When Alina was a child, she had been little more than a gaunt shadow drifting through the streets, her belly always empty and her eyes too large for her thin face. She learned to walk at the same time she figured out how to scavenge through the trash bags behind the houses in the suburbs. One blustery afternoon, just as she tried to pull a crust of moldy bread from a bag, a gentle yet steady figure stopped her. From that day forward, Mrs. Dumas left a plate of leftovers behind her fence every morning, never saying a single word. This quiet ritual continued for twelve long years. Without that helping hand, Alina likely wouldn't have survived.

Now, as Mrs. Dumas walked away with slow, weary steps, her persistent cough giving her away, Alina felt a sharp ache in her chest. Just then, a commotion erupted at the entrance. The Leroux family had arrived, making their presence known as if with a burst of trumpets. Samuel Dumas and Mrs. Dumas greeted them warmly. After a brief exchange, they stepped aside to allow an elegant procession to pass through. Among them was Nohan Leroux, striking in a custom black suit, moving with the assured air of a king among his people. In person, he was even more impressive than in the photos: a strong jaw, intense gaze, pressed lips, and the posture of someone born to command. His eyes swept over the crowd and lingered on Alina for a moment. A shiver ran down her spine when their eyes met. The moment lasted only a second, but it was thick with tension. He looked away before she could make sense of what his stare meant.

Samuel Dumas greeted him with a cheerful question. "Mr. Leroux, is your wife not with you today?"

The question struck Alina like a shockwave. She could feel Nohan's gaze on her again, this time even more insistent. He replied with a distant tone, "She couldn't make it."

They moved toward the living room, the conversation turning to wedding preparations. Ayden Leroux followed the elders, looking more refined than ever in his suit. He seemed completely unaware of Alina's presence, quietly speaking to Maïa instead. Around Nohan, the salon hummed with energy as he sat in the seat of honor.

Alina kept to the edges, silent, simply watching as the guests lost themselves in their shallow conversations. Suddenly, Line appeared out of nowhere and seized her arm roughly.

"Alina! Why are you still hanging around? Can't you just leave Ayden alone? He's your brother-in-law now!"

Alina pulled her arm free and gave a cool smile.

"There's no reason to get so agitated. I'm not here to cause trouble. Mr. Dumas invited me for a drink to celebrate."

Ever since her teenage years, she had always called Samuel Dumas simply "Mr. Dumas," a way of showing a distant sort of respect.

Line scowled in response.

"Do you really believe everything he says? Can't you see you don't belong here? Even I wouldn't dare embarrass the Dumas like this, and you—a bastard with no status—think you have any place at this table? Leave before you bring shame on everyone!"

Alina burned with frustration inside. Would this woman ever stop talking?

She was just about to retort when she noticed Nohan Leroux standing up. He showed his phone, excused himself for a moment, and stepped out onto the balcony. Alina's eyes brightened.

"Fine," she said.

She brushed past Line and slipped quietly out of the living room, staying within the house. She made her way upstairs and out to the balcony that overlooked the garden. Nohan had just ended his call. When he spotted her, he fixed her with a cold stare. Alina hesitated, then softly murmured, "Darling?"

The private balcony dulled the noise from the living room. Nohan looked at her in confusion, his deep eyes unreadable. Without a word, he turned abruptly, as if to leave. Alina stepped in front of him, blocking his way. He stopped and frowned.

"Step aside."

His voice, deep and steady, had a dark, almost dangerous softness to it.

Alina felt her stomach knot.

"You... you don't recognize me?"

Nohan looked her over from head to toe.

"Should I?"

From the moment he had crossed the Dumas' threshold, he had felt a burning stare on him. It wasn't the kind of saccharine look he had grown used to, but something raw and genuine. That was what had made him steal a few glances back. The young woman was striking, with a calm yet defiant presence—and that small beauty mark at the corner of her eye, almost too perfect to be real.

But she had dared to call him darling.

Annoyed, Nohan answered sharply, "Miss, I am a married man. Please keep your distance."

Alina stepped back a little, taken aback. So he truly didn't remember her. But how could he claim to be married then? She pulled a folded document from her bag.

"May I ask who your wife is?"

"That's none of your concern."

His tone was icy.

She handed him a copy of their marriage certificate.

"Mr. Leroux, the man on this document—this is you, isn't it?"

Nohan lowered his gaze and read the names. The bride's name was Alina Dumas.

He looked up, his expression turning sarcastic.

"Miss Dumas, is this supposed to be a forgery? You could have tried harder. Getting a professional copy costs next to nothing."

He spun around and walked away, steering clear of the living room as he made his way straight through the garden toward the parking lot.

Alina hurried after him, but two security guards dressed in black blocked her path.

"Mr. Leroux! This certificate is real! You can check with the courthouse!"

Nohan didn't look back. He got into his car and vanished into the night.

His assistant, who had lingered behind, soon reappeared in the living room. Maïa immediately stopped him, her face etched with worry.

She had seen the entire scene unfold, though she hadn't caught what was said.

"Why did Mr. Leroux leave so suddenly?" she asked. "Did someone offend him?"

The personal assistant offered a subtle smile. "Mr. Leroux had to leave on urgent business. Miss Dumas, could you please inform the elders?" The fact that the boss hadn't rebuked the young woman made it clear he wasn't upset with her.

Maïa nodded at once, politely seeing the assistant out.

Once the wedding date had been set and the meal finished, the members of the Leroux family began to depart. After saying goodbye to the guests, Samuel Dumas voiced his concern. "Why did Mr. Leroux leave like that? Did we do something wrong?"

Maïa, her eyes growing dark, remembered how strangely Ayden had acted—distracted, almost as if he was searching for someone—and then thought of Alina's troubled face. She clenched her fists, her gaze turning hard.

"Dad, I saw Alina bothering Mr. Leroux. He was visibly angry when he left and told me to pass along a message..."

"What message?" Samuel Dumas asked.

"He said you should teach your daughter better manners."

Maïa bit her lip. "If Alina keeps this up, the Leroux family will start thinking we have no control over our own household..." Samuel Dumas's face went pale.

Meanwhile, Alina rode away from the villa on her electric scooter. She had already lost sight of Nohan and was starting to regret what she had done.

Her phone vibrated. On the other end, her assistant Samuel's anxious voice came through. "Boss, a lot of people have been trying to figure out who Dr. Vega really is lately."

Alina arched an eyebrow. "They haven't found anything, have they?"

"No, of course not. Who would ever suspect that a young woman, freshly graduated and looking so harmless, is the genius who cracked the hydrogen puzzle?"

"Anything else?" She cut in, her voice cold.

"Yes. I managed to get information about Nohan Leroux."

"I'm listening."

"He is the second son of the former patriarch Leroux. They say he has a reputation for rare brutality, which would explain why he was sent abroad so young. Everyone assumed that the family fortune would go to his older brother, Ayden's father. But just last week, Nohan returned without warning and forced his father to hand over the leadership of the Leroux group by rather drastic means."

Samuel paused, then asked, "Didn't you arrange a fake marriage today? How did the groom turn out to be so formidable? Boss, if your marital status collapses, it could put the stock market launch at risk..."

Alina frowned. "Find his contact information and his schedule. I need to speak with him." The only reason she had agreed to this sham of a marriage was that the legal status of being married made the company appear more reliable in advance of its stock market debut. Yet now, she found herself married to a man she didn't even know, with the feeling that she had walked straight into a trap. Nohan Leroux was far from ordinary; the best option would be a swift divorce.

After ending the call, she rubbed her temples. Everything had become more complicated than she expected. As a business executive, Nohan was always surrounded by bodyguards, making another meeting with him nearly impossible. She silently cursed herself for using that reckless word—"darling"—which had triggered his anger.

With a sigh, she started her scooter again and slowly left the downtown streets, heading toward an old neighborhood on the edge of the city. Since middle school, she had run away from the Dumas family home with very little money, renting a rundown house where she had stayed ever since.

As she rounded a corner near her home, an elderly woman suddenly appeared at the side of the road. Alina slammed on the brakes, barely avoiding an accident. Curious, she studied the old woman. Despite her fragile frame, she was neatly dressed and wore a badge around her neck. The tag read: "If you find this lady, please call this number. A reward will be given." Alina understood right away—this woman had Alzheimer's and had gotten lost. She quickly called the number.

Just then, the old woman, who had seemed completely absent, suddenly seized Alina's wrist. Her eyes, now bright and animated, lit up.

"My daughter-in-law! It's you, my daughter-in-law!"

Alina froze, her mouth twitching at the corners. She had spent twenty-two years single, and now she had ended up with a husband she hadn't even asked for. Would the civil affairs office start handing out husbands like this from now on?

Finding the whole situation nearly comical, she calmly asked, "Grandma, who is your grandson?"

The old woman searched her memory. The name seemed just out of reach... then, suddenly, her eyes lit up.

"Nohan Leroux!" She stammered with excitement.

A long silence followed. The elderly lady grew agitated, repeating, "His name is Nohan... His name... Her name..." But the rest of the words just wouldn't come. Alina tried to calm her. "It's alright, ma'am. Don't worry." She then resumed her call.

Meanwhile, just a few streets away, Nohan Leroux sat in his Bentley. His cold gaze seemed to chill the air inside the car. Next to him, Tom Davis sat trembling.

"I… I'm sorry, sir. I've lost track of Mrs. Leroux!" He stammered.

Nohan remained silent, but the tension in the car became almost suffocating. Tom swallowed hard. Who would have guessed that the old lady, who usually wandered in a fog, would suddenly snap back to herself and vanish? Surveillance footage showed she had boarded a bus heading toward the suburbs. By herself.

The neighborhood showed the passage of time, with its narrow alleys and crumbling buildings. Darkness settled over these streets, stripped of any surveillance cameras, making any investigation nearly impossible. In this grim atmosphere, a phone suddenly vibrated, piercing the silence in the car. Nohan picked up immediately. On the other end, a woman's voice—steady and almost unsettling—came through.

"Hello. The elderly lady you're looking for is with me."

A brief silence hung in the air, thick with tension. Everyone seemed to hold their breath. Suddenly, the car became a flurry of motion: some reached for their phones to contact the authorities, while Tom tried to trace the call. Nohan, unyielding, asked his question in a strong, even voice.

"What do you want in return?"

"Relax," she answered with a teasing lilt. "It was just a joke... You really ought to take better care of your elders."

She then gave them an address and hung up.

Tom let out a loud sigh, pressing a hand to his chest. What nerve!

Nohan, though, frowned in concentration. That voice… There was something about it that seemed both familiar and unsettling.

In less than five minutes, they reached the address. Yet the mysterious benefactor had already disappeared. Only a single police officer remained at the scene, along with old Mrs. Leroux, who appeared completely unharmed.

"Grandma, how did you end up here?" Nohan asked.

The old woman answered in an enigmatic tone, "I came to see my daughter-in-law. She lives just next door."

Nohan stood motionless.

"Grandma... you don't have a daughter-in-law."

"That's not true!" she insisted. "I met her. She was the one who handed me over to the police before slipping away. Give me your phone."

He handed it over. She quickly jotted down the last dialed numbers in her notebook, sure that she had finally found her mysterious daughter-in-law.

Meanwhile, Alina—the one behind this generous yet quiet act—chose to avoid any awkward gratitude. She handed the elderly woman over to the police and left as quickly as she could. Scenes of family emotion simply weren't her thing.

The next day, she received a call from her academic advisor.

"Alina, come to the university right away!"

Puzzled, she hopped onto her electric bike and rushed to Professor Miller's office. When she walked in, she found Maïa and Line already seated. Alina narrowed her eyes, suspicious. Maïa was her classmate at Solaria University, a highly prestigious school. Maïa had earned admission through outstanding grades, while Alina—always ambitious in business—had intentionally kept her grades modest so as not to overshadow Maïa, and had picked a less popular field: energy and electricity. Ironically, that major became fashionable two years later. Maïa switched to the same field, bringing them back together in the same classes.

Alina could understand why Maïa was there, but Line's presence made no sense.

Before she could ask, Professor Miller's voice cut through the room.

"Alina, your recommendation for graduate school has been withdrawn."

"What?" she gasped. "Why?"

"Your mother claims that your conduct does not meet the university's standards," he said firmly. "Try to apologize; it might help your case."

Maïa let out a dramatic sigh.

"I'm sure your mother is only looking out for you, Alina. You've offended Mr. Leroux, and he's demanded that you leave Solaria."

It took Alina a moment to realize that this "Mr. Leroux" was actually Nohan. She remembered their brief encounter the day before—could he really be bitter enough to ruin her future?

Maïa stepped closer, her expression sly.

"Dad bought you a ticket to go abroad. He believes it's safer if you leave. Even the Dumas family won't be able to shield you if you stay here."

Alina glanced at the ticket. The destination was Argentina. Literally on the other side of the world. Were they trying to get rid of her for good?

She pushed the ticket aside, her tone icy.

"I don't need your charity."

Maïa then pulled out a bank card, pretending to be sympathetic.

"Are you worried you won't make it there on your own? Here's six thousand dollars, everything I've saved. I'll send you more as soon as I get my allowance."

Alina responded with a sarcastic smile. "So the famous Dumas heiress only managed to save six thousand dollars?"

But Lina suddenly snatched the card out of Maïa's hand.

"Maïa! Paying for her ticket was already generous enough," she snapped.

She shot Alina a look that could cut glass.

"Start packing. You're leaving. I've already signed the paperwork for your withdrawal from the university."

Alina looked back at her, her gaze icy.

"And who gave you that authority?"

"I'm your mother!" Lina declared. "And honestly, with your grades, continuing your education is a waste of time. Go find a job. Earn your own living."

"Madam," Miller interjected, "Alina's academic record is actually excellent..."

"Professor, I don't need a lecture," Poppy interrupted. "If she wants to stay in school so badly, it's only to compete with Maïa."

The professor fell silent. He turned to Maïa.

"And do you plan to continue your studies as well? You haven't received any recommendations either..."

Maïa gave an angelic smile.

"I've been accepted into a special program."

Miller's brow furrowed.

"Who is your supervisor?"

"Dr. Vega," she answered quietly. "He patented research on hydrogen as an alternative fuel."

Alina stared at her in disbelief.

"You said… who?"