"Wait outside."

Kade’s attempt to excuse the growing noise died on his lips as Bronson’s commanding tone cut through the air.

The room emptied in moments, leaving nothing but silence in its wake.

“Is it really so unbearable to have a meal with me?” Bronson asked, his voice low and edged with frustration as he pinned Estelle against the glass, his grip unyielding.

“If you’re looking for a drinking partner, you’ve come to the wrong place,” Estelle shot back, her chin lifted defiantly, her composure unshaken despite the intensity of his gaze.

“I don’t need a drinking partner,” Bronson murmured, his tone laced with a dark undercurrent. “But I’m upset, and I need you to make me feel better.”

Before she could reply, he pulled her down onto his lap, his hold unrelenting.

Estelle struggled, her movements fierce, but Bronson released her without warning, leaning back with a look of amusement as she scrambled to her feet, poised to flee.

Calmly, he pulled out his phone and dialed.

“Director Parish,” he said, his voice taking on a chilling calmness, “the patient I asked you to look after, stop their medication for now.”

The words hung in the air, their weight undeniable.

Bronson ended the call, his smirk deepening as he leaned back leisurely, raising an eyebrow at Estelle, who froze in place.

Estelle’s face drained of color, her eyes widening with disbelief as they locked onto him.

“You never spent a single cent on my mother’s medication. What right do you have to stop it?” her voice trembled with restrained fury.

“Because my last name is Bradwell,” he replied with a smirk that carried an edge of menace. “And if I so choose, not a single doctor in this hospital or this city would dare treat your mother. Evergreen Valley would become a dead end for her care. Of course, you could take her elsewhere, but from what I hear, moving her in her condition is nearly impossible.”

His words cut deeper than any blade, but he wasn’t finished. “Estelle, I had hoped for something mutual. But if you insist on resisting, I can just take what I want.”

Her glare bore into him like a dagger, but each step she took toward him felt like walking through quicksand.

She closed her eyes, her knees hitting the floor with a weight that crushed her spirit.

When it was over, Estelle coughed violently, the metallic taste of blood stinging her throat. The fire in her chest burned, but her heart had gone cold.

She couldn’t resist him, couldn’t escape, couldn’t even die. She was no more than a hollow vessel, shackled to Bronson’s whims.

Estelle left for work despite her fever.

She had been caught in the web of a harassment case for weeks. The defendant was powerful and untouchable, a man whose wealth and influence allowed him to wipe away every trace of his wrongdoings. The case couldn’t be filed, leaving Estelle to navigate through the murky waters of litigation. The first trial had been a crushing defeat, and everyone had lost hope. But Estelle, undeterred, had taken on the case for free.

The victim, a young girl still in school and abandoned by her parents, had come to see Estelle as a beacon of hope, a savior in her dark world. Today, Estelle could have taken a break, but her determination to finish the case quickly had overridden her fatigue. The girl had exams looming, and Estelle didn’t want to drag the ordeal out any longer than necessary.

After her mother’s death, the only thing that kept Estelle alive was the pursuit of justice for her clients. It was her escape from the suffocating shadow Bronson cast over her life.

She had thought about ending it all, but Bronson had dug up her mother’s grave, the act cruel and heartless. He’d taken her mother’s ashes as a twisted reminder of his control.

“Bronson! Are you even human?!” Estelle had screamed, her voice breaking under the weight of her grief. But he had held her tight, his grip unyielding, preventing her from collapsing into herself.

“Marry me, or face the consequences,” Bronson had demanded, his words cold and final.

At first, Estelle had refused, her resolve fierce. She had gathered enough evidence to bring him down, to sue him for everything he had done.

The case had gone smoother than she had expected, with Bronson reluctantly returning the ashes after the matter was settled. But when Estelle checked, she realized that only half of her mother’s remains had been returned.

For over twenty years, Estelle had lived her life believing in black and white, trusting that the law would punish the guilty. That was until she met Bronson.

Powerless against him, Estelle had no choice but to submit and marry him.

Just as she sat down at her desk, lost in thought, the receptionist’s voice interrupted her. Someone was looking for her.

Thinking it was a client, Estelle stepped out only to find Soleil Ruslan waiting for her. Soleil, the woman who had left her lingerie at Bronson’s house just the day before, Bronson’s childhood friend, the one who clearly had no intention of staying in the background.

Soleil’s gaze was sharp, her eyes sweeping over Estelle with an air of distaste as if she were studying something unworthy of her attention. Without saying a word, Soleil settled into the guest area, the silence between them heavy and thick with unspoken words.

"Bronson said you washed the lingerie I left behind yesterday?"

Estelle kept her eyes fixed on the case files, flipping through them with deliberate calm as if Soleil’s words were nothing more than a passing breeze.

Soleil slammed her cup onto the table, her anger spilling over as she hissed, "Estelle, how long are you going to keep clinging to Bronson?!"

Estelle’s response was cool, distant. "You’ll have to ask him about that."

The word divorce had once escaped Estelle’s lips, and at the very moment it did, Bronson had driven her to the seaside in the dead of night. He stood there, his coat whipping in the cold breeze.

“Estelle, if you don’t want to end up at your mother’s grave for a second time, go ahead and say it. Say you want a divorce.”

Estelle’s eyes lifted from the papers, her voice sharp as a blade. "If you could get Bronson to divorce me, you wouldn't be here. You and he are childhood friends, well-matched, but you couldn’t handle him. How do you expect me to?"

That struck a nerve with Soleil. At first, she thought Bronson was just playing with Estelle, but after returning from six months abroad, she found that Estelle and Bronson had already made it official.

Soleil knew Bronson. If he didn’t care deeply for someone, they would never make it onto his household registration.

If she could have moved him, she wouldn’t have been here now, testing Estelle’s devotion like a fool.

"I never wanted to be the young madam of the Bradwell family," Estelle stood, her voice steady but biting. "If you want that position, go ahead and find your way in. But don’t expect me to make it easier for you."

She paused, then added, almost casually, "And your lingerie? It wasn’t washed. It’s in the trash now."

With that, Estelle turned on her heel and left, leaving Soleil seething behind her, her teeth grinding in frustration.

Just as Estelle reached the door, Soleil’s phone rang—an incoming call from the private investigator she had hired to dig into Estelle’s life.

"Miss Ruslan, we have news," the investigator’s voice crackled through the line. "Estelle secretly had an abortion at the OB-GYN yesterday."

Soleil’s eyes gleamed with a spark of triumph. She knew that bloodline was sacred to Bronson’s grandfather, and this could be the key.

"What should we do next?" the investigator asked, his voice uncertain.

Soleil’s lips curved into a sly smile. "Not yet. Estelle threw away my things, so let’s make her regret it first."

She didn’t quite understand why Estelle had married Bronson. Still, Soleil was certain of one thing: Estelle wouldn’t agree to a divorce until she had been pushed to the breaking point.

Later that day, while Estelle was out picking up takeout, fate intervened. She found herself caught in a minor car accident.

Her left leg snapped, and though the driver was kind enough to take her to the hospital, the pain was unbearable.

As the doctor set the bone without anesthesia, Estelle’s face drained of color, cold sweat beading on her forehead.

Finally, after being discharged with a cast on her leg, Estelle’s phone buzzed. It was Bronson.

"You're not at the office?" he asked, his voice cool and controlled. He had a way of tracking her movements with uncanny precision.

"I had an accident, just heading back," Estelle replied, carefully weighing her words.

She knew the accident wasn’t a coincidence, but she had no intention of telling Bronson the truth. The Bradwell and Ruslan families were in the middle of a crucial deal, and if she caused any disruption, she knew the Bradwells would never forgive her.

She had reached a point where the only person she wanted to deal with was Bronson.

"Don’t go back. Come to the hotel and find me," Bronson’s voice came through, dripping with amusement. Estelle’s brow twitched in response.

"I still have a case to handle..."

"Why don’t you come and try?" Bronson replied before ending the call.

With no other choice, Estelle hailed a taxi, heading straight to him.

Today marked the anniversary of their wedding. Bronson had spared no expense, hosting a grand banquet. Having never courted a woman before, he wasn’t sure how to make her smile. After consulting Kade, he decided to surprise her with something special.

The banquet had been planned for the evening, all for Estelle, but as soon as she took leave, Bronson eagerly changed the time.

He couldn’t wait to see her. If it weren’t for her insistence on working, he would’ve locked her by his side forever, keeping her from the world.

In the banquet hall, Kade’s gaze fell on the diamond bracelet Bronson had kept close—one he had practically fought for at auction, tripling the price to get his hands on it.

"Is this for Estelle?" Kade asked a glint of curiosity in his eyes.

"It suits her," Bronson replied, his fingers brushing over the bracelet with tenderness, as if holding something infinitely precious. His gaze softened as if he were gazing at Estelle herself.

Kade shuddered and hastily took a sip of his drink.

"Man, you’re going all out for a wedding anniversary. Are you seriously planning to spend your whole life with Estelle?"

Bronson tucked the bracelet away and responded casually, "What’s wrong with that?"

"Nothing... just wait until you piss off Lawyer Maddox. When she sends you to jail, I’ll be sure to visit you on holidays," Kade said with a wince, half-joking.

"She wouldn’t dare," Bronson replied confidently, his voice steady.

Kade looked at him, disbelief and concern mingling in his eyes. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for Estelle.

The Bradwell family was an enigma, standing apart from the rest of their circle. Bronson had been snatched away as a child, tortured by enemies. He didn’t return to his family until his teenage years. When they found him, he was a shell of a boy, his body covered in bruises, barely hanging on to life after days of abuse.

That harrowing childhood left scars, not just on his skin but deep in his soul. While he seemed composed most of the time, when it came to something or someone he held dear, he became like a bloodthirsty predator. Once his claws sank in, he’d never let go.

Estelle was the only one he had ever truly pursued.

Bronson’s phone buzzed, and, a little drunk, he opened it. The moment his eyes scanned the message, the alcohol seemed to evaporate, replaced by a cold fury. His face hardened, and with a curse, he hurled the phone across the room.

When Estelle limped into the banquet hall, she found it empty except for Bronson.

She sensed something was wrong and stopped in her tracks.

Bronson stood in the middle of the room, his sleeves rolled up, looking every bit the mix of sophistication and danger. He stubbed out his cigarette and turned his gaze to her. The anger on his face disappeared as soon as he noticed her cast.

He was by her side in a heartbeat. "How did this happen?"

"I tripped," Estelle replied, her voice cold and distant.

Bronson saw through her lie instantly, and the anger he had been holding back flared to life once more. He ground his teeth before demanding,

"Where were you yesterday?"

Estelle hesitated, then, hoping to brush it off, answered, "I was working late."

Bronson smiled, but it was nothing more than a grimace, his patience wearing thin. "I’ll give you one more chance."

Estelle knew this moment would come, though she had hoped to avoid it. She’d felt it hanging in the air for some time, like the calm before a storm, but she hadn’t expected it to break so soon.

When she didn’t respond, Bronson knew she had made her choice: silence. And he hated it, hated the way she pretended to ignore the issue as if it were beneath her.

During his years abroad, Bronson had found solace in the brutal sport of boxing. No mercy, no hesitation. With that same energy, he kicked a table across the room, sending glass shards flying in all directions, crashing like thunder.

“Estelle, is it really so hard for you to have a child with me?” His voice was strained, his eyes bloodshot, as he closed the distance between them, trapping her against the wall.

“Why would I want to?” Estelle retorted, her crutch slipping from her grip as she steadied herself against the wall. “Why would I want a child with a thief?”

Bronson’s laugh was bitter, twisted by frustration. His teeth ground together as he lowered his head to her neck, his breath hot against her skin. “I... I wanted to be good to you, Estelle.”

Estelle felt a cold shiver creep up her spine. How could he still speak of being “good” to her after everything he had done? It was as if he had no understanding of the damage he had caused.