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.

Bronson noticed the strange, distant look in Estelle’s eyes, and before he could process it, he was pulling her into his arms, his voice laced with concern. "Estelle, what’s wrong?"

"Don’t touch me," Estelle whispered, weakly pushing him away. She wasn’t sure if she had spoken aloud, but all she could do was repeat, "Don’t touch me."

Annoyance flickered in Bronson’s eyes. His grip tightened, forcing her to meet his gaze. "What’s all this fuss about? Even if the case is judged, the other side will get a maximum of three years. With their family’s influence, they might be out in less than a year. They don’t have the money to fight back. This is the best outcome. What’s bothering you?"

"The best outcome?" Estelle scoffed, bitterness dripping from her voice. "People like you could never understand." With that, she raised her hand and slapped him hard across the face.

Bronson tilted his head, anger flaring, his jaw tightening, ready to lash out. But before he could, Estelle’s phone rang, cutting the moment short.

It was a call from Tala.

Estelle immediately shoved Bronson away, her hand trembling as she answered the call.

"Tala, listen to me; the case still has a chance. I…."

"Sister, you’re abandoning me too."

Tala’s voice carried the weight of a storm, and in that instant, Estelle understood exactly what Tala was planning. Her body went cold, her hands numb. She could barely keep hold of the phone, her fingers shaking as she managed to switch to speakerphone.

"Tala, I will help you win the case. Please, trust me, just once more. I beg you."

"It’s too late. No one can help me now."

Before Estelle could respond, the sound of something heavy crashing echoed through the phone. Her grip faltered, and she collapsed to the floor, the weight of the moment overwhelming her.

Bronson watched, his expression unreadable, as the reality of what had happened sank in. Despite all his efforts to compensate, Tala still chose this tragic end. Now, it all made sense; he understood what Estelle had been holding on to.

"I’ll send someone to save her. It’s not too late!" Bronson pulled Estelle up, about to call for help when the door suddenly burst open.

His assistant froze at the sight of Estelle, his mouth snapping shut as his eyes widened in surprise, the words he had meant to speak dying in his throat.

Bronson’s anger surged like a storm, his voice sharp as he demanded, "What’s the hold-up? Spit it out!"

"Young Master, Young Madam’s mother’s ashes were taken by Soleil. Our people followed her, but they were too late. By the time we found her, she had…"

The words from the phone echoed in Estelle’s mind, but her thoughts seemed to freeze. Her heart dropped, and she felt the weight of the silence pressing down on her.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice tight, unable to stop the panic that twisted in her chest.

The assistant hesitated, casting a glance at Bronson before closing his eyes in resignation. "She scattered the ashes in the sea."