Valentina braced herself, expecting a long wait before anyone answered her call. But the line had already connected on the first ring.

“Valentina,” a voice came, low and sharp as a knife, “don’t think you’re playing games with me.”

She didn’t speak.

“I’ve been hunting you for as long as you pined after Desmond,” he continued, each word edged with steel. “Seven years, cold as ice, and now suddenly… you’re surrendering? What changed?”

Rafael Leon. Her old flame. One of North Carolina’s most feared and respected operators.

He had pursued her relentlessly for seven long years. She had almost given herself to him once. But on the night she was supposed to choose, Desmond—Don Desmond Hackett—had offered her a glimmer of hope.

And so, she had turned her back on Rafael.

Faced with his questions, Valentina inhaled deeply. “I… I wasn’t thinking straight. Forget I even called.”

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the speaker—something heavy had hit the floor.

“You think I’m someone you call when bored and drop when it suits you?” His voice cracked like a gunshot. “Huh, Valentina? You chose me this time. Don’t you dare try to run.”

“I’m giving you one month,” he continued, the threat plain in every syllable. “Take care of that bastard. After that… I’m coming for what’s mine.”

Rafael didn’t give her a chance to protest. The line went dead with a single click.

A faint, wry smile tugged at her lips. Some things never change, she thought.

That night, Don Desmond didn’t return to the estate. Valentina passed the hours in silence, moving through the villa like a ghost—sorting closets, folding garments, tucking away gifts into boxes. When the morning sun spilled through the windows, the front door finally opened.

He stepped in, shirt still rumpled from the night before. “What are you tossing out?”

She flinched ever so slightly, then composed herself, brushing her hair back. “Just… some junk.”

He strode over, peering into a box crammed with clothes and past presents he had given her.

“You call these… junk?”

“Old gifts, old clothes,” she replied lightly. “They take up space. I thought I’d donate them in your name—some kids up in the mountains could use them. Might polish your reputation a bit, too.”

At that, Desmond’s thin lips curved slightly, a ghost of a smile. “Smart move.”

She exhaled softly, relieved that he believed her story. But she knew better. It wasn’t trust—he simply didn’t care to waste more energy on her.

Suddenly, a crash behind her cut through the room. She spun around, and there was her sister.

Selene. Wide-eyed, standing over a shattered sculpture. Her smile was innocently mischievous, the sort that could ensnare anyone.

“Oops… sorry, Mondy, Avy. Didn’t mean to,” Selene murmured.

Desmond didn’t even flinch at the broken pieces. He brushed past Valentina, checking her sister for injuries.

Seeing her unhurt, the storm in his eyes softened. “It’s fine. Nothing matters more than you.”

But Selene wasn’t satisfied. She turned her gaze to Valentina, tilting her head with faux innocence. “You don’t mind, right, Avy?”

Valentina’s eyes dropped to the floor.

The sculpture had been unique—commissioned after a trip, carved with the faces of both her and Desmond. Now, all that remained were fragments.

If this had happened years ago, she would have lashed out, sharp words flying. Now, she simply looked up and said, “It’s alright.”

A flicker crossed Selene’s face—gone almost immediately. She smiled sweetly. “Aww, you’re really kind.”

Then, without hesitation, she turned to Desmond. “With a sister like that, I’m sure she won’t mind my next little favor either.”

He didn’t glance at Valentina as he spoke.

“Yannie’s just returned to North Carolina. Her parents are away, and she doesn’t like staying home alone. In the meantime… let her live here.

“Oh, and—your room gets the morning sun. She’s always been sensitive to the cold. Make sure she has it.”

Even after three years bound in marriage by blood oath and ceremony, they didn’t always share the same bed.

Don Desmond had claimed he preferred solitude at night.

Valentina understood—it wasn’t just anyone he didn’t want beside him. It was her.

She also knew how careful he’d always been with Selene. The Don had probably rehearsed a long, smooth explanation for her presence, but when Valentina didn’t resist, didn’t argue, it caught him off guard.

“Alright,” she said softly, almost casually. “Most of my things are in that room anyway. I’ll take them all out myself.”

In truth, it made no difference whether she removed her belongings now or later.

The instant she mentioned moving her things, Desmond’s lips parted slightly, a protest almost forming. But before a word could leave, Selene stepped in.

“Thanks, Avy.”

Valentina didn’t reply. She bent to haul a heavy box toward the stairs, her thin arms straining under the weight.

There was far too much crammed inside. Her foot slid on a shard of glass hidden in the shadows, and she tumbled hard. Her knee smashed the floor, shards cutting into her skin.

Pain flared like fire up her leg and into her spine. Beads of sweat dotted her back. She bit her lip to keep silent, gritting her teeth through it.

But Don Desmond didn’t see. Selene had already pulled him away.

Valentina stayed there, trembling as the pain sank deeper. Tears welled and fell, one by one, onto the cold tiles.

In the Marwood mansion, Desmond would never have let Selene lift even a handbag.

“Our Yannie is our princess,” he’d say, voice warm and indulgent. “She deserves nothing but care.”

Yet when Valentina—the maid’s daughter turned wife of the richest man in the city—bore the same weight, no one blinked. No one cared if she got hurt.

Still, everyone sided with Selene. Unquestioningly. Without hesitation.

Valentina had learned to accept it.

The afternoon crawled by as she sorted through her things. By sunset, every item was loaded onto a waiting truck.

“You didn’t need to throw so much away,” Desmond said, frowning as he watched. “Yannie’s only here temporarily. When she leaves, you’ll move back. What’s the point?”

She didn’t flinch. “They’re old,” she replied evenly. “Time to let them go.”

“You’ve never been wasteful.”

No, she hadn’t. She’d never known a life of ease. Every possession she owned had been earned, cherished, made to last.

She only smiled. “They’ve been with me a long time. Sometimes, you need space. Out with the old, right?”

Just like people, she thought.

Her reasoning sounded fair enough. If Desmond pressed further, he’d look petty—so he let it slide.

“There’s an auction tonight,” he said, shifting the topic. “The organizers invited me. You’ll attend. With Yannie.”

She opened her mouth to refuse. He cut her off.

“You’re my secretary,” he reminded her coldly. “I can’t appear at that kind of gathering without one.”

She looked at him, countless words clinging to her throat—And bringing Selene is acceptable?—but none escaped. She only nodded. One final obligation before she walked away forever.

Night fell. Inside the grand hall, chandeliers cast light like noon over the polished floors.

Every important figure in the city’s underworld was present—polished, practiced, dangerous.

The Hacketts had risen fast over the last two years. Jade, the hostess, came out quickly, her expression polite.

“Don Hackett. Your seat is ready. Right this way.”

Jade gestured to a pair of chairs. “I heard you married? The second seat is for your wife.”

For a heartbeat, everyone froze.

The Don’s marriage had always been secret, hidden behind careful walls. No one was supposed to know.

Valentina turned to him, waiting. Two women. One extra seat.

His choice wasn’t unexpected.

“I’m not married,” Desmond said smoothly. “Not sure where that rumor came from.”

The hostess blinked, confused. “And these two?”

He stepped forward, taking Selene’s hand first.

“This is Selene, daughter of S. Marwood Co.’s CEO.”

“Ah… Selene Marwood,” Jade said, nodding politely.

Then, almost reluctantly, Desmond added, “And the one beside you is my secretary.”

Valentina didn’t flinch. She had anticipated this introduction. But knowing the truth didn’t dull the sharp sting in her chest.

Still, she held herself tall, swallowing the hurt and preserving her dignity.

Desmond and Selene took their seats while Valentina lingered behind them, standing.

Maybe it was the chill in the hall. Maybe it was everything. But a stabbing pain hit her lower abdomen, sharp and insistent.

She pressed a hand to her belly and slipped away toward the restroom—silent, like a shadow fleeing from the spotlight.

She hadn’t even started her cycle—so why did the pain hit her like a bullet all of a sudden?

Valentina rose, intending to leave, but the door wouldn’t budge. Locked from the outside.

Then came Selene’s smug, venomous voice from beyond the door.

“Well, well… how’s the cast-off love treating you tonight?”

“Don Desmond has always been mine,” Selene spat, each word dripping with arrogance. “From the very start. Now that I’m back, you’d better get out of our way.

“And really… showing up tonight? Trying to steal my spotlight?”

Valentina doubled over, clutching her stomach. Cold sweat ran down her temple. Her voice was weak, but it held defiance.

“Selene… if you want him, take him. I’m done with caring about him.”

A cruel, icy laugh echoed through the door. “Oh, that’s rich. You think I’d buy that?

“You stole my mother’s attention once, and now you want to steal my man too? Who the hell do you think you are?

“You’re staying in here tonight. No one’s coming to rescue you.”

With a smirk, Selene dragged a “Restricted Area—Do Not Enter” sign and planted it by the door.

The auction’s rules forbade phones in certain rooms, and no one but Selene would dare enter this way.

Wracked with pain, Valentina slid to the floor, her back against the cold wall. Strength slipping fast, she pounded the door, gasping out desperate cries.

“Help… someone… anyone… please…”

But passersby saw the warning sign and ignored her. No one came.

She didn’t know how long she screamed before the agony swallowed her, and darkness claimed her.

When the auction finally ended and Valentina had not appeared, Don Desmond frowned, a crease forming on his brow.

Selene looked up, feigning innocence. “Mondy… maybe she’s upset because I took her seat?

“If I knew she’d get so sensitive, I never would’ve taken it.”

Desmond’s gaze hardened. “You’re the legitimate heir of the Marwoods. Do you think it’s right for a secretary to take your place?

“Forget it. Let her stew. She’s gotten a little too proud lately. Let’s go home.”

Out of sight, Selene’s lips curved in triumph. Valentina… I told you—you can’t beat me. Not my mother, not my lover.

That night, Valentina didn’t return to the estate. And not once did Don Desmond ask after her.

The next morning, during routine cleaning, a janitor unlocked the restroom door.

There she was—huddled in a corner, soaked through, trembling even half-conscious from the night’s cold.

The woman rushed to her side. “Ma’am… how did you get locked in here? You don’t look well. Should I call an ambulance?”

Valentina’s wet lashes flickered open. She pressed her arms against the floor and forced herself up.

“Thank you… but no need.”

The ache in her belly had eased, but the chill of the restroom had been relentless.

She had truly expected Don Desmond to check on her at least once. Clearly, she had misjudged.

She remembered the time Selene vanished for a mere ten minutes—Desmond had nearly dialed 911 in a panic.

And yet… after a whole night of her absence, he hadn’t lifted a finger to find his wife.

So this is what it means, Valentina thought bitterly, love versus indifference.

Leaning against the wall for support, she stepped out slowly, one foot at a time, and hailed a cab home.

Once in the car, she retrieved her phone.

Not a single message from Desmond.

Instead… multiple texts from Rafael.

[Valentina… I can’t wait a month. One week. I’m coming for you in seven days.]