“Jack Sanchez, have you lost your damn mind? Everything I told you, did you feed it all to the dogs?”

I let out a cold laugh. Back when Rebecca and I first got together, she was always mentioning this stable hand her family kept.

Said he'd grown up alongside her. That he'd saved her life once, and she owed him for it.

The very first time we met, he came at me with a show of force, saying I hadn't greeted him properly.

I figured he was young, so I apologized, polite as could be.

All I got in return was a sneer：

“Some ill-bred nobody thinks he can walk into the Henson house!”

After that, it only got worse.

If I was even a beat late raising a toast to him at dinner, I was treating him like he didn't exist.

He didn't just look down his nose at me. He carried himself like he was the man of the house.

There were even times I wanted to spend a little longer alone with Rebecca.

He'd barge straight in, claiming he was doing some kind of mind-and-body cleansing today. No intimacy allowed in the Henson home.

His acting was so pathetic it actually made me laugh.

“Val, if you want to ruin our moment, just say so. Why bother with the performance?”

In the beginning, Rebecca would at least step in to smooth things over：

“Come on, Val, stop giving Jack a hard time. This is between the two of us. Go on out.”

But later, when she saw me getting pushed around, she wouldn't even glance my way. She'd side with him, tell me I was being dramatic.

“It's not like Val took a piece out of you. Do you really have to go after him like this?”

I stared at the absurdity playing out in front of me.

My own fiancée, taking a stable hand's side at every turn.

A stable hand, with the nerve to ride roughshod over me.

I'd spoiled Rebecca too much. That was what gave them the courage to treat me this way.

I brushed the mud off my clothes.

The stench still clung to me, thick and ripe.

I had never been humiliated like this in my life. I wasn't about to swallow it now.

“Have you thought about me even once? You can't even tell right from wrong, and you're already pointing the finger at me?”

I pointed straight at Val's hideous face, my voice ice-cold：

“Rebecca, do me a favor and figure out who your husband is supposed to be.”

“What kind of future man of the house takes orders from a stable hand?”

Before I even finished, Rebecca's eyes went red, and she screamed at me：

“Watch your mouth! What do you mean, stable hand?!”

“Did you forget the three house rules I told you? You show Val respect at all times!”

“That's a major offense. Don't even think about touching me for a month!”

Her dead-serious little decree was so absurd it made me laugh. Even now, at a time like this.

She still thought she could keep me in line with sex.

When I'd loved her to the point of stupidity, I'd agreed, in the heat of it, to her three so-called “house rules.”

First, never call Val Dickerson a “stable hand.”

Second, treat Val like family every time I saw him, without exception.

Third, the pecking order in the Henson house went Rebecca first, Val second, and me below them both.

Even her own parents didn't rank as high as Val.

Looking back now, it was nothing but a joke. I couldn't believe I'd ever been that pathetically blind.

It never crossed my mind that the two of them might have something shady going on behind my back.

Now that the feeling was gone, everything was a hell of a lot clearer.

I scoffed, turned, and started walking away.

“Punish me however you want. I don't care anymore. I'm done with this house!”

I'd barely taken two steps when Rebecca's voice rang out behind me, shaking with laughter.

“Oh, a big man talking tough, is that it?”

“You might be able to walk away from this house, but walk away from me? I'll believe it when pigs fly!”

The servants standing around exchanged uneasy glances, their faces flushing red from trying not to react.

Rebecca wasn't wrong, honestly.

Not a single person here believed I'd actually give up my position as the man of the house and leave her.

After all, back then I'd given up everything just to be with her.

I followed her around like a pathetic, groveling dog.

Gave up my career overseas for her.

Poured her tea, fetched her water, did whatever she needed.

All so I could hear her say those words: I do.

She'd said them, once.

“Jack, I see everything you do for me. From now on, we're family. No one gets to bully you.”

But I didn't love her anymore. And without love, there was no reason left to swallow any of it.

I ignored them both, turned away, and called Noah to have my things moved out.

This house. I'd bought it in secret, built to Rebecca's exact taste, five hundred million spent to make it hers.

Since she had no loyalty, she didn't deserve to live in it either.

“Pack your things and get out. Neither of you deserves this house.”

Rebecca and Val doubled over laughing：

“Have you lost your mind? You actually think this house is yours?”

Rebecca reached over and pressed her hand to my forehead：

“Did the fever fry your brain? You really think you could afford this place?”

“Don't forget, this house was Val's reward for winning first place at the international equestrian championship!”

Val's nostrils flared toward the ceiling the moment she finished, like he was the household's biggest hero.

Hero?

Watching them state it with such unshakable certainty, I laughed.

They clearly had no idea who organized that competition in the first place.

I was about to tell them the truth.

Then the servants, who'd been clustering around the commotion, suddenly fell into a neat line and went silent.

Ken Henson and Marcia Henson appeared, flanked by an entourage.

The old man looked me over head to toe, displeasure flashing across his face, then thumped his cane and sat down.

I'd crossed paths with Old Mr. Henson a few times before, but only as passing acquaintances at business functions. Nothing that would leave an impression.

Seeing me looking this wrecked, he had even less chance of recognizing me.

Marcia smiled warmly and asked Rebecca what had happened.

Rebecca faltered, eyes darting, and the lie spilled out before she could think：

“Oh, you know, some thug who had a run-in with Val a while back. Must've lost his mind, because he showed up today to start trouble. We were just about to throw him out.”

Val chimed in right on cue：

“That's right. Just some clueless nobody. We'll have him gone in a minute.”

I was so angry I almost laughed. I opened my mouth to set the record straight, but what Ken said next stopped me cold.

“Becca, I know you look out for Val because you two have been close since you were kids. But you never date anyone. As your father, that doesn't sit right with me.”

Rebecca opened her mouth, then closed it. So that was it. Eight years, and she had never once acknowledged me to her family.

I'd brought it up with her more than once. I wanted a real place in her life.

But she never gave me so much as a chance to visit, never invited me to a single family dinner or gathering.

When I asked why, she gave me the flimsiest excuse imaginable.

“My family's strict. I've always been the obedient daughter. I'd never dare go against my father.”

I believed every word. Promised myself, silently, that I'd love her twice as hard.

Now I could see it for what it was. Just an excuse she made up because she never wanted to claim me.

My fists clenched so tight the knuckles ached, and still none of it made sense.

I graduated top three Ivy League overseas. Height, looks, family background—none of it was lacking. Not a single thing.

What exactly wasn't good enough for Rebecca Henson?

Beside her, Val's gaze on Rebecca deepened, like a man staring at an angel he wanted but could never have.

I saw it clearly. I was about to call them out, expose whatever it was between them, but before I could get a word out—

Val's eyes shifted, and he turned the blade on me：

“Sir, I'll just say it straight—this guy's a creep. He's been all over Becca, won't leave her alone. That's the whole reason she won't date anyone. You think we'd come down on him this hard otherwise?”

The moment those words landed, Ken Henson's expression shifted. He narrowed his eyes and studied me.

“Is this true?”

Before I could get a word out, Val kicked me to the ground.

“Absolutely true. I even have proof he's been stalking and harassing Becca.”

He handed Ken a thick stack of photographs. Every single one showed me and Rebecca mid-argument, caught in moments of conflict, all taken in secret.

None of it was one-sided harassment.

I opened my mouth to protest, but Val flicked a glance at someone nearby, and a filthy rag was shoved hard between my teeth.

Ken's face turned ugly. The veins on his hand bulged as he gripped his cane like he meant to snap it.

I knew his only weakness was Rebecca, his one and only daughter.

She'd come late in his life, and Mrs. Henson's frail health had kept them from having another child.

So they'd spoiled Rebecca into the untouchable creature she was now.

Marcia looked ready to skin me alive, teeth clenched so tight the muscles in her jaw twitched.

“Becca, you tell me right now — is this true? And even if it is, don't you dare be scared. Mom's got your back!”

Rebecca's voice caught. She glanced at me, guilt flickering across her face：

“Mom……it's not really……”

Then she saw Val's brimming, wounded eyes, and the words died in her throat.

Just like that, even a lie became the truth.

Something in Rebecca seemed to surrender. She nodded.

My face was ground into the floor. Rebecca looked away from me, unable to hold my gaze.

Something ripped open inside my chest, a pain so raw I couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. My heart didn't break — it just died.

Ken's face was locked tight, every line carved with the kind of stillness that comes right before a sentence is passed.

“I've always been a fair man. Since there's evidence, I'll give you one chance to explain yourself.”

He tilted his chin, signaling a servant to pull the rag from my mouth.

I gulped air like a drowning man breaking the surface, gasping, wrecked.

Val laughed at the sight. His eyes were pure contempt：

“Look at you. Like a dog dragged out of a gutter.”

I met Ken Henson's razor-sharp gaze and forced my thoughts into order.

I'd heard the rumors. On the surface the Hensons were just a well-off business family — not some empire that could blot out the sun. But they'd clawed their way to where they stood now through means nobody talked about openly.

When I was investing overseas, I'd learned that any industry or

company the Hensons set their sights on would multiply in value several times over.

That kind of track record was built on ruthlessness.

If Ken decided I'd been stalking his daughter, I wouldn't live to see tomorrow's sun.

I clenched my jaw：

“Mr. Henson, Rebecca and I are in a relationship. I have proof!”

I scrambled for my smartphone, the one full of intimate photos of us together.

Every pocket came up empty.

I looked up at Val's smug face and understood. He'd stolen it.

“You……!”

But this wasn't the time to fight him over it. Ken's patience was already more than half gone.

Then I remembered. Rebecca had given me a pendant necklace carved from the Henson family's heirloom sandalwood, even stamped with the vermilion seal of the Hensons' ancestor, a painter famous the world over.

I'd worn it close to my skin ever since she gave it to me. I fumbled for it now：

“The Henson family's heirloom sandalwood necklace — Rebecca gave it to me herself! Doesn't that prove we're together?”

I tore it from my neck, held it up, and then my mind went blank.

This wasn't sandalwood. After years pressed against my skin, the back of the pendant had turned black.

Real heirloom sandalwood doesn't rot.