Nana was her stage name at the dance club, but her real name was Emmie Stewart—a name with a touch of melancholic beauty, given to her by her mother, Fiona Stewart.

Fiona was a woman caught in a tragic love, hopelessly attached to a man who would never reciprocate. From a young age, Emmie understood she was the product of a reckless night between Fiona and Jack Hamilton. Fiona had cherished Emmie's birth, naively believing Jack would do the right thing and marry her.

But Fiona was mistaken. Jack barely remembered her; how could he promise a lifetime together? Besides, he was already set to marry the daughter of a wealthy business tycoon, who was pregnant. Meanwhile, Fiona faded into a forgotten memory.

Despite facing scorn from friends and family, Fiona chose to keep the baby, seeing Emmie as a unique gift from the man she loved. In Emmie's memories, Fiona adored romantic tales filled with passion and heartache. Living in her own world of feelings, she chose the name "Emmie" for her daughter.

A year ago, a car accident left Fiona in a tragic state. Doctors said even if she survived, she'd remain in a vegetative state. Fiona's life savings were depleted in just a month of medical expenses, leaving Emmie, freshly out of college, to carry the weight alone.

Watching her mother lie motionless, Emmie thought sadly that Fiona could finally live in her dreams, eternally with the man she loved. Emmie tried every possible way to raise the funds but couldn't gather enough for the medical bills quickly, forcing her to work at a dance club. She was no stranger to pole dancing, having learned it during college and even winning a competition, earning a thousand dollars. Nana was a temporary alias; only with that name could she relax and dance.

She glanced at the clock on the wall—it was late, yet sleep escaped her. Staring at a familiar number on her phone, her heart raced. Ignoring the time, Emmie finally called Liam. Hearing his tired voice, she wanted to hang up, but a sweet voice in the background asked, "Liam, who's on the phone?"

Liam's irritated voice followed, "Hello? Who's calling? It's the middle of the night!"

Emmie froze in disbelief; had Liam really forgotten her so quickly? Could someone who once showed genuine affection become so cold?

"It's me, Liam. Where are you?" Emmie tried to keep her voice steady, but to Liam, it sounded sharp. His sleepy eyes widened as he scrambled out of bed and rushed to the bathroom, clearing his throat before saying, "Emmie, I'm at home. Why are you up so late?"

"Home? But I heard a woman's voice."

"You must be mistaken. You know you're the only one I care about," Liam reassured her.

"If you love me, would you do anything for me?" Emmie raised her voice, bitterly laughing at how easily love could be professed.

Thinking Emmie was upset, Liam tried to soothe her, "Of course, whatever makes you happy, Emmie."

Anything? Emmie wanted to laugh at a man who could speak such grand words while being with another woman. How could she have been so blind?

"Go to hell! You're all liars!" Without giving Liam a chance to respond, Emmie tossed her phone aside, curling up and sobbing. From the still-connected phone, she could hear Liam's angry words: "Crazy woman, delusional, causing drama in the middle of the night. Damn, so frustrating!" This was the man Emmie had genuinely cared for. What had she done to deserve this?

As dawn broke, Emmie lay awake, staring at the ceiling, recalling Jack Hamilton's words from the previous night. When he mentioned that Kaitlin didn't like Finley, it sparked anger in her, leading her to declare she wouldn't marry Finley.

Jack seemed to read her thoughts, calmly saying, "Your boyfriend, Liam, tried to blackmail me for a hundred thousand dollars, saying he'd expose everything about us if I refused."

Jack's words hit Emmie hard, making her stagger. "How could he?" Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion.

"Why not? Between love and money, what do you think most people would choose?" Jack sneered as he described how security escorted Liam out when he attempted extortion, warning of severe consequences if he tarnished Jack's reputation.

Emmie didn't respond, instead looking at Jack and asking, "What if I refuse to marry?"

"Then your mother’s medical care will stop," Jack replied coldly.

Furious, Emmie was horrified at Jack's cruelty in using her mother as leverage. "What did my mom ever do wrong? She only loved you more than anything, and you were always so heartless. Now you want to use me, the daughter you never wanted, to fulfill your demands?"

Jack ignored her, stepping into his car. His driver, Mr. Williams, handed Emmie a bag, gently advising, "Miss, maybe you should agree for now. I'll check on your mother this afternoon. The medical costs are enormous, more than you can handle alone."

Staring at the bag for a long time, Emmie suddenly jumped out of bed. Mr. Williams was right; her mother was the most important person to her. She could earn money, but gathering enough for medical expenses quickly was impossible. The hospital wouldn't wait for her to earn it slowly.

With that realization, she picked up her phone and called Jack. "I'll marry Finley, but only if my mother receives the best care."

After hanging up, Jack set down his pen, satisfied that everything was progressing as planned. Once Emmie married Finley, his alliance with Martin Thomas would be solidified; the Thomas family wouldn't stand by if the Hamiltons needed assistance.

Jack called Martin Thomas, asking if Finley had time to meet Emmie later, and Martin agreed readily. He understood Jack’s intentions and had his reasons for supporting the alliance.

In the sunlit Victorian-style veranda of the Thomas family home, a man in a white shirt lounged on a deck chair, his shirt open to reveal bronze-toned muscles beneath. His features were refined, exuding a mature aura.

This was Finley Thomas, the eldest son of the Thomas family. Upon receiving the call from his father, Martin, his heart raced. He had heard of Jack Hamilton's illegitimate daughter, never expecting that the woman he was to marry would be Emmie Stewart.

"Never thought you'd be Jack Hamilton's daughter."

He couldn't forget her defiant yet beautiful face, those proud eyes that seemed to have witnessed the world's cruelty, making her unforgettable after just one meeting.

"What are you daydreaming about?" A voice interrupted his thoughts.

In the shadow of the sliding doors stood what could only be described as a devilishly handsome figure—Finley’s younger brother, Martin Thomas's other son. His ink-black hair against pale skin, eyes glinting with unreadable emotions, and features so perfectly sculpted they seemed crafted by a master.

Finley Thomas glanced at his brother with a mix of disdain and curiosity as he got up to leave the room. When he reached his brother’s side, he paused, offering a cool, quiet reply, "Nothing much." A smirk played on Finley's lips. "Really?" His brother stepped in, ignoring the comment. Watching him walk away, Finley straightened, allowing a mischievous grin to spread across his face.

Descending the stairs, Finley noticed his father, Martin Thomas, and his brother talking animatedly in the living room. Occasionally, the name Emmie Stewart surfaced—a woman who had preoccupied the Thomas family for days.

"What are you and my brother talking about, Dad?" Finley asked, sinking casually into the sofa, smiling gently at Martin. "You both look so cheerful; it must be something good, right?"

"Finley, with your brother's wedding coming up, if you’re not busy, why not give him a hand?" Martin looked fondly at his two sons. Even though Finley was his illegitimate child, he had always been part of the family. Martin felt guilty about it, but seeing his two sons get along helped ease that guilt.

"Sorry, Dad, I've been swamped lately," Finley replied, shooting Martin a nervous look. "Brother, maybe I can help you first?" His brother flashed him a friendly smile and turned to Martin, saying, "It's okay, Dad, Finley has his own stuff to deal with. I can manage."

In just a few minutes, the expressions on the Thomas brothers' faces shifted noticeably. Martin, oblivious to any tension, stood up with a warm smile. "Alright, this afternoon you’re meeting Emmie—get yourself something nice to wear."

"Yes, Dad, I will," his brother replied.

Feeling tired, Martin headed upstairs to rest, leaving the two brothers alone in the living room. His brother seemed indifferent as he flipped through the newspaper, his thoughts wandering to Emmie Stewart, a springlike smile involuntarily tugging at his lips.

Finley lifted his cup, took a sip of coffee, and set it back down. "Brother, I'm really sorry I can't help," he said with a sarcastic laugh.

"I've already said it's fine," his brother replied. "Finley, you can go after your latest girlfriend."

No one really knew the escapades of Finley, the youngest Thomas, always surrounded by different beautiful women—a new one each day, never the same. Only his brother knew how their mother would retreat to her room to cry silently ever since Finley arrived, carrying resentment for this unexpected brother. He believed Finley felt the same. Someday, with enough evidence, he wouldn’t hesitate to push Finley out.

"Oh, thanks for not telling Dad; otherwise, I'd be in a bind," Finley chuckled, raising a ravioli to eye level, biting it delicately and savoring it slowly. "Obedient" was the last word anyone would use to describe him. His sharp, chiseled features felt like a cold winter wind, making his brother feel as if countless ice shards were piercing him.

"A child born from a woman who clings to every man in sight—I’m not interested!"

"You!" Even Finley's usually composed demeanor faltered at this. He sprang up, grabbing his brother’s shirt collar, anger etched on his face. "Say that again!"

His brother folded the newspaper, disdainfully pushed Finley away, and retreated to his room, slamming the door shut.

Alone in the living room, Finley’s fingers tightened around the coffee cup, his knuckles white with the pressure. Unable to quell the fury inside, the cup shattered, breaking with a sharp crack.

"Emmie, huh?"

Finley straightened, raising an eyebrow as he casually called for Mrs. Jenkins to clean up the mess, giving her an apologetic smile, claiming it was accidental.

Cobblestone Lane was a winding maze of rundown buildings and chaos—the epitome of noise and disorder. Its residents were mostly low-income workers, with a smattering of elderly and children among them.

A black sedan pulled up at No. 606 Cobblestone Lane, drawing curious kids who clustered around it. Neighbors were surprised to see such a car parked there, as the mother-daughter pair living at this address were generally reclusive.

Gossip-loving middle-aged women and lonely elders relished a good story. As two people entered No. 606, packing the car with meager possessions, the neighborhood buzzed with speculation.

"Isn't this Emmie's place? Heard her mom was in the hospital. Who are they?"

"What do you know? I heard Emmie's mom was quite the character. Maybe Emmie's some rich family's kid going back home now that her mom’s in a coma."

"Who knows? Maybe Emmie snagged herself a wealthy man and is off to a mansion."

"I always thought Emmie was special; with her looks, she wasn't going to stay in this rundown alley forever. Finding a rich guy’s easy for a young woman—until prettier ones come along, then men forget them."

Everyone chimed in, imaginations soaring. As Emmie would say, if these people wrote books, they’d be best-sellers.

Leaving behind the home she'd known for twenty-five years filled Emmie Stewart with deep regret. Every item in her room was precious. Who knew when she'd return after moving into the Hamilton family home? She didn't bring much, aware her stay would be brief. Mr. Johnson urged her to hurry, seeing her linger over her memories. He courteously reminded her, "Miss, we should go."

"Alright." Emmie locked the door, skipping farewells to the neighbors before getting into the car. Her days of scrambling for a meal were over, and she was supposed to be happy. Her mother’s medical expenses were now manageable, and survival wasn’t a concern. But regardless of how she tried to convince herself, she couldn’t find a reason to smile.

Emmie followed Mr. Johnson into the opulent Millray Estate. This was her second visit to the grand residence. In the expansive living room—extending over a thousand square feet—sat three people she recognized.

"You took your sweet time. Such a country bumpkin."

A woman in a red Victorian-style dress glanced arrogantly at Emmie, her smoky eye makeup reminiscent of a panda, the national treasure.

Ignoring Kairi Hamilton's remarks, Emmie addressed Mr. Hamilton in a composed manner, "Where's my room?"

"So rude, acting like we’re invisible?" Su Ling, beside Mr. Hamilton, gave Emmie a disdainful glance, though she maintained a smile, showing her presumably polished manners.

Seeing her sparked intense anger within Emmie, a desire to destroy everything—including the house. "You might think so, but I didn’t say it. Can I go to my room now?"

"You… Husband?" Su Ling frowned, seeking support from her husband. Kairi stood up, approached Emmie, and slapped her across the face, stars dancing before her eyes.

"How dare you speak to my mom like that? Apologize!"

Unfazed by Kairi, Emmie lifted her head, fists clenched with determination. Before she could retaliate, Mr. Hamilton descended the stairs, softly saying, "We’re all family. Let’s not fight."

Kairi, feeling justified, knew her father favored her, smiling smugly. "Sure, Dad, I’ll be a good sister."

Tears welled up in Emmie's eyes again. She forced them back, refusing to cry in front of them. Her mind went back to when she first visited Millray Estate, when her mother came seeking help for her school fees. She would never forget how Kairi had dragged her to try on clothes, only to tear them to pieces. When Mr. Hamilton returned, Kairi pretended innocence, claiming Emmie had worn her clothes without asking. Mr. Hamilton, not listening to Emmie, slapped her twice, then kicked her and her mother out like they were trash. Her tuition only got paid when her mother mortgaged their home to keep her in school.

Kairi Hamilton led Emmie Stewart to the guest room on the first floor to help her prepare for the evening. After changing into a Victorian-style dress, Emmie sat at the vanity while Kairi expertly applied a light touch of makeup, understanding the importance of Emmie's appearance and catering to Finley Thomas's refined taste.

"With this look, you'll easily catch Finley Thomas's eye," Kairi admired her own work with a satisfied nod.

The word "charm" struck Emmie's heart. She had no comeback for Kairi's comment, aware that Kairi's father intended for her to captivate Finley to further his own secretive plans.

As Emmie walked out, she lifted her dress slightly and glanced back at Kairi, who was now lounging on the bed, her phone in hand, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "Emmie's off to meet Dad. What's your secret plan you won't reveal to me? I've helped you out, so how do you plan to thank me? Haha, I always knew you were the best."

At the Hilton Hotel, Kairi's father offered Emmie a few words of encouragement regarding her interaction with Finley Thomas. Emmie, however, remained composed, her face giving no indication of whether his advice resonated or if her thoughts drifted elsewhere.

The door swung open, and two men walked in. Kairi’s father quickly donned a welcoming smile and stood to greet them. Emmie recognized Martin Thomas and his son, Finley. She took a deep breath and regarded them carefully.

Martin Thomas embodied the spirit of a successful businessman, his hair neatly parted, and he seemed a bit younger than Kairi’s father. Finley, despite his youthful appearance, radiated a mature allure, in line with how the media portrayed him as the ideal bachelor.

After introductions, Martin turned his smile toward Emmie, who stood with an elegant poise that matched his expectations for a future daughter-in-law, easing his initial concerns.

"This must be Emmie?"

"Yes, Mr. Thomas, this is my daughter, Emmie," Kairi’s father said, glancing at Emmie with an unspoken understanding meant only for her. She extended her hand with a gentle smile, "Hello, Mr. Thomas."

"Emmie, you are truly stunning. Kairi, why haven't you brought her to events before?" Martin commented, his background research ensuring no surprises upon meeting her.

"Emmie lived with her mother until recently. She's been through much hardship, but I intend to make up for it," Kairi’s father explained smoothly, his warm expression concealing ulterior motives.

Emmie's brow furrowed slightly. She hadn’t expected him to use her past challenges as a bargaining chip with Martin. It was somewhat amusing.

"I'm Finley Thomas."

Seated opposite her, Finley watched Emmie with a steady gaze, a touch of sadness in his eyes, yet his smile radiated warmth. His lips curled as if lost in pleasant thoughts.

"Hello," Emmie replied softly, focusing on her plate and cutting her meal with deliberate care, her eyes avoiding his.

"If you don't look at me, how will we get along?" Finley set down his fork, his gentle eyes fixed on her, puzzled by her lack of recognition.

At his comment, Emmie met his gaze. "Is this better?" she asked, feeling a vague familiarity with his face, as if it were a distant memory.

Sensing the need for privacy, Kairi’s father and Martin left the room, mentioning other matters that required their attention. Alone, Finley closed the door, laughing softly, "Your personality hasn't changed at all!"

"What?" Emmie was confused. Had they met before?

He playfully flicked her forehead and smiled, reminiscing, "You really don’t remember me?"

"Have we met?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.

"At your school’s sports field…" Finley prompted, hoping to jog her memory.

School sports field? Emmie searched her memory until an image emerged: a boy had once cornered her there, asking her to be his girlfriend, and had impulsively kissed her, later taking her to a hotel under the guise of a date.

Could it be… Could Finley be that boy?

"You’re that…"

"So you’ve remembered. Yes, that was me." Finley leaned in, planting a soft kiss on her lips. "I never thought you'd become my wife," he smiled.

"You… I never imagined…" Emmie downed her glass of wine, avoiding Finley's gaze.

Finley refilled her glass, raising his own in a toast, "To old acquaintances meeting again."

"Yes, cheers," Emmie mused inwardly. Old acquaintances? Could that be true when she hadn't even recalled his name?

As the evening wore on, the wine disappeared quickly. Emmie felt a slight dizziness and, squinting at Finley, began to laugh softly, her vision blurring. Concerned, Finley asked, "Emmie, are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine, just a bit light-headed," she brushed off his worry. Why fret over a little inebriation? She requested more wine, determined to continue the toast. Alcohol truly dulled the nerves, she thought, as everything seemed trivial now.

"More? I think you've had enough. Let me help you lie down," Finley said, moving his chair closer to assist her as they left the room, arranging a guest room through the hotel staff. He laid Emmie carefully on the bed and pulled up a chair, observing her as she slept.

Her long lashes were slightly damp, a solitary tear glistening on her cheek. Finley hesitated, then wiped it away, his hand lingering on her smooth skin. Drawn to her, he leaned in, tasting her lips, the flavor intertwined with the wine.

Sensing movement, Emmie opened her eyes swiftly. Startled by his proximity, she pushed Finley away and sat up. Spotting the door, she seized the moment and escaped, even as his apology followed, "I'm sorry, Emmie."

A bit tipsy from so little wine, she chastised herself inwardly. What if she hadn’t woken up? She would have truly been swept away by Finley. Who ends up in bed with someone upon their first encounter?

Run! Emmie quickened her pace as Finley followed, apologizing. She turned sharply, opening an arbitrary door to hide, shutting it behind her.

Finally catching her breath, she was face to face with a man clad only in a towel, surprise etched on his face. She was momentarily speechless.

"Who are you?" he asked, stepping closer. Just then, a knock sounded at the door, causing Emmie to glance between it and the man, wordlessly asking for assistance. He reached out, pulling her onto the wide bed, covering them both with the sheets. Stifling a scream, he muffled her with his hand. When the door creaked open, he released her and turned to smirk at the newcomer, "What brings you here? Got caught in the act, did you?"