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."

After a long silence, Austin slowly opened his eyes. A glint of cold calculation flashed within them. "How did you know?"

His tone was calm, yet it carried a suffocating weight that made Grace's heart hammer against her ribs.

"I was worried about Mrs. Farley. I thought—"

"Next time you overstep, just leave."

Austin didn't wait for an explanation. He ended the call.

By then, the car had rolled to a stop. The driver exited swiftly to hold the door open.

The manor, perched halfway up the mountain, was already teeming with guests. The sprawling estate was packed with Harbor City's elite—heirs in bespoke suits and socialites in couture gowns. The moment Austin stepped into view, the atmosphere shifted. He drew gazes like a magnet.

The butler hurried to the poolside and whispered to a man currently frolicking in the water with a beauty. The man immediately climbed out, wrapped a towel around his waist, and headed upstairs.

"Why show up now? Being late isn't your style."

Austin ignored the jab. He hit send on a text message he had been drafting before finally speaking. "Where is he?"

The man grinned, closing the distance between them. "What's the rush? Since you're here, have a drink. He can't run away."

Austin glanced at him. He said nothing, but his gaze was heavy enough to strip the humor from the air.

Unsettled by the scrutiny, the man raised his hands in surrender. "Fine. I'll have someone bring him over later. But aren't there any decent composers in Seaview City? You had to come all the way here? And for a third-rate hack drowning in gambling debt, no less."

Austin idly spun his phone between his fingers, eyes lowered, expression flat.

"Maybe."

The man frowned, then his face lit up with a sudden thought. He leaned in again. "Oh, right. My mom made a decree—she's inviting you to dinner tomorrow. There's a surprise."

One look at the man's fawning expression told Austin exactly what kind of "surprise" was in store. "Not convenient."

The man blinked. "What do you mean, 'not convenient'? Mom said you've rejected her invite multiple times. She's losing face in front of her social circle. You have to go this time. Just once."

Austin lifted his gaze. "I have a family now. Thank Auntie for her kindness, but no."

"..."

The man sprang up as if struck by lightning. "Since when?"

"Six hours ago."

"..."

Deathly silence filled the room.

Seconds later, a notification chime broke the deadlock. Austin glanced at his screen. It was a photo of a man and a woman embracing in the heavy rain.

Grace's message followed: Sir, I just didn't want you to be deceived.

The rain blurred the faces in the photo, but the clothes the woman wore were all too familiar.

Austin's jaw tightened. He typed a reply.

You're fired.

"Cousin, what are you looking at? A photo of my new cousin-in-law? Let me see!" The man lunged forward, his face alight with gossip.

Austin locked his phone and pocketed it, his aura darkening instantly. "If I were you, I wouldn't be celebrating."

The man paused, reading the room. He threw his head back and let out a dramatic howl. "Oh no! Looks like I need to flee the country for a few days. Hey, Cousin, how about I go with you to Seaview City? It's the perfect time to meet the new Mrs. Farley."

Austin looked him up and down, his gaze resting on the man's hair—a garish gradient of white fading into purple and red.

"Your new cousin-in-law might not want to see you."

At that exact moment, a certain new cousin-in-law sneezed.

Eva rubbed her nose, bewildered. She looked down at the text message from an unfamiliar number on her phone: Already landed in Harbor City.

She read the five words over and over. Suddenly, Austin's parting words echoed in her mind.

She hesitated, then set the phone down on the table.

She didn't know how to reply. She didn't know what to say.

Dinner had passed, and the rain that had raged all day finally ceased.

A gentle evening breeze, heavy with moisture, drifted through the air. Eva curled up on the terrace sofa, gazing at the pitch-black sky. She picked up a beer and took a slow sip.

Reflections of the past few days played on a loop in her mind.

The phone screen on the table lit up again.

It was news regarding the investigation she had asked a friend to conduct.

After replying to that message, she remembered the unread text from her husband. She opened the chat interface again. Staring at his brief update, she typed a simple response.

Okay.

Less than ten seconds later, her phone began to ring. It was him.