Charisse knew he did it on purpose. She raised her hand and swung at him without thinking.

Elliot caught her wrist effortlessly-cold.

Now that things had calmed down a bit, he finally noticed: her hand was freezing, way too cold for summer.

Charisse shoved at him, using both hands and her whole body, her voice sharp with anger. "Elliot, you're still the same jerk!"

To Elliot, her anger only meant one thing-she cared. The more pissed she got, the more it proved she still gave a damn about that useless boyfriend of hers.

"What, scared now?" he let out a low chuckle. "If you had the guts to do it, why be afraid of people knowing?"

"I'm done talking to you." Charisse's tone was laced with frustration. "Can I leave now?"

No response. She scoffed, throwing the question right back at him. "What, Mr. Grant wants to go for round two? If you keep pulling this, I'm gonna think you're still hung up on me."

Elliot laughed coldly. "You really think I wanted to kiss you just now? Don't flatter yourself. It was just... heat of the moment. Old feelings?" He looked at her with disdain, "There's nothing left between us-get over it."

After tossing those words at her, he turned and walked into the inner room without a second glance.

Charisse gripped the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles turned white.

What he said wasn't even close to the worst she'd ever heard. After her family went bankrupt, she'd heard stuff ten times more brutal. She thought she'd toughened up. Clearly, not enough.

It's fine. She tried to convince herself it wasn't a big deal. At least she'd earned five million out of it-enough to cover her dad's medical bills for now.

She headed to the staff lounge first to change her clothes before walking out to the hotel lobby.

Owen spotted her and dashed over, anxious. "Charisse, why'd you text me like that? Was it something I did?"

Charisse kept her eyes down, avoiding his gaze. "It's not you, Owen. You've been great. We're just... not right for each other."

"Not right? Is it because of my mom? Don't worry about that-I've started trying to talk her around. I promise, I'll make her accept us. Let's get married next year. No, this year. This year, okay?"

Owen was trying so hard not to push her, keeping his voice soft, like any extra pressure might make her crack.

Charisse took a deep breath and looked at him. "Owen, I... I fell for someone else."

She just couldn't bring herself to explain what happened tonight.

When Owen noticed the cut on her lip, his expression froze. Color drained from his face, and he almost lost his balance.

"I'm sorry."

Charisse bit down on her lip, reopening the cut there again. The sting was sharp, but she kept her voice steady. "Owen, thank you for everything-especially covering my dad's medical bills. I'll pay you back."

"Who is it?" Owen grabbed her wrist, not letting her leave. His eyes were rimmed red, hurt and confusion tangled in his voice. "Just tell me. Who is he? Who the hell is it?"

"I'm sorry."

"Tell me!" Owen suddenly shouted. "Who?!"

Heads turned across the hotel lobby. Even Elliot, just stepping out of the private elevator, paused and looked over.

"Owen, don't be like this," Charisse said, guilt twisting in her chest at his reaction. "Come on, calm down. You know we don't work. Your mom's not wrong-my family's bankrupt, we're in debt, my dad's stuck in the hospital for who knows how long, and on top of that..."

She took a breath before continuing, "I've got a record. My law license was revoked. I'm just working in a hotel now. Your family's well-off, they care about reputation. The truth is, they'd never accept me. Owen, we just don't have a future."

"But none of that's your fault!" Owen's voice cracked, his anger sinking into raw desperation. "The bankruptcy had nothing to do with you, and the time in jail-I've been looking into that. I know you're innocent, Charisse. I'll clear your name. Please... don't push me away."

He wasn't yelling anymore, just pleading, like all his strength had drained away.

Charisse gently reached up and ruffled his messy curls. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

Owen's eyes were completely red now, tears threatening to fall.

Charisse softly slipped her hand out of his grasp and walked away.

Outside, in the parking lot, she spotted his car-a plain white compact, barely worth ten grand. Her mind suddenly flashed back to the first time she'd met Owen, when he pulled up in a flashy yellow sports car, revved the engine right past her, then came back around and asked, "Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I drive by again?"

Since then, he'd done so much for her. Paid her dad's hospital bills, chased away loan sharks, kept things together for her when everything was falling apart. He'd burned through money like it was nothing, until his parents cut him off-froze his cards, stopped his cash. So, he sold his house, his car, even his sneakers... all for her.

Charisse owed him. A lot.

And even if tonight hadn't happened, she'd already made up her mind not to drag him down with her anymore.

Every cent he spent on her, she'd written down. Someday, she'd pay him back. Slowly but surely.

As she turned around, she spotted him through the hotel's tall, gleaming window-still standing there, shoulders slumped, looking like a kicked puppy, all lost and heartbroken.

Not far behind him stood a tall figure-Elliot.

Even with that distance between them, Charisse could feel it-he was watching her.

Elliot really was watching her.

After seeing how she broke up with Owen, he finally realized-so this is how she ends things with people.

Soft voice, hesitant farewell, that kind of reluctant sadness and helplessness-he could see it all clearly, even just standing there.

So gentle.

Not at all how she'd been with him.

Elliot let out a dry laugh and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray by the hallway.

As he walked past Owen, his steps slowed for a second-he'd caught a whisper from the man.

"I'm not breaking up. No way I'm giving up on her..."

Even though Owen was still stuck in his heartbreak, he could feel the overwhelming pressure from this stranger walking by. He glanced at the man-clean-cut, refined, practically screamed money-and hesitantly asked, "Who... who are you?"

Someone like him, if he were from Draycott, Owen definitely would've heard of him.

Elliot didn't answer. Just gave a fleeting glance and walked off like nothing happened.

The impression he left behind though-too striking. Perfect looks, even sharper aura-and completely unfamiliar.

Out of nowhere, Owen remembered what Charisse had said only minutes ago:

"I like someone else now."

Meanwhile, Charisse had just hopped into a cab, nearly shouting at the driver to floor it to Northgate General Hospital.

Just half a minute earlier, she'd gotten a call from Claire Abbott.

Her dad was in critical condition.

By the time Charisse arrived, her father had already been rushed into emergency surgery. Her aunt Claire sat in the hallway, tears streaming down her face.

"Aunt Claire, what happened? Dad was fine earlier today! How did it get like this all of a sudden?"

Claire's eyes shifted, avoiding hers. "It was... Clayton's people."

The name sounded like a punch in the gut.

Calling Clayton Ellis a kingpin of Draycott was putting it lightly. He'd gotten rich off the shady business years ago, and even though he'd cleaned things up since, everyone knew he still had his hands in some underground pie-usury, for one.

Charisse had seen the thugs he sent out to collect money-absolute nightmares. Thuggish, violent, and a few even drove people to their deaths. Total desperadoes.

And unlucky them-her family had taken a loan from him.

The principal had been paid off long ago, but the interest had ballooned to something massive. With Clayton's crew, debts like that weren't just forgiven.

"So they came to collect again? That what made my dad so stressed he collapsed?"

"No, not about the debt this time..." Claire's voice faltered. "It's..."

She hesitated, lips trembling, before she finally forced it out. "Clayton said... he wants to marry you. If you agree, he'll write off all the debt-and cover your father's medical bills too."

"To Clayton?" Charisse's voice shot up. "His son's over ten years older than me!"

Claire kept her gaze low, clearly uncomfortable, wringing her hands.

Charisse's face turned colder by the second. "Aunt Claire... please don't tell me you said yes."Claire froze, panicking as she stared at her. "Charisse, I didn't have a choice... I swear..."

So she really had said yes.

"I told you I'd figure something out about the debt, Aunt Claire. Was that really something you could just agree to on your own?"

Claire broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. "Charisse, you didn't see those people. They had a knife to my throat and said they'd slit it if I didn't agree..."

"And what could you do, really?" she continued, through her crying. "Look at how bad things are at home. You think there's anything a girl like you can do at this point? You've struggled for so long, has anything actually changed? No! You working part-time just isn't enough! Even me-I've been helping you all these years, and now I can't even afford your sister's tuition anymore, I-"

"I get it, Aunt Claire." Charisse cut her off, her voice flat. "You don't have to continue."

"Charisse, I'm not blaming you. I'm hurting too, okay?" Claire cried. "You're so young... you think I wanted you to marry some old guy in his fifties? But what else can we do? It's Clayton we're talking about! Even when your family was doing great, no one dared to mess with him-let alone now..."

"And after you agreed, then what?" Charisse's voice was steady, almost too calm.

"They said they'd be in touch. That was it."

Charisse stayed silent for a while before she finally said, "Alright, Aunt Claire. Go get some rest."

"But your dad..."

"I'll stay with him. You should go."

Claire tried a few more times to say something, but eventually left.

Charisse let out a long breath, slumping against the cold hospital wall like all her energy had drained out of her.

When she was four, Aunt Claire divorced and came to live with her mom. Her parents welcomed both her aunt and infant cousin into their home. For years, Aunt Claire and her cousin lived off her family.

Her parents had always been generous with them, giving them the best they could. After her mom passed when she was seventeen, Aunt Claire became the closest thing to family she had left besides her dad. Charisse had leaned on her a lot back then.

Even after the family went bankrupt, Aunt Claire still helped them out. But Charisse could feel it-things weren't the same anymore. That closeness was long gone.

And now, it hit her hard-outside of her dad, she had no one left.

She pulled out her phone and aimlessly scrolled through her contacts, not knowing who to call or talk to.

Just then, a news alert popped up: a female body was found near Clearstone River at 7 p.m. A comment below read, "Bet it's Clayton' people again."

But when she refreshed the page, the comment had vanished.

Clayton. A name that had basically become code for the devil in Draycott.

Charisse shut off her phone and hunched over, burying her face in her arms.

The surgery dragged on till dawn before her father was finally wheeled out. Though he'd made it past the worst part, he only woke up for a couple of minutes before slipping back into a deep coma.

A doctor called Charisse into the office, pointing at some scans while speaking seriously. "Your father's liver is in really bad shape. It's life-threatening. Our recommendation is a liver transplant as soon as possible."

Her eyes widened slightly. "A liver transplant?"

"Yes. The cost isn't the biggest issue-it's the organ. Right now, there's no compatible donor in our system, so your family should try to look elsewhere too. The sooner the transplant, the better the chance of recovery."

The relief Charisse had felt from not having to stress over her father's medical bills after getting that five million-it vanished in a flash.

She stumbled out of the office in a daze, then everything went pitch black. The next thing she knew, she was falling to the floor, hard.

She vaguely heard quick footsteps approaching, then felt a firm yet gentle pair of hands lifting her up. She tried to see who it was, but her vision blurred too badly to make out any features.

A familiar, calm voice asked, "Hey, are you okay?"

She couldn't answer. It wasn't until she'd been carried onto a hospital bed, rushed into the ER, and hooked up to an IV drip that the haze in her vision finally started to clear.

Not far away stood a tall figure in a white coat, his back facing her as he read through her chart.

She coughed twice the moment she tried to speak. The man turned around and gave her a warm smile. "Feeling better?"

Charisse nodded. "Yeah, much better. Thank you, Dr. Reid."

Maxwell Reid walked over. "I told you to come in every two months for a blood test. It's been six months."

"I didn't feel anything off, so I thought I was fine."

He gently rested the back of his hand on hers. "This cold? You really think that's fine?"

Charisse stayed quiet.Maxwell sat by her bed, his voice low and serious. "Anemia isn't a joke, Charisse. You've got a rare condition, you know you can't afford to get sick. If something goes wrong, it'll be impossible to even find compatible blood for you."

The mention of blood brought back memories-his first time meeting Charisse.

Back then, he was just a med student, doing rounds with his mentor. That night, they were called to a luxurious villa to treat someone.

The patient was a teenage girl, unconscious, and the cause: massive blood loss. Yet there were no wounds.

Then he noticed dozens of tiny needle marks along her arm.

She eventually woke up, but soon someone came in, asking to draw more blood from her. His mentor refused firmly, but she insisted.

The doctor finally managed to find a clear spot among the bruises to insert the needle. "Did he make it?" she asked, her voice quiet.

The other doctor nodded. "Thanks to you, he's out of danger now."

She let out a shaky breath. "Good. That's all I wanted."

But the whole thing wrecked her. On top of donating too much blood, her mom passed away soon after. She was down for almost a year, and ever since, her body never fully bounced back. Anemia became a chronic issue.

Strangely though, she seemed to have blocked it all out-never brought it up again in all the years that followed.

Maxwell handed her a stack of meds and jotted a prescription. "Make sure you follow the schedule, all right? Set phone reminders, whatever it takes-don't keep forgetting."

"Got it. I'll take them on time and come back for check-ups."

"And about your dad's condition-I've heard too. Finding a matching donor is tough, but we're keeping an eye out. The hospital will contact you ASAP if there's any news."

She nodded, then hesitated, asking, "Is the hospital the only place to look for a donor?"

"There are some online forums too. I'll help you post something."

He didn't mention the black market-but she already knew it existed.

In Draycott, Clayton ran that scene.

After leaving the hospital, she headed to a hotel to hand over her shift.

Not long after, a group of tall, intimidating men approached her. "Miss Walton, Mr. Ellis would like a word."