Biting her lip, Daniela threw herself into his arms, blushing as she playfully hit his chest.

Michael chuckled and apologized, blaming everything on himself—yet his eyes subtly shifted, watching my reaction.

But when he saw that I wasn't angry at all, the same restlessness he’d felt back in the hospital room crept back into his chest, inexplicably heavy.

“Ashlyn,” he said coldly, “you’ve been glued to your phone ever since you got in the car.”

His voice carried a note of jealousy.

“Chatting with your cousin? Or someone else I don’t know?”

I had just finished booking my plane ticket and locked my phone screen.

“Just reading the news,” I replied calmly.

But rather than easing his mood, my answer only deepened the frown between his brows.

Catching me off guard, he snatched the phone from my hand.

“What’s your password?” he demanded.

“My birthday,” I said.

Nine years of marriage.

A six-digit password that simple—and yet, he still failed to unlock my phone before it locked itself from too many incorrect attempts.

The rest of the ride passed in silence.

When we arrived at the house, Michael immediately helped Daniela—who was suffering from pregnancy nausea—into the master bedroom with a look of deep concern.

Then he instructed the cook to prepare all her favorite dishes.

Coming back downstairs, he caught a glimpse of me walking alone toward the guest room. Something about my lonely silhouette made him pause.

After a moment’s thought, he said to the cook,

“Prepare a couple of Ashlyn’s usual dishes too. Set the table for three tonight.”

In the guest room, I opened my suitcase—only to find all my clothes had been slashed to ribbons.

Thankfully, my passport and important documents tucked deep inside were untouched.

Just as I gathered everything and turned to leave, I found Daniela blocking the door.

She held a black bottle in her hand, eyeing me with scorn as she scanned me from head to toe.

“Wow, Ashlyn. You’ve got some nerve,” she sneered.

“Even after I waltzed in here and made you the laughingstock of the whole upper circle, you’re still shamelessly clinging to the Hudson family like some parasite.”

“Oh right, your grandma died last month, didn’t she?” Her tone was syrupy and cruel.

“Now that your precious old woman’s gone, I guess you’ve got no one left to rely on. Well, it makes sense you’d cling to Michael like he’s your last lifeline.”

She suddenly remembered something, laughing as she brought her phone screen up to my face.

“Oh right, remember the day you begged Michael to fly a helicopter to take you to the hospital to see your grandma one last time?”

“Wanna know why he didn’t take you?”

“Because he had promised to take me to the beach to watch the sunset. Look, the photo of us kissing on my phone screen was taken during that moment.”

Unable to endure it any longer, I slapped the phone out of her hand and grabbed her by the throat.

The black bottle in her hand slipped and fell.

The sharp, acrid stench of gasoline instantly filled the air.

In chaos, Daniela hastily lit the gasoline on the floor.

Thick smoke filled the air, and flames erupted violently.

Having just been discharged from the hospital, I quickly succumbed to the fumes, my body growing weak as I collapsed to the ground.

Through the haze, I heard Michael's voice—

“Ashlyn!”

Then came the sounds of servants trying to stop him.

“Sir, it’s too dangerous! Please wait for the fire extinguishers—”

“Move! Ashlyn is still inside!”

In the end, he ignored their warnings and rushed into the flames.

What he didn’t expect… was to find Daniela inside too.

“Michael... help...”

She hadn’t even finished her sentence before he scooped her up in his arms—never once glancing at me.

Without hesitation, he turned and walked away.

—

Thirty minutes later. After calming Daniela down, he searched the entire house, but I was nowhere to be found.

Late that night, at the airport.

After mailing a package, I boarded a flight to the UK, coughing as I made my way down the aisle.

Just before the plane took off, my phone buzzed with a text from Michael.

[I don’t have time to play hide-and-seek with you.]

[Daniela has a prenatal check-up tomorrow at 10 a.m. Come with her, and get your lungs checked too.]

I didn’t reply. Instead, I removed the SIM card and powered off my phone.

'Michael—from this day forward, you and I are done. We will never see each other again.'

—

The next day, at the hospital—

“Michael, is our baby okay?”

Meeting Daniela’s pitiful, anxious eyes, Michael immediately pulled her into his arms, speaking to her in a soft, reassuring voice.

“The doctor said the baby is perfectly healthy—no signs of trauma from what happened yesterday.”

"That’s such a relief," she breathed out, her voice trembling slightly.

"I saw how serious and quiet you have been ever since we arrived at the hospital. I thought something was wrong with the baby."

Her unintentional comment made Michael pause.

An uncontrollable image surfaced in his mind—standing amidst roaring flames, Ashlyn stared back at him with eyes as cold as ice.

Frowning, he reopened his inbox. However, there was still no reply. Not even a word from her.

It annoyed him. No—it infuriated him.

After all, no matter how cold or neglectful he’d been in the past, Ashlyn had always come when he called—always giving in.

But now? Now she had the nerve to ignore him?!

He let out a bitter, humorless laugh.

Silently, he escorted Daniela out of the OB-GYN wing, took her out for lunch, made sure she got home safely—and only then headed to the office.

The moment he stepped into his office, a male assistant approached him with news.

“Sir, Old Master Hudson has returned to the country. He’s called an emergency meeting with all upper management in Conference Room One.”

Without much reaction, Michael turned and began walking toward the meeting room.

As he walked, he instructed casually, “Buy a few of the latest luxury handbags and trendy jewelry pieces.”

The assistant nodded eagerly.

“Of course, Mr. Hudson. I’ll have someone send them to Miss Daniela’s residence right away.”

Michael paused, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Send them to the Roberts family’s old estate.”

In his mind, after leaving the villa, Ashlyn couldn’t possibly have anywhere else to stay except the Roberts family home.

—

One week later, late at night.

After finally wrapping up a major project, Michael returned home.

He walked into the living room, only to see a slender, graceful figure curled up on the sofa in a silk nightgown, like a little shrimp.

“Ashlyn, how many times have I told you, when I’m done working, I’ll come back. There’s no need for you to keep—”

His voice trailed off as he got closer and realized—it wasn’t Ashlyn.

It was Daniela.

His mocking tone immediately vanished.

Being stared at with such cold indifference, Daniela shivered. She looked pitiful and wronged, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Michael... Ashlyn hasn’t returned for days.”

“I’ve sent her so many apology texts, but she hasn’t responded to a single one.”

“Maybe... maybe I should move out?”

Watching her on the verge of tears again, Michael frowned and pulled her into his arms.

He placed a light, perfunctory kiss on her forehead. “Don’t think too much and take care of your health.”

“Whether Ashlyn likes it or not, from now on, this will be your home and our child’s.”

Half an hour after making that promise, Michael stood alone on the open-air balcony, wrapped in a silk robe, quietly smoking a cigarette.

He hadn’t smoked in a long time.

But tonight, for some reason... he couldn’t resist.

On impulse, he opened his contacts and scrolled all the way to the bottom—Ashlyn's number was still there.

His thumb hovered over the call button for a long time.

After two cigarettes, he didn’t dial. Instead, he sent a message.

[Ashlyn, tomorrow is Grandpa's 80th birthday. I suggest you don’t try any stunts at the celebration—don’t cause trouble for Daniela or her baby.]

—

The next day—Arnold Hudson’s 80th birthday celebration began.

Michael arrived hand-in-hand with Daniela, publicly and confidently, as though they were a perfect couple.

They remained side by side, affectionate and high-profile—until Arnold Hudson himself entered the venue.

Only then did Michael finally let go of Daniela’s hand and walk over to his grandfather’s side to help him welcome important guests.

“Why didn’t Ashlyn come with you?”

Faced with his grandfather's pointed question, Michael’s lips pressed into a thin line. For once, he actually defended Ashlyn.

“Sorry, Grandpa. Ashlyn’s been busy these past few days preparing your birthday gift. She’s been exhausted, so I told her to rest and come a bit later.”

Two hours passed quickly.

The birthday banquet had reached its final and most anticipated segment—the gift-giving ceremony.

But Ashlyn still hadn’t shown up.

Suppressing the growing sense of unease in his chest, Michael stepped into a corner, pulled out his phone, and dialed her number.

"The number you dialed is unavailable..."

He redialed—again and again—but the same mechanical message echoed back each time.

And then, a courier walked into the banquet hall.

He delivered three packages—each was addressed from Ashlyn.

Under the curious gaze of everyone present, Arnold smiled warmly as he opened the first gift.

Inside was an embroidered silk tapestry—a vivid and intricate “Hundred Deities Blessing Scroll.”

It was clearly something Ashlyn had poured months of effort into, hand-stitched with care and reverence.

Moved to tears, Arnold gently opened the second gift.

Inside was the heirloom jewelry set his wife had gifted her when she married into the family.

The moment those jewels were revealed, the room fell dead silent.

Everyone in high society knew what it meant when a woman returned her in-laws’ ancestral jewelry.

Before Arnold could react, Michael—face dark as storm clouds—strode toward the third gift.

Just as expected, he tore it open with frozen hands.