Staring at the green call button flashing on her screen, Willow's heart inexplicably tightened.

When the call connected, the man's low voice drifted through, carrying a hint of something she couldn't name. "This is my number. Save it."

"Okay."

Silence stretched between them.

For someone usually so adept at navigating social situations, her mind had gone completely blank. She didn't understand why she was so nervous.

"It's late. Sleep well! Good night!"

A few seconds later, his voice came through: "Mm."

Theodore stood before his hotel's floor-to-ceiling window, gazing at the harbor in the distance. "Good night," he said softly.

Unfortunately, she'd already hung up.

Early the next morning, Willow woke to an avalanche of messages. They were all about the same thing: Victor had officially announced his girlfriend.

All these years, Victor played around as he pleased, but he'd never brought anyone into the open. The one who'd been by his side longest was only Willow.

So when this news dropped, the whole social circle exploded.

Several friends called to confirm the news, but most were just waiting for the show—to see whether Willow would lose it and run to Victor to humiliate herself.

She ignored the gossip messages. As if possessed, she opened her social media feed.

The first post was a couple photo, clearly edited within an inch of its life.

Victor's expression was casual, without much deep affection. The woman nestled in his arms, however, looked like she'd won the lottery—brows lifted, radiating smug satisfaction.

Willow stared at the photo until her eyes burned. Then she turned off her phone, got up, and went to wash up.

She had something more important to do today.

When she came downstairs, Georgia had already prepared breakfast.

"Good morning, Aunt. Where's Uncle?"

Georgia smiled, ladling porridge for her. "He went to the company early. Theodore really does what he says—the money was deposited last night. Your uncle rushed to cash it out and get paychecks sent first."

So fast!

Willow hadn't expected Theodore to move this quickly. Could his call last night have been about this?

On her way out, she hesitated, then sent Theodore a message: Thank you!

No reply. It sank like a stone.

She didn't mind. Someone like Theodore—how could he possibly sit around waiting for her texts? Their relationship wasn't close enough for instant replies and daily greetings.

But when she arrived at her destination, his message came through: How will you thank me?

Willow stared at those words for a while before typing: When you come back, I'll treat you to dinner.

Again, no reply.

She put away her phone, pushed open the Western restaurant door, and headed straight to the second floor.

By the window, on an expensive leather sofa, someone was already waiting.

In her thirties, Tessa Salazar carried a weariness that didn't match her age.

"Mrs. Salazar, long time no see!"

Willow smiled, placing the blue shopping bag on the table. "For you."

A new release from a luxury brand—no domestic stock, preordered six months ago. She'd originally planned it as her own birthday gift.

Luckily, her birthday hadn't passed yet.

In the past, Tessa would've excitedly torn it open, cooing over it, practically wanting to transfer all her lipstick collection to Willow's face out of gratitude.

Now she barely glanced at it. "Thanks, but I'm not in the mood."

Willow ordered orange juice and studied her. "What's wrong? Who upset our little fairy?"

Tessa picked up the glass beside her and downed all the liquor in one gulp.

After a moment, her dull eyes suddenly brightened. She looked at Willow like she'd found a lifeline. "Will you come somewhere with me?"

Willow had prepared herself to drink and commiserate. She never expected Tessa to drag her along to catch a cheating husband.

The elevator rose. The silver walls reflected their faces.

Both looked worse than the other.

The Mason family had barely survived this crisis. Even with Theodore's investment, they were badly hurt. Willow had wanted to secure the Salazar family's cooperation and discuss expanding production lines with her uncle.

When she'd called Tessa yesterday to arrange this meeting, she'd carefully steered the conversation toward which company the Salazars wanted to partner with next quarter.

As expected—the Sullivan family.

Publicly or privately, she didn't want this deal falling into their hands. She'd planned to make another pitch.

But now...

Whether this affair-busting succeeded or failed, the moment she followed Tessa into that suite, the Salazar contract would slip through her fingers forever.

Ding.

The elevator arrived. Soft carpet swallowed the click of their heels.

Willow followed Tessa to the innermost suite door.

The keycard touched the sensor. The lock clicked open. Tessa gripped the handle and pushed.

A woman's moans and a man's low laughter drifted from the bedroom.

Willow didn't need to look to know what was happening inside.

Tessa was already losing control. Her shoulders trembled violently, her grip on the golf club shaking.

Eyes reddening, she said flatly, "Sorry to trouble you, Willow. Wait outside for me."

Willow stood at the doorway, watching that thin, fragile back. She felt the urge to help, but a few seconds later, reason won out. She walked away.

Her own life was already a mess. What right did she have to play savior?

The woman's screams erupted from the room—hysterical.

Each accusation struck like a drill to the heart, hitting the weakest places buried deep inside.

Willow leaned against the wall, staring at the expensive antique painting across from her. Her heart felt like it was being fried in hot oil.

This scene felt familiar.

Chaotic memories tangled together like yarn—the more she pulled, the worse the knots became.

She forced herself to calm down. Her phone's notification sound pulled her from the past.

Another entertainment headline. This time, the photo was crystal clear.

Theodore Farley.

Looking at that striking face, Willow blanked for a moment. Only then did it hit her—she was already married to him.

A sharp smack yanked her back to reality.

She turned toward the room. Tessa was struggling up from the floor, clawing at the man again.

Spencer Salazar cursed in pain. "You crazy woman, let go!"

In the scuffle, Tessa was flung aside. Her head struck the table corner. Bright red blood immediately ran down her temple, dripping onto the carpet.

The two culprits watched coldly, making no move to help.

Willow even heard a trace of laughter.

The closest person had torn off his mask, yet the one driven mad was the one hurt most.

Tessa laughed through her fury. The next second, she grabbed a vase and hurled it at them.

Spencer barely dodged. Cursing, he stepped forward to hit her.

Willow flung open the door, crossed the room in three strides, shoved the man hard, and helped Tessa up.

"Spencer, this is a society ruled by law!"

He sneered, anger surging. "This is my family business. Get out of the way!"

Willow shielded Tessa, backing up. Her pretty face showed nothing but cold stubbornness.

"I recorded everything and sent it to a friend. If we don't walk out safely today, you know the consequences."

The menace around him finally eased slightly. "Willow, I've always treated you well, haven't I?"

"I don't want to be enemies with you either, Spencer. But you're really pushing it."

He chuckled, walked to the sofa, and picked up his cigarette case, ready to negotiate.

But the next second, Tessa lunged at him like she'd snapped, hitting and kicking.

Afraid Tessa would get hurt, Willow stepped in to help.

And then...

Faster than legal punishment came the patrol cars.

By the time the statement was finished, it was already dark.

The office next door had been arguing the whole time, like they were going to vent all the resentment they'd built up over the years.

Willow thought about it and still went over to say hello to Mrs. Salazar.

Luckily, when she saw her, Mrs. Salazar's emotions had stabilized quite a bit, and her wound had already been treated.

"I dragged you into this, but you're a real one. I'll contact you again after I'm done dealing with things here."

Willow nodded and didn't take it to heart.

After all, in a world of fame and money, polite small talk is the last thing you can take seriously.

As soon as she walked out, under the bright lights, a man in a white dress shirt and black slacks was leaning against a sports car, a cigarette between his lips. Smoke curled around him, but it couldn't hide his unruly brows and eyes.

Willow had thought there wouldn't be any follow-up between them, but she hadn't expected to see him here.

The phone in her bag buzzed. She opened the screen, and a message successfully explained why she would see Victor here.

In less than a day, the news that she, in order to help Victor land the deal, had run off to be Spencer's mistress and gotten caught by the wife had already spread like wildfire.

Willow suddenly laughed, but there was more helplessness in that smile.

She put her phone away, stepped down the stairs, and chose to ignore Victor.

But he was clearly waiting for her. He lifted his leg, walked in front of her, and blocked her path.

"Still throwing a tantrum?"

The man in front of her had a pair of peach-blossom eyes, looking affectionate at anyone.

After countless heartbreaks, Willow would still be fooled by those eyes, to the point that she wasted eight years of her youth on him.

She took a step back, widening the distance between them. There was no expression on her face.

"Move."

Victor scratched between his brows and smiled as he stepped forward to press closer.

"Willow, okay, stop it. About what happened before, I sincerely apologize. I know you still have me in your heart. Let's be good."

"I'm married." Willow really didn't want to keep getting tangled up with him.

Victor's expression changed slightly. After a moment, he curled his lips into a smile.

"You mean the marriage with the Farley family?"

Willow didn't speak.

She neither admitted it nor denied it.

Her hesitation fell into Victor's eyes and immediately became proof that she was lying.

"Jesse Farley is in Melbourne right now."

Willow raised her eyebrows and didn't expose him. "So what?"

Victor frowned slightly, as if he could see her frankness and seriousness. A trace of subtle anger suddenly appeared on his face. "So you really got the certificate with Jesse?"

Jesse's matter hadn't blown up, but people like them more or less knew some of it, and they also knew the Farley family's intention in choosing Willow as a granddaughter-in-law at this time.

Since it was a temporary patch-the-hole role, naturally there wouldn't be any grand wedding.

Or rather, even if there was a wedding, the Farley family's banquet wasn't somewhere they could go just because they wanted to.

Willow still didn't know whether Theodore was willing to make this marriage public, so she could only be vague and change the subject. "Mr. Henson should worry more about your girlfriend. My business is none of your concern. I hope you stay farther away from me in the future."

She walked past Victor. Just as she lifted her head, a bodyguard in black stepped forward and said respectfully, "Hello, ma'am. I'm Lincoln, Mr. Farley's personal bodyguard. Mr. Farley specifically had me come pick you up and take you home."

The bodyguard in front of her was different from other bodyguards. Others had big pecs and were bulky; he looked thin and tall, and his whole person gave off a sharp edge. With a black suit on him, it added a bit more of that suit-wearing thug vibe.

Willow's gaze circled over him and slowly landed on the luxury sedan behind him.

She recognized the license plate—an entire string of lucky numbers. When Theodore went to the Mason residence to pick her up, he was in this very car.

Only after confirming his identity did she nod in response.

Lincoln walked to the car and opened the door first.

Just as Willow was about to bend down and get in, Victor chased up, disbelief still lingering in his eyes.

He wanted to question Willow about how long she planned to keep playing around, but Lincoln didn't give him any chance to get close.

"Mr. Henson, please conduct yourself."

Victor had never thought anyone would say the words "please conduct yourself" to him.

The hand hanging at his side clenched tight, veins bulging. "Move."

Lincoln didn't budge at all, his expression unchanged.

Victor was so furious he laughed. Just as he was about to make a move, a patrol car returned from duty. The siren sound wandered back and forth in the air, forcibly pressing down the fire in his heart.

Watching that car gradually disappear into the flow of traffic, Victor cursed under his breath and kicked his own tire.

He didn't even know why. Clearly, he had never cared about Willow, but now, seeing her get into another man's car, he actually felt irritated.

When he drove to the bar, a group of people were already waiting for him.

"Victor, how'd it go? Did you get the contract?"

A man stood up, poured a glass of liquor, and respectfully handed it to Victor.

It would've been fine if they didn't mention it, but once they did, Victor's face looked awful. He kicked over the table.

That move instantly scared the men and women who had been joking around into silence.

This group had been following Victor for so long, and they'd never seen him lose his temper this badly.

The man who had just poured him a drink waved his hand, drove out all the irrelevant people who were waiting to hear gossip, and efficiently pulled out a cigarette and handed it over.

"Victor, what's going on?"

Victor took a deep breath, exhaustion all over his brows and eyes. "Go check Jesse Farley's itinerary, and also his marital status."

The man froze. "Victor, did something happen?"

Victor lifted his eyes and glanced at him. The man immediately shut his mouth, nodded, accepted the errand, and walked out.

The door closed, and the private room fell into a deathly silence.

Victor leaned back on the sofa and suddenly felt his stomach hurt a little.

Instinctively, he wanted to take out his phone and call Willow, but in a flash, the image of her not looking back surfaced in front of his eyes.

That license plate—if he hadn't mistaken it—was a Farley family plate.

These days, news kept popping up that Willow wanted to climb the social ladder and marry into a rich family, but he didn't believe it.

Not to mention what kind of family the Farleys really were, and whether Willow could even climb up to them—just Willow as a person, she couldn't possibly leave him.

All these years, she had been chasing after him, and no matter who tried to persuade her, it was useless.

But the scene tonight made him realize that something seemed to have quietly changed.

Thinking of this, Victor felt inexplicably irritated. He stubbed out the cigarette between his fingers, stood up, and walked out.

Downstairs in the dance floor, there were seductive figures everywhere. Usually, when he was bored, he would order a drink and sit at the bar for a while, and naturally there would be social butterflies pouncing on him, but tonight, he wasn't in the mood.

When he got home, he stood in the entryway looking at the pitch-black living room. His mind was in a mess, full of Willow.

From the moment she got into the Farley family's car, he had always had an uncomfortable feeling.

That feeling was very subtle, like something was slowly being pulled away.

He gave a self-mocking smile, then took out his phone and called Bonnie Head.

It was just a woman.

What Victor lacked the least was women.