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?"

Emilia Harvey might have lost her memory, but she sure as hell hadn't lost her instincts. Joseph Cook ran Harvey Corporation, but he was just an in-law. His footing wasn't nearly as solid as Landen Owens's—Emilia's biological father, a man woven deep into the family's fabric. Landen had the upper hand: years of entrenched ties and a sprawling network. If Joseph wanted to untangle himself, he'd need a serious ally.

Who better than Emilia herself? Three years gone from her memory, completely out of sync with the London scene—she was the perfect pawn. Her amnesia made her easier to manipulate. Plus, Joseph had spent those three years playing the waiting game, raising the kids she'd supposedly abandoned, all while keeping the family business from sinking.

To the public, he was devotion personified—a true family man. Any other woman might've fallen for that kind of unwavering loyalty. But Emilia saw straight through it. Nobody does something for nothing. There's always a price.

Zahir treated her kindly because he wanted her affection. But Joseph? What was his endgame?

Their marriage had been a calculated move between families, empty of real love. Joseph, with his cold, almost monkish demeanor, wasn't exactly chasing romance. So what was left?

Money. The Harvey fortune.

Listening to Emilia's accusations, Joseph felt a dull ache in his chest—like being stabbed with a blunt blade. He stayed silent, his eyes locked on her moving red lips, unreadable and heavy. He clenched his fists, the sharp bite of his nails digging into his palms grounding him, keeping him from reaching out and taking what he wanted.

He closed his eyes, forcing a calm over his churning thoughts. The moment wasn't right—he couldn't rush.

When he opened them again, his voice came out steady, controlled, revealing nothing: "Emilia, whether you trust me or not, I would never hurt you."

Emilia stared into those eyes behind the gold-rimmed glasses—truthful, sincere. He carried the faint scent of pinewood, reserved and introspective, just like the man himself.

Without confirming or denying anything, she released his tie. She stepped back, settling onto the garden's stone bench, her tone blunt:

"Explain."

Joseph took a deep breath, sat across from her, and poured coffee before speaking: "That woman you saw, Florence—she's your father's old flame. She moved into the Harvey mansion three years ago."

"And you have a half-sister, a few months older. Her name is Florence Owens."

Three years ago? A half-sister?

Emilia almost laughed. The man everyone praised as a model husband and father had moved his old flame and their secret daughter into the house while his legitimate daughter was presumed dead after a cliff fall!

Men are only decent when they're pinned to the wall.

"Go on," she said, drumming her fingers on the table—a telltale sign of agitation.

Joseph caught the gesture and continued. Three years ago, when Emilia vanished, her mother, Wanda Harvey, fell gravely ill from grief and worry. The Alps' cliffs were notoriously deadly; surviving a fall was nearly impossible. Despite extensive searches, months passed with no sign of Emilia.

Left with only one daughter, Wanda couldn't take the loss and took to her bed. During that time, Landen introduced his illegitimate daughter, Florence, claiming he'd had no idea she existed until then. He spun a sob story about his past breakup with Florence's mother, learning about the pregnancy too late to be part of her life, and her choice to raise Florence on her own.

"Florence is a good kid, had a tough childhood without a father. Now that she's back, can't we help her fit in—especially since we don't know what happened to Emilia?" Landen had pleaded.

His audacity made Wanda's condition worse. With Wanda sick and Emilia missing, opportunists inside Harvey Corporation seized the moment to stir up chaos. Board members and competitors started scheming for a takeover, with Landen using his status as Wanda's husband and Emilia's father to push for control.

Milana was pushed out during the turmoil.

Landen rallied a chunk of the board to his side, but Joseph shut him down. He produced a paternity certificate for the children and a notarized letter from Wanda giving him authority to manage the company while Emilia was gone. That document—sanctioned by Wanda as a major shareholder—was the game changer, putting Joseph in charge.

Joseph paused, signaling that he was done.

Emilia tapped her fingers on the table, letting the silence stretch, then asked, "Where's my mother now? Is she alive?"

Her voice was soft, empty.

Joseph shook his head with a sigh: "She's alive, but I don't know where she is."

"What do you mean?"

"While I gained control of the company, Landen moved your mother without my knowledge—transferred her to an overseas facility," Joseph explained, his tone heavy with guilt. "I've been searching for three years, and I only recently found out she's in a hidden care home abroad."

He paused, his sigh deep and genuine: "I'm sorry, Emilia."

Emilia didn't acknowledge the apology. She asked another question instead: "What did Landen get in exchange for keeping my mother hidden?"

Given Joseph's abilities, Emilia doubted he was naïve. Landen had failed to seize power, so why would Joseph tolerate him for three years? Unless Landen had used Wanda as leverage in some kind of deal.

Joseph was surprised by her sharpness, but he lowered his gaze. The reflection in his gold-rimmed glasses masked whatever was in his eyes.

"He wanted two core technologies from Harvey Corporation—ones that account for thirty percent of our profits."

Thirty percent? Landen had some nerve! Threatening the company's lifeline would make Joseph step carefully, too afraid to provoke him.

"You could've refused the deal," Emilia pointed out.

If Joseph had said no, Landen couldn't have blackmailed him, and Joseph would've had full control.

Joseph lifted his eyes, a rare warmth softening his usual cool demeanor: "Emilia, you don't need to test me. We're husband and wife, and your mother is under my protection."

His stare was so intense it made Emilia uncomfortable enough to look away: "We don't have any romantic ties."

"But we have children."

"Children?"

Of course! Emilia suddenly realized she hadn't even asked about the kids. As far as she knew, she and Joseph had never slept together!

Were the records wrong? Had they actually been together—and had children?

If so, she'd need to sort out whatever was going on with Zahir!

"Mommy~"

"Mommy! Is that you, Mommy?"