After dinner, Sol Smith turned to Adrian Lopez. “Mr. Lopez, I can’t thank you enough for stepping in tonight. If Zamir had gotten his way, I’d never have forgiven myself.”

Adrian waved her off. “It was nothing.”

The next morning, she had the dry-cleaned suit jacket sent to the room next door, only to find out Adrian had already checked out. Last night, when she’d handed it in to be cleaned, she’d noticed it was custom-made—clearly expensive. Mr. Lopez was obviously a man of influence. Maybe their paths would cross again.

Back in her room, Sol Smith called to check on the progress. “Miss Smith, Eagle is prepared to buy the entire stake.”

“Great. Proceed with it.”

“Understood.”

Sol Smith hung up, left the hotel, stopped by a store for supplies, then took a cab to the orphanage. For the past three years, she and Zamir had supported this orphanage. It wasn’t much—just $1,500 a year—but it was enough to make sure the children got a few nutritious meals. When things were calmer, she and Zamir would bring treats and supplies for the kids. But Zamir had gotten busier and busier, leaving Sol Smith to make these visits alone.

The moment she stepped inside, joyful voices filled the air like a chorus of happy birds. “Sister Sol Smith!”

The children swarmed her, faces bright with joy. Warmth bloomed in her chest as she gently patted the nearest boy’s head. “Where’s Mama Quinn?”

At the sound of her voice, the orphanage director, Mrs. Quinn, stepped out, her face breaking into a warm smile. “Sol, what brings you here today?”

Sol Smith handed over bags stuffed with new toothbrushes, towels, notebooks, and pencils. “Just wanted to see the kids. I brought some essentials and supplies.”

Mrs. Quinn took them gratefully, her expression full of thanks. “You always bring so much whenever you visit. The children and I can’t thank you enough.”

It was rare to find someone like Sol Smith—young, generous with both money and time. And it had only been a month since her last visit.

Once the children had carried the supplies to the storage room, Mrs. Quinn led Sol Smith to a bench in the garden. “Sol Smith, is something wrong?” she asked gently.

Sol Smith managed a small smile. “I’m actually here to say goodbye.”

“Are you and Zamir leaving New York?”

Mrs. Quinn remembered that Zamir’s company had just gone public. Leaving now felt sudden. Had something happened?

“Zamir and I broke up. That’s why I’m leaving.”

Three years ago, Sol Smith had come to New York alone. Now she was leaving the same way. “But you were just about to get married?” Mrs. Quinn remembered Sol Smith bringing wedding invitations on her last visit, her face glowing with happiness.

“He’s been cheating for two years. I only just found out.” Sol Smith lowered her gaze, her long lashes hiding the hurt in her eyes. She was determined to move on, but saying it out loud to someone who had witnessed how deep her relationship with Zamir had been brought a dull ache to her heart.

“Could it be a misunderstanding?” Mrs. Quinn had seen the way Zamir cared for Sol Smith. His tenderness had seemed genuine.

“No misunderstanding. I saw it with my own eyes.” Sol Smith’s voice was steady—and flat.

Mrs. Quinn’s expression twisted with pain. She wasn’t sure how to comfort her. She squeezed Sol Smith’s hand. “Sol Smith, you’re beautiful and kind. You deserve better.”

Just then, Zamir appeared at the entrance. Mrs. Quinn’s grip tightened reflexively. Sol Smith followed her gaze, and her expression turned to ice.

“Mrs. Quinn, I brought some supplies and groceries for the kids.” Zamir’s voice was calm as he motioned for his assistant to bring in the boxes, his eyes never leaving Sol Smith.

Mrs. Quinn looked at Sol Smith anxiously. “Go ahead, Mrs. Quinn. I’ll be fine,” Sol Smith said.

After a moment’s hesitation, Mrs. Quinn left, leaving the two of them alone.

Zamir stepped closer, all self-assurance, his tall frame casting a shadow over her. “Sol Smith, I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have tried to force you,” he began.

“What’s the point of this now?” Sol Smith’s voice was steady, betraying nothing.

“I know you didn’t mean what you said.” He reached out and grabbed her wrist. Sol Smith tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened. “We care about each other. We shouldn’t be apart. I’ll deal with Carly. I want the wedding to go ahead as planned.”

His handsome face wore a mask of gentle warmth, as if last night’s coercion and his earlier betrayals had been nothing but a bad dream.

Sol Smith let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Zamir, marrying an ‘older woman’ like me—aren’t you afraid you’ll regret it every single day?”

“There will be no wedding. And I won’t forgive you.”

Anger flashed in Zamir’s eyes, and his grip tightened. “I said those things in jest. I didn’t mean them. The fact that you’re upset proves how much you care.”

“Does a two-year adulterer deserve a place in my heart?” Sol Smith wrenched her hand free, her eyes full of open disdain.

Once, Sol Smith had looked at him with warmth and love. Now her gaze held nothing but indifference and disgust.

Unable to stand losing control, Zamir leaned in and dropped his voice to a threat. “Sol Smith, I know you care about the orphanage and the kids. If it were gone, what would happen to them? To Mrs. Quinn?”

Her eyes sharpened. “What are you planning?”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and whispered in her ear, “I just don’t want to lose you. And I don’t want any problems with the wedding.”

He used to be the one who didn’t want marriage. Now he was the one insisting. Did everything have to go his way?

A chill ran through Sol Smith, spreading like ice through her veins. “Zamir, Mrs. Quinn and the children are innocent. You have no right to decide their fate.”

“Sol, you’re mistaken.” His voice was cold, ruthless. “This world runs on survival of the fittest. The people at the bottom—their lives are worth the least. Deciding their fate takes nothing more than a few words from me.”

His gaze locked on hers, a tyrannical warning. “Surely you don’t want them to suffer because of you?”

Sol Smith stared at Zamir like she was looking at a stranger. Shock flickered across her face, followed by distance. Like she had never really known the man standing in front of her.

Memories came rushing back—their first winter near the orphanage. The cold had been brutal, the north wind slicing their skin like icy knives. The children huddled outside with Mrs. Quinn, stomping their feet and rubbing their hands together for warmth. Cheeks flushed, eyes bright with joy.

She remembered Zamir at the gate, his gaze softening as he watched them. He didn’t say a word. He just walked to the bakery down the street and came back with bags of warm spiced honey cakes, handing them out to the kids himself.

Only later did Sol Smith learn that Zamir’s childhood had mirrored theirs.

He’d been an orphan too, raised in a rural home where thin blankets were all that stood between him and the cold. Holidays meant cold bread and salted meat—not feasts.

Once, he’d taken her hand and looked her straight in the eye. “Sol Smith, I know what it’s like to have no one to lean on. I want these kids to feel a little warmth—something I never had.”

Back then, his empathy had been real. His voice had been full of genuine care.

It was that tender side hidden beneath his tough exterior that moved her, made her want to build a life with him.

She’d believed people who survived hardship knew how to recognize kindness and gratitude better than anyone.

Now, the man in front of her was tearing that tenderness apart with cold indifference.

“Zamir,” Sol Smith’s voice trembled with a disappointment so deep it hurt, “do you remember what you said? You understood their loneliness. You wanted to bring those children warmth. And now you’re threatening to destroy their home just to get to me?”

The kindness vanished from Zamir’s face, replaced by something chilling. “That was then. Now is different. Back then, I had nothing—I understood what they were going through. Now I have bigger ambitions. And you, Sol Smith—you’re too softhearted to let those kids suffer.”

Sol Smith looked at him, grief pooling in her eyes. “Zamir, you haven’t just betrayed us. You’ve betrayed yourself—the part of you that once looked for warmth in the cold. You’ve changed so much you don’t even know who you are.”

“People change, Sol Smith. But my love for you remains constant.” Zamir pulled out a set of keys and pressed them into her hand. “I bought the house back. Everything’s waiting for you to come home.”

He gripped her hand and led her to the car.

“Sol…” Mrs. Quinn called after her.

Sol Smith rolled down the window, met Mrs. Quinn’s worried gaze, and gave a small shake of her head.

“Take care of the children. And yourself.”

The words sounded like goodbye.

Mrs. Quinn’s eyes welled up. “You take care, too.”

...

Half an hour later, the car pulled up outside the house in Sandy Bay.

Zamir hurried to open her door. Sol Smith’s expression didn’t change.

Inside, everything was exactly as it had been. The things she’d thrown out were back in place.

Like nothing had ever happened.

“Zamir, what’s the point?” She spoke with her back to him, her voice cold.

Zamir stepped closer and rested his hands gently on her shoulders, his tone as smooth as ever. “You don’t understand business. Those shares are worthless to you. After we’re married, you’ll have everything you want. Just settle into being Mrs. Peterson.”

He set a share transfer agreement in front of her.

Sol Smith turned, her smile sharp and mocking. “What’s done is done, Zamir. Don’t be greedy. People who want everything end up with nothing.”

“Mrs. Peterson doesn’t need to worry.”

His smile was warm, but his eyes were cold. His words cut. “You don’t have to sign. But I can’t guarantee the orphanage will remain untouched.”

“You’re despicable!”

Sol Smith slapped his hands away. Her fingers went white under the pressure, nails digging into her palms. Her eyes blazed—so fierce they nearly consumed the man in front of her.

Zamir’s hands froze. The warmth in his face faded a little, but he stayed confident. He’d found her weak spot.

“Don’t blame me, Sol Smith.”

He reached to touch her face, his voice tinged with false regret. “I’m just afraid of losing you.”

“Even now, you’re lying!”

Sol Smith turned her face away, her voice cold with disappointment. “Are you afraid of losing me—or of me selling the shares and threatening your control over the company?”

In the end, he loved only himself. This was all about trapping her, feeding his need for control.

Then Zamir’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen and cut the call, but it rang again, insistent.

“Aren’t you going to answer? What if it’s urgent?”

Zamir’s face hardened as he answered. Whatever he heard made his expression darken.

“Alright, I’ll come.”

Before leaving, he told Sol Smith, “Think it over. I’ll be back for you tomorrow.”

...

In the hospital room, Carly Perkins was curled up in the corner of her bed. She clutched a pair of scissors in one hand; the other shielded her stomach. She looked like a frightened bird, eyes fierce and protective, letting no one near.

When Zamir entered, she dropped the scissors and stumbled barefoot into his arms, her shoulders shaking.

“Zamir, please let me keep this child. I promise I won’t cause problems or compete with Sol Smith.”

Tears streaked her face, her voice pleading. “Sol Smith won’t let you near her. I’ll give this child to Sol Smith to raise. You need a child of your own.”

She knew Zamir’s priorities.

Sol refused closeness, and Zamir resented it.

Carly had sacrificed everything for him, yet Zamir couldn’t let Sol Smith go.

Otherwise, she wouldn’t have tolerated two years without incident.

She understood better than anyone how cold he could be.

Zamir looked at her tearful, pathetic face. His eyes hardened as he gripped her chin firmly.

“Are you willing?”

“As long as I can be with you, nothing else matters.”

Sol wouldn’t let him near her, and he couldn’t force her. But he did need a child. Carly had stayed with him for two years—obedient, no trouble.

Sol Smith loved children. She showed compassion for those at the orphanage, so she would surely care for a child given to her, raising it as her own.

His grip loosened. His voice held no warmth.

“I’ll take you back. Behave and take care of the baby. Keep this away from Sol.”