara straightened her spine and walked up to them openly.

Eva stared at her for three seconds. Her gaze dropped to the wedding ring on Sara's hand—a matching set with Adrian's—before she finally spoke.

Her tone dripped with thinly veiled mockery.

"It really has been a long time. In the blink of an eye, Assistant Navarro has become Mrs. Harding. Quite the climb."

Eva was born into nobility. She had always looked down on women who traded their bodies for status and wealth.

But over the years, Sara had trained herself to be bulletproof. She merely smiled, refusing to take the bait.

"How did you get here?"

Adrian followed Eva's line of sight, his dark eyes landing on Sara.

Any other wife seeing her husband entangled with his ex might have stormed over, screaming and demanding an explanation. But Sara didn't have that courage. More importantly, she didn't have the right.

Before the wedding, they had signed an agreement: the marriage would last three years. When the time was up, the assets would be settled, the divorce finalized, and they would go their separate ways.

So Sara swallowed the acid rising in her throat and plastered on the smile of a virtuous wife.

"I heard you had a social engagement tonight. I was worried you'd drink too much and upset your stomach, so I came to check on you."

Adrian usually detested people prying into his schedule. Under his unblinking stare, a chill ran down Sara's spine.

But today, Adrian was acting out of character.

Not only did he not scold her, but a faint, unreadable smile played on his lips.

"So thoughtful?"

"Of course. You're my husband. If I don't care about you, who will?"

Sara tentatively stepped forward and looped her arm through his. He didn't hug her back, but he didn't shake her off either. A silent breath of relief escaped her.

However, the sight of their interlaced arms seemed to sting Eva's eyes.

She looked deeply hurt, forcing a strained smile. "Since Assistant... since Mrs. Harding is here, I'll let you two talk. I won't disturb you."

She didn't leave immediately. She lingered for a split second, as if faintly hoping Adrian would stop her.

Unfortunately for her, Adrian acted as if she had ceased to exist. He didn't even spare her a glance.

As if he had truly let go of the past.

Eva could only maintain her forced smile. "No matter what, I'm happy I got to see you today. I don't mean anything by it. I just hope... we can still be friends."

A masterclass in playing hard to get. And sure enough, it hooked Adrian's attention.

Sara could keep the man, but she couldn't keep his heart.

After Eva left the club, Adrian stared in the direction she had vanished, lost in thought for a long time.

Sara couldn't pretend she didn't see it. "The contract still has six months before it expires, but Ms. James is back. Does Mr. Harding plan to end this marriage early?"

Sara's question snapped Adrian back to reality.

He looked down at her, his expression unreadable. "Did I ever say that?"

Sara curled her lips into a faint smile. "Then Mr. Harding shouldn't be so affected. A man should know when to move on."

"Don't presume to guess my thoughts."

He pulled his arm free from her grasp and pushed her away without hesitation.

The smile on Sara's face didn't falter; if anything, it widened. "Is Mr. Harding still angry?"

He glanced at her coldly, then turned and walked out of the club toward the car. Before the door could close, Sara squeezed in after him.

No matter where he went, she planned to stick to him like glue tonight.

"That day was my fault," she began, her voice soft. "Not long after you left, my period came. I didn't pretend to be sick to lie to you—I really wasn't feeling well." She tugged gently on his sleeve. "Mr. Harding, you're a magnanimous man. Don't hold a grudge against me."

Thinking back to her stupidity, Sara was full of regret.

That afternoon, she had been mocked by his sister, Bella, at the Harding family estate. Resentment had been simmering in her chest. Later that night, right at the critical moment in bed, she realized they were out of condoms.

At that moment, Bella's insult—*cheap trash*—echoed in her mind. Suddenly, Sara didn't want to take the pill and abuse her body for his pleasure anymore.

So she used illness as an excuse and rejected him.

It wasn't until Adrian slammed the door and stormed out that Sara realized the gravity of her mistake. Stopping a man when he was past the point of no return? No one would take that well.

Hearing her explanation, the man's lips pulled into a distant, mocking arc. "Such a coincidence?"

His features were chiseled, his brows and eyes striking, commanding authority. But when he didn't smile, he radiated an arrogance that kept people miles away.

Just like now.

In his cool, detached gaze, Sara saw her own pathetic reflection, desperately trying to please him.

"...Did you drink? When we get back, I'll make you some hangover soup. That way, you won't have a headache tomorrow."

Adrian usually fell for this. No matter how big Sara's mistake, as long as she played the role of the caring wife, he would calm down.

This time it didn't work. He simply looked at her, then turned his gaze out the window.

Whether he saw through her clumsy acting or was distracted by thoughts of Eva, only he knew.

But he didn't kick her out of the car, so Sara took it as a small victory.

The car sped through the night, heading toward their villa.

When they arrived, the alcohol seemed to hit Adrian all at once. His steps were unsteady. Sara rushed to support him.

He wasn't polite about it, dumping his entire weight onto her small frame.

Dragging him upstairs left Sara drenched in sweat. She casually shed her coat, moving through the walk-in closet in just her slip dress.

It wasn't overly revealing, but Sara possessed an innate sensuality. The silk clung to her curves in all the right places.

Adrian sat at the foot of the bed, openly sizing her up.

"Did you shower?" he asked abruptly.

Sara turned, startled. Adrian's dark gaze was fixed on her, heavy and intense.

She didn't think he would be interested in her right now. Eva's tears had clearly pierced his heart, leaving him distracted the entire ride home.

*Old flames die hard*, she thought. If their breakup hadn't been so ugly back then, Sara would likely be the one sleeping alone in an empty room tonight.

Dropping her guard, she walked over and handed him his pajamas with a smile. "Mr. Harding has been gone for ten days."

"Keeping track?"

The corners of Adrian's mouth hooked into an ambiguous smirk.

Sara seized the chance to show loyalty. "Wasn't I trying to find a chance to come crawling back and apologize?"

"And it took you ten days to find that chance?" Adrian's tone was half-joking, half-serious. "I thought you'd forgotten a man like me."

A man who is slightly drunk is a dangerous actor.

If a stranger heard his tone, they might think Adrian Harding was deeply in love with his wife.

Sara sighed inwardly, but her smile only grew sweeter. "How could that be? When you're not home, I don't even have the appetite to eat."

He gave a hoarse laugh, but the warmth didn't reach his eyes.

"The water is ready. Go take a shower."

Sara couldn't guess what was going through his mind, so she decided not to try. She turned to leave.

Before she could take a step, the man suddenly unbuttoned his shirt, stood up, and swept her off her feet.

Sara gasped, caught off guard. Still shaken, she looked up and crashed straight into his deep, burning pupils.

His breath, laced with alcohol, fanned against her face. His gaze was scorching.

"Let me check—just how much weight you've really lost."

It wasn't a request; it was a notification. Before she could answer, he carried her directly into the bathroom.

As expected, Sara was thoroughly conquered.

She hadn't lost weight at all. *When the cat's away, the mice play*—without Adrian around to stress her out, she had actually gained two pounds. The result was a brutal, exhaustive lesson from her husband.

They moved from the bathroom to the bed. Although it was only two rounds, it left Sara so drained she couldn't even lift a finger.

Adrian rarely held back his strength, but physically, she had no complaints. It was the one area where they were perfectly compatible.

The next morning, Sara dragged her sore body out of bed. The man was already sitting at the dining table, eating breakfast with impeccable posture.

His "One That Got Away" had returned, yet he still devoured his wife with such fire the night before. Sara truly hadn't expected it.

He really was a calculating businessman. He wouldn't let his "investment" go to waste.

"You tore my dress last night. That was a limited edition."

Sara had been his assistant for a year and his wife for three. She had learned from the best. As soon as she sat down, she started imitating him—keeping score.

Adrian sliced his food elegantly, not looking up. "What's going on between you and Bella?"

It sounded casual, but it was undoubtedly an interrogation.

Sara stiffened. "Did she complain to you?"

Adrian remained unhurried. "Did you get physical?"

Sara gave an awkward smile. "We just exchanged a few words."

Only then did he lift his head, fixing her with a half-smile that didn't look friendly. "Do you need me to mediate?"

His gentle tone made a chill run down Sara's spine. "No need. We've already talked it out."

Adrian was silent for a few seconds. "So, because of her, you gave me attitude in bed?"

Sharp as a razor, he had instantly deduced the reason for her rejection that night.

Sara knew she had been in the wrong. Taking her anger out on him had been a step too far. His sudden accounting of her sins caught her off guard. Between making excuses and admitting fault, she decisively chose the latter.

"I was wrong."

"Come here." Adrian slowly set down his silverware.

Sara hesitated, then walked over and sat on his lap.

Adrian reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her face was bare of makeup, yet her skin was flawless, delicate enough to break with a touch.

He looked at her with satisfaction, his tone softening. "If something like this happens again, tell me."

Sara felt like she was sitting on pins and needles. "Are you angry?"

"Mrs. Harding performed well last night. Consider your debt paid." His hand rested on her slim waist, his attitude reminiscent of a parent settling a playground dispute. "Tonight, we're going to the old estate for dinner. I'll have Bella apologize to you."

"Dinner is fine, but forget the apology." Sara refused instantly. "It's over. I'm her sister-in-law; I shouldn't be petty and argue with a young girl. There won't be a next time."

The truth was, Sara had already vented her anger that day. By the time she left, Bella had been smashing vases in a rage.

Adrian liked her sensibility. He chuckled low in his throat. "Tell the secretary what you like. I'll have it all delivered to you today."

A reward.

Aside from the black card she could swipe at will, Adrian constantly showered her with luxury goods and jewelry. If it was new and expensive, it would appear on Sara's vanity.

He never shortchanged her on money. But money was the only thing he could give her.

Sara flashed her signature sweet smile. "Thank you, Mr. Harding."

"And?" He leaned back in his chair, waiting.

Sara understood the assignment. She leaned in and planted a feather-light kiss on his cheek.

He patted her head, satisfied, and finally left for work.

Once the tyrant was gone, Sara slumped, feeling as if she'd been granted amnesty.

He wasn't trying to get justice for her; he was clearly protecting his sister. He had questioned Sara without even asking for the full story—proof that he didn't care enough to know the details.

But the look in his eyes when he watched Eva last night still lingered in Sara's mind.

A complexity she had never seen in him before.

Could he really let go of the woman he had loved for seven years?