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?

They arrived at the Harding estate at five sharp. Adrian had cleared his evening schedule, pushing aside a social engagement specifically for this visit.

The moment they stepped into the foyer, Bonnie Harding was lounging on the sofa, watching TV, looking radiant.

Sara slipped into her house slippers and approached with a smile. "Mom, why are you all dressed up today? You look stunning."

"I just threw this on." The delight on Bonnie's face betrayed her. "Look at that mouth of yours—sweet as honey, as always."

She didn't even need to look up to know who had arrived. Her affection for her daughter-in-law was genuine.

Sara sat beside her, leaning in close. "I came here to mooch a free meal, so naturally, I have to sing for my supper. Otherwise, how could I have the nerve to eat and drink here?"

From the single armchair nearby, a scoff shattered the warmth. Bella Harding sat scrolling through her iPad, her expression sour.

"Greet her." Adrian's voice was low. Final. He didn't indulge his sister's petty games.

Bella was terrified of him. Reluctantly, she muttered, "Sister-in-law," without lifting her eyes from the screen.

In reality, Sara and Bella were the same age. The title felt forced coming from Bella's mouth, and Sara found it equally awkward to hear.

"I heard your design won an award recently." Sara placed a velvet jewelry box on the coffee table. "A belated congratulations. I hope you don't mind."

Bella glanced at it. "They say it's easy to go from frugality to luxury, but hard to return to poverty. You really went all out, Sister-in-law. This brand isn't cheap."

"Only the best for you," Sara replied smoothly.

The sarcasm rolled off her back. Besides, the money came from the same source—Adrian paid the bill, and she'd picked up something for herself while she was at it.

Perhaps Bonnie had warned her beforehand, because Bella knew when to quit.

Shortly after, Elijah Harding emerged from his study, and dinner officially began.

At the table, the topic of an heir finally surfaced—late, but inevitable.

The Hardings laid down the law for Adrian, who was approaching thirty: within a year, quit smoking and drinking, start preparing for a baby.

Boy or girl, it didn't matter. As long as the child was healthy. They even offered to raise it at the estate so the couple wouldn't be burdened.

Sara focused on the spare ribs on her plate, silent throughout the lecture.

*In a year?*

The contract would have long expired by then. Who knew which woman would be fulfilling this duty for him?

She certainly didn't expect that later, back in their room, Adrian—stoic all evening—would lean against the doorframe and bring it up himself.

"Do you want one?" Those dark eyes fixed on her. "If you like kids, we can have one."

Was he joking? Testing her?

His expression gave nothing away.

"Having one is fine." Sara walked over to him, gripping his tie, her breath hitching softly. "But Mr. Harding will have to add a surcharge to our original agreement."

"Name your price."

Blunt. Businesslike.

Sara curled her lips. "Unfortunately, I'm not taking orders right now."

A child wasn't a commodity. She wanted any baby of hers to be born into a loving family. Her parents had died young, leaving her to grow up in an orphanage. No one understood the hollow ache of being unwanted better than she did.

Adrian leaned in, his hot breath fanning across her cheek. "You won't take money when it's offered? Developing new clients behind my back?"

"Husband, are you jealous?"

She only used that title on specific occasions.

It was always dripping with insincerity.

Perhaps it was the atmosphere, or the way her red lips parted slightly, inviting a taste. Adrian didn't think. He acted.

A man and a woman alone—it took only a spark to ignite dry tinder. Passion swept through the room instantly.

In bed, their chemistry was undeniable. A single glance from Adrian, and Sara knew exactly what he wanted.

But right at the critical moment, his phone buzzed.

"Adrian, can you help me…"

Eva James.

For convenience, he'd answered on speaker, not expecting the unfamiliar number to belong to his ex-girlfriend.

The lust in the room evaporated.

Adrian glanced at Sara, grabbed his phone, and walked out to the balcony.

She couldn't hear the conversation, but through the glass, his brow furrowed deeper with every passing second.

It looked urgent.

*The hero saving the damsel in distress*—a classic cliché. But if he left tonight, it would prove his earlier coldness toward Eva was nothing more than an act.

When he returned, he was already buttoning his shirt.

"Are you going out?" Sara asked, though she already knew the answer.

Adrian loosened his tie slightly. "Hoping I'll leave?"

Before she could respond, he grabbed her ankle under the duvet and pulled her toward him.

Staring into his eyes—black whirlpools threatening to drown her—Sara felt momentarily dazed.

Feelings aside, he was a qualified husband. Handsome, wealthy, attentive in bed. Occasionally, when his mood was right, he'd take her shopping or dining. There were moments she almost deluded herself into thinking he loved her.

But the spell shattered as quickly as it had formed.

After a brief, rough round of intimacy, they fell asleep tangled together.

In the middle of the night, thirst woke her. She reached out—

The space beside her was cold.

Sara checked the time. 4:00 AM.

Adrian was gone.

Only a set of discarded pajamas lay crumpled on the floor.

Cast aside.

Just like her.