A deathly silence filled the banquet hall.

Everyone stared at the ruined glass of champagne. No one dared to speak.

The Griffin family ruled Seabridge with an iron grip. No one had ever dared cause trouble at one of their family banquets.

Ethan's chest rose and fell violently, the veins in his neck bulging.

I didn't look at him again.

My gaze moved past the crowd toward the darkest corner of the hall.

There was no light there. A wheelchair stood by the floor-to-ceiling window.

A man sat in it. He wore a black shirt, his skin carrying the ashen tone of someone who rarely saw daylight.

A silver Zippo lighter spun between his fingers. The lid clicked open and shut, the flame flickering on and off, briefly illuminating a face that was sickly ashen yet strikingly handsome.

It was Adrian.

The youngest son of the Griffin family. Ethan's uncle.

Rumor said his legs were crippled and his personality dark and unpredictable. A discarded man pushed to the edge of the family's power.

I turned and walked toward that corner.

"Nina, stop right there!" Ethan roared behind me.

I ignored him completely.

The sound of my heels striking the marble floor echoed sharply through the silent hall, each step landing like a heartbeat.

One step. Two. Three.

I stopped in front of the wheelchair.

Adrian didn't look up. His eyes remained on the lighter in his hand, as if that tiny flame was far more interesting than the chaos around us.

I bent down, bracing my hands on the wheelchair's armrests, forcing myself to meet his gaze.

The stance was aggressive, charged with a desperate, all-or-nothing resolve.

"Adrian." My voice wasn't loud, but in the silent hall it carried clearly. "Do you need a wife?"

Adrian's fingers paused on the lighter.

Holding his unfathomable gaze, I laid out my terms quickly.

"I'm a top surgeon. I can treat your legs. My background is clean. I can help you deal with the women you don't want to marry. Most importantly, you and I share the same enemy. I can help you take back your inheritance."

A wave of shocked gasps spread through the room.

Ethan rushed forward and grabbed my arm, gripping so hard it felt like he might crush the bone.

"Nina, have you lost your mind? He's crippled!"

Ethan pointed straight at Adrian. "Just to piss me off, you'd rather marry a man who can't even stand? What can he possibly give you? He doesn't even have the most basic ability a man should have!"

The lighter snapped shut.

Adrian closed the lighter.

The small flame vanished, and his face slipped back into shadow.

He slowly lifted his eyes.

There was no anger in them. Only amusement, like a spectator enjoying the show, and something far more unsettling hidden beneath.

"Dr. Sterling." His voice was rough, like sandpaper scraping across stone. "My condition isn't easy to treat."

I shook Ethan's hand off and never looked away from Adrian.

"That's convenient," I said. "I specialize in difficult cases."

The corner of Adrian's mouth lifted slowly.

The next second, he suddenly reached out.

His hand was cold and strong as it grabbed the small of my back.

The world spun.

A powerful pull dragged me down, and I landed on his lap.

Solid strength beneath me.

His arm locked around my waist like a steel clamp, holding me firmly against his chest in a silent declaration of possession.

Ethan froze in place, eyes bulging in disbelief.

Adrian didn't even glance at him. He casually smoothed the folds of my dress.

Then he lifted his eyes and glanced at Ethan, whose face had turned ashen. His tone was lazy and deliberately cruel.

"Nephew, what are you standing there for?" His hand patted lightly at my waist. "She's your aunt now."

The next day, I pushed Adrian's wheelchair to Meridian Galleria in downtown Seabridge.

Officially, I was accompanying my "disabled" uncle-in-law for some fresh air. In reality, he was reviewing the Griffin family's assets.

Adrian secretly owned thirty percent of this mall.

We had just reached the second-floor atrium when fate decided to be unpleasant.

Ethan walked out of the boutique carrying several shopping bags, with Tessa hanging on his arm.

Tessa spotted me instantly and stopped walking.

She wore full makeup and the latest couture. She looked dazzling with expensive jewelry.

When she saw me pushing Adrian's wheelchair, the smug superiority in her eyes practically overflowed.

"Oh, Nina." Tessa covered her mouth in mock surprise. "What a coincidence. You brought… Adrian shopping too? But the prices here are pretty high. Can you even afford it with your current financial situation?"

Ethan looked at us coldly, his gaze filled with disgust.

As if remembering something, Tessa took an orange shopping bag from Ethan.

She pulled out a bright orange Birkin bag and held it against herself.

"Ethan, this color is way too loud. Only tacky nouveau riche from the countryside would carry something like this. I don't like it." She turned to me with a fake smile. "But Nina, this color actually suits you. I tried it on and decided I didn't want it, but it's still brand new. Why don't you take it?"

Ethan grabbed the bag impatiently and tossed it toward me without even looking.

"Take it." His tone sounded like he was throwing scraps to a beggar. "Just like the seven years you spent with me. Maybe it's a little worn out and Tessa doesn't want it anymore, but it's still a luxury brand. Carry it. Don't embarrass the Griffin family."

The bag worth hundreds of thousands of dollars flew through the air in an arc straight toward my face.

I didn't catch it.

I simply shifted slightly and stepped to the left.

The bag slammed onto the marble floor, the expensive leather almost seeming to cry out in protest.

The air went silent for two seconds.

Ethan's expression darkened. "Nina, are you asking for trouble?"

I ignored him and looked down at the bag on the floor, frowning slightly.

I opened my purse and took out a pack of sterile medical gloves.

With a ripping sound, the bag was torn open.

I calmly pulled on two layers of gloves, snapping the elastic tight around my wrists. Then I pulled out a pair of long stainless steel surgical forceps.

Sales assistants and passersby nearby stopped to watch the scene with curiosity.

I bent down and carefully lifted the edge of the bag's handle with the tip of the forceps, minimizing contact.

It looked like I was collecting a piece of toxic evidence from a crime scene.

Ethan and Tessa froze, completely unable to understand what I was doing.

Holding the bag with the forceps, I walked toward the center of the mall.

I stopped beside the bin and released the forceps.

I stopped beside the bin and released the forceps.

The designer's bag worth hundreds of thousands dropped into the filthy trash bin with a dull thump.

"Are you insane?!" Tessa screamed, her face twisting with pain.

I removed my gloves, tossed them into the trash along with the forceps, then looked up and spoke clearly so the surrounding stores could hear.

"Based on visual inspection, the item is contaminated with excessive skin debris and high-risk bacteria, along with unidentified cheap perfume chemicals. To prevent biological contamination, it should be disposed of immediately as medical waste."

I looked at Tessa, who was trembling with rage, and calmly added, "I have a cleanliness issue. Anything touched by filthy things makes me sick."