What was happening? The man's words were baffling—what did he mean by catching someone red-handed? Emmie Stewart didn't need to think twice to realize that the person who had entered wasn’t anyone else.

Emmie was certain that Finley Thomas was standing right across from the bed, his gaze feeling as though it pierced through the covers to her very soul. “Please, just make him leave quickly.”

Emmie’s face was practically contorted with embarrassment; if Finley saw her current state, she might wish the ground would swallow her up. The man seemed indifferent to Emmie's silent plea for rescue and instead settled himself atop her stomach, pulling the blanket down a bit. In desperation, Emmie placed a pillow over her face, silently praying that Finley’s eyes would stop functioning.

Finley, who had seen many unusual scenes, looked at the two people on the bed without a hint of expression, fully aware of the suggestive nature of the situation. However, the man before him was someone he utterly despised. Relaxing his shoulders, he turned to leave without uttering a word.

“You’re just going to walk away?” Emmie was momentarily stunned. What did this mean? Was the man not planning to help her? Peeking out from under the pillow, she saw a magnified handsome face, so striking it nearly took her breath away. She could hear her heart pounding. She didn’t yet realize that if a mirror were held over her head, she'd see how flushed her cheeks were.

“What are you doing?” Emmie whispered, hoping the man would have a little mercy and let her escape this awkward encounter.

“What do you think I’m doing?” The man's voice was loud enough to wake the dead, and Emmie felt a surge of panic—was he trying to get her into trouble?

“Please, make him leave?” At this point, all she could do was endure. If she upset this man and he left her exposed to Finley, she’d really be in a fix. First, Martin Thomas wouldn’t let her hear the end of it, and secondly, if word got out, she'd be too humiliated to face anyone.

“Name your price!” The man’s words came out through gritted teeth, and Emmie saw a glimmer of hope. With a faint smile, she replied in a low tone, "I’ll do whatever you want, as long as it doesn't involve physical harm."

“Deal!”

The handsome face moved away, and the man jumped off the bed. As his feet hit the ground, he pulled the blanket back up, allowing Emmie to breathe a sigh of relief beneath it.

“What, you think I'm going to stick around as an observer?”

That was Finley’s voice. Emmie screamed internally—yes, yes, please leave, I beg you!

“You’ve ruined my day, how do you plan to make it up to me?” Emmie remained hidden under the blanket, hearing the man bargaining with Finley, growing increasingly anxious—what was this guy's angle?

“I’ll cover all your expenses here, will that do?” Finley’s voice sounded irritated. After all, he was concerned Emmie might misunderstand him. Yet, someone had to disrupt his plans.

“Such a trivial amount, what does it mean to you? Using that to compensate me seems beneath you, doesn’t it?” The man emphasized the word “beneath,” letting his gaze flick to the raised portion of the bed, his lips curling into a smug smile.

Finley retrieved a sleek black wallet from his pocket, tossed a gold card onto the bed, and said, “This should be enough!” Without a backward glance at the man, he exited the room, slamming the door behind him.

Emmie, hidden under the blanket, jumped at the loud noise, curling up in fear and closing her eyes to compose herself. She was petrified—Finley had a temper that shouldn’t be casually tested. She needed to be more cautious in the future.

“Did you fall asleep or something?” The voice sounded eerily close to Emmie’s ear, jolting her into sitting upright. Glaring at the face with the playful grin, she muttered, “Thanks!”

With his arms crossed and leaning against the wall, the man replied with dissatisfaction, “Is that how you thank your rescuer? I think he hasn’t gone far yet; maybe I should call him back…”

“No, no, that was wrong of me, please don’t bring him back!” Emmie interrupted, quickly apologizing with exaggerated gratitude, “Thank you so much!”

“Forget it, I’ll be the bigger person. What’s your name?”

His demeanor and expression conjured up the word “punchable” in Emmie’s mind. Frowning slightly, she replied, “Emmie Stewart.”

The man gazed at her for a good two seconds and then kindly poured her a comforting cup of coffee. “My name is Finley Thomas.”

Emmie was bewildered by his sudden change in attitude, but when she heard those last three words, she choked, sputtering her drink onto Finley. The liquid trickled down his bare skin to his towel.

Finley shot her a murderous glare and dashed to the bathroom. She heard the water running and knew he wouldn’t be out anytime soon. She quickly tidied her clothes, brushed her unruly hair, touched up her makeup, and, when the sound of running water continued uninterrupted from the bathroom, tip-toed to the door. Once outside, she strutted out of the hotel with a composed, dignified air.

Back in her room at the Hamilton house, she finally relaxed her taut nerves. Today had been dreadful. Trying to avoid Finley, she had unwittingly ended up in his room. If anyone found out, Martin would surely have her head!

The thought sent a shiver down her spine. Finley wouldn’t tell Martin, would he? If so, she was truly doomed. Then again, what would Finley gain from telling Martin? Surely he wasn’t that petty!

Finley emerged from the bathroom and, seeing no sign of Emmie, pressed his lips together in frustration. “Spit water at me, will you? You’ve got nowhere to hide!”

As Emmie was drifting off to sleep, her door swung open forcefully, and there stood Kairi Hamilton, looking down at her. “How can you still have the nerve to nap? What a useless slug!”

Emmie slowly sat up, meeting Kairi’s gaze coldly. “You’d think the lady of the house would be refined. But it turns out you’re nothing more than a sheltered flower, a frog in a well. Don’t you know slugs can be sold?”

Kairi’s eyes narrowed, like daggers piercing into Emmie. “Calling me sheltered? Just like a pauper to only see the money!”

“Exactly. So, it’s best if you don’t come into a pauper’s room!” Emmie pointed to the door, her voice icy. “You don’t need me to show you out, do you?”

“Do you think I wanted to come see you? If Dad hadn’t asked me to call you to the study, I wouldn’t have bothered stepping in here.” Kairi turned to leave, offering a parting shot, “The necklace I’m wearing? Dad picked it just for me. He said it suits me perfectly!” With that, she left, closing the door behind her with satisfaction.

Emmie clenched her fists, biting her lip, reminding herself not to get angry. Kairi was just trying to provoke her for amusement. But those taunts were like pebbles thrown into a river, quickly washed away by the current.

Emmie Stewart changed into something comfortable and knocked on the door of Russell Woods’ study on the second floor, east side. Russell shot her a sharp look, irritation clear on his face, and got straight to the point: "What are you trying to do, mess everything up?"

"I, I didn't..."

Not sure what Russell was referring to, Emmie felt a sinking feeling in her chest. Could it be that Finley Thomas told Martin Thomas about what happened this afternoon, and Martin decided to call off the engagement? The thought made Emmie turn pale. Was Russell thinking of cutting off her mother's medical care, leaving her no choice but to pack up and leave?

"Still denying it?" Russell furrowed his brow, watching her face go white, which just confirmed things for him. He lowered his voice, reprimanding loudly, "Kolson called and said you drank too much. How could you do something so embarrassing? I'm warning you, if you can't marry Kolson, I'll have the hospital stop your mom’s medical care, and you can watch her suffer."

"Please don’t do that. I’ll call Kolson and apologize. I promise I’ll make things right and won’t give him a bad impression again."

Her nerves finally relaxed a bit. Finley had kept his word and said nothing. As relief washed over her, Emmie couldn't shake the cold-heartedness Russell showed her mother, pushing her to the edge over something like this.

Loving someone completely—what's the harm in that? Even strangers share some kindness. Why be so hard-hearted towards poor Fiona Stewart? If the man she loved could watch her suffer without batting an eye, how would she feel? Emmie didn’t know and didn't want to consider it...

"Use this phone and call now!"

Russell tossed an elegant phone to Emmie. She was taken aback; she'd only seen this model in ads. It hadn't hit the market yet. Scrolling through, she saw it stored only one number. Hesitant, she dialed the contact under Kolson's name, waiting for someone to pick up. Soon, a warm voice came through, and she quickly said, "Hello, this is Emmie Stewart."

Kolson Perkins was in the middle of a shower. Pleased to see the call was from Emmie, he stepped out, towel-drying his hair as he sat on the balcony lounger, and replied in his smooth voice, "Are you feeling better? I was out of line this afternoon. I sincerely apologize for overstepping."

"It's alright; I didn’t really mind. I shouldn’t have had so much coffee. I’m really sorry." Recalling the events of the afternoon, Emmie’s mood sank.

"If you’re really sorry, how about a date tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Emmie hesitated, looking at Russell, who nodded. She quickly replied, "I’m free. Where should we meet?"

"I’ll pick you up. Thank you for agreeing."

Hearing her agree to the date, Kolson was thrilled. He barely finished drying his hair, eager to keep listening to her voice through the phone.

"Okay, I’ll wait for you."

Emmie hung up and returned the phone to Russell, her smile fading into a steely demeanor. "Kolson will pick me up tomorrow. He didn’t specify where."

Russell listened, satisfied, and nodded, pushing the phone back to Emmie. He pulled a gold card from his drawer, issuing a command: "Use this phone for all communications with Kolson from now on. Feel free to use the money on this card. Alright, you can go!"

Feel free to use it? Emmie gazed at the elegant card, realizing it held a significant sum. She could escape with Fiona using this card!

She chuckled bitterly. Surely Russell would monitor every transaction, knowing how much was spent and where it went. It was just a fleeting thought, nothing more.

Lying in bed, her mind raced. The silence was shattered by her old phone ringing on the table. Lazily, she picked it up to see an unfamiliar number. Cautiously, she answered, "Hello?"

Silence lingered before a playful voice reached her ear, "Emmie, guess who?"

After a moment, recognizing the voice, she nearly shouted, "Are you out of your mind?" Biting back the words, she calmed herself, sat up, and asked in a low voice, "How did you get my number? Finley, did you dig into my background?" Did Finley know everything about her? Was he telling everyone, making her the joke of the town?

"Investigations are for cops; I just asked a few friends. Who knew those bored folks had your number?"

Finley's tone was even more teasing. Without seeing Emmie’s face, which must have been turning all shades of red—perhaps the reaction he aimed for—Emmie raised her voice, coldly asking, "What do you want?"

"Hey, you’re going to be my sister-in-law. What could I possibly want? But if you don’t want Kolson to know you once worked in a club..."

"Name your terms."

Yes! She had worked in a club. But so what? To support herself and pay for Fiona’s medical expenses, she didn’t steal or cheat; she earned an honest living. It was certainly not lower than those who spend without earning. She never expected Finley, her future brother-in-law, to use this against her.

"Well, considering your less-than-pure past,” Finley feigned innocence, adding with a hint of humor, “I just need someone to have a drink with. Are you free?"

More drinks. Emmie tilted her head back and reluctantly agreed, "Fine, where are you? I’ll find you." She couldn’t afford any mistakes before the wedding; regret and guilt would haunt her forever.

"The Fox’s Den." Finley ended the call, a mischievous grin on his lips, telling the group around him, "My future sister-in-law is quite amusing."

A guy with multicolored hair chuckled, "Our charming lad won’t let even the sister-in-law off the hook, will he?"

Finley gave him a sidelong glance, smile unreadable, "What do you think...would I?"

"Heh, you’re quite a devil. It’s hard not to admire you a bit! Come on, folks, let’s toast to the king of hearts."

Pouring strong liquor into Finley’s glass, Moe knew Finley was a seasoned drinker, rarely drunk. As Moe finally stopped, Finley coldly smirked, "Trying to drink me under the table, Moe? Your courage is impressive!"

"No way." Moe flipped his head, gesturing to the heavily made-up women with Finley, feigning envy, "How could I dare? These temptresses with you could outdrink me in no time. I don’t think you fear my attempts."

"Alright, if you all want to drink, find a quiet spot. I need to conserve my energy for my future sister-in-law! If you fancy them, take them along."

Realizing Finley wanted solitude, Moe tactfully led the group away, finding a cozy spot to enjoy themselves. Finley ignored them, about to light a cigarette when he noticed Emmie weaving through tables, searching for him.

At this moment, she lacked the daytime elegance of a swan, barefaced, in casual home attire, like a fresh spring sprout, untouched by the world.

Finley dropped his unlit cigarette to the ground. Flicking his fingers, he signaled Emmie, pulling her into his lap as she approached, offering a devilish smile, whispering quietly in her ear, "Shall we do something to betray my brother?"

From the moment Emmie Stewart received Finley Thomas's call, she couldn't shake a sense of unease. Claiming fatigue, she politely excused herself from the Hamilton family's first dinner together.

Luckily, her room was on the ground floor. Carefully, she opened the window and climbed out, relieved that her departure went unnoticed. Passing by the living room window, she overheard Scarlett Hamilton grumbling, "That Emmie girl is getting way too bold, no respect for me as the lady of the house. Honestly, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn't put up with this."

Kairi Hamilton joined in, equally frustrated, "Exactly! I don't believe she's truly tired. Dad, Emmie doesn't respect us at all."

"Alright, alright, let's not get worked up about an outsider. She’s not dining with us, so you don't have to see her. Calm down, my dear wife and daughter," soothed Arthur Hamilton.

Emmie, crouching beneath the window, felt a sharp pang at Arthur's words. Her eyes moistened, her brow creased, and she bit her lip until it blanched. It took her a moment to pull herself together and dash off, finally relaxing once she was in a cab. She asked the driver to keep the backseat dark, unafraid to let her vulnerability show in the shadows.

Arriving at O'Malley’s Pub—the place Finley had mentioned—she masked her sadness with a bright smile. In the dim light, she searched for the man whose actions had left her feeling unguarded. His sudden closeness caught her off guard; his words echoed in her mind: what did he mean by risking his relationship with his brother Kolson? Was he trying to take advantage of her?

Trying to read his expression, she only saw his relaxed, handsome features. His loose shirt hung off one shoulder, revealing a glimpse of pale skin that briefly captivated her.

Noticing her gaze on his exposed shoulder, Finley understood her bewilderment and stood still, letting her look. With a teasing smile, he said, "What's wrong? Can't wait any longer? Care to change the scenery?" His words snapped her back to reality, making her blush and frantically wave her hands, "No need, this is fine."

"Wasting no time, are you? Eager to see me again after sharing my bed?"

As Finley leaned closer, wrapping an arm around her, Emmie felt a shiver of discomfort. She stood up and moved to a different seat, giving him a cold stare. "How do you know I used to dance at a club?"

"A friend who apparently admires you has photos of your performances," Finley said, his eyes appraising her with interest. "Who knew you had such talent?"

"Planning to tell Kolson or Martin?" Emmie smirked, sensing no compliment in his words.

“No, no, no,” he replied.

His repeated denials only heightened her curiosity about his true intentions. Did he plan to use this against her? She knew better than to trust anyone who seemed benign.

"So... what's your game plan?"

Instead of answering, Finley adjusted his clothes, took her hand, and led her outside the bar. To her surprise, he hopped onto a sleek motorcycle parked outside, motioning for her to join him. Reluctantly, she gripped the back handles tightly.

Seeing her tense expression in the mirror, Finley smirked mischievously. He revved the engine, and before she could brace herself, the motorcycle sped off like a bullet.

The wind whipped against her face, forcing her eyes shut. Clinging on, she tried not to lose her balance as the motorcycle hurtled onward.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally came to a stop. Emmie opened her eyes, tried to speak, but instead succumbed to nausea. She hurried to the roadside, leaning over the railing to calm her unsettled stomach.

Once she regained her composure, she wiped her mouth and asked, "Where are we? What's the plan here?"

Finley, unfazed by the biting air, looked at her with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. “You’re the most boring woman I’ve ever met!”

What? Had she heard him correctly? He called her boring—meanwhile, he was the one dragging her to this desolate spot. Determined to steer clear of him after marrying Kolson, Emmie resolved to avoid this troublesome future brother-in-law.

"Fine, I admit I'm boring. I'm heading back."

His expression softened unexpectedly, his smile reappearing as he adjusted his tousled hair. “Ask me nicely to take you back.”

Emmie shot him a glare, stepping onto the road to flag down a passing car. She'd had enough of talking to him. Finley was nothing but an irrational troublemaker!

“Come on, beg me! Otherwise, I’ll leave you here,” he taunted, arms crossed, watching with amusement as she tried to catch a ride. His chest burned with inexplicable anger as she ignored him, so he revved up the bike and drove off.

Emmie stomped in frustration. No cars stopped, and she had no idea which direction to go, let alone how to get back to the Hamiltons.

“Finley Thomas, you jerk! No, king of the idiots!” she fumed.

Before she could finish her rant, a voice came from behind. "You dare insult me! Do you really think I won't tell Kolson that you danced at a club, provocative enough to catch any man's eye?"

“Where did you come from?” Emmie clutched her chest, startled. She’d seen him leave, yet here he was, sneaking up on her.

“Right behind you!” Finley grumbled, pulling her back onto the flashy yet breezy motorcycle, insisting she hold onto his waist this time.

“I can hold onto the back,” Emmie protested, feeling awkward, considering he was her soon-to-be brother-in-law.

“With all your secrets, you don’t want Kolson finding out, so you better listen to me.”

“I danced in a club; Kolson could find that out himself,” Emmie worried about her future. Would Martin and Kolson still accept her if they knew she had danced in clubs?

Seeing her anxiety, Finley lightly patted her shoulder, "You've done more than just dance. You’ve also been in my bed, met me at night, and now you’re riding my bike, holding me."

“You forced me to!”

Emmie shouted at the back of his head, incredulous at how this mischievous brother-in-law managed to ensnare her. Despite considering herself clever, she couldn’t believe her run of bad luck.