Gwendolyn Morris had just returned home when her phone buzzed with a notification. She glanced at the screen and saw an eye-popping figure: one hundred and twenty thousand dollars. Her jaw dropped in disbelief at the sum.

After a moment, she closed the message, kicked off her shoes, and hung her coat on the hook by the door. She settled onto her bed and called Marco Griffin on WhatsApp. Marco answered almost instantly, his smooth voice coming through the speaker.

“Gwendolyn, did you get my payment?”

“Mr. Griffin, this amount is excessive; it doesn’t feel right,” she replied.

Marco chuckled softly. “It's calculated based on your boyfriend's earnings. Besides, there's no such thing as 'too much.'”

Joey’s income was indeed substantial, but not to that extent. Gwendolyn was never one to believe in something for nothing and was cautious of people being overly generous without reason. As she pondered how to handle the situation, Marco’s voice broke her thoughts. “I can explain it better in person. I'm actually near your place; let's meet up.”

The area around Gwendolyn’s neighborhood was mostly filled with bustling eateries, not ideal for a chat, so they decided to meet in his car.

As soon as she got in, she caught a faint whiff of whiskey on Marco. He smiled and said, “I was at a whiskey tasting tonight and had a couple of glasses. I was just passing by your neighborhood.”

His explanation put her a little more at ease. She pulled out her phone. “Why don’t you give me your account info? I’ll send back the excess money.”

There was a pause, and she looked up to see the colorful city lights reflecting in the car, casting a glow over Marco’s face. He was looking at her with a gentle expression, which made her slightly uneasy. Doubts crept back into her mind. She spoke directly, “Mr. Griffin, I have a boyfriend, so I’m not entertaining anyone else’s advances.”

Marco remained silent, his eyes soft but now with a hint of seriousness, a faint smile on his lips. His silence made her more unsettled, until suddenly Marco’s smile widened. He laughed lightly, a touch of mischief in his eyes as he shook his head.

“Gwendolyn, did you really think I was making a move on you? My apologies…”

Despite the potential awkwardness, his demeanor was sincere and oddly charming. He leaned back, folding his arms, and asked earnestly, “Then tell me, why would I be pursuing you?”

Gwendolyn was caught off guard, momentarily speechless. Yes, why would someone like Marco chase after her? And using such indirect methods, no less. Was she being overly confident?

But her instincts were usually accurate, and she had a strong sense that Marco wasn’t entirely indifferent. Yet, she couldn’t pinpoint the reasons.

In the car, it was just the two of them. Boone had stepped out when she got in. The atmosphere felt charged.

Marco leaned in slightly, his face closer than before, just watching her with those gentle eyes. One second, two seconds, three—and then Marco grinned. “You didn’t think I was going to kiss you, did you?”

He straightened up, retreating to a safe distance, when Gwendolyn surprised him. She reached out, hooking a finger inside his collar, pulling him back down. Their noses nearly touched; she could see each of his eyelashes.

Marco’s heart raced, his pulse quickening in a way he hadn’t experienced before. He was unsure of Gwendolyn's intentions, but a sense of anticipation built up within him.

Just as the tension peaked, she turned slightly, her lips brushing his cheek as she whispered in his ear, “You didn’t think I was going to kiss you, did you?” She echoed his words back.

She pushed him away, leaning back with an easy smile. “Mr. Griffin, I'm not interested in a game of push and pull. There can be many reasons behind a pursuit. Let’s make tonight our last meeting. We come from different worlds; there’s no need to force it.”

It felt like the game was over.

Gwendolyn exited the car and shut the door. Before walking away, she leaned back down, waved her phone at him, and said, “Since you’re not worried about the money, Mr. Griffin, I’ll keep the compensation.”

For the first time, Marco found himself flatly turned down by a woman. Yet, despite the rejection, he wasn’t angry; instead, he felt an irresistible urge to pull her back and hold her close.

His eyes lingered on her retreating figure, noticing how sensitive she was to the cold. During their visit to the retirement home when the weather unexpectedly warmed up, most women had switched to lighter clothing, but Gwendolyn had worn a thick coat. And during most of their encounters, she had been bundled up in a wool parka.

March in the north wasn’t exactly warm, but it wasn’t cold enough to warrant a heavy coat every day. The only time he had seen her in regular attire was when they first met—she wore a light gray sweater over black leggings, rushing to help her boyfriend.

“Does she really care for him that much?” Marco wondered aloud as he watched her enter her building.

His phone buzzed beside him. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and answered.

Chandler Hunter’s voice came through excitedly, “Marco, I found something. I knew I’d seen that woman, Gwendolyn Morris, before. I’m headed your way now. I’ll be there in twenty minutes with some confidential info.”

An hour later, Marco sat in his study, a manila envelope marked "confidential" in front of him. Chandler's so-called “confidential” file turned out to be just two pages.

Marco glanced over the sheets, his eyes widening, his grip on the pages tight until his knuckles turned white.

The file contained information on a crime—a case of two deaths and one survivor. The deceased were a trafficker and a kidnapped young woman, while the survivor was Gwendolyn, who had narrowly escaped from the mountains where she had been held captive. When rescued, she was severely injured.

Gwendolyn’s ordeal had begun during her college summer break, when she had helped a stranger in distress—a decision that led to her abduction.

After reading, Marco picked up a lighter and watched as the papers caught fire, reducing them to ash. He stared at the burning flame, his previously feigned gentleness now replaced by a somber darkness.

“So, you’re a survivor of great trials,” he murmured to himself. “Having already faced one ordeal, I’ll spare you another.”

Watching the ashes smolder in the tray, he whispered four words, “The game is over.”

That night, Marco Griffin didn’t sleep well.

Following the doctor’s advice, he took the prescribed sleeping pills. Yet, despite them, he found himself lost in a labyrinth of dreams.

In his dream, his younger self was curled up inside a wardrobe. His mother's voice came from the other side of the door, soothing and coaxing, "Little Marco, mommy's coming to get you. I’ll find you soon."

The fear and terror he felt turned into tears streaming down his cheeks. Clutching his knees with one hand and desperately covering his mouth with the other, Marco tried to suppress any sound.

The gentler her voice became, the more it filled him with dread. "Stop playing hide and seek, come out and I'll take you to see daddy, okay?"

Suddenly, the wardrobe doors flung open, and blinding sunlight streamed through the windows, catching Marco in the face, leaving him nowhere to hide.

His mother smiled, taking his hand in a warm voice, "Got you, now let's go find daddy."

Little Marco cried even harder, pulling back, trying to wrestle free from her grip. Her demeanor twisted into something frightening as she tightened her hold on him, tears brimming in her eyes. She demanded, "Why are you afraid to see your dad? Why won't you help me? Why do you all want to separate me from my husband?!"

The commotion attracted others in the mansion. A woman dressed like someone out of a Victorian novel burst onto the scene, slapping Marco's mother across the face. She clutched little Marco protectively, unleashing a tirade, "Even a tigress wouldn't harm her own cubs! That beast Hawk Griffin will destroy my grandson, you idiot! What have I done to deserve a daughter like you?!"

His mother shook her head frantically, urgently explaining, "No, no, that's not it. Hawk wouldn't harm little Marco. He's just too angry. Once he calms down, he'll forgive me. Everything will be fine. He won’t bring up divorce again."

The dream shifted, now showing little Marco’s head being forcibly pushed underwater in a swimming pool. Endless water filled his lungs, and no matter how he struggled, he couldn’t escape the grip on his head. The man who promised to teach him to swim whispered with malice, "Your mother's actions destroyed the one I loved most. So I will take away what she loves, so she knows the pain of loss."

Little Marco's strength faded, his eyes closed, and he stopped fighting.

There was a splash, someone had jumped in, pulling him free from Hawk's grip. He drifted in and out of consciousness, hearing a familiar voice gently calling, "Mr. Griffin, do you want to kiss me? Wake up, and I’ll let you take a bite."

Marco snapped awake, sitting up abruptly.

The room was shrouded in darkness, yet he could still see Gwendolyn Morris’ smiling face from the first time they met.

She was playfully pinching Joey’s nose, telling him, "Joey, it's time to go home."

"Time to go home."

"Time to go home."

Why did even someone like Joey, who got so drunk that other women had to take him home, still have a place to call home? And yet, Marco felt forever alone.

A bitter resentment filled him—towards everything, towards every couple in love, towards the absence of anyone who truly loved him.

In the shadows, his eyes burned like those of a cornered animal. It took a long while for the night to calm his turbulent emotions. Closing his eyes, he shook away the image of Gwendolyn.

He had made his decision to end this charade. Though not a good man, he wasn’t cruel enough to hurt someone like her, who had already been through so much.

Reaching for his phone on the bedside table, he opened WhatsApp. What had she said earlier that evening? Oh yes, she hoped tonight would be their last meeting.

Marco let out a humorless chuckle, typing a single word in reply: "Alright."

As soon as he hit send, a large red exclamation mark popped up on his phone screen.

He couldn't help but laugh in frustration, "Dammit!"

After parting ways with Gwendolyn Morris, Marco Griffin's life returned to its usual drab and monotonous pace. He punched in at 8 a.m. and clocked out by 9 p.m., finding his only pleasure in occasionally annoying his father and brother. But even that had lost its charm.

He felt a reckless urge to blow everything up, taking everyone down with him, yet he knew it wasn't the right time. Reclining in his executive chair, he rubbed his temples, trying to steady his impulses: Don’t be rash, he reminded himself. If he planned to topple them, they shouldn’t have any chance to recover.

Boone Williams entered the room with Chandler Hunter trailing closely behind, though Chandler reached Marco first. He was casual and informal, especially around Marco, perching on Marco’s desk and flipping his laptop closed with a flick of his hand.

“Marco, you’ve been cooped up here for days. Nursing a broken heart? That Morris girl hasn't even fallen for you yet, and here you are, already hung up on her. That's not like you at all.”

Marco glanced up lazily, “You think I’m just sitting around doing nothing?”

Boone finally caught up and stood with his legs apart, arms crossed, adding, “Mr. Hunter, the Griffin Group has been in crisis lately; sir is quite busy.”

Chandler, being the youngest of three brothers, had been raised with the care and attention for a daughter his parents never had. Naturally adventurous and always seeking thrills, Chandler had little interest in business matters and was oblivious to the recent chaos within the Griffin Group.

Unfazed, Chandler shrugged, “You don’t have to depend on the Griffin family. Let them handle their own chaos; we’ll have our drinks.” He checked his wristwatch, “Three hours left. Let's get going.”

He tried to pull Marco out of his seat, but Marco didn’t budge.

Marco allowed Chandler to hold his wrist, his gaze steady. “Three hours until what?”

Chandler let go, frustrated. “You forgot? You actually forgot! It’s your birthday, man. Three hours until your birthday. I’ve booked a room at The Monarch for us. Just the old crew, time to catch up.”

The mention of “The Monarch” made Marco’s eyes narrow instinctively. It was where Joey Davis, Gwendolyn’s boyfriend, worked. It had been two months since Marco last saw Gwendolyn.

Strangely, he once dreamed about her, but over time, she only crossed his mind during idle moments. Occasionally, he felt a strong urge, but each time he opened WhatsApp and saw the glaring red exclamation mark, he would suppress those thoughts.

He figured that, being no saint himself, he shouldn’t disrupt an angel, for every demon has its own place. Still, when Chandler reached out now, Marco stood up, saying, “Let’s go. To The Monarch.”

In the bustling streets, they passed cozy cafes filled with the inviting aroma of fresh brew. Marco mused about the casual elegance of his Victorian-style suit, perfectly blending with the crowd. It was the eve of Thanksgiving, a time for family and gratitude, but Marco wrestled with his inner conflict, torn between desires and responsibilities.

Upon arriving at The Monarch, they were greeted by the comforting scent of spiced honey cakes and pulled pork, along with the cheerful chatter of familiar faces. Marco spotted Joey across the room, chatting animatedly with guests over steaming mugs of coffee. The ambiance was warm, yet Marco’s thoughts drifted back to Gwendolyn.

As he settled into the evening’s rhythm, Marco felt the weight of decisions yet to be made. Amid the laughter and shared memories, he realized he needed to find his place within this complex web of relationships and choices.