After vanishing for thirty-six hours, Willa finally returned to Serenity Villa—drawn back by Bryan's relentless threats.

Her complexion was ghostly pale, lips drained of color. Alyssa hurried to place a steaming bowl of soup in front of her.

"Mrs. Scott, Mr. Scott said he'll be home tonight," Alyssa murmured gently. "I've got a delicious soup simmering on the stove. When evening comes, you can share it with him."

What Alyssa didn't mention was that she'd secretly stirred an aphrodisiac into the broth.

Having served the Scott family for more than ten years, she'd seen the couple drift further apart and quietly wished Willa would conceive soon—it might keep her place in the household secure.

But Willa barely seemed to hear Alyssa. Her gaze was unfocused, thoughts miles away.

When Bryan returned that night, the first thing he saw was Willa slumped over the table, her face nearly touching the soup.

"Feeling guilty and hiding from me now?" he demanded icily as he stalked forward, his palm slamming down on the table with a sharp crack that rang out across the silence.

Willa didn't flinch. "If anyone should have a guilty conscience, it's you. If you can show your face without shame, why shouldn't I?"

His eyes narrowed to slits, contempt curling his lips. "Don't do anything like this just to get my attention again. That night was a mistake. Stop entertaining delusions and start acting like the wife you're supposed to be."

She had always known he was cold by nature, but hearing him dismiss her years of devotion so easily made something knot painfully in her chest. The humiliation burned, yet she swallowed it down.

Without a word, she slipped the coat from his shoulders, folded it neatly over the chair, and retreated to the kitchen. Soon, the faint aroma of butter and garlic filled the air as she plated a simple serving of spaghetti and set it on the dining table.

"Eat while it's still warm," she said quietly. "I'm heading to bed. We'll visit Cody later this week, and I'll go along with your plans."

She didn't wait for his answer—just turned and disappeared down the hall, her footsteps fading into silence.

Bryan's eyes followed her retreating figure, his brow creasing. Even now, she endured everything in silence—never arguing, never fighting back, no matter how harshly she was treated.

The spaghetti had been handmade by her. Yet the moment he tasted it, he spat it out in disgust.

His expression darkened—of all things, she had added cilantro, the one flavor he loathed most.

By the time Jarrod's call came through, the bitterness still lingered on his tongue.

"Speak!" Bryan snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut glass.

For a split second, Jarrod stiffened, caught off guard. "Mr. Scott, we've caught the driver."

Bryan gave a low grunt of acknowledgment.

Drawing a steadying breath, Jarrod rushed on. "He was half-starved and spilled everything. It was… it was your mother, Mrs. Caitlin Scott, who had ordered him to take your wife to a hotel and arranged for someone to rape her to smear her name for good."

Inwardly, he couldn't make sense of it. Caitlin had never shown Willa much kindness, but this level of cruelty was beyond reason. It was downright vicious!

Bryan's lips curved into a cold sneer.

By Saturday evening at eight, he brought Willa back to Scott Mansion.

The moment they stepped inside, she slipped seamlessly into her dutiful act. She knelt beside Cody and massaged his legs, chatting with him in a practiced sweetness that made the old man laugh from ear to ear.

Caitlin kept her temper in check under Cody's watchful eyes. Ever since the driver's escape, unease had made her tread carefully around Bryan.

"I'll see if the kitchen needs a hand. Bryan, you and Willa haven't stayed the night here in ages—keep your grandpa company," she said, already edging toward the door.

Bryan's lips curved into a sharp smirk. "With so many household staff here, I don't see why you have to offer a hand. It seems like you're trying to avoid me."

The mask Caitlin wore slipped, her expression hardening in a blink. "Oh, dear, do you really have to sound so furious?"

Were it not for Cody's frail health, Bryan would've made her pay dearly. Still, he intended to remind her where her place was.

Not long after, Caitlin's phone rang—her father, Steven Lloyd, on the line. His voice trembled with anxiety. The Scott family had abruptly pulled hundreds of millions in investment, and he demanded to know what was going on.

Her stomach sank. She knew exactly why. Rage flickered in her eyes, but she bit her tongue, forcing the frustration down.

That evening, she skipped dinner, pressing a hand to her chest and claiming discomfort before retreating to her room.

Saul Scott, Bryan's father, questioned Bryan after dinner, his voice tight with restrained irritation. "What did you do to upset your mother?"

Bryan leaned back, unbothered. "Maybe she's guilty of something and can't bear to face anyone, so she's hiding behind an excuse."

Across the room, servants bustled about clearing dishes while Willa sat quietly in the living room, carefully peeling an orange for Cody. Saul's eyes flicked toward the scene before returning to Bryan, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his composure.

"What exactly are you implying?" he demanded in a measured tone.

Bryan's lips curved faintly. "Nothing serious. Just suggesting you keep your partner in check before she crosses the line. I've been under pressure lately. My coping mechanism is to lash out at people."

Saul's heart gave a sharp jolt. Bryan showed none of a son's respect toward Caitlin. Was it because he knew she wasn't his biological mother? Back then, circumstances forced him to part ways with Bryan's mother and wed Caitlin instead.

For more than twenty years, he kept that truth buried. Yet lately, he'd noticed the frost in Bryan's tone whenever Caitlin's name came up.

A plate of neatly peeled oranges appeared before Bryan.

He was fastidious—if the tiniest trace of that stringy white layer stuck to the fruit, he refused to eat it.

But Willa had peeled them with care, her soft smile bright under the warm light.

As she leaned closer, a faint, clean fragrance drifted between them.

Bryan's expression didn't shift as he picked up a slice and bit down, the citrus tang lingering on his tongue.

After a pause, he passed her the plumpest piece. "It's sweet," he said evenly. "Try it."

"I don't..." Before Willa could finish, he slipped the slice past her lips.

The sharp sourness exploded on her tongue, making her scalp prickle. She bit back a gasp, silently fuming. Of all people, Bryan had to be the most vindictive man she'd ever met.

The fact that Bryan hadn't had a child yet weighed heavily on Cody's mind.

Summoning the young couple into his study, he fixed them with a look of stern authority.

"Bryan, you and Willa have been married four years now," he said, voice carrying the weight of expectation. "Let's be frank—when are you two going to give me a great-grandchild?"

Willa's lips pressed into a thin line as her gaze flickered briefly to her own belly.

She didn't utter a word.

Bryan finally broke the silence. "Stuff like this doesn't happen overnight," he noted with a shrug.

"Utter nonsense!" Cody snapped, his cane thudding sharply against the floor. "You're just making excuses and brushing off what I've said."

A gentler look crossed his face as he shifted his gaze to Willa.

To him, she had always been the model granddaughter-in-law—gentle, patient, swallowing every grievance without complaint.

Without a hint of emotion, Bryan kept his face unreadable. "Grandpa, I'm just telling the truth. These things can't be rushed."

That only stoked Cody's irritation. He lifted the cane again and gave Bryan a firm tap on the shoulder.

"Enough out of you! Don't think I missed the news that made the rounds online last time..." He broke off mid-sentence, his tone flipping in an instant as he smiled kindly at Willa. "Ah, maybe my old eyes were fooling me. Willa, if this brat ever dares to mistreat you, you come straight to me."

Those words made Willa's chest tighten as she remembered the cold reception she had received from Bryan over the past four years. Her nose stung, and tears welled before she could stop them.

Standing close, Bryan wore a grim look, the crease between his brows growing sharper. "Seriously? You're crying over something this small?"

For a moment, Cody stiffened, convinced Bryan had actually done something unforgivable. "Apologize to Willa this instant," he commanded.

"Grandpa, I haven't wronged her. There's no reason I should be apologizing," Bryan countered, just as Cody's cane cracked against his knee.

A low grunt escaped him, his leg buckling from the blow.

Startled, Willa dabbed at her tears and quickly said, "No, really, it's nothing. A little bug flew into my eye, that's all."

Bryan shot her a frigid glance and muttered under his breath, "Willa, are you crying on purpose just so I'll get blamed?"

He dismissed her tears as another bout of needless dramatics.

"I'm sorry," Willa murmured, forcing a smile. "I didn't mean to—there really was a bug."

Cody drew in a slow breath and handed her a packet of tissues, his tone softening. "I'll give you two a little more time," he said meaningfully. "But don't forget—I'm still waiting for a great-grandchild."

Once they stepped out of the study, Willa slipped back into the guest room.

She opened her laptop, her fingers trembling as she typed—medical abortion risks during early pregnancy. Line after line filled the screen, each more terrifying than the last.

She was so absorbed that the faint sound of the door opening slipped right past her.

A tall shadow crossed the light behind her, the air shifting as someone came close enough for her to feel it—warm breath brushing the back of her neck, sending a chill through her spine.

Jolted by surprise, Willa slammed her laptop shut, pulse hammering in her ears.

"What are you looking at?" Bryan drawled, his tone sharp with suspicion. "You look like you've been caught red-handed. What's on there—something indecent?"

He leaned closer until his broad chest brushed against her narrow shoulders, the faint scent of cologne and heat closing in. His brows drew together as he realized how much weight she'd lost since the last time he'd held her.

Forcing calm, Willa slid the laptop to the side. She said coolly, "Just porn."

Bryan's mouth twisted into a smirk. "Porn, huh? Tell me, are you that desperate for intimacy? Or is it that I fail to satisfy you in bed, and now you've started watching garbage to make up for it?"

The dam of her restraint finally cracked. Four years' worth of frustration burned through her voice. "I used to think you were good-looking enough to make up for your flaws," she sneered. "Even if you didn't last long, I could live with it. But it turns out, you're terrible at it too. Guess I have to look elsewhere for satisfaction."

That fierce defiance had always been part of her. If not for being blinded by love back then, she would never have entangled herself with Bryan, no matter how rich he was.

Bryan's lip curled into a cruel sneer. "I'm not taking that."

Their closeness was suffocating. He could feel the soft press of her chest against him—unexpectedly full for her slight figure.

His voice dropped, low and dangerous. "You like crying in front of Grandpa so much? I can make you cry for real, and in a thousand different ways. Want me to prove it?"

Though he felt a physical pull toward her, he wrote it off as mere desire.

Despite herself, Willa's cheeks flushed, betraying both disbelief and the faint stir of heat his brazen words provoked.

Willa folded her arms, her voice dripping with disdain. "It seems even Cody knows about your little romance with Miss Wall. How do you plan to explain that? If you've got the guts to admit you cheated, I might even applaud you for your honesty."

Bryan's brows drew together as he shot back, "I didn't cheat."

Willa met his gaze coolly. "I know what I saw, Mr. Scott. From the moment you lit those fireworks for her and had your mother fussing over her, our marriage was finished."

Bryan arched a brow, voice dipping low. "Then tell me why your face is turning red. Grandpa mentioned he wanted a great-grandchild—what's your plan?"

His rough fingertips grazed her lips, the contact igniting a sudden desire within him

Without so much as a twitch, she kept her features locked in perfect stillness. "You won't even have kids with me, but we're still pretending this bullshit matters? Should I find another man to make that happen?"

His expression chilled like frost cutting through the air.

He hissed, "If you dare find another man, I'll tear the Fletcher family apart piece by piece."

A stabbing ache shot through Willa's chest. "Four years, Bryan. We've only shared a bed once. Even if Cody's desperate for a great-grandchild, I can't pull one out of thin air."

She knew that even if she told him about the pregnancy, he would dismiss it. And since she'd already decided on divorce, the abortion was only a matter of time.

Bryan's gaze drifted over her delicate face, his eyes narrowing. "So what you mean is, I haven't fucked you enough? Then maybe it's time I fix that."

He leaned in, his breath warm and sharp as he tried to claim her lips.

Her lashes trembled before she drove her heel into his foot. "If you're so desperate, go find Caylee. Whatever we had is already dead—you've got no right to touch me."

Pain shot up his leg, tightening every nerve in his body.

The tension in the air thickened as Bryan furrowed his brows.

Without warning, he seized her wrist and yanked her against his chest, forcing her back into his hold. His lips crashed down on hers, fierce and unrelenting, prying her mouth open as though to claim every ounce of defiance she had left.

Willa's knees nearly buckled, her body turning pliant under his grasp, sustained only by the firm pressure of his hand at her waist.

His breath came rough and uneven; his mouth consumed hers with bruising hunger, leaving her gasping for air as his other hand traced a reckless path along her trembling frame.

The room thickened with heat and tension—his ragged breathing tangled with her stifled sobs.

Then, the fragile stillness shattered when a sharp knock split the air. Bryan froze mid-motion, his fingers still caught in the fabric of her dress.

"Mr. Scott, your phone's been ringing—it's Miss Wall," a servant said, her voice slicing through the charged air.

The sound jolted Bryan back to himself. The heat in his gaze hardened to ice as he shoved Willa aside and strode to the door.

When he pulled it open, the servant froze, her cheeks flushing at the sight before her—Bryan's shirt askew, Willa's face scarlet as she fumbled to smooth her dress.

Bryan grabbed the phone and pressed it to his ear. Caylee's voice came through in soft, broken sobs.

"Bryan… my stomach hurts. Could you come to the hospital?"

The moment she finished speaking, the line went dead without warning.

The last trace of desire drained from Bryan's eyes. He turned toward Willa, who sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, her expression unreadable, a chill emanating from her like frost.

An uneasy irritation crawled up his chest. "I'm heading out. If Grandpa asks, tell him I went to the office."

Her quiet nod came without protest. She had long accepted that his heart belonged elsewhere. Whatever secret tryst awaited him beyond their walls no longer concerned her.

The part of her that once acted on love had finally gone still.

…

At the hospital, Caylee gripped the sleeve of Bryan's coat with trembling fingers. "I'm sorry, Bryan. I shouldn't have called, but the nausea was awful, and I almost fell in the shower. I panicked… Could you stay a while?"

Her every gesture carried practiced fragility—the faint quiver in her lashes, the tremor in her voice, and the way she leaned just enough to invite his sympathy.

Bryan glanced down at his phone, finding the screen blank—no new messages, no missed calls.

"Get some rest," he said evenly, pulling the blanket over her shoulders. "Don't think too much." He sat beside her, his presence distant despite his nearness.

Caylee hesitated, teeth worrying her lip before she lifted the edge of the blanket. "Why don't you lie down? I don't mean anything by it—I just don't want you to be uncomfortable sitting there."

"There's no need," he replied curtly. "Once you're asleep, I've got to go. I've got things to handle."

Her forced smile barely held. "Do you have to go? Is it because of Willa?" she murmured.