An hour later, Jaylyn found herself seated in a warmly lit, upscale bistro downtown. The soft hum of jazz and the crisp clink of champagne glasses offered a refreshing contrast to the suffocating tension she had left behind at the Sovereign Tower. They had spent the first portion of the evening toasting to her newfound freedom, the conversation light and unburdened.

But the celebratory mood didn't last. Halfway through their dinner, Cora suddenly stopped mid-sentence. She glanced toward the other side of the restaurant, hesitating for a moment before speaking. "Jaylyn, isn't that Haiden? Why is that scumbag eating alone?"

Jaylyn calmly lifted her gaze. It was indeed Haiden.

He seemed to have had a bit too much to drink. His dark, heavy eyes were half-closed as he leaned back against the leather booth. Yet, even in his slight inebriation, there was no trace of dishevelment; he still maintained that same cold, untouchable, and impeccably handsome aura.

Jaylyn said nothing, her expression completely unreadable.

Sitting across from her, Cora felt a surge of anger just looking at him. She let out a cold scoff and cursed, "Doesn't this jerk have a new favorite? Where is she? I heard his mother set them up—an Ivy League graduate, sweet-tempered, comes from a modest background but has some serious family connections. Haiden treats her like an absolute treasure. That snob... Jaylyn, do you want me to go over there and teach him a lesson?"

Jaylyn’s mind wandered for a fleeting moment as she listened.

Highly educated, sweet-tempered, solid background.

She was, indeed, very different from Jaylyn.

During the seven years she had been by Haiden's side, Jaylyn had always been ruthlessly pragmatic. To survive, she had learned to be thick-skinned, doing whatever it took to get things done—whether it was tearing down her boundaries to negotiate business deals, or catering to him in bed. Pride and dignity were luxuries she simply hadn't had the right to demand.

But that was in the past.

"There's no need. We had an amicable breakup," Jaylyn replied, her voice cool and entirely unbothered. Feeling a sudden wave of boredom toward the whole situation, she stood up gracefully. "Keep eating. I'm going to the restroom."

Just as she was about to head back to her table, a strong scent of alcohol wafted from around the corner, and a tall shadow suddenly loomed over her.

Before Jaylyn could even react, Haiden’s kiss crashed down on her.

It was urgent and ferocious. He pinned her forcefully against the cold marble wall, biting her lip and kissing her with a punishing intensity, as if he wanted to devour her whole.

After a brief moment of shock, a wave of fury washed over Jaylyn. However, there was no panic, no trembling.

With absolute composure, she pressed her hands against his chest and shoved him away with all her might. In the next smooth motion, she raised her hand and landed a sharp, echoing slap across his face.

Her voice was ice-cold and impeccably steady: "Mr. Holland, you have the wrong person. I am not Evie."

In the dim light of the hallway, the stinging pain on his cheek finally snapped Haiden out of his drunken haze.

He frowned deeply, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. Leaning back against the wall, he looked at her with an impatient scowl. "Why are you here?"

"None of your business," Jaylyn replied, her tone freezing over.

Just as the words left her mouth, Evie appeared from down the hall.

Catching sight of Jaylyn, a brief flicker of awkwardness crossed Evie's sweet face. But she quickly recovered, walking over to wrap her arm intimately around Haiden’s. She smiled—a perfectly obedient and sweet smile that clearly carried the intention of marking her territory.

"Miss Brennan," Evie said softly. "What a coincidence."

Jaylyn didn't spare them an ounce of unnecessary emotion. She smoothed her dress and explained with polite indifference, "Mr. Holland mistook me for someone else. Miss Evie, I have things to do. I won't interrupt you two."

Without a second glance at the man she had spent seven years with, Jaylyn turned on her heel and walked away, her back straight and her steps unwavering.

The moment she left, Evie nervously stared at the red mark on Haiden’s handsome face.

"Haiden, what happened to your face?"

Haiden lowered his eyes, taking a drag of his cigarette before replying with a flat, indifferent tone. "Got scratched by a cat."

Evie bit her lip, her eyes instantly rimmed with red.