"Divorce?" Vincent let out a cold, cutting laugh as he lingered at the foot of the bed, looming over Caroline like a dark shadow. "You clawed your way into the Cooper family with every trick you had, and now you're asking for a divorce?"

"Believe what you want, but I'm dead serious." Caroline's tone stayed cool, all emotion spent and nothing left to argue with.

She lifted her eyes to him, taking in the perfectly tailored suit and immaculate tie that once drew her in. Now, every polished detail only made him look like a stranger. It all suddenly felt too hollow to be worth the heartache.

With composed indifference, Vincent adjusted his tie, his fingers moving in smooth, practiced motions. "Do you honestly think I care?"

He didn't give her a chance to answer. Turning on his heel, he strode for the door, not sparing her a backward glance, as though staying a second longer might stain him.

Caroline's expression hardened into ice as she watched his back recede. "Vincent, even if you couldn't care less, I'm walking away from this marriage."

He walked out without a word, his silence cutting deeper than anything he could have said.

Outside, a thick ceiling of clouds loomed overhead, the air heavy with the promise of rain.

Jerald Carter, Vincent's assistant, stood beside the sleek black car, posture straight despite the damp chill. The moment Vincent emerged, Jerald moved forward without hesitation, opening the car door in a smooth, practiced motion.

"Mr. Cooper, this just arrived today," Jerald announced, extending a small velvet box in the shade of midnight blue.

Vincent arched a brow, making no move to accept it.

Catching the cue, Jerald flipped the lid open. Nestled on the soft lining lay a porcelain leaf, flawlessly crafted—its delicate veins etched with meticulous precision, fragile enough to shatter at a breath.

"It came from the same place as before. Same sender. Same timing," Jerald said quietly. "Every year, right around now, it shows up."

Only then did Vincent lower his gaze, taking the box with a measured hand. His thumb brushed the porcelain's cool edge, and for a fleeting heartbeat, something unguarded flickered in his eyes. He'd been well aware that Caroline's birthday was just around the corner. For three years straight, this porcelain leaf had appeared right on cue, like clockwork. It could only be a birthday gift from the man she'd once loved.

Vincent had never questioned Caroline about it. He knew she would act clueless.

Jerald shifted uneasily before adding in a low voice, "And… that person's coming back to the country."

Vincent froze mid-movement, a shadow sweeping across his features. "You're certain?"

"Yes."

A cold, humorless laugh slipped from Vincent's throat. That explained Caroline's sudden, unshakable decision to end their marriage. She was ready to bolt straight into that man's arms. Her old flame was back, and she couldn't even be bothered to hide it.

Vincent's icy chuckle held no warmth as he issued the order, his voice slicing through the air like a blade. "Keep a close eye on her."

"Got it."

The car rolled out of the villa district just as the skies split open, sheets of rain hammering the windshield in a relentless downpour.

...

By morning, the storm had eased into a steady drizzle, but the early winter air still bit sharply at the skin.

Caroline gripped the steering wheel and guided her car toward Ezrocsa Broadcasting Station.

She wasn't just another face on screen—she was the network's anchor, a seasoned journalist with degrees in both journalism and finance, six hard-won years cementing her place as the station's backbone.

In the past few years, her days had blurred into frenzied coverage of breaking stories, nights dissolved into an exhausting juggle of family obligations. Every hour had been claimed by something, leaving little space for herself. Without this constant hustle, she might've had a longer life ahead of her.

Caroline let out a faint, bitter laugh, fishing the small blister pack from her purse and popping a pill past her lips. She'd swung by a pharmacy earlier. Since Vincent hadn't bothered with protection the night before, she couldn't afford to take risks.

For three long years, she'd ached to have a child with Vincent, but fate had never allowed it. Maybe that was the universe's way of telling her they were never meant to be. Now that she was determined to end the marriage, she needed to cut off every last thread tying her to him.

With no water on hand, Caroline forced the pill down dry. It caught halfway, scraping a raw path down her throat, leaving behind a burn that spread like fire to her stomach. Her face tightened at the sharp, throbbing sting.

She braced an elbow against the driver's seat, drew in several steadying breaths, and then slipped on her high heels with deliberate precision. The moment she stepped out of the car, the biting chill sliced against her skin.

She'd barely made it to the lobby when Jase Walsh, the deputy director of Ezrocsa Broadcasting Station, came hurrying toward her. He didn't bother with pleasantries, seizing her lightly by the arm and steering her straight into his office. "Caroline, what happened?" he demanded, worry creasing his brow.

Her expression tightened, a faint frown forming. "What's going on?"

"Keystone Group's ad contract was practically wrapped up," Jase blurted, voice tinged with agitation. "Then out of nowhere, they say they need to 'reconsider.' Come on—doesn't that scream they're pulling out?" He leaned forward, his voice rising. "You were the one managing this deal. Where the hell did it go sideways?"

The blood drained from Caroline's face, and she fell silent.

Her silence only made Jase more frantic. "Don't tell me you pissed off someone in their upper ranks. Our entire quarterly revenue hinges on that contract, and now they're hiding behind some 'internal review' excuse? No one's buying that."

Caroline's lips pressed into a thin line, her expression blank. She didn't need anyone to spell it out. Vincent's hand must be all over this mess. As the CEO of the Keystone Group, he could easily pull that off with just one word. She just hadn't expected him to mix personal grudges with business.

Jase slapped a hand on his desk, frustration crackling in the air. "For God's sake, say something! The year is almost over. If this tanks, we're all screwed."

Caroline drew in a steadying breath, the tension in her jaw betraying the storm beneath. "I'll take care of it," she bit out.

By the time the clock struck seven, Caroline wrapped up her broadcast and dragged herself back to Luna Villa, every step heavy with exhaustion.

The moment she crossed into the courtyard, the sharp gleam of a Maybach's headlights cut through the dusk.

The door swung open, and Vincent's secretary, Hazel Hunt, stepped out first. Petite and soft-featured, she carried the kind of fragile beauty that looked untouched by the world. A fitted white gown hugged her delicate frame, the high heels elongating her figure, and despite the hint of travel fatigue clinging to her, she exuded an air of polished elegance.

In the back seat of the car lounged Vincent. He wore a black shirt, the hem carelessly rumpled, and the faint bite of alcohol seemed to cling to him like a second skin.

"Vince, slow down," Hazel murmured with a touch of tenderness, leaning in to ease Vincent from the car as his hand slipped instinctively around her waist.

They moved with an undeniable closeness.

When Hazel steadied him, she let out a low, lilting laugh by his ear. "You really pulled out all the stops for me tonight. One drink after another—and you even took Mr. Seymour's for me."

Caroline lingered at the gate, staying silent. She'd long known about Hazel—far more than just Vincent's loyal secretary. The girl had been a Cooper family scholarship student, rising through the ranks to work at Vincent's side right after graduation.

What most didn't know was the messy tangle of ties behind that polished facade. Hazel's elder sister, Rachael Cooper, was Vincent's stepmother, which technically made Hazel his aunt.

Whispers had long circulated about the ambiguous nature of Hazel and Vincent's relationship.

Caroline had sensed something beneath the surface, yet because they were family, she clung to the idea that trust was the cornerstone of a marriage and chose to believe in Vincent. And what had that blind trust brought her? A brazen, public spectacle. The two made a habit of parading their closeness right before her eyes. She had bitten her tongue countless times before, but tonight, she decided enough was enough.

Only then did Hazel finally notice Caroline. With that practiced, honeyed smile that never faltered, she glided toward Caroline. "Carrie, looks like you just got back too?"

Though Hazel was three years younger than Caroline, she carried herself with the easy authority of someone older, her tone light yet condescending.

"Vince really overdid it for me tonight—he's completely wasted," Hazel cooed, offering up a jacket blotched with dark red wine. "This one's custom-made. Mind hand-washing it for him?"

Caroline let out a low, humorless laugh. "And are you asking me that as his secretary or as his aunt?"

The question knocked Hazel off balance for half a beat, but she recovered with a sugary smile. "Does it make a difference? You can't seriously expect me to wash it. I still have to look after Vince—it's not exactly convenient for me."

A cool, sharp smile curved on Caroline's lips. "Seems to me you haven't quite figured out your own position. I doubt Vince wants you to take care of him."

The air between them tightened, heat and frost colliding in the charged silence.

Hazel's expression tightened with a flicker of embarrassment, but she swallowed it down and forced her lips into a brittle smile as she took a step back. "Then I'll leave Vince in your care," she muttered, her voice edged with forced lightness.

Pushing down the jealousy twisting in her chest, Hazel handed Vincent over to Caroline and turned on her heel to leave.

Caroline hooked an arm around Vincent to steady him as they crossed the threshold.

The moment they stepped inside, the stench of alcohol mixed with the faint trace of Hazel's perfume on Vincent hit Caroline like a slap, making her stomach twist.

Jaw clenched, Caroline half-dragged Vincent toward the living room, every step feeling like she was hauling a dead weight.

But before she could close the door behind them, Vincent suddenly yanked her back with surprising strength and slammed her against the wall.

Her spine jarred against the cold tile, knocking the air from her lungs. She barely managed a gasp before his wine-tainted breath closed in and his mouth crashed against hers.

The kiss burned hot and chaotic, all clashing teeth and shallow breaths—neither tender nor purely lustful, but a raw, reckless surge of pent-up emotion.

Vincent's alcohol-tainted kiss scorched against Caroline's mouth, rough and consuming, as if he meant to swallow her whole.

Caroline's thoughts scattered into a blinding haze. She twisted to break free, but his grip only tightened, his long fingers clamping around her wrist hard enough to sting. His other hand moved with possessive ease, sliding over her chest and kneading through the thin fabric, each motion deliberate and unrelenting.

Her body trembled uncontrollably, shame knotting with a sharp, unfamiliar fear that left her struggling for breath.

His fingers traced the curve of her waist before slipping beneath her skirt, gliding up the sensitive inside of her thigh, and setting off a tingling surge that made her shudder.

Yet, beneath that touch, her heart chilled as if plunged into glacial depths. She ground her teeth, summoned her strength, and shoved him back. Her voice came out steady and cutting. "I'm not Hazel."

For a brief moment, Vincent's movements faltered, his breath coming rough and uneven. A flicker of clarity crossed his face as his head lifted, shadows deepening in his eyes.

"Did you mistake me for someone else?" Caroline pressed, a razor-thin edge of mockery threading through her voice.

His brow furrowed, the alcohol's fog peeling back just enough to expose a sliver of sobriety. He didn't bother replying. Instead, he straightened stiffly, his expression shuttering into icy detachment, and crossed the room to drop onto the sofa as if nothing had happened.

Caroline's chest tightened at his aloofness, humiliation flooding her so sharply that it burned behind her eyes. She'd foolishly believed that his sudden tenderness had been real—an unguarded moment of affection brought on by the liquor. But reality struck hard. The raw desire in his gaze hadn't been meant for her at all.

Forcing the tremor out of her voice, Caroline swallowed down the sting and asked steadily, "Did you pull strings with the Keystone Group's ad contract on purpose?"

Vincent didn't bother lifting his eyes, letting out a low scoff. "What's this? Hoping I'll keep the deal alive for you?"

Her face stayed composed, betraying nothing. "I'm asking about business, not favors."

"Then you should understand it's a strategic shift," he said coolly, his tone flat and dismissive. "Decisions like that don't hinge on me alone. Banking on personal ties to reel the contract back in is a pretty naive fantasy."

He rose without another glance and walked toward the guest room, the quiet click of his shoes echoing down the hallway.

Caroline leaned into the wall, her breath shallow, the lingering heat of his touch burning against her fingertips. She shut her eyes, a bitter sting creeping up to the bridge of her nose, but sheer willpower kept her tears from spilling.

When the first gray light of dawn crept through the curtains, a firm knock on the door jolted Caroline out of her uneasy half-sleep.

Before she could utter a word, the latch turned, and the door swung inward.

Caroline jerked upright, her pulse skipping. The sight at the threshold made her expression harden. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, brows knitting as her gaze locked on the woman.

Hazel stood framed in the doorway, clearly dressed to impress—soft pink velvet clinging to her figure, a dusting of makeup brightening her delicate features, that practiced, demure smile making her look as harmless as a lamb. "Carrie, you're awake," she said lightly, stepping inside like she belonged there. A sleek suitcase rolled behind her. "Vince is leaving on a business trip, so I came to pack a few things for him."

Caroline gave a short, icy laugh and pushed herself higher against the headboard, her voice stripped of any warmth. "Don't you think this is a little inappropriate?"

Hazel's practiced smile wavered. She ducked her gaze, feigning meekness as she murmured, "I didn't mean anything by it. Vince asked me to come. I'm just doing what I was told. If this upsets you, I'll leave right now."

She angled her body toward the door, every move deliberately demure.

With a faint, cutting edge to her tone, Caroline let the words drip with mockery. "You've got quite the talent for putting on an act."

Hazel lifted her head, her lashes catching the light, wet and trembling above eyes clouded with red. "I truly didn't mean to offend you. I don't even know what I did wrong. Why are you treating me like this?"

Caroline's reply came cool and clipped. "Funny how you make it sound like I'm the one being unreasonable." Her gaze slid toward Hazel's hands, lingering on the soft nude-pink polish. The mockery in her tone deepened. "Besides, this isn't exactly your first visit to this room, is it?"

The air between them tightened like a drawn wire.

Hazel's complexion blanched, a flicker of panic betraying her calm façade. Had Caroline found out she'd left the lace underwear there?

In that instant, Vincent appeared in the doorway, his black shirt half-buttoned, carrying the careless ease of someone fresh from sleep—though the chill in his eyes told another story. "What's going on?" His sharp gaze swept over the two women, and his brows tightened in a hard line.

Caroline slowly turned her head toward him. "We aren't even divorced yet, and you're already parading your mistress into the house? She's your step-aunt, Vincent. If this leaks, how do you think your family's going to explain that?"

"So what?" Vincent shot back, his voice flat and cold. "Are you suddenly worried about protecting the dignity of the 'lawful wife' now?" The pointed look he gave Caroline made the tension in the room tighten.

He strode past Hazel without sparing her a glance and pulled open the wardrobe doors.

Caroline's pulse jumped. Her medical records were still tucked away inside the wardrobe! "Wait!" The word burst out before she could stop it.

Vincent's hand stilled, but it was too late. A crisp folder slipped from the top shelf and fluttered to the floor at his feet.

The air froze for several tense seconds.

His brow lifted slightly as he stared down at the scattered papers. "What is this?" he queried, his voice low and unreadable.