Jonathan lounged on the plush sofa in his high-rise hotel suite, the top buttons of his black shirt undone, giving him an air of effortless confidence.

A soft knock sounded before Robert stepped inside, folders in hand. "Mr. Taylor, here's the background report on Brodie. Also, since we ended things with Wilson Group, he's been calling nonstop trying to reach you."

Jonathan barely glanced at the paperwork, uninterested in the details for now.

"Don't bother returning his calls," he said, his tone cool and resolute. "His suffering will be endless and anguished."

Confusion flickered across Robert's face. "If you don't mind my asking, sir, why single out the Wilson Group? Did Brodie do something to provoke you?"

A single cold look from Jonathan was enough to silence any further questions, the weight of his authority instantly filling the room.

A shiver ran through Robert, who quickly bowed his head. "Apologies, Mr. Taylor. I shouldn't have pried. On another note, there's an invitation here for a business banquet this Friday. Would you like to attend?"

Jonathan drummed his fingers against the sofa's arm, considering the invitation. "Will Brodie be there?"

"He's listed as a guest. He usually brings his wife to these gatherings, and I'd bet he'll be working the room harder than ever now that the Taylor Group dropped his company. He's desperate to find new allies," Robert replied, keeping his voice steady.

The mention of Brodie bringing his wife to the event brought a faint, knowing smile to Jonathan's lips, a spark of intrigue flickering in his eyes. "I'll go to the banquet."

Robert, caught off guard for just a second, quickly regained his composure. "Understood, Mr. Taylor."

As Robert moved to exit, Jonathan spoke up again. "Also, arrange for Cirrus Mansion to be ready. I'll be moving in tomorrow."

That announcement left Robert both surprised and secretly delighted. "So you're finally staying in the city for a while!"

Jonathan's time in recent years had been spent mostly abroad, each visit home short and packed with business obligations before he'd disappear again.

Only one ritual never changed—no matter how busy he was, he always made time to see someone special, slipping away for half a day every visit.

Nobody on his team knew who it was. The whole thing was shrouded in secrecy.

Once, curiosity got the better of Robert, and he dared to ask.

Jonathan's reply was cool and dismissive. "Just a fool."

Jonathan waved Robert out, ending the conversation. With the room finally quiet, he reached for Brodie's file and began flipping through the pages at a relaxed pace.

His attention paused on the name "Bethany" listed under spouse, along with the sparse details of her background.

A small passport photo of Bethany was clipped to the file, capturing a face marked by delicate features and a steady, determined gaze.

Jonathan tapped his fingers against the desk, his expression unreadable as a storm of emotion flickered in his eyes.

One line in the report stopped him cold—"Forced his wife, Bethany, to undergo a bone marrow extraction to save Karen." Instantly, a chill entered his stare and the whole room seemed to tighten around him.

His finger pressed hard against the paper as he repeated her name in his mind.

Bethany.

So that sickly, fragile look he had noticed wasn't an accident—it was the result of everything she'd been forced to endure.

Brodie had sacrificed his own wife's well-being for the sake of another woman. That was a cruelty Jonathan couldn't ignore.

A dangerous smile crept across Jonathan's lips. Brodie would not escape the consequences.

...

Friday night arrived with the city shining bright, and the grand ballroom of the Glory Hotel buzzed with chatter, laughter, and the clinking of crystal glasses.

Bethany swept into the hall beside Brodie, draped in a champagne gown that shimmered under the lights and adorned with a set of diamonds he had chosen. Every detail was perfect, from her polished look to the graceful air she carried.

The couple drew instant attention as they entered arm in arm.

Brodie flashed a proud smile at his elegant wife, clearly pleased by the admiring stares they received.

Bethany's poise and beauty had always served as Brodie's favorite "show piece" in any crowd.

"Good evening, Mr. Wilson. Good evening, Mrs. Wilson." One guest after another came by with polite greetings.

Brodie navigated the room with practiced charm, while Bethany wore her carefully curated smile, slipping easily into the role of the loving wife at his side.

"I'm going to step out for a moment." A soft tilt of her head brought her lips close to his ear.

He squeezed her hand in response, barely glancing her way. "Don't take too long."

His attention drifted elsewhere, scanning the ballroom for any sign of Jonathan's arrival.

After freshening up in the restroom, Bethany found the air inside stifling. She slipped out to the small garden in the back, seeking a quiet breath away from the crowd.

Just as she began to relax, a silken, deliberately provocative voice called out behind her. "You must be Bethany."

Bethany stopped in her tracks and slowly turned to face the speaker. Standing before her was a woman draped in a bold red backless gown, every line calculated to draw the eye.

It was Karen.

"That's right. What do you want?" Bethany replied, her tone icy and her eyes unreadable.

Clicking confidently across the stones, Karen closed the distance between them, every step punctuated by the sound of her heels.

A slight tilt of Karen's head was matched by a sweet, almost childlike smile. "Nothing really. I've just heard so much about you, Mrs. Wilson. Brodie's always praising you for being such a devoted wife."

Bethany returned the courtesy with a cold, distant smile. "That's kind of you, Miss Jenkins. Oddly enough, I've never heard him mention you."

Karen's expression faltered, but she quickly regained her composure. "Brodie probably doesn't want you to get the wrong idea. He and I work closely these days, and he always looks out for me. I hope you don't mind?"

"Not at all," Bethany answered smoothly. "But maybe you should be concerned. There's nothing glamorous about being called a mistress, is there?"

"You!" Karen's hands shook with barely controlled anger.

Damn it! So, Bethany already knew. All the better—there was no need for pretense now.

"You can blame me all you want, but holding onto a man who doesn't love you is pointless, don't you think?" Karen began.

Her eyes sparkled with a cruel innocence. "Oh, and just so you know, Brodie gave me that good luck charm you made for him when I wasn't feeling well. He said it might bring me luck. But honestly, I tossed it—anything that's touched another woman isn't worth keeping."

A spark of satisfaction flickered in Karen's eyes before she added sweetly, "You don't mind, right? Brodie told me it was just some ordinary trinket. Nothing special. So it wasn't a big deal when I tossed it."

That good luck charm. Bethany would never forget it.

Back when Brodie had been kidnapped and lay unconscious in the hospital, she spent night after night crafting it by hand. Her fingers had blistered and bled as she carved every detail, pouring her fear, her love, and her hopes for his safety into it.

Now, the token that had carried her devotion, her pain, and five years of her life was being dismissed as trash—broken and tossed aside.

Bethany's tone didn't waver. "Just a cheap charm. You can buy ones like that online for just 1 dollar with free shipping. If you want a handful of useless trinkets, I can send you some."

And she meant it. There wasn't a single ripple in her chest anymore. The moment she learned that the so‑called "check‑up" had been a lie, that the man she had loved so fiercely had stolen her bone marrow for Karen behind her back, something inside her had finally died.

Bethany brushed her thumb over her wedding ring, eyes lowering. It was time to let everything go.

Karen faltered, caught off guard by Bethany's calm indifference.

"You're so 'generous,'" she said through clenched teeth, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "But what Brodie gives me is far more precious than some cheap charm. Some things just can't be bought—like love, or the time we share."

"Love, you say? That's an interesting way to put it. If what you two have is real love, why is he still wearing a ring with my name on it, and not yours?" Bethany arched an eyebrow, her voice tinged with amusement.

"Enough out of you! Brodie will—" Karen's voice shook with fury as she tilted her glass, champagne poised to fly in Bethany's direction.

But suddenly, a movement caught her eye. Someone familiar was approaching, and a sly, vengeful smile twisted her lips as she glanced at the sparkling blue of the pool.

Without warning, Karen closed the distance, grabbing Bethany's wrist in a tight grip. She leaned in, voice a breathless whisper. "Let's see who Brodie chooses to save, shall we?"

In the very next instant, she staggered forward, dragging Bethany down with her. Together, they tumbled into the water, Karen's shrill voice blurting out, "Bethany! What are you—!"

Water exploded upward in a violent spray as both women hit the pool.

The early spring water hit Bethany like a wall of ice and pulled her under before she could brace herself.

She gasped on instinct and swallowed a rush of cold water, then forced her way back to the surface where she found Brodie watching her from the pool's edge with clear worry in his eyes.

For a heartbeat, neither of them looked away.

In that brief pause, Bethany could have sworn he was about to dive in for her.

Before she could be sure, Karen's voice cut through the air. "Brodie! Help me. I can't swim..."

Karen cried out in a shaky, sharp voice that made it sound like she might sink any second.

Brodie froze for a split second, and whatever he had been thinking vanished at once.

He lunged into the pool and rushed straight for Karen. He never once looked back at Bethany, as if she were nothing more than a stranger.

The freezing water clung to Bethany's skin, yet it still felt warmer than the ache spreading through her chest.

While Brodie held Karen close, his hand moved gently across her back as though he were afraid she might break.

Bethany realized she had no one to count on but herself.

She managed to scramble out of the cold pool, every movement awkward and exhausting.

Her soaked dress clung to her like a second skin, making each step heavier than the last.

Water streamed from the expensive fabric, gathering around her feet in a widening pool.

Everyone nearby seemed to stare right through her, their eyes sharp and unkind.

Meanwhile, Brodie lifted Karen and carried her out of the pool without hesitation.

Karen curled up against him, shivering, but there was a hint of triumph in her eyes as she looked straight at Bethany and gave a smirk that needed no words.

"Bethany!" Brodie turned and fixed his gaze on her, his eyes full of accusation as water dripped steadily from her hair.

He didn't try to hide his anger. He shouted, disappointment in every word, "How could you be so cruel? You fell in, and you dragged Karen down with you? Do you even care that she just got better?"

He called her cruel? And he believed she'd dragged Karen under?

Bethany's anger flared up, hotter than the sting of the cold water clinging to her skin, drowning out whatever restraint she had left.

Her gaze locked onto Karen, who still clung to Brodie's chest, weeping softly but throwing her a smug, taunting look that didn't fit the trembling act.

A dry, humorless laugh escaped Bethany.

With Karen gloating, Bethany didn't hesitate. She stormed straight at them.

Before Brodie could block her path, Bethany drew back her leg and drove her foot hard into Karen's side.

"Ouch!" Karen shrieked, the sound slicing through the heavy air. Her victory vanished in an instant, terror replacing the smirk as she tumbled out of Brodie's arms and crashed back into the pool.

The water exploded up, higher and louder than before.

A heavy silence settled over everyone. Not a soul moved, each person frozen in disbelief at what they'd just witnessed.

Brodie seemed rooted to the spot, staring at his now-empty arms in shock.

Bethany stood tall at the pool's edge, her eyes following Karen as she thrashed in the water, fear replacing every trace of her earlier pride.

Slowly, Bethany lifted her gaze and fixed it coldly on Brodie. Her words cut through the hush, quiet yet sharp enough for all to hear. "You've already made up your mind about me. Wouldn't it be a letdown if I didn't act the part you've given me?"

"Bethany! Have you completely lost your mind?" Brodie didn't wait for an answer and jumped back into the pool to pull Karen from the water, coughing and gasping for air.

Karen could hardly muster a sound now. The earlier act had faded, replaced by the mess of her wet hair and ruined dress.

Meanwhile, Bethany stood there, every inch soaked, but there was a steely steadiness in her posture that made her look untouched by the chaos.

People all around started whispering.

"Did you see that? I can't believe Bethany really went through with it..."

"That was one wild kick. I probably shouldn't say it, but I almost enjoyed watching it."

"Enjoyed it? Mr. Wilson looked ready to explode. Bethany's in for it now."

"Still, can you blame her? He acted like Bethany didn't exist while Karen played the victim."

"I always thought they were the perfect couple, but maybe they're hiding more than we thought."

With every pair of eyes judging her, Bethany felt their scorn, but Brodie only clung tighter to Karen, his gaze fixed on Bethany, stunned and silent.

Never before had Brodie witnessed this side of Bethany. The woman who once tiptoed around him had vanished, replaced by someone unafraid to shatter the silence with one bold move.

Spotting the shift in Brodie's attention, Karen's composure slipped into desperation.

Her voice barely above a whisper, she pleaded, "Brodie... please..."

The softness in her tone was enough to snap Brodie back to her side.

Worry etched into his features, he asked, "Karen? Are you alright?"

"It's so hard to breathe... Don't blame Ms. Reid... She only acts this way because she loves you so much..." Karen's pain seemed carefully rehearsed, every word falling just right.

Bethany didn't let Karen finish. She swept up a glass of red wine from a passing server and tossed its contents straight at Karen.

"Spare us the drama. We both know what's really going on. Sooner or later, everyone gets what they deserve," scoffed Bethany.

"You're out of control, Bethany!" Brodie shouted, his anger boiling over.

"Let's divorce, Brodie. I'll send you the divorce papers. We're finished here." Bethany didn't wait for anyone to answer. She spun on her heel and strode away. Despite being soaked and messy, she moved through the crowd with a cool, distant air.

Shoulders straight, she ignored the whispers and glares as she made her way toward the lounge beside the banquet hall.

Brodie's brow furrowed at her declaration. She must just be saying it in anger. There was no way Bethany would be willing to divorce!

Meanwhile, Karen's voice trembled as she murmured, "Brodie, I don't feel right..."

His face paled in panic. "Hang in there! I'll get you to a hospital now!" he exclaimed, quickly lifting her up and hurrying out.

...

Cold water clung to Bethany's skin, making every step more uncomfortable than the last.

As she reached the corridor, someone stepped into her path.

Her heart skipped a beat when she realized it was a man dressed sharply, clearly a secretary.

Robert stood before her, flawless in his suit, giving her a polite smile and a slight bow. "Good evening, Ms. Reid. Mr. Taylor would like to see you."

Though surprised, Bethany kept her expression neutral and gave a simple nod. "What does Mr. Taylor want with me?"

Robert extended a refined paper bag toward her, his manner polite but leaving no room for refusal. "Mr. Taylor asked me to deliver this to you. There's a fresh outfit inside, and I made sure the size will work for you. Also, there's a suite ready upstairs so you can change and get comfortable."

Bethany glanced down at the bag. Tucked inside was a beautifully tailored dress, crisp and untouched.

A quick flutter of surprise caught her off guard.

Jonathan was this considerate? He had to have seen everything that happened near the pool.

But they were almost strangers—after all, they'd only crossed paths once before.

Their history went back five years, to a chance encounter on a stormy night.

After an argument with Brodie, she'd been driving home in a haze.

Rounding a sharp bend, she nearly collided with someone darting out from the darkness.

She slammed on the brakes and leaped from the car, nerves rattling.

There, sprawled on the rain-soaked pavement, was a man—drenched and bleeding from a scrape above his eye.

Even drenched and unsteady, the sharp lines of his face and the air of authority he carried were impossible to overlook.

Though his eyes drifted in and out of focus, a hint of defiance lingered around his mouth.

That night, the stranger she'd found was Jonathan.

He had just endured a vicious betrayal, pushed aside by his own family joining forces with outsiders against him.

Nothing about that evening had offered him comfort. It was rock bottom.

Bethany could have walked away, but the look in his wounded eyes stopped her. Without thinking much about it, she lifted him up and helped him into her car.

She drove him to the hospital and made sure the doctors got paid.

When he finally stirred, she pressed a warm cup of water into his hands and said, "You have to stay alive to reclaim what you've lost."

She had no idea who he was then. All she knew was that someone needed help, and she couldn't just turn her back.

After his condition improved, she slipped away quietly, leaving only an umbrella and the receipt for the bill—no name, no contact.

Weeks later, she caught sight of him on a financial news broadcast and realized she had helped Jonathan, the heir to the powerful Taylor Group.

She never tried to cash in on what happened. Her life was full enough, and she poured everything into her marriage with Brodie, thinking it was all she needed.

The last thing she imagined was seeing Jonathan again—especially in a moment as embarrassing as this.

And judging by the way he'd acted, he remembered her.