"Elliot, are you seriously going to say yes to Eva Sullivan?"

In the dimly lit, smoke-filled private room, a man stood up, poured a glass of liquor for the man beside him, and tossed out the question with a gossip-hungry grin.

Elliot Henson took the cigarette case offered to him, caught a cigarette between his lips, and lit it. The flame illuminated his nonchalant, mocking smile. "Would you date a soulless lapdog? Where's the fun in that? I'm just playing around to kill time. That's all she is."

The comment triggered an eruption of laughter. The man who'd asked gave Elliot a thumbs-up. "Classic Elliot. That idiot Eva is probably still sprinting through the rain like a fool just to deliver your medicine!"

Standing just outside the door, the "idiot" they were mocking heard every word.

Eva Sullivan froze, her hand gripping the glass medicine bottle so hard her knuckles turned white.

Crack.

The glass shattered in her palm. Medicine and bright red blood dripped from her fingertips, splashing onto the floor.

The pain was sharp and immediate, but it paled next to the ache in her chest.

Eva had loved Elliot for eight years. For nearly a decade, she had poured her heart into him, sacrificing her dignity to be the perfect companion.

When he traveled for business, she booked his flights and packed his luggage. When his stomach acted up, she—a girl who'd never touched a kitchen knife—learned to cook and simmer soups just to soothe his discomfort. When he entertained clients, a single phone call brought her running. She drank for him, glass after glass, until she was vomiting in the bathroom, just to save him the trouble.

Tonight, a storm was raging over Seaview City. Elliot had called, claiming his stomach pain had flared up, demanding she deliver his medicine within ten minutes. He'd even dangled a promise: if she made it in time, he would finally agree to be with her.

She had thought she'd finally glimpsed daylight at the end of a long, dark tunnel. She hadn't realized it was just another one of Elliot's tricks—a game to train his obedient dog.

Her fingers slowly uncurled. The shards of glass and blood-streaked medicine fell to the carpet with a dull thud. Eva's eyes burned, rims turning red.

She tucked a strand of wet hair behind her ear. Her reflection in the hallway mirror showed a woman soaked to the bone, looking pathetic. Passersby cast strange looks her way, whispering as they hurried past, treating her like a spectacle.

The phone in her bag buzzed against her hip.

Eva numbly retrieved it. The screen flashed with her uncle's name.

"Eva, it's late. Why aren't you home yet?"

Before she could force a word past the lump in her throat, her aunt's sharp voice cut through from the background.

"If she doesn't want to come back, let her stay out! The girl is an adult—you can't tie her to your side forever. Right now, her entire world revolves around that Elliot Henson. Do you think she has any room in her eyes for her uncle? I'm telling you, stop meddling before you become a nuisance to her."

"Amelia, what nonsense are you spouting?" her uncle snapped.

"Nonsense? You think I'm talking nonsense, Landon? In this family, my opinion means nothing, is that it?"

Listening to the argument escalating on the other end, Eva's hand trembled.

Ever since Mason Group's funding chain broke, the arguments between her uncle and aunt had become a daily ritual. And she knew, deep down, that she was the crux of the problem. If she weren't so focused on Elliot, if she were more useful...

Guilt washed over her, colder than the rain outside. Eva took a deep breath, steadying her voice.

"Uncle, Aunt... stop fighting. I'm willing to accept the marriage alliance. I'll marry into the Farley family."

The line went dead silent.

A moment later, Amelia spoke up, her voice trembling with disbelief. "Eva... what did you just say?"

In the upper-class circles of Seaview City, everyone knew Eva Sullivan had chased Elliot Henson for eight years. She'd made it clear she would marry no one but him. Because of this, Amelia had endured endless mockery from other wealthy wives, who laughed at her niece for being a delusional girl trying to punch above her weight.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Amelia. I'm sorry for making you worry all this time," Eva said softly. "Don't worry. I won't be willful anymore."

"Eva, are you okay? Where are you? Let your uncle come pick you up."

Despite Amelia's sharp tongue and her desperate hope for the Farley alliance to save the company, the hollowness in Eva's voice triggered her maternal instincts. Genuine worry rose in her chest.

Eva had claimed she was giving up on Elliot before, only to go running back to him after a few days of depression. She was usually stubborn, deaf to persuasion. But this time... this time sounded different. It sounded final.

"I'm fine," Eva lied. "I'm staying at a friend's place tonight, so I won't be coming home."

She forced a smile onto her face, though no one could see it. A brittle, fractured expression, more painful to look at than tears.

After hanging up, Eva looked back at the closed door of the private room one last time.

She was done. She would never love Elliot Henson again.

This time, it was a clean break.

When Eva reached the ground floor, her phone buzzed again. Elliot Henson. The name flashed relentlessly on the screen.

She didn't hesitate. She declined the call.

A moment later, a message pinged. A single punctuation mark: ?

Eva paused, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. Then she typed a lie, cool and calculated: The rain is torrential. I can't get a cab. I'm running there now. Wait for me.

She hit send. As expected, silence followed.

A bitter smile touched her lips. With a final tap, she added his number to the blacklist. Goodbye, Elliot.

Outside, the ride-hailing car she'd booked in advance was already waiting—dry and warm.

She'd ordered it ages ago, long before she left the room. Back then, she'd been terrified the storm would keep her from reaching him. She'd worried about his chronic gastritis flaring up, terrified his medicine wouldn't work, that she'd be too late to help.

Now, looking back at her frantic concern, the word doormat echoed in her mind.

Perhaps her life had been too comfortable lately, making her soft in the head. Why else would she have been so eager to invite suffering?

Her life hadn't always been easy. When she was ten, a car accident claimed her parents' lives. She was the sole survivor.

The Sullivan family cast her aside. They disliked that she was a girl and branded her a "jinx," making it clear she was unwelcome.

It was her aunt and uncle, the Masons, who took her in.

Amelia couldn't have children, so for over a decade, the couple had loved Eva as their own. They denied her nothing—except Elliot Henson.

Amelia had warned her. The Henson family is a vipers' nest. And Elliot? He doesn't look like a man who can protect you.

Eva hadn't believed it then. She'd defended him at every turn.

Now, the memory of her naivety felt like a slap to the face.

Rain blurred the city lights outside the car window, mirroring the storm settling in her chest.

After getting her injured hand bandaged at a hospital, she took a taxi to a hotel. As she pulled out her phone to pay, a news notification popped up.

#HEAD OF FARLEY GROUP RETURNS MYSTERIOUSLY TODAY#

Below the headline sat a grainy, indistinct photo.

Eva swiped it away and opened her payment app.

She knew a little about the Farley family. The young man her aunt had found—Hudson Farley—carried the prestigious surname but had no inheritance rights. Once she married him, she doubted she'd ever interact with the elusive "person in power" mentioned in the news.

The thought of the arranged marriage no longer caused a ripple of anxiety. Her uncle and aunt had given her everything; it was time she stopped being selfish.

Early the next morning, Eva returned to the Mason residence.

Amelia had already laid out a dossier on the coffee table. Photographs of Hudson Farley spread out like a fan.

He was handsome in a conventional way, radiating the high-spirited energy of a wealthy youth who'd never known hardship. Third among the Farley cousins. Rumor had it he'd just returned from studying abroad and possessed a mild temperament.

He wouldn't inherit the empire, but the Farley name alone ensured a life of luxury. Not a bad deal.

"There's a banquet tonight," Amelia said, her tone businesslike but her eyes watchful. "You'll come with me. It's the perfect opportunity for you two to meet."

She paused, smoothing the hem of her skirt. Then she sighed and dropped the other shoe.

"Eva... there's something else you need to know about Hudson."

The reality of Eva's "good match" became clear. The only reason a woman of her status could climb into a top-tier family like the Farleys was that Hudson Farley was damaged goods.

He'd gotten involved with a nightclub hostess and impregnated her.

The woman had tried to leverage the child into the family, but the Farleys were ruthless. They couldn't allow such a scandal to tarnish their reputation. They'd paid her off to disappear, but were left with a problem: Hudson needed a wife. Specifically, a well-educated, sensible, easily controlled wife to stabilize his image.

"This matter..." Amelia's voice trembled. "If you can't accept it, we'll forget this marriage. Don't worry about the company. Don't blame your aunt... I only just found out the details."

Eva wasn't her biological daughter, but Amelia had loved her fiercely for more than ten years. If the Mason family hadn't been backed into a corner, she never would have suggested such a compromise.

Eva looked at the photos of the smiling young man.

"Aunt Amelia," she said softly, her voice steady. "I can accept it."

Money, status, and a ready-made child? She wouldn't have to go through childbirth, wouldn't have to pretend to be in love. She'd have everything she needed, except affection.

And right now, affection was the last thing she wanted. This marriage was perfect.

Night had fallen, and the banquet was already in full swing.

Perched halfway up the mountain, the Farley estate blazed with light, a beacon of extravagance overlooking Seaview City. Inside, the atmosphere was thick with expensive perfume and old money. Guests brushed shoulders, their conversations a hum of calculated pleasantries and social maneuvering.

Everyone here was either wealthy or noble.

Amelia navigated the crowd, towing Eva behind her. She scanned the room for Hudson, but after a full lap of the ballroom, the Farley family remained conspicuously absent.

"Eva, I need to make a call." Amelia checked her phone. "Wait here. Don't wander off."

"Okay."

Eva retreated to a shadowed corner, away from prying eyes. She had no patience for these events. As a daughter of the Mason family, she knew the script—smile, nod, flatter—but tonight, she was exhausted. Silence was preferable to fake pleasantries.

She waited for what felt like an eternity. Amelia didn't return.

Instead, a man in a crisp uniform approached with a stiff bow. "Miss Sullivan? Mrs. Fletcher is with Madam Farley. I've been asked to escort you to the private villa."

Eva nodded and followed the butler through the manicured gardens to the residence at the back of the estate.

As the heavy oak doors swung open, a man's sneer drifted from the living room, dripping with contempt.

"Why did you settle on Eva Sullivan without asking me?"

The voice was young, petulant, loud. "Everyone in the circle knows she's Elliot's lapdog. I'm not marrying a woman who spent years chasing another man like a desperate shadow. Let whoever wants her take her!"

Lapdog.

Eva's fingers tightened against her palm, but her face remained a porcelain mask. She had learned long ago to armor herself against such words.

The butler cleared his throat loudly, stepping into the room. "Madam, Hudson... Miss Sullivan has arrived."

Hudson scoffed, his face twisted in disdain. He stood, clearly intending to storm out.

"Hudson."

The command cut through the air like a blade of ice.

"Apologize to Miss Sullivan."

From the shadows of the staircase, a tall figure descended. The man's features were carved from cold marble, his jawline sharp and uncompromising. He radiated a chilling authority that seemed to suck the oxygen from the room.

Hudson froze. His arrogance vanished, replaced by visible trembling. He straightened like a soldier facing a firing squad.

"Austin," Hudson murmured, bowing his head in instinctive submission.

Eva's brows lifted slightly. She didn't need an introduction.

Austin Farley. The true power behind the Farley empire. An existence that all of Seaview City feared and respected. The kind of man who dominated headlines just by stepping off a plane.

If he was here, it was undoubtedly to oversee Hudson's marriage.

Eva raised her eyes. Her gaze collided with Austin's.

His eyes were pitch-black, bottomless pools that offered no warmth. The sheer weight of his stare was suffocating. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and she instinctively lowered her head to break the connection.

Austin sank onto the sofa, his silence louder than any shout.

Only then did Mrs. Farley dare to breathe. She rushed forward, taking Eva's hand with feigned warmth, desperate to smooth over the tension.

Hudson seized the opportunity to edge toward the door.

"Did I say you could leave?"

Austin's voice dropped an octave, carrying a terrifying weight.

Hudson's feet glued to the floor. Slowly, he turned back to face Eva.

He opened his mouth to mumble an insincere apology, but the words died in his throat. His eyes widened as he actually looked at her.

Damn. Who the hell said she was plain?

Because Elliot preferred gentle, modest women, Eva had spent years dimming her light. Drab clothes, no makeup—delicate but forgettable.

But she was done with Elliot. And she was done hiding.

Tonight, her features were striking. Eyes bright and sharp, her beauty aggressive and undeniable. She stood with a quiet dignity that made it impossible to look away.

A cold sensation prickled the back of Hudson's neck. His uncle was watching him with the intensity of a predator.

Hudson shivered, snapping back to reality. "I... I'm sorry, Miss Sullivan."

He swallowed hard. Suddenly, this arranged marriage didn't seem like such a burden after all.