Sabrina's Point-of-View

After Micah returned from the clinic, I took the divorce agreement and headed straight to his office on Raventon Street.

"Ms. Slater, Mr. Benson is reviewing data right now. He's not available," his executive assistant, Halbert Burke, said, stepping in front of me.

Reviewing data?

I followed his gaze to the narrow gap in the glass door. But what floated through the small gap wasn't the voice of an analyst delivering a financial briefing—it was the soft, rhythmic beeping of a monitor.

Inside what was supposed to be one of the most secure offices in the world, the screen wasn't displaying figures for market trends. It was monitoring Rowena's heartbeat in real time.

A man who could strike down a 10-billion-dollar investment without so much as a flicker of emotion was now staring at a medical monitor, his face taut with panic. How ridiculous!

I still remembered how, during the early days of our marriage, I had once cut my finger on the edge of a folder while delivering documents to him. Blood had beaded on my fingertip.

Upon seeing it, Micah had thrown his pen across the room without hesitation.

"Sabrina, I hate any form of imperfection," he said coldly as he grabbed my wrist. "Clean it up. Don't let me see it again."

From that day on, I wore double-layered gloves even when pruning the thorns off roses.

"Ms. Slater…" Halbert's voice pulled me out of the past.

I let out a bitter laugh and said, "It's fine. When he's free, just have him sign this."

Halbert nodded, took the file from my hand, and disappeared into the office.

I thought I would have to wait at least a few minutes. Surely, he would finish watching Rowena's heartbeat on the monitor before giving me even a sliver of his attention.

But less than 30 seconds later, the door opened, and Halbert handed the file back to me. Micah's signature was already on the final page.

He hadn't even looked at it.

My fingers tightened around the divorce agreement as my chest tightened.

Since I was 15, I had known that I would marry Micah. He was the emotionless king of a business empire—cold, untouchable, and incapable of loving anyone. Yet I naively believed that if I became perfect enough, I could be the exception.

But it turned out that place was already reserved for someone else.

Now, with a few strokes of a pen, he had turned all my foolish hopes into a joke.

When I returned to the penthouse overlooking all of Ashbourne City, I asked the maid, Simona Reynolds, to take Micah's and my wedding portrait down.

"But Mrs. Benson… that painting's your favorite. You had one of the most celebrated artists in Edevia make it…"

She was right. I once saw that painting as proof that I had tamed the cold-blooded man—that I had trapped him in a photo frame and made him my husband.

But I had forgotten that it wasn't easy to change someone's nature. Micah hadn't changed; he had only been lying low for a while.

"Burn it, Simona. There's no need to leave it around lest it bother his new muse," I said lightly.

Sabrina's Point-of-View

There were still seven days left before the cooling-off period for the divorce ended. During that time, Micah hadn't returned to the penthouse even once.

That night, I wandered aimlessly and found myself in a quiet bookstore. To my surprise, I spotted Rowena inside, packing up her belongings.

She was still wearing that faded button-down shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, revealing the cut on her arm that hadn't fully healed.

Suddenly, she looked up and saw me. Her eyes lit up as she hurried over.

"Thank you for helping me when I got injured that day. My boyfriend wants to treat you to dinner."

In my past life, Micah once said that Rowena was different from the women who chased his wealth—that her eyes were clear and untouched, like a blank sheet of paper.

I used to think that was laughable. But now, meeting her clear, sincere gaze, I couldn't find a single word to argue back.

"That's not necessary. I was just passing by," I said, brushing it off.

I pulled her gently into the cafe next door. As soon as we sat down, her eyes suddenly turned red.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

She looked down, tears slipping past her lashes. "I think I'm pregnant. But he's been avoiding me these past few days. Do you think he doesn't want the baby?"

So they had already slept together.

I should have expected it, but the truth still hit me hard. It felt like a cold hand had wrapped around my heart, squeezing it.

I had once foolishly hoped that Micah's obsession with her was just a phase and that he would grow tired and eventually return to me.

But it seemed I had just been deluding myself.

"Do you think he's seeing someone else?"

That single question sent a chill down my spine.

If she found out that Micah had a wife, given her kind nature, she would surely walk away. And knowing what kind of man he was, he would unleash his full wrath on me—and on my sister, Roberta Slater.

In my past life, when Roberta got into a car accident, Micah was the first to get the call. But he stopped the doctors from trying to save her.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I forced myself to stay calm.

"No. Don't overthink it," I told her softly.

After comforting her, I made up an excuse and stepped away to the restroom. Then, I pulled out my phone and called Denton.

"Move Roberta's flight to Valebrook up to tonight. Get her a ticket on the next flight out, and tell her to head to the airport—now."

The moment I hung up, I called Roberta. Her voice came through the speaker, warm and familiar—yet it made my body go rigid.

"Rina, did you and Micah have a fight?" she asked.

I wanted to tell her the truth—that in our past life, she died. As for me, Micah broke my legs, leaving me crippled for life, and had me locked in a psychiatric hospital.

He wouldn't allow anyone to threaten the life he built with Rowena.

The memories swirled violently in my mind. I bit down hard on my lip to keep myself from crying.

"Rina, no matter what you do, I'm always on your side. We're all we have," Roberta said.

Her voice was full of warmth, and somehow, that made me even more afraid.

I was terrified that Micah would find out she was leaving, then lose control like he did in the past and try to stop her.

Terrified that this call was being monitored.

Terrified that all my plans would fall apart.

And more than anything, I was terrified Roberta wouldn't get away fast enough and that he would catch her again.

"I love you, Berta. Wait for me. We'll be together soon."

Sabrina's Point-of-View

I ended the call and returned to the cafe, only to find Rowena surrounded by a group of local thugs.

"Mr. Benson sent us to pick you up! Time to come with us." One of them sneered as their eyes raked all over her.

Rowena stepped back in fear, signing frantically, "I don't know who you are!"

"Cut the act. He told us to take real good care of you."

As one of them reached out to grab her arm, I didn't hesitate—I snatched a plate from the table beside me and smashed it over his head.

"Back off!"

As the plate shattered, blood spilled down the side of his face. He staggered back and turned to me with fury blazing in his eyes.

"You'll pay for that. Break her!"

Several of the men lunged at me, and within seconds, I was pinned down on the table. The back of my head struck the corner with a thud, and my vision went black.

"You shouldn't have messed with Mr. Benson's business. You'll learn your lesson now."

One of them picked up a metal rod and swung it hard at my arm.

A sharp crack sounded as my bone snapped.

The thug tossed the rod aside like garbage and reached for Rowena. "Take the woman back. As for this one—beat her until she stops breathing."

"No—don't touch her!"

I thought of Roberta's death in my past life, and for a moment, I couldn't even feel the pain. I fought to shield Rowena, but someone kicked me hard in the stomach. Blood burst from my mouth, splattering across the table.

"Damn. She's got fight in her. I like it." One of them laughed cruelly.

Rowena's face had gone pale with terror. She tried to get to me, but they shoved her to the floor.

One thug grabbed her by the wrist and started dragging her away. She clung to the table leg, refusing to let go.

That was when we heard the sharp screech of tires tearing through the night.

The door slammed open, and Micah stepped in. His expression was cold and unreadable, but when his eyes landed on the thugs, fury surged beneath the surface.

Without saying a word, he strode to Rowena and pulled her into his arms. "You're safe now. I'm here."

Rowena clung to his jacket, trembling. She tried to speak, but before she could, a team of black-suited bodyguards stormed inside and pinned the thugs to the floor.

"Get Rowena to the car. She doesn't need to see this filth," he ordered.

As she was led out, she turned and looked at me, her eyes wide with fear.

The thugs trembled, their faces draining of all color. One of them dropped to his knees and started slamming his forehead against the ground.

"Mr. Benson, please! We didn't know! We didn't recognize her."

But Micah didn't even glance at him. He stepped right over the thug's hand and walked straight toward me.

Just when I thought he might at least show a flicker of concern, he drove his heel straight into my broken arm.

"Who told you to touch her?"

So he thought I had set this up and tried to hurt the woman he loved.

"Micah… they were the ones after her… not me…"

He pressed down harder, and the sheer agony of having my bones shattered nearly knocked me out.

"I don't care for your explanations."

He turned his icy stare to the thugs. "Talk."

One of them pointed at me without hesitation. "It was her, Mr. Benson! She paid us to grab Rowena. Said if we got her out of the way, she would hand over the dock business to us!"

"You're lying!" I shouted, stunned and breathless. I had no idea why they would say something so insane.

The next second, Micah crouched beside me and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. "You never learn to behave, do you, Sabrina?"

Then, he turned to the men behind him. "Drag her to the back warehouse. Break her legs."

He always believed what he wanted to, crushing my loyalty like it meant nothing.

"Micah, I'm your wife!"

"Don't worry, Mr. Benson. We'll make sure she never meddles in your business again."

The thugs immediately swarmed me. One of them yanked my hair and dragged me across the floor toward the back warehouse.

"You bastard! You heartless bastard!" I screamed after Micah, but he didn't even turn around and just walked away.

In that moment, I almost wished they would kill me outright so I wouldn't have to wait for the end of the cooling-off period or see his cold, detached face ever again.

"This one's got a spine," one of them muttered right before the pain hit me again.

Through the agony, a memory flashed in my mind. The night Micah and I got engaged, he had leaned in close and said, "Sabrina, remember your place. Don't cause me problems, or you'll regret it."

He had warned me. And I had been foolish enough to mistake it for concern.

It wasn't until after midnight that one of the bodyguards outside finally stepped into the warehouse.

"Mr. Benson says to keep her alive."

Before they left, one of the thugs kicked me hard in the ribs. "Next time, mind your damn business."

Once the place was finally empty, I lay on the ground, barely able to move. Reaching for my phone with shaking hands, I called Denton.

"Move the plan up, and wipe every trace of my identity now. I want to make sure Micah never finds me."