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?"

Sara's jaw tightened mid-chew. She smoothed her expression and shook her head. "No."

Simon's gaze didn't waver. "The truth."

"Why would I lie to you?" She met his eyes, her voice steady. "Adrian Harding values people who know their place. If I didn't, he wouldn't have sought me out. Do you really think I'd dare challenge his boundaries?"

Something in Simon's shoulders loosened. He exhaled slowly, the tension bleeding out of him.

Silence stretched between them. Then, without a word, he picked up a choice cut of meat and placed it in her bowl.

The gesture said what he couldn't. Simon had never been one for sweet words or apologies—he let his actions speak instead.

Sara felt the knot in her chest unravel. Despite the simple meal, she was lighter than she'd been in months. Only with Simon could she shed the suffocating rules of "high society" and just *be*. He wouldn't judge her. He demanded nothing.

Before leaving, she insisted he hire the caretaker back. Since the restaurant explosion, the mere mention of fire drained the blood from his face. Leaving him alone wasn't an option.

She hurried home.

The apartment greeted her with hollow silence.

Adrian didn't return. A single message arrived before bed—perfunctory, brief, offering no explanation.

She had waited, hungry and hopeful, only to be stood up. She'd even messaged him in advance.

Ever since Eva James returned, the ground beneath Sara's feet had been shifting.

What surprised her even more was Eva reaching out to arrange a meal. Sara wanted to refuse, but Adrian's erratic behavior left her grasping at air. If he planned to reconcile with his ex, she needed to prepare her exit strategy.

She went.

The location was the very restaurant Adrian had taken her to countless times.

The moment Sara stepped inside, Eva's gaze locked onto her. Gone was the gentle facade from their last encounter. Today, she radiated a suffocating superiority.

This wasn't a social call.

It was a negotiation.

Sara sat down, posture neutral. "Ms. James. You wanted to see me?"

"Assistant Navarro and I are old acquaintances. Our last meeting was too rushed—I wanted to catch up." Eva's smile didn't reach her eyes. "And while I'm at it—"

She pulled something from her handbag and slid it across the table. "Adrian left this with me. I'd appreciate it if you returned it to him."

Lying on the white tablecloth was the watch Adrian had worn the day he visited the old residence.

So when he left in the middle of the night without a word, he had gone straight to her.

It was no longer a suspicion.

It was a cold, hard fact.

"It's just a watch." Sara kept her voice light, breezy—as if her heart wasn't hammering against her ribs. "Why would Ms. James need to make a personal trip for something so trivial?"

Eva's lips curled. Calm. Triumphant. "He's a very nostalgic man. This watch was the first birthday gift I ever gave him. He's worn it for years."

She watched Sara like a hawk circling prey. "And this restaurant... the brand of clothes you're wearing... we founded them together back then."

*So that's how it is.*

Sara had noticed Adrian's "soft spots" for certain brands and places. She hadn't realized they were all monuments to Eva. He had never forgotten her.

He just never spoke her name.

Under the table, Sara's nails dug into her palms.

She had lied to Simon.

And she had been lying to herself.

A man might separate sex from love, but she couldn't. Two and a half years of marriage had fostered feelings she had no business having for the man who sheltered her.

She knew the chasm between them. She kept calling him "Mr. Harding" to remind him of his comfort zone—and to remind herself of her place. But in this moment, the ache spreading through her chest told her the truth.

She was in far deeper than she'd thought.

"What?" Eva tilted her head, mock concern dripping from every syllable. "Did Assistant Navarro not know?"

She saw the crack in Sara's armor. Her smile deepened, a ghost of mockery playing at the corners of her mouth.

"I really didn't," Sara admitted, deciding to drop the charade. "But people and objects aren't exactly comparable, are they?"

"True." Eva's voice turned silky. "That's why I called him that night to test him. I didn't expect him to actually come."

Eva knew exactly how to twist the knife.

Sara's eyes narrowed. "Given Ms. James's arrogance, did something happen between you and my husband?"

Eva only smiled, saying nothing.

She let the silence do the work. Let Sara's imagination run wild.

Under what circumstances would a man take off his watch?

Sara thought of Adrian's habits. He only removed it to shower—before and after sex.

"Ms. James, do you understand the concept of a breakup?" A dry laugh escaped her throat. "It seems when you told everyone at the club 'I only want to be friends,' you were lying."

Eva didn't flinch. "If he had no feelings for me, I wouldn't cling to him."

"But your actions contradict your words. And why do you think he still has feelings? Because of one phone call?" Sara tilted her head, feigning amusement. "Anyone with a shred of compassion wouldn't stand by and watch someone die."

"Since Assistant Navarro doesn't believe me—" Eva raised her glass in a mocking toast, challenge glittering in her eyes. "Let's wait and see."

At exactly five o'clock, Sara arrived at the Harding Group's underground parking garage.

Adrian could neglect her, but she couldn't neglect him. One misstep, and the fragile peace she'd repaired would shatter.

She didn't go up. She sat in the car, waiting.

Because of her former status as his assistant, Sara rarely appeared at the company after their marriage. A Cinderella story of an assistant marrying the CEO looked inspirational on the surface, but behind closed doors, it attracted scorn.

Perhaps being back at her old workplace triggered the memories. Sara's mind drifted to their wedding.

After his breakup with Eva, Adrian had become a machine. Four hours of sleep a night. Every other second filled with high-intensity work until his body nearly collapsed.

Sara, as his assistant, had been the one picking up the pieces.

In his hotel suite, Adrian had asked her without preamble: "I heard you need money."

At the time, Simon was in critical condition after the explosion. Sara had drained her savings and borrowed from every friend she had, but she'd barely scraped together a third of what was needed. She'd applied for a salary advance, never expecting the CEO to notice.

Before she could respond, Adrian dropped the bomb. "Marry me, and I'll give you everything you want."

It hadn't even been twenty days since Eva left him.

Sara stared at him in disbelief. "Why me?"

His answer was cold and concise. "I need a wife."

A transaction, clearly priced. He used her to retaliate against Eva's abandonment. Sara knew this. But with Simon dying in a hospital bed, dignity was a luxury she couldn't afford. Every second she hesitated, Simon's chances of survival dropped.

She didn't think twice.

She couldn't lose Simon. They weren't blood relatives, but they were family.

From proposal to marriage certificate, it took two days. She sold herself into the marriage in a daze.

Back then, she never expected to fall in love with him.

And she certainly never expected that once she did, Eva would return.

A group of people exited the elevator, snapping Sara back to reality.

Adrian was in the center. Sharp suit, commanding attention, standing out effortlessly from the crowd.

The driver unlocked the doors, expecting Sara to get out. She stayed put. The short distance between the car and the elevator felt like an uncrossable chasm.

"Work was hard."

When the crowd dispersed and he opened the car door, Sara had already buried her sorrow. She greeted him with a practiced smile.

Adrian paused, surprised to see her. "When did you get here?"

"Just now." Warmth coated her voice. "Are you working overtime tonight? The housekeeper made dinner—let's go home together?"

He didn't refuse. He barked a few final instructions to his secretary, then slid into the car.

Sara kept to her side, silent and obedient. When he closed his eyes to rest, he hated chatter.

She thought she had memorized all his preferences. After two years, she still hadn't cracked the code to his heart.

Against Eva, she was defenseless.

Even her love had to be hidden, lest he find it burdensome.

"Who did you see?"

The man beside her—who she thought was sleeping—suddenly spoke, his brow furrowed.

Sara froze. "Mr. Harding, why do you ask?"

His eyes opened, expression unreadable. "You never use this perfume."

Sara lowered her head and sniffed. The scent of Eva still clung to her clothes.

A bitter laugh threatened to escape. In the past, he never noticed the details of her life. Now he noticed—because the scent belonged to *her*.

She handed over the watch. "Ms. James came to return something."

Adrian glanced at it but didn't take it. No guilt crossed his features. No panic at being caught in a lie.

"Mr. Harding isn't going to say anything?" Sara half-joked, testing the waters. "You tricked me quite thoroughly. Luckily I'm quick on my feet, or the family at the old residence would have been suspicious."

His lips twitched, devoid of warmth. "If you didn't have that much ability, you wouldn't be 'Mrs. Harding.'"

"You really have no conscience." She smiled to cover the sting.

He truly didn't care about her feelings.

Adrian's gaze sharpened. His voice dropped to a command. "Stay away from her."

"What are you worried about?" Sara asked, genuinely confused. "Afraid I'll be bullied? Or afraid I'll bully her?"