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?"

Sara's back stiffened.

She recovered in seconds.

Turning to face a pair of cynical, teasing eyes, her expression remained calm. "You're bored, Simon."

Simon Simmons curled his lip. "Is it not the truth?"

She ignored the jab. "The weather is beautiful today. After we eat, come downstairs for a walk with me."

"Not going." He dropped onto the sofa, rejecting her instantly.

Several bags of trash were piled by the door. She didn't need to ask to know he hadn't left in days.

"If you stay cooped up like this, you're going to get sick."

"Then let me die. Better to rot here than go out and have people stare at me like I'm a monster."

His self-loathing sparked a flare of anger in her chest.

But then her gaze landed on the hideous burn scars creeping up his neck and arms.

The anger dissolved into heartache.

The scars weren't just on his skin. They had ravaged his soul.

Ever since his discharge from the hospital, he was a different person. Volatile temper. Complete withdrawal from the world. If this continued, Sara feared his mind would break entirely.

She sat beside him, her voice softening. "If you die, wouldn't my sacrifice be for nothing?"

Simon glanced at her and scoffed. "Who asked you to save me?"

"Right, I was meddling." Her tone dripped with reverse psychology. "I shouldn't have made a deal with the devil to pay your medical bills. I should have just bought a bottle of cheap poison—economical and practical—and set us both free."

She nudged him. "If you don't want to see me, just say the word. I'll leave right now."

His face remained cold, but he fell silent.

Sara was his most important person—and he was hers. They had grown up together in the orphanage, two pieces of driftwood clinging to each other in a stormy sea. No relatives, only each other.

Just like the curtains in this room—no one but Sara was allowed to open them.

"I knew you were bluffing. You can't bear to see me go." A triumphant smile crossed her face as she pulled him toward the dining table. "Now, eat."

Simon used to be a chatterbox. Now he finished the entire meal without uttering a single word.

Sara's heart ached.

Starting at sixteen, he'd worked part-time jobs while studying. No childhood. No fun. He sacrificed his youth, even giving up a chance at graduate school, just so Sara could live like a normal girl. He refused to let her feel inferior to her classmates because of money.

The year of the accident, he had finally caught a break. A good job. On the verge of becoming a regular employee.

Then came the explosion at the restaurant where he moonlighted.

He didn't make it out in time.

Massive burns. ICU. Life hanging by a thread.

It was to scrape together the astronomical medical fees that Sara had entered into this absurd marriage contract with Adrian.

After Simon was discharged, she rented this place and hid him here. The Harding family's drivers and nannies were all Adrian's spies, so she couldn't visit often. She'd hired a caretaker, but this morning, the woman's resignation text arrived.

"Everything was fine—why did you fire her?" The thought of him alone was unbearable.

Simon knew why she'd come. "I have hands and feet. I don't need a babysitter."

"The caretaker's wages come from money I borrowed from a friend. Don't feel burdened. If the Hardings didn't forbid their women from working, I would have gotten a job long ago. Just six more months—once the divorce is final, we won't have to hide anymore."

He listened in silence.

Then he spoke. "I had a dream last night."

He rarely shared anything personal these days. Sara leaned in, feigning bright interest. "Tell me about it."

Half-serious, half-joking, he said, "I dreamed you were getting married, and I went to crash the wedding to steal the bride."

A melodramatic soap opera plot. Sara smiled gently. "Did you succeed?"

"No." His answer was crisp, his expression solemn—as if recounting a memory rather than a fantasy. "You rejected me because I was penniless. You even had security beat me up."

Sara nodded gravely. "That is a tragedy." Then she shifted tone. "Dreams are fake, Simon."

He stared at her fair, flawless face. "Why not say the opposite?"

"Because I never even had a wedding." She laughed, though it didn't reach her eyes. "How could you crash a wedding that never happened?"

She and Adrian had only signed the papers. Even the rings were an afterthought. Back then, the Harding family hadn't accepted her.

When Elijah found out, he'd slapped Adrian in public, accusing him of treating marriage like a game just to spite Eva. But Adrian hadn't listened. When the family objected, he took Sara and moved out.

Whether Eva had tried to win him back then, Sara didn't know, but Adrian's relationship with his family had frozen over.

For six months, they barely spoke. Sara had shamelessly, tirelessly mediated, smoothing things over until she finally earned her place at the table.

Only then did Adrian stop treating her like a pretty vase.

Simon didn't laugh.

His eyes fixed on the faint reddish mark on Sara's neck—he'd noticed it the moment she walked in.

"Looks like he likes you a lot."

"A man brings a wife home—how many are just for display?" Sara lowered her gaze, her thick lashes concealing the emotion in her eyes. "With me, he wants my body, not my heart."

"And you?" Simon asked quietly.

"Did you give him yours?"