"What... what do you mean?"

Tristan's usual air of confidence wavered for the briefest moment. His brow twitched and there was an unmistakable stiffness in his expression.

Vanessa, on the other hand, scoffed, crossing her arms with an exasperated glare. "Charlie, seriously? You're going to act all high and mighty now that the company's gone public? After everything Tristan's done for you, this is how you repay him? With this ungrateful attitude?"

I glanced at her without a word. The way she clung to self-righteousness was laughable. But now, I couldn't be bothered.

I turned away, adjusting the cuff of my sleeve as I walked past them. "Think whatever you want. I have things to do."

Vanessa's complaints trailed after me, but I let them fade into the background. Right now, I had no interest in wasting my time because there was something far more important at hand.

Before my death, I had seen my attacker's face clearly. It had been Martin Steele—the company's former Chief Financial Officer.

Martin had been convicted and sent to prison after Tristan personally testified against him for embezzling a massive amount of kickbacks. At the time, I had believed Tristan's words. But now, the pieces no longer fit.

If Martin had truly been guilty, why had he come after Tristan the moment he was released? Why was he willing to kill?

I needed to investigate the case from back then. I couldn't let the betrayal and hatred from my previous life go unanswered. But, most of the trails had gone cold, so I had no concrete leads.

That afternoon, as I pored over old documents in my office, my phone buzzed with a message from Vanessa: [I have something to do tonight. I'll be home late.]

I chuckled, shaking my head. She had no idea I hadn't set foot in our home all day. If she were truly concerned about me, she would've known. But of course, she wasn't concerned—because she was too busy spending her nights with Tristan.

A few minutes later, the soft chime of the elevator reached my ears, so I instinctively turned off the office lights.

Footsteps. Two sets. It had to be them.

I remained still, waiting, listening as their voices filtered through the door.

"Vanessa, I've already looked into it," Tristan said in a hushed but eager tone. "That bastard Martin is getting released in three days—at night."

Vanessa's voice was laced with satisfaction. "Perfect timing. The media's been eating up the news of you moving into the mansion. It's all over the trending list."

Tristan let out a soft chuckle. "Exactly. The moment Martin gets out, he'll go straight there for revenge. And with it being dark, he won't be able to tell that Charlie's the one living there instead of me."

My fists clenched at my sides.

"As soon as he attacks," Tristan continued, "the police will shoot him for murder. And just like that, I'll never have to worry about him again. And once Charlie's out of the picture... well, we won't have to hide anymore."

Vanessa let out a small sigh. "It's just a shame... Charlie isn't falling for it. He refused the mansion."

Tristan clicked his tongue in irritation. "That idiot. He's never turned down anything from me before. Why now?"

"Don't worry," Vanessa said soothingly. "I'll find a way to help you."

Tristan's voice dipped into amusement. "He was jealous today. You didn't go home tonight—he didn't suspect anything, did he?"

Vanessa scoffed. "Suspect? Charlie's been a pathetic, lovesick fool from the start. If it weren't for my parents forcing me to marry him, I wouldn't have even looked at him. No matter how much I fool around, he wouldn't dare ask for a divorce."

Tristan laughed lowly. "That's good. But still, just thinking about how that idiot would react if he found out his wife and his best friend have been screwing each other for three years—it's hilarious."

He hummed in amusement before his tone shifted into something more suggestive. "Vanessa, the office is empty at night. And we didn't have enough fun at the hotel earlier. How about here?"

Vanessa's laughter grew breathy. "You're so naughty..."

Then, the unmistakable sounds of hurried movements. The rustling of fabric. The stifled gasps and whispers.

Anger boiled in my veins. Vanessa—the woman I had spent years loving, protecting, cherishing—had never once hesitated to betray me.

She had never truly cared.

I had fought for her, bled for her. I had given up opportunities to stay by her side. When her parents had fallen ill, I had drained my own savings to help them. When she had told me she was afraid of childbirth, I had never once pressured her for children.

And yet, all these years, I had been nothing more than a fool in her eyes.

Through the haze of fury, I forced myself to breathe. Now wasn't the time to act rashly. Tristan was more dangerous than I had ever realized and I needed solid proof—evidence of his crimes. Only then could I bring him down completely.

Silently, I slipped out of the building.

But one thing still didn't make sense.

No matter how bitter someone was about being framed, no matter how much hatred burned inside them—who would risk their life to commit murder the very moment they were released from prison?

Just what exactly had Tristan done to Martin?

On the way back, I suddenly remembered a very crucial person. Without hesitation, I pulled out my phone and made a call, issuing a few instructions. There was no room for error in what I was planning.

Not long after I lay down in my apartment, I heard the sound of the door unlocking.

I didn't get up immediately. Instead, I listened, tracking her movements. The slight hesitation in her steps, the hurried rustling of her bag, the soft creak of the mirror cabinet as she undoubtedly checked her appearance.

Finally, I stepped out of the bedroom, my movements deliberate.

Vanessa flinched the moment she saw me. Her eyes widened and her hand instinctively shot up to her neck, but she was too slow. I had already seen them—the faint, deep-red marks marring her skin. She hurriedly adjusted her collar, tugging it up in a futile attempt to hide the evidence of her betrayal.

"Honey, you're still up?" she asked, forcing a smile.

I responded evenly, "Yeah, just got back from the office."

Her smile faltered for a split second before she masked it with an exaggerated pout. "I just went to the office to look for you, but I didn't expect you to come home early. Geez, I made the trip for nothing. You have to make it up to me."

Saying this, she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around mine, leaning in as she always did when she wanted to manipulate me.

In the past, I had been utterly weak to this act of hers. I would have given in without hesitation, drawn in by the illusion of her affection. I would have pulled her close, murmured reassurances and allowed her to convince me that she truly cared.

But now? I felt nothing. Calmly, I removed her arms from mine and stepped back.

Vanessa blinked in surprise, but she quickly recovered, tilting her head with a feigned look of concern. "Honey, what's wrong? You're not still mad just because I defended Tristan earlier, are you?"

Her voice carried the same gentle persuasion she had used countless times before, as if I were some naive fool easily swayed by her words.

"I just think that you shouldn't be so distant with Tristan," she continued, her tone light but insistent. "Before, you guys used to exchange gifts so easily, but this time you hesitated. Of course, he's going to overthink that."

She sighed dramatically, as if my actions were unreasonable. "You wouldn't be where you are today without Tristan. If you have a falling out with him, who will come help you if you need it? I'm saying this for your own good. Why not just accept the house?"

I sneered inwardly. Saying it was for my own good, yet she was setting me up to be killed.

Without revealing my emotions, I replied coldly, "Since you think the house is great, why don't you move there instead?"

Vanessa's expression shifted in an instant. "Charlie, what the hell are you talking about?! I'm your wife and you have the nerve to say something like that!"

Her voice grew shrill, her face contorting with anger. "My parents were so blind to have made me marry a man like you, someone with no vision!"

I let out a cold chuckle. "Yeah, I have no vision. Otherwise, I wouldn't have married a woman like you."

That was the final straw. Vanessa's face twisted with rage and before I could react, she grabbed the nearest object—a porcelain cup—and hurled it at me.

The cup struck my forehead, shattering on impact. A sharp sting erupted across my skin as warm blood trickled down my temple.

Vanessa pointed a trembling finger at me. "Charlie, do you still want to stay married or not?! If you do, then take that damn house! I've been with you for so many years—even if you don't want to live there, I do!"

She was still pushing for it, still trying to maneuver me into that death trap.

"I even planned a celebration banquet in your name to build up your reputation and this is how you repay me? You've disappointed me!"

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed.

I glanced at the screen—Zane, the company's current CFO.

"Mr. Ross, your wife said there's a celebration banquet this evening. I saw you weren't at the office, so I wanted to remind you to come early. The guys are getting impatient."

A banquet? So, this was her next move. I had no idea what Vanessa was plotting, but since the company had just gone public, it wouldn't be good to dampen employee morale.

I sighed and agreed.

Vanessa, seeing that I had given in, smiled in satisfaction. She patted my arm, her earlier anger vanishing as if it had never existed. "Good. Don't let me down, okay? Be sure to attend."

That evening, I arrived at the venue she had chosen.

Something felt off.

I noted the location immediately—it was less than a hundred yards away from that mansion.

Inside the hotel, the banquet hall was already lively. Many employees had arrived and the air buzzed with chatter.

But my eyes landed on two specific figures standing by the bar. Oscar and Bruno.

A frown crept onto my face.

"Oscar, Bruno, what are you two doing here?"

These two had spent the last year slacking off, violating company policies and harassing female employees. I had been meaning to fire them, but Tristan had protected them.

As soon as I finished speaking, Tristan immediately stepped in, his expression all smiles, but his eyes held a calculating glint.

"Charlie, they just happened to pass by. Since they're already here, why not let them stay?" His voice was light, almost as if he were trying to make it seem like a trivial matter.

Then, turning to the two men, he ordered, "You two, keep an eye out and make sure Mr. Ross' glass is never empty."

Oscar and Bruno exchanged knowing grins and quickly agreed.

Once the celebration banquet began, the atmosphere became lively. Toasts were made in my name, each one accompanied by the clinking of glasses and forced laughter. At first, I took a few sips out of courtesy, but before long, the alcohol began to take its toll, my vision swimming as dizziness settled over me like a heavy fog.

I tried to refuse the next drink, but before I could set the glass down, Tristan suddenly clamped a firm hand on my shoulder, his grip almost bruising. "Come on, Charlie! It's a celebration! Don't be a buzzkill."

Before I could protest, Oscar and Bruno moved in, each gripping one of my arms as they pried my mouth open.

"Before coming here, Mr. Ross said he's in a great mood. If anyone else wants to toast him, do it now—don't keep him waiting!" Tristan announced loudly, his voice filled with amusement.

Some of the attendees hesitated, uncertain about how far they should take things. Then, as if on cue, Zane stepped forward and poured a full glass of liquor into my mouth.

"Mr. Ross, this one's for you!" Zane grinned, forcing the liquid down my throat before I could react. The burn was immediate, a scorching sensation that spread from my throat to my stomach.

Drunk and disoriented, I struggled weakly, but the room seemed to tilt around me. The faces blurred together, laughter ringing in my ears like a distant echo.

Tristan leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. "Charlie, I offered you a mansion, yet you refused. Now, I have to take you there myself."

My vision wavered, but my anger burned through the haze. That bastard. He was actually forcing me into this.

As if satisfied with the turn of events, Tristan turned away and pulled Vanessa into his arms, openly kissing her in front of everyone. Yet, not a single person reacted—it was as if they had all decided to ignore what was happening right before their eyes.

By the time the banquet ended, my body felt like lead. The drunken stupor made it nearly impossible to move. Tristan dismissed the crowd with a casual wave, his demeanor unbothered. Just then, his assistant, Luke, arrived and whispered something in his ear. A slow, sinister smile spread across Tristan's face as he nodded.

"Take him to the mansion," he ordered.

The next thing I knew, I was being dragged outside. The cold night air did little to clear my mind as they shoved me into a car and drove off. My limbs felt heavy, unresponsive and my head lolled against the window.

Once inside the mansion, they didn't waste time. Tristan's men tied my hands and feet, securing me to a chair. The tightness of the restraints bit into my skin, sending a wave of sharp pain through my body.

Tristan stood before me, his expression smug as he watched me struggle uselessly.

I glared at him coldly before suddenly spitting right onto his face. "Tristan, what the hell are you trying to do?! I treated you like a brother and I even promoted you to Vice President! Is this how you repay me?!"

Tristan wiped his cheek slowly, his smirk unfaltering. Then, without warning, he drove his foot into my stomach. The force of the kick sent a jolt of agony through my body, knocking the wind out of me.

"Shut the fuck up, you dog!" he snarled.

He crouched down, his voice dropping into a low, almost amused whisper. "Since things have come this far, I might as well let you die with some understanding. Do you think I held a press conference when buying this mansion just for show? I wanted everyone to know I'd be living here."

His words sent a chill down my spine, but I forced myself to focus. "What are you talking about?" I demanded, though my voice came out hoarse.

Tristan smirked. "Do you remember Martin? He's getting out of prison tonight—and he'll be coming here to kill me. And you... you're going to be my scapegoat."

The room suddenly felt colder.

"You framed him to go to prison. You were the one stealing kickbacks! And now you have the audacity to say all this?!" I spat, my fury barely contained.

Tristan chuckled, his fingers lightly tapping against my bound arm as if amused by my anger. "Oh, so you knew? Then aren't you curious why I'm so sure Martin will come for revenge?"

A terrible thought flashed through my mind.

"If it was just about being falsely accused, he wouldn't resort to murder... unless..."

Tristan let out a low, satisfied laugh.

"That's right! I had his wife gang-raped until she died. And his son? I had him kidnapped and sold to human traffickers."

My breath hitched. A sickening wave of nausea rolled through me, but it wasn't from the alcohol.

Tristan's voice took on a sickeningly casual tone, as if he were recounting an amusing anecdote. "Every time I visited Martin in prison, I would describe how I played with his wife... and how his son got chopped into pieces by the traffickers."

He leaned in closer, his lips curling into a grin. "I did it just to enrage him. And now, I'll use him one last time—to get rid of you."

I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw ached. My hands curled into fists, nails digging into my palms.

"Does Vanessa know about this?" I forced the words out through gritted teeth.

Tristan chuckled. "If she knew I had fun with another man's wife until she died, do you think she would still be helping me set you up like this?"

His grin widened as he reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, waving it mockingly in front of my face.

"Oh, by the way... you didn't happen to have your phone recording this conversation, did you?"

Tristan took my phone, turned it over in his palm and sneered. "Just as I thought."

Without hesitation, he raised it above his head and smashed it onto the floor. The sharp crack of shattering glass echoed through the spacious mansion. Not satisfied, he ground the device beneath his heel, twisting his foot until the delicate circuits were reduced to nothing but a crushed heap.

"Charlie, your entire life has been a pathetic joke," he mocked, his voice laced with cruel amusement. "In the end, everything you've done has only served to elevate me. Tomorrow morning, I'll come back to collect your corpse. Hahaha!"

Laughing wildly, he grabbed a heavy club from the corner of the room. Without warning, he swung it with all his might, slamming it against my skull. Pain exploded through my head before my vision darkened.

As consciousness slipped from my grasp, I felt my body collapse onto the bed. Distantly, I heard Tristan moving around, carefully adjusting my position, making it seem as though I were peacefully sleeping. He was meticulous, ensuring that when Martin arrived, he would believe that he had finally found his long-awaited target.

"Don't lock the door," Tristan ordered his men before stepping out. "Let him walk right in. Make it easy for him."

Then, everything faded to black.

I had no idea how much time had passed when I felt someone shaking me awake. My eyelids fluttered open and a blurry figure loomed above me. As my vision cleared, I found myself staring into a familiar face.

Luke.

A faint smile tugged at my lips. "Did you get everything he just said?"