One of the maids reported nervously, "Mr. Seyfried, Ms. Waldram moved into the storage room in the north wing today."

Wayne's expression darkened right away. He strode down the hallway and kicked the storage room door open.

The wooden door slammed against the wall with a loud bang.

I was sitting on the edge of the bed watching the snow. Hearing the noise, I turned to look at him.

Wayne strode up to me. His gaze swept across the crude room before settling on the wrinkled and flat black travel bag beside my bed.

He demanded, "What kind of act are you putting on now? Ingie just said she wanted the master bedroom. Who told you to move into a place like this? Are you deliberately trying to make me look bad?"

I stood up and met his gaze. "All the other guest rooms have Ms. Bacon's luggage in them. This was the only empty room. It doesn't matter to me where I stay."

My calm attitude only infuriated Wayne further.

He suddenly grabbed my wrist with tremendous force, revealing a vicious scar more than five inches long on my forearm.

I had gotten that scar three years ago while shielding him from an assassination attempt by a business rival. Back then, a military bayonet had pierced straight through my forearm. I had nearly died from blood loss in the operating room.

When Wayne saw the scar, there wasn't the slightest trace of sympathy in his eyes. Instead, he looked irritated at the sight of it.

He sneered, "Do you keep this scar exposed every day to remind me that I owe you one for saving my life? Ingie is timid. After she saw the scar on your arm, she was so frightened that she couldn't even eat her lunch!

"Starting tomorrow, you'll wear long sleeves whenever you're in the manor. If you can't do that, then move into the guardhouse outside the gates for a few days. Stop wandering around in front of Ingie!"

Wayne had used the cruelest words he could conjure in an attempt to hurt me, trying to make me react the way I used to—heartbroken and desperate to defend myself.

He was waiting for me to break down. He was expecting me to lower my head and admit that it was all my fault.

But as I looked at his face that was somewhat contorted with anger, I felt nothing at all.

I didn't argue, nor did I cry. I shook free from his grip and turned to pick up my black bag.

"Okay. I'll move into the guardhouse right now," I said without emotion.

Carrying my bag, I walked past him and headed straight for the door.

Wayne was absolutely taken aback. He hadn't gotten the reaction he expected. In his eyes, my compliance had become an outrageously arrogant form of defiance instead.

He strode after me and snatched my bag from me. Then, he forcefully yanked open the manor's front door.

A flurry of icy wind and snow rushed into the hallway.

Wayne hurled my bag into the snow and pointed outside. "Since you love putting on this act so much, then get out of here! And don't ever come back! I'd like to see how long an orphan with nowhere to go can survive in Saphira's snowstorm without me!"

I stood at the doorway wearing nothing but a thin cashmere sweater. The biting and cold wind cut across my face. I looked at my bag lying outside in the snow.

Without the slightest hesitation, I stepped through the door. I walked into the blizzard without looking back.

Wayne stood inside, watching my back intently. Then, he slammed the door shut.

The heavy bang echoed through the snowy night.

I walked into the snow and bent down. I picked up the bag and brushed the snow off its surface.

My phone screen lit up as a call from Micah came in.

He said over the phone, "Hillary, our convoy has entered Saphira. I'll be there to take you home in half an hour."

The snowfall intensified. The fierce wind carried icy flakes that struck my face relentlessly.

I was wearing only a thin cashmere sweater. The chilling cold seeped through the fabric and into my very bones.

Before long, my legs became numb from the freezing temperature. Every step felt stiff and painfully heavy.

I didn't stop walking, nor did I look back at the tightly shut iron gates of Seyfried Manor.

When I reached the intersection outside the manor district, 12 black Rolls-Royce Phantoms came to a synchronized stop in front of me through the snowstorm.

The door of the car in the middle opened. Micah stepped out wearing a custom-made black overcoat. He strode toward me through the snow.

The moment he saw my thin clothing and frostbitten cheeks, there was a look of fury that surged rapidly in his eyes. He removed the overcoat that still carried his body heat and wrapped it tightly around me, pulling me protectively into his arms.

"How could Wayne let you stand in the snow dressed like this?" he fumed, clenching his jaw hard. His voice was thick with suppressed rage, and he looked heartbroken.

He apologized, "Sorry, Hillary. I came too late."

I leaned against his broad, reassuring shoulder. At that moment, I felt the warmth of family and affection that I hadn't experienced in so long.

I shook my head and spoke in a remarkably calm tone. "Not at all. Your timing was perfect. Let's go home, Micah."

He lifted me into his arms and carefully carried me into the back seat of the car. The heater inside was running at full strength. Sensation gradually returned to my stiff limbs.

The convoy turned around in the snowstorm and sped toward Saphira International Airport.

…

Meanwhile, the atmosphere inside Seyfried Manor had become unbearably tense. Wayne sat on a leather couch, holding a glass of red wine that had long since gone cold. He loosened his tie irritably, his eyes fixed on the antique wall clock.

The hour hand had already reached 11 on the clock. A full three hours had passed since he had thrown me out.

Carrying a plate of sliced fruit, Ingrid walked over and tried to lean into his arms.

She said, "Wayne, Hillary is just too stubborn. It's snowing so heavily outside. She's probably hiding somewhere, waiting for you to go find her."

Wayne shoved her hand away abruptly. The plate crashed to the floor, and fruit scattered everywhere. He rose to his feet and strode to the floor-to-ceiling window. Then, he stared out into the endless white that stretched on in the night.

For the past seven years, I had never been away from him for more than a single day. No matter how coldly he treated me after an argument, I would always bring a bowl of hot broth to his study the next morning.

He was convinced that I would never truly leave. Right then, he believed that the cold and snow would become so unbearable for me that I would end up kneeling outside the gate, crying and begging him to let me back in.

Yet, three hours had already passed, and there still wasn't any movement or commotion outside the door.

A strange agitation and overwhelming unease suddenly shot up in Wayne's heart.

Turning around, he roared at the butler, Greg Firth, who was standing in the corner. "Go open the gate! See if Hillary has frozen to death out there!"

Greg immediately rushed into the snowstorm with several bodyguards.

Ten minutes later, he came running back covered in snow, his expression extremely grim.

He reported, "Mr. Seyfried, there's no one outside the gate. We searched around the entire manor district, but even Ms. Waldram's footprints have already been covered by the snow."

The wine glass in Wayne's hand cracked under his grip. Clenching his teeth, he stared ahead with dark, menacing eyes.

"She's really gotten bold, hasn't she? Check the surveillance footage and find out where she went. And freeze all the bank cards under her name. Let's see how long she can survive out there without a penny to her name!" Wayne snarled.

Greg immediately went to make the necessary calls. A few minutes later, he returned carrying a tablet. His hands were trembling as he handed it to Wayne.

"Mr. Seyfried, the surveillance footage shows that Ms. Waldram got into a convoy after reaching the intersection. The license plates on those cars are reserved for the most powerful and influential families in Saphira," Greg said.

Wayne stared at the screen showing the 12 Rolls-Royces.

His pupils dilated sharply.