To settle a debt of gratitude, Adriana Adler left her first love and married Chris Slater—a man who, by all appearances, was paralyzed from the waist down.

For five years of marriage, he had been her husband. Before that, he'd been the protector she'd known since they were kids. She played her part as his devoted wife—the quiet shadow behind his wheelchair.

Chris was certain that no matter how openly he doted on his ex-fiancée—who had just returned from overseas with a child—Adriana would never leave him. What he didn't know was that in Adriana's heart, only obligation remained. The love had died years ago.

The day the truth came out, she set the divorce papers calmly in front of him.

He panicked. His eyes burned as he grabbed for her, desperate, clinging like she was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Adriana looked down at his legs—standing firm and strong—and felt a deep, icy quiet fill her chest.

Five years of lies. Five years stolen from the man she truly loved. There would be no forgiveness.

The once-untouchable Chris dropped to one knee, his eyes red-rimmed and raw. "Adriana… you're all I have left."

Her expression didn't waver. Not a flicker of softness crossed her face. She stepped back toward the man she'd never stopped loving, her voice steady.

"But you're not all I have, Chris."

He was the power player all of high society scrambled to please—the one who'd lit up her younger years. He'd always assumed she would love him forever; it never crossed his mind she might walk away.

But the poised, mixed-heritage gentleman who'd loved her all along said nothing. He simply slid a priceless diamond ring onto her finger.

This was the day he had waited five years for. This was the happiness Adriana should have had all along.

"If you want to reconcile with her and start over, I can step aside and make it happen."

Adriana Adler clenched her fists tightly, long lashes lowered as she looked at the man in the wheelchair.

At her words, the gloom in Chris Slater's eyes instantly froze over, a thin layer of ice forming—cold enough to chill the air.

"Do you regret marrying me?" he asked.

She answered without hesitation. "No. Grandma Rosie raised me. I owed her my life."

"So you married me out of gratitude? Out of pity?"

Chris lifted his gaze, sharp and piercing, his handsome face dark with suppressed anger. Though he was seated in a wheelchair, the pressure radiating from him was overwhelming.

Under his stare, Adriana's heart fluttered uneasily. She bit her lip and lowered her head.

Five years ago, a car accident had left Chris paralyzed in both legs. At the time, he had a fiancée. She had a boyfriend of her own.

After Chris's fiancée annulled the engagement, Grandma Rosie—terminally ill—knelt before Adriana and begged her to marry him.

Adriana had no choice. When she was eight, both her parents died. It was Grandma Rosie—her parents' mentor—who found her wandering the streets and took her in, giving her a home.

After the wedding, Grandma Rosie passed away in peace.

Agreeing to the marriage had indeed been an act of repayment. But over five years of living together, Adriana had grown used to Chris's presence—so used to it that dependence quietly took root.

He was her only family in this world. Her only tie.

She had once thought that spending her life this way wouldn't be so bad… until a week ago.

Chris's former fiancée, Joan Hill, returned to the country—bringing with her a little boy just over four years old.

The boy had the Slater family's unmistakable traits: pale skin, deep-set eyes, and rosy, thin lips. Chubby as he was, his bearing was uncannily similar to the Slater brothers'.

Dean Slater, Chris's eldest brother, had been married for eight years and shared a loving relationship with his wife. There was no chance he had cheated with his younger brother's fiancée.

That meant only one thing.

The child had to be Chris's.

"What about that child?" Adriana asked.

"I'll handle it," Chris replied.

Clearly unwilling to continue the discussion, he turned toward the housekeeper, Heidi Ebanks, who stood at the entryway.

"What is it?"

"Miss Hill and the child are here."

Heidi had already been inside for half a minute. Sensing the tense atmosphere, she hadn't dared interrupt.

Chris's brows relaxed, his expression softening.

"Chris!"

As soon as Heidi finished speaking, a small figure darted in from outside and flung himself into Chris's arms, nearly knocking Heidi over.

"Edward, mind your manners," Joan said as she followed in, smiling indulgently. Her gaze clung to Chris, brimming with tenderness. "Chris, thank you for taking us in."

Jimmy Barton, the Slater family driver, carried in two large suitcases. Chris instructed him to take them to the room on the left on the third floor.

Adriana frowned slightly. No one had told her that Joan and her son were coming.

So this was Chris's "arrangement"—moving them into the house without even discussing it with her?

She opened her mouth to speak. The third floor was where she and Chris lived; guests always stayed on the second.

In the end, she said nothing.

Chris was already deep in conversation with Joan and the boy, as if Adriana didn't exist.

The three of them looked more like a family. Standing there, she seemed like the outsider.

She turned to leave. After just two steps, Chris called out to her.

"Adriana, go prepare the room and make sure Joanie and Edward are comfortable."

Joanie. They must be really close.

Adriana stopped short. "I'm tired. I'm going to shower and sleep."

She took care of Chris because of her promise to Grandma Rosie. But serving Joan and her son—how was that any different from being a maid?

Besides, since when did the lady of the house make the bed for an intruder?

"It's fine. Heidi can handle it," Joan said lightly.

She took out a jewelry box and generously handed it to Heidi.

"Heidi, this is a niche brand I brought back from overseas. It's for you."

Heidi recoiled as if she'd seen a ghost, waving her hands repeatedly. "No, no, no—this is my job."

Before Joan could say another word, Heidi took the stairs three at a time toward the third floor, forgetting entirely that there was an elevator.

Joan awkwardly withdrew her hand. "Chris, it seems Edward and I aren't very welcome."

Chris replied gently, "Nonsense! Adriana has always cared about you and Edward."

Adriana pretended not to hear and walked toward the elevator.

It wasn't her who cared. It was Chris.

Ever since Joan and her son returned, the usually cold and distant Chris seemed like a different person.

He took Joan everywhere, personally selecting gifts for her and Edward. One entire wall was filled with her handbags and jewelry; one whole room overflowed with the boy's toys.

He had never been this attentive to anyone before.

That was when Adriana knew—everything had changed.

"Ms. Adler, Chris said you've always wanted a child. You'll like Edward," Joan's voice came from behind.

Adriana didn't turn around.

"As long as Chris likes him," she said.

Then she stepped into the elevator.

So Chris had always known she wanted a child. She had never mentioned it, afraid it would burden him psychologically. He knew—and simply pretended not to.

As the glass elevator slowly ascended, under the bright lights, a softness and tenderness appeared in Chris's eyes—something Adriana had never once seen directed at her.

For five years, she had cared for him in every possible way, personally handling everything. Yet, he had never shown her even a trace of such concern.

Somewhere along the way, she had forgotten that she didn't have to live like this.

The elevator stopped on the third floor. Joan's voice drifted to her ears.

"Five years ago, my parents forced me to break off our engagement and sent me abroad. After I left, I found out I was pregnant with your child. He's our flesh and blood. I couldn't give him up."

Her voice choked with emotion. She crouched down, burying her head against Chris's knees, her body trembling.

Chris slowly raised a hand and rested it on her shoulder.

Joan looked up, tears filling her eyes, fragile and pitiful.

"I thought once Edward was older, my parents would accept him. But the moment I returned, they cut off my cards and threw us out. Chris, I wouldn't have come to trouble you if I had any other choice. I'm not afraid of hardship, but Edward is still so young…"

Chris brushed her cheek with his thumb, wiping away her tears.

"I'm here. Don't be afraid."

Standing by the third-floor railing, Adriana watched the scene, a chill spreading through her chest.

Her nails scraped unconsciously against the railing, nearly snapping.

"Madam, don't worry. I'll stand on your side," Heidi said softly, appearing beside her at some point, her eyes full of sympathy.

She had worked for the Slater family for over twenty years, first serving Madam Rosie. Before passing away, Rosie had instructed her to continue looking after Chris and Adriana.

Heidi had watched Adriana grow up and knew she was a kind, sensible child.

Adriana pressed her lips together and smiled faintly.

Chris wasn't an object. He was a living person.

If she had to compete with Joan for "ownership," that meant Chris had never truly belonged to her in the first place.

She had never had much sense of security.

If something wasn't entirely hers, she wouldn't want it. Better than clinging and worrying, only to suffer more in the end.

…

Late at night, just as Adriana was drifting into sleep, Chris pushed the door open.

He sat in his wheelchair, freshly showered and changed into pajamas.

The house had a bathroom specially designed for him, along with a deaf-mute male caregiver who attended to him.

Out of habit, Adriana got up and helped Chris onto the bed.

The wheelchair was a custom-made, high-tech model that could meet all his needs, but he preferred her care.

She lay down beside him, her chest heavy.

With no family of her own, she had always longed for deeper bonds. That was why she wanted one or two children.

Chris's injury affected only his legs; it didn't prevent him from being intimate as a husband.

She had hinted more than once, only to be turned down each time.

Eventually, she told herself it was his pride—that he couldn't accept losing control—and never brought it up again.

Tonight, from Joan's words, she finally learned the truth.

He had always known.

Just like now—he was watching coldly from the darkness as her unspoken longing burned, choosing to ignore it.

Lost in thought, she suddenly felt a hand grip her waist and pull her backward, drawing her into a warm, broad chest.

Chris held her tightly, his chin resting atop her head, gently rubbing against it.

"When Joan was pregnant, she was still my fiancée. I didn't cheat. She isn't a homewrecker. This situation put all of us in a difficult position.

"Edward is my son. As a man, I can't turn a blind eye. That's my responsibility.

"Come on, now. Don't be angry. They're only staying here. That's all."

On the eve of marrying Joan, there had been one night when he drank until he lost consciousness.

When he woke up, Joan was in his bed.

Just that once, and Edward was conceived.

Even now, he couldn't tell whether the emotion lodged in his chest was regret or guilt.

Adriana pushed his hand away and sat up in the darkness.

"Either we divorce," she said calmly, "or you give me a child."

This was the first time Adriana had made a firm demand of Chris. After a long silence, his low, hoarse voice sounded in the darkness.

"Wait a little longer—until my legs recover."

Her throat felt dry as she spoke, as if murmuring in a dream. "I don't mind doing the work myself."

She had already waited five years. She couldn't afford to wait another five.

Chris sat up and wrapped his arms around her from behind, his warm breath brushing against her neck.

"Adriana, there's plenty of time ahead. I want our first time to be perfect."

Adriana gave a bitter smile. She had known it would be like this.

Chris was too clever. With her, his injured legs were an absolute shield—an untouchable excuse.

He was certain she had no way to push him.

"What about Edward?" she asked. "Are you going to let him be an illegitimate child forever?"

She didn't like Joan, but the kid was innocent.

She had lost her parents at eight. During the half year she drifted between relatives' homes, she endured endless coldness and rejection. Later, she was brought to the Slater family estate and raised by Grandma Rosie. From then on, her life was comfortable and well provided for.

Even so, she still missed her parents and longed for a family of her own.

The man behind her loosened his hold and slowly lay back down. He said nothing for a long time.

The thick darkness was like a swamp, swallowing them both.

Adriana remained motionless. "Let's get a divorce, Chris. That way, you can have a complete family."

She wasn't incapable of leaving him. Perhaps, deep down in the darkest corner of her heart, a voice had already been screaming for her to go.

By Chris's side, she played the role of the perfect wife, living a life that no longer felt like Adriana's own.

After the divorce, she could still fulfill her promise to Grandma Rosie—as family.

A cold laugh came from behind her, frost spreading through the room.

"Adriana, who gave you the right to arrange my life? Remember this—only a home with you in it is the home I want."

His tone grew calm, yet a chill crept up her spine.

It felt as though a wild beast lurked in the dark, staring at her with naked possessiveness, claiming her as its own.

This Chris felt terrifyingly unfamiliar.

"Chris!"

Joan's anxious voice suddenly rang out from outside the door, startling Adriana.

For the first time, she was glad to hear Joan's voice.

"Joan, what is it?" Chris asked hoarsely, faintly suggestive.

"It's nothing. Sorry for disturbing you," Joan said, choking back tears.

Footsteps hurried away outside. Chris quickly settled back into his wheelchair.

He pushed open the door at the other end of the hallway. Edward was curled up in Joan's arms, both of them crying, their faces streaked with tears.

"What happened?"

"Edward had a nightmare. He kept calling for his dad."

Joan turned her face away, avoiding his gaze.

Chris took Edward from her arms. "Edward, I'm here."

"The monster was chasing me. I called for Daddy to save me, but I don't have a dad…" Edward clutched his clothes, crying heartbrokenly.

"I'm sorry. I panicked—I didn't know you were…" Joan said, glancing sideways at Chris, her eyes full of grievance.

Guilt rose unbidden in Chris's chest. On impulse, he whispered, "Joan, you're the only woman I've ever been with."

A flash of joy passed through Joan's eyes, vanishing just as quickly. After the surprise faded, only sadness remained.

She tilted her head back, raised a hand to wipe away her tears, and exhaled slowly. One strap of her camisole slid down with the movement.

"Chris, I didn't move into this house to break you and Adriana apart."

Chris lowered his gaze. Edward had already fallen asleep in his arms.

"Don't worry. I won't let you or Edward suffer."

"I believe you," Joan said.

She leaned forward to take Edward back. Her loose nightdress barely concealed her curves.

"You should go back," she said softly. "Don't let Adriana wait too long."

Chris's eyes stayed on Edward's face. "All right. Call me if anything happens."

Unexpectedly, Edward's hand clutched his clothes tightly, whimpering at the slightest movement.

"I'll wake him up," Joan said.

"No need." Chris stopped her and moved closer to the bed. "I'll sleep next to him."

Joan hesitated. "But Edward is used to my scent. If I'm not here, he won't sleep well."

"You don't have to leave," Chris said flatly.

"What if Adriana misunderstands?"

"She's always been sensible and considerate. She'll understand."

As he said this, a faint smile flickered in his eyes.

Chris hadn't returned for a long time. As Adriana debated whether to go check on him, those same words came to mind: Sensible and considerate.

From childhood to adulthood, "sensible and considerate" had been a label welded onto her. Everyone in the Slater family described her that way.

What they didn't know was that, as an orphan living under others' roofs, failing to be sensible meant being ungrateful.

And tonight, sensible and considerate as she was, she still couldn't tear that label off.

She chose to close her door and retreat into her small, solitary world.

She dreamed all night—of her parents beckoning to her, of Grandma Rosie questioning why she hadn't kept her promise, of attending Chris and Joan's wedding… and of a pair of deep blue eyes.

When she woke in the morning, her head felt heavy, as if stuffed with too many thoughts.

Only Chris was in the dining room. Joan and Edward hadn't gotten up yet.

Adriana sat across from him, eating breakfast in silence.

He handed her a glass of warm milk. "About last night—"

"I'm going out to look for a job," she said.

She didn't want to dwell on the night before and decided to state her intentions outright.

She had married Chris shortly after graduating from college and had never worked a day in her life.

In truth, she only needed to stay by his side when he was home. During weekday mornings and afternoons, her time belonged to her alone.

More importantly, she hadn't given up on the idea of divorce.

If Joan played her cards well, Chris might eventually bring it up himself.

A tree dies if it's uprooted, but a person can flourish in a new environment. Whether or not the divorce went smoothly, she wasn't going to stay home and compete with Joan.

Chris froze for a moment, then rejected it flatly. "No."

Driven by some twisted instinct, he subconsciously resisted letting Adriana leave his sight.

She didn't back down. "Then have Joan take her son and move out. I don't want to see them."

Chris frowned. "Adriana, is this your delayed teenage rebellion?"

From childhood to now, she had never once defied him.

Adriana set down her utensils, wiped her mouth, and lifted her clear, steady eyes.

"Chris, please respect me."

Seeing the stubborn resolve on her face, he reluctantly gave in. "Fine. I'll arrange a position for you at my company."

She had never worked before, was soft-hearted, and too trusting. He didn't believe she could survive in the workplace.

Let her taste hardship, he thought. Once she'd had enough of the real world, she would naturally come back.

"No need. I already have an interview scheduled."

Adriana had never planned to work at Chris's company. She was leaving—not running toward him.

Chris seemed to care about her, but the moment he couldn't let go of Joan and her son, he had already made his choice.

Irritated, Chris tossed his fork into the plate. Adriana ignored him, put on her heels, and walked out.

Appeasing him was no longer her responsibility. That was now Joan's role.

Chris rubbed his brow and called his assistant.

"Notify all the companies," he said coldly. "No one is allowed to hire Adriana."

When Adriana arrived at the interview site, her nerves tightened despite herself.

The Sanctity Group had numerous subsidiaries. The position she was interviewing for was in bio-intelligent machinery—the group's core business.

Although she had kept up with the field since graduating, continued studying on her own, and even published papers in international journals, she ultimately lacked real work experience.

Five years of staying home to care for Chris had left her almost completely disconnected from society.

If it weren't for her best friend, Bella Moss, pulling strings for her, she wouldn't even have landed the interview.

During the interview, the interviewer skimmed her résumé and asked several technical questions. Adriana felt she answered them fairly well, yet the man's expression never shifted from mild indifference.

"Miss Adler, there's no doubt your professional foundation is excellent," he said calmly. "But with a five-year gap and zero work experience, I'm afraid you don't meet our position requirements. We're recruiting high-end talent."

"Could you give me a chance?" Adriana pressed. "Just one month of probation. I don't even need a salary during that time."

She didn't want to give up so easily. From a long-term career perspective, Sanctity was unquestionably her best option.

"Miss Adler, there are plenty of people who want to intern here for free," the interviewer replied. "Your overall profile isn't more competitive than theirs."

He set her résumé aside. In his eyes, the young woman in front of him was nothing more than a book-smart ornamental piece—far from meeting Sanctity's standards.

"I still have work to attend to. You may go."

Watching his unfeeling retreating figure, Adriana shrugged helplessly and picked up her résumé.

She felt a twinge of disappointment, but she wasn't discouraged.

Sanctity was an industry giant. It was normal not to get in.

Bella had told her—start with the best companies. If you're rejected, then lower your sights.

[Bella, Sanctity turned me down. Boohoohoo…]

She sent the message to Bella in the elevator. As she stepped out with her head lowered, the corner of her eye caught a flash of striking golden-brown hair in the adjacent VIP elevator.

She instinctively looked over, but the doors had already closed.

She dismissed it as her imagination and walked on absentmindedly, not even noticing when her résumé slipped from her hand and fell to the floor.

By the time she realized and went back to look for it, it was gone.

When she returned home, she wondered if she had walked into the wrong place.

The floor was piled with toys, the décor completely transformed. Several of Joan's paintings hung on the walls. The minimalist style had been replaced by something flamboyantly artistic.

It no longer felt like a home—more like a niche daycare run by some eccentric curator.

Chris, who should have been at the office, was sitting with Edward, building blocks together. Joan was hanging a brightly colored oil painting on the wall.

Adriana froze for a moment. Perhaps this was what a home truly looked like—filled with traces left by its occupants, not meticulously arranged like a model house.

She stepped around the pile of toys and hurried toward the study, planning to reprint her résumé and prepare for the next interview.

"Well? Did the job hunt fail?"

Chris looked up at her, a teasing smile on his lips, as though he had already expected the outcome.

"Failing once doesn't mean anything," Adriana replied stubbornly, her tone betraying no sadness.

"I had my assistant arrange a light position for you," Chris said. "Come to the company with me tomorrow."

"No need. I'll find a job on my own."

Chris dropped the block in his hand, his expression darkening. "Adriana, you can rely on me completely."

"Chris," Joan chided softly as she sat down beside him, naturally holding onto his arm. "Adriana isn't a child. She has the right to choose."

She turned to Adriana with a gentle smile. "Adriana, if you ever need help, just say the word. I have plenty of friends who run companies."

Joan no longer addressed her as "Miss Adler," but instead mimicked Chris's tone, calling her "Adriana" at every turn.

Adriana's gaze fell on the oil painting—Joan holding Edward as a swaddled infant.

Mother and son hung there openly, bold and dazzling.

"Then you can find a job for yourself," Adriana said coldly, "instead of living in someone else's house."

Her tone was sharp. Joan's face immediately turned an ugly shade.

"Adriana, I don't want to hear comments like that again," Chris said. His voice wasn't harsh, but the reprimand was unmistakable.

Adriana tightened her grip on her handbag strap. Self-mockery flickered in her eyes as a tide of bitterness surged in her chest.

Just then, Heidi came in through the back corridor, breaking the awkward tension in the living room.

"Madam, where should I put those flowers?"

Adriana followed her gesture toward the garden. The lawn was crowded with flowerpots of all sizes.

"Weren't they always kept in the greenhouse?" she asked. "Why move them out?"

Heidi glanced at Joan, her face dark, and said nothing.

"Joan wants an art studio," Chris said. "The glass room has the best lighting."

As soon as he finished speaking, Joan let out an exaggerated cry.

"Oh! I only mentioned that the glass room had great light. I didn't know it was your greenhouse. Should I give it back to you?"

She sighed lightly. "It's all Chris's fault—he didn't explain it clearly and just turned it into my studio."

Chris replied calmly, "Those flowers can be kept outdoors. At most, we'll build a few more flower racks."

"Forget it," Adriana said to Heidi. "Give them away. I don't want them anymore."

She had thought she was long past living under someone else's roof. Only now did she realize she wasn't.

In the Slater family, she was just like those flowers—unable to even hold onto a greenhouse, only allowed to stay obediently where she was placed.

"How could that be?" Heidi protested. "Those flowers were all tended so carefully by you, Madam."

"I'll be working from now on," Adriana said. "I won't have time to take care of them."

Even Heidi knew how much those flowers meant to her. Yet Chris hadn't cared at all.

If not for Joan's appearance, Adriana wouldn't have realized how worthless her life over the past five years had been.

She strode into the elevator, forcing herself not to look back.

But the elevator had glass walls. In the reflection, she saw the flowers scattered across the lawn.

Chris withdrew his gaze from the elevator and instructed Heidi, "Keep them for now. Have someone build some nice flower racks and hire a professional gardener to take care of them."

He had seen the reluctance and resentment in Adriana's eyes and couldn't help lowering his head with a faint smile.

That once-obedient little girl now dared to sulk with him.

Just a few pots of flowers—hardly worth getting upset over.

…

Sitting in front of her computer, Adriana couldn't focus. Her mind kept drifting back to that distant figure from long ago.

She had intended to revise her résumé, but before she realized it, she was sketching on an A4 sheet instead.

Golden-brown tousled hair. Clear blue eyes. The face of a young man gradually formed on the sheet.

"Zzz—"

A sudden jet of water shot in from the doorway, splashing onto the keyboard and soaking the drawing.

Adriana hurriedly shut down the computer and shoved the paper under a few books.

Edward burst in, brandishing a water gun. "Pew pew pew! I'm going to shoot you dead!"

Water sprayed everywhere, drenching documents, books, and Adriana's clothes.

"You can't play in here," she said, trying to stop him.

"I want to!" Edward shouted, lifting the water gun and spraying straight at her eyes.

Adriana dodged, grabbed his collar, snatched the water gun away, and tossed it into the trash.

Edward opened his mouth and wailed. "Waaah! You're a bad person! I'm going to kill you!"

Her head felt like it was about to explode from the noise. She stiffened her face and warned him sternly, "No water guns inside the house. Do you understand?"

"This is my house! I'll play if I want! Waaaah!" Edward kicked wildly, lashing out at her.

Adriana dragged him toward the door. Suddenly, he clamped down on the back of her hand and bit her hard.

She sucked in a sharp breath and loosened her grip.

Unsteady on his feet, Edward fell to the floor the moment she let go.

"Waaah!" He sprawled on the ground, rolling and crying.

The noise carried downstairs. Joan rushed up and scooped him into her arms.

"Edward, what happened?"

He cried even louder. "She pushed me! My head hurts so much…"

"What's going on?" Chris frowned as he looked at Adriana's pale face. His gaze dropped to her hand, where faint traces of blood were visible.

Before he could look more closely, Joan stepped in front of him.

"Chris, we need to take Edward to the hospital."

"Let's go." Chris took the crying Edward into his arms, and the three of them went downstairs.

The cries quickly faded. Adriana stared at the blood and bite marks on her hand, tears welling from the pain.

Heidi turned pale at the sight. "Oh my goodness! Shouldn't you get a rabies shot for this?"

Adriana laughed despite herself. If she divorced, she wondered whether Heidi could come with her.

"It's fine. Have Damien help me clean the wound."

Heidi muttered unhappily, "Honestly, sir didn't even think to take Madam along to the hospital."

To say she didn't care would be a lie. A quiet loneliness settled in Adriana's heart.

It wasn't about love. It was the loneliness of realizing she was about to lose another home.

She didn't have much. Chris was one of the few things she had thought she could count as hers.

He was the one she grew up with, the husband she'd been married to for five years, and—aside from that person—the most important presence in her life.

That faint desolation was quickly washed away by joy.

As her wound was being bandaged, a new email popped up on her phone.

[Dear Adriana Adler,

Congratulations on being hired by our company. Please report to the Human Resources Department tomorrow before 10:00 a.m.]

The sender was the Human Resources Department of the Sanctity Group.