After returning from the orphanage, Allen went straight upstairs to the walk-in closet and began packing his belongings. It wasn’t until he opened the drawers and closets that he realized how little he actually owned.

All he had were a few outfits gifted by Serene’s mother when they got married. In five years of marriage, his wife had never once thought to buy him a single piece of clothing.

Once his clothes were packed, Allen gathered all the gifts he had given Serene over the years and sold them to a recycling shop for scrap.

For every birthday, he had meticulously chosen gifts, hoping to make her happy, but she never spared them a glance. They had been tossed aside and left to gather dust.

As the truck carrying the discarded items drove away, Allen turned to head back to the villa when a car horn blared behind him.

He turned around and saw a sleek Maybach pull up in front of him. A woman in a red dress stepped out—it was Serene’s younger sister, Anne Foster.

Anne glanced at the departing truck and sneered. Then, turning her gaze to Allen, she looked him up and down with disdain.

“Typical of someone from a poor family—selling trash for cash.”

Allen didn’t even look at her. He turned and began walking away.

Anne’s smug expression vanished as her temper flared. She stormed after him and grabbed his arm.

“Allen!”

From the day Allen entered the Foster family, he had always been humble, trying to win their approval. Never once had he shown her such indifference.

Now, his cold attitude ignited a fury within her.

“Are you deaf? I’m talking to you!”

Allen calmly removed her hand, annoyance flickering in his eyes.

Anne had always despised him, believing someone of his status didn’t deserve to be part of her family. For the past five years, she had gone out of her way to make his life difficult—throwing out the breakfasts he made, stepping on the clothes he washed.

But with freedom in sight, he no longer felt the need to applease her.

Anne was about to snap at him again when a calculating smile spread across her face.

"Well, you might as well get used to selling things off. Haven't you heard? My sister's true love is back. Your little charade of playing husband is over."

As she spoke, another figure emerged from the car.

This was Allen's first glimpse of Will, the man who'd held Serene's heart all these years.

He had the kind of effortless grace that came from old money—golden hair, striking blue eyes, and an understated elegance that made his simple white button-down look like haute couture.

The years that had left Allen's marriage in shambles seemed to have only enhanced Will's charm. No wonder Serene had never let go.

Hearing Anne’s words, Will stepped forward and gently tugged her arm, his tone soft and warm. “Anne, don’t say that about Mr. Bennett. He’s still your brother-in-law.”

Anne rolled her eyes. “Brother-in-law? Will, I already told you—my sister has always loved you. For years, she couldn’t get over you. She flew abroad every week just to see you and bought all those gifts to make you happy. Don’t you see how much she cares for you?”

Anne turned to Allen, her tone sharp and commanding. “What are you standing there for? Get Will’s luggage and bring it inside! My sister already agreed—he’s staying here.”

Allen glanced briefly at the suitcases on the ground, then ignored her and walked back into the villa without a word.

Anne stomped her feet in frustration, glaring after him. In the end, the driver carried the luggage inside.

Just as Anne was about to cause more trouble, Serene entered the villa, her steps hurried. When her eyes landed on Will sitting comfortably on the sofa, she visibly relaxed.

She turned to Allen and spoke casually, “Will’s place hasn’t been lived in for years. It needs renovation, so he’ll stay with us for a few days.”

Allen didn’t respond.

In the awkward silence that followed, Will stood up, looking uneasy. His voice was gentle, almost timid. “Serene, maybe I should go. After all, this is your home with Mr. Bennett, and he doesn’t seem very happy about this.”

Serene immediately reached out to stop him, her tone firm. “There’s no need for that. Allen’s always been understanding—he won’t be upset over something so trivial.”

Watching the scene unfold, Allen finally spoke, his lips curling into a faint smile.

“I’m not upset at all. Mr. Anderson, please make yourself comfortable here.”

After all, this house was bound to belong to Will sooner or later.

Worried that Will might really leave, Serene quickly directed the housekeeper to prepare the largest guest suite.

Anne couldn't resist shooting Allen a smug look. "Well? Why are you just standing there? Go make dinner. And remember—Will doesn't like spicy food, so keep it mild."

Despite having a full household staff, Allen had always been the one to cook. Serene was incredibly particular about her food; even meals from Michelin-starred restaurants didn't meet her standards. Only Allen's cooking was deemed acceptable—barely.

No matter how much effort he put into the meals, Serene would only pick at her food. When Anne joined them, she'd criticize every dish between bites.

But this time, Allen said something that left everyone stunned.

"I can't."

Serene turned to look at him, startled. In all their years together, he had never refused a request from her family. This was a first.

She was about to speak when Will's expressive eyes filled with guilt.

"This is my fault," he said softly. "I shouldn't have imposed. I'm just a guest—I can't expect Mr. Bennett to cook for me."

Will moved to leave, but Serene caught his arm.

"This isn't about you," she said firmly before turning back to Allen, her voice sharp. "Didn't you say you were fine with this? What's the problem?"

Allen calmly held up his hand, showing two bandaged fingers.

"I'm injured. I can't get them wet right now."

It was a lie. The contract with Mrs. Foster had ended, and he no longer felt obligated to play the dutiful husband. The bandages were just an excuse.

The room fell silent.

Allen had always handled the cooking, and the staff had already left for the day. Even if they called someone back, it was too late.

Anne's face twisted with annoyance. "If you're hurt, why didn't you mention it earlier? Are you trying to make us go hungry?"

She stepped forward, ready to berate him further, but Will intervened.

"Anne, please." He turned to Serene, his voice gentle. "Remember that Italian place near our old school? The one we used to go to after evening classes? Why don't we have dinner there?"

Serene's expression softened immediately. "Perfect. I'll drive us."

During the drive, Serene chatted with Will and Anne in the back seat, reminiscing about their school days. Will grew more animated with each memory, and even Anne joined in occasionally.

As their laughter filled the car, Will suddenly turned to Allen in the passenger seat, his tone apologetic. "I'm sorry, Mr. Bennett. We didn't mean to exclude you—it's just that you weren't there for any of those memories."

Not just those memories, Allen thought. He wouldn't be part of their future either.

"It's fine," he murmured, closing his eyes.

Serene glanced at him briefly. Something about him seemed... different.

---

At the restaurant, Allen excused himself to the restroom.

Standing at the sink, he splashed cold water on his face and studied his reflection.

His features were refined, his complexion clear, but exhaustion haunted his eyes.

Five years of marriage. Will looked vibrant, full of life, while Allen carried nothing but weariness.

Just a little longer, he told himself.

Soon, he would be free.

---

When Allen returned to their private dining room, the others had already ordered.

"Make sure it's the light tomato sauce," Serene was telling the waiter. "Will's vegetarian, so we'll need extra sides. And no garlic."

Even after all these years, she remembered William's preferences perfectly.

Then, for the first time in five years, she turned to Allen. "What about you? Any allergies?"

Allen methodically unfolded his napkin. "Anything's fine. Just no shellfish."

As they ate, Serene barely touched her food. She was too busy ensuring William's plate stayed full.

Halfway through the meal, a heated argument erupted at the next table. The voices grew louder until someone suddenly stood up, their chair scraping across the floor.

The situation escalated when one of them, blind with rage, grabbed a pot of scalding sauce and hurled it at their companion.

The target ducked, but the steaming liquid flew straight toward their table.

In the chaos of screams and shouts, Serene instinctively threw herself in front of Will.

Allen, sitting across from them, had no time to move. He could only watch as the boiling sauce came straight at him.

"Ah!"

The scalding sauce drenched Allen instantly, turning his skin an angry red. Blisters erupted across his arms as searing pain shot through his body, leaving him speechless with agony.

"Allen!"

Serene released Will and rushed to Allen, showing rare concern. "Are you okay? We need to get you to the hospital!"

Allen looked up at her, the pain overwhelming, unable to form words.

"Oh God! Will, you're hurt!"

At this, Serene's attention snapped to Will. She hurried to his side, even more distressed than before. Though only a few drops had hit his arm, she acted as if he'd suffered a critical injury.

Will pulled away, his eyes pained as he shook his head. "I'm fine. Mr. Bennett needs medical attention more urgently."

"Don't be ridiculous! You've always been sensitive to pain. Serene, what are you waiting for? Get Will to the emergency room!" Anne glared at the other table. "What is wrong with you people? Take your fight outside! You've hurt Will, and my sister would definitely sue all of you!”

Will winced but insisted, "It's nothing, really. Please, help Mr. Bennett—he's badly hurt."

But his words only heightened Serene's panic. Ignoring Allen's severely burned arms, she helped Will up and rushed toward the door.

At the threshold, she paused briefly, throwing Allen a guilty glance. "Will has sensitive skin. The hospital's just down the street—you can grab a taxi."

Allen watched them disappear, struggling to breathe through the pain but managing to stay standing.

A sympathetic server hurried over with a first aid kit and helped treat his burns. After taking some pain medication, Allen felt well enough to speak again.

The restaurant lent him clean clothes, and he carefully made his way outside to hail a cab.

---

At the hospital, the doctor pressed cotton swabs against his blisters, explaining the treatment. "Apply this antibiotic cream daily, and it shouldn't leave any scars."

Allen clenched his jaw against the pain, eyes squeezed shut.

Nearby, two nurses wheeled a cart past, chatting.

"Did you hear? Ms. Foster reserved the entire VIP wing for Mr. Anderson. Just a few drops of sauce, and she called in every specialist in the city."

"I know, right? His burn's so minor it would've healed on its own. Wish I had someone that devoted to me."

"Ha, keep dreaming. A woman like that is one in a million."

---

One in a million?

Allen laughed bitterly. A wife who abandons her severely injured husband to tend to someone else's minor burn was indeed unique.

After getting bandaged, he thanked the doctor and left. Just outside the hospital, his phone buzzed with an email.

It was from the art program he'd applied to abroad, confirming his acceptance and requesting a portfolio submission.

For the first time in five years, Allen picked up his paintbrushes again.

---

After buying art supplies, he avoided the Foster estate and headed to Lake Vista Mountain instead.

The view was breathtaking—a pristine lake nestled between rolling hills, its surface mirror-smooth, perfectly reflecting the surrounding peaks.

Taking a deep breath, Allen felt years of tension melt away. The weight of his confined life lifted, replaced by a surge of long-forgotten freedom.

Inspiration flowing, he began to paint. His brush moved across the canvas as the landscape took shape before him.

For three days, he lost himself in the solitude, accompanied only by birdsong and rustling leaves.

---

When he finally descended to ship his painting to the university, Allen turned his phone back on.

The screen lit up with dozens of missed calls and messages, all from Serene.

This was unprecedented.

Usually, Allen was the one calling and texting, only to be ignored. Serene had never actively reached out to him, let alone repeatedly.

While he stared at his phone in disbelief, Anne's number appeared. He answered, and her sharp voice cut through.

"Allen Bennett, where the hell have you been? Do you know my sister's been going crazy looking for you? Don't think you can use this disappearing act to make her care. Get real! The Foster family's future belongs with Will!"

She hung up before he could respond.

He frowned at his phone, confused.

Serene frantically searching for him?

What could she possibly want now?

Allen considered calling Anne back, but the 108 missed calls from Serene told their own story. Whatever it was, she was desperate.