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!"

At Landen Owens' command, a squad of seasoned guards dressed in black filed in.

Zahir Willis shot to his feet, stepping in front of Emilia Harvey. The easygoing act was gone, replaced by something sharp and dangerous.

Joseph Cook's brow knitted slightly as he addressed Landen, his tone even: "Emilia was just speaking her mind. No need to get worked up."

Speaking her mind?

Landen nearly laughed at that. "Joseph, you're her husband! It's your job to keep her in line! She brings another man into this house, and you're still defending her?"

Joseph didn't flinch. "Emilia lost her memory. Mr. Willis saved her. It's understandable—and I hold no blame."

"No blame? That's real liberal of you!" Landen scoffed, the sarcasm dripping off every word.

Ignoring Joseph, Landen motioned to his men: "You might be fine with it, but I refuse to let this slide!"

Seeing that Landen wasn't listening, Joseph calmly rolled up his sleeves. His muscular forearms were taut, ready for action.

A knight in a suit—minus the armor.

Emilia couldn't help the thought as she watched. But before the guards could make a move, they suddenly recoiled, pure terror twisting their faces.

Perched on Zahir's shoulder was a brightly colored snake, as thick as a child's arm. It hissed, flicking its crimson tongue, its cold gaze locked on the guards—primed to strike.

Poisonous.

Deadly.

Everyone got the memo instantly. One bite from that thing could end you. They'd signed up for a paycheck, not a death wish.

All at once, the menacing security detail huddled together like scared hens.

Meanwhile, Zahir just tilted his head, gently stroking the snake's head, his peacock feather earring swaying as he chuckled: "Why the hesitation? It's prime time for dinner."

"You... you're threatening us?" Landen's voice quivered, his eyes darting nervously between Emilia and Zahir.

Zahir met Landen's gaze with playful ambiguity. "Threatening? Why would we?"

His expressive eyes glinted with a cold smile, his words slicing like a blade: "With those fossilized, outdated notions of yours, you're a dinosaur from another era. Are you even human?"

The combination of the venomous snake and Zahir's scathing jab hit home.

Landen's mouth opened, but nothing came out. His retort died in his throat.

Hiding her smirk, Emilia gestured for Milana to step forward.

Milana was barely breathing, frozen stiff. Since Emilia's disappearance, she'd been shuffled off to another department, out of the loop on the Harvey family's current power plays.

She'd sensed trouble from the get-go and had quietly recorded the whole encounter. Now, at Emilia's nod, she hurriedly handed over her phone. Emilia played the video for Landen.

"The heir of the Harvey family, missing for three years, finally comes home—only to be threatened and attacked by her own father and his mistress. A raw glimpse into elite family life," Emilia narrated coolly, the clip rolling on the screen.

She looked at Landen and asked, her voice flat: "How do you think this will play on social media?"

"What do you want, Emilia?" Landen's voice cracked, frustration and fear warring on his face.

He'd figured handling an amnesiac daughter would be a cakewalk. But he hadn't expected Emilia—even with her memory wiped—to be this formidable.

If she put that video online, his enemies would tear him apart with it!

The Harvey Corporation could slip right out of his grasp!

Watching Landen teeter on the edge, Emilia spoke with cold precision: "What do I want? Simple... Now that I'm back, my rules are the Harvey family's rules!"

"I don't want to hear those baseless accusations again. And as for certain people who don't belong here..."

She paused, a frosty smile curving her lips as her voice dropped to an ice-cold warning: "You have one day to handle it—or I'll show no mercy, Mr. Owens."

The woman beside Landen realized the words were aimed at her. She opened her mouth to protest, but one look at Emilia's eyes made her think better of it.

Something about Emilia's stare was fierce, unnerving—the kind of look that said crossing her would be a very bad idea. The woman swallowed her objections and went silent.

She remembered Emilia's past decisiveness all too well. Provoking her again was the last thing she wanted.

Dismissing the woman entirely, Emilia turned her attention to Milana.

Milana had sharp instincts and solid judgment—clearly worth grooming. Emilia's earlier choice of her as an assistant hadn't been random.

Collecting her thoughts, Emilia gave Milana a firm instruction: "Take Zahir to rest. Joseph, come with me."

"Yes, Ms. Harvey!" Milana's eyes lit up as she nodded eagerly.

Amnesia or not, Emilia didn't tolerate nonsense. And Milana's quick thinking with the camera had clearly earned her a point.

After three years away from New York, Milana's career had hit a standstill. Now that her mentor was back, who in the Harvey Corporation would dare look down on her again?

She'd be Emilia's fiercest ally and protector, no question.

Zahir shot a wary glance at Joseph, clinging to Emilia like a reluctant child.

Emilia brushed her fingers against his cheek, soothing him. "Go on. I'll join you soon."

"But don't take long... I get lonely~" Zahir blinked, feigning vulnerability, before finally heading off.

Milana and the others couldn't help but roll their eyes. Lonely? With a deadly snake on your shoulder, who exactly should be afraid?

The hall quickly emptied out.

Landen stormed off, dragging the woman with him. Moments later, the sounds of shattering objects and Landen's curses echoed from his quarters.

Out in the garden, Emilia stopped and turned to face Joseph directly. "Tell me what's happened in the last three years. Where's my mother? And who is that woman?"

Three years was more than enough to upend a family—especially a dynasty like the Harveys.

An assistant like Milana wouldn't know the full picture. But Joseph? As acting head of the family and the son-in-law, he had no excuse.

He knew. And he'd said nothing on the drive back.

Emilia couldn't help but question his motives.

Was it power? Position? Control over the Harvey empire?

She studied Joseph closely, her voice calm but heavy: "Joseph, we're still legally husband and wife—even if there's no love between us. United we stand, divided we fall. You understand that, right?"

As she spoke, she closed the distance, her posture regal, unyielding.

Then she grabbed him by the tie and pulled him in.

They were close now—breath mingling, the space between them charged.

Emilia caught a rare flicker of unease behind Joseph's composed gaze, just beneath those gold-rimmed glasses.

Her lips curved slightly, though her expression stayed cool. Her voice was deliberate, almost chilling:

"You kept the true state of the Harvey family from me, yet arranged for Milana to bring me back..."

"Is this your plan, Joseph? Use me as a scapegoat—stir up chaos in the Harveys so you can... make your move in the middle of it all?"