Elaine felt uneasy, dreading that Dylan might press her about the Xeno Club.

She approached him, timidly clutching the edge of his shirt, her voice soft and sweet. "Mr. Andrews, you haven't come by in half a month…I thought you'd forgotten about me." When his gaze swept over her, she flashed a smile that mirrored Alina's perfectly.

Her worries proved unnecessary; Dylan had no time to interrogate her.

Without a word, he scooped her up and tossed her onto the expansive bed.

Elaine suspected his sudden return and foul mood stemmed from a spat with his beloved.

She didn't dare provoke him further, softening her body to yield completely.

Yet her compliance seemed to enrage him, his actions growing fiercer, as if he meant to consume her entirely.

Unable to endure it any longer, she clutched his tense back, her voice trembling with a sob. "Mr. Andrews… please… be gentle with me…"

His scorching palm covered the lower half of her face, leaving only her eyes visible.

Staring into her tearful gaze, he rasped, "Call me Dylan."

Elaine understood his intent.

Her eyes were the feature most like Alina's.

Obediently, she curved her tear-soaked eyes into crescents, mimicking Alina's playful tone, and softly called, "Dylan."

Satisfied at last, Dylan's touch softened, and he placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

She knew full well that such a gentle, innocent kiss wasn't meant for her.

It was for Alina.

After so many years, her heart had grown calloused; it no longer hurt.

In the beginning, she hadn't been so compliant.

When she first started with Dylan, she was a bit reckless.

He had been so good to her back then.

He cleared her debts, paid her mother's medical bills, provided her with opportunities, and showered her with clothes, bags, and jewelry.

She almost believed they were in love.

Until Dylan's birthday, when she baked a cake herself and texted him, saying she'd wait at the hotel.

She waited past midnight, but he never responded.

Panicked, she called him repeatedly, but he didn't pick up.

Finally, she learned from his assistant that he was at his suburban villa.

She rushed there overnight, only to be stopped by a cold iron gate.

That night, a torrential downpour soaked her as Dylan remained upstairs in the warm glow, forbidding anyone to let her in.

Later, she discovered Alina had returned, flying in specially to celebrate his birthday.

Elaine stood in the rain all night, catching a fever that nearly turned into pneumonia.

Dylan only visited her in the hospital when she was nearly recovered, saying coolly, "If there's a next time, you're out."

There wouldn't be a next time.

After that, she learned her place.

She realized she was no different from a pet cat to Dylan.

A cat could sleep beside him, get a treat or a pat when he was pleased, maybe a scratch under the chin.

But a cat was just a cat.

After eight years of being his cat, Dylan was growing bored, and she was exhausted.

She wanted to be human again.

After his release, Dylan fell into a deep sleep.

Elaine couldn't sleep at all.

She scrolled through her phone, glancing at trending topics, when a name caught her eye.

Alina.

By coincidence, just as Elaine accepted Director Charlie's offer to pursue a career in Eldoria, Alina, who had been making her mark in Eldoria's film industry, announced a high-profile return to shoot a TV series.

Probably for Dylan.

Elaine gazed at Dylan's refined profile and let out a soft laugh.

His abrupt, angry return must have sparked a sense of urgency in the great beauty Alina.

A year ago, Elaine rescued a stray dog from the roadside and named it Sunny.

Her filming schedule kept her away for months, making pet ownership difficult.

She mustered the courage to ask Dylan for help.

He was engrossed in paperwork, barely glancing up, and waved dismissively. "My suburban house needs a guard dog. Send it there. The old caretaker will handle it."

She thanked him profusely and sent Sunny to the villa.

Sunny was remarkably intelligent. Though it didn't live with her, it knew she was its savior.

Each time they met, its tail wagged like a propeller.

This pure affection became a rare comfort in her bleak life.

She calculated that once she left, Dylan would hardly care for Sunny.

She drove to the suburban villa, planning to take Sunny home and bring it abroad with her.

But when she stepped into the villa's courtyard, no yellow figure greeted her.

Her heart sank, her voice trembling. "Jake, where's Sunny?"

The caretaker hesitated, then whispered, "Last night, Miss Russell returned. She's allergic to dog fur. Mr. Andrews told us to get rid of the dog…"

"Get rid of it?" Elaine felt as if she'd been plunged into icy water. "Where? Where did you take Sunny?"

"Outside the neighborhood…"

Like a madwoman, Elaine rushed out, asking everyone she met if they'd seen a yellow dog.

She searched all afternoon until night fell and rain began to pour, but Sunny remained missing.

Elaine wandered through the downpour, hoarsely calling, "Sunny!"

The dog didn't appear, but Dylan did.

Dylan approached under a black umbrella, swiftly grabbing her soaked arm, his brows furrowed. "Elaine, have you lost your mind?"

She stared into the dim rain, imagining Sunny cold and hungry, her heart burning with panic.

Forgetting herself, she shouted at Dylan, "You promised you'd take care of Sunny! Why did you abandon it? Why?"

Her rare outburst caught Dylan off guard. He stiffened, then said coldly, "Who said I abandoned it? Come with me."

Elaine froze.

He shoved her dripping wet into the back of his Maybach, instructing the driver, "To Riverbay."

Dylan owned an oceanfront house in Riverbay.

The yard bloomed with fragrant white gardenias.

As the gate opened, a familiar yellow figure bounded from a polished doghouse.

Sunny pounced on Elaine, licking her face with its wet tongue.

Then it nuzzled Dylan's pant leg.

Dylan grimaced, signaling a servant to pull the dog away, before saying to the stunned Elaine, "I have plenty of houses. No need to abandon it. Just moved it here."

Surprised, Elaine blurted, "But the caretaker said you got rid of it…"

"Alina has a temper. If I didn't make a show of it, she'd raise hell." His tone was resigned, but a flicker of warmth crossed his eyes.

Elaine thought, that was love.

Loving someone so much that even their tantrums seem endearing.

Suppressing the ache in her chest, she forced a grateful smile. "Thank you, Mr. Andrews. I've got some free time soon. Can I take Sunny home to care for it myself?"

Dylan glanced at her, tossing out casually, "Do what you want."

He'd been out for a while when Alina's call came through. "Dylan, where are you? I'm craving blueberry cake. Go get me some!"

She was the only person in the world who dared speak to Dylan like that.

He didn't mind, a faint smile on his lips. "Alright, I'm on it."

Hanging up, he looked at Elaine, drenched like a drowned rat, and frowned slightly. "I won't have time for you lately. There's a magazine cover shoot. Go do it. Keep yourself busy."

The opportunity he casually offered was a top-tier fashion magazine cover that countless actresses would kill for.

Elaine had no reason to refuse and accepted the "compensation" graciously.

But when she arrived at the studio, she discovered it was a group shoot.

And in the center, commanding the spotlight, was the newly returned, ever-radiant Alina.

Alina was the undisputed star, surrounded by adoration.

Elaine assumed Alina wouldn't even notice her.

She was mistaken; Alina's hostility was blatant and deliberate.

As Elaine slipped into a couture gown, Alina's assistant approached.

The assistant stumbled, seemingly by accident, and a decorative pin tore a jagged rip in the delicate fabric of Elaine's skirt.

Alina covered her mouth, her tone devoid of remorse. "So sorry, Miss Willis. That dress won't do now. There's a spare over there that suits you better."

It was a dull, outdated dress, clashing with the shoot's glamorous theme.

Outmatched, Elaine swallowed her pride to avoid trouble and changed into the plain outfit.

She hoped her concession would bring peace, unaware that Alina's targeting had only begun.

As a staff member prepared to adorn Elaine with a dazzling jewelry set, Alina interjected sharply, "That set's too bold for Miss Willis. It doesn't suit her. Switch it out."

The replacement was a pair of barely noticeable stud earrings and a thin, pitiful chain necklace.

Ivy's face paled with anger. "Elaine's the ambassador for this jewelry brand! Aren't you worried about upsetting them?"

Alina smirked, unfazed. "Are they? Let them take it up with Dylan Andrews. I doubt they'll complain."

Ivy opened her mouth to argue, but Elaine gently squeezed her wrist.

"It's just a group shoot. Let it go," she whispered, her voice tinged with exhaustion.

The shoot finally began.

The photographer directed Elaine to a prominent spot, but Alina pointed to the far corner, her tone firm. "Elaine, go there. You're so tall, you'll block others if you stand up front."

Everyone in the industry knew Alina was Dylan's cherished love.

The photographer had objections but stayed silent.

Elaine lifted her skirt and moved to the edge.

Alina spoke again. "Elaine, are you a bit too heavy? You're throwing off the whole frame. Step back a little more."

Elaine sighed.

She knew one word from Alina could prompt Dylan to dismiss women like her without hesitation.

Yet Alina, proud and ambitious, always declared she wouldn't date until she won some international acting award.

Year after year, she kept Dylan on a string.

She told the media they were just friends.

But when Dylan had other women, she grew displeased.

What was the point?

It was like gods clashing while mortals suffered.

Suppressing her humiliation, Elaine completed the shoot. Just as she exhaled in relief, a cup of scalding coffee splashed across her.

The brown liquid stained her chest, sticky and humiliating.

"Oh no!" Alina exclaimed. "The floor's so slippery, I lost my grip. You're not burned, are you?"

The searing pain hit, and Elaine clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms.

She saw the triumphant glint in Alina's eyes, and rage surged within her.

She wanted to grab a hot coffee and throw it back.

But then, a commotion stirred at the studio entrance.

The staff fell silent, their gazes turning toward the door.

Dylan had arrived.

He wore a impeccably tailored dark suit, his presence commanding as he strode in, surrounded by the crew.

His indifferent gaze swept the room, pausing briefly on Elaine's stained dress before settling on Alina.

Alina hurried to him, naturally looping her arm through his, her voice soft. "Dylan, you're finally here! The floor's so slippery, I nearly fell and spilled coffee on Miss Willis by accident…"

Dylan let her hold his arm, but his eyes shifted back to Elaine, their depths unreadable.