When their parents passed away, both Ruben and Millie were still children, and their uncle took control of the company.

From that point on, Ruben became more than just an older brother. He grew into a guardian who watched over her every step. As she grew up, he shielded her from hardship and indulged her whenever he could.

Since childhood, he had dreamed of becoming a doctor. However, after injuring his hand, that future slipped out of reach. At nearly the same time, their uncle had mismanaged the company to such an extent that it was close to ruin, and Ruben had no option but to return and take responsibility.

Despite pouring his energy into saving it over the past few years, the decline of the company continued, and his efforts could not fully reverse the damage.

Standing inside the apartment, Ruben examined the surroundings carefully. The longer he looked, the more his expression tightened. "Come back home," he said with quiet insistence. "My little princess should not be staying in a place like this."

Gently, Millie shook her head. "It is really fine. The space may be small, but it is located downtown, and transportation is convenient," she said. Then her tone softened. "Right now, I just need some time by myself."

She knew how much strain the company had already placed on him. At the same time, she understood that her own heart had not yet recovered. Staying by his side every day would only add to his worries, and she did not want to become another burden he had to carry.

"But..."

He tried to protest, but Millie did not let him continue.

"Ruben, during the three years I was married to Darren, I did not accomplish anything for myself. Now that I am ending it, I want to take this chance to discover what I am capable of."

A faint crease appeared between his brows. "Do you believe I cannot provide for you?" Darren asked, lifting an eyebrow. In his view, she had no reason to concern herself with survival.

Calm but resolute, Millie replied, "Depending on you would certainly make life easy, but comfort can slowly wear a person down." She wanted to explore the world beyond her narrow routine and gain experiences of her own. Perhaps then her thoughts would not trap her so easily.

Although Ruben fell silent, the unease in his eyes remained.

To reassure him, Millie lifted her hand as if making a promise. "I will not act recklessly," she said firmly.

After studying her for a moment, Ruben asked quietly, "So you truly intend to end things with Darren?" He knew better than anyone how deeply she had once loved Darren.

Without hesitation, Millie gave a small nod.

Doubt still lingered in his expression, yet Ruben chose not to press further for fear of upsetting her. Instead, he reached out and gently tousled her hair. "Whatever path you choose, I will stand behind you."

Moved by his words, Millie wrapped her arms around him once more. "Thank you, Ruben," she said gently.

No matter how stubborn or unreasonable she had been in the past, he never once turned his back on her. Whenever she needed him, Ruben showed up without hesitation and without conditions.

Instead of ordering takeout, he went into the kitchen and prepared a meal for her himself. They sat across from each other and shared lunch in a calm and familiar silence. Only after confirming that she truly seemed steady did he finally take his leave.

Once the door closed behind him, the apartment grew overwhelmingly quiet. To break the stillness, Millie switched on the television and let the noise fill the room. She had been seriously considering what direction her life should take next, yet somewhere between those thoughts, she drifted off without noticing.

The sharp sound of her phone ringing startled her awake. By then, night had already settled outside the windows.

Reaching for her phone, she glanced at the screen and saw Brice's name.

Although she could not guess his reason for calling, she answered without delay. "Hello?"

On the other end, Brice spoke in a controlled tone. "Mrs. Evans, I am currently at Verve Hotel with Mr. Evans for a business dinner. I happened to see Mr. Morgan here. He appears to have had too much to drink, and he is alone."

The moment Millie heard that, she rose to her feet. "I will be there right away," she said firmly.

Without wasting time, she grabbed a coat, hurried outside, and signaled for a taxi as quickly as she could.

About fifteen minutes later, she arrived outside the private room at Verve Hotel. Most of the guests had already left, yet the heavy scent of alcohol still lingered in the air.

At the table, Ruben sat slumped forward with his eyes shut. His tie hung loose around his collar, and his shirt was creased and untidy. He had always paid close attention to his appearance, so seeing him in such a state unsettled her.

She called out gently, "Ruben?"

Slowly, Ruben forced his eyes open and focused on her for a brief moment before letting them fall closed again. "Millie… what are you doing here?"

There was no doubt he had drunk far beyond his limit.

Concern tightening her chest, Millie asked, "Why are you by yourself? Where is Jonathan?"

Jonathan Miller, his assistant, was usually never far from him.

"He had other matters to handle," Ruben replied in a sluggish tone.

Gently, she leaned closer to him. "Come on. Let me take you home," Millie said.

With effort, he forced out a response before his eyes drifted shut again. "Give me a moment," he muttered. "Just one more minute… then we can leave."

No matter how hard Millie tried, she could not lift him on her own. Realizing she needed assistance, she stepped out to look for a staff member. As she walked past the restroom corridor, the voices of two middle-aged men reached her ears.

"Ruben Morgan used to stand at the top. Have you ever seen him in a position like this before? These days have not been kind to him."

"Things were different when he still had ties with the Evans family. Back then, people were willing to be patient. Now that his sister is divorcing Mr. Evans, no one feels obligated to be generous. We are running businesses, not charities. We cannot afford to let our investments sink with him."

"That is right."

Hearing those words, a sharp pressure built in Millie's chest as the image of Ruben slumped over the table flashed through her mind. She turned slightly, and her gaze landed on Darren as he stepped out of a private room nearby.

Zoey had been clinging to his arm only moments earlier. As soon as she noticed Millie standing there, she released her grip at once, as though she wanted the gesture to be seen.

With a bright and carefully measured smile, Zoey spoke first. "Millie, what a coincidence. Did you come here looking for Darren?"

For three long years, Millie endured Zoey's petty performance without saying a word.

There was a time when she still cared, and back then it felt like a splinter lodged deep in her heart. However, that feeling had faded, and she no longer wanted to waste energy on it, so she decided that indifference would be her final answer.

Without sparing Darren even a single glance, Millie walked straight past the two of them and made her way toward the private room where Ruben was waiting.

Before she could take another step, someone seized her arm. Darren's fingers tightened around her wrist, and the force of it made pain shoot up her arm.

"You heard Zoey speak to you, so why are you pretending otherwise?" Darren asked, and his voice carried a chill that left no room for refusal.

"What law says I have to respond just because I heard her?" Millie lifted her gaze to meet his. Although her tone remained steady, her words landed with unmistakable distance.

The calm detachment in Millie's expression was nothing like the woman he once knew, and it unsettled Darren more than anger ever could.

Trying to paint Millie as a villain, Zoey stepped forward and arranged her face into something fragile. "Millie, we may not be close, but we are still acquainted. Do you really have to treat me like this?" she asked gently.

A faint curve touched Millie's lips, though there was no warmth in it. "Acquainted? I am acquainted with the stray dog that lingers at the corner of the street. If it starts barking at me, should I rush over and bark in return?"

A crease formed between Darren's brows, and the shift in her tone unsettled him more than he expected.

Color drained from Zoey's face, and she quickly looked to him for support. "Darren, she just said…"

Before Zoey could finish, Millie stepped in and silenced her. "He is not deaf, and he heard every word I said."

For a brief second, Darren stood motionless, as if the ground had shifted beneath him. That pause was all she needed. She tore her arm free from his grasp, spun on her heel, and walked away without granting him another glance.

Left behind, Darren stared at his own hand, and the fading warmth of her skin lingered against his palm. As her figure grew smaller in the distance, his expression tightened, and confusion flickered behind his eyes.

In the past, she would have rushed toward him the instant he appeared, whether to argue or to plead, because she had never treated him like a stranger.

"Darren, could it be that she is switching strategies since the old ones failed? Maybe she is pretending not to care so that you will chase her." Zoey broke into his thoughts as she leaned closer and spoke in a low voice.

Without turning toward her, Darren gave a quiet order to the man beside him. "Brice, take Miss Murray home." His tone was clipped and devoid of warmth, and then he headed after Millie without hesitation.

By the time he caught up, she had already reached Ruben's private room and was about to push the door open. Suddenly, he seized her again, pressed her back against the wall beside the doorway, and trapped her there with his body blocking any escape.

The moment his fingers brushed against her, Millie stiffened, and her body shifted into guarded alertness.

Lowering his voice, Darren glanced toward the door. "Do you want to wake your brother?" he asked.

At those words, she froze, and disbelief flashed across her face. "So Brice called me because you told him to, and you wanted me to walk in on my brother in that state?"

Without offering any apology, Darren met her stare head-on. "I did it because I needed you to face reality."

A bitter laugh escaped her, though there was no humor in it. "Are you planning to use Morgan Group as leverage so I will surrender?" Millie asked. "If that is your plan, then you should stop now, because I will not give you what you want."

Instead of answering directly, Darren lifted his hand and moved it toward her cheek. Before his fingers could reach her, Millie tilted her head away and denied him even that small contact.

Something in her expression had turned hard, and the softness that once lingered there had long since disappeared. Even after their wedding, she had never spoken to him with such cold finality, and that difference struck him more sharply than any insult.

A slow breath left him as his gaze deepened. "Good," he said at last. "I am curious to see how far you can take this."

With that, he stepped back and walked away.

Silence settled after his footsteps faded, and Millie let her back rest against the cold wall as she struggled to steady the storm inside her chest. For several seconds, she remained there, forcing her breathing to slow until her pulse no longer raced. Once she gathered enough strength, she straightened up, turned the handle, and stepped into the room. Inside, Ruben was bent forward and clutching his abdomen as sweat soaked through his shirt, and the strain on his face made it clear that he was barely holding on.

"Ruben!"

...

Before the night was over, Millie had already rushed Ruben to the hospital and refused to leave his side. Only then did she learn the full truth, because he had been drinking day after day just to secure investors, and his stomach had been bleeding for quite some time without proper treatment.

Right there in the hospital corridor, she insisted that he remain admitted, and she also made up her mind that she would personally step in to handle Morgan Group's crisis.

Although Ruben tried to shield Millie from the mess and told her he did not want her involved, she would not retreat, and her resolve left him with no choice but to let her take a chance.

While they were heading to the restaurant the next evening, Jonathan approached her and carefully placed a folder in her hands. In a cautious tone, he said, "Ms. Morgan, this file contains detailed information about Mr. James, the client we are scheduled to meet tonight. Mr. Morgan has spoken with him several times in the past, but the man is extremely calculating, and his demands are high. I do not believe this discussion will be simple."

Understanding flickered in Millie's eyes as she accepted the folder from him. "I am aware of the situation," she replied calmly. "Convincing anyone to step forward and support Morgan Group at a time like this was never going to be simple."

Long before this meeting, she had already measured the depth of the crisis and braced herself for whatever resistance might come.

Guided by a server, the two of them made their way down the hallway toward the private room that had been reserved.

Just outside the door, Millie paused briefly and drew in a steady breath. Composure settled over her features, and a polished smile replaced the tension on her face as she reached for the handle and pushed the heavy door inward.

Bright light spilled across the room, and at the head of the long table sat the man she had come to see, Walter James, who was speaking animatedly with someone beside him.

Leaning back with careless ease, that companion held a cigarette between his fingers as smoke curled upward. Recognition struck her instantly because the man seated there was Darren.

Without warning, Millie's stomach tightened, and a chill traveled through her chest.

Why was Darren sitting here?

Had he arranged this because of her?

A trace of irony brushed against her thoughts. In the past, when she had chased after him, she exhausted every contact just to learn his whereabouts, and even then, she was often turned away without seeing him.

Now that she had decided on divorce, he appeared before her again and again, as though fate had suddenly grown attentive.

With a polite curve to his lips, Walter broke the silence. "Ms. Morgan, you have arrived late," he said, and there was no warmth behind the civility.

Keeping her composure intact, she walked further inside and deliberately checked her wristwatch. "Mr. James, I arrived exactly at the time we agreed upon," she replied evenly.

Instead of arguing, he kept smiling as if the matter amused him. "Jonathan, perhaps Ms. Morgan is unfamiliar with Morgan Group's customs since she is newly involved," he said lightly. "However, you should understand them well."

Adopting the tone of someone delivering guidance, he leaned back in his chair. "For a dinner of this nature, the host is expected to arrive no less than thirty minutes in advance."

Before tension could escalate, Jonathan stepped forward. "Mr. James, that responsibility falls on me, and I owe you an apology," he said in a controlled voice.

With a slight gesture of his hand, Walter stopped him mid-sentence. "That will not be necessary, because I did not come here to receive apologies from an assistant," he said calmly. His gaze shifted toward Millie. "If Morgan Group intends for me to treat this discussion with respect, then demonstrate that sincerity, Ms. Morgan. Share a drink with us first, and then we may proceed with business."

A courteous expression stretched across Jonathan's face, although it was clearly forced. "She has only recently begun handling matters at Morgan Group, so there is still much for her to learn. This oversight was mine, so I hope you can overlook it."

Instead of softening, Walter arched a brow in mild challenge. "And if I choose not to overlook it, what then?" he asked.

Tension crept into Jonathan's features because he understood better than anyone that Morgan Group could not afford to offend a potential ally.

While the exchange continued, Millie's gaze drifted toward Darren. Their wedding had once drawn nearly every prominent figure in the industry, so there was no chance that Walter had been unaware of who she was.

But here he was, repeatedly addressing her as "Ms. Morgan" and placing her in an awkward position, all while Darren observed from the sidelines as if he were merely a spectator.

The intent behind the arrangement was impossible to miss, and Darren made no effort to disguise it.

Breaking the silence herself, Millie reached for a glass and lifted it calmly. "You are correct, Mr. James," she said evenly. "I will have the drink."

Alarm sharpened Jonathan's tone as he stepped closer. "Ms. Morgan—"

Concern pressed on him because he knew how protective Ruben was of her, and he also knew the consequences if this crossed a line.

To reassure him, Millie met his eyes with a quiet look that told him not to interfere. Without hesitation, she tilted her head back and emptied the glass in a single swallow.

A satisfied grin spread across Walter's face. "Very good," he said as he brought his hands together in applause. "That spirit deserves another round."

Without waiting for her response, he personally filled a second glass to the brim and placed it in front of her.

Concern sharpened Jonathan's expression as he stepped forward once more. "Mr. James—" he said, already anticipating trouble.

Before he could continue, Walter dismissed him with a casual wave. "It is a tradition," he said lightly. "Three glasses, no exceptions."

Heat was already spreading through her stomach, yet Millie reached for the glass anyway. "It is alright," she replied, steadying her voice despite the burn.

Only after the third glass was drained did everyone finally take their seats.

While Jonathan attempted to shift the focus toward the contract, Walter smoothly sidestepped every effort and then redirected the attention back to her. With deliberate ease, he suggested that she raise a toast specifically to Darren.

If humiliation were a skill, Darren had mastered it long ago.

Alcohol had never been her strength, and the effects began to surface quickly as her thoughts blurred and nausea twisted in her gut. Unable to endure it any longer, she offered a brief excuse and left the private room, hoping the cool air outside would steady her senses.

From his seat, Darren observed the uneven rhythm of her steps, then quietly set his glass aside. Once in the hallway, he closed the distance behind her and caught her by surprise, sliding an arm firmly around her waist to stop her from moving forward.

It had been so long since they had stood this close that the memory felt distant. Once, that kind of proximity would have made her heart race, yet now all she felt was a wave of revulsion rising in her chest.

With what strength she had left, Millie pushed against him and tried to break away, but the gap between them was undeniable, and the alcohol in her system made her movements slower and weaker.

Fear crept into her voice as she called out, "Jonathan!"

Calm and unhurried, Darren tightened his hold. "There is no point," he said evenly. "Walter is keeping him occupied, and this room is fully soundproofed, so no one will hear you."

At once, Millie went still.

Mistaking her silence for surrender, Darren leaned closer and lowered his tone. "Now you understand, do you not? Unless I give my approval, you could drink until you collapse tonight, and Morgan Group would still walk away empty-handed."

Before his last word faded, a sharp surge of pain shot through his foot. Millie had driven the pointed heel of her stiletto straight down onto him.

Air rushed from his lungs as he drew in a sharp breath through clenched teeth.

The instant his grip loosened, Millie twisted free and hurried down the corridor without looking back. She barely made it a few strides before her momentum carried her straight into someone solid.

"Watch your step," a deep, smooth voice said above her.

Unsteady, Millie tilted her head up and found herself staring at a man whose features were so refined that they demanded a second glance.

Alcohol blurred the edges of her vision, and she blinked several times while shaking her head in an attempt to clear it.

Even through the haze, she could see that he was strikingly attractive, and there was something especially distracting about his lips.

Whether it was the liquor clouding her judgment or the anger still simmering in her chest, her hand rose without much thought. Lightly, her fingers brushed against his mouth as she muttered, "You look like you are a good kisser."

Reason had clearly taken a step back.

Amusement flickered across his face, and a slow smile curved at the corner of his lips. "Is that so?" he replied playfully. "Would you like to test that theory?"

From behind them, Darren's voice cut sharply through the hallway. "Millie!"

The sound of his voice should have grounded her, yet instead it sparked something reckless and defiant inside her. Acting on impulse, Millie stood up and pressed her lips against the stranger's.