Hearing this, I could only find it laughable.

It seemed Claire Morgan had forgotten—I came from the exact same kind of background.

But just as I was about to speak, I caught sight of a condom packet half-slipped out of her coat pocket.

In that moment, I completely lost any interest in arguing with her.

Seeing me silent, Claire grew impatient.

“Fine, if it’ll make you happy, I’ll agree to your proposal this time and we’ll get married this year. Satisfied now?!”

A perfect two-birds-one-stone scheme.

I didn’t look at her again. I shoved past her and headed for the door.

From behind me, Claire shouted, demanding to know where I was going.

I let out a cold laugh, not breaking my stride.

“Weren’t you going to find your precious little brother? What’s wrong—suddenly not in a hurry?”

Good.

There was something I needed to return to Margaret Morgan personally…

As soon as I pulled open the passenger door, Claire tossed her phone into my lap.

Before I could ask, she spoke.

“I’ll drive—you watch Ryan’s location.”

I glanced down at her phone screen.

It was the couples’ tracking app I had begged her to use with me for ages, but she had always refused.

After I was kidnapped, she’d quickly started using it with Ryan instead.

“Don’t get the wrong idea—Ryan’s alone overseas…”

Before she could finish, I cut her off. “He’s about to be brought back to the Morgan estate. Just drive.”

We barely managed to intercept the Morgan family’s car when Claire rushed out.

Seeing her, the men didn’t dare act recklessly, and could only watch as she pulled Ryan out of the vehicle.

But before they could get back in, a taxi spun out of control and came straight at us.

Perhaps it was out of gratitude for the Morgan family’s past kindness, or maybe just because I had gotten used to protecting Claire over the years—but I grabbed her, trying to drag her to safety.

Unexpectedly, she jerked free and threw herself toward Ryan instead.

The next second, someone gave me a vicious shove.

Then came the blinding pain and Ryan Morgan’s triumphant smile—

the last thing I saw before losing consciousness.

When I awoke, Claire was nowhere to be found—only Margaret Morgan sat by my bedside.

Seeing me open my eyes, she quickly called the doctor over.

The hospital room door opened and closed as a steady stream of chatter and envy drifted in from the hall.

“Oh my God, the couple on the eighth floor is so in love! That guy’s wife treats him way too well.”

“Right? The guy just has a little scratch, and Mrs. Morgan’s been neglecting the company, feeding him and caring for him day and night.”

“Lucky bastard… why can’t I find a wife like that?”

My expression didn’t change, but Margaret could no longer sit still.

She strode out, her usual poise gone, and snapped at the onlookers:

“That man on the eighth floor is just a homewrecker! What, you all want to be someone else’s mistress too?!”

“Let it go, Mrs. Morgan…”

After all, if we were being honest, I might now be the one considered the “other man.”

At that, Margaret quickly returned to my bedside.

“Adrian, Claire does care about you—she’s just lost her head for the moment…”

Eight years together, even if it had been an act, I knew I had made my way into Claire’s heart.

But compared to Ryan Morgan, I hardly mattered.

And I didn’t want to be with someone who hadn’t cleared a space in her heart for me.

Before I could respond, Claire’s call came through.

“Adrian Foster! If you’re awake, get over here and apologize to Ryan right now—or don’t blame me if I break up with you!”

The phone was on speaker.

Margaret Morgan was so furious she was practically gasping for breath, ready to curse her out.

But Claire Morgan didn’t give anyone a chance to respond—she hung up right after speaking.

Scenes like this were nothing new to me.

So I simply pulled out the bank card I’d long prepared and placed it in Margaret’s hand.

“Mrs. Morgan, you’ve seen it yourself—Claire’s heart isn’t with me. This card contains the money I’ve earned over the years, plus the value of my contributions to the Morgan Group for the past eight years. It should be more than enough to repay the family’s kindness.”

Margaret shoved the card back into my hand as if it were a hot coal.

“Adrian, I’ll go get Claire right now and have her come down to apologize to you!”

Without another word, she turned and hurried toward the eighth floor.

I let out a long sigh, reached for the phone by my bed, and once again dialed a number to New York.

“Hello? Miss Summers? If possible, I’d like to head to New York right away…”

I placed the card in a conspicuous spot, then scheduled an email to Margaret Morgan—detailing every sordid thing Ryan Morgan and Claire had done over the years.

They had toyed with me for eight years; how could I possibly let them go on living comfortably?

By the time I was finished, Margaret still hadn’t returned.

But people from the Summers family had arrived.

A few bodyguards helped me into a wheelchair, and as I reached the doorway, I glanced back at the hospital room.

“Mr. Foster, are you sure you don’t want to pack anything?”

I shook my head.

Once you decide to cut ties, you cut them cleanly.

Those who aren’t worth it—and the lies that come with them—should be left entirely in the past.

Meanwhile, up on the eighth floor, Claire Morgan was being scolded mercilessly by her mother.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, she shot to her feet.

“Mom! How many times do I have to tell you?! Adrian was the one who pushed Ryan! If I hadn’t pulled him away in time, he might have—”

She stopped abruptly, yanking the blanket off Ryan’s legs to reveal blotches of bruising.

Margaret took one look at the fading marks and let out a cold laugh.

“Claire Morgan! Adrian is your boyfriend! Do you have any idea he was in a coma for three full days, with the bones in his leg completely crushed? And here you are, fussing over someone who doesn’t even have a real injury!”

“What?!”

Claire frowned.

“He was hurt that badly? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

To say she wasn’t worried at all would be a lie.

All these years, whether in the company or in her daily life, Adrian Foster had always been dedicated to her.

But sometimes she spoiled him too much, often making sarcastic remarks about him and Ryan.

And this time, he had even dared to hurt Ryan—so she’d decided to let him cool his heels for a few days, hoping he’d learn a lesson.

Margaret could read her daughter’s thoughts like an open book.

Before she could speak, Ryan Morgan let out a pitiful groan from the bed.

“Claire… Adrian must not have meant to push me. You should go check on him—I’ll be fine…”

Seeing his frail act, Claire quickly sat back down to comfort him.

“Mom, Adrian is far too calculating. I’m sure he’s just pretending to be pitiful in front of you to avoid taking responsibility!”

“I bet he’s even bribed the doctors here…”

But Margaret knew the truth well.

Adrian Foster might be decisive and commanding in the business world, but the man couldn’t even bring himself to kill a chicken—how could he possibly have plotted to harm someone?