Unwilling to remain at the Miller Group any longer, Jillian immediately handed in her resignation.

Afterward, she stopped to buy painkillers to dull the intense ache in her leg, and then she began visiting several law firms, one after another.

At each place, the response was the same. The moment they learned her case involved taking something back from Miller Group, their attitude changed, and she was turned away without hesitation. Even Apex Law Firm, the final office on her list, rejected her for that very reason.

With nothing left to try, she started packing her belongings, ready to leave in defeat, when someone suddenly called out behind her, "Miss, could you wait for a moment, please?"

Turning around, she recognized the receptionist who had assisted her earlier.

A hint of confusion crossed Jillian's face as she responded, "Did I take something that belongs to your firm by mistake?" Her hand instinctively moved toward her purse to check.

Quickly shaking her head, the receptionist dismissed the concern. "No, that's not it. One of our partners reviewed your file and became interested. He would like to speak with you again."

Hope flickered back to life within her, and Jillian followed the receptionist into a modern conference room. Once inside, she sat down and steadied herself, but the partner had not arrived yet.

After a short wait, the door opened, and a tall man entered, then took the seat across from her.

The moment his features came into view, the courteous smile on Jillian's face stiffened. Of all situations, running into an ex-boyfriend while looking for a lawyer felt almost absurd.

Seated across from her was Leland Wilson, the first man she had dated when she was eighteen.

Back then, she had been the one who chose to end things.

He struggled to accept the breakup, and the way they parted had been far from pleasant.

Even so, Jillian had long since viewed that relationship with clear-headed detachment, so seeing him again did not unsettle her as much as it could have.

After gathering her thoughts, she pushed forward and began laying out her situation without hesitation.

Throughout her explanation, Leland said nothing and simply kept his attention on the documents, flipping through them one page at a time.

When her voice finally fell silent, the room was left in a tense quiet.

Only then did Leland raise his eyes, and his question caught her off guard. "Your husband treats you like that, and you're still not planning to leave him?"

A slight crease formed between Jillian's brows as she answered, "I'm going to divorce him. But right now, getting my patent back matters more."

Fixing her with a sharp look, Leland spoke with blunt honesty. "So you left me, only to end up with someone like him? Your judgment is worse than I thought."

The instant Jillian realized who he was, she had known that sarcasm was coming her way. Instead of reacting, she stayed composed and answered evenly, "Men like you are no different from each other. I walked away from you once, and I can walk away from him, too. I made a mistake before, and now I'll make a different choice."

A shadow crossed Leland's face as her words sank in. Was she really putting him on the same level as the man she was trying to leave?

"Don't lump me together with him. I never betrayed you when we were together." With a tightening jaw, he spoke with restrained irritation.

Then, as something from the past resurfaced, his tone sharpened further. "When I tried to get you back, I told you Dennis and Melany were involved. You were the only one who refused to see it. You rushed in anyway without thinking."

A faint, bitter smile curved across Jillian's lips.

Looking back, she could only see how naive she had been. She convinced herself that Dennis and Melany were nothing more than harmless childhood companions. She tolerated his cold treatment again and again, hoping he would finally acknowledge her. She even held onto the belief that he would one day remember who had saved his life. In truth, expecting anything from him had only made her look foolish.

Dwelling on those memories held no appeal for her anymore. With a steady breath, Jillian straightened her back and adopted a composed, professional demeanor. "Now that you know everything about my situation, can we focus on the case?"

After studying her for a moment, Leland chose not to press further and shifted into a more formal tone. He began outlining the legal aspects of her situation and offered his advice.

As the discussion came to an end, Jillian made her way toward the door. Just before she could leave, Leland called out from behind her, "Aren't you the well-known Dr. Casey Hadley? Why not use that identity to take back your patent?"

For a brief moment, Jillian paused, caught between instinct and memory. Her grandmother had always insisted that she leave Casey's identity behind and live quietly as Jillian.

After considering it, she looked back at Leland and spoke with quiet confidence. "With you handling this, I do not think I need to rely on the name Dr. Hadley."

Taking a step closer, Leland studied her expression. "So you have that much faith in me?"

Without hesitation, she gave a sincere answer. "I do. You carry yourself like a true professional now. You have changed a lot."

Something unreadable flickered in Leland's gaze, but it disappeared just as quickly.

Out of nowhere, he asked a question that shifted the air between them. "Do you ever regret ending things with me?"

After a short pause to think, Jillian responded honestly, "I do."

For a split second, satisfaction formed on Leland's face, but it didn't last.

With calm bluntness, Jillian added, "I regret not ending it sooner. If I had, you might have become an exceptional lawyer much earlier."

The change in Leland's expression was immediate, and his face turned grim at once.

With visible irritation, he pulled out a contract and spoke in a clipped tone. "So your voice is back, and this is how you use it? Just to argue with me? Sign this. I'll be handling your case from now on."

Without a moment of hesitation, Jillian picked up the pen and wrote her name.

Once everything was settled, Leland insisted, in a stiff and formal manner, that he would drive her home as part of his responsibility.

Although she tried to decline at first, she eventually relented and got into his car.

By the time they reached Aurora Mansion, both of them stepped out.

As they stood outside, Leland caught the subtle tremor that ran through her.

Without asking, he removed his suit jacket and placed it over her shoulders with firm insistence. "You're already an adult. How is it that you still can't take proper care of yourself?"

Jillian reached to give it back, but Leland stopped her and adjusted it more securely around her. "Happy birthday."

Caught off guard, she paused before responding, clearly surprised that he remembered, "That's the first birthday greeting I have received today. Thank you."

Meanwhile, inside the mansion, Dennis stood near the floor-to-ceiling window on the first level, occupied with his work calls.

From where he stood, Dennis lifted his gaze and caught sight of an unfamiliar man escorting his wife home while placing a jacket over her shoulders.

Without a second thought, he ended the call and stepped outside, his expression already tightening with displeasure.

Just as Jillian was about to head inside, Leland noticed Dennis approaching from a distance.

With deliberate intent, Leland moved closer and rested a hand on Jillian's shoulder to stop her. Raising his voice on purpose, he added, "By the way, enjoy your upcoming single life."

Every word carried clearly across the space and reached Dennis without obstruction.

At once, a sharp gloom settled in his eyes.

Before Jillian could even react, Dennis had already closed the distance and reached her side.

Right in front of Leland, he seized the jacket from her shoulders and tossed it aside as if it meant nothing. Without warning, he lifted her over his shoulder and carried her back inside with ease.

Caught completely off guard, Jillian struggled against him the moment she realized it was Dennis, and in the chaos, her shoes slipped off.

Once Dennis finally set her down, Jillian didn't spare him a glance and immediately made her way toward the stairs.

With a swift motion, Dennis seized her and forced her back against the wall, his expression heavy with displeasure. "Telling another man that you're about to be single? Jillian, does our marriage mean nothing to you?"

A mocking laugh slipped from Jillian as she replied, "Then what was I supposed to feel when you were so close with Melany? And don't forget, I already said we are ending this marriage. So keep your distance."

Without hesitation, she shoved him away, and the lingering scent of another woman's perfume on him made her stomach turn.

After losing his balance for a brief second, Dennis regained his footing and moved toward her again with even greater force.

A chill settled in his eyes as he spoke. "You don't even have a divorce agreement. What exactly are you planning to use to leave me?"

"I don't need one," Jillian said with firm resolve.

The decision had already been made in her mind. If a mutual agreement was not possible, she would file for divorce and end it through legal means.

For a moment, Dennis fell silent as he tried to make sense of her words. Then realization dawned on him. "So you brought another man into this on purpose to provoke me, hoping I would agree to the divorce?"

The realization settled in his mind all at once.

All of this, just because of the patent, had driven her to push things this far.

Taking a slow step back, Dennis let a faint, mocking look cross his eyes. "Give up on that idea. Divorce is not going to happen."

Caught off guard, Jillian asked the question that had been weighing on her. "Why are you so determined to refuse it?"

Love clearly was not the reason. Then why was he holding on so tightly?

With a detached tone, Dennis gave a curt response. "That doesn't concern you."

Refusing to let it go, Jillian asked, "Is this about Melany? As long as I remain your wife in name, no one in the Miller family will question how you treat her, and no one will criticize her either. To everyone else, you appear devoted and loyal, taking care of a disabled childhood friend."

As her thoughts aligned, her conviction grew stronger. "You don't actually want this marriage. You just need someone to keep up appearances, do you not?"

Not a single word came from Dennis.

That quiet response spoke louder than any denial could have.

A chill spread across Jillian's face as her expression hardened. "Dennis, this is disgusting."

An unbearable ache tightened around her chest, dull yet suffocating, as if countless tiny needles were pressing into her.

With a strained voice, she forced out her question. "Do you really think any of this is fair to me?"

Remaining completely unreadable, Dennis leaned closer and brushed his fingers lightly against Jillian's cheek. "You were the one who insisted on becoming my wife. This is simply the reality you chose, so you'll have to accept it."

Jillian stared at him as a cold chill crept deep into her bones.

The man who had once sworn he would marry her was now standing in front of her, deliberately driving each word like a blade into her chest.

Dennis really was despicable. There was no softer way to put it.

Drawing on what little composure she had left, she knocked his outstretched hand aside. "Don't touch me," she said, her voice sharp as her expression hardened.

She turned without hesitation and headed upstairs. This place no longer felt like a home. She needed to leave.

But the moment she pushed open the master bedroom door, she froze. Melany was inside.

So that was the reason Dennis had come back. He had brought her here.

Jillian's eyes swept over Melany, stopping almost instantly at the necklace resting against her collarbone. It was exactly the same as the one Dennis had given her earlier that day.

A hollow, bitter laugh rose in her chest. He really had no shame, giving the same gift to two different women without a second thought.

The faint amusement vanished just as quickly. Her gaze dropped to Melany's hands, and her expression changed abruptly. Her eyes widened with alarm.

"What are you doing with my paper?" she demanded, rushing forward, only to come up short as her fingers closed on empty air.

Melany had already reversed her electric wheelchair, gliding back out of reach with practiced ease. A thin, mocking smile curved her lips. "So you wrote a research paper at fourteen," she said lightly. "And it was handwritten too."

She had studied physics abroad, just like Jillian, which was the only reason she had been able to impersonate the so-called mute girl without being exposed.

But she had chosen the field for appearances, drawn to the prestige rather than the work itself. In truth, she understood very little, and everything she had built rested on a lie. She could not make sense of the paper, but she understood one thing clearly. Dennis could never see it.

Fearing what Melany might do, Jillian forced herself to stay calm. She softened her tone, trying to reason with her. "You already have everything you wanted. That paper is old. It poses no threat to you. Just give it back."

It was the first piece of work her mother had guided her through. It had never been published, but its value to her had nothing to do with recognition. It was the last thing her mother had left behind.

Melany gave a quiet laugh, clearly enjoying herself. "If it means so little, why do you care so much?" she said. "Tell you what. Kneel and beg me. Maybe I'll consider giving it back."

"Don't push me," Jillian said through clenched teeth, her hands curling into fists.

Melany raised a brow, unimpressed. "Not willing to kneel? Then I suppose I'll just burn it." She pulled a lighter from her pocket, flipping it open with deliberate slowness.

"Don't!" Jillian cried out instinctively.

Fire. The memory hit her like a shock. When she was fourteen, she'd been caught in an accidental fire—and the smoke had damaged her throat, leaving her unable to speak.

Even now, the sight of flames made her chest tighten. But losing that paper… losing the last piece of her mother…

"I'll kneel," she said, her voice strained.

The steel pins in her knee made bending painful, each movement slow and deliberate.

She lowered herself gradually, but her attention never left Melany's hands, the paper, the lighter.

Then, in a sudden burst, she moved. She lunged forward, aiming for the paper.

Melany reacted instantly. The wheelchair jerked back with a sharp mechanical sound, putting distance between them in a split second.

"So you really do care about this worthless thing," Melany said, her voice turning cold. "Interesting. I happen to enjoy destroying what matters most to you."

She struck the lighter. The flame flared, catching the edge of the paper almost immediately. With a careless flick, she dropped it to the floor.

Jillian's breath caught as the fire spread, the sight sending a wave of dizziness through her.

The dry pages burned quickly. There was no time to hesitate.

Forcing herself to move despite the fear clawing at her, she rushed forward and stamped at the flames, biting down hard on her lip as panic surged through her.

By the time she put it out, half the pages were already gone, reduced to blackened fragments.

Melany let out a soft, amused laugh. "What a pity. It was almost completely destroyed."

Perhaps it was better this way. Even if Dennis saw it now, there would be nothing left for him to recognize.

Tears blurred Jillian's vision as she carefully gathered the fragile, charred remains. The last thing her mother had left her was ruined.

She wiped her tears roughly and lifted her head. The despair in her eyes faded, replaced by something colder, sharper. "So," she said quietly, "you enjoy destroying my things?"

Before Melany could react, Jillian surged forward, slamming the wheelchair back against the wall and wrenching the lighter from her hand.

She feared fire. But in that moment, anger drowned everything else.

Her hand trembled as she flicked the lighter on again, holding the flame to Melany's carefully styled hair, the same hair she spent so much time and money maintaining.

The ends caught almost at once.

"Help! Dennis, save me!" Trapped against the wall, unable to move, Melany screamed in panic, thrashing helplessly.

The noise brought Dennis running. He took in the scene in an instant, his expression turning dangerously dark. "What are you doing?"

He crossed the room in seconds and shoved Jillian aside. But it was already too late. A large section of Melany's hair had been scorched, leaving behind a burnt, acrid smell.

Melany clung to him, burying her face in his jacket as she sobbed uncontrollably. "She tried to burn me alive! Dennis, she set me on fire. I was terrified."

Jillian let the lighter fall from her hand. It hit the floor with a dull sound. Ignoring them both, she carefully placed the damaged pages into a small box.

When she finally looked up, she met Dennis's gaze. It was cold. Hateful.

She had only ever seen him like this once—when her leg was broken.

Back then, that ice-cold hatred had been aimed at the men who hurt her. Now, he was aiming it at her.

Her chest tightened painfully, as though something inside her was being crushed.

"She burned my things first," Jillian said, her voice flat, her face empty of expression.

But Dennis only frowned at her, as if she were saying something absurd. "Melany is terrified of fire," he said sharply. "How could she have done something like that?"