When Eva came downstairs, Austin was already seated on the living room sofa.

The atmosphere was heavy. After the servants placed tea and snacks on the coffee table, Landon broke the silence. His tone was measured, balancing respect with the protective instinct of a guardian.

"To be honest with you, Mr. Farley, Eva's parents passed away when she was very young. My wife and I raised her as our own. I cannot bear to see her suffer even the slightest grievance." He paused, steeling himself. "I apologize for troubling you to make this trip, but I believe the marriage arrangement with your family should be called off."

From the very beginning, Landon had opposed this union.

To him, the niece he had painstakingly raised was not a commodity to be traded. He refused to let her sacrifice her happiness for the sake of the company.

Amelia had insisted on the alliance, arguing that they should let Eva decide, while also offering Elliot as an alternative. With no other choice, Landon had agreed to wait for Eva's decision. He just hadn't expected that the girl who had spent years chasing after Elliot would actually agree to the Farley proposal.

The Hensons were a vipers' nest, but the Farley family was no sanctuary either.

Now that Hudson was reportedly unwilling to proceed, Landon saw a perfect opening. He could cancel the engagement without it looking like a slap in the face to the Farley empire.

Austin lowered his gaze slightly. His long fingers rested against the blue-gray porcelain teacup. In the interplay of light and shadow, his expression was unreadable, his depth unfathomable.

He took a slow, deliberate sip before speaking. His voice was cool, devoid of emotion. "I didn't come today to plead Hudson's case. I came to propose."

Propose?

The room seemed to freeze.

Propose to whom?

Hudson had already backed out. Who was left?

Landon and Amelia exchanged confused glances. But in the next second, Austin delivered a sentence that widened their eyes in sheer shock.

"I'm marrying Eva."

Eva, who had just reached the bottom of the stairs, froze. A flicker of confusion disrupted the calm in her eyes.

Her gaze drifted toward the man on the sofa.

Today, he wore a tailored black suit that fit his broad shoulders with military precision. A gold cufflink at his wrist caught the light, flashing coldly. He sat in absolute stillness, exuding an aura of lofty, unapproachable nobility that made the air around him feel thin.

This titan of industry... wants to marry me?

As their eyes met, Eva felt a strange sensation, as if her heart had skipped a beat.

Austin's brow twitched almost imperceptibly. His gaze locked onto hers with an intensity that offered no escape.

"Mr. Farley," Landon stammered, "you... you aren't joking, are you?"

Given Austin's status, why would the Farley family allow him to marry a woman who offered no strategic benefit? A woman whose family was on the brink of collapse?

Austin's expression remained frost-bound. "I don't joke about marriage."

Landon pressed his lips into a thin line. The shock was so profound he didn't know whether to smile or remain stoic. He had never dared to dream of climbing the social ladder to reach the main branch of the Farley family.

Austin paused, arching a brow. "Right now, the union between our families is public knowledge. If we rashly break the engagement, the person most damaged by the fallout will be Eva. I assume that isn't the outcome you want?"

The subtext was brutal but accurate: Eva was already the subject of malicious gossip. If the Farley family publicly dumped her, her reputation would be decimated. In their circle, social standing was everything. A rejected woman from a failing family would find her future prospects severely obstructed.

It was the chain of contempt in high society; those at the bottom were crushed by the weight of it.

Landon understood the threat veiled as logic, but he still hesitated.

"We... we still need to ask Eva what she wants."

"Uncle, Auntie. I'm willing."

Eva stepped forward, her voice steady.

She knew her uncle's hesitation stemmed from love. He would support her for a lifetime if she chose never to marry. But she couldn't be that selfish.

Besides, this outcome was better than she had calculated.

Marrying Austin was like investing in a high-risk, high-yield stock. Even if this marriage was merely a stopgap measure for him, the alliance alone would save her uncle's life's work from destruction. It was a fair trade.

Hearing her answer, a flicker of something unidentifiable passed through Austin's dark eyes.

"I have an overseas business trip in a few days; my return date is uncertain," Austin stated, switching to command mode. "I will pick Eva up tomorrow morning. We will register the marriage first. The wedding ceremony will follow at a later date. Does this suit you?"

Landon blinked. "This... isn't it a bit too fast?"

"The sooner we marry, the sooner the Masons can turn their crisis around. Correct?" Austin's voice was light, yet it carried the weight of a final verdict.

His tone was flat, but to Landon's ears, it stung with irony. Landon felt a flush of shame. He opened his mouth to deny that his hesitation was about money, but Eva cut in, making the decision for him.

"Okay. Tomorrow."

Eva knew the pressure crushing her uncle: the halted factory lines, the looming liquidated damages, the shareholders screaming to sell off the assets. Since she was going to marry Austin eventually, what difference did twenty-four hours make?

After watching the sleek black car disappear around the corner, Landon sighed heavily. "Eva, you were too impulsive just now."

Amelia's expression was equally complicated. "Yes... how could Austin suddenly show up and propose? Is there some hidden agenda?"

Landon looked at his niece with sorrowful eyes. "The Farley family's internal politics are even more vicious than the Hensons'. I'm terrified that you'll suffer if you enter that house."

Even a marriage of equals came with grievances. Marrying into a juggernaut like the Farley family? It was walking into a lion's den. Moreover, there was no emotional foundation. With Austin's cold temperament, Landon doubted the man would protect Eva when things got tough.

Eva knew they were spiraling out of concern. She stepped between them, linking arms with both, and flashed a charming, teasing smile.

"Maybe Mr. Farley saw your niece at the banquet and was thunderstruck. Maybe he thought, 'How can such a stunning girl exist?' and fell in love at first sight, unable to get me out of his head?"

Amelia and Landon looked at her, the tension breaking as they chuckled.

"You... you really inherited your mother's narcissism perfectly," Amelia scolded affectionately.

Landon tapped her forehead, his eyes softening, though the worry didn't fully vanish. "I suppose so."

Eva lifted her chin defiantly. "I think Uncle has a bit of it too."

Landon feigned shock. "Me? Impossible."

Amelia laughed. "Impossible? Who sneaks out of bed in the middle of the night to admire himself in the mirror?"

Landon shook his head, refusing to admit to the crime, and turned to walk back inside. Amelia followed, still teasing him.

Eva stood at the doorway, watching their retreating figures. The playfulness faded from her eyes, replaced by a warm, gentle resolve. She would protect this. Whatever the cost.

Early the next morning, Eva woke and pushed open the glass doors to her terrace. She stepped out to inhale the fresh air, but as she glanced down, she froze.

A black Maybach was parked silently at the gate.

She rubbed her eyes and checked the time. 7:30 AM.

Austin was actually this early?

Not daring to delay, she rushed to wash and change. Yet by the time she was ready and hurried downstairs, an hour had passed.

"Sorry, Mr. Farley. I kept you waiting."

The driver held the door open. As Eva slid into the backseat, she found Austin engrossed in a stack of documents.

Today, he had forgone the suit jacket for a crisp white shirt. The style was simple, devoid of embellishments, yet it accentuated his broad chest and lean frame. He looked reserved, elegant, and intimidatingly perfect.

Eva couldn't help but think that his face alone was a lethal weapon. In all of Seaview City, looks of this caliber were a rare resource.

Sensing her presence, Austin closed the file and set it aside. His voice was a low rumble. "It's fine. Did you bring all the necessary documents?"

Eva nodded. "Mm."

Austin gave a curt signal, and the driver engaged the engine, the car gliding forward smoothly.

The cabin was suffocatingly quiet. Neither spoke.

Eva stared out the window at the street scenery blurring past, her mind racing. She debated whether to ask him the question burning in her throat. She knew a man like him likely wouldn't give her the truth, but still...

What if?

While she warred with her hesitation, the car pulled up to the Civil Affairs Bureau.

Austin didn't move to exit immediately. He sat back, his composure absolute, and broke the deadlock first.

"If you have a question, just ask it."

Eva's eyelid twitched. He reads minds, too?

There was no point in hiding it now. She turned her head, crashing straight into his deep, boundless gaze.

"I want to know, Mr. Farley... why do you want to marry me?"

Austin Farley paused. His long fingers idly traced the face of his watch, his expression unreadable.

Eva Sullivan blinked, her gaze drawn to his face as she waited for an answer. It was a dangerous habit—his features were so striking that one look often turned into a stare.

As if sensing her scrutiny, his lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible arc. His voice was flat, void of emotion. "You need not feel burdened, Miss Sullivan. This is merely a cooperation."

Eva froze. "Cooperation?"

She couldn't fathom what she possessed that was worth scheming for.

The Mason family business was stable, and she had navigated Seaview City's social circles well enough, but they were nothing compared to the Farleys. The Farleys were top-tier old money, a dynasty that rarely deigned to show its face in public. Next to them, the second-generation heirs she knew—the ones who spent their days chasing neon lights and nightlife—were irrelevant.

And Austin Farley, the head of that dynasty, was a figure who usually existed only in rumors.

What could a man like that possibly want from her?

Austin nodded, his pitch-black eyes calm and rippleless. "I require a wife."

Silence stretched between them.

Eva stared at him. That explains absolutely nothing.

In the lobby of the Civil Affairs Bureau, bright red slogans scrolled across the LED screens in an endless loop. Less than twenty minutes later, a fresh, warm marriage certificate was pressed into Eva's hands.

Outside, the sun blazed. Dappled shadows danced across the red booklet in her grip. For reasons she couldn't explain, the tension in her shoulders released.

It was strange. She felt safer with this stranger than she had in years.

Austin descended the stairs and stopped beside her. The noon sunlight softened the hard planes of his face, dyeing his dark eyes with a warm luster that momentarily neutralized his cold aura.

"My flight to Harbor City leaves at two. My return date is indefinite." He checked his watch. "My assistant will see you home."

Eva looked up at him blankly. For a split second, she had the illusion of a boyfriend checking in with his girlfriend.

"Okay."

She watched his tall, imposing figure disappear into a waiting car before lowering her gaze to the certificate. She flipped it open. Their photos sat side by side.

Handsome man, beautiful woman. On paper, they looked like a perfect match.

Before the irony could fully set in, a woman in professional attire approached. She adjusted her gold-rimmed glasses and offered a practiced smile.

"Hello, Ma'am. I'm Grace Simmons, Mr. Farley's assistant."

Grace had neat short hair and radiated capability. She had a disarming presence, the kind that made people lower their guard without realizing it.

Austin doesn't hire fools, Eva noted.

On the drive, Eva watched the scenery change. The streets were becoming increasingly unfamiliar.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

Austin had said his assistant would take her home, but this was definitely not the route to the Mason estate.

Grace kept her eyes on the road, her expression unruffled. "Mr. Farley has purchased the Harbor Villa on the Coastal Highway as your marital residence. We're heading there now."

Coastal Highway. Harbor Villa.

It was the most exclusive district in Seaview City, where every inch of land was worth a fortune. Even the air there seemed to come with a price tag.

As the massive iron gates slid open, Eva suddenly thought of Elliot.

Back then, he had tried to buy a property here. He had pulled every string he had, but couldn't even get past the screening process. She still remembered the look on his face when the agent told him his status didn't meet the requirements—furious, his ego bruised, yet forced to maintain a polite facade.

Interesting, she thought, cold satisfaction settling in her chest.

The car glided to a stop. Grace exited and opened the door for Eva, her tone businesslike.

"Mr. Farley set the door code as your birthday. Here's my card. If you need anything, feel free to call me anytime."

After the assistant left, Eva stood under the porch, staring at the high-end electronic lock.

Why is the password my birthday?

And how did Austin know my birthday?

She punched in the numbers. The lock clicked, and the door swung open.

Right. A man like Austin Farley wouldn't marry blindly. He probably had a file on her ancestry going back eighteen generations sitting in his office drawer.

The villa's interior was minimalist—cold but expensive. The kitchen and dining room were fully stocked. In the walk-in closet, men's and women's clothing hung in neat rows, all the latest seasonal styles.

Eva collapsed onto the large, soft bed. She had intended to nap, but the moment her eyes closed, her phone buzzed.

An unfamiliar number.

She hesitated, then declined the call.

A second later, the phone rang again, stubborn and demanding.

Eva frowned and swiped to answer.

"Where are you? We need to talk."

Even without a contact name, the voice was unmistakable. Elliot.

Without a word, she hung up.

She had decided to start a new life. That meant throwing the trash from her past far, far away. She rolled over, pulling the duvet up, but the phone dinged with a message.

You wouldn't want me to go find your uncle and aunt for a little chat, would you?

Eva's blood ran cold. Her fingers hovered over the screen as another message popped up: Answer the phone!

She dialed him back. Elliot answered immediately, his tone slightly less aggressive now that he had her attention.

"Where are you? I'll come pick you up."

"I thought I made myself clear last time," Eva said, her voice icy. "From now on, let's not contact each other. Okay?"

Silence on the other end. She could practically hear him suppressing his rage.

For eight years, Eva had been at his beck and call. She came when he whistled and left when he dismissed her. In his mind, he was giving her a chance, yet she dared to put on airs.

"Eva, are you serious?"

Eva's lips curled. "Do I sound like I'm joking?"

Elliot slammed the phone down.

Eva didn't hesitate. She added the number to her blacklist instantly.

She looked up. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, dark, heavy clouds were massing over the ocean. The water was turbulent, churning gray and black.

A storm was coming.

Eva took a deep breath, the weight of those absurd eight years pressing down on her. Eight years of being humble, of grinding her dignity into the dust for a man who didn't care.

She couldn't let Elliot poison her family. To stop him from harassing her uncle and aunt, she called a taxi and headed for the Mason residence.

Thirty minutes later, the taxi pulled up to the Mason villa. Muffled thunder rolled in the distance, and the sky opened up. Rain fell in sheets, bean-sized drops cracking against the car windows.

Eva's heart sank. Chaotic memories flashed through her mind, synchronized with the storm.

She paid the driver and pushed the door open.

The deluge drenched her instantly. She lowered her head and ran toward the villa gate. But before she could reach shelter, a hand clamped around her wrist like an iron shackle and yanked her violently into a hard embrace.

A cloying blend of women's perfume, tobacco, and stale liquor assaulted her senses.

Eva Sullivan didn't need to look up to know who stood before her.

Instinct took over. She recoiled, putting several feet of distance between them. "What is the meaning of this, Mr. Henson?"

Seeing his face again clawed at old wounds. It felt as though a fist had clenched around her heart, squeezing until it bruised.

Elliot noticed her revulsion. His expression faltered, but he quickly recovered, tilting his umbrella to shield her from the downpour. "What happened before... that was my fault. I'm here to apologize."

His tone dripped with heavy, feigned remorse. If she hadn't heard the truth with her own ears that night, she might have been fool enough to believe him again.

She glanced at the curtain of rain, then fixed him with a cold stare. "If you have something to say, say it."

For the favored son of the Henson family to lower himself to this—standing in the rain, offering apologies—it meant he had hit a wall. A wall only she could dismantle.

Elliot reached for her hand, but she sidestepped him effortlessly.

A flicker of annoyance crossed his brow, instantly masked by a look of tender concern. He pulled a velvet box from his pocket and offered it to her. "You mentioned you liked this once. I had a friend bring it back from abroad."

Inside lay a bracelet of lustrous pearls and deep red rubies—the latest piece from her favorite designer. She had planned to fly to Paris to buy it herself before the crisis at her uncle's company derailed her life.

She couldn't remember the last time she had cared about such things.

Once, this gesture would have sent her heart racing. Now, looking at the glittering gems, she felt nothing but a hollow ache.

"Let me guess," Eva said, her voice flat. "You're here about the Salazar contract."

She didn't touch the bracelet. She just stripped him bare.

Elliot's patience snapped. He dropped the pretense. "You handled Blake Salazar's order before. The contract has expired, and I hear he's looking elsewhere. I need you to smooth things over."

Eva let out a short, self-mocking laugh. "Sorry. I can't help you."

Years ago, when Old Mr. Henson returned to the country, Elliot had been desperate to prove himself. He had boasted that he would secure the Salazar Group's annual contract. But it was a massive account, and wolves were circling. Elliot's proposal had been mediocre at best.

To save him, Eva had debased herself. She leveraged every connection, drained her savings, and played the dutiful companion to Blake Salazar's wife for a week just to get a foot in the door.

She remembered the night she finally secured the deal. She had drunk until she vomited, curling up on a bathroom stall floor, clutching the signed contract to her chest while alcohol burned a hole in her stomach.

And her reward? Walking in on Elliot tangled in the sheets with another woman.

God, I was stupid.

She turned to leave, but Elliot caught her wrist in a vice-like grip.

"Eva Sullivan, what is wrong with you?"

His face had darkened, the veins in his hand bulging as he squeezed the umbrella handle.

Eva ripped her arm free, her gaze turning glacial. "A soulless, boring bootlicker. Isn't that what you called me? Have you run out of entertainment, Mr. Henson?"

She stared straight into his eyes. For a second, his pupils dilated. Panic flashed across his face.

"You heard that? Listen, let me explain. I didn't mean it. I just—"

"You were just drunk? It meant nothing?" Eva smiled, though her eyes burned with unshed tears. "Is that the script?"

"Eva..."

The rain intensified, drumming a chaotic rhythm against the asphalt.

Eva took a steadying breath and looked away. "We are done. Completely."

"No, actually, we never really started. Instead of debasing yourself here, you should try relying on your own competence to save that contract."

Elliot's expression hardened into ice. He straightened his spine, looking down at her with his usual arrogance. "I'm giving you a chance. Don't regret this."

Eva looked up, catching a glimmer of expectation in his eyes.

Expectation?

He actually thought she would fold. He thought she would beg him to take her back, just like before.

She laughed, the sound sharp and brittle. "My only regret is that I ever met you."

Elliot slammed the bracelet onto the wet ground. He gave her one last look of utter contempt before turning on his heel.

A moment later, the roar of an engine tore through the air. His luxury sports car peeled away, tires screeching as they mercilessly crushed the scattered pearls into the mud. Dirty water splashed up, stinging Eva's face.

She watched the taillights fade into the gray mist.

She stood rooted to the spot, her eyes losing focus.

It was over.

CRACK.

Thunder exploded overhead, a deafening boom that shook the ground beneath her feet. It felt as if a hammer had slammed into her chest.

A child's scream echoed in her ears.

In a heartbeat, the street vanished. She was back there. The smell of burning rubber... the white smoke rising from the twisted metal... the rain unable to wash away the blood.

She lay on the glass-strewn pavement, unable to move, watching through a haze as paramedics lifted her parents onto stretchers. They were so still. So red.

The memory clawed at her throat. The agony, sharp and familiar, pierced her heart. It had been over a decade, yet every thunderstorm dragged her back to that hell.

"Eva! Eva!"

A frantic voice broke through the nightmare. Eva turned her head, her vision swimming. As the face before her sharpened, the dam broke.

"Auntie..."

"I've got you. I'm here."

Amelia Fletcher pulled her into a fierce embrace, patting her back rhythmically. "It's okay. Let's go home."

Inside the warm house, Landon Mason emerged from the kitchen, spatula in hand. Seeing Eva's drenched, trembling form, his face crumpled with worry.

He opened his mouth to ask what happened, but a sharp glare from Amelia silenced him. He swallowed his questions and retreated.

Upstairs, Amelia wrapped Eva in thick, warm towels.

"Silly girl," she muttered, rubbing warmth into Eva's arms. "Why didn't you call your uncle to pick you up? Look at this weather! And that husband of yours—Austin let you come home alone in this storm? The man is useless."

"Auntie, he's in Harbor City on business," Eva lied through chattering teeth. "He had the driver bring me."

Amelia paused, studying her niece's pale face. "Did he... did he bully you?"

Eva shook her head, forcing a weak smile. "No. He treats me well."

Seeing the doubt in Amelia's eyes, she added, "He bought the Harbor Bay villa. He said it would be our wedding home."

Amelia hesitated, then sighed softly. "As long as he treats you right. Go take a hot bath. I'll make you some ginger soup."

"Thank you, Auntie."

The moment the door clicked shut, Eva's smile collapsed. She leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor, tears streaming silently down her face.

While rain drowned Seaview City, Harbor City basked in clear, ruthless sunlight.

A black sedan glided through the bustling streets, the harbor waters glittering in the distance.

Inside the car, Austin Farley rested his head against the leather seat, eyes closed. When Grace Simmons's call came through, he answered without moving.

"Sir, Mrs. Farley has returned to the Mason residence."

"Mm." His voice was low, devoid of emotion.

Grace hesitated on the other end of the line. "There's... something else. Elliot Henson went to the Mason house to see her. It appears they still have unfinished business."