“Emilia Harvey! You’re married and have kids, and you’re still messing around with me? What do you take me for?”

“The whole town knows I’m yours now. If you don’t want me, I might as well be dead.”

The man’s eyes were red, his voice trembling, like he might crack at any second.

Seeing someone this beautiful cry would soften anyone’s heart.

Especially since Emilia had lost her memory three years ago, and Zahir Willis had been the one to save her. This little trick of his always worked. Whenever he wanted something, he’d look at her with those tear-filled eyes, as if she were some heartless seductress.

And she fell for it every single time.

Though she and Zahir weren’t legally married, their cultural marriage customs were unique—everyone knew they were bound in a traditional union. Emilia was Zahir’s Ashar.

Life had been sweet. Zahir was obedient and gentle during the day, wild at night. Emilia genuinely loved it.

But the peace shattered when a woman claiming to be her assistant, Milana, came looking for her. Milana told Emilia that back in Washington, she had a husband who’d waited three years for her—and a set of three-year-old twins.

Emilia was shocked, curious, and felt a twinge of guilt.

Was this bigamy?

Regardless, even if she didn’t remember her past, it felt right—emotionally and logically—to go check it out.

After hearing the news, Zahir showed up late at night, blocking her in the conservatory, tears brimming in his eyes.

Emilia had no choice but to wrap her arms around his slim waist, stand on her tiptoes, and gently wipe his tears as she coaxed him:

“Don’t cry. I don’t remember the past. How could I have deceived you on purpose?”

“Besides, all I remember now is you. I barely have enough time to love you—why would I leave you?”

Zahir seemed reassured. He hugged her back, resting his forehead against hers. His long lashes trembled as he spoke in a muffled voice:

“But you have a legal certificate with him. Legally, you’re a couple… So what does that make me? Just your secret?”

“I heard your husband is now the CEO of Harvey Corporation. If you go back, will you even remember me—your penniless lover?”

Zahir’s voice dripped with bitterness, his words growing more plaintive, clearly playing the wounded lover.

Emilia chuckled, pushing him away playfully, teasing:

“Legally, he’s just a husband on paper.”

“Emilia!!!”

Zahir’s eyes went red again, and he looked ready to cry.

Emilia quickly cradled his face, kissing him gently:

“Okay, okay, I’m teasing. Don’t be upset.”

As she spoke, she pinched his cheek:

“I have my reasons for going back. Now that things have happened, they need to be handled. Wait for me—I’ll come get you.”

“Get me? Are you going to divorce him when you get back?” Zahir’s eyes lit up.

“Yes…”

If there was no love, the marriage would have to end.

After all, Milana had told Emilia that the Harvey family business was passed down through the women, with their husbands marrying into the family. Her husband was Joseph Cook—an illegitimate son of the Cook Corporation. No power, no influence, but handsome enough to catch her past self’s eye and join the family.

Emilia didn’t doubt that. She definitely had a weakness for gorgeous men.

Three years ago, on the day she got her marriage certificate, she went on a business trip to the countryside, accidentally fell off a cliff, and vanished.

Within a year of her disappearance, her husband Joseph showed up in the public eye with a pair of twins, claiming they were hers. With the kids’ help, he gained her mother’s support and temporarily took the CEO seat of Harvey Corporation.

Everything was way too coincidental.

She just gets the certificate, and then she has an accident?

She just has an accident, and suddenly two kids pop out of nowhere?

And she’d been missing for three years—those kids were also three. Where did they come from?

The most damning part? Joseph ended up being the one who benefited…

There had to be more to this story, and Emilia didn’t buy it for a second.

Her belongings could be given away, but she wouldn’t be played for a fool.

With Emilia’s confirmation, Zahir was overjoyed.

His charming eyes curved into crescents, shimmering with watery light, locked intently on Emilia.

She felt his grip on her waist tighten as he leaned into her neck, his breath soft:

“Emilia, are you really not going to take me with you?”

“The situation in Washington is unclear. It might be dangerous for you.”

Emilia pressed a finger against Zahir’s chest, feeling the ridiculously warm heat beneath his thin white shirt.

“Oh…”

Zahir let out a disappointed sigh.

Then he took Emilia’s hand and pressed it to his cheek, nuzzling into her palm like a puppy.

His captivating eyes met hers, his voice as alluring as a forest spirit’s:

“Emilia, I don’t know how long you’ll be gone. To keep you from being tempted by any outside influences, I need to make sure you won’t forget about me…”

“Hey? What are you—”

Emilia knew exactly what he meant the moment he spoke, and she tried to slip away.

Zahir quickly caught her wrist, pulled her into his embrace, and sealed her lips with his own…

“Emilia, don’t cry. It’ll be over soon.”

“Just hold on a little longer…”

“Emilia…”

The wooden house swayed gently in the night, creaking in rhythm.

—

Washington Dulles International Airport.

Emilia and Milana had just disembarked when Milana, familiar with the routine, handed Emilia a tablet, introducing the Harvey family members one by one.

Emilia wore sunglasses, listening intently—or at least pretending to, because she wasn’t really paying attention and bumped straight into a human wall.

“Sorry, I wasn’t—”

Emilia quickly stepped back, pulling off her sunglasses to apologize to the person in front of her.

But as she spoke, the words died in her throat. She was stunned by the man’s face.

The man wore a perfectly tailored dark shirt, a red armband tight around his biceps, making his muscles look even more defined.

Broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs—paired with that cool, aloof face, sharp and restrained.

“Joseph… Cook?”

Emilia blurted out.

In person, he was far more attractive than in photos.

She hadn’t expected to run into her nominal husband so soon.

Joseph nodded slightly, pushing up the gold-rimmed glasses on his nose, his voice utterly flat:

“Yes. Dad sent me to pick you up. Let’s head back.”

He walked over and took the suitcase from Emilia’s hand.

His cold fingertips grazed her hand, and she instinctively recoiled.

His body temperature was as icy as a soulless machine.

Emilia looked away, watching Joseph’s long strides as he walked off. She turned to Milana and said:

“Now I get why I chose him as my husband.”

With a face like that, he was on par with Zahir—just a completely different vibe.

Milana looked at Emilia and nodded seriously:

“You’ve always had a sharp eye for men.”

Emilia raised an eyebrow, not arguing.

If you’re going to pick a partner, why settle for someone ugly?

Isn’t life hard enough without adding an eyesore to it?

Emilia stopped next to a Rolls Royce Phantom.

Joseph had already stored the luggage and was standing by the car, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, waiting.

Just as she was about to get in, Emilia felt a rush of movement—arms wrapping around her waist.

“Surprise! Emilia! Miss me?”

Hearing that familiar voice, Emilia turned to look at the man hugging her, exclaiming:

“Zahir? Why are you here? Didn’t I tell you to wait? You—mmph—”

Zahir didn’t answer. He shot a glance at Joseph, then leaned down and kissed Emilia, cutting off her words.

“!!!”

Milana gasped audibly, instinctively glancing at Joseph by the car door.

The lover was really confronting the legitimate husband face-to-face? Bold move!

She held her breath and quickly typed into a forum:

“Cold-tempered legal husband vs. playful lover face-off—how to handle this showdown?”

Emilia was momentarily stunned by the unexpected kiss. Three years of Zahir's unpredictable behavior had taught her to expect the unexpected, but he usually saved these little stunts for when they were behind closed doors. Now he was pulling this in front of her legal husband—and despite the amnesia, she couldn't shake the sting of guilt.

She pushed him back gently, flicking his forehead with her finger. "Zahir! Don't be so reckless!"

Only then did she turn to Joseph Cook—her husband—clearing her throat. "I'm sorry. Zahir grew up in the countryside. He's a bit too straightforward. Please don't take it personally."

Joseph took in her explanation, his sharp eyes narrowing. Was she really apologizing to him—for another man?

The Emilia he knew was decisive, cold as a machine, never wasting energy on unnecessary feelings. But now...

He pressed his lips together and let out a flat, noncommittal "Hmm."

Zahir caught the shift in Emilia's loyalty and shot Joseph a triumphant look. Then he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder, all soft and clingy like an overgrown golden retriever.

"Emilia, don't be mad. I just missed you..."

"We've been inseparable these past three years. Without you, I can't eat, I can't sleep... Emilia, can you honestly bear to leave me?"

"But—"

"Emilia~"

His eyes welled up, and he gave her arm a little shake, the silver locket around his neck swinging with the motion. His shirt slipped open just a fraction, offering a glimpse of his collarbone, his clean, fresh presence making him seem even more endearing.

Emilia's heart went soft instantly. Who could resist a big, tail-wagging pup?

Just as she was about to cave, Joseph spoke up.

"I do appreciate Mr. Willis for saving my wife—truly," he said, adjusting the glasses on his nose, his voice as biting as a March wind. "But now that my wife is back, we intend to properly thank you. However, I'd prefer it if you didn't... get too involved."

Zahir caught the implication loud and clear. Husband? Benefactor? He ground his teeth silently, then tightened his grip on Emilia's waist, his lips curling into a defiant smirk.

"For three years, I've been the one taking care of Emilia. I'm the one who knows her likes, her dislikes, everything."

"As far as she's concerned, whether it's Washington, the Harvey family, or you, Mr. Cook—you're all just strangers."

He lifted his chin, eyes flashing with a challenge. "When it comes to love, the one who isn't loved should be the one to step aside gracefully. I trust Mr. Cook can understand that?"

The air in the room turned thick enough to choke on.

The two men locked eyes in a silent standoff, neither willing to blink first.

Emilia had never seen Zahir like this—he was usually all warmth and sweetness, no temper to speak of. And Joseph, always the composed gentleman, now seemed two seconds away from throwing a punch.

Stuck between them, Emilia felt like the filling in a sandwich cookie—crushed from both sides, no room to move.

Afraid she might crack under the pressure, she clutched her head, faking a wince as she leaned into Milana, pinching her waist on the sly.

"Ow... my head... it hurts..."

Milana caught on instantly. Emilia was always quick on her feet!

She immediately steadied Emilia, her voice urgent: "Mr. Cook, Mr. Willis, please stop arguing. Ms. Harvey, she—"

Zahir's attention snapped to Emilia, concern wiping out everything else. He scooped her up without a second thought, worry cracking his voice. "Emilia, what's wrong? Let's get you to a hospital!"

Joseph, a beat slower, let his hand—which had hovered mid-air—fall. His jaw tight, he ordered, "Get in the car. We're going to the hospital."

Emilia waved a weak hand from Zahir's arms, her voice feathery. "No need. Just some memory flashes—they come and go. Let's head back? I don't want to keep my family waiting."

In the end, both men had no choice but to give in.

Milana quickly slipped into the front passenger seat, leaving the backseat to Emilia and her two admirers.

With Joseph on one side and Zahir on the other, the atmosphere could've frozen water.

To head off another flare-up, Emilia closed her eyes, letting herself look more drained than she actually was.

Zahir noticed immediately. He began massaging her temples with gentle fingers, murmuring into her ear, "Emilia, I didn't mean to cause trouble. He started it—I just want to be by your side."

He paused, sighed softly, and added with a fragile edge: "I don't want to put you in a tough spot. No matter how he comes at me, I'll take it. For you."

Emilia opened her eyes and met Zahir's wounded gaze. Her mind drifted back over the last three years.

After the fall, she'd lost her memory and was temporarily paralyzed. Zahir never hesitated to care for her—handling even the most humiliating tasks without a single complaint.

She'd felt so lost, anchoring herself to nothing, but Zahir had been her rock. He worked himself to the bone to pay for her recovery:

Mornings, delivering newspapers through brutal winters until his fingers cracked.

Days, guiding tourists, talking until his voice gave out.

Nights, grinding away at freelance design projects, pulling all-nighters and putting up with nightmare clients.

Whenever she asked why he went so far for her, Zahir would always smile and say:

"Because you're the angel the universe sent to me."

Remembering all of it, Emilia couldn't find a single fault in him.

Her expression softened. She reached over and clasped his large hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"No need to endure."

After all, she was the one who'd lost her memory. Between the three of them, Zahir was the only innocent one. It wouldn't be fair to let him take the hit.

Hearing her words, Zahir's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. His emotions were spilling over, but he broke into a bright, sunlit grin—warm, unguarded, pure.

Joseph caught a glimpse of their entwined hands. His fingers tightened around the rosary beads he was holding.

He shut his eyes, fighting to suppress the possessive urge clawing at his gaze.

Patience... Just a little longer...

They soon pulled up to the Harvey family estate.

The Harvey family had built their name over three generations. Even in Washington's cutthroat real estate market, they'd held onto a sprawling, impressive property in the heart of the city.

Emilia stepped out of the car and looked up at the massive estate, a strange sense of familiarity washing over her.

Joseph spoke up suddenly. "The Harvey family has changed quite a bit in the last three years..." He paused, then added, as if remembering her amnesia, "Either way, try not to let it unsettle you."

Unsettled?

Right now, everyone in the Harvey family felt like a stranger to her. What was there to be unsettled about?

Emilia thought she'd mentally prepared herself—but the moment she stepped through the grand entrance of the Harvey mansion, she realized she hadn't prepared nearly enough.

*Crash!*

A coffee cup shattered at Zahir's feet, porcelain scattering across the marble floor.

"Emilia! So you disappear for three years, break off your engagement to the Cook family, for this outsider? You've brought shame to the Owens family!"

Emilia Harvey stared at the shattered porcelain scattered across her feet, her brow knitting in confusion. Elopement? Faking her death? A wild man?

She turned her gaze toward the source of the outburst on the sofa. The man had aged, sure, but his features still carried the ghost of boyish charm—the fading echo of a once-handsome youth.

Landen Owens. Her biological father. According to Milana, Landen Owens was famously devoted to his wife and notoriously soft on his daughter. But right now, there was zero sign of that.

Had Milana lied to her? Emilia shot a quick, instinctive glance at Milana, who looked just as taken aback—every bit as clueless as Emilia about the scene unfolding in front of them.

A gentle voice sliced through the tension.

"Oh, Landen, don't get all worked up."

A woman with carefully styled hair, seated beside Landen, took his hand and murmured soothingly, "Look, the important thing is Emilia's back. That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"Hmph! Spoiled rotten by her mother! Always so stubborn and domineering!"

Landen seemed to settle a little under the woman's calming touch, but his tone still bristled with grievance.

The woman patted his hand, shot him a playful look, then rose and made her way to Emilia.

She clasped Emilia's hand, her eyes glistening, and let out a soft sigh. "Emilia, sweetheart, don't be scared. Your father's just upset that you've been gone for three years, leaving your duties behind."

"Now that you're back, it'd be perfect for you to settle down with Joseph Cook. As for this young man..." She glanced at Zahir Willis, who seemed jolted, half-hiding behind Emilia. A flicker of disdain crossed her face before she continued, "Maybe we can just give him some money and send him on his way."

Hearing that, Landen finally relaxed a bit, waving his hand dismissively. "Listen to your Aunt Felicity. That country boy doesn't belong in the Owens household."

With that, he slid a check for five hundred thousand across the table toward Zahir, his tone dripping with condescension. "Take this check and leave."

Zahir stared at the check, his grip tightening around Emilia's hand.

Feeling the tension ripple through him, Emilia glanced over. His usually confident face was now etched with humiliation, and his eyes shimmered with tears he stubbornly refused to let fall—like a fragile flower standing defiant in a storm.

Emilia gently wiped the tears threatening to spill from his eyes, then ruffled his hair. "Why are you crying? Scared by a barking dog?"

Zahir burst out laughing at that.

Landen's face went dark. He slammed his hand on the table, jabbing a finger at Emilia. "Emilia! Where are your manners? Have you turned into some uncultured country bumpkin in the last three years?"

The woman hid a satisfied smirk behind her composed mask. Perfect. Emilia—proud, stubborn Emilia—would never tolerate that kind of insult from Landen. With her temper, she'd spin on her heel and storm out. And if she walked away? Then control of the Harvey family...

She quickly suppressed her excitement and reached for Emilia's hand, feigning concern. "Oh dear, Emilia, you—"

*Smack.*

Emilia smacked the woman's hand away without missing a beat. "Enough with the theatrics."

The woman yelped and yanked her hand back, pain tingling up her arm.

Without sparing her another glance, Emilia grabbed Zahir and swept past her, her strides long and purposeful.

It took everything the woman had not to let her mask crack.

Emilia then settled onto the sofa beside Landen, pulling Zahir down next to her.

Landen was stunned by her sheer audacity. His eyes widened as he growled, "Emilia, you—"

*Bang!*

Emilia casually picked up a fruit knife from the table and hurled it straight at Landen.

A flash of silver cut through the air.

Before Landen could even process what was happening, the knife embedded itself in the sofa cushion beside his thigh, the handle still quivering.

One inch closer... and his blood would have been spilled.

His body went rigid. He stared at the knife buried next to him, cold sweat beading on his brow.

Slowly, he raised his eyes to Emilia—fear creeping into his gaze.

Had his daughter lost her mind in just three years?

Emilia ignored his stricken expression. She calmly tugged the knife free from the sofa, leaned back at ease, and twirled it between her fingers, a faint smirk curling her lips. "Mr. Owens, I think you've got something twisted."

"What did you call me?" Landen's voice cracked, disbelief flooding his features.

Emilia didn't answer. She kept going. "First of all, as far as I'm aware, this is the Harvey estate. You're an Owens—what makes you think you can throw your weight around here?"

"Secondly, you look down on Zahir for being from the countryside, but let's be real, Mr. Owens—your own roots aren't exactly shining. Money really does go to people's heads, doesn't it?"

Her words rang in Landen's ears like thunder—each one a stinging slap to his pride.

Then something flickered across Emilia's face, something that twisted into an all-too-familiar expression from his past.

Old humiliations. The nightmares that had haunted him for decades. All of it crashed over him at once.

Landen's face burned with shame, and fury made his chest heave. His authority crumbled into dust. "Yo-you..." he sputtered, his face turning ruddy with anger.

Watching him nearly choke on his rage, Emilia just smiled, soft and civil. "At the end of the day... you're just a live-in son-in-law here. And bringing your mistress home? Really, Mr. Owens. That takes some nerve."

The intel from Milana hadn't mentioned this woman at all.

Clearly, she wasn't part of the Harvey or Owens clan.

The intimate, tangled glances she stole with Landen made her role all too obvious.

So this was the "change in the Harvey family" Joseph had hinted at.

"Wait... Uncle is just a son-in-law?" Zahir suddenly piped up, doing a terrible job of hiding his shock and disdain as he eyed Landen. "If I were in his shoes, being Emilia's husband would be worth dying for."

He went on, "Forget bringing a mistress home—I wouldn't even think about looking at another woman!"

"Back in my village, men who cheat and drag mistresses back home get a lot worse than a slap on the wrist."

Zahir picked up the check Landen had shoved at him, then slowly tore it to pieces, letting the scraps flutter to the floor.

With an innocent blink, he added mischievously, "Acting like a big shot with Emilia's money, huh? Wow. Impressive."

Landen's eyes rolled with fury at the both of them, his complexion turning an ugly shade of purple.

"Enough! That's enough, Emilia! You've been gone three years, and this is how you repay me? Siding with outsiders and turning against your own father?"

With a bellow, Landen shouted, "Guards! Seize this ungrateful daughter and that gutter trash!"