Along the way out, Nicole stayed close to Connor. Other obligations tugged at her attention, so she didn't plan to leave with him. After settling him into the car, she let out a light, amused laugh and said, "Thanks for showing up today, Connor. I honestly didn't expect it—and seeing Erika and the others so completely crushed was… new for me."

From his seat, Connor tilted his head and studied her expression. That smile of hers carried an easy, disarming warmth. With a lazy curve to his lips, he drawled, "Next time, don't act so cocky just because you think someone's got your back."

Heat crept up Nicole's neck, and she lowered her gaze, a trace of embarrassment tightening her fingers.

...

Outside the Perry residence, Nicole crossed paths with Jerald, who had arrived to pick up Erika, the car slowing as it pulled alongside her.

The window glided down, exposing a face unchanged by time—the very likeness of the man Nicole had once loved more than anyone. Despite the numbness she'd wrapped around herself, a faint ripple still moved through her chest.

Still burning from her recent humiliation and nursing her grudge, Erika pressed herself into Jerald's embrace, angling for a kiss with deliberate sweetness in Nicole's presence.

It had been a while since Jerald last saw Nicole. Their previous encounter at the hotel had ended badly, after which she vanished from his world without a word. Plagued by a sensitive stomach, he remembered how Nicole used to quietly cook light, careful meals just for him. Even while juggling work and tending to her mother, she had always carved out time to see him, currying favor with everyone around him for the chance of a single glance at him.

More than once, his friends had commented that she outshone Erika by far.

But proud of his principles, Jerald believed himself unwavering in his love for Erika and harbored a particular contempt for Nicole, resenting her for knowingly clinging to her cousin's boyfriend. Even so, a strange unease had lingered during Nicole's absence, leaving him unsettled in ways he couldn't explain.

He didn't pull away when Erika kissed him, yet his eyes betrayed him, drifting toward Nicole involuntarily. Standing off to the side, quiet and forlorn, Nicole stirred something tight and uncomfortable in his chest. The ache caught him off guard, and he couldn't pinpoint where it had come from.

Heavy clouds pressed low overhead, the air thick with the promise of rain. Putting on a show of concern, Erika insisted, "Jerald, Nicole's heading out too. It looks like it might rain—why don't we give her a ride?"

Under normal circumstances, Jerald would have shut the idea down immediately. But Erika had misjudged his soft spot; with the weather turning, he relented and allowed Nicole into the car.

The moment Nicole started climbing into the backseat, irritation flickered across Erika's face. Nicole struggled to settle in, and the car rocked more than once before finally going still.

With a sharp, mocking laugh, Erika glanced at Jerald and remarked, "You really should've chosen a more spacious one. Look how hard Nicole's trying just to sit down."

Crowding herself into the seat, Nicole turned her head toward the passing streetlights, her expression unreadable. Once upon a time, she had loved Jerald deeply, and every reminder of her gained weight used to stab her with quiet humiliation. Now, she felt perhaps this situation was for the best—only by being bruised beyond repair could she finally loosen her grip on the past.

When the vehicle rolled to a stop outside the shopping mall, Nicole pushed the door open and stepped out without offering a single word.

Although she felt Jerald's eyes linger on her back, nothing stirred in her chest. Since his heart had already settled elsewhere, it no longer mattered whether his memories of their shared past ever returned. He was preparing to marry her cousin, while she was already bound to someone else. Whatever they once shared had ended completely.

...

Nicole walked into the shopping mall and purchased a smartphone designed specifically for users with visual impairments. Some of the accessibility functions felt clunky and overly sensitive, but Connor was only twenty-six—sharp-minded and adaptable—so picking it up shouldn't take him long.

Even so, she saved her number as an emergency contact, unwilling to leave anything to chance.

After stopping by the market for fresh ingredients, she returned home and went straight to look for Connor, only to freeze when the door opened on the cold barrel of a gun aimed at her.

Stunned into silence, she watched as Connor lounged in his wheelchair, casually lowering the gun and spinning it around his long fingers with lazy, unnerving ease.

Recognition hit her instantly—it was her own self-defense device! Unease crept up her spine as she queried, "How did you get that?"

Any instinct to defend herself died on the spot, and after biting her lower lip, she chose the truth. "It's not a real gun. It just shoots fire. I carry it to protect myself."

With deliberate provocation, Connor tilted his head and pressed on. "You remembered to bring it with you when you came here, yet forgot to take it when you left. So tell me, Nicole, who exactly were you planning to protect yourself from?"

Tension tightened her throat as she blurted out, "I stay on guard around everyone. It isn't something I do just to you."

Only then did Connor take in her damp hair and the cling of wet fabric against her skin. Any trace of playfulness faded from his face as he lowered his hand and set the toy gun aside. "You don't need to do this again. No man in their right mind would start trouble with someone who's clearly stronger than they are."

Nicole stared at Connor, words stuck in her throat. After a brief pause, she chose to let it go—there was no point expecting courtesy from a man with a disability who'd been shut away in a forgotten house for so long.

Noticing he hadn't taken offense over the toy gun, her shoulders loosened, and she pulled out a chair across from him. "I picked up a phone for you," she said gently. "Want to give it a try?"

Connor offered no verbal reply, yet the quiet consent in his expression was clear enough. Nicole unboxed the device and patiently walked him through the basics, her fingers moving as she showed him ways to pass the long hours.

Lifting her eyes, she asked, a faint smile touching her lips, "Do you want to set a fingerprint lock? It'll help keep your privacy safe."

Forgetting that the rain-soaked fabric clung tightly to her figure, Nicole failed to realize that from Connor's vantage point, the alluring curve of her breasts was plainly visible.

To Connor, women's bodies rarely differed much, yet paired with her lucid, unguarded eyes, the sight struck him as strangely disarming. An inexplicable feeling rose within him. Even so, telling her outright to fix her clothes was out of the question.

Turning his eyes away, he replied coolly, "Fine. Go ahead and set it up."

Without hesitation, Nicole caught his hand and swiftly finished the setup herself.

Rainwater still clung to her skin, yet her fingers were unexpectedly warm, faintly damp in a way that softened the contact—mirroring her own flushed vitality.

Around her, Connor felt an inexplicable pull, and the sensation unsettled him more than he cared to admit. Pulling his hand back, he rubbed his fingers together and said with practiced indifference, "Don't touch me again."

She froze for a second before giving a small, compliant nod. "Got it. I'll be more careful next time."

Resting in Connor's palm, the newly bought phone looked plain enough, yet it felt unusually heavy because it carried her quiet concern. His gaze lowered to the device as he queried, "Why did you bother buying this for me?"

With sincere eyes, Nicole answered softly, "There aren't many things someone who can't see can enjoy. I just wanted you to have something that might make you feel a little better."

He was no fool by sweet words and could tell that it wasn't the whole picture of her intention. "That makes sense," he replied casually, his voice laced with detachment. "After all, there was still a massive sum waiting to be settled."

Hearing those words, Nicole pursed her lips, at a loss for what to say.

...

To return Nicole's thoughtfulness, Connor arranged for dozens of outfits to be delivered, enough to fill the room and give her endless choices. Along with the clothes, he handed her a bank card.

Thinking back on the three hollow years she had thrown away, Nicole accepted the card without hesitation and said earnestly, "You don't have to worry. I know your money doesn't come easily. I won't waste a cent."

Money meant little to Connor, and he waved her words off with casual indifference. "Use it however you want."

Once settled, Nicole took her place seriously, carrying herself with the quiet diligence of a wife determined to do things right.

Most days, Connor was nowhere to be found, occupied with business affairs carried out under a different identity.

Out of caution, Connor ordered his men to thoroughly inspect the phone Nicole brought for him. The report came back clean, with nothing suspicious detected. From all appearances, Nicole truly wanted to please him.

Samuel grinned and lobbed a joke. "Mr. Reed, since you're officially playing husband now, shouldn't you do some homework? Want me to download some adult films for your studies?"

With a blank face, Connor answered coolly, "Fine—on one condition. You're starring in them."

Setting the banter aside, Samuel turned solemn and said quietly, "Ms. Perry doesn't pose a risk to you, but she's naive and lacks experience. Do you really think she can handle the Reed family's schemes?"

Nicole's background report truly looked unremarkable—too ordinary, almost dull.

Connor gave a measured snort and replied flatly, "Turning a fridge full of leftovers into a decent-looking breakfast takes more than you think. That alone tells me she's not as ordinary as she appears."

With a dry laugh, Samuel shot back, "You can't seriously expect her to cook a meal that wipes out the entire Reed family, can you?"

Connor leaned back, his expression unreadable. "Then go find me a female superhero who can blow up Reed Manor."

The comeback left Samuel staring at him in stunned silence.

Just then, the sharp ring of Connor's new phone cut through the room.

One of his subordinates, who had just wrapped up the inspection, accidentally answered the call.

Through the speaker came Nicole's soft, careful voice. "Mr. Reed, are you done for the day? I've got dinner ready. Would you like me to come get you?"

The room abruptly went still, curiosity and quiet relief flickering across every face at the thought of Connor's marriage. Even as gossip simmered beneath the surface, there was unmistakable satisfaction in knowing their aloof boss no longer stood alone.

Hearing Nicole's words through the line, Connor responded evenly, "No need. I'll head back later."

Nicole replied, "Then I'll see you near the entrance."

"That works," he said simply.

Once the call disconnected, the silence in the room deepened instead of easing.

A faint crease appeared between Connor's brows, yet he made no effort to address the awkward tension. Sliding the Braille phone into his pocket, he turned and left without another word.

Samuel gathered his belongings and trailed after Connor, only to hear a colleague chuckle behind him. "Ms. Perry seems like a genuinely nice woman. Samuel, why did you reduce her to someone ordinary?"

With a sideways glare sharp enough to cut, Samuel snapped back, "Shut up."

...

Within days, the long-neglected house shed its hollow silence and took on a new life, as if someone had finally breathed warmth into its bones.

Every surface gleamed, fresh furniture softened the space, and under the mellow glow of the lights, Nicole drifted from room to room, quietly stitching the house into something that felt unmistakably like home.

At dinner, she calmly went over their recent expenses, her tone measured and efficient, offering only what mattered and leaving out every unnecessary flourish.

After hearing her report, Connor replied evenly, "There's no need to account for every expense. Use the money however you like."

Recent years of scraping by had shaped Nicole's habits, especially after her mother's sudden death left her worn down and cautious, so Connor's effortless trust settled over her like an unexpected warmth. "Thank you," she said softly.

Connor offered no reply and headed to the bathroom once dinner was finished.

Stepping inside, he halted in mild surprise at the remodeled space—brightly colored bottles lining the counter, the air faintly scented, and every towel swapped out for an unmistakable shade of pink.

A quiet sigh escaped him as his eyes drifted shut, resignation written plainly across his face. It seemed Nicole could be timid to the point of yielding at times, yet she'd flip into a startling, reckless boldness when she shouldn't be.

Left with no real alternative, he emerged from the shower wrapped in a soft pink towel, only to find that she had already laid out a robe and stepped close to help him slip into it.

For reasons he couldn't quite explain, he didn't stop her hands or refuse her quiet attentiveness.

Nicole had assumed that his years of disability would have left him with a withered physique, yet the figure exposed beneath the loose towel told another story—solid muscle defined his chest, and his shoulders looked broad and powerful in a way his clothes had never revealed.

Despite never having cared much for men, a faint tension curled in her stomach all the same. That unease sharpened when her gaze betrayed her, catching the unmistakable outline at his crotch area, vivid enough to leave far too much to the imagination.

A chill skittered down Nicole's spine as she thought that it was a good thing he was supposedly impotent; otherwise, she honestly suspected she might not have survived their wedding night without collapsing from sheer exhaustion.

Completely unaware of the wild direction her thoughts had taken, Connor shifted topics with effortless calm. "Next month, we'll be paying a visit to my family. Make sure you're ready."

Her hands stilled mid-movement before she straightened and answered with unexpected gravity, "Okay. You don't have to worry—I'll make sure no one touches you."

Connor had no response.

Right then, Nicole's phone vibrated, and when she saw Erika's name flash across the screen, the faint warmth on her face vanished, replaced by a guarded, serious look.

Erika's tone was bright and sugary as she said, "Nicole, you didn't forget my birthday, did you? I'm hosting a party next week—you have to be there."

The casual mention of the birthday celebration dragged up old memories, and Nicole felt the familiar sting of past humiliation tightening in her chest.

Fully aware of where Nicole's nerves lay exposed, Erika had always used such gatherings to flaunt herself, turning Nicole into quiet entertainment for the crowd.

Having waited far too long for a chance to retaliate, Nicole didn't hesitate when the invitation landed; lifting her chin, she replied evenly, "Of course. I'll be there."

A man's voice drifted faintly through the receiver, low and impatient in the background. With an affected laugh, Erika drawled, "I've got to go—Jerald's calling again. He's been insatiable lately, acting without restraint just because he's young."

Without a word, Nicole ended the call, her fingers tightening as the screen went dark.

Connor caught every flicker of her reaction and let out a soft, mocking scoff. "That strong of a response?" he asked coldly. "What is it—do you and her boyfriend share some kind of past?"