It was already past nine when Charles finally wrapped up work and returned to the villa.

As soon as he got back, he asked about Ashley's situation that afternoon. After George's report, he gave a small nod of approval.

While they talked, Charles had already arrived outside Ashley's room.

He waved George off, and the latter bowed slightly before turning to leave.

Inside, hearing the click of the doorknob turning, Ashley instinctively tensed up by the door, tightening her grip around the utensil in her hand. Her palms were sweating, and her hands kept trembling-this was her first time doing anything like this.

With a muffled "click," the door opened from the outside, and Charles stepped in.

"Don't move!" Ashley jumped out from beside the door, hands trembling as she pointed a dinner fork straight at his stomach.

She had originally aimed for his neck-artery and all-but well, the height gap was... not in her favor.

"Sir!" The guards stationed at the door instantly rushed in, surrounding her.

"Stay back! One more step and your boss might not walk out of here alive!" Ashley yelled, pretending like she might stab him at any moment, though her hand shook visibly.

The guards hesitated, looking ready to tackle her.

"Leave," Charles said coldly, tone sharp.

"But sir..." The guards didn't dare budge, eyes still locked on Ashley's fork.

"Did I stutter? Get out." He didn't even spare them a glance; his full attention was on the woman before him. It should've been just another day, but somehow, the way she tried to kill him... made his chest ache a little.

"Yes, sir." They exchanged a few uncertain glances before stepping out, clearly uneasy.

"You going to kill me now?" Alone with her, Charles angled his head toward Ashley, eyes dark and unreadable, so intense it made her almost drop the fork on the spot.

"I didn't want this... You pushed me into it..." She shook her head as she spoke, voice cracking with emotion. Even though her knees felt weak from fear, she forced herself to appear tough, blurting out, "If you've got any sense, let me go now... or I won't be the one held responsible for what this fork might do."

Charles shut his eyes tight for a moment, then suddenly took a step forward. The move startled Ashley-she gasped, eyes wide. That fork in her hand almost jabbed into his stomach. She screamed and stumbled back, panic written all over her face. "You-you..."

"With that shaky hand, you think you can really kill me?" His voice was calm, almost bored. He stepped closer, crowding her backward until-bam-she hit the wall, hard.

He towered over her, trapping her between his chest and the wall. Looking down at the top of her head, his voice lowered with subtle amusement and something darker. "Want me to show you how it's done?"

"No need!" Ashley shrank in on herself, trying to sound fierce but it came out weak and panicked. "You better let me go right now or you'll see blood! Knife bloody in-no, wait-clean in, bloody out-ugh, whatever!"

She looked like she was going to cry from her own idiotic mix-up. Ugh! She wasn't trying to be a joke, seriously-it was just nerves!

Trying to pull herself together, she forced a straight face. "Look, this knife doesn't care who it stabs. If you get hurt, don't say I didn't warn you!"

"Really?" He let out a low chuckle, all patience gone. In one swift move, Charles grabbed her wrist, easily twisting her arm until the fork slipped from her grasp.

She barely had time to blink. Just like that-boom-he had her. For real? That fast? Couldn't she have at least gotten one hit in?

"I wasn't ready this time," she snapped back, trying to save face. "But if you keep me locked up here, sooner or later, I'll find a way to kill you!"

"You want me dead that badly?" Charles narrowed his eyes, grip tightening just a bit on her wrist.

"I'd kill you right now if I could!"

"Go ahead then. Be my guest," he said flatly. He reached over and grabbed a small fruit knife from the table, swapping it with the fork in her hand. "Take this-easier to get the job done."

Ashley stared, completely baffled. "What is this supposed to mean?"

He didn't say anything. Just took her hand, now holding the knife, and pressed the blade right over his heart.

"Just aim here. One good push-and you're free."

"You... you seriously think I won't do it?" Ashley's hand trembled more as she gripped the knife. What on earth was this guy playing at?

"Go ahead, give it a try." Charles guided her hand, the tip of the blade digging slightly into his chest.

This was a standoff between them-he was betting on his life. If she really did it, he'd admit defeat.

"You're crazy!" Ashley freaked out as his blood quickly seeped through his white shirt. The knife dropped from her hand.

This guy didn't play by the rules at all!

Normally when someone tries to stab you, wouldn't you stop them? Who does something this insane-pushing the knife into themselves?

"Didn't you say you wanted to kill me? Well, here's your chance. Why'd you back off?" Charles clenched her hand in his, not letting her pull away.

Come on, she wasn't actually trying to stab him! Even if you gave her all the guts in the world, she couldn't go through with it!

She just wanted to threaten him so he'd let her go. Worse case, if she failed, surely he'd be too paranoid to keep someone like her-a ticking time bomb-around.

But he didn't react like a normal person at all. Instead, he actually helped her stab him?!

Completely nuts!

"Let go! You're hurting me!" Ashley struggled harder, trying to wrench her hand from his grip.

As she fought him off, Charles's grip just got tighter.

Does it hurt? Guess what, the pain you're feeling doesn't even come close to what you've done to me.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Can't you see you're bleeding? Do you not care if you die?" Ashley's voice wavered, panic rising as more blood soaked through his now scarlet shirt. She reached out, trembling, trying to put pressure over the wound.

"Oh, dying would make things easier for you, wouldn't it?" Charles stared at her clumsy movements and let out a bitter laugh, hollow and broken.

God knows-even if she hated him, she'd never truly wished him dead!

Watching her flustered and helpless, Charles felt something burst inside. He finally let go of her hand, snatched the blood-stained fruit knife, and stormed out of the room.

"Sir, what happened?" George hurried over when he saw him covered in blood.

"Call Kevin," Charles said, gritting his teeth through the pain.

"Yes, right away!" George didn't dare waste a second. He grabbed his phone and dialed Kevin's number.

Kevin White was the Blackwood family's private doctor. He was just in his early thirties, but already had a solid reputation in the field.

Fifteen minutes later, he arrived.

"Luckily the wound's not too deep. I've treated it, and it should heal up in a while. Just make sure it stays dry over the next few days." Kevin wrapped up the wound neatly.

Charles sat there shirtless, a white bandage wrapped diagonally from his shoulder to his waist.

His mind was still with Ashley. She really wanted to get away from here, huh? Probably for that other guy. The thought ignited a jealous rage he couldn't shake.

"Everything okay, sir?" After Kevin left, George helped him pull on his robe, his voice full of concern.

"You think some tiny cut like this would take me down?" Charles fired back with an icy glance.

"No, sir, that's not what I meant." George hesitated, then decided to speak on Ashley's behalf. "I don't think Miss Carter really wanted to hurt you. The stab wasn't that deep."

"I stabbed myself," Charles replied coldly.

"What? You...?" George was completely stunned-it never crossed his mind that Charles had done it to himself.

Charles glanced down at the neatly bandaged wound and fell silent. Deep down, he knew-even if she'd stabbed him to death last night, he couldn't bring himself to lay a finger on her.

"I don't want this to get back to my parents," he said, getting up and slipping into his pajama top.

"I understand," George replied quickly. He knew Charles was just trying to protect Ashley. After all, Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood had never liked her to begin with, and if they found out what happened... it wouldn't end well.

Seeing Charles frown so tightly, George hesitated, then said, "I really think there's some kind of misunderstanding between you two. Otherwise, Miss Carter wouldn't pretend not to know you. We all saw how much she loved you back then."

A misunderstanding? Was it really that simple? Charles let out a dry, bitter laugh.

He rubbed his temples, exhaustion suddenly washing over him. With a wave of his hand, he signaled George to leave.

The next morning, George returned with the maids to deliver breakfast to Ashley.

"Miss Carter, breakfast is here," he said as one of the maids carefully placed the food on the small table.

"Is he badly hurt?" Ashley stood up from the couch the moment she saw him.

She'd been restless all night, tied up in worry. She had stabbed him near his heart and there had been so much blood...

"Don't worry, it's just a surface wound. The doctor's already checked him out-it's nothing serious," George reassured her.

Relief washed over her. She let out a breath and sat back down slowly.

"Miss Carter, seeing how worried you were, it's obvious you still care about him, right?" George asked hopefully, remembering the panic in her eyes.

"You've got it wrong. I only asked because this all happened because of me," Ashley quickly waved him off.

"That's all?" George couldn't hide his disappointment.

"Of course!" She nodded firmly. Then she looked at the breakfast spread on the table, clearly puzzled. "After what I did last night, he still had breakfast brought to me? Shouldn't he be furious or something?"

She had literally said she'd kill him. With his temper, she expected him to be way less forgiving.

"Miss Carter, think about it-knowing our young master's temper, if he really wanted to hold you accountable, do you think you'd still be sitting here this peacefully?" George's tone might've sounded like a question, but his certainty was unmistakable.

"He's not gonna punish me?" Ashley blinked in disbelief. That guy was furious last night-there's no way he'd just let it go that easily!

"Miss Carter, don't you see what's going on? He keeps backing down because he's in love with you. To him, you're not just important-you're the one," George said with all the sincerity in the world.

If she really was his lover, those words would've hit her hard and maybe even moved her. The thing was...

"I'm really not the person he's looking for. Can't you tell him to let me leave?" Ashley asked, knowing full well it was a long shot, but still clinging to hope.

"I'm sorry, Miss Carter. That's not something I can do. Your breakfast's getting cold-you should eat it while it's still warm." With that, George turned and walked out of the room.

"Wait, don't go! I still have questions!" Ashley called out, only to see the door shut behind him.

Silence filled the room again. She'd hoped to get something out of him-maybe some clue about that guy from three years ago and the woman he fell for, just something to prove she wasn't her.

She'd asked other staff too, but no one seemed to know a thing. George was the only one who'd been around long enough to possibly have answers.

She looked at the beautiful spread of breakfast on the table, but had zero appetite.

She felt like a caged bird-surrounded by luxury, yes-but none of it mattered. It wasn't what she wanted. She just wanted a simple, normal life with Lucas.

But why hadn't Lucas found her yet? It'd been so long. This place couldn't be that hidden, right? She'd looked out the windows-it was a villa neighborhood, but not exactly in the middle of nowhere.

And the way she was taken on their wedding day, right in broad daylight with everyone watching-normally, the police would've been all over it. But so far? Nothing. Not even a whisper.

There was only one explanation: the guy who brought her here had way more power than she ever imagined.

Oh god... what kind of person had she ended up dealing with?