Estelle paused, then wrapped her arms around Tala in a tight hug. Before she could find the words to comfort her, Tala returned the embrace with equal intensity.

"Sister, I know it’s not my fault. I won’t let myself be blamed," Tala said, her voice steady but filled with quiet strength. "If I don’t stand up, he’ll hurt other girls. And my parents, well, they’ve never cared for me. They gave all their love to my brother. What they say now is just because that scum showed up with money."

Tala had thought she’d become numb to the pain, but talking to Estelle made her heart twist, and tears threatened to fall.

"Look, to them, I’m just a means to an end. Whether I marry early or drop the case, they don’t care about what I want. That man, when he touched me, he said he was born superior, that no one could punish him, not even the law."

Her voice shook slightly, but her resolve remained clear.

"I don’t want money. I just want him to pay for what he’s done."

Tala looked up at Estelle, her eyes bright with hope and admiration. "Sister, you’ll help me, won’t you?"

Estelle nodded firmly, her voice full of conviction. "I promise you, I will make him pay the price he deserves." She gently patted Tala’s head before sealing her promise with a pinky swear.

Tala’s eyes sparkled as she skipped away, a rare glimmer of youthful innocence lighting up her face, something Estelle hadn’t seen from her before.

In truth, the case was incredibly difficult. Estelle poured herself into it, working late into the night, desperate for a breakthrough. But with the victim’s family wavering on whether to proceed, Estelle knew it was fear keeping them in the fight, the fear of their own failures being exposed. Even if they lost, the other party would still pay ten thousand in compensation, so they wouldn't end up with nothing.

Estelle understood: this was her one shot.

She couldn’t protect herself, but at least she would protect Tala.

When work finally came to an end, a crowd had gathered outside the building. Estelle had already removed her plaster, but she was still walking with a noticeable slowness. She tried to slip past the crowd unnoticed, but as she rounded the corner, she spotted Bronson waiting for her by the curb.

He leaned casually against a car with a license plate full of sevens, the keys spinning effortlessly around his finger.

To prepare for the pregnancy, Bronson had quit smoking and drinking, a far cry from the careless man Estelle had once known. He looked almost... diligent.

Her coworkers knew only that Estelle was married, but none of them knew her husband was Bronson. Estelle instinctively tried to avoid him, but he had already caught sight of her. She had no choice but to approach, her every step weighed down by the curious gazes of her colleagues. Without a word, she opened the passenger door and slid inside.

Bronson smirked, a glint of amusement in his eyes before slowly sliding into the driver’s seat.

"Can we switch cars next time?" Estelle rubbed her forehead, the buzzing of her phone in her hand almost unbearable.

"You can pick any car from the garage. I’ll drive it next time," Bronson replied, starting the engine.

Estelle didn’t respond. The garage only housed cars that were far more expensive than this one, so she had little choice in the matter.

Lately, she and Bronson had managed to find a delicate balance between them. Estelle didn’t want to argue, so she chose silence, the weight of her thoughts pressing down on her. Tonight was the Bradwell family's annual banquet, and Estelle had no choice but to attend.

As she stepped into the grand old house with Bronson, her gaze immediately landed on Soleil standing nearby.

Without missing a beat, Estelle averted her eyes, masking her indifference, pretending not to notice.

Soleil, however, didn’t let her go so easily. Gripping her palm tightly, she swiftly approached.

"Bronson, Auntie was just asking for you. Let me take care of Estelle. You can go see if Auntie needs anything."

Bronson was always alert when it came to rivals, no matter their gender. Instinctively, he pulled Estelle closer, wrapping an arm around her waist. He turned to Soleil with a sharp look and said, "Estelle is my wife, the daughter-in-law of the Bradwell family. If my mother needs something, she’ll have no trouble finding me."

Soleil’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but she quickly regained her composure, keeping her voice steady. "It’s about Grandpa Brandon."

Soleil’s words were veiled, yet Bronson understood them immediately.

Someone had tipped off Brandon about Estelle’s surgery, and the old man had nearly given the final word on their divorce.

In the Bradwell family, Bronson could disregard anyone’s opinion without much consequence, but Brandon’s voice was law. When everyone else had turned their back on Bronson, it was Brandon who had refused to give up, pushing for him to return to the family.

The Bradwell family had never been against Bronson marrying Estelle, except for Brandon, who believed Estelle was a woman of remarkable talent and beauty, their children destined for greatness.

But Estelle had made an unforgivable decision; she had aborted the child Bronson had desperately wanted.

In response, Bronson had knelt in front of the ancestral hall for three days, claiming he hadn’t been ready for a child, that he had smoked and drank during the period they had been trying, fearing the child would be unhealthy. He had taken the fall to protect her, burying the truth.

Estelle had never known any of this. Bronson didn’t want her to face Brandon; it would only make her uncomfortable. He didn’t mind taking the blame, but Estelle, fragile and delicate, could never bear Brandon’s punishment.

Reluctantly, Bronson let go of Estelle’s hand, instructing Soleil to take care of her, then walked away, glancing back several times before disappearing into the night.

Estelle didn’t want to argue with Soleil, but Soleil wasn’t about to let her go. As Estelle walked toward the terrace, Soleil relentlessly followed, her presence an unwelcome shadow. Estelle didn’t know where Soleil had found the plastic bottle, but it hit her sharply on the back.

“I heard you used to pick up trash to get to school. How does it feel seeing this? Does it bring back memories?” Soleil’s voice dripped with malice.

Estelle was never one to back down. With swift precision, she grabbed a wine bottle and smashed it against the railing. The jagged shards of glass glinted in her hand as she stepped forward, pinning Soleil down and pressing the sharp edges to her neck.

Soleil opened her mouth to scream, but Estelle’s hand inched closer, silencing her.

“Scream again, and when the others come in, they’ll find nothing but your body,” Estelle warned, her voice cold as steel.

“Estelle, how dare you…” Soleil’s voice quivered, but Estelle didn’t give her the chance to finish.

“Do you know the principle of staying clear of the happy? You, the young lady of a powerful family, with everything handed to you, and I—as you said—had to scrounge for bottles just to get to school. Now, I have no family, no ties, nothing left to lose. Do you think there’s anything I won’t do?”

Fear flooded Soleil’s eyes. Her body went cold with sweat as she realized the truth in Estelle’s words. One more breath, and she knew Estelle would end her without hesitation.

After what seemed like an eternity, Estelle finally released Soleil, the glass slipping from her fingers and shattering on the floor. "If there’s a next time, I won’t hesitate to drag you down with me when I die," she warned coldly.

Soleil trembled, her eyes locked on Estelle, now filled with a mix of awe and fear. She had always believed that only someone from a prestigious family, like herself, could capture Bronson’s heart. But now, she realized it wasn’t someone like her, but rather someone like Estelle who could truly stir his soul.

That realization sank like a stone in her chest. She stumbled back, putting distance between them, only standing tall against the wall when she was sure Estelle could no longer harm her.

“I’ve met many women like you. If you truly had the courage, you’d have left him long ago. Let’s be honest, you’re after the Bradwell fortune.”

Estelle couldn’t help but chuckle, finding it almost laughable. Soleil had always seemed to be driven by obsessive love, but now Estelle saw her for what she truly was: unhinged.

“If you want him so badly, take him. If he wants to divorce me, I’ll be gone in an instant.”

Before she could finish her sentence, a fluttering sound caught her attention. The curtain behind her stirred, and Estelle spun around instinctively, her body tensing. She froze when she saw Bronson standing there, his presence like a storm.

A thin line of blood traced down his face, a reminder of something sharp that had grazed him. It only served to make his already intense, chiseled features appear even more wild, more dangerous.

"As long as I divorce you, you’ll leave immediately?"

Bronson’s voice was low and controlled, each word heavy with meaning. He took a few slow, deliberate steps forward, cornering Estelle with an intensity that left no room for escape.

Soleil stood by, a smug smile playing on her lips, ready to speak, but before she could utter a word, Bronson’s sharp gaze seemed to pierce through the back of his head. "Get out," he ordered, his voice cutting through the tension.

Soleil’s eyes instantly welled with red-hot anger. She had never been scolded like this before. "Bronson..."

"I’ll settle the score with you later," Bronson interjected coldly, his tone unforgiving. "But right now, get out of my house." His voice was ice, carrying an edge that made it clear he wasn’t to be defied. As soon as he’d left Brandon’s study, everything had clicked; he knew exactly who had informed him and Brandon about Estelle’s surgery.

Soleil bit her lip, glaring at Estelle with venom, before reluctantly retreating from the terrace.

Estelle’s gaze flickered downward, her mind racing. She wondered what the odds of survival might be if she were to jump from the third floor.

In a heartbeat, Bronson’s arms were around her, pulling her against his chest with crushing force. He tore at her clothes, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered, "Still thinking of breaking your leg again?"

"Bronson! Let go of me!" Estelle’s voice cracked with a mix of fury and panic.

Behind them, the garden stood wide open, where anyone could pass by at any moment. Estelle’s frustration reached a boiling point, and she slammed her fists into Bronson’s chest, desperate to break free from his unyielding hold.

But it was hopeless.

Estelle could barely form a coherent thought, the pain clouding her mind. The sound of footsteps reached her ears, their voices growing louder and closer. Then, a soft gasp echoed, followed by the hurried shuffle of feet as the group quickly retreated.

It felt as if her soul had slipped from her body, leaving her numb and detached. She stared blankly at the figure pinned to the terrace, her gaze drifting to the starry sky above, everything around her swirling in a disorienting haze. No matter how hard she tried, her vision refused to focus.

"If you ever dare to give me to someone else again," Bronson's voice cut through the haze, "next time, I won’t hesitate to march into your company, turn the CEO's office into a fishbowl, and let all of Evergreen Valley see just how well we get along." His tone was casual, but Estelle knew him well enough to recognize the deadly seriousness in his words.

‘Why am I still alive? Could Bronson just come with me and let us both die?’

Numbly, Estelle raised her hand, her fingers trembling as she tried to strangle him, but it was all in vain. Bronson effortlessly seized her hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss to it.

A wave of disgust rushed through her, and though she wanted to vomit, her stomach was empty, offering no relief.

Time seemed to stretch on, the punishment relentless, until it finally came to an end. Bronson forced her gaze back to him.

"Scared now?" He asked, a smirk playing on his lips. "There’s someone downstairs holding them back, so no one saw. You’re so beautiful; how could I let anyone else lay eyes on you?"

Estelle glared at him, a bitter edge in her voice. "Do you want me to thank you for that?"

Bronson draped his jacket over her shoulders, his tone soft and indulgent. "But I’m really angry. Starting tomorrow, you’re going to be a full-time wife. No more work, just focus on preparing for pregnancy. Don’t even think about sneaking off to your job. You’ve already been removed from the system."

"No, no, that’s impossible," Estelle pleaded, clutching desperately at his shirt. "I have a court case tomorrow. You can’t do this!"

Bronson’s smile remained, but Estelle’s unease spiked.

"That girl’s case, right?"

The words felt like ice in her veins.

"I saw you’ve been burning the midnight oil over such a small matter," Bronson continued lightly. "I’ve already arranged for someone to take care of it."

Estelle froze, her body trembling as a chill crept down her spine. "How did you handle it?"

Bronson spoke as if he were discussing a simple task as if it were nothing more than dealing with a stray animal.

"Following the usual rules in our circle," he said. "That girl’s withdrawn the case. I gave her parents a million as compensation and had someone take care of that scumbag for you. He’s a vegetable now; he won’t wake up for three to five years. You won’t have to deal with this petty stuff anymore."

Estelle’s world crumbled around her. She stared at him, her mouth opening, but no sound emerged. Despair settled in her chest, suffocating her.