Inside the grand banquet hall of the Serenity Hotel, a wave of applause crashed through the room as the host's voice boomed, welcoming Carl's arrival.

To the sound of thunderous clapping, Carl strode in confidently, his secretary Paulina walking gracefully at his side.

The event, held in Giphis's most luxurious hotel and personally hosted by the Hughes Group, had drawn nearly half the city's elite—movers and shakers, along with every major partner the company had.

All of them gathered for one reason. To witness the announcement of the Hughes Group's next CEO.

"Wow, Mr. Hughes is absolutely gorgeous!"

"Not just good-looking—he is the whole package. Successful, devoted, and completely loyal to his wife, who has been bedridden for three years. He never so much as glanced at another woman. And get this—she was an orphan to begin with."

"My goodness, that woman hit the jackpot."

"Of course she did. Three years ago, even Raphael Nelson—the country's top medical expert—said there was no chance she would recover. Yet Mr. Hughes never lost hope. Honestly, without his stubborn refusal to give up, she wouldn't have lasted this long."

The hall buzzed with admiring whispers and sighs.

Carl soaked it all in, his chest swelling with pride almost without him noticing.

At that moment, Oliver Hall, the board's representative, stepped forward and addressed the crowd. "As everyone knows, our former CEO, Ms. Marsh, has been unable to fulfill her duties for three years due to her serious illness. The board has therefore decided to appoint a new leader to take over her responsibilities. And that new CEO is…"

Right as the suspense peaked, a sharp ringtone sliced through the silence, cutting him off.

Carl pulled out his phone. Seeing the hospital's name on the screen, he froze for a split second before answering.

A nurse's excited voice spilled through almost instantly. "Mr. Hughes, it's the hospital. Your wife has just woken up. When can you come see her?"

"What?" Carl's grip trembled so hard he nearly dropped the phone.

Ashlyn had woken up? That wasn't supposed to happen.

But not wanting to cause a scene, Carl quickly ended the call and flashed a tight smile at Oliver. "Just a trivial matter. Please, go on."

In his mind, he figured that as long as he locked down the shares first, it would already be too late—even if Ashlyn had miraculously opened her eyes.

Oliver nodded politely and carried on. "On behalf of the board, I am proud to formally appoint Mr. Carl Hughes as the new CEO of the Hughes Group."

The room erupted in enthusiastic applause once more.

"Mr. Hall, where do we sign the equity transfer agreement?" Carl asked quickly, his pulse racing now that he knew Ashlyn was awake.

Oliver shook his head. "Mr. Hughes, the contract won't be signed tonight."

"Not tonight? Then when?" Carl's face tightened, a flicker of unease creeping in.

"The official signing will happen at the press conference three days from now, where we'll announce it publicly. Tonight was simply the preliminary announcement." Oliver's calm explanation echoed in Carl's ears like a taunt.

Even after the banquet ended and he slid into the driver's seat of his sleek luxury car, Carl was still reeling, as if from a physical blow.

"Damn it."

He pounded the steering wheel with his fist, frustration boiling over.

"Carl, what's going on?" Paulina asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"The shares aren't mine yet—and Ashlyn woke up first," he muttered darkly, turning the key in the ignition. "We're heading to the hospital. We have to keep her quiet for now."

...

In the softly lit hospital room, Carl leaned in close, his voice a careful murmur. "Ashie, you've only just come around. The doctor says you need plenty of rest. Have a little something to eat first—you must be famished. Don't worry about the company at all. I'll take care of everything. You just focus on getting better in here."

Lying back against the pillows, Ashlyn watched Carl and Paulina fuss around her bedside in silence.

If she hadn't stayed conscious the whole time, she never would have believed that mere hours earlier, these same two people had been whispering betrayal right beside this very bed.

"Oh, yes, Ashie," Carl added smoothly, "I checked with the doctor a little while ago. He said you're still extremely fragile and shouldn't be around radiation from screens—it could slow your recovery."

He strolled over, clicked off the television, gave Ashlyn's nose a playful tap, and scooped up her phone with an affectionate smile. "No phone for now, either. It's not good for you. Just be a good girl and hang in there a few more days."

Until he had put his signature on that equity transfer and officially become CEO, Ashlyn could not—under any circumstances—be allowed to reach the outside world.

And the company absolutely could not learn that she was awake.

If they did, every scheme he had spun over the past three years would crumble like a house of cards.

"That's right, Ashie," Paulina chimed in gently. "Your health has to come first. With Mr. Hughes looking after the company, you can relax completely."

She delivered the reassurance with the ease of long practice, even brushing an invisible tear from the corner of her eye—no drop ever appeared, but her voice dripped with worry. "Ashie, those three years you were out… you can't imagine how terrified we were. Mr. Hughes and I both—we lived in fear you would never open your eyes again. We sat right here every single day, calling your name…"

In the past, those words would have melted Ashlyn's heart. But now, they turned her stomach.

"Is that so?" A soft, almost amused laugh escaped her lips. "During those three years of sleep… I think I do remember hearing your voices."

That one quiet sentence landed like a thunderbolt, sending an icy shiver racing down Carl's and Paulina's spines.

Could it be that Ashlyn had never truly slipped into oblivion during her coma—that she had been aware the entire time?

And if that were true, did she know every treacherous word they had whispered at her bedside just hours ago?

The flicker of raw panic on their faces only made the subtle smile playing at Ashlyn's lips grow a fraction wider.

"I can't quite tell if it was a dream or something real," she murmured, her voice soft and uncertain. "After everything faded to darkness, my mind just… went empty."

She let the words hang, deliberately tossing them a lifeline to ease their terror.

She wasn't ready to unmask them—not yet. Finishing this too soon would be letting them off the hook far too lightly.

She had built Carl up to this point herself; tearing it all down again would be child's play.

Only then did Carl and Paulina finally exhale, tension draining from their shoulders. They had been paranoid, reading too much into it.

"It's okay, Ashie," Carl said quickly, relief thick in his voice. "None of that matters now. Don't strain yourself trying to remember. The important thing is you're awake, and you're safe."

"Maybe we shouldn't press Ashie too hard right now," Paulina added with a gentle smile. "She has been through so much already. There'll be plenty of time to catch up later."

Terrified that more talk might jog unwanted memories, the pair scrambled for a flimsy excuse and hurried out of the room.

As they practically fled in a flurry of nerves, a cool, knowing smile curved Ashlyn's lips.

They actually believed confiscating one phone had trapped her in isolation. How laughably naive.

If Paulina had lingered a moment longer, she would have instantly recognized the sleek device now resting in Ashlyn's palm—it was hers.

Ashlyn unlocked it without hesitation and dialed a number she hadn't touched in years.

The last time she had made this call was seven years ago—right before she vanished from the Deity Syndicate.

The line connected almost instantly.

"Hello?"

Hearing that familiar voice, a faint, genuine smile tugged at Ashlyn's lips. She spoke softly, yet with unmistakable weight. "Michael."

"Miss Marsh!"

On the other end, Michael Gibson froze, the phone nearly slipping from his fingers.

That single word was all it took. No one else carried that quiet command, the kind that once made the entire underworld snap to attention.

Only the woman who had single-handedly ruled the global shadows deserved such instinctive reverence.

"Miss Marsh—it's really you! Seven years. Seven long years. Ever since you disappeared, we've searched everywhere. Things fell apart without you. Even petty outfits like Pale Blur have been walking all over us…"

Ashlyn lowered her gaze, her tone calm but edged with steel. "Spread the word. I'm back."

...

That very day, word ripped across the globe like wildfire that the long-lost heiress of the Deity Syndicate—the woman who had vanished without a trace for seven whole years—was finally coming back.

Night settled over Prexfield like a heavy velvet curtain.

The Willis family stood as one of the oldest, most shadowy arms dynasties in the continent, the unchallenged kings of the worldwide weapons trade.

On the global stage, their influence rivaled the Deity Syndicate's blow-for-blow.

Nothing of real importance slipped past their notice—not a single whisper on the international wind.

In the private study of the sprawling Willis estate, a tall, broad-shouldered man in crisp military uniform lounged at the wide worktable, his posture easy yet radiating quiet authority. This was Isaac Willis, the iron-fisted force steering the family's worldwide arms empire.

His features were sharp and arresting—clean-cut lines framing a gaze that burned with controlled intensity.

As always, he was sifting through the day's reports on family operations.

A sharp knock at the door snapped him out of his focus.

"Mr. Willis," came an urgent voice from the hallway. "We have news."

"Speak," Isaac said, his tone clipped and direct.

His subordinate stepped inside and wasted no time. "Mr. Willis, we've got a solid lead. We've found Ashlyn."

Isaac's fingers clenched around the pen until his knuckles blanched.

He wrestled his surging emotions back under control, but the edges of his eyes still betrayed him, turning a telltale red as he asked, "Where is she?"

"She is in Giphis—the biggest city in Arcridge."

Isaac slipped a hand into his pocket and drew out the photograph he always kept close.

He stared at the girl in the picture, her smile radiant and carefree, and something raw and fiercely possessive flared in his eyes—no longer leashed.

"Seven years," he murmured, voice low and rough. "Ashie, I've finally found you. This time, I'm never letting you out of my sight again."

Three days slipped by in the blink of an eye, and the long-awaited day of the press conference finally dawned.

That morning, Ashlyn remained reclined in her hospital bed, much as she had for days, idly scrolling through the latest news on the phone.

She was already fully aware of Carl's machinations. How he had skillfully swayed the shareholders into placing their trust in him, and how, at the press conference scheduled for that very morning, he intended to formally supplant her as the next CEO of Hughes Group.

If Carl coveted the position so desperately, she resolved silently, then she would grant him precisely what he desired.

As she gazed at the bold headlines blazing across the screen, a glint of something cold and perilous flashed through Ashlyn's eyes.

At that moment, a gentle knock echoed from the door.

"Ashie, it's me." Carl's voice sounded from the corridor, laced with practiced warmth.

"Come in," Ashlyn replied evenly.

With flawless composure, she slid the phone beneath the covers, concealing it from view.

The door swung open, and Carl entered bearing a steaming cup of broth, his demeanor solicitously calm.

"Ashie, these past three years must have taken such a toll on you. A few days of recovery simply isn't enough," Carl murmured, his tone measured and considerate as he extended the cup toward Ashlyn. "I prepared this myself—it should help restore your strength."

"It does smell wonderful. Thank you," Ashlyn answered, accepting the cup with a serene smile that never quite warmed her eyes.

The press conference was mere hours away; she harbored no illusions that Carl's sudden attentiveness sprang from genuine concern—especially not when he had found the time and patience to deliver this cup of soup personally.

She did not need even a moment's reflection to know the truth. The broth was heavily laced with sedatives—enough in a single cup to plunge an ordinary person into unconsciousness for days.

"After all we've shared, caring for you is the very least I can do. Go on, drink it. It will make you feel so much better," Carl continued smoothly.

Right before his watchful gaze, Ashlyn raised the cup to her lips and drained its contents without the slightest hesitation.

"Mmm… Carl," she said softly a few moments later, pressing a hand to her temple, "perhaps I'm still not fully recovered. I'm already beginning to feel drowsy."

Carl recognized the cue instantly; the sedative was taking hold. Rising promptly, he adopted an expression of tender concern. "Then rest, darling. You truly need it. I'll return to check on you later."

Before departing, he paused at the threshold for a prolonged moment, listening intently until Ashlyn's breathing slowed and deepened into the steady rhythm of sleep. Only when he was utterly convinced of her unconsciousness did he hurry away toward the press conference venue.

...

At ten o'clock that morning, the Hughes Group press conference commenced amid great pomp and grandeur.

The venue brimmed with formality and spectacle, drawing nearly every prominent figure in Giphis's commercial circles.

By the end of the day, Hughes Group would welcome a new leader.

Reporters and media representatives streamed into the hall in waves, cameras flashing and microphones at the ready.

"Congratulations, Mr. Hughes! After today, you'll be the youngest chief executive in all of Giphis!"

"Indeed—a CEO at such a young age. Truly remarkable. One can't help but admire the achievement."

"If truth be told, Mr. Hughes has earned it. While Ms. Marsh lay in a coma, he remained at her side yet still managed to keep the company steady."

"In my view, having a husband like Mr. Hughes is Ms. Marsh's greatest blessing. Even if she were to awaken this very instant, she would surely rejoice for him."

Impeccably dressed in a bespoke suit, Carl stood at the epicenter of adulation, Paulina radiant beside him in an exquisite gown, as influential business leaders encircled them with effusive praise.

Never before had Carl experienced such intoxicating pride.

In years past, these same luminaries had orbited solely around Ashlyn. He had trailed quietly in her shadow, overlooked and insignificant.

Having basked in the adulation long enough, Carl at last turned toward Oliver. "Mr. Hall," he said with a confident smile, "the moment has come. Shall we proceed with signing the agreement?"

Oliver nodded solemnly and leaned toward the microphone. "With the media fully assembled and the most prominent leaders of Giphis's business community bearing witness, I wish to make an official announcement. Owing to ongoing health concerns, Ms. Ashlyn Marsh is regrettably unable to continue fulfilling her responsibilities. By unanimous decision of the board, Mr. Hughes has been appointed to succeed her as the new Chief Executive Officer of Hughes Group."

Thunderous applause swept through the grand hall, a wave of approval that seemed to lift Carl even higher.

"Mr. Hughes, please join me on stage to sign the equity transfer agreement," Oliver added, extending a courteous gesture.

To the accompaniment of enthusiastic cheers and sustained clapping, Carl ascended the steps with barely contained exhilaration. His pulse raced as he grasped the pen, the weight of imminent triumph thrumming in his veins.

The company was mere seconds from becoming his irrevocably.

He poised the pen above the signature line, ready to commit his name to the document… almost there…

Just as the tip of the pen hovered over the paper, a woman's voice—cool, composed, and laced with a subtle, chilling amusement—cut through the hall from the main entrance.

"An equity transfer agreement? How curious. Why was I not informed of this press conference concerning Hughes Group?"

Every head in the venue swiveled toward the source of the interruption.

Carl, halted at the very cusp of victory, felt a flare of sharp irritation.

Who would dare disrupt such a pivotal moment? And since when did the Hughes Group owe anyone outside the inner circle advance notice of its proceedings?

His anger began to rise—until a sudden, profound hush descended over the entire assembly.

Following the collective gaze, Carl turned toward the entrance. The instant he recognized the woman framed in the doorway, his body went rigid, as though struck by lightning.

A cold sheen of sweat prickled across his back.

"Ashie?" he whispered, voice cracking with disbelief. "How… how could you possibly be here?"