Like many women who refuse to give up until they hit a dead end, Winter Scott once tried to make a man like Chris Xander fall in love with her.

But after three years of marriage, they were nothing more than strangers.

When she was brutally attacked and her life was hanging by a thread, Chris wasn’t with her. He was by the side of his former love.

Winter forced herself to let go. Yet the powerful man she thought she had left behind refused to disappear from her life.

Step by step, he closed in on her, cutting off any chance of a new romance in her life and blocking every path of retreat.

“You’re the one who insisted on marrying me back then,” he said coldly. “As long as I don’t agree to a divorce, you’ll never be free of me.”

Winter looked at him coldly. “Sorry, Mr. Xander. Game over. This marriage ends when I say it ends.”

When Winter Scott stepped out of the police station, it was already late at night.

Snow was falling heavily outside.

People on the street kept glancing at Winter, noticing the bruises on her face, her messy hair, and the way she limped.

Winter ignored their stares and whispers completely.

She dragged her heavy steps forward, head lowered, her expression numb as she stared at the broken phone in her hand. The screen was shattered beyond repair.

Her fingers, smeared with blood, trembled as they tapped the keypad. She slowly keyed in the number.

“Beep…”

The phone rang repeatedly, but there was no answer. It was no different from the emergency calls she had desperately made while she was being beaten. A snowflake caught on her eyelash, and when she blinked, the icy water melted into her eye.

Winter let out a quiet, self-deprecating scoff at how pathetic she looked. Just as her hand began to drop in defeat, the call connected at the very last second.

“What is it?”

A low, indifferent voice came through the phone.

Her grip tightened. A trace of surprise crossed Winter’s face. “Chris…”

“Mr. Xander, Ms. Jasper is looking for you.”

His assistant spoke before she could say another word.

Then he said calmly, “I’ll hang up first.”

The line went dead.

On the deserted street corner under the glow of a streetlight, snowflakes drifted onto Winter’s hair as her thin frame shook slightly.

Suddenly, a warm coat was draped over her shoulders.

Winter was startled and looked up to see Sam Quinn, the editor-in-chief, standing there.

His heavy gaze swept over her from head to toe, anger burning in his eyes.

“Who did this to you?”

A puff of white breath escaped Winter’s lips as she shook her head.

“When they were beating me, I pulled out some of their hair. There’s skin under my nails too. Once the DNA is extracted, the police will catch them soon.”

Sam was stunned that she could remain so calm and take such precautions after being attacked. This was exactly why she was the person he admired most on his team.

“We’ll definitely investigate this thoroughly. It’s too late now. I’ll take you home.”

Since it was nearly impossible to find a taxi in that area, Winter forced a faint smile and got into his car.

“Thank you, Mr. Quinn.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re my reporter. Someone beats you up and I’m supposed to sit back and do nothing? Everyone else was out on assignment anyway. I was the only one left in the office,” he said as he turned the steering wheel.

As he drove, he continued casually, “Chris Xander’s ex-girlfriend just returned to the country. I heard he personally went to the airport to pick her up. Every newsroom is scrambling to get the first exclusive.”

Winter’s bloodshot eyes suddenly went still.

Her mind buzzed.

So while she was being beaten in that alley, desperately calling Chris for help, he was with another woman.

Sam didn't notice her expression darkening and kept going.

Winter looked down and pressed her blood-stained fingers into the raw wounds on the back of her hand.

No one knew that she was actually Chris Xander’s wife.

*

Winter did not let Sam drive her all the way to her door. She got out near a nearby residential complex and then took a taxi back to Blackwood Manor.

When she got home, she was changing her shoes in the entryway when the housekeeper heard the noise and came out. One look at her, and Mrs. Young froze in shock before rushing over.

“Ma’am, what happened? How did you end up like this?”

Mrs. Young stepped forward to support her and accidentally brushed against the injury on her arm. Winter showed no reaction at all. She looked numb, as if she felt nothing, with no light left in her eyes.

“I was attacked while working undercover,” she said lightly.

Winter spoke with total indifference, but Mrs. Young was horrified. She had always known that working as a social news reporter was dangerous, but she never imagined it could be this violent. It seemed Mrs. Xander Sr. had been right to suggest that Winter should quit her job.

Mrs. Young noticed Winter staring at the shoe cabinet and looked. Her face grew cautious as she spoke. “Mr. Xander hasn’t come back yet. I heard that Ms. Jasper returned to the country.”

Winter kept her head lowered. A few loose strands of hair covered half her face, hiding the look in her eyes. Even so, Mrs. Young could sense her sadness.

“Maybe it is just…” Mrs. Young began, trying to explain.

Winter stopped her with a small gesture. “I’m going upstairs to shower. Please bring the first-aid kit to my room.”

Watching her stagger upstairs, Mrs. Young let out a silent sigh. Still, she did as told and went to get the medical kit.

When she passed the master bedroom, she glanced inside. As expected, Winter was not there.

She was in the room next door.

Who would have thought that after three years of marriage, the couple still slept in separate rooms.

Steam filled the bathroom.

She stared at the mirror. Horrific bruises spread across her body in dark, angry patches. Winter’s lips trembled. Her stiff, spasming fingers clawed at her clothes, tearing them away and flinging them into the trash. It felt as if she had used up all her strength. Her legs gave out, and she slid down to the floor.

Soon, faint sobs could be heard from the bathroom. Mrs. Young listened closely, but all she could hear was the steady rush of running water.

After her shower, Winter refused Mrs. Young’s help with the medicine. She sat on the sofa, applied some ointment to her wounds without much care, and then lay down on the bed.

The moment she closed her eyes, images of the beating rushed back into her mind, along with the man’s twisted, cruel laughter.

Her bones ached faintly.

She turned over, pulled open the bedside drawer, and felt around until her fingers found a bottle at the very back. She opened it, poured out a pill, and tossed it into her mouth. Without any water, she swallowed it dry.

With the help of the sleeping pill, Winter soon fell asleep.

Even in sleep, her brow stayed tightly furrowed. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead. Her fingers clenched the corner of the blanket until they turned white, trembling uncontrollably.

“Help me…”

In the grip of a nightmare, her face was deathly pale and tears slid from her closed eyes, but there was no response in the dark, empty room.

*

Winter did not wake up until the following evening.

The bruises on her face had faded quite a bit, but her body still ached badly. When she got out of bed, she nearly fell to the floor.

Last night, it was sheer luck that a kind passerby had come by and shouted for the police. That was what finally made those people stop the beating and kept things from going any further. Otherwise, she probably would have ended up joining her parents in heaven.

Sam had given her a few days off and told her to stay home and rest properly.

As she went downstairs, she passed the master bedroom and paused at the doorway to glance inside.

The door was still open, just as it had been the night before.

She did not need to think about it to know that Chris had not come home.

Mrs. Young had prepared a warm compress for her. Winter sat on the sofa, pressing it gently against her face while scrolling through the news on her phone.

As expected of the man who controlled the Xander empire, the top headline was from the night before, yet it was still dominating the news.

In the photo, Chris’s silhouette was tall and commanding against the dark night. Even from behind, it was impossible to ignore the powerful aura he projected.

He was pushing a wheelchair, though only the upper back of the woman sitting in it was visible. It was Skyla Jasper.

Winter quietly closed the news article. Before she realized it, her hand tightened, and water from the warm compress spilled onto her clothes.

She lowered her head and looked at the damp stain spreading across her lap. Her brows knit slightly as her eyes slowly reddened.

Pathetic. It had been three years. How could she still not see where his heart really was?

She stood up, went back to her room to change, and then headed to the study, hoping to find a couple of books to distract herself.

Chris’s study was clean and orderly, with no unnecessary decoration. It was nothing like hers, which was filled with blind-box toys.

One of the desk drawers had been left open, and a window in the study was half ajar. The wind blew through, rustling the papers inside the drawer.

Winter watched as a single sheet of paper was blown onto the floor. She walked over to pick it up, intending to put it back, but her entire body froze the moment she saw what was inside the drawer.

Lying right there in front of her was a set of divorce papers.

Winter stared at the divorce agreement inside the drawer and felt as if she had been frozen in place.

Several thoughts flashed through her mind in an instant, and a chill crept up her spine.

Three years ago, she had only been able to marry Chris because Mrs. Xander Sr. had taken a liking to her. Winter had always known that Chris did not love her. He had agreed to the marriage only to secure his position within the Xander family. With Mrs. Xander Sr.’s support, it had been much easier for him to push forward his ambitions.

This marriage was something she had stolen.

She had willingly let herself fall deeper, hoping that one day Chris would come to love her.

She had overestimated herself. Even before the marriage, Chris had never been warm toward her. Afterward, they had lived like strangers under the same roof.

Divorce had always felt like a hidden time bomb in her marriage.

For three years, Chris had never mentioned it.

Now it had come without warning, catching her completely unprepared.

As for why it was happening now, she already knew the answer.

It was because Skyla had returned.

The bold words “Divorce Agreement” felt like nails driven straight into her heart. She could not bring herself to pick it up and read what was inside.

If she hadn't discovered it herself today, she wondered when Chris had planned on giving it to her.

She didn't know how long she stood there. She only snapped back to reality when the sound of a car engine drifted up from downstairs and she heard Mrs. Young respectfully greet Chris.

By the time she went downstairs, Chris had already entered the house.

Snow was falling outside. He casually handed his long black coat to his assistant. His custom-made black suit added an air of solemnity to his presence, making him look exceptionally tall and cold. As the powerful head of the Xander family, his aura was overwhelming.

He looked up at the sound of footsteps.

The rimless glasses sharpened his already composed appearance. Behind the lenses, his dark eyes were partially hidden, yet their quiet brilliance was impossible to miss. Beneath the calm exterior was a pull that was hard to resist.

Winter walked toward him without thinking.

They had not seen each other in thirteen days, and ever since she was forced to terminate the pregnancy after their child died in the womb a year ago, they had spoken less and less. The man standing before her now felt like a stranger.

Winter stopped in her tracks. The divorce agreement in the drawer flashed through her mind, and she opened her mouth, about to ask him about it.

His cool gaze swept over her face, and his brows drew together slightly.

“Grandma is sick. Come back to the family estate with me.”

His low voice carried a hint of chill.

After saying that, he turned and walked out.

The thought of Mrs. Xander Sr. being ill made Winter’s chest tighten. She no longer had the presence of mind to think about the divorce papers. She went back to her room, grabbed a coat and gloves, and carefully covered the injuries on the back of her hand.

When she hurried to the entrance, Chris was standing under the porch with his back to her.

He lowered his head to light a cigarette. Hearing her footsteps, he glanced to the side. The brief flare of the flame lit his eyes for a moment before they fell back into shadow.

He was Chris Xander, the most untouchable man in Liono City.

Even back in high school, people online had endlessly praised his looks and talent. The attention had caused a brief frenzy and even trended before the Xander family quietly shut it down.

Even during the two years when he had been blind, he had remained the object of countless women’s admiration.

A dull ache spread through Winter’s chest as she moved to get into the car.

As she passed him, her steps unconsciously quickened. Suddenly, he caught her by the arm.

Winter froze and looked up, meeting his gaze. It felt as if he could see straight through her.

His warm fingers lifted her chin.

She tried to turn away, but his grip tightened, as if he had already anticipated the movement. His thumb brushed slowly along the corner of her lips.

“How did you hurt your face?”

With nowhere to retreat, Winter could only lift her head slightly and meet his gaze.

She didn’t know what kind of ointment Mrs. Young had used, but when she woke up that morning, the bruising on her face had already faded significantly. After using a warm compress that evening, it was almost impossible to see. Even Mrs. Young had been surprised, saying she looked nothing like she had the night before.

The marks were barely there now.

So how had he noticed?

A dull ache spread through Winter’s chest.

“I tripped while I was working yesterday.”

There was no point in telling him about the assault now. She didn’t realize it, but her voice still carried a trace of bitterness.

Her tone clearly displeased Chris. He rubbed at the corner of her lip with a bit more pressure and gave a short, dry laugh.

“You're not a child anymore.”

The car door closed, and warm air from the heater wrapped around Winter, slowly driving away the chill that had settled deep into her bones.

The car pulled away from Blackwood Manor and headed toward the Xander estate.

The moment Chris got into the car, he began handling work on his laptop.

“Were you in the study just now?”

His clear, low voice sounded beside her.

Winter’s chest tightened. She looked at Chris, who had not once lifted his eyes from the screen. The question sounded casual, as if he had asked it without much thought.

He must have noticed the light on in the study when he got out of the car.

The study was usually handled by his assistant, and Mrs. Young was never allowed inside. At that hour, the only person who could have been there was her.

And after seeing the divorce agreement, she had completely forgotten why she had gone into the study in the first place.

“Yes. I went to look for a book but I couldn’t find anything I wanted to read.”

Her mind was preoccupied with Mrs. Xander Sr.’s health. She leaned against the car window, restless and distracted, as the car continued toward the Xander estate.

When Winter was seven years old, both her parents had died. Because of the long-standing ties between the Scott and Xander families, the kind-hearted Mrs. Xander Sr. had taken her in and raised her. In the Xander family, the person who loved her most was Mrs. Xander Sr.

The first snow in Liono City had come suddenly. Mrs. Xander Sr. had caught a chill and come down with a cold.

When Winter entered the room, members of the Xander family, along with doctors, the butler, and servants, were all crowded around, coaxing Mrs. Xander Sr. to take her medicine. Mrs. Xander Sr. clenched her teeth and stubbornly refused to open her mouth.

The moment she saw Winter, it was as if she had found a savior.

“Winter! They’re trying to hurt me!”

“Grandma.” Winter walked over quickly and took Mrs. Xander Sr.’s hand. She sat on the edge of the bed and said gently, “Who would dare hurt you while I'm here? I’d knock them all down. Now, be good and let’s take the medicine. I'll feed it to you, okay?”

Mrs. Xander Sr.’s eyes reddened with grievance, but she still listened and obediently took the medicine.

Everyone let out a sigh of relief.

As expected, Winter could coax her like this.

Chris stood off to the side, sweeping a deep, unreadable gaze over Winter’s smiling face.

“It’s so bitter!” Mrs. Xander Sr.’s face scrunched up in protest.

“The medicine may be bitter, but it will help you feel better,” Winter said, coaxing her gently before offering her some water.

Seeing the aggrieved look on Mrs. Xander Sr.’s face, Winter squeezed her hand and gave it a small shake.

“All right, all right. You said it was too bitter, didn’t you? Before I came upstairs, I asked them to make you some warm honey water, with just a little sweetness. I will go get it for you, okay?”

Mrs. Xander Sr. was comforted at once.

When Winter brought the prepared drink back upstairs and was just about to go in.

“Yesterday’s news certainly made waves,” Mrs. Xander Sr. said from inside the room. “As expected of you. You never do anything quietly.”

Winter stopped in her tracks.

Chris replied in an indifferent tone.

“Grandma, there’s no need for sarcasm. You should be careful not to upset yourself.”

“Winter is your wife,” Mrs. Xander Sr. snapped. “The Xanders may owe that girl from the Jasper family, but Winter doesn’t owe her anything. She doesn’t owe you either. If you dare mistreat Winter for her sake, I won’t let it go.”

Winter’s fingers tightened, the chill seeping straight into her bones.

The sound of servants coming upstairs broke her concentration. She didn’t hear what Chris said next.

She only heard Mrs. Xander Sr. say, “You and Winter need to have a child soon. Once you do, everything you want will be yours.”

A child.

A sharp, piercing pain instantly radiated through Winter’s body, spreading to every limb.

On a late spring night last year, a drunken Chris had stumbled into her room by mistake. She could never forget how, in the heat of the moment, he had pressed against her ear and whispered her name.

She became pregnant with his child that very night.

After that, their relationship underwent a subtle shift. Although he still rarely came home, he hired a nutritionist specifically to oversee her daily meals. She truly believed that was the beginning of her happily ever after.

But last winter, when she was already eight months along, the baby’s heartbeat suddenly stopped. The fetus died in her womb, and she was forced to undergo a termination.

Afraid she would be devastated, the medical staff would not let her see the baby even once.

She never got to say goodbye. She never got to touch his tiny hand.

During that time, no one dared to mention the word “child” in front of her. It became a forbidden place in her heart.

Now, hearing it again, she felt as though she had been plunged into ice.

Soft footsteps sounded on the stairs. A servant came up from downstairs.

“Mrs. Xander.”

Winter snapped back to herself. She wiped at her reddened eyes, steadied the tray in her hands, and stepped into the room.

The conversation inside stopped abruptly. The moment Mrs. Xander Sr. saw Winter, her brows knit with pain and regret.

If she had known Winter was upstairs, she never would have brought up the child.

She immediately turned to Chris, hoping he would go to her, but Chris stood there like a block of ice. He gave Winter a casual glance before turning to leave the room.

*

After Mrs. Xander Sr. had fallen asleep, Winter checked her temperature again and made sure the fever had gone down before leaving the room.

That night, Mrs. Xander Sr. insisted that Winter and Chris stay at the Xander estate. She even had the butler, Mr. White, personally escort Winter back to the guesthouse that had once been prepared as their marital home.

The house stood on its own within the Xander estate, a separate building meant for the couple alone.

Winter had no idea where Chris had gone. After leaving Mrs. Xander Sr.’s room earlier, he had disappeared completely.

He had never been one to follow orders. Now that he was firmly in control and no longer needed anyone’s approval, he certainly did not have to listen to the family. It was entirely possible that he had already left the estate.

When she reached the bedroom door, Winter glanced back at Mr. White, who was pulling his phone from his pocket. She let out a quiet sigh.

“Mr. White, you should go get some rest.”

“I can’t, Mrs. Xander,” he said apologetically. “Mrs. Xander Sr. asked me to take photos as proof.”

Mr. White used to address her as Ms. Scott. After she married Chris, even though Chris had never openly acknowledged her as his wife, Mrs. Xander Sr. had made it clear that everyone in the household was to address her properly as Mrs. Xander.

It was obvious that Mrs. Xander Sr. wasn’t reassured at all.

Winter did not know what else to say. She stood at the door, completely drained, and let Mr. White take a couple of photos.

Mr. White nodded with satisfaction at the pictures.

“That will do. I can report back now. Mrs. Xander, please get some rest.”

As he walked away, Winter breathed a sigh of relief. At least Chris wasn't there. She would have the room to herself.

As soon as she closed the door, Winter leaned against it and bent forward, clutching her right leg as pain made it tremble.

She had almost failed to hold it together.

Last night, the man had kicked her right leg hard. Three times. With that kind of force, two more kicks would have crippled her.

Once the police caught them, she would make sure he paid for it.

“Are you waiting for me to come over and carry you?”

A man’s cool voice suddenly broke the silence of the dim room.

Winter jumped in shock. She had not even had time to turn on the lights. She looked toward the sound, and a blurred figure gradually came into focus. A flash of light glinted off a pair of lenses.

Chris stood by the open window, leaning against the sill, a cigarette between his fingers.

Winter looked at him, emotions tangled and unreadable.

So he had not left after all.

He had come back to the room before she did.

It seemed they would be staying here together tonight.

If this had been the past, Winter would have felt flustered, her heart racing with shy anticipation.

But the image of the divorce agreement in the desk drawer flashed through her mind, along with Skyla’s return. Whatever expectations she once had vanished completely.

She did not bother turning on the light. Enduring the pain in her right leg, she walked toward the sofa.

Forget it. She would just make do on the sofa for the night. Once morning came, everything would be fine.

Before she could even reach it, a sudden force yanked her sideways. She lost her balance and fell straight into a broad, warm chest.

Before she could struggle free, the arm around her waist tightened abruptly.

Chris’s warm, damp breath brushed against her ear as he kissed her, sending an instinctive shiver through her body.

This was the first time Chris had touched her since last spring.

In a dizzy blur, she was pressed down onto the sofa. His body blocked out the light, his heat enclosing her completely.

The lingering, heated kisses left her with no strength to resist.

“Grandma said we should have a child.”

The words hit her like a bucket of cold water.

Winter thought of the divorce agreement in the study drawer, then of what Mrs. Xander Sr. had just said. She turned her face away from his lips and looked straight into his eyes, eyes that seemed made to ensnare people.

Her throat felt as though it were being pricked by countless needles.

“Do you actually want a child, or do you just want whatever Grandma promised you in return?”

Chris seized both her wrists and pinned them above her head. With one hand, he removed his glasses. Without the lenses to soften his gaze, his eyes turned cold and sharp, like those of a predator.

This was the real Chris Xander.

“What difference does it make?” he said calmly. “When you insisted on marrying me back then, you should have been prepared for this.”

Winter’s face drained of color.

“Don’t you agree?” he whispered. “Winter.”

The tenderness in his voice only made the pain sink deeper into her bones.

A name spoken without love, steeped in mockery, felt like slow torture to her.

Chris knew exactly where to strike to hurt her the most.

He gave a low, mocking laugh and leaned down, easily stripping her of the last of her strength.

As her clothes were pulled open, Winter’s body jerked violently.

Her mind instinctively replayed the scene from the night before, when she had been beaten. If not for a kind passerby, her clothes would have been torn apart then too.

In that moment, she could no longer tell whether the man in front of her was Chris, or the men who had attacked her.

“Don’t!”

Like a cornered animal, she bit down hard on his neck.

In the dim light, Chris hissed in pain.

“So you’ve grown bold enough to bite now?” Chris sneered. His large hand clamped onto her jaw as he yanked off his tie, moving to bind her struggling wrists.

Suddenly, a phone rang sharply in the room.

A cold blue glow lit up the darkness.

The phone on the coffee table vibrated, slowly shifting its position. The caller ID came clearly into Winter’s view.

Skyla.

It was Skyla Jasper.

Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Winter scrambled out from under him. Trembling, she pulled her clothes together, covering the large, dark bruises left from the beating the night before.

Dragging her injured right leg, she curled up in the corner of the sofa.

At that moment, the lamp beside the sofa snapped on.

Chris stood there, his tie hanging loose around his collar, two buttons of his shirt torn open. His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed.

The phone was still ringing.

Winter’s face was deathly pale, making her reddened eyes stand out even more. She looked at him with open mockery.

She said coldly, “Your precious sweetheart is calling. Aren’t you going to answer?”