"Who the hell do you think you are? Stay out of this!" Nicholas snarled, twisting his arm in a desperate attempt to break free.

Kristopher didn't bother answering. He simply tightened his grip and twisted Nicholas's wrist.

A scream tore from Nicholas as a brutal wave of pain surged through him, making him feel like his bones were about to break apart.

Before he could even react, two towering men dressed in black suits appeared behind Kristopher. They grabbed Nicholas by both arms and pulled him away from Madelynn without saying a word.

The moment Madelynn saw Kristopher standing there, her heartbeat spiraled out of control.

She couldn't tell what overwhelmed her more—relief that someone had saved her, or the shame of being seen in such a humiliating state. Her lips parted, but no sound escaped.

Kristopher, however, acted as though she wasn't there.

Without sparing her even a passing glance, he slipped a hand into his suit jacket and pulled out a pristine white silk handkerchief. Then, with deliberate precision, he began wiping the hand that had just touched Nicholas.

He moved from fingertips to wrist with meticulous care, leaving no spot unattended, as though trying to scrub away something utterly repulsive.

Once he finished, he casually discarded the used silk in the nearest trash can.

For several seconds, Madelynn could only stand there, completely stunned.

The blatant dismissal behind that simple gesture spoke louder than any words, making the distance between them impossible to ignore.

Before Madelynn could recover, a bright, cheerful voice suddenly rang out. "Kristopher, there you are! I've been searching everywhere for you..."

A young woman in an elegant champagne-colored suit dress walked toward them with graceful steps before wrapping her arm around Kristopher's with familiar ease.

"Once my checkup is finished, why don't we go have dinner at that new restaurant downtown?"

Her makeup was immaculate, and the smile she wore was sweet enough to seem almost perfect.

Madelynn instantly recognized her—Izabella Davis, the actress who had been dominating headlines recently.

Could she be... Kristopher's girlfriend?

Only then did Izabella's attention shift to Madelynn, her gaze pausing on her face for a brief moment. "Oh, aren't you the server from last night?"

The sweet smile on her lips remained as she turned back to Kristopher, her voice slipping into a slightly spoiled, almost possessive tone. "Kristopher, you know her?"

Kristopher didn't stop her from holding onto his arm. "No. A madman attacked someone just now. I didn't want him to scare you."

Without another word, he wrapped an arm around Izabella's shoulders and led her away.

He never once glanced back at Madelynn.

Within moments, the hospital corridor returned to its former silence, as though nothing had ever taken place.

Madelynn remained frozen in place, the spots where Nicholas had gripped her still aching with a lingering, dull pain.

Her gaze lingered on Kristopher's disappearing figure, a bitter, self-deprecating smile slowly forming at the corner of her mouth.

So... this was the truth of it.

He hadn't stepped in because of her. He had only acted because he feared that the "madman" might scare Izabella—the woman he was going out of his way to protect.

As for her... Whether she was hurt, humiliated, or left to suffer, none of it had anything to do with him anymore.

Her so‑called "game" six years ago—the one that had left his heart shattered—had probably faded into nothing but a distant memory for him.

Maybe he didn't even remember her at all.

And if he did, the only things left in his mind were likely disgust and contempt.

They no longer belonged to the same world.

He existed in a world so far beyond hers that even the mere contact with her husband had been enough to disgust him.

She was nothing more than a bar waitress struggling beneath the weight of her daughter's medical expenses, a woman too powerless and afraid to fight back against the cruelty she suffered every day.

So this was how it was.

Sooner or later, every debt came due—with interest, with suffering, with a price too painful to bear.

Above the restaurant floor, crystal chandeliers scattered their glow like shards of shattered diamonds. Kristopher reclined in his chair, his fingers lazily turning the wine glass in slow circles.

Not a single drop had touched his lips.

Across from him, Izabella spoke enthusiastically, sharing her thoughts on the restaurant's famous chef with a bright smile.

The backless dress she wore revealed just enough elegance, while her flawless makeup, perfectly styled hair, and carefully manicured nails completed the look.

She was beautiful in a way that naturally drew attention—the type of woman who made people glance twice without even realizing it.

But Kristopher never once looked at her.

His eyes had already wandered elsewhere, passing over Izabella's shoulder and settling on the view outside the towering glass windows. Beyond them was nothing but the distant cityscape, but his expression grew distant, as if his mind had drifted somewhere far away.

"This restaurant has been ranked the best in Athiebia for three consecutive years. There was even a time when the reservation list was backed up for more than half a year. Kristopher?"

No answer came. For two full seconds, the only sound was the quiet hum of the restaurant.

"Yeah." Only then did Kristopher finally give a response.

The smile on Izabella's face faltered for an instant before she quickly recovered.

"Kristopher." Her voice softened as she picked up a spoonful of food and brought it toward him. "Is something wrong? Does it not suit your taste? Try this one."

Kristopher's attention shifted back to her in an instant.

The moment their eyes met, a shiver ran through Izabella. She quickly withdrew her hand.

The expression in his eyes was unlike anything she had seen before.

It wasn't simple detachment or his usual indifference. It was a silent warning that she had gone too far.

"I have something to do." Kristopher placed his wine glass on the table, wiped the corner of his lips, then stood. "Enjoy your food."

Izabella's smile never faltered. "Of course. If you have something important to take care of, I won't hold you back."

She watched him disappear without hesitation, a brief trace of displeasure flashing across her face.

Their relationship had always been nothing more than a carefully arranged public image.

Kristopher was a rising tech mogul, while she was a top-tier actress constantly surrounded by attention. Both of them had more admirers and unwanted pursuits than they knew what to do with.

That was precisely why they had signed the agreement—to use each other as a shield against the endless approaches from others.

Normally, Kristopher kept a respectful but distant attitude toward her. He was so guarded that he would not even shake her hand without gloves. Yet today, everything had changed. He had actually placed an arm around her, accepted her invitation to dinner, and allowed her to hold onto his arm.

For once, she had believed their little arrangement was turning into something real—that he was finally starting to feel something for her. Yet the second they sat down at the table, he returned to the same cold, detached man he had always been.

What had caused such a sudden shift?

Could it have something to do with that server?

This was the second time it had happened. Kristopher acted distant toward that woman on the surface, but his actions revealed something else entirely. Whatever he felt for her was far more complicated than simple indifference.

Izabella could still picture her clearly—a thin, exhausted woman with a bruise at the corner of her mouth, dressed in nothing but faded, shabby clothes.

The sight had stirred nothing in Izabella except disdain.

She was nothing more than a bar server. Someone like that had no chance of ever standing on the same level as Izabella.

A cold glint passed through her eyes before she closed them, hiding the malice that had surfaced on her face.