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.

Caroline's throat constricted as her fingers dug into the edge of the mattress, knuckles whitening from the tremor that ran through her. Her mind spun, knowing the truth would surface sooner or later. Still, she refused to let even a flicker of weakness slip.

A brittle smile curved Caroline's lips—one laced with cool indifference and a faint trace of self-mockery. "It's just a routine check-up," she lied, her voice so faint that it could have vanished into the air. "Haven't you always criticized me for not being able to conceive? Maybe you'd like to confirm whether I'm fit enough to give your precious family an heir."

Vincent's eyes skimmed over her face, dark and unreadable. "I'm not interested in the answer."

Without another word, he crushed the medical report beneath his shoe and strode out as if it meant nothing.

Hazel hurried after him, shoulders slightly hunched, her steps quick and eager. At the doorway, she paused just long enough to cast Caroline a look—pitying, smug, the kind of gaze reserved for someone already declared the loser.

The door clicked shut, the silence that followed ringing in Caroline's ears. She remained perched on the edge of the bed, frozen as though invisible nails held her down.

Her eyes locked onto the wrinkled report on the floor, its edges smeared with his shoeprint. A dizzying darkness clouded her vision, and every breath felt heavier than the last. Of all the wounds Vincent had ever inflicted, his indifference cut the deepest.

…

A week passed with no word from Vincent after he and Hazel flew off on their business trip.

During that time, Caroline refused to sit idle.

The entire city buzzed with preparations for the upcoming annual financial summit—an event that drew the city's top officials and heavyweight investment groups.

As the chief anchor of Ezrocsa Broadcasting Station, Caroline had been tapped to co-host the summit's opening banquet.

Years in the field had honed her poise on stage; even with her health slipping, no one could match her composure when it counted.

Still, her mind was anything but calm. Vincent's absence gnawed at her, and the lack of any word from Keystone Group only made the pressure worse. Jase's warning rang in her ears: if they failed to secure that advertising contract during the summit, the Era Interview program would be shut down without hesitation.

The Era Interview was more than just a show for Caroline. It was the crown jewel of her career, a project she'd fought for half a year to get approved for launch after the New Year. The thought of seeing it collapse now was something she refused to accept.

She desperately wanted to see the program through and leave a mark for herself. She decided not to be stuck on one option. Since Vincent wouldn't support her, she'd set her sights on Vincent's rival, Kendal Seymour, the calculating chairman of the Seymour Group.

The night of the summit arrived in a whirl of glittering lights and political spectacle.

After changing into a sleek gown and perfecting her makeup, Caroline sat in the dressing room, sipping water from a travel mug to steady her nerves.

A quick double knock cut through the quiet. Her assistant leaned in, slightly breathless. "Caroline, ten minutes to showtime."

Caroline rose with quiet resolve, slipped the mic into her hand, and stepped toward the stage.

A burst of light flooded the platform as she walked out, and a wave of applause rolled through the grand hall like a tide rising to meet her.

Caroline let her gaze drift over the crowd, but Vincent's figure anchored her attention. He sat unobtrusively in the back row, yet the moment she scanned the audience, she caught sight of him.

When the stage lights swept across the room, the deep-blue cufflinks at his wrists flashed like shards of cold steel.

A sudden hitch in her breath betrayed her. She hadn't expected him to show up—when had he returned from his business trip?

Her co-host gave a discreet cough, pulling her back from the spiral of thoughts.

Caroline forced her shoulders to square and slipped back into her professional rhythm, launching into her opening lines.

By the third segment, something strange crawled beneath her skin. An uncomfortable heat pooled in her chest, as though a slow flame had been lit inside her.

She clung to her practiced smile, pushing through the rest of the introduction, and then cast a fleeting glance toward her co-host.

Reading her unease instantly, the co-host transitioned seamlessly into the next segment, their delivery so smooth that it might have been planned all along.

Seizing the opening, Caroline slipped toward the wings, though her heels wobbled with every step. Her shoulder brushed the prop wall as she leaned against it, struggling to keep herself upright.

A suffocating heat coiled beneath her skin, dragging her consciousness down like quicksand. Every brush of fabric against her body sent tiny shivers racing through her, so intense that it made her knees weaken.

A cold realization knifed through her fogged mind—she had been drugged! "How… How could this happen…" The whisper barely escaped her clenched throat.

Her nails bit into her palm, desperate to anchor herself in pain, but the effort was useless.

Her breathing turned ragged, and the foreign heat spreading through her lower abdomen filled her with dread.

She stumbled toward the restroom, clutching at the wall for balance, praying no one would see her like this. One glance from a spectator and everything she'd worked for would go up in flames.

From the audience, Vincent caught her abrupt retreat. His brows drew together in a sharp line as he rose from his seat and strode toward the backstage corridor.

Caroline staggered along the corridor, her heels scraping against the floor as the world tilted around her. At the corner, she slammed straight into a man in a sharply tailored suit, the impact jolting through her weakened body.

Her throat constricted painfully, and when she tried to speak, only a ragged whisper slipped out. "Help… Help me…"

The man looked down at her, his expression cool but intrigued, his gaze sharpening as he took in her flushed cheeks and unfocused eyes. "Help you?" he drawled, his tone edged with amusement. "This doesn't look like the right place for that."

Caroline's heart sank as she realized the misunderstanding. She tried to steady herself, but her legs gave out, and she crumpled into his arms, breath trembling. "Help me… find Vincent Cooper…" she mumbled against his chest.

The instant the name left her lips, something dangerous flickered in the man's dark eyes—rivalry. A slow, deliberate smile curved his mouth. Before she could explain further, he swept her up effortlessly, the crisp fabric of his suit brushing against her overheated skin. "Then let's go somewhere," he said, his voice low and smooth. "I'll make sure that favor gets handled. I'm Kendal Seymour, by the way."

Kendal Seymour? Her hazy mind lurched at the name. Of all people, she hadn't expected to run into him now. But the heat rippling through her veins clawed at what little reason she had left.

She instinctively tried to push back, her voice shaky. "Mr. Seymour, are you taking advantage of me right now?"

A faint smile curved Kendal's lips. "I'm merely trying to help you," he replied, his stride unhurried as he carried her out. "Tell me something—what exactly is your relationship with Vincent? That man never lets a woman close, yet here you are, running to him for help."

The drug's grip on Caroline's body was relentless, blurring her thoughts until everything dissolved into a feverish haze. She forgot that Kendal and Vincent were sworn enemies, her defenses stripped away by the heat burning through her. Her lips parted, and the truth slipped out in a broken whisper. "He's… He's my… husband…"

Only two weeks earlier, Vincent had secured a project Kendal had spent months fighting for. Dropping her relationship with Vincent now was like pouring fuel on a simmering fire.

As expected, Kendal's elegant features hardened into a mocking grin. The flicker of concern in his eyes vanished, replaced by sharp amusement. He abandoned any thoughts of taking her to the hospital. "So, he's tied down," he said slowly, pausing mid-stride to look at the flushed woman in his arms.

Caroline clawed for the last thread of strength left in her. "You'd better… let me go… or Vincent won't spare you…" Her voice trembled as the world tilted and her head slumped against his chest.

A low, humorless chuckle slipped from Kendal's throat. "Is that so? I'd actually love to see whether he's got the power to back that up."

Without another word, he pivoted and carried her straight into the men's restroom, setting her down on the sink.

The icy marble bit into her thighs, a jolt racing up her spine. A shudder rippled through her, and before she could even try to slide off, Kendal closed the distance.

One arm locked firmly around her waist to steady her trembling body, while his other hand tilted her chin upward, leaving her no room to look away.

In that position, she seemed unbearably fragile—like a rose still glistening with dew, soft and dangerously enticing.

Something in Kendal's chest shifted. What had begun as a petty move to humiliate Vincent now twisted into something far more primal, a hot rush of want curling low in his gut.

With eyes darkened by desire, he looked at Caroline and lowered his head to kiss her.

Caroline's thoughts were a tangle of heat and confusion. The world had blurred into shadows and breath, and all she could feel was the pull of his nearness, the intoxicating urge to lean in.

But just as his mouth hovered a breath away, a low, frigid voice sliced through the charged air. "Let her go."

Kendal's head snapped up, his expression hardening the moment he met Vincent's sharp, unyielding gaze.

The two men squared off, their silence carrying the weight of a brewing storm.

"Mr. Cooper," Kendal drawled, forcing a mocking smile, "cutting in like this is a bit rude, don't you think..."

He didn't get to finish. Vincent's fist collided with his jaw in a single, brutal arc, sending him stumbling back with a strangled curse.

Without Kendal's grip, Caroline's body tilted forward, her balance slipping.

Vincent moved fast, his arm snaking around her waist to steady her before she could crash to the floor.

Caroline's cheeks burned crimson, her breath shallow as her trembling fingers tugged restlessly at the fabric clinging to her overheated skin.

Vincent's gaze darkened like a gathering storm. He slipped off his jacket, draping it gently over her shoulders before moving to take her away.

"Wait a minute." Kendal steadied himself against the wall, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "You think you can just walk out of here with her?"

"You've already crossed a line," Vincent replied coolly, his presence radiating sharp, unshakable authority. "Maybe I should make you pay for laying a hand on my wife."

Kendal gave a low chuckle, wiping the blood from the corner of his lip with deliberate ease. His gaze lingered on Caroline's flushed face, slow and taunting. "Your wife? I doubt she'll stay that way for long."

Vincent's aura grew icier, the air between them thick with menace, but before the standoff could ignite, Caroline let out a soft, desperate moan.

Vincent didn't hesitate another second. He scooped her into his arms and strode toward the exit.

Kendal stood frozen where he was, watching their retreating figures with a storm of conflicted emotions flickering behind his eyes.