Back home, Jace crouched down out of habit, reaching to change my shoes.

I used to love this part — watching his long, elegant fingers grip my ankle, carefully easing my foot into a slipper.

All cold-faced and dutiful, the perfect husband.

I'd seize the moment to run my hand up his abs and watch him struggle to keep his composure.

His voice would go low and rough, and he'd scold me under his breath.

"Selene, don't start something here."

I'd giggle, pushing it further.

Things always spiraled out of control after that.

But now, his touch made me flinch.

His hand hovered in midair, then slowly withdrew.

"I'll do it myself."

I crouched down, fumbling with my shoelaces. "I'm not a child. You don't have to do this every time."

Jace stood, looking down at me.

"Selene, something's off with you."

I forced a smile. "No, it isn't."

He was quiet for a beat, then suddenly said:

"There's a banquet tomorrow. Want to come?"

My fingers froze on the laces.

I used to beg him to take me to these events. I wanted the whole world to know this gorgeous serpent husband belonged to me.

But now, comments streamed across my vision:

[Tomorrow? Isn't that when the male lead's first love shows up?]

[In the original novel, this is the banquet where the male lead hears a certain name and starts recovering his memories!]

[The real heroine is finally making her entrance! Can't wait!]

[Go on, villainess, say yes! Go watch your man fall for someone else in person!]

I bit my lip.

"I... think I'll pass."

Jace raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"I'd just be in the way."

I stood and mustered a smile. "I don't know anything about your business dealings. I'd just be bored."

He didn't respond. He just looked at me.

His gaze was heavy, and it made me squirm.

"Fine."

He turned and walked into the bedroom.

That night, I lay in bed, tossing and turning.

My head was full of what the comments had said.

After tomorrow, Jace would start recovering his memories.

He'd remember who he was. He'd remember the woman he truly loved.

And then he'd hate me.

Throw me into a pit of beastfolk.

I pulled the blankets tighter. It felt cold, suddenly.

Just then, the bedroom door swung open.

In the moonlight, Jace stood in the doorway wearing the white shirt I'd bought him.

Collar open, revealing sculpted collarbones. Sleeves rolled to the elbows, forearms lean and powerful.

My heart skipped a beat.

That shirt was my favorite. When I'd bought it, I'd practically forced him to model it for me.

He'd frowned and said it was too tight, but I'd pinned him down and made him put it on.

Every time my heat came after that, I made him wear it.

Now here he was, wearing it, standing in my doorway.

"You... what are you doing?" I shrank deeper into the blankets.

He walked in and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Are you upset?"

"About what?"

"Going to the Bureau today. Not letting me touch you."

He paused. "Is it because I came home late?"

I shook my head.

"Then what is it?"

I opened my mouth, but no words came.

I couldn't exactly say "because you're going to throw me into a pit of beastfolk in the future."

He leaned over me, one hand braced on the pillow beside my head.

The collar of the white shirt fell open, and I caught a glimpse of the smooth muscle beneath.

The incubus in me was restless.

My fingertips itched, aching to slip inside. I barely held back.

"Jace, it's late. Go to bed."

But his hand slid under the blanket and found my tail with unerring precision.

An incubus's tail is the most sensitive part of the body.

A violent shiver ripped through me.

"Jace!"

"Don't move."

His voice dropped low. His fingers traced up from the tip of my tail. "Every time you lie, your tail shivers."

I went rigid.

His voice carried a trace of roughness. "You've been lying all day. Why?"

I tried to pull my tail back, but he held it firm.

"Talk."

I bit my lip, staring at his face inches from mine, my voice trembling.

"Jace, do you... like me?"

The air went still.

I watched his eyes, waiting for an answer.

But he said nothing. He lowered his head and kissed me.

The thread of reason in my brain snapped.

Incubus instinct won over logic.

I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him back.

He let out a low groan and pressed me into the mattress.

The white shirt was crumpled beyond saving, two buttons popped open. His breath was scalding against the side of my neck.

His voice, low and rough:

"Selene, what the hell has gotten into you?"

I didn't answer. I just pressed my lips to his throat.

His body went rigid, then his arms tightened around me.

We went at it until very late that night.

By the end, I was too spent to keep my eyes open. All I remember is him pulling me into his arms, fingers combing through my hair again and again.

His voice was barely a whisper.

"Stop running away. I don't like it."

But I was already too far gone, and only caught the last few words.

I woke the next morning to an empty bed.

I reached for the spot beside me — still warm.

My phone buzzed.

It was the fox clerk.

"Ms. Selene, didn't you say you were coming in for a divorce yesterday? You never showed! Are you still coming today?"

My brain was still foggy. I mumbled:

"Today..."

"Coming where?"

A voice behind me.

I whipped around. Jace stood in the doorway, holding a glass of water.

He was wearing that wrinkled white shirt, collar still open, a red mark visible above his collarbone.

I swallowed.

On the phone, the fox was still talking: "Hello? Ms. Selene? Are you still coming in today?"

Jace stepped closer, leaned down, and took my phone.

His tone was perfectly calm:

"She's not going today."

He hung up.

Then he set the phone on my pillow and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

"Sleep a little longer. I'll make breakfast."

I watched his retreating figure, mind blank.

What did that mean?

Did he not know I was going there for a divorce?

Or did he know and was pretending not to?

I chewed my lip. He was the one who'd said he didn't like me last night.

My phone buzzed again.

A message from the fox clerk: [What's going on, Ms. Selene?? Your husband picked up?? I thought you said he had a micropenis??]

I stared at the message, remembering last night.

My face turned scarlet.

I typed back: [Misunderstanding. He has a huge one.]

The fox replied instantly: [??? Then why are you getting divorced??]

I stared at the screen, at a loss for how to answer.

When I looked up, Jace had already left the house. He hadn't even given me his usual goodbye kiss.

When Jace left, I pressed my face against the second-floor window and watched.

He was dressed sharply today — black suit, an aura of cold restraint.

Before getting into the car, he glanced up in my direction.

[The male lead's heading to the banquet! The show's about to start!]

[I've reread this part of the original eight hundred times — the male lead hears someone mention "Chloe" at the banquet and immediately starts acting strange!]

[The heroine isn't even there in person, but her name alone is the strongest memory trigger!]

[Once the male lead remembers, the first one getting dealt with is that incubus peeping from the window up there!]

I yanked the curtains shut.

My chest felt like someone was squeezing it.

I knew who he was going to see.

She wouldn't be there, but her name would be enough to bring everything back.

I stared at the ceiling for a while, then pulled out my phone and called my best friend.

"Mona, let's go drinking."

Half an hour later, I was buried face-first in a cushion at a bar booth, muffling my complaints:

"Tell me he's not insane. Kisses my forehead in the morning, then goes off thinking about another woman at night?"

Mona chewed on her straw, unimpressed. "Babe, aren't you the one trying to divorce him? Who cares who he's thinking about?"

"That's different!"

"How is it different?"

I choked, then managed: "I'm allowed to file for divorce first. He's not allowed to think about someone else first!"

Mona rolled her eyes. "Selene, you're something else."

She set down her straw, then her face suddenly lit up. She waved at someone behind me.

"Over here!"

I turned. A young man was walking toward us.

White T-shirt, silver-gray hair, pointed ears traced with the faint pattern of snake scales.

His eyes were a pale amber, and when he smiled, they curved into soft crescents — like a big, sweet puppy.

"And this is?"

"My new little friend. Serpentfolk. Pure-hearted puppy-boy type."

Mona pushed him into the seat next to me. "You like serpentfolk, right? This one's way better than that iceberg husband of yours — at least he smiles!"

The serpentfolk boy greeted me sweetly, his voice soft: "Hi there, I'm Luca."

He was undeniably cute.

I sat there rigid, every thought in my head circling back to what would happen if Jace found out I was out meeting another serpentfolk.

A second later, I shoved the thought aside. He was off seeing his first love, wasn't he?

I shook my head, shaking Jace out of it.

"Selene? Are you okay?"

The serpentfolk boy leaned closer. "Your face is really red. Are you too warm?"

"N-no, I'm fine!"

I scooted back, but he leaned in further, all smiles, and held out a cocktail.

"Try this, I mixed it myself. It's sweet."

I took the glass and took a perfunctory sip.

He rested his chin in his hand and watched me, eyes sparkling.

"You're so pretty."

"Your tail is really pretty too. Can I touch it?"

Mona was making frantic eyes at me from across the table, mouthing "go for it, go for it."

I took a deep breath and told myself: right, that's right, time to start a new life.

I squeezed out a smile. "So, how old are you?"

"Just came of age."

He blinked. "But don't worry, I know what I'm doing."

I was still searching for a response when he suddenly leaned in again, whispering:

"You smell amazing."

His breath grazed my neck. I flinched.

For some reason, the gesture reminded me of Jace.

Every time he got close, he'd watch my reaction, then murmur in my ear with that low, rough voice:

"Selene, your tail's peeking out again, hm?"

I bit my lip.

The serpentfolk boy was still moving closer. I was about to push him away when a man's voice came from behind me, laced with amusement.

"Well, well. Isn't this our dear Selene?"

I froze.

Three or four men stood in the doorway of the booth, all in suits.

The one in front — I recognized him. One of Jace's business associates, surnamed Johnson.

And there was Jace, in his black suit, face expressionless.

Those slit pupils cut through the dim light, fixed directly on me.