Meanwhile, in the Bailey family's villa, Cassie Bailey, Jase's younger sister, spoke with a curled lip. "Mom, Elyse has elegance and status, and she's receiving her doctorate. Rena, on the other hand, is unbearably dull. One look at her and I don't feel like eating anymore."

Off to the side, Maggie Bailey, Jase's mother, responded, her voice cool and detached, "As far as I can tell, a woman like that belongs in the kitchen. She went to meet that pathetic father of hers today, didn't she?"

With a sweet, mocking giggle, Cassie leaned back and said, "I heard he just got back from overseas. He probably couldn't keep surviving off shady work in some godforsaken place, so now he's come slithering back to depend on his daughter."

Jase merely knit his brows, as though there were nothing at all wrong with a single word they said.

At that moment, Rena shoved the door open and walked inside.

The instant Maggie laid eyes on her, the distain on her face came through without the slightest effort to hide it.

"Well, well," she remarked, her eyes narrowing, "look who finally decided to come back. Why are you just standing there? Get to the kitchen and make dinner."

Without answering, Rena kept her face blank and headed straight for the stairs.

"Hey!" Cassie barked. "What the hell? Mom's speaking to you. Are you deaf or something? Don't give us that crap attitude! You went to see that useless father of yours, and now suddenly you've got the nerve to act tough?"

Mid-step, Rena halted and fixed Cassie with a frigid stare as she blocked the way. "Out of my way."

Caught off guard, Cassie recoiled on instinct, only to stiffen with humiliation a second later. "Are you seriously glaring at me?" she snapped. "Last I checked, this is my house. You're living off my brother, eating under our roof. So what's the problem with you cooking a meal?"

A sharp, mocking smile touched Rena's lips as her eyes drifted over the room. "Your house?"

Years ago, when they had been desperate for somewhere to live, Jase had just crawled out of the slums. She moved them directly into one of the Shaw family's estates.

Because she had wanted to spare his fragile pride, she had even lied and said the villa belonged to one of her relatives, and that they could stay there for the time being.

Beneath her breath, Rena released a low, chilling huff. "Jase, why don't you clear this up for them? Does this house belong to you or not?"

Color drained from Jase's face at once as he shot back, "Rena! What kind of bullshit are you saying?"

"Bullshit?" she echoed, staring at him as though she were looking at a man she had never truly known. "Then why can't you say it out loud?"

"Enough!" Jase growled, a dangerous warning flashing in his eyes. "Alright, I admit it. I didn't go pick up your father. That part was my fault, and I'll apologize if that's what you want. But cut it out—stop turning this into a scene. If you're exhausted, then go upstairs and get some rest."

"I'm not exhausted." Crossing the room, Rena stopped beside the coffee table, her expression cold and steady. "I just want everyone here to understand one thing clearly."

Already furious at the shift in Rena's attitude, Maggie shot to her feet so abruptly the sofa cushions jolted behind her. "This is outrageous! You nasty little bitch, how dare you speak to Jase that way? No wonder your mother ended up running off with some random stranger."

The temperature in Rena's gaze dropped to something lethal. "What did you just say?"

"Was I wrong?" Maggie fired back, planting her hands on her hips as venom dripped from every word. "People can dress it up as her disappearing all they want, but everyone knows she ran off with some man! What a shameless whore! And look at you, coming home this late. You were probably out fooling around with some man too, just like your mother."

"Shut your mouth!" With a violent crack, Rena's palm slammed down on the table, rattling every cup on the coffee table.

There was no way she would stand by and allow anyone to disrespect Clara.

That was the one boundary no one was allowed to step over!

Whoever dared cross it would be crushed for it!

For a split second, Maggie was shaken by the explosive force in her voice, but the shock quickly curdled into a sharper, more vicious rage. "Jase! Take a good look at that precious wife of yours!"

With a deep frown etched across his face, Jase demanded, "Why are you yelling at her? That's my mother you're talking to! She's older, and her health isn't good. She only said it without thinking. Did you really need to blow up over something like that? Apologize to her right now!"

Apologize? After Maggie called her mother a whore?

As Rena stared at the face she had loved for five long years, an icy ache seeped straight into her chest.

For the first time, doubt clawed through her mind, and she found herself wondering whether the man who had once nearly died to save her had ever truly been Jase at all.

With a guarded step, Rena moved back and widened the space between them. "Jase, I'm going to ask you this one last time. Do you believe my mother is the kind of woman they keep calling her? And in all these years, did it never cross your mind to help me look for her?"

Instead of answering, Jase glanced at Rena, then shifted his eyes toward Maggie and Cassie, both of them glaring in outrage.

He knew exactly what would happen if he failed to take Maggie's side. She would blow this up into an even uglier scene.

As for Rena… no matter what, she couldn't bring herself to leave him. It wouldn't take more than a handful of soft words to calm her.

Unable to meet the fire in her eyes, he lowered his gaze and kept his mouth shut.

Once again, silence fell between them.

Whenever the Bailey family trampled all over her, this was how he always answered her—with the same cowardly silence.

From Rena's throat came a low, brittle, almost mocking laugh.

So the truth had been sitting there in plain sight all along, hadn't it?

During all those years, every time she brought up looking for her mother, Jase would dodge the conversation or subtly imply she ought to give it up and stop wasting her energy.

That meant he had believed it too, deep down, that Clara really was the kind of shameless woman they accused her of being.

"Good, very good," she muttered, her voice icy and steady. "Jase, did you forget that when your company's cash flow crashed three years ago, I was the one who helped you land that first round of funding? You really thought it was luck? I swallowed my pride and begged my former mentor to introduce you to those investors! And when your mother's stomach ulcers got so bad the doctors said she needed surgery, I was the one surviving on three hours of sleep, day after day, making medicinal meals to nurse her stomach back to health?"

"That was all a long time ago and—"

Cutting him off coldly, Rena fixed Cassie with a hard stare. "And you too, Cassie! Do you actually believe the Bailey family got invited into Qremvale's elite circles because you had money? If I hadn't picked out your dresses and briefed you on everyone's tastes ahead of time, you wouldn't have even gotten a foot through the door. I poured everything I had into the Bailey family, and I treated every last one of you like you were truly my own. And how did you repay me?"

"That's enough!" Maggie shrieked, lunging at Rena with blazing eyes as she swung a hand toward her face.

"You ungrateful little brat, how dare you act like this? If we hadn't taken you in, you would've died on the streets by now! If you hadn't been around, I'd have recovered from these stomach problems years ago! I should beat you to death and be done with you!"

Her hand slashed through the air, seconds away from landing across Rena's cheek.

Rena twisted aside, but Maggie immediately snatched the kraft paper bag from her arms. "What kind of garbage are you carrying around? Hand it over."

Out slipped the family photograph, fluttering helplessly to the floor.

Without sparing it even a glance, Maggie bent down and ripped it to pieces.

"Revolting trash!" she spat. "Just like that shameless mother of yours! You should ever set foot in this house again!"

Shoving Maggie away, Rena dropped to scoop up the torn photograph, then bolted outside with trembling hands, desperate to save it.

Jase didn't have time to stop her. All he could do was watch as Rena tore free of his grasp and vanished from view.

Driven by impulse, Jase hurried after Rena.

"Have you lost your mind, Jase?" Cassie snapped, grabbing him before he could take another step. "You're the CEO of Bailey Group. You really think you should be chasing after her?"

His movements stalled. He stood there for a beat, eyes fixed on the dense, lightless night outside the open door. "But…"

Cassie folded her arms across her chest, her face dripping with disdain. "But what? With no money to her name, where exactly does she think she can go besides here?"

A deep frown carved into Jase's face as a flicker of uncertainty tightened his jaw.

Where else could Rena possibly go?

Everything in her life had always circled back to this house—back to him.

No friends waited for her, no circle to fall into.

By the end of it, she would come back on her own.

...

Along the coastal highway, a sedan tore through the darkness at full speed.

Cool night air poured through the half-open window, tangling Rena's long hair into wild strands that lashed across her cheeks.

Resting on the passenger seat was a photograph, once ripped apart and now carefully pieced back together.

A jagged tear split straight across Clara's soft, tender smile.

One hand stayed firm on the steering wheel while her fingertips traced the rip across the photo with aching care.

Scenes from five years earlier rose in her mind with brutal clarity, each one sharper than the last.

At the time, she had been serving with a joint task force, moving through blood and chaos to treat the injured.

Then someone inside her own family sold them out to outside enemies, and Clara's sudden disappearance had forced her to abandon her post before her mission was over.

While chasing down the faintest clues about where her mother might have gone, she was ambushed without warning.

Bleeding heavily and barely clinging to life, she saw Jase appear through the chaos and pull her out of danger.

Once she regained consciousness, he spent the rest of his money buying the medicine she needed to survive.

In that hazy moment, he leaned close and assured, "Don't be afraid. They're gone now. I'll keep you safe."

Because of those words, she had truly believed she had finally found a harbor where her battered heart could rest.

Because she owed him her life, and because she had mistaken gratitude for love, she buried her real identity and became the perfect, devoted wife, all while secretly continuing the search for Clara.

When Jase said he wanted to build a business and start a pharmaceutical company, she quietly sent him an unpublished biopharmaceutical patent she and Clara had created together under complete anonymity.

By handing over full usage rights, she had let him build everything on that foundation, while he foolishly believed it was all just a stroke of luck.

What he never realized was that the document in his hands carried the weight of years—half a lifetime of relentless research and sacrifice shared between her and Clara.

And in the end, what did it amount to?

The very man who rose on Clara's life's work had stood there without a word, watching his family rip Clara's photograph to shreds, hurling vile insults.

A hollow, bitter laugh slipped from her lips.

How absurd it all was!

For five long years, she had poured her devotion into that household, only to realize she had been tending nothing more than a house full of ungrateful parasites.

With the debt of her life finally repaid, there was nothing left tying her to them. Now, she would walk away.

But before she did, she would make sure none of them escaped unscathed.

Up ahead, the road stretched lonelier and lonelier, until a weathered sign by the roadside whipped past her window. "Private property. Trespassers will be dealt with accordingly."

After turning off the engine, Rena braced herself against the side of the car and exhaled deeply, letting some of the tension drain away.

Then a faint, pitiful sound made her head snap up.

"Meow—"

Right in the middle of the road, a tiny white kitten, filthy with mud, shivered there like a helpless ball of fur.

Just ahead, in the opposite lane, a Lincoln came tearing toward it, no more than thirty feet away.

Without thinking, she shoved off the ground and lunged forward, sweeping the kitten into her arms.

On the rough asphalt, Rena dropped to her knees, curling protectively around the trembling little creature.

When she lifted her head, damp strands of hair clung to her cheeks, and a sheen of cold sweat had already formed across her brow.

The Lincoln's gleaming black bumper halted less than an inch from her knee.

Had the driver been even half a second later, her body would have been thrown clear across the road.

Rena tightened her gaze and fought to smooth out her ragged breathing, forcing her pounding heart back under control.

When she pushed a hand against the ground and tried to rise, a fierce stab tore through her ankle, and a low grunt slipped from her lips as she dropped back down.

A severe sprain had taken hold of her ankle.

Just then, the car door swung open.

From the driver's side, a tall man stepped out.

His face stayed buried in the night at first, but as he stepped into the dim streetlight, it slowly revealed his features.

That face looked almost unfair, as though God had sculpted it with painstaking care and then cruelly thrown it into the depths of despair.

A straight, striking nose cut down the center of his face, his deep-set eyes shadowed beneath sharp bone structure, while his skin held the bloodless pallor of someone who had gone too long without sunlight.

Set beneath it all, his pale, thin lips pressed into a hard line that carried nothing but cold indifference and the exhausted contempt of a man long sick of the world.

The man came to a halt in front of her, towering over her as his shadow fell across her face.

Without a word, he abruptly extended his hand.

Rena's gaze dropped to the hand suspended before her, but she made no move to take it.

Trusting help from a stranger had never come naturally to her.

Seeing her remain still, the man drew his brows together in faint irritation.

Instead of waiting any longer, he crouched down, slid one arm behind her back and the other beneath her knees, then scooped her up with the kitten still tucked in her arms.

The sharp jolt that ran through Rena made her entire body go rigid. Almost immediately, she twisted in his hold and demanded, "Who are you?"

Curled against her, the kitten seemed to catch her alarm too, wriggling restlessly as it let out thin, frantic cries. "Meow, meow—"

Waylon Brooks lowered his eyes to her, his voice flat and icy as he said, "If you want to stay alive, don't move."

Before Rena had a chance to process what was happening, Waylon flung her onto the strip of grass beside the road.

A couple of steps away, he stood there with chilling composure, methodically wiping the fingers that had just touched her.

"Were you after money, or were you hoping to crawl into my bed?" Dropping his gaze, Waylon spoke with sharp disgust in his low voice. "Next time you feel like dying, pick a place farther away. Don't stain my tires with your mess."

After tossing out those words, he turned on his heel and started toward the car.

From where she sat, Rena gave a disbelieving laugh. "Are you seriously insane?" she snapped back. "If your head's messed up, go find a psychiatrist. Paranoia, bipolar, whatever you've got—get it treated early and quit lashing out at random people!"

Up ahead, his tall figure stalled for the briefest beat.

Around him, the bodyguards' hands flew to their holsters on pure reflex, yet Waylon merely tipped his head, gave a dismissive, contemptuous scoff, and pulled open the car door.

Within moments, the black Lincoln vanished into the darkness like it had never been there.

"Psycho." Muttering under her breath, Rena dusted the grass from her clothes and started to rise, only for something in the bushes to snag her attention—a metal sign, half concealed beneath the tangled leaves.

Its surface was black as midnight, wrapped in dark gold thorns that coiled around a bleeding cross.

That emblem belonged to the ancient Blood Cross mafia family, clearly marking the area as private.

Anyone who trespassed here died.

Only then did Rena understand exactly who that man had been, and a cold shiver slid down her spine.

That sickly pale, colorless skin. Those deeply shadowed eyes. And that frigid, exhausted look that seemed to have gone numb to the entire world.

The man had been Waylon, Qremvale's dreaded godfather—the one who held half of the Western underworld's economy in his grip.

Stories painted him as volatile, merciless, and vicious enough to make grown men shake.

Yet she knew the truth was stranger than rumor, because she had seen his medical records with her own eyes. He suffered from severe hemophobia and had an excessive fear of germs.

Never once had she imagined this place belonged to him.

Staring at the dimming taillights, Rena lowered her gaze to her completely uninjured hands as she absently rubbed her throbbing ankle.

She had trespassed on his land, called him insane to his face, and still made it out breathing.

Compared to everything else, maybe her luck tonight hadn't been all that bad.

Bracing herself against the car door, she took a slow breath and forced her racing pulse to settle.

Just then, the phone tucked inside her coat pocket started ringing.

Reaching in, Rena pulled it out and glanced at the screen.

The caller ID read, "Honey."

Once, that name alone had been enough to fill her chest with warmth.

Now, it did nothing but turn her stomach.

The call cut off on its own.

Almost immediately, a message alert chimed through the silence.

"Rena, where the hell are you? It's late, and it isn't safe out there. I'll come get you," Jase texted.

Staring at the message that pretended to be full of concern, Rena let a mocking smile tug at the corner of her mouth.

Come get her?

If she mattered to him, why hadn't he gone after her when she left?

And why did he only think to send that message after an hour had passed?

Ignoring the message, she flung the phone onto the passenger seat and turned the engine over.

Not long after she pulled away, the phone vibrated once more.

A new text from Jase lit up the screen. "Mom and Dad are waiting for you to come home. We're all getting worried. Enough with the stubbornness. Come back already."

A cold, humorless laugh slipped from Rena's lips.

His parents had never liked her to begin with.

That vicious Maggie, who had shredded her family photo and spat filthy insults at her mother, didn't deserve respect from her.

Worried about her?

What they really worried about was having someone to prepare their meals.

Right on cue, her phone lit up with a new message from Cassie.

"Rena, where the hell are you? Get back here right now! We're starving over here! Are you seriously making the whole family sit around waiting for you? Have you lost every shred of conscience?"

To the Bailey family, she was nothing more than an unpaid, top-tier housekeeper, someone they could bark at, blame, and humiliate whenever the mood struck.

Once she married into the family, she had even let the household chef go so she could personally manage Maggie's delicate stomach and look after Jase's daily meals. From that day on, every dish that reached their table had come from her own hands.

Over time, she had pampered their tastes too well, and somehow even that had become one more blame pinned on her.

A moment later, her phone started ringing again.

Jase was calling.

Easing the car over to the side of the road, Rena finally answered.

"Rena, you picked up at last," Jase remarked, his voice tight with forced patience. "I'm sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have lost my temper with you. But you know Mom's getting older, and her health hasn't been good. She can't go too long without eating. When exactly are you coming back? We're still waiting for you."

"Waiting for me?" Rena gave a hollow, mocking laugh, its brittle edge unmistakable. "Or were you really just waiting for me to come back and cook for you?"

A strained silence crackled over the line.

Then Cassie's shrill voice cut in, sharp enough to sting through the speaker, "Jase, why are you wasting your breath on her? Just tell her to get back here right now! If she refuses, she can stop thinking about coming back—this house is closed to her forever!"

On the other end, Jase muffled the phone, seemingly turning to reprimand Cassie. A moment later, he came back on the line. "Rena, that's not what Cassie meant," he said, his tone softening. "Hunger's getting to her—she's not thinking straight. You know how much everyone loves your cooking. Food from outside isn't clean, and Mom's stomach has always been delicate, so—"

Before he could finish, Rena interjected with a cold, biting laugh, "Then how did your family manage before I ever showed up? What did you people eat to stay alive? Or did you always go around shamelessly begging other people to feed you like this?"

"How could you even say something like that?" Irritation sharpened Jase's voice. "We're a family. Of course it makes sense for you to look after the house. Do we really need to fight over this right now?"

Family?

Since when had they ever treated her like one of their own?

A deep, bone-weary exhaustion washed over Rena, leaving her too drained to keep arguing.

Everything she had poured into them over the past five years had meant absolutely nothing.

No—at the very least, genuine kindness should have been worth a shred of gratitude.

Instead, every sacrifice she had made for Jase and his family had circled back like a blade and cut into her.

By now, those five years had more than paid back the debt she owed for him saving her life.

"Jase," she called out.

Mistaking her quiet tone for surrender, Jase eased up at once. "Rena, you've always been the sensible one. Just come home, apologize to Mom, and we'll pretend none of this ever happened."

Her voice came out calm, almost chillingly so. "Let's get a divorce."