NORA

“What are those?” I asked, confusion evident in my voice as I looked at Nadia, one of the long-time house helpers of the Hills family. Esmeralda and I were seated in the living room when a woman suddenly arrived, introducing herself as Amy, Asher’s secretary.

“Mrs. Bennett—” Amy said.

I lifted my gaze sharply, fixing her with a cold stare that immediately stopped her mid-sentence. The shift in my expression was enough to make her stiffen where she stood.

She cleared her throat, visibly nervous, before continuing. “Sir Asher instructed me to come here and assist you in choosing from these clothes. The stylist and a representative from the jewelry store will also be arriving later, so you can select the accessories you’ll be wearing tonight for Mr. Taylor’s birthday party.”

“I don’t need any of those. You may leave now,” I replied coolly, without even sparing the dresses a second glance.

Both Nadia and Amy froze at my words.

“B-But… Mrs. Bennett,” Amy said hesitantly, her voice trembling. “Sir Asher specifically told me to take care of everything for you. If I fail to do this, I might lose my job—”

“Why should I care?” I cut her off, one eyebrow arching sharply. “Do I look like someone who concerns herself with the fate of a person I have nothing to do with?” I added bluntly, my tone firm and unyielding.

Amy’s face paled instantly. She lowered her head slightly, her hands clenching at her sides as she struggled to keep her composure.

“Don’t call me that,” I continued coldly. “I am divorcing your employer. Address me properly—as Ms. Hills.”

“I-I’m sorry… Ms. H-Hills,” she quickly corrected herself, nodding repeatedly.

“Nora, dear,” Esmeralda interjected gently, clearly trying to ease the tension. “She’s only doing her job.”

“I know that, Mom,” I replied, finally turning my gaze away from Amy. “But if every employee Asher sends my way thinks they can use guilt or pity to manipulate me, does that mean I should spend the rest of my life being obedient and accommodating at my own expense?”

“That’s not what I meant…” Esmeralda said softly.

I took a deep breath before looking back at Amy, meeting her eyes directly. “I have nothing personal against you. But I refuse to be considerate toward others if it comes at the cost of my own peace. Tell your employer this: I will not attend the party with him. And more importantly, unless it concerns our divorce, I do not want to be contacted again.”

Amy paused for a moment, then slowly nodded. I could see understanding, perhaps even respect, in her eyes.

“I will relay everything to Mr. Bennett, Ms. Hills,” she said quietly.

“Thank you. You may go now.”

I motioned for Nadia to hand the clothes back to Amy. Without another word, Amy turned around and left.

Esmeralda and I were left alone in the living room. She stared at me intently, a mix of curiosity, concern, and quiet contemplation written all over her face. I merely shrugged and chose not to explain myself.

In nearly a month of living under the same roof, I had come to realize just how kind Rod and Esmeralda truly were. That was precisely why I didn’t want to hurt them. Why I tried to draw the line carefully, even when it involved Asher.

Four hours before the party, Esmeralda came to my room. I had already agreed to attend Mr. Taylor’s birthday celebration, not for Asher’s sake, but for my own.

Several gowns were neatly arranged on the rack. Esmeralda had personally ordered them, thoughtfully selecting each piece.

I had never been fond of gowns. But now, as Emily Hills, adaptation was inevitable. I reached for a black gown.

“Are you sure about that one, dear?” Esmeralda asked, studying both me and the dress in my hands.

“Yes,” I answered without hesitation.

“You don’t like the light blue or the soft pink anymore?”

I shook my head lightly. “I want something different this time. Sometimes, change is necessary… sometimes, you have to explore.”

And in that quiet moment, I almost smiled to myself.

Because it wasn’t just the color of the dress that was changing.

It was me.

“It’s a good thing you’ve finally realized that now,” Esmeralda said gently. “I’ve been telling you this for a long time. I wanted you to try something different, but you always chose to prioritize Asher’s happiness over your own.”

“Not anymore, Mom,” I replied firmly. “From now on, everything I do will be for myself.”

Esmeralda studied me closely, her gaze lingering as if she were trying to confirm whether what she was hearing was real. There was disbelief in her eyes, perhaps even surprise. Maybe Emily and I truly were complete opposites after all.

Even at the company, I had started noticing the strange looks the employees gave me. There was a certain hesitation, a quiet confusion, every time I spoke. Even the executives seemed taken aback, as though they were seeing a version of me they had never encountered before.

After that, Esmeralda left me alone in my room, and I began preparing myself. When it came to makeup, I wasn’t entirely clueless. I knew how to apply it—just enough.

A light application was more than sufficient. I wasn’t attending the party to be the most beautiful woman in the room. I was going there to meet people, to connect with other businessmen and influential figures. I needed and wanted to expand my network.

Once I was finished and satisfied with my appearance, I stepped out of my room. In the living area, I found Esmeralda and Rod together, waiting for me.

“Wow! You’re so beautiful, dear!” Esmeralda exclaimed, her eyes practically sparkling as she looked at me. Damn, why does she always have that endearment for me?

“She’s right,” Rod added. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen you wear a gown in that color.”

“You’d better get used to it,” I said calmly, a faint smile playing on my lips. “This is who I am now. The old me is dead, so please welcome the new Emily Hills.”

The couple fell silent for a moment, clearly taken aback. But it didn’t take long before I saw approval reflected in their expressions.

“If that’s the case,” Rod said warmly, “your mother and I are looking forward to seeing more of this side of you.”

“Be ready, Dad,” I replied confidently. “You’re about to witness how your dear daughter swallows everyone who ever stepped on me and our family.”

I meant every word. Anyone who had once belittled the old Emily would pay dearly.

The only regret was not knowing who those people were.

I wanted to find out. I wanted to investigate everything that had happened. But I didn’t want to appear too eager, too desperate for answers. Afraid that someone might notice my unusual interest and grow suspicious.

I couldn’t understand why I didn’t possess even a single memory of Emily’s past.

Was that really how it worked?

Because I was now occupying her body, did that mean I had no access to her memories at all?

If so, would consulting a doctor even help?

“Emily, dear.”

I looked up to find Esmeralda staring at me with concern. “What are you thinking about?”

I smiled before answering. “Nothing. I was just wondering what I might encounter at the party.”

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” Rod assured me. “Matt will be there. If there’s anything you want to ask, especially about the people you’ll meet, he’ll be the one who can give you answers.”

“In that case, I should get going,” I said with a smile. “I don’t want to be late. I want to see every single person who arrives at the party.”

“All right. Take care,” Esmeralda said as she stepped closer, kissing my cheek before pulling me into a warm embrace. I hugged her back—then Rod as well. After all, as Emily Hills, they were my parents now.

I turned away and walked out of the house toward the waiting car. Biboy, my driver, was already there.

Once he closed the door behind me, he circled around to the driver’s seat and started the engine.

As the car moved, my thoughts drifted once more.

I wanted to move to a different place, somewhere I could do the things I wanted without restriction, and begin executing my plans.

Somewhere I could finally introduce myself to Dante…

as the new Nora Dumont.

 ASHER

As I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the cuffs of my suit, Amy’s words echoed relentlessly in my mind. My secretary’s voice—calm, professional, yet hesitant kept replaying, refusing to fade even as I forced myself to focus on my reflection.

I had sent her to the Hills residence earlier today. The instruction was simple, almost harmless: deliver everything Emily would need for Mr. Taylor’s birthday party. Dresses. Jewelry. A quiet reminder that… I was still her husband.

But Emily had refused.

“Unless it was about our divorce, don’t bother coming to me.”

That was exactly what she said. No raised voice. No unnecessary drama. Just a straightforward statement—clean, precise, and far more painful than any slap could ever be.

My jaw tightened as the memory resurfaced. I never imagined Emily was capable of that kind of firmness. For years, I had known her as calm and rational, someone who always chose her words carefully. She had never been cruel with her honesty. Never sharp. Never deliberately hurtful. She's the most sensible woman I know.

Until that day.

Until the hospital incident.

She had been furious. Her eyes—once filled with patience and understanding were now blazing with anger and disappointment. She didn’t look like Emily at all. Or perhaps… this was the first time I was truly seeing her.

I took a deep breath and stared at my reflection again. My suit was flawless. No wrinkles. No cracks in the armor. No visible signs of weakness.

I needed to look good.

I needed to look whole.

I knew Emily would attend Mr. Taylor’s birthday party. Whether it was because of her family or out of obligation, I was certain she would be there, standing proudly as the new CEO of Hills Pharma. And if our paths crossed tonight, I wanted her to see one thing clearly: I was determined to bring her back to my side.

I walked toward the door, but before I could leave the room, I stopped.

My gaze drifted toward the bed.

Our bed.

Three years. For three long years, we slept side by side on that mattress—together, yet always separated by an invisible distance.

Why?

Because of me, I chose to give her the cold shoulder, driven by the belief that I was a failure.

Because I convinced myself that people saw me as a weak man—someone who needed a woman to succeed.

I shook my head, refusing to dwell on it any longer. Turning my back on the memories, I walked out of the room, down the stairs, and out of the house toward the waiting car.

When I arrived at the hotel where Mr. Taylor’s birthday party was being held, my eyes immediately scanned the room. Familiar faces. Polite smiles laced with calculation. Hands eager to shake as long as there was something to gain.

But there was only one person I was searching for.

Emily.

A frown creased my face when I failed to find her. My chest tightened, my heartbeat quickening—whether from anxiety or irritation, I couldn’t tell. I was about to head toward an empty table when a voice suddenly called out.

“Ash!”

I stopped. I knew that voice.

Turning around, I wasn’t surprised at all.

“Corrine,” I said as she approached, giving her a brief nod. “You’re here, too.”

My tone was neutral. Not cold, but not warm either. Just enough to avoid rudeness, yet clear enough to establish distance.

She smiled, as if she hadn’t noticed anything unusual about my reaction. Or perhaps she simply chose to ignore it.

“Your mom told me to come,” she said, stepping a little closer. “To accompany you.”

I nodded slightly, though something inside me sank. I knew I didn’t need her—more importantly, she wasn’t the person I wanted beside me tonight.

And yet, no matter how much I wanted to push her away, I couldn’t. I owed Corrine something, a debt I couldn’t simply erase. I always owe something to a woman. Emily and then her.

When my sister, Alisson, was in an accident, Corrine was one of the first people on the scene. It was a night filled with sirens, blood, and terror—a night when I thought I was about to lose the only sibling I had.

Alisson had been involved in a severe car crash. There were countless injured victims. Blood everywhere. The hospital ran dangerously low on supplies, and the doctors were close to giving up. There wasn’t enough blood. There wasn’t enough time.

And that was when Corrine stepped in.

She had been a patient herself—bruised, scratched, but only mildly injured. Capable of donating, the doctor had said. And she didn’t hesitate.

No questions. No complaints.

At that moment, she saved my sister’s life.

Even now, even with a part of me wanting to push her away, I can’t bring myself to be rude to Corrine. I can’t ignore the debt I owe her, not when that debt was paid in blood and fear and a life that could have been lost. Even if the price I pay is the uneasy silence of my own conscience.

Corrine and I walked side by side toward the table. Naturally, she slipped her hand around my arm, a gesture familiar to the eyes of others, something that looked effortless, almost expected. I didn’t pull away. I let her hold on, even though I knew it was wrong, even though I knew someone else would be hurt the moment they saw us like this.

Every step felt heavy, as if I were walking toward something inevitable, or running away from something I feared would finally happen.

And before we even reached the table, I noticed something strange.

Whispers.

Soft at first, barely more than a breeze slipping between conversations. But slowly, they grew clearer. Louder. More synchronized. As if the entire room had been waiting for the same scene to unfold.

I looked around.

Almost every guest had turned their attention in a single direction.

Something slammed hard against my chest.

Slowly, I followed their gaze.

And that was when I saw her.

Emily.

She was walking toward us.

Not rushing. Not hesitating either. Each step was quiet, controlled—yet powerful enough to silence the entire function room. People instinctively stepped aside, creating space for her as she passed, as if the crowd itself recognized her presence and yielded.

She was beautiful.

Not because of what she was wearing—but because of what she carried. There was strength in her aura. A distance I could no longer cross so easily.

At that moment, my hand went cold.

I didn’t know when it started, but it was unmistakable—something about her had truly changed.

Not just her posture.

Not just her appearance.

But her very presence.

She wore a black off-shoulder gown, perfectly fitted to her body, as if deliberately revealing the curves she once tried so hard to hide. Elegant, yet dangerous. Never vulgar, but far from innocent. Every step felt like a warning rather than an invitation.

Her hair was tied up, exposing her neck—and that was when I noticed the earrings and necklace glinting beneath the lights. Clearly expensive. Not flashy. Just refined. The kind of elegance that never begs for attention because it commands it effortlessly.

I swallowed hard.

I’ve never seen her wear black.

She always chose light blue. Soft colors. Gentle shades. I loved that about her—or at least, I thought I did. Only now did it occur to me… maybe she wore those colors because she knew I liked them.

But now—

She was different.

The Emily I used to know—easy to approach, easy to talk to, and easy to read was gone. The woman walking toward us now was fearless, unyielding, and looked ready to defend herself against anyone who dared cross her path.

Especially me.

She looked fierce.

Strong.

Like someone you’d have to think twice about approaching because you’d never know whether she’d welcome you… or shut you out completely.

And once again—

I was seeing her differently.

“Is that Emily?” Corrine asked, shock unmistakable in her voice.

I didn’t answer.

All my attention was locked onto the woman walking toward me, the wife I felt like I was meeting for the first time all over again.

Emily’s gaze swept over me.

Just for a second.

But it was enough for our eyes to meet.

I saw her brow tighten slightly, followed by a smirk. Not a smile. Not anger either. An expression that said she knew something… and I was the punchline.

As if she were laughing at me.

My jaw hardened.

I didn’t like that.

I couldn’t accept being reduced to someone she could dismiss so easily—someone she could look at once, mock silently, and walk away from without regret.

Before I could think better of it, my body moved on its own.

I walked toward her.

My steps were fast—too fast. I forgot that Corrine was still holding onto my arm. I nearly dragged her along as I rushed after Emily, but I didn’t care anymore.

At that moment, only one thing was clear in my mind—

I would not allow things to end like this.

I would not allow her to look at me as if I were nothing more than a stranger with no value left in her life.

And even though I still didn’t know what I was going to say—

I was certain of one thing.

I will not let this end between us.

I will never—ever—divorce her in this lifetime.

NORA

Our eyes collided, and I immediately noticed how fast Asher was walking toward me—too fast, as if the world around him had stopped mattering. Corrine trailed behind him, clearly struggling to keep up with the length and urgency of his strides.

A smirk curved my lips.

My brow lifted when I saw how he was almost dragging her along, holding onto him like an accessory she refused to let go of—yet one that clearly got in the way.

So this is how you play now, Asher.

“Emily—”

I raised my hand instantly, my palm facing him—a clear, unmistakable command to stop. I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t need to.

“Are you going to talk about our divorce?” I asked calmly, my tone bordering on bored indifference.

“No.”

“Then stay out of my sight.”

Simple. Clean. Emotionless.

I turned away, fully prepared to walk off—but before I could even take a single step, his hand closed around my arm, stopping me cold and forcing me to face him again.

My brow furrowed.

If I were still in my old body—if I were still Nora Dumont in flesh and bone—this man would already be on the floor. But Emily’s body? Still weak. Still recovering. I was only beginning to train again, to rebuild muscle memory, to follow a controlled diet.

Self-control, Nora.

“Emily, you’re my wife,” he said firmly. “We will never get a divorce. I won’t agree to it.”

The restraint was obvious. A vein stood out along his neck. His jaw was locked so tight it looked like one wrong word from me would unleash something ugly.

I smiled.

Slow. Dangerous.

“Watch me make you.”

Then I struck his hand away from my arm—not hard, not violent, just precise. Enough to make him let go.

I turned fully and walked away, heading straight toward the direction my feet had been itching to take from the very beginning.

I crossed the opposite side of the function hall, deliberately passing the exact spot where Asher and Corrine had been standing before they approached me. I didn’t look back. I didn’t need to. I could feel the weight of their gazes burning into my back.

My eyes were locked onto the man sitting quietly in the corner.

Tsk.

He was far too obvious.

Relaxed posture, but sharp eyes. Minimal movement, perfect timing. Clearly trained.

I was close when he suddenly looked my way.

Our gazes met.

Casually, I lifted my hand toward my chest and made a subtle gesture with my fingers—small, almost imperceptible to anyone else.

To my two o’clock. Enemy.

That's what the sign means.

His brows furrowed.

I could tell he was confused. Naturally. As Nora Dumont, only two people knew that signal—me and my right-hand man.

Him.

Dante Montecarlo.

He stood up, intending to approach me—but before he could take even a single step, someone grabbed me and twisted me back around.

“Damn it!” I cursed when I found myself face-to-face with Asher again.

Perfect timing. As always.

“We need to talk,” he said, his tone firm and unyielding.

From the corner of my vision, I saw Dante stop. He didn’t move closer—not while Asher was here. Smart. He knew when to pull back.

“Why don’t you try talking to Asher properly so you can clear up this misunderstanding between you?” a soft voice suggested.

My eyes narrowed.

That line came from Corrine.

Her voice was low. Gentle. The kind that sounded harmless, almost fragile. But I knew her type far too well.

Was this her way of staying relevant? Of making Asher feel like she was the “understanding” one, while I played the role of the problem?

“Oh, spare me your unsolicited advice,” I said coldly, raising a brow. “I don’t need it from someone who wants my company.”

“What do you mean?” Asher asked, genuinely confused, completely missing the subtext.

I smirked.

“Why don’t you ask her?” I replied before turning away again.

Damn it. When will these two finally leave me alone?

“Emily,” Corrine called—and before I could evade her completely, she grabbed my arm.

I reacted instinctively, jerking my arm free.

Not forcefully.

Not intentionally.

But in the very next second—

She was on the floor.

Crying.

The room reacted instantly. Sharp gasps. Murmurs are spreading like wildfire. I could feel the air tighten, thicken with tension.

I looked down at her—sitting on the floor, clutching her arm, tears streaming freely, the picture of a helpless victim.

…Interesting.

It was my first time seeing just how skilled she really was.

If this was the game they wanted to play, then they had chosen the wrong opponent.

“Emily, you don’t need to push me…” Corrine sobbed as Asher helped her up.

“Why did you have to do that? She just wanted to talk to you,” Asher said. There was no anger in his voice—but the discomfort was unmistakable. Like words he didn’t truly want to say, yet felt forced to.

“What did I do to her?” I asked, looking straight at both of them.

“You pushed me,” Corrine said, now standing upright again, her hands once more wrapped around Asher’s arm.

I smiled and stepped slightly closer to her.

“I pushed you?” I repeated.

I noticed the fear flicker across Corrine’s face at my question—brief, but unmistakable. She was suddenly scared.

“I just want to talk,” she said quickly. “I just want to clear a few things up between Ash and me so you won’t misunderstand.”

Around us, the whispers grew louder. Eyes turned accusatory, judgmental—people looking at me as if they already knew the whole story.

As if they had already decided who the villain was.

But I chuckled softly, a sound laced with mockery rather than amusement.

“You didn’t want me to misunderstand,” I said calmly, my gaze flicking pointedly to her hands, “yet there you are—clinging to my husband.”

At that, Asher immediately pulled Corrine’s hands away from him, as if the contact had suddenly burned.

“Yes. Who wouldn’t misunderstand that?” an elderly woman to my right spoke up, her voice sharp with disapproval. “She keeps holding onto a man she knows very well is married.”

“What’s worse is Mr. Bennett himself,” another woman added from behind her. “Imagine this—he says he wants to talk to Mrs. Bennett, yet he still needs Ms. Williams standing right beside him? Why? If they are husband and wife, shouldn’t they be the only ones talking, without a third party interfering?”

Corrine glanced around, and I could see it in her eyes—the slow realization that the tide had turned. The whispers surrounding us were no longer in her favor.

“You said I pushed her?” I said coldly, turning my attention back to Asher. “Since you’re so eager to believe her, then sign the divorce papers.”

That was all.

I turned my back on them without another word. I had no more time to waste—because neither of them was my real objective tonight.

My eyes met Dante’s again across the room, just for a moment. But neither of us made a move to approach the other. I knew there would be another chance.

I could only hope that, as my right hand, he already knew what needed to be done in my absence.

I took a seat at an empty table and waited for the party to officially begin. I wasn’t one to attend events like this, but I supposed there was value in showing up every once in a while—especially when observation mattered more than celebration.

From where I sat, I noticed Asher taking a seat at a table next to mine. Corrine was still with him. I dismissed them completely, even when I could feel his gaze lingering on me.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a man’s voice rang out as he stepped onto the stage. Everyone turned toward him—including me. “Let us all welcome Mr. Henry Taylor, our birthday celebrant!”

The hall erupted in applause. I joined them a beat later, standing along with the rest of the guests, but my attention had already drifted elsewhere.

The man who had been positioned on the second floor earlier—the enemy of our organization—was gone.

So was Dante.

Did he take care of it?

My focus was no longer on the celebration. It shifted instead to the people around me, to movements and absences that mattered far more. I clapped when everyone else did, then slowly sat back down in time for Matt to arrive.

"I'm sorry for being late, Ms. Hills. I've caught up on some problems along the way." I raised my hand, making him quiet. He nodded and sat on the chair next to me.

“Is it settled?” I asked. Matt shook his head, lowering his gaze.

“Go and do what you need to do. I can take care of myself now.”

“Are you sure, Ma’am Emily? Sir Rod said,” I didn’t let him finish and spoke again.

“Who’s your boss now?”

“You are,” he replied.

“Then go. I can handle myself.”

He looked at me first, then gave a small nod and a smile. Matt stood up and excused himself. I could tell from his expression that he was still flustered, so it was better for him to sort that out first. Besides, I didn’t really need a guard—Asher and Corrine were the only ones who could truly get on my nerves.

“Emily, did you perhaps prepare a gift for Mr. Taylor?” Corrine asked sweetly.

Damn it. When will this woman finally stop?

I ignored her completely, keeping my eyes fixed on the stage where the birthday celebrant now stood with his family.

“She doesn’t need to bring anything,” Asher said instead. “I brought one. We’re husband and wife—so whatever I give represents both of us.”

My brow arched at his words. When I glanced at Corrine, I almost laughed at the look on her face.

“What?” I asked her coolly. “Did you not expect Asher to say that?”

“Ash, I thought—” she began, but I cut her off.

“You thought you were his date,” I said plainly. “So you didn’t need to prepare anything?”

Corrine’s hand curled into a fist at her side. Then suddenly, she smiled—a smile that immediately set off alarms in my head.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume,” she said softly. “Mrs. Bennett—your mother-in-law—told me not to bring anything. She said Ash already had it covered. She also said that whatever is his, I should consider mine as well.”

She was provoking me.

Deliberately.

She even raised her voice slightly, ensuring nearby guests could hear. Almost instantly, whispers erupted again.

“I see,” I said slowly, my lips curling into a sneer as I watched her cheeks flush red. “So much for wanting to clear things up between Asher and me. You imply ownership over whatever my husband owns. Hypocrite.”

“Emily! I didn’t mean it like that—” And there it was again. The tears. Instant. Like a waterfall on command.

“Stop it, Corrine,” Asher snapped. “You started this. And don’t believe anything my mother told you—she doesn’t get to decide for me.”

I was genuinely surprised when Asher suddenly grabbed my arm.

“Let’s go,” he said, already guiding me toward Mr. Taylor, who had stepped down from the stage and was now accepting gifts from guests.

“Corrine!” a cheerful female voice called out.

I glanced over and noticed the woman standing beside the elderly birthday celebrant. “Come here.”

Corrine quickly approached her and exchanged cheek kisses.

“Oh, let me introduce you,” the woman said enthusiastically. “This is Asher, CEO of the Bennett Group.”

That was all it took.

Corrine immediately pulled my husband—no, Emily’s husband—away.

I rolled my eyes. She made it look so easy.

Not that I expected anything from him anyway.

Just as the woman was about to formally introduce Asher and Corrine to Mr. Taylor, a deep baritone voice cut in.

“Henry.”

I felt a man stand beside me.

I looked up—and my brows furrowed sharply the moment I recognized him.

“Devon!” Mr. Taylor exclaimed, clearly pleased.

What was he doing here?

And why did it feel like this meeting wasn’t a coincidence at all?

Who exactly was he?