After work, Adriana met her best friend, Bella, for dinner.

They hadn't seen each other in half a month and had plenty to talk about.

"So you've really made up your mind to divorce Chris?" Bella asked.

She'd grown up with Adriana and knew everything about her.

"Joan and her son have already moved into the house," Adriana replied. "If I don't divorce him now, what am I supposed to be in that home?"

Bella snorted. "Be the kid's aunt?"

Seeing Adriana about to lose her temper, she immediately backed down.

"Divorcing him is the right call. You should've done it long ago. What kind of decent marriage lasts five years, and the husband won't touch the wife?

"Even the woman next door, whose husband is in a vegetative state, is pregnant with her second child. What's Chris pretending to be—a chaste martyr? Don't tell me he's saving himself for Joan."

Adriana fell silent. She didn't mention that Chris had already been sleeping in Joan's room. It was too humiliating. She couldn't bring herself to say it.

"Let him do whatever he wants," she said. "I can't accept him anymore anyway."

In her heart, Chris was already unclean. Unclean in body, even more so in heart.

And she didn't want anything unclean.

Bella looked relieved. "That's the Adriana I know. Chris should agree to the divorce, right?"

"He doesn't."

The cup in Bella's hand slammed heavily onto the table—thankfully, it was made of wood.

"Is he a psychopath? Or some leftover from feudal times?"

Adriana pulled out a napkin, wiped the splashed water from her face, then calmly dried the table.

"Bella, keep your voice down. This isn't exactly something to be proud of."

Watching Adriana wipe up the water so calmly only made Bella angrier.

"He's bullying you because you've always obeyed him. He takes advantage of you being too decent."

Adriana turned her wedding ring slowly. "I promised Grandma Rosie."

The ring had been part of Grandma Rosie's dowry from her natal family—a priceless antique she'd given Adriana five years ago. To Adriana, it represented Grandma Rosie, not the marriage itself.

Bella sighed, her anger dissolving into helplessness.

Seventeen years ago, in the dead of winter, little Adriana had been abandoned on the street by relatives and nearly frozen to death. It was Grandma Rosie who took her home.

Grandma Rosie had given her the best life, the best education, and more love than anyone else ever had.

Before she died, Grandma Rosie had knelt and begged her. In that situation, Adriana had had no choice.

It wasn't that she couldn't let go of Chris—it was that she couldn't betray the promise she'd made to Grandma Rosie.

Adriana smiled calmly. "What's trapped me was never Chris. It was my own heart—my debt to Grandma Rosie."

Setting marriage aside, Chris was still like a brother to her, Grandma Rosie's most beloved grandson.

Five years ago, she'd already learned what it meant to be powerless. No matter how difficult things were now, they couldn't be harder than they'd been back then.

With Joan's return, her heart had actually become freer.

She might have to keep her promise to Grandma, but she no longer needed to be loyal to Chris.

Bella turned her cup slowly, regret flickering in her eyes.

"Do you remember our senior year of high school? You had a high fever and were hospitalized. Chris was abroad for an important competition, and he still flew back overnight. He stayed by your bed, telling jokes nonstop. You found him annoying, but he didn't dare stop out of fear you'd fall asleep."

Adriana tightened her grip on her fork and gave a soft "Mm."

She remembered it all. There was no denying how good Chris had been to her back then.

"At the time, he genuinely cared about you as his little sister. I even had a brief crush on him," Bella said with a grin. "He was like a gentle, cheerful big brother—he was great."

Then she pursed her lips. "Who knew he'd turn out like this—stubborn and impossible."

Adriana didn't respond. She picked up the last piece of greens from her bowl and ate it.

After wiping her mouth with a napkin, she smiled faintly. "It's all in the past."

Those bits of warmth from before had been real. So was the suffocating distance between them now.

The two of them talked endlessly, and by the time Adriana got home, it was already past eleven.

Chris, who was usually asleep by then, was alone in the living room reading.

He wore black loungewear with a thin blanket draped over his knees. In the soft light, his profile looked elegant and aloof.

He held a book in both hands, yet hadn't turned a page in a long time—just sat there, gaze lowered, a faint gloom gathering between his brows.

After the car accident, his temperament had changed drastically, becoming hard to read.

Adriana often felt as though only a shadow of him remained in this world—thin and quiet, like a crescent moon reflected in water, fragile enough to shatter at a touch.

"Where did you go?" Chris asked in a low voice, eyes still on the book.

"Dinner with Bella."

Adriana slipped off her heels and changed into soft house slippers.

She hadn't worn heels in a long time. After a full day in them, her feet ached badly.

"Do you want me to push you upstairs?" she asked before leaving the living room.

Chris set the book aside—his way of agreeing.

"Went to Bella to discuss how to divorce me?" he suddenly asked, his tone laced with mockery.

Adriana pushed the wheelchair into the elevator, her expression indifferent. "You know it doesn't matter who I discuss it with—unless you…"

Chris cut her off coldly. "Don't even think about it."

"We've known each other for seventeen years. You should know—I don't let go of what I want."

She did know. Even as a child, Chris had been domineering. When they first met, that trait had even frightened her a little.

After the accident, his obsession had only deepened.

She replied seriously, "I'm a person. Not a thing."

More importantly, she belonged to herself.

The elevator rose smoothly. Adriana watched their overlapping reflections in the glass wall—one seated, one standing—like strangers to each other.

When they got out, she saw Edward standing outside the bedroom door. Without asking anything, she pushed Chris toward him.

Joan was being overly cautious. Completely unnecessary.

She and Chris had been married five years without anything happening. Nothing would happen now, either.

Chris watched Adriana turn and return to her room, then lowered his head and rubbed his brow.

"Edward, go find your mom first. I have work to take care of."

He took the elevator to the top floor, with Damien following silently.

The top floor was a vast, empty hall. Aside from tables, chairs, and sofas, there were only a few astronomical telescopes and two rows of bookshelves.

Two of the walls were made of glass. Moonlight from above and city lights below both poured into the space.

Chris stood up from his wheelchair and stopped before one of the glass walls, overlooking the brilliantly lit streets of Heatherton City.

The noise of traffic faded into silence at this height.

Damien stood at a cautious distance in the shadows, eyes occasionally flicking toward the door.

Backlit, Chris's tall, dark figure stood straight as a pine.

His legs were firm and straight—showing no trace of disability.

"You must think I'm a despicable bastard," he said, "lying to two women.

"I owe Joan and Edward too much. If I didn't pretend to be disabled, they wouldn't be living so pitifully.

"As for Adriana…"

He paused, lit a cigarette, and toyed with it between his fingers.

"I have a lifetime with her. She'll understand my difficulties."

Outside the door, Adriana froze, her hand stiff on the handle.

She couldn't sleep and had come up to look at the stars—never expecting Chris to be here.

"She'll understand my difficulties."

That was the sentence Adriana heard as she came up.

In this house, the only person Chris would bare his heart to late at night was Joan. The "she" in his words could only be her.

What difficulties could Chris possibly have? She didn't understand—and had no desire to.

Adriana withdrew her hand from the doorknob and turned to go downstairs.

She had no intention of eavesdropping, nor any interest in interrupting them.

…

The next morning, Adriana left early for work as usual. Being stuck in rush-hour traffic was irritating, but when she thought about the chaos at home, even the blaring horns sounded pleasant—far better than Edward's crying.

When she arrived at the office, a middle-aged man wearing thin-rimmed glasses was just coming out of the chairman's office.

He wore a sharply tailored black vest suit with a matching tie. His white shirt was fastened with gold cufflinks, and his watch was a pale gold in the same tone. His figure was well maintained, his appearance neat and refined, carrying an air of understated elegance.

Charlie introduced him. "Adriana, this is Mr. Reeves."

Adriana hurriedly bowed. "Good morning, Mr. Reeves."

Neo nodded and walked down the steps at an unhurried pace.

"Adriana, if you need anything in the future, come to me. Treat this place like your own home."

Every gesture was gentle and cultured.

Adriana felt he didn't resemble a businessman so much as a scholar-official from the olden days.

"Thank you, Mr. Reeves."

She noticed his gaze lingering on her and looked back out of curiosity. The longer she looked, the more familiar he seemed.

Yet she was certain she didn't know someone of his stature.

Behind their computers, the office staff stole glances and exchanged looks. It was the first time they'd seen Mr. Reeves be this warm toward anyone.

Neo withdrew his gaze and strode off. Charlie and the other three secretaries followed.

Charlie motioned for Adriana to come along.

She picked up her laptop and hurried after them.

After the elevator descended a few floors, Charlie followed Neo into a spacious, well-lit conference room. The three other secretaries went into the adjacent room.

Adriana followed into the neighboring room and found a seat.

The female secretary, Carla Mowinsky, pointed to the headset on the table. "Mr. Reeves will be discussing a collaboration with the CEO of Paradigm Group. We're responsible for recording and summarizing the meeting."

"Thank you," Adriana said with a smile, putting on the headset and opening her laptop.

Ten minutes later, a deep, magnetic male voice came through the earpiece.

The familiar sound ran through her like an electric current. Her heart skipped a beat, and an image flashed through her mind.

She only lost focus for a moment before quickly regaining her composure and continuing to take notes.

It was her first day at work. She couldn't afford mistakes.

Two hours later, the meeting ended.

Adriana grabbed her laptop and was the first to rush out, staring anxiously at the tightly closed conference room door.

Carla followed her out. "Adriana, we need to hurry back and consolidate the key points. Mr. Reeves wants to review them."

Adriana kept looking back as she walked. Even when she stepped into the elevator, no one came out of the conference room.

Back at her desk, she searched for Paradigm Group.

There was very little information online. It was a multinational group that had risen in the past six months. Its CEO was named Francesco Este, a Mitalian.

Adriana had never heard the name. She closed the webpage, feeling slightly disappointed.

There were too many people with similar voices. Even Chris and his elder brother, Dean, were hard to tell apart.

The rest of the day was busy, leaving her no time to dwell on anything else.

Before getting off work, Charlie praised her for summarizing the technical aspects of the meeting exceptionally well. Mr. Reeves wanted her to work more closely with the technical department in the future.

The good news swept away her fatigue. Since getting married, she hadn't received affirmation from anyone else.

With more than ten minutes left before clocking out, she idly flipped through a magazine Charlie had left on her desk.

The first page announced an auction at the Deseigh Cultural Arts Center at 7:30 that evening.

Curious, she browsed the items.

When Grandma Rosie was alive, she loved collecting vases and jewelry.

Influenced by her, Adriana had also begun paying attention to auctions.

On the third page, a rose-shaped brooch made of entwined gold wire and set with rubies leapt into view.

Adriana's breath caught. Her nose burned as a rush of emotions—like rough stones—scraped painfully against her chest.

That was the "Heart of the Rose."

It was her mother's favorite brooch when she was alive. Her father had given it to her as a token of love.

After her parents' accident, relatives came and many things went missing. Even this brooch disappeared.

She had been eight years old then. All she remembered was that her parents didn't even have complete bodies.

She clutched the two urns tightly, struggling to stand, while the towering adults pulled at her.

An aunt told her to go with her. An uncle wanted to take her home. She was passed back and forth like an object.

Within half a year, those same relatives began to resent her, tossing her around from place to place.

Only when she grew up did Adriana learn the term for it—devouring an orphan's estate.

They fought over property, not the burdensome child she'd been.

She stared at the brooch in the magazine, so distressed she could barely breathe.

It was as if she'd been dragged back to that year, watching her parents' urns set down carelessly.

Adriana clocked out quickly. To avoid traffic, she scanned a shared bike and headed straight for the Deseigh Cultural Arts Center.

After drifting between relatives' homes for half a year, she'd inherited nothing her parents had left behind.

She had to buy back the "Heart of the Rose".

The brooch wasn't an antique. It was just exquisitely crafted, with a ruby of some value. It shouldn't attract sky-high bids.

At the Deseigh Cultural Arts Center, Adriana completed the identity verification.

After confirming she was the wife of Chris Slater, CEO of Slater Group, the staff didn't require a deposit.

"Mrs. Slater, Mr. Slater has already made an online reservation and paid the deposit. This is your bidding paddle."

Adriana accepted paddle number 122.

Chris had paid the deposit. That meant whatever she bid would be charged to his account.

Holding the paddle, she entered the specially arranged hall, determined to reclaim her mother's keepsake.

She'd come straight from work without changing clothes. The usher assumed she was an employee bidding on behalf of her boss and led her to a seat near the back corner.

Half an hour later, the hall gradually filled up.

The auctioneer, dressed in a formal dress, stepped onto the stage, and the room fell silent.

According to the magazine, "Heart of the Rose" was the ninth item.

Adriana waited anxiously, barely registering the earlier lots.

When the auctioneer finally announced "Heart of the Rose," she straightened, the hand holding her paddle trembling slightly.

"This is no ordinary piece of jewelry. Every petal you see has been shaped by layers of gold wire, painstakingly wound by hand.

"At its core is a 5.21-carat pigeon-blood ruby, pure in color and perfectly set within—becoming the beating heart of this golden rose, a symbol of love's indestructible strength…"

Adriana held her breath, eyes locked on the brooch, terrified her mother's keepsake might vanish again.

At last, the auctioneer swept her gaze across the room, voice solemn.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the starting price for 'Heart of the Rose' is 200 thousand dollars."

"210 thousand!"

Adriana raised her paddle without hesitation. Cold sweat soaked her palms. Her heart raced as she silently prayed no one would compete with her.

In the front row, Chris turned at the sound. Joan followed his gaze.

"Chris, you didn't say Adriana would be here."

"I didn't know she was coming."

Chris's eyes fell on the brooch. The corner of his lips lifted slightly—it was rare for Adriana to like a piece of jewelry.

At that moment, Joan, seated beside him, raised her paddle.

"250 thousand!"

Adriana only realized Joan and Chris were there when she heard Joan's voice. Chris never came to events like this. Even if there was something he wanted, he would have his assistant bid on his behalf.

Tonight, he was here mostly to accompany Joan.

Chris spoke calmly. "That's something Adriana likes. Pick something else."

"'Heart of the Rose' has a unique design. It would be a huge help to my work in the jewelry industry. I really need it." Joan rested her hand lightly on Chris's knee and pleaded softly, "We can buy Adriana something even better, okay?"

Before Chris could respond, Adriana's clear voice rang out from the back.

"300 thousand!"

Joan lowered her head, disappointment written all over her face.

"To Adriana, 'Heart of the Rose' is just a pretty brooch. To me, it's a work of art. Chris, you said that no matter what I liked, you'd give it to me."

Chris leaned back against his chair, his expression unchanged. "Go ahead then."

Adriana's interest in jewelry had always been fleeting. He could simply buy her a bigger, more expensive gem later. Joan, on the other hand, was well-versed in gemstones and intended to enter the jewelry business.

"320 thousand!" A flash of triumph crossed Joan's eyes, her voice lifting unconsciously.

"350 thousand." Adriana raised her paddle and increased the bid evenly.

Either way, the money came out of Chris's account—marital assets. If Joan dared to use their shared money to bid, Adriana had no reason to hold back.

"400 thousand!"

"450 thousand!"

…

Neither side gave way, and the price climbed with each round.

After several bids, Adriana called out a staggering figure.

"One million."

"Chris, Adriana is clearly determined to fight me for it." Joan set down her paddle, her gaze lingering reluctantly on the radiant "Heart of the Rose."

"I can't bear to waste your money recklessly. That brooch isn't worth one million. Let her have it."

Chris considered for a moment, then motioned to a staff member and spoke to him in a low voice.

Having received instructions, the auctioneer did not bring the gavel down right away.

"Jewels are easy to come by. Love is not," the auctioneer said solemnly. "Does anyone wish to raise the bid?"

Adriana watched the room tensely. As long as no one bid again, her mother's keepsake would finally return to her.

At that moment, a staff member leaned over and whispered, "Mrs. Slater, Mr. Slater says his bidding account is not authorized for your use. If you wish to continue bidding, you'll need to pay a separate deposit."

Adriana froze. Her paddle drooped in front of her, her fingers curling so tightly they hurt. Her heart plunged into icy water, a dense, biting cold gnawing at her ribs.

She instinctively looked toward the familiar figure in the front row. He didn't even turn around.

It felt like a slap across the face, leaving her humiliated and exposed. Even when Joan and Edward had moved into the house, she hadn't felt this crushed—this disappointed.

"Fine. I'll pay the deposit now." Her voice came out with effort, her throat clogged as if stuffed with damp, rotting cloth, nauseating and suffocating.

"But the paperwork takes time," the staff member said hesitantly. "If someone bids one million during that time, then—"

"Go. Now." Adriana braced herself against the chair and stood up as the auctioneer's voice floated over.

"Due to unforeseen circumstances, if anyone is willing to bid one million—and no further bids are placed—the 'Heart of the Rose' will be sold."

"One million!" Joan raised her paddle high, her voice loud and decisive.

Adriana halted mid-step, one hand gripping the back of a chair, her face drained of all color.

She wouldn't get it.

Her entire savings amounted to just two million. Even if there were time, Joan had Chris backing her—she could never outbid them. Helplessness and rage churned in her chest, grievance clogging her throat until she could barely breathe.

She stared at the brooch onstage, so achingly familiar, her vision blurring little by little. She was eight years old again, watching her parents' belongings vanish one by one, powerless to stop it.

"One million, once! Any higher bids?

"One million, twice!

"One million—"

"1.1 million!" A man hurried in. Before he even sat down, he raised his paddle and called out loudly.

"No matter what anyone else bids, I'll add one more increment—until it's mine."

All eyes turned toward him. A low buzz of murmurs swept through the room.

Some people began to doubt themselves. Was this brooch actually a priceless antique? If not, this was far too strange.

The bidding war had already reached one million, and now, a man had announced he was ready to pay any amount for it.

The most stunned of all was Adriana. Why was Charlie bidding on the "Heart of the Rose"?

"Love is elevated at this very moment!" the auctioneer declared passionately. "Ladies and gentlemen, is anyone else willing to breathe life into love?"

His gaze fell on Joan. She was calm, with no intention of bidding again.

Chris remained composed. "Joan, you can continue."

Joan smiled at him. "No need. Your feelings for me are far more precious than the 'Heart of the Rose.'"

She had no real interest in that worthless brooch. Competing with Adriana—that was the real fun.

Chris said nothing. Avoiding her gaze, he turned slightly to look toward the back.

Adriana sat there blankly, her small face pale, tears pooling in her eyes.

Something twisted in his chest—a sharp pain he couldn't quite name.

"I'll head back first. If you see anything you like, just bid on it."

The last time he'd seen Adriana cry was when Grandma Rosie passed away. It was just a brooch. Did it really matter that much?

An assistant came over to push his wheelchair, and Joan stood as well. "I'm not interested in the remaining items either. Let's go together."

Chris didn't respond. As he passed Adriana, he stopped—but didn't dare look at her.

"Take another look. If there's any jewelry you like, I'll buy it for you. Consider it compensation."

Compensation.

Again, compensation.

To Chris, it seemed everything in the world could be paid off with money.

Adriana tipped her head back, forcing the tears away, and took a deep breath. Then she lifted her head and gave him a mocking glance. She said nothing and strode out.

Once, Chris had been her anchor. Now, he was the blade outsiders used to stab her. The pain was unbearable—just like losing her mother's keepsake all over again.

"Chris, go wait in the car. I'll talk to Adriana," Joan said.

At the entrance, she grabbed Adriana's arm. The warmth from earlier was gone, replaced by icy provocation. Her eyes gleamed with smug triumph.

"Adriana, after all these years, you still haven't grown at all. You couldn't beat me back then. You still can't now."

Adriana laughed coldly. "That's right. You've always liked stealing from me—jewelry, clothes, cheap little trinkets."

Anything Adriana liked, anything Chris bought for her, Joan would take.

Back then, because she was Chris's fiancée, Adriana didn't want to make a scene and always gave way. They were just trivial things, after all. And every time Joan took something, Chris would compensate Adriana with something even more expensive.

But this time was different. This wasn't something expendable.

If Joan hadn't deliberately competed with her, she would have secured the "Heart of the Rose" before Charlie arrived.

Adriana looked Joan up and down with open disgust, her red lips curling into a scornful smile.

"You know, Joan," she said coolly, "only stray dogs enjoy fighting over scraps."