The Ultimate Cure: A New Husband

To settle a debt of gratitude, Adriana Adler left her first love and married Chris Slater—a man who, by all appearances, was paralyzed from the waist down. For five years of marriage, he had been her husband. Before that, he'd been the protector she'd known since they were kids. She played her part as his devoted wife—the quiet shadow behind his wheelchair. Chris was certain that no matter how openly he doted on his ex-fiancée—who had just returned from overseas with a child—Adriana would never leave him. What he didn't know was that in Adriana's heart, only obligation remained. The love had died years ago. The day the truth came out, she set the divorce papers calmly in front of him. He panicked. His eyes burned as he grabbed for her, desperate, clinging like she was the only thing keeping him grounded. Adriana looked down at his legs—standing firm and strong—and felt a deep, icy quiet fill her chest. Five years of lies. Five years stolen from the man she truly loved. There would be no forgiveness. The once-untouchable Chris dropped to one knee, his eyes red-rimmed and raw. "Adriana… you're all I have left." Her expression didn't waver. Not a flicker of softness crossed her face. She stepped back toward the man she'd never stopped loving, her voice steady. "But you're not all I have, Chris." He was the power player all of high society scrambled to please—the one who'd lit up her younger years. He'd always assumed she would love him forever; it never crossed his mind she might walk away. But the poised, mixed-heritage gentleman who'd loved her all along said nothing. He simply slid a priceless diamond ring onto her finger. This was the day he had waited five years for. This was the happiness Adriana should have had all along. Chapter 1 "If you want to reconcile with her and start over, I can step aside and make it happen." Adriana Adler clenched her fists tightly, long lashes lowered as she looked at the man in the wheelchair. At her words, the gloom in Chris Slater's eyes instantly froze over, a thin layer of ice forming—cold enough to chill the air. "Do you regret marrying me?" he asked. She answered without hesitation. "No. Grandma Rosie raised me. I owed her my life." "So you married me out of gratitude? Out of pity?" Chris lifted his gaze, sharp and piercing, his handsome face dark with suppressed anger. Though he was seated in a wheelchair, the pressure radiating from him was overwhelming. Under his stare, Adriana's heart fluttered uneasily. She bit her lip and lowered her head. Five years ago, a car accident had left Chris paralyzed in both legs. At the time, he had a fiancée. She had a boyfriend of her own. After Chris's fiancée annulled the engagement, Grandma Rosie—terminally ill—knelt before Adriana and begged her to marry him. Adriana had no choice. When she was eight, both her parents died. It was Grandma Rosie—her parents' mentor—who found her wandering the streets and took her in, giving her a home. After the wedding, Grandma Rosie passed away in peace. Agreeing to the marriage had indeed been an act of repayment. But over five years of living together, Adriana had grown used to Chris's presence—so used to it that dependence quietly took root. He was her only family in this world. Her only tie. She had once thought that spending her life this way wouldn't be so bad… until a week ago. Chris's former fiancée, Joan Hill, returned to the country—bringing with her a little boy just over four years old. The boy had the Slater family's unmistakable traits: pale skin, deep-set eyes, and rosy, thin lips. Chubby as he was, his bearing was uncannily similar to the Slater brothers'. Dean Slater, Chris's eldest brother, had been married for eight years and shared a loving relationship with his wife. There was no chance he had cheated with his younger brother's fiancée. That meant only one thing. The child had to be Chris's. "What about that child?" Adriana asked. "I'll handle it," Chris replied. Clearly unwilling to continue the discussion, he turned toward the housekeeper, Heidi Ebanks, who stood at the entryway. "What is it?" "Miss Hill and the child are here." Heidi had already been inside for half a minute. Sensing the tense atmosphere, she hadn't dared interrupt. Chris's brows relaxed, his expression softening. "Chris!" As soon as Heidi finished speaking, a small figure darted in from outside and flung himself into Chris's arms, nearly knocking Heidi over. "Edward, mind your manners," Joan said as she followed in, smiling indulgently. Her gaze clung to Chris, brimming with tenderness. "Chris, thank you for taking us in." Jimmy Barton, the Slater family driver, carried in two large suitcases. Chris instructed him to take them to the room on the left on the third floor. Adriana frowned slightly. No one had told her that Joan and her son were coming. So this was Chris's "arrangement"—moving them into the house without even discussing it with her? She opened her mouth to speak. The third floor was where she and Chris lived; guests always stayed on the second. In the end, she said nothing. Chris was already deep in conversation with Joan and the boy, as if Adriana didn't exist. The three of them looked more like a family. Standing there, she seemed like the outsider. She turned to leave. After just two steps, Chris called out to her. "Adriana, go prepare the room and make sure Joanie and Edward are comfortable." Joanie. They must be really close. Adriana stopped short. "I'm tired. I'm going to shower and sleep." She took care of Chris because of her promise to Grandma Rosie. But serving Joan and her son—how was that any different from being a maid? Besides, since when did the lady of the house make the bed for an intruder? "It's fine. Heidi can handle it," Joan said lightly. She took out a jewelry box and generously handed it to Heidi. "Heidi, this is a niche brand I brought back from overseas. It's for you." Heidi recoiled as if she'd seen a ghost, waving her hands repeatedly. "No, no, no—this is my job." Before Joan could say another word, Heidi took the stairs three at a time toward the third floor, forgetting entirely that there was an elevator. Joan awkwardly withdrew her hand. "Chris, it seems Edward and I aren't very welcome." Chris replied gently, "Nonsense! Adriana has always cared about you and Edward." Adriana pretended not to hear and walked toward the elevator. It wasn't her who cared. It was Chris. Ever since Joan and her son returned, the usually cold and distant Chris seemed like a different person. He took Joan everywhere, personally selecting gifts for her and Edward. One entire wall was filled with her handbags and jewelry; one whole room overflowed with the boy's toys. He had never been this attentive to anyone before. That was when Adriana knew—everything had changed. "Ms. Adler, Chris said you've always wanted a child. You'll like Edward," Joan's voice came from behind. Adriana didn't turn around. "As long as Chris likes him," she said. Then she stepped into the elevator. So Chris had always known she wanted a child. She had never mentioned it, afraid it would burden him psychologically. He knew—and simply pretended not to. As the glass elevator slowly ascended, under the bright lights, a softness and tenderness appeared in Chris's eyes—something Adriana had never once seen directed at her. For five years, she had cared for him in every possible way, personally handling everything. Yet, he had never shown her even a trace of such concern. Somewhere along the way, she had forgotten that she didn't have to live like this. The elevator stopped on the third floor. Joan's voice drifted to her ears. "Five years ago, my parents forced me to break off our engagement and sent me abroad. After I left, I found out I was pregnant with your child. He's our flesh and blood. I couldn't give him up." Her voice choked with emotion. She crouched down, burying her head against Chris's knees, her body trembling. Chris slowly raised a hand and rested it on her shoulder. Joan looked up, tears filling her eyes, fragile and pitiful. "I thought once Edward was older, my parents would accept him. But the moment I returned, they cut off my cards and threw us out. Chris, I wouldn't have come to trouble you if I had any other choice. I'm not afraid of hardship, but Edward is still so young…" Chris brushed her cheek with his thumb, wiping away her tears. "I'm here. Don't be afraid." Standing by the third-floor railing, Adriana watched the scene, a chill spreading through her chest. Her nails scraped unconsciously against the railing, nearly snapping. "Madam, don't worry. I'll stand on your side," Heidi said softly, appearing beside her at some point, her eyes full of sympathy. She had worked for the Slater family for over twenty years, first serving Madam Rosie. Before passing away, Rosie had instructed her to continue looking after Chris and Adriana. Heidi had watched Adriana grow up and knew she was a kind, sensible child. Adriana pressed her lips together and smiled faintly. Chris wasn't an object. He was a living person. If she had to compete with Joan for "ownership," that meant Chris had never truly belonged to her in the first place. She had never had much sense of security. If something wasn't entirely hers, she wouldn't want it. Better than clinging and worrying, only to suffer more in the end. … Late at night, just as Adriana was drifting into sleep, Chris pushed the door open. He sat in his wheelchair, freshly showered and changed into pajamas. The house had a bathroom specially designed for him, along with a deaf-mute male caregiver who attended to him. Out of habit, Adriana got up and helped Chris onto the bed. The wheelchair was a custom-made, high-tech model that could meet all his needs, but he preferred her care. She lay down beside him, her chest heavy. With no family of her own, she had always longed for deeper bonds. That was why she wanted one or two children. Chris's injury affected only his legs; it didn't prevent him from being intimate as a husband. She had hinted more than once, only to be turned down each time. Eventually, she told herself it was his pride—that he couldn't accept losing control—and never brought it up again. Tonight, from Joan's words, she finally learned the truth. He had always known. Just like now—he was watching coldly from the darkness as her unspoken longing burned, choosing to ignore it. Lost in thought, she suddenly felt a hand grip her waist and pull her backward, drawing her into a warm, broad chest. Chris held her tightly, his chin resting atop her head, gently rubbing against it. "When Joan was pregnant, she was still my fiancée. I didn't cheat. She isn't a homewrecker. This situation put all of us in a difficult position. "Edward is my son. As a man, I can't turn a blind eye. That's my responsibility. "Come on, now. Don't be angry. They're only staying here. That's all." On the eve of marrying Joan, there had been one night when he drank until he lost consciousness. When he woke up, Joan was in his bed. Just that once, and Edward was conceived. Even now, he couldn't tell whether the emotion lodged in his chest was regret or guilt. Adriana pushed his hand away and sat up in the darkness. "Either we divorce," she said calmly, "or you give me a child." Chapter 2 This was the first time Adriana had made a firm demand of Chris. After a long silence, his low, hoarse voice sounded in the darkness. "Wait a little longer—until my legs recover." Her throat felt dry as she spoke, as if murmuring in a dream. "I don't mind doing the work myself." She had already waited five years. She couldn't afford to wait another five. Chris sat up and wrapped his arms around her from behind, his warm breath brushing against her neck. "Adriana, there's plenty of time ahead. I want our first time to be perfect." Adriana gave a bitter smile. She had known it would be like this. Chris was too clever. With her, his injured legs were an absolute shield—an untouchable excuse. He was certain she had no way to push him. "What about Edward?" she asked. "Are you going to let him be an illegitimate child forever?" She didn't like Joan, but the kid was innocent. She had lost her parents at eight. During the half year she drifted between relatives' homes, she endured endless coldness and rejection. Later, she was brought to the Slater family estate and raised by Grandma Rosie. From then on, her life was comfortable and well provided for. Even so, she still missed her parents and longed for a family of her own. The man behind her loosened his hold and slowly lay back down. He said nothing for a long time. The thick darkness was like a swamp, swallowing them both. Adriana remained motionless. "Let's get a divorce, Chris. That way, you can have a complete family." She wasn't incapable of leaving him. Perhaps, deep down in the darkest corner of her heart, a voice had already been screaming for her to go. By Chris's side, she played the role of the perfect wife, living a life that no longer felt like Adriana's own. After the divorce, she could still fulfill her promise to Grandma Rosie—as family. A cold laugh came from behind her, frost spreading through the room. "Adriana, who gave you the right to arrange my life? Remember this—only a home with you in it is the home I want." His tone grew calm, yet a chill crept up her spine. It felt as though a wild beast lurked in the dark, staring at her with naked possessiveness, claiming her as its own. This Chris felt terrifyingly unfamiliar. "Chris!" Joan's anxious voice suddenly rang out from outside the door, startling Adriana. For the first time, she was glad to hear Joan's voice. "Joan, what is it?" Chris asked hoarsely, faintly suggestive. "It's nothing. Sorry for disturbing you," Joan said, choking back tears. Footsteps hurried away outside. Chris quickly settled back into his wheelchair. He pushed open the door at the other end of the hallway. Edward was curled up in Joan's arms, both of them crying, their faces streaked with tears. "What happened?" "Edward had a nightmare. He kept calling for his dad." Joan turned her face away, avoiding his gaze. Chris took Edward from her arms. "Edward, I'm here." "The monster was chasing me. I called for Daddy to save me, but I don't have a dad…" Edward clutched his clothes, crying heartbrokenly. "I'm sorry. I panicked—I didn't know you were…" Joan said, glancing sideways at Chris, her eyes full of grievance. Guilt rose unbidden in Chris's chest. On impulse, he whispered, "Joan, you're the only woman I've ever been with." A flash of joy passed through Joan's eyes, vanishing just as quickly. After the surprise faded, only sadness remained. She tilted her head back, raised a hand to wipe away her tears, and exhaled slowly. One strap of her camisole slid down with the movement. "Chris, I didn't move into this house to break you and Adriana apart." Chris lowered his gaze. Edward had already fallen asleep in his arms. "Don't worry. I won't let you or Edward suffer." "I believe you," Joan said. She leaned forward to take Edward back. Her loose nightdress barely concealed her curves. "You should go back," she said softly. "Don't let Adriana wait too long." Chris's eyes stayed on Edward's face. "All right. Call me if anything happens." Unexpectedly, Edward's hand clutched his clothes tightly, whimpering at the slightest movement. "I'll wake him up," Joan said. "No need." Chris stopped her and moved closer to the bed. "I'll sleep next to him." Joan hesitated. "But Edward is used to my scent. If I'm not here, he won't sleep well." "You don't have to leave," Chris said flatly. "What if Adriana misunderstands?" "She's always been sensible and considerate. She'll understand." As he said this, a faint smile flickered in his eyes. Chris hadn't returned for a long time. As Adriana debated whether to go check on him, those same words came to mind: Sensible and considerate. From childhood to adulthood, "sensible and considerate" had been a label welded onto her. Everyone in the Slater family described her that way. What they didn't know was that, as an orphan living under others' roofs, failing to be sensible meant being ungrateful. And tonight, sensible and considerate as she was, she still couldn't tear that label off. She chose to close her door and retreat into her small, solitary world. She dreamed all night—of her parents beckoning to her, of Grandma Rosie questioning why she hadn't kept her promise, of attending Chris and Joan's wedding… and of a pair of deep blue eyes. When she woke in the morning, her head felt heavy, as if stuffed with too many thoughts. Only Chris was in the dining room. Joan and Edward hadn't gotten up yet. Adriana sat across from him, eating breakfast in silence. He handed her a glass of warm milk. "About last night—" "I'm going out to look for a job," she said. She didn't want to dwell on the night before and decided to state her intentions outright. She had married Chris shortly after graduating from college and had never worked a day in her life. In truth, she only needed to stay by his side when he was home. During weekday mornings and afternoons, her time belonged to her alone. More importantly, she hadn't given up on the idea of divorce. If Joan played her cards well, Chris might eventually bring it up himself. A tree dies if it's uprooted, but a person can flourish in a new environment. Whether or not the divorce went smoothly, she wasn't going to stay home and compete with Joan. Chris froze for a moment, then rejected it flatly. "No." Driven by some twisted instinct, he subconsciously resisted letting Adriana leave his sight. She didn't back down. "Then have Joan take her son and move out. I don't want to see them." Chris frowned. "Adriana, is this your delayed teenage rebellion?" From childhood to now, she had never once defied him. Adriana set down her utensils, wiped her mouth, and lifted her clear, steady eyes. "Chris, please respect me." Seeing the stubborn resolve on her face, he reluctantly gave in. "Fine. I'll arrange a position for you at my company." She had never worked before, was soft-hearted, and too trusting. He didn't believe she could survive in the workplace. Let her taste hardship, he thought. Once she'd had enough of the real world, she would naturally come back. "No need. I already have an interview scheduled." Adriana had never planned to work at Chris's company. She was leaving—not running toward him. Chris seemed to care about her, but the moment he couldn't let go of Joan and her son, he had already made his choice. Irritated, Chris tossed his fork into the plate. Adriana ignored him, put on her heels, and walked out. Appeasing him was no longer her responsibility. That was now Joan's role. Chris rubbed his brow and called his assistant. "Notify all the companies," he said coldly. "No one is allowed to hire Adriana." Chapter 3 When Adriana arrived at the interview site, her nerves tightened despite herself. The Sanctity Group had numerous subsidiaries. The position she was interviewing for was in bio-intelligent machinery—the group's core business. Although she had kept up with the field since graduating, continued studying on her own, and even published papers in international journals, she ultimately lacked real work experience. Five years of staying home to care for Chris had left her almost completely disconnected from society. If it weren't for her best friend, Bella Moss, pulling strings for her, she wouldn't even have landed the interview. During the interview, the interviewer skimmed her résumé and asked several technical questions. Adriana felt she answered them fairly well, yet the man's expression never shifted from mild indifference. "Miss Adler, there's no doubt your professional foundation is excellent," he said calmly. "But with a five-year gap and zero work experience, I'm afraid you don't meet our position requirements. We're recruiting high-end talent." "Could you give me a chance?" Adriana pressed. "Just one month of probation. I don't even need a salary during that time." She didn't want to give up so easily. From a long-term career perspective, Sanctity was unquestionably her best option. "Miss Adler, there are plenty of people who want to intern here for free," the interviewer replied. "Your overall profile isn't more competitive than theirs." He set her résumé aside. In his eyes, the young woman in front of him was nothing more than a book-smart ornamental piece—far from meeting Sanctity's standards. "I still have work to attend to. You may go." Watching his unfeeling retreating figure, Adriana shrugged helplessly and picked up her résumé. She felt a twinge of disappointment, but she wasn't discouraged. Sanctity was an industry giant. It was normal not to get in. Bella had told her—start with the best companies. If you're rejected, then lower your sights. [Bella, Sanctity turned me down. Boohoohoo…] She sent the message to Bella in the elevator. As she stepped out with her head lowered, the corner of her eye caught a flash of striking golden-brown hair in the adjacent VIP elevator. She instinctively looked over, but the doors had already closed. She dismissed it as her imagination and walked on absentmindedly, not even noticing when her résumé slipped from her hand and fell to the floor. By the time she realized and went back to look for it, it was gone. When she returned home, she wondered if she had walked into the wrong place. The floor was piled with toys, the décor completely transformed. Several of Joan's paintings hung on the walls. The minimalist style had been replaced by something flamboyantly artistic. It no longer felt like a home—more like a niche daycare run by some eccentric curator. Chris, who should have been at the office, was sitting with Edward, building blocks together. Joan was hanging a brightly colored oil painting on the wall. Adriana froze for a moment. Perhaps this was what a home truly looked like—filled with traces left by its occupants, not meticulously arranged like a model house. She stepped around the pile of toys and hurried toward the study, planning to reprint her résumé and prepare for the next interview. "Well? Did the job hunt fail?" Chris looked up at her, a teasing smile on his lips, as though he had already expected the outcome. "Failing once doesn't mean anything," Adriana replied stubbornly, her tone betraying no sadness. "I had my assistant arrange a light position for you," Chris said. "Come to the company with me tomorrow." "No need. I'll find a job on my own." Chris dropped the block in his hand, his expression darkening. "Adriana, you can rely on me completely." "Chris," Joan chided softly as she sat down beside him, naturally holding onto his arm. "Adriana isn't a child. She has the right to choose." She turned to Adriana with a gentle smile. "Adriana, if you ever need help, just say the word. I have plenty of friends who run companies." Joan no longer addressed her as "Miss Adler," but instead mimicked Chris's tone, calling her "Adriana" at every turn. Adriana's gaze fell on the oil painting—Joan holding Edward as a swaddled infant. Mother and son hung there openly, bold and dazzling. "Then you can find a job for yourself," Adriana said coldly, "instead of living in someone else's house." Her tone was sharp. Joan's face immediately turned an ugly shade. "Adriana, I don't want to hear comments like that again," Chris said. His voice wasn't harsh, but the reprimand was unmistakable. Adriana tightened her grip on her handbag strap. Self-mockery flickered in her eyes as a tide of bitterness surged in her chest. Just then, Heidi came in through the back corridor, breaking the awkward tension in the living room. "Madam, where should I put those flowers?" Adriana followed her gesture toward the garden. The lawn was crowded with flowerpots of all sizes. "Weren't they always kept in the greenhouse?" she asked. "Why move them out?" Heidi glanced at Joan, her face dark, and said nothing. "Joan wants an art studio," Chris said. "The glass room has the best lighting." As soon as he finished speaking, Joan let out an exaggerated cry. "Oh! I only mentioned that the glass room had great light. I didn't know it was your greenhouse. Should I give it back to you?" She sighed lightly. "It's all Chris's fault—he didn't explain it clearly and just turned it into my studio." Chris replied calmly, "Those flowers can be kept outdoors. At most, we'll build a few more flower racks." "Forget it," Adriana said to Heidi. "Give them away. I don't want them anymore." She had thought she was long past living under someone else's roof. Only now did she realize she wasn't. In the Slater family, she was just like those flowers—unable to even hold onto a greenhouse, only allowed to stay obediently where she was placed. "How could that be?" Heidi protested. "Those flowers were all tended so carefully by you, Madam." "I'll be working from now on," Adriana said. "I won't have time to take care of them." Even Heidi knew how much those flowers meant to her. Yet Chris hadn't cared at all. If not for Joan's appearance, Adriana wouldn't have realized how worthless her life over the past five years had been. She strode into the elevator, forcing herself not to look back. But the elevator had glass walls. In the reflection, she saw the flowers scattered across the lawn. Chris withdrew his gaze from the elevator and instructed Heidi, "Keep them for now. Have someone build some nice flower racks and hire a professional gardener to take care of them." He had seen the reluctance and resentment in Adriana's eyes and couldn't help lowering his head with a faint smile. That once-obedient little girl now dared to sulk with him. Just a few pots of flowers—hardly worth getting upset over. … Sitting in front of her computer, Adriana couldn't focus. Her mind kept drifting back to that distant figure from long ago. She had intended to revise her résumé, but before she realized it, she was sketching on an A4 sheet instead. Golden-brown tousled hair. Clear blue eyes. The face of a young man gradually formed on the sheet. "Zzz—" A sudden jet of water shot in from the doorway, splashing onto the keyboard and soaking the drawing. Adriana hurriedly shut down the computer and shoved the paper under a few books. Edward burst in, brandishing a water gun. "Pew pew pew! I'm going to shoot you dead!" Water sprayed everywhere, drenching documents, books, and Adriana's clothes. "You can't play in here," she said, trying to stop him. "I want to!" Edward shouted, lifting the water gun and spraying straight at her eyes. Adriana dodged, grabbed his collar, snatched the water gun away, and tossed it into the trash. Edward opened his mouth and wailed. "Waaah! You're a bad person! I'm going to kill you!" Her head felt like it was about to explode from the noise. She stiffened her face and warned him sternly, "No water guns inside the house. Do you understand?" "This is my house! I'll play if I want! Waaaah!" Edward kicked wildly, lashing out at her. Adriana dragged him toward the door. Suddenly, he clamped down on the back of her hand and bit her hard. She sucked in a sharp breath and loosened her grip. Unsteady on his feet, Edward fell to the floor the moment she let go. "Waaah!" He sprawled on the ground, rolling and crying. The noise carried downstairs. Joan rushed up and scooped him into her arms. "Edward, what happened?" He cried even louder. "She pushed me! My head hurts so much…" "What's going on?" Chris frowned as he looked at Adriana's pale face. His gaze dropped to her hand, where faint traces of blood were visible. Before he could look more closely, Joan stepped in front of him. "Chris, we need to take Edward to the hospital." "Let's go." Chris took the crying Edward into his arms, and the three of them went downstairs. The cries quickly faded. Adriana stared at the blood and bite marks on her hand, tears welling from the pain. Heidi turned pale at the sight. "Oh my goodness! Shouldn't you get a rabies shot for this?" Adriana laughed despite herself. If she divorced, she wondered whether Heidi could come with her. "It's fine. Have Damien help me clean the wound." Heidi muttered unhappily, "Honestly, sir didn't even think to take Madam along to the hospital." To say she didn't care would be a lie. A quiet loneliness settled in Adriana's heart. It wasn't about love. It was the loneliness of realizing she was about to lose another home. She didn't have much. Chris was one of the few things she had thought she could count as hers. He was the one she grew up with, the husband she'd been married to for five years, and—aside from that person—the most important presence in her life. That faint desolation was quickly washed away by joy. As her wound was being bandaged, a new email popped up on her phone. [Dear Adriana Adler, Congratulations on being hired by our company. Please report to the Human Resources Department tomorrow before 10:00 a.m.] The sender was the Human Resources Department of the Sanctity Group. Chapter 4 Chris returned after dinner with Joan and Edward. Adriana wasn't used to eating alone, so she asked Heidi to keep her company at the table. Chris noticed the bandage on her hand. "What happened to your hand?" "I was bitten by Edward this morning." Adriana saw no reason to hide it. A child's misconduct reflects the parent's failure to teach. As Edward's biological father, Chris bore responsibility for disciplining him. "Chris, Edward isn't usually like this," Joan said, nudging the boy forward. "Hurry up and apologize to Adriana." Edward clung to her leg and refused to let go, shouting, "She threw away my water gun and hit me! I got scared, so I bit her!" "Shut up! This is Adriana's house. You have to listen to her, or you'll get kicked out!" What a pointed remark. Five years apart, and Joan hadn't changed one bit. Adriana rolled her eyes silently. "He's just a child. Don't scare him," Chris said, then looked at Adriana, a hint of entreaty in his eyes. "Adriana, Edward is my son after all. He's mischievous because he takes after me. Be more patient with him." Joan chimed in softly, "Adriana, I apologize on Edward's behalf. I'm sorry." Anyone watching would think they were a family of three, Adriana thought. Since the parents refused to rein in their unruly child, there was no point in her inviting trouble for herself. But she wasn't about to let that bite go unanswered. "It's fine. Chris will compensate me." She removed the bandage and extended her hand toward Chris. "Look." Chris's brow furrowed, his expression darkening. He'd assumed a bite from a four-year-old wouldn't amount to much. But the skin on Adriana's hand was torn open, two deep rows of teeth marks stark against her fair skin. It looked painful just to see. "What kind of compensation do you want? Name it." "A house." This was the first time Adriana had ever asked Chris for anything. She didn't own a place of her own. The villa her parents had left her had been tricked out of her hands by relatives when she was young—the money never even reached her. "Fine. Pick whichever you like." Chris agreed without hesitation. She'd been wronged; buying her a house to make it up to her was only right. A flash of irritation crossed Joan's eyes, though her smile remained intact. "Chris, you treat Adriana so well." Adriana let out a soft laugh. "After all, we were both raised by Grandma Rosie, and we've been married for five years. We're the closest people to each other in this world." Even as she said it, she lacked conviction. Chris's parents and hers had died in the same plane crash. That year, she was eight and Chris eleven. As children, they'd bonded over shared loss, and he'd taken good care of her. As a brother without blood ties, he'd done his duty well. But as a husband—especially after Joan and her son appeared—he'd become hopelessly muddled. She said it only for the momentary satisfaction of provoking Joan. Joan's smile nearly cracked as she cast a resentful look at Chris. He didn't notice and changed the subject instead. "Adriana, come to the company tomorrow morning. I've already arranged everything." "I found a job." Chris smiled faintly. "You don't have to put on a brave front with me. There's nothing shameful about not finding work. I've got your back anyway. Go in for a few days, and if you don't like it, just come home and tend your flowers." A chill crept into Adriana's heart. She replied coldly, "I'm starting work tomorrow." He was so sure she couldn't find a job—it was laughable. If she hadn't spent five years caring for him full-time, she would already have built a career of her own. Joan asked, "Which company is it? Maybe Chris knows someone there." Adriana hesitated. To be honest, she still wasn't sure whether the offer was real. Sanctity was an internationally renowned corporation that countless people dreamed of joining. The interviewer had rejected her outright, yet she'd received an offer email afterward. She'd checked the sender—it really was Sanctity's HR department. While mistakes were unlikely at a company of that caliber, the situation was still strange. Whether she'd truly been hired would only be confirmed after she went in tomorrow. If she named the company now and it turned out to be a mistake, it would be unbearably embarrassing. She didn't want to lose face in front of Chris and Joan. Seeing her hesitation, Chris grew even more convinced she was lying. He'd already had his assistant contact various companies. As for the few major corporations beyond his reach, Adriana wasn't even qualified to submit a résumé. "You don't even know the company name. Don't get scammed. Have Jimmy drive you tomorrow. If it doesn't work out, you can always come back to me." "Thanks, but I won't need that." Adriana stood up and left the "crowded" living room without another word. Every sentence was supposedly for her own good, yet every one of them hurt her. Five years ago, she'd chosen Chris and given up the man she truly loved. Perhaps this was her retribution. Before bed, Chris pushed open the door. "Edward is making a fuss, wants me to sleep with him." Adriana replied with a distracted "Mm," quietly letting out a breath of relief. If he spent the night in Joan's room and then came back to sleep beside her, she'd feel sick to her stomach. At this moment, all she cared about was the job at Sanctity. And the figure she'd glimpsed in the VIP elevator lingered stubbornly in her mind. She must have been missing 'him'—hallucinating, even. After the breakup, he had gone back to his country, Mitaly. There was no way he'd appear in Heatherton City. "Good night." Chris reached out and ruffled her hair. Adriana recoiled into the covers as if shocked by electricity. He froze, his gaze dimming, and left with a dark expression. … The next morning, Adriana left early to avoid Chris. She ate breakfast downstairs at Sanctity Group's building, then waited over an hour before employees began arriving for work. She went to HR and explained her purpose. "The interviewer clearly rejected me yesterday. Are you sure the email wasn't sent by mistake?" The round-faced woman at the desk smiled. "Miss Adler, we don't make such elementary errors. Although the interviewer turned you down, our chairman personally reviewed your résumé and decided to hire you." Adriana was quietly astonished. She couldn't think of anything special about her résumé that would catch the eye of Sanctity's chairman, given the abundance of talent under his command. HR didn't know the reason either—only that there was absolutely no mistake. Adriana received her badge and went up to the ninety-sixth floor where she'd be working. The open-plan office was spacious and bright. A man walked toward her. "Hello, I'm the chairman's assistant, Charlie Kloss." A flash of admiration crossed Charlie's eyes. Anyone personally chosen by Neo Reeves at first glance was clearly no ordinary hire. Adriana shook his hand calmly. "Nice to meet you, Charlie. I'm Adriana Adler. I look forward to working with you." There were two other men and one woman in the office, all secretaries from the executive office. They greeted her one after another, and she responded in kind before lowering her voice to ask, "Charlie, I interviewed for an engineer position—specializing in intelligent powered exoskeletons. Is there some mistake?" For the past five years, she'd been researching precisely this field, all for the day Chris might walk freely again. "Our chairman and CEO, Mr. Reeves, reviewed your résumé and felt you were better suited for a secretary position. That office belongs to Mr. Reeves," Charlie said, pointing to the far end of the open office. At the end stood five or six long wooden steps leading up to an elegant set of double wooden doors. "If the bell on your desk rings, it means Mr. Reeves is calling you." "Understood. Thank you, Charlie." Since she was already here, she decided to take things as they came. Getting into Sanctity at all was a rare stroke of luck. Adriana resolved to establish herself first, then look for an internal transfer when the opportunity arose. She searched online for information about Sanctity's chairman, Neo Reeves. He kept a low profile; she found only a single photo of him giving a lecture at a university. He looked faintly familiar, as though she'd seen him somewhere before, but she couldn't place it. She must have been mistaken. After marriage, she'd had virtually no social life—only keeping in touch with her best friend Bella. Chris never took her to business functions. How could she possibly have met someone as prominent as Neo? Chapter 5 After work, Adriana met her best friend, Bella, for dinner. They hadn't seen each other in half a month and had plenty to talk about. "So you've really made up your mind to divorce Chris?" Bella asked. She'd grown up with Adriana and knew everything about her. "Joan and her son have already moved into the house," Adriana replied. "If I don't divorce him now, what am I supposed to be in that home?" Bella snorted. "Be the kid's aunt?" Seeing Adriana about to lose her temper, she immediately backed down. "Divorcing him is the right call. You should've done it long ago. What kind of decent marriage lasts five years, and the husband won't touch the wife? "Even the woman next door, whose husband is in a vegetative state, is pregnant with her second child. What's Chris pretending to be—a chaste martyr? Don't tell me he's saving himself for Joan." Adriana fell silent. She didn't mention that Chris had already been sleeping in Joan's room. It was too humiliating. She couldn't bring herself to say it. "Let him do whatever he wants," she said. "I can't accept him anymore anyway." In her heart, Chris was already unclean. Unclean in body, even more so in heart. And she didn't want anything unclean. Bella looked relieved. "That's the Adriana I know. Chris should agree to the divorce, right?" "He doesn't." The cup in Bella's hand slammed heavily onto the table—thankfully, it was made of wood. "Is he a psychopath? Or some leftover from feudal times?" Adriana pulled out a napkin, wiped the splashed water from her face, then calmly dried the table. "Bella, keep your voice down. This isn't exactly something to be proud of." Watching Adriana wipe up the water so calmly only made Bella angrier. "He's bullying you because you've always obeyed him. He takes advantage of you being too decent." Adriana turned her wedding ring slowly. "I promised Grandma Rosie." The ring had been part of Grandma Rosie's dowry from her natal family—a priceless antique she'd given Adriana five years ago. To Adriana, it represented Grandma Rosie, not the marriage itself. Bella sighed, her anger dissolving into helplessness. Seventeen years ago, in the dead of winter, little Adriana had been abandoned on the street by relatives and nearly frozen to death. It was Grandma Rosie who took her home. Grandma Rosie had given her the best life, the best education, and more love than anyone else ever had. Before she died, Grandma Rosie had knelt and begged her. In that situation, Adriana had had no choice. It wasn't that she couldn't let go of Chris—it was that she couldn't betray the promise she'd made to Grandma Rosie. Adriana smiled calmly. "What's trapped me was never Chris. It was my own heart—my debt to Grandma Rosie." Setting marriage aside, Chris was still like a brother to her, Grandma Rosie's most beloved grandson. Five years ago, she'd already learned what it meant to be powerless. No matter how difficult things were now, they couldn't be harder than they'd been back then. With Joan's return, her heart had actually become freer. She might have to keep her promise to Grandma, but she no longer needed to be loyal to Chris. Bella turned her cup slowly, regret flickering in her eyes. "Do you remember our senior year of high school? You had a high fever and were hospitalized. Chris was abroad for an important competition, and he still flew back overnight. He stayed by your bed, telling jokes nonstop. You found him annoying, but he didn't dare stop out of fear you'd fall asleep." Adriana tightened her grip on her fork and gave a soft "Mm." She remembered it all. There was no denying how good Chris had been to her back then. "At the time, he genuinely cared about you as his little sister. I even had a brief crush on him," Bella said with a grin. "He was like a gentle, cheerful big brother—he was great." Then she pursed her lips. "Who knew he'd turn out like this—stubborn and impossible." Adriana didn't respond. She picked up the last piece of greens from her bowl and ate it. After wiping her mouth with a napkin, she smiled faintly. "It's all in the past." Those bits of warmth from before had been real. So was the suffocating distance between them now. The two of them talked endlessly, and by the time Adriana got home, it was already past eleven. Chris, who was usually asleep by then, was alone in the living room reading. He wore black loungewear with a thin blanket draped over his knees. In the soft light, his profile looked elegant and aloof. He held a book in both hands, yet hadn't turned a page in a long time—just sat there, gaze lowered, a faint gloom gathering between his brows. After the car accident, his temperament had changed drastically, becoming hard to read. Adriana often felt as though only a shadow of him remained in this world—thin and quiet, like a crescent moon reflected in water, fragile enough to shatter at a touch. "Where did you go?" Chris asked in a low voice, eyes still on the book. "Dinner with Bella." Adriana slipped off her heels and changed into soft house slippers. She hadn't worn heels in a long time. After a full day in them, her feet ached badly. "Do you want me to push you upstairs?" she asked before leaving the living room. Chris set the book aside—his way of agreeing. "Went to Bella to discuss how to divorce me?" he suddenly asked, his tone laced with mockery. Adriana pushed the wheelchair into the elevator, her expression indifferent. "You know it doesn't matter who I discuss it with—unless you…" Chris cut her off coldly. "Don't even think about it." "We've known each other for seventeen years. You should know—I don't let go of what I want." She did know. Even as a child, Chris had been domineering. When they first met, that trait had even frightened her a little. After the accident, his obsession had only deepened. She replied seriously, "I'm a person. Not a thing." More importantly, she belonged to herself. The elevator rose smoothly. Adriana watched their overlapping reflections in the glass wall—one seated, one standing—like strangers to each other. When they got out, she saw Edward standing outside the bedroom door. Without asking anything, she pushed Chris toward him. Joan was being overly cautious. Completely unnecessary. She and Chris had been married five years without anything happening. Nothing would happen now, either. Chris watched Adriana turn and return to her room, then lowered his head and rubbed his brow. "Edward, go find your mom first. I have work to take care of." He took the elevator to the top floor, with Damien following silently. The top floor was a vast, empty hall. Aside from tables, chairs, and sofas, there were only a few astronomical telescopes and two rows of bookshelves. Two of the walls were made of glass. Moonlight from above and city lights below both poured into the space. Chris stood up from his wheelchair and stopped before one of the glass walls, overlooking the brilliantly lit streets of Heatherton City. The noise of traffic faded into silence at this height. Damien stood at a cautious distance in the shadows, eyes occasionally flicking toward the door. Backlit, Chris's tall, dark figure stood straight as a pine. His legs were firm and straight—showing no trace of disability. "You must think I'm a despicable bastard," he said, "lying to two women. "I owe Joan and Edward too much. If I didn't pretend to be disabled, they wouldn't be living so pitifully. "As for Adriana…" He paused, lit a cigarette, and toyed with it between his fingers. "I have a lifetime with her. She'll understand my difficulties." Outside the door, Adriana froze, her hand stiff on the handle. She couldn't sleep and had come up to look at the stars—never expecting Chris to be here. Chapter 6 "She'll understand my difficulties." That was the sentence Adriana heard as she came up. In this house, the only person Chris would bare his heart to late at night was Joan. The "she" in his words could only be her. What difficulties could Chris possibly have? She didn't understand—and had no desire to. Adriana withdrew her hand from the doorknob and turned to go downstairs. She had no intention of eavesdropping, nor any interest in interrupting them. … The next morning, Adriana left early for work as usual. Being stuck in rush-hour traffic was irritating, but when she thought about the chaos at home, even the blaring horns sounded pleasant—far better than Edward's crying. When she arrived at the office, a middle-aged man wearing thin-rimmed glasses was just coming out of the chairman's office. He wore a sharply tailored black vest suit with a matching tie. His white shirt was fastened with gold cufflinks, and his watch was a pale gold in the same tone. His figure was well maintained, his appearance neat and refined, carrying an air of understated elegance. Charlie introduced him. "Adriana, this is Mr. Reeves." Adriana hurriedly bowed. "Good morning, Mr. Reeves." Neo nodded and walked down the steps at an unhurried pace. "Adriana, if you need anything in the future, come to me. Treat this place like your own home." Every gesture was gentle and cultured. Adriana felt he didn't resemble a businessman so much as a scholar-official from the olden days. "Thank you, Mr. Reeves." She noticed his gaze lingering on her and looked back out of curiosity. The longer she looked, the more familiar he seemed. Yet she was certain she didn't know someone of his stature. Behind their computers, the office staff stole glances and exchanged looks. It was the first time they'd seen Mr. Reeves be this warm toward anyone. Neo withdrew his gaze and strode off. Charlie and the other three secretaries followed. Charlie motioned for Adriana to come along. She picked up her laptop and hurried after them. After the elevator descended a few floors, Charlie followed Neo into a spacious, well-lit conference room. The three other secretaries went into the adjacent room. Adriana followed into the neighboring room and found a seat. The female secretary, Carla Mowinsky, pointed to the headset on the table. "Mr. Reeves will be discussing a collaboration with the CEO of Paradigm Group. We're responsible for recording and summarizing the meeting." "Thank you," Adriana said with a smile, putting on the headset and opening her laptop. Ten minutes later, a deep, magnetic male voice came through the earpiece. The familiar sound ran through her like an electric current. Her heart skipped a beat, and an image flashed through her mind. She only lost focus for a moment before quickly regaining her composure and continuing to take notes. It was her first day at work. She couldn't afford mistakes. Two hours later, the meeting ended. Adriana grabbed her laptop and was the first to rush out, staring anxiously at the tightly closed conference room door. Carla followed her out. "Adriana, we need to hurry back and consolidate the key points. Mr. Reeves wants to review them." Adriana kept looking back as she walked. Even when she stepped into the elevator, no one came out of the conference room. Back at her desk, she searched for Paradigm Group. There was very little information online. It was a multinational group that had risen in the past six months. Its CEO was named Francesco Este, a Mitalian. Adriana had never heard the name. She closed the webpage, feeling slightly disappointed. There were too many people with similar voices. Even Chris and his elder brother, Dean, were hard to tell apart. The rest of the day was busy, leaving her no time to dwell on anything else. Before getting off work, Charlie praised her for summarizing the technical aspects of the meeting exceptionally well. Mr. Reeves wanted her to work more closely with the technical department in the future. The good news swept away her fatigue. Since getting married, she hadn't received affirmation from anyone else. With more than ten minutes left before clocking out, she idly flipped through a magazine Charlie had left on her desk. The first page announced an auction at the Deseigh Cultural Arts Center at 7:30 that evening. Curious, she browsed the items. When Grandma Rosie was alive, she loved collecting vases and jewelry. Influenced by her, Adriana had also begun paying attention to auctions. On the third page, a rose-shaped brooch made of entwined gold wire and set with rubies leapt into view. Adriana's breath caught. Her nose burned as a rush of emotions—like rough stones—scraped painfully against her chest. That was the "Heart of the Rose." It was her mother's favorite brooch when she was alive. Her father had given it to her as a token of love. After her parents' accident, relatives came and many things went missing. Even this brooch disappeared. She had been eight years old then. All she remembered was that her parents didn't even have complete bodies. She clutched the two urns tightly, struggling to stand, while the towering adults pulled at her. An aunt told her to go with her. An uncle wanted to take her home. She was passed back and forth like an object. Within half a year, those same relatives began to resent her, tossing her around from place to place. Only when she grew up did Adriana learn the term for it—devouring an orphan's estate. They fought over property, not the burdensome child she'd been. She stared at the brooch in the magazine, so distressed she could barely breathe. It was as if she'd been dragged back to that year, watching her parents' urns set down carelessly. Adriana clocked out quickly. To avoid traffic, she scanned a shared bike and headed straight for the Deseigh Cultural Arts Center. After drifting between relatives' homes for half a year, she'd inherited nothing her parents had left behind. She had to buy back the "Heart of the Rose". The brooch wasn't an antique. It was just exquisitely crafted, with a ruby of some value. It shouldn't attract sky-high bids. At the Deseigh Cultural Arts Center, Adriana completed the identity verification. After confirming she was the wife of Chris Slater, CEO of Slater Group, the staff didn't require a deposit. "Mrs. Slater, Mr. Slater has already made an online reservation and paid the deposit. This is your bidding paddle." Adriana accepted paddle number 122. Chris had paid the deposit. That meant whatever she bid would be charged to his account. Holding the paddle, she entered the specially arranged hall, determined to reclaim her mother's keepsake. She'd come straight from work without changing clothes. The usher assumed she was an employee bidding on behalf of her boss and led her to a seat near the back corner. Half an hour later, the hall gradually filled up. The auctioneer, dressed in a formal dress, stepped onto the stage, and the room fell silent. According to the magazine, "Heart of the Rose" was the ninth item. Adriana waited anxiously, barely registering the earlier lots. When the auctioneer finally announced "Heart of the Rose," she straightened, the hand holding her paddle trembling slightly. "This is no ordinary piece of jewelry. Every petal you see has been shaped by layers of gold wire, painstakingly wound by hand. "At its core is a 5.21-carat pigeon-blood ruby, pure in color and perfectly set within—becoming the beating heart of this golden rose, a symbol of love's indestructible strength…" Adriana held her breath, eyes locked on the brooch, terrified her mother's keepsake might vanish again. At last, the auctioneer swept her gaze across the room, voice solemn. "Ladies and gentlemen, the starting price for 'Heart of the Rose' is 200 thousand dollars." "210 thousand!" Adriana raised her paddle without hesitation. Cold sweat soaked her palms. Her heart raced as she silently prayed no one would compete with her. In the front row, Chris turned at the sound. Joan followed his gaze. "Chris, you didn't say Adriana would be here." "I didn't know she was coming." Chris's eyes fell on the brooch. The corner of his lips lifted slightly—it was rare for Adriana to like a piece of jewelry. At that moment, Joan, seated beside him, raised her paddle. "250 thousand!" Chapter 7 Adriana only realized Joan and Chris were there when she heard Joan's voice. Chris never came to events like this. Even if there was something he wanted, he would have his assistant bid on his behalf. Tonight, he was here mostly to accompany Joan. Chris spoke calmly. "That's something Adriana likes. Pick something else." "'Heart of the Rose' has a unique design. It would be a huge help to my work in the jewelry industry. I really need it." Joan rested her hand lightly on Chris's knee and pleaded softly, "We can buy Adriana something even better, okay?" Before Chris could respond, Adriana's clear voice rang out from the back. "300 thousand!" Joan lowered her head, disappointment written all over her face. "To Adriana, 'Heart of the Rose' is just a pretty brooch. To me, it's a work of art. Chris, you said that no matter what I liked, you'd give it to me." Chris leaned back against his chair, his expression unchanged. "Go ahead then." Adriana's interest in jewelry had always been fleeting. He could simply buy her a bigger, more expensive gem later. Joan, on the other hand, was well-versed in gemstones and intended to enter the jewelry business. "320 thousand!" A flash of triumph crossed Joan's eyes, her voice lifting unconsciously. "350 thousand." Adriana raised her paddle and increased the bid evenly. Either way, the money came out of Chris's account—marital assets. If Joan dared to use their shared money to bid, Adriana had no reason to hold back. "400 thousand!" "450 thousand!" … Neither side gave way, and the price climbed with each round. After several bids, Adriana called out a staggering figure. "One million." "Chris, Adriana is clearly determined to fight me for it." Joan set down her paddle, her gaze lingering reluctantly on the radiant "Heart of the Rose." "I can't bear to waste your money recklessly. That brooch isn't worth one million. Let her have it." Chris considered for a moment, then motioned to a staff member and spoke to him in a low voice. Having received instructions, the auctioneer did not bring the gavel down right away. "Jewels are easy to come by. Love is not," the auctioneer said solemnly. "Does anyone wish to raise the bid?" Adriana watched the room tensely. As long as no one bid again, her mother's keepsake would finally return to her. At that moment, a staff member leaned over and whispered, "Mrs. Slater, Mr. Slater says his bidding account is not authorized for your use. If you wish to continue bidding, you'll need to pay a separate deposit." Adriana froze. Her paddle drooped in front of her, her fingers curling so tightly they hurt. Her heart plunged into icy water, a dense, biting cold gnawing at her ribs. She instinctively looked toward the familiar figure in the front row. He didn't even turn around. It felt like a slap across the face, leaving her humiliated and exposed. Even when Joan and Edward had moved into the house, she hadn't felt this crushed—this disappointed. "Fine. I'll pay the deposit now." Her voice came out with effort, her throat clogged as if stuffed with damp, rotting cloth, nauseating and suffocating. "But the paperwork takes time," the staff member said hesitantly. "If someone bids one million during that time, then—" "Go. Now." Adriana braced herself against the chair and stood up as the auctioneer's voice floated over. "Due to unforeseen circumstances, if anyone is willing to bid one million—and no further bids are placed—the 'Heart of the Rose' will be sold." "One million!" Joan raised her paddle high, her voice loud and decisive. Adriana halted mid-step, one hand gripping the back of a chair, her face drained of all color. She wouldn't get it. Her entire savings amounted to just two million. Even if there were time, Joan had Chris backing her—she could never outbid them. Helplessness and rage churned in her chest, grievance clogging her throat until she could barely breathe. She stared at the brooch onstage, so achingly familiar, her vision blurring little by little. She was eight years old again, watching her parents' belongings vanish one by one, powerless to stop it. "One million, once! Any higher bids? "One million, twice! "One million—" "1.1 million!" A man hurried in. Before he even sat down, he raised his paddle and called out loudly. "No matter what anyone else bids, I'll add one more increment—until it's mine." All eyes turned toward him. A low buzz of murmurs swept through the room. Some people began to doubt themselves. Was this brooch actually a priceless antique? If not, this was far too strange. The bidding war had already reached one million, and now, a man had announced he was ready to pay any amount for it. The most stunned of all was Adriana. Why was Charlie bidding on the "Heart of the Rose"? "Love is elevated at this very moment!" the auctioneer declared passionately. "Ladies and gentlemen, is anyone else willing to breathe life into love?" His gaze fell on Joan. She was calm, with no intention of bidding again. Chris remained composed. "Joan, you can continue." Joan smiled at him. "No need. Your feelings for me are far more precious than the 'Heart of the Rose.'" She had no real interest in that worthless brooch. Competing with Adriana—that was the real fun. Chris said nothing. Avoiding her gaze, he turned slightly to look toward the back. Adriana sat there blankly, her small face pale, tears pooling in her eyes. Something twisted in his chest—a sharp pain he couldn't quite name. "I'll head back first. If you see anything you like, just bid on it." The last time he'd seen Adriana cry was when Grandma Rosie passed away. It was just a brooch. Did it really matter that much? An assistant came over to push his wheelchair, and Joan stood as well. "I'm not interested in the remaining items either. Let's go together." Chris didn't respond. As he passed Adriana, he stopped—but didn't dare look at her. "Take another look. If there's any jewelry you like, I'll buy it for you. Consider it compensation." Compensation. Again, compensation. To Chris, it seemed everything in the world could be paid off with money. Adriana tipped her head back, forcing the tears away, and took a deep breath. Then she lifted her head and gave him a mocking glance. She said nothing and strode out. Once, Chris had been her anchor. Now, he was the blade outsiders used to stab her. The pain was unbearable—just like losing her mother's keepsake all over again. "Chris, go wait in the car. I'll talk to Adriana," Joan said. At the entrance, she grabbed Adriana's arm. The warmth from earlier was gone, replaced by icy provocation. Her eyes gleamed with smug triumph. "Adriana, after all these years, you still haven't grown at all. You couldn't beat me back then. You still can't now." Adriana laughed coldly. "That's right. You've always liked stealing from me—jewelry, clothes, cheap little trinkets." Anything Adriana liked, anything Chris bought for her, Joan would take. Back then, because she was Chris's fiancée, Adriana didn't want to make a scene and always gave way. They were just trivial things, after all. And every time Joan took something, Chris would compensate Adriana with something even more expensive. But this time was different. This wasn't something expendable. If Joan hadn't deliberately competed with her, she would have secured the "Heart of the Rose" before Charlie arrived. Adriana looked Joan up and down with open disgust, her red lips curling into a scornful smile. "You know, Joan," she said coolly, "only stray dogs enjoy fighting over scraps."