The assistant, Evan Cole, led a group of people inside in orderly succession, each carrying gifts of staggering value.

A rare pink Padparadscha sapphire necklace.

An antique master painting.

Even the deed to a private island.

The room exploded.

"These… these are from Master Wren?"

"I heard that at the auction, he placed an open-ended bid for Miss Vera. Now he’s personally sending gifts? Looks like Miss Vera is about to rise for real."

Whispers rippled through the crowd. More than a few people cast furtive glances at Rhea, their eyes filled with pity. She was clearly more beautiful, and her lineage was unquestionable. Yet now, everyone believed she had already lost.

Rhea set her glass down and turned toward the terrace.

The night breeze was cool. She had just taken a breath when Vera’s voice sounded behind her.

"Why are you out here all alone, Rhea?"

With no guests or father around, Vera finally dropped the act.

"Did you know?" she said sweetly, venom laced beneath every word. "Dad told me. You’re marrying that man in a coma."

She smiled, soft and cruel. "How pathetic. Back then, your mother couldn’t compete with mine. Now, neither can you."

Rhea spun around. "Say that again."

"I said…" Vera stepped closer, red lips forming poisonous words, "your mother deserved to die in childbirth. She—"

Smack.

A sharp slap rang out.

Rhea was not the one who struck. Vera had slapped herself.

The next second, tears poured out on cue. She staggered back several steps, collapsing perfectly into Wyatt’s arms as he rushed over.

"It’s not Rhea’s fault," Vera sobbed, clutching her cheek. "I made her angry…"

Moments later, Victor and the guests arrived as well. Accusatory looks shot toward Rhea like arrows.

"Rhea!" Victor barked. "Have you no sense of decency?"

The whispers from the guests cut even deeper.

"How vicious. Today is Miss Vera’s birthday, too…"

"No wonder. Her mother died early. She was raised without a mother. That’s why her heart is so cold."

Rhea looked at the carefully staged farce and suddenly laughed. She strode forward and, in full view of everyone, slapped Vera hard across the face.

Then she smashed her champagne glass to the ground. Shards reflected countless stunned faces.

"Look closely," she said coldly. "This is what it looks like when I actually hit someone."

As she turned to leave, she caught sight of Wyatt’s arm wrapped around Vera’s shoulders, his gaze colder than ice.

Rhea had barely reached the corner of the garden path when her wrist was seized violently. The force was so crushing that she felt as if her bones might shatter.

"Miss Vaughn." His voice was low, fury pressed tight beneath it.

"What?" She lifted her eyes in mockery. "I slapped her once. Are you going to return the favor with 99 slaps?"

Wyatt’s eyes narrowed.

What did she mean by that? Could it be that she knew about last time?

Impossible. He had been careful.

"Miss Vaughn," he loosened his grip slightly, his brows drawn tight, "you already have everything. Why do you still need to bully her?"

"I have everything?" Rhea laughed hoarsely, the sound tearing like a sob. "What do I have?

"The moment she arrived, she angered my mother into premature labor. One body, two lives destroyed. She moved in and took my room, my toys, my allowance, my father. Even my place to study abroad. Everything I had."

It was the first time Wyatt had ever heard her say so much.

Under the moonlight, Rhea's eyes that were usually sharp with mockery brimmed with tears, stubbornly refusing to fall.

"I heard," Wyatt said coldly, "that Vera is the one who had it worse."

Rhea flung his hand away and turned to leave. "Believe whatever you want."

Just before getting into the car, Wyatt spoke again. "Miss Vaughn, I would like to take a few days off."

"Do as you like." She shut the door without looking back.

After the black sedan drove a short distance, Rhea suddenly spoke to Thomas Reed, the driver, "Turn around."

They returned to the vicinity of the Vaughn estate. Sure enough, she saw Wyatt get into a Rolls-Royce. She instructed Thomas to follow at a distance.

The car finally stopped outside an upscale tattoo studio.

Through the glass window, she watched Wyatt unbutton his shirt, revealing his solid, sculpted chest.

The tattoo artist asked him something.

Wyatt pointed to his heart and said two words. From the shape of his lips, it was unmistakable.

"Vera."

Evan tried to stop him. "Master Wren, if the old man finds out, he’ll lose his temper—"

"Ink it."

With that instruction, the tattoo needle buzzed, each strike feeling like it was carving a bloody hole straight into Rhea’s heart.

Two hours later, Wyatt came out clutching his chest, blood seeping through the bandage. His face was pale, yet he still insisted on getting into the car.

"Moonwatch Cliff," he told the driver.

"No. That place is too dangerous. You just got a tattoo—"

"Now."

Rhea sat in her car and suddenly remembered Vera’s list of standards.

"He has to tattoo my name over his heart. There’s a briar rose bush on Moonwatch Cliff. He has to pick a stalk for me."

She laughed. She chuckled until tears spilled down her face.

"Let’s go," she told Thomas. "Stop following them."

That night, she scrolled through Vera’s social feed.

A photo of a briar rose blooming on the edge of a cliff.

The caption read: "Someone crossed mountains and ravines just to pick a single flower for me."

At three in the morning, Wyatt came back. His body was covered in blood. His right hand was fractured. Nevertheless, the corner of his mouth curved upward, carrying a faint trace of a smile.

The next morning, Rhea was just about to leave when Wyatt stepped out of his room. His face was pale, and his right arm was wrapped in a cast. The collar of his shirt hung slightly open.

"Miss Vaughn," his voice was hoarse. "I was in a minor car accident last night. I need a few more days of rest. I won’t be able to protect you for the time being."

A car accident?

He had clearly fallen while climbing a cliff.

She did not expose the lie. She only gave a flat grunt and walked straight out.

Today was her farewell with her friends.

In a VIP room at the high-end private Nightfall Club, Lydia slung an arm around Rhea’s shoulders. "Come on, tonight we drink till we drop! Our Miss Vaughn is getting married soon. Soon you’ll be Mrs. Ashford. We have to celebrate properly!"

The room was full, packed with the people closest to her over the years.

The champagne tower glittered under the lights, and the music throbbed loudly. Yet Rhea felt an eerie stillness.

"If you ask me, a husband in a coma isn’t bad at all!" Lydia swayed her glass drunkenly. "Rich, handsome, and you don’t even have to deal with him. That’s the perfect marriage!"

"Exactly!" Maya Whitfield chimed in. "The Ashfords have such a massive empire. It’ll all be yours eventually!"

Rhea smiled faintly, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. "Once I’m married, I’ll need to behave myself. At least give the Ashfords some face."

The group froze for a beat, then rushed to correct themselves.

"Mr. Ashford will definitely wake up!"

"With you looking like this, how could he stay asleep forever?"

"Right! Rhea, you're the most beautiful woman in the circle. No way you’d live like a widow!"

Rhea listened to their nonsense with a smile, drinking one glass after another.

When it came time to say goodbye, Lydia suddenly pulled her into a tight hug, her voice breaking. "Your father is a piece of work… and that Vera girl… Want us to teach her a lesson?"

"No need." Rhea patted her back gently. "Once I’m gone, none of this will have anything to do with me."

She hugged each of them in turn until everyone’s eyes were red.

After settling the bill, Rhea passed the neighboring private room.

A familiar conversation drifted out.

"Was that flower really that hard to pick?"

"You bet. Moonwatch Cliff is so dangerous that even professional climbing teams wouldn’t dare go there lightly."

Through the half-open door, Rhea saw Vera idly turning the briar rose in her hands.

Sienna Caldwell leaned in, eyes bright with gossip. "Then he really risked his life to get it. When he delivered the flower yesterday, I think I even saw your name tattooed over his heart. He’s really planning to chase you, huh?

"He's just a bodyguard. Does he even deserve it?

"I’m someone the crown prince of the Wren family has his eye on now." She brushed her fingers over the torn petals. "Though Wyatt does look quite good. Keeping him as a lover once in a while wouldn’t be a loss."