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.

When she went downstairs for breakfast, a WeChat message from Adrian was waiting.

He didn't hide his absence, but he wasn't exactly honest either. A few curt words explained that an unexpected issue had arisen with a company project, requiring his personal attention at the site.

*What kind of project demands the CEO's presence at a construction site at 4:00 AM?*

Sara stared at the absurd excuse.

Did he think she was a toddler?

Was it true that a man could never forget his first love?

True or false, it didn't matter. At least now, if Bonnie asked, Sara had a cover story to protect the family peace.

Years ago, when Eva had made a scene about their breakup, the fallout between the Hardings and the Jameses had been nuclear. Aside from necessary public functions, the two clans avoided each other entirely. Elijah had even explicitly forbidden Adrian from ever tangling with Eva again.

If word got out that they were meeting in secret, it would be chaos.

Near noon, Bonnie invited a few friends over for mahjong. One player short, Sara filled the seat.

In the past, she hadn't known a bamboo tile from a circle, but to please Bonnie and integrate into this world, she'd forced herself to learn. Flower arranging. Tea ceremonies. Every required course for a socialite crammed into her brain.

She wasn't a master, but she knew enough to avoid being the butt of a joke.

Unfortunately, after the marriage, Adrian rarely took her out in public. With her background—an orphan who didn't even know her biological parents—she wasn't fit for the high society stage.

So they hid her away. A calculated move. When the contract ended and they went their separate ways, her lack of public presence would minimize the blowback on Adrian's reputation.

As lunch approached, Bella came downstairs.

Seeing Sara making Bonnie laugh, she stood on the sidelines, throwing passive-aggressive jabs.

Sensing the impending drama, Sara seized the opportunity to slip away, claiming she needed to head home. Before leaving, she pushed all her winnings toward her mother-in-law.

"A little treat for you, Mom." The other ladies cast envious looks.

Bonnie offered a driver, but Sara declined, hailing a taxi instead.

Her destination wasn't the marital villa Adrian had bought.

It was a residential complex on the opposite side of the city—a world away in every sense.

The location was remote, the buildings aged. Its only advantage was the quiet.

Sara didn't knock. She pressed her thumb to the fingerprint scanner and unlocked the door.

Outside, the sun was blazing. Inside, the apartment was pitched in darkness.

Blackout curtains were drawn tight, sealing the room in suffocating gloom. The stale air hit her face, heavy with despair.

The contrast between the opulent Harding estate and this tomb-like space made Sara freeze in the doorway. An invisible hand squeezed her heart. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust.

Taking a steadying breath, she stepped inside, her high heels clicking on the floor. She marched to the window, ripped open the curtains, and threw the sash wide.

Sunlight and fresh air flooded the room.

She made no effort to be quiet, deliberately making noise to rouse the occupant of the bedroom.

Moments later, the master bedroom door creaked open. A tall, gaunt figure emerged.

Hearing his footsteps, Sara didn't turn around. She placed the takeout on the table and slowly changed into her slippers.

Before she could finish, a mocking voice grated against her ear.

"I've always been curious about one thing. Does Adrian know you're using his money to keep another man on the side?"