"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.

Bronson pressed a soft kiss to Estelle’s lips, the warmth of his touch lingering before he whispered against them, “Give me a child, and I’ll give you your mother’s ashes.”

Estelle’s heart twisted at the words. She knew it was a cruel kind of hostage exchange, a game where she held no cards.

If she could abandon a helpless newborn after giving birth, if she could simply walk away with her mother’s ashes, then Bronson would never have been able to use them as a weapon. From the start, he would have never had the power to threaten her with such a thing. But now, as she stood before him, she realized that it wasn’t just about the ashes. It was about control. And she had none.

She had no say over her own body. The moment Bronson uttered those words, she knew the child would be born, whether she consented or not.

Tears clouded her vision as she met his gaze, her body trembling, her voice barely a whisper. “Okay.”

Bronson’s smile was triumphant as he gently slid the diamond bracelet onto her wrist. It was an exquisite piece, but it felt like a shackle rather than a gift.

"Estelle, you'll stay by my side forever."

Estelle had just gone through an abortion, and the idea of becoming pregnant again was far from appealing. Her injured leg only made matters worse. But Bronson wasn’t rushing her. To make Estelle feel more at ease and to help prepare her for what was to come, he had even cleared all the spies from her company.

At last, Estelle found herself with the time she needed to catch up on the cases piling up in her office.

The day before the trial, Estelle met with the victim’s guardian.

“Lawyer Maddox, I’ve heard your services are expensive. Thank you for agreeing to help Tala without charge,” Aurora Smith, Tala Smith’s mother, said. Though she was just shy of forty, years of hard labor under the sun had aged her prematurely, giving her the appearance of someone much older, almost like Tala’s grandmother.

Aurora’s hesitant eyes glanced around before Estelle gently ushered Tala out of the room.

A relieved sigh escaped Aurora’s lips as she looked at Estelle, her sunken eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Lawyer Maddox, my daughter’s father, wants to know if we can settle this quietly. What can that bastard offer us to make it go away?”

Estelle hesitated, confusion flashing across her face before Aurora quickly waved her hands in a frantic gesture.

“No, no, Lawyer. We don’t want to cause trouble. It’s just that he has power and influence, and Tala’s so young. I’m afraid it’ll ruin her. People will shame her when she returns to the village. After we’re gone, no one will stand up for her. We just want to make sure she’s taken care of. We want some compensation for her suffering.”

Estelle gently reassured her, "Don’t worry, we won’t take Tala’s case to court publicly. Given the situation, a compensation of ten thousand should be within reach. I’ll do everything I can to secure what she truly deserves."

At the mention of ten thousand, Aurora’s gaze flickered. She seemed on the verge of saying something more, but the moment Tala returned, her words faded away.

Estelle rose to see them out. Aurora led the way, while Tala stayed close to Estelle, keeping a few steps behind her mother.

"Sister Estelle, do you think the bad people will really be brought to justice?" Tala asked, her voice laced with doubt.

"They will," Estelle answered firmly, her conviction unwavering.

Tala breathed a sigh of relief and whispered, "Actually, they don’t want me to sue them. Lately, people have been causing trouble for my parents at the construction site. My dad says it’s all my fault."

Estelle’s chest tightened. She paused, her mind spinning with questions. Even if she helped Tala win the case, would it be enough? Would the other party simply move on once they were out of prison, or would they come after her again?

Estelle had worked hard over the years, building a small nest egg. But none of her money or security could protect her from someone like Bronson. By the time the defendant was free, Tala would still be in college. What then?

"Sister, do you know what my parents said when they came home?" Tala’s voice cut through Estelle’s thoughts with a raw edge to it.

Tala’s eyes met Estelle’s with a heavyweight.

"My dad said that if I had gone out to work sooner, found a man to marry, someone who could protect me, none of this would’ve happened. He told me I was worthless and that I’d dragged them down with me."