In the eighth year of her companionship with Rome Olson for his treatment, Ophelia Olson learned that his long-lost love was returning.

The quiet loft was filled with a soft night breeze.

After their seventh session, Ophelia lay limp in his arms, her body nearly dehydrated. Her mind was foggy until Rome untied her wrists, his voice deep and low: "Amber’s coming back."

Ophelia snapped wide awake.

Amber Bishop, as Rome called her, was his first love and the root of his emotional turmoil. Years ago, Amber had left the country without a word, leaving Rome with severe emotional issues. On the advice of his doctors, the Olson family chose Ophelia to be his companion and aid in his recovery.

To keep up appearances, they adopted her as a foster daughter. Over time, her role shifted from companion to something far more intimate.

Noticing how pale she’d gone, Rome added casually, "She’s not in the best health. I don’t want her getting the wrong idea."

"I understand, brother. I’ll move out soon," Ophelia replied, her lashes fluttering.

Finally, the day had arrived. She was free.

The place she lived in was actually Rome’s private residence, specially remodeled by his family for his comfort—and it had once been Amber’s home. Ophelia had only moved in to help with his recovery. With Amber back, Rome’s condition might improve on its own, and Ophelia was no longer needed. It was time to go.

"I’ve already had my secretary find you an apartment on the West End. You can stay there for now," Rome said with satisfaction, sliding an arm around her waist. His cool fingers brushed her cheek. "Didn’t you say you wanted some jewelry? Just tell me what you want, and I’ll make sure you get it."

"Three hundred thousand," she said. "Just give me three hundred thousand."

Her bluntness didn’t surprise him; he just lifted an eyebrow. "Our Ophelia’s growing up. A little spending money never hurts. As long as you behave, whatever you want, you’ll have."

With a soft chuckle, he pulled her closer. "Don’t worry. You helped heal me—I can’t do without you. The therapy part might end, but you’ll always be part of the Olson family. I’ll look after you forever."

Ophelia frowned slightly, swallowing her discomfort. She held back from shoving him away or letting her decision slip.

Just then, Rome’s phone buzzed.

"Mr. Olson, Miss Amber’s flight is about to land. Will you be picking her up?" The driver’s respectful voice came through.

A gentle warmth flickered in Rome’s eyes, and without missing a beat, he said, "Send me the location—I’m on my way."

Ending the call, he tucked a stray lock of hair behind Ophelia’s ear, murmuring, "Be good, Ophelia. I’m off to bring Amber home. She’s wonderful—you’ll definitely like her."

As he left, Ophelia retreated to her room. Soon, an attendant came upstairs and efficiently cleaned up the small loft’s mess.

Ophelia began packing her things, ready to leave the residence for good. She posted some gifts for sale on a secondhand marketplace, wiped her fingerprints from the apartment, and told the attendant to toss the lavender sachets she’d made for Rome.

"Miss Olson, didn’t you make these specially for Mr. Olson? Are you sure you want to throw them away?" the attendant asked, stunned.

Ophelia shook her head. "Yes, toss them. Mr. Olson won’t be needing them anymore."

Rome had trouble sleeping because of his psychological issues, often keeping her up through the night. No matter how she begged, he wouldn’t ease up. To help him sleep, Ophelia had learned old home remedies and crafted the sachets. But now, with the person who had kept him awake coming back, those sachets were useless.

Maybe as compensation, Rome’s promised transfer came through right after she finished packing.

"Get yourself whatever you like."

Staring at the transaction notice, Ophelia let herself smile—a light, carefree smile. What Rome didn’t know was that this three hundred thousand was meant to mark the final end between them.

Right then, Kenia Burke’s call came through.

"Sweetheart, are you really ready to come back to the countryside with me?"

"Aunt Kenia, I am. Mom’s gone, and my reason for staying here is long gone too. Besides, I want to see Grandpa for Mom’s sake," Ophelia said, gently touching the only thing her mother had left her—a small keepsake. She was filled with resolve.

She had no intention of moving to the West End.

She had put up with so much, at first for her mother’s sake. She’d taken on the role of companion in Rome’s house, bowing to circumstances because of her.

Her mother had passed away just a week ago. The moment it happened, the idea of leaving the city and going back to the countryside took root.

Ophelia remembered her mother’s story—how she’d been coerced into following Franco Adams to the city. She died wishing she could’ve gone back, desperate for one last look at her own father.

With Amber’s arrival, Ophelia now had a powerful reason to finally leave.

On the other end, Kenia’s voice was heavy with worry. "But won’t the Adams family try to hold you back? Even a washed-up businessman like Franco might refuse to let you go…"

"They won’t, Aunt Kenia. Without Mom, there’s nothing left they can use against me. I’m set on going back to the countryside."

Ophelia was sick of a life of compliance, dependence, and being a stand-in.

The glamorous front outsiders saw was nothing but numbness and disgust to her.

She ended the call, grabbed a cab, and left Westhill Residence, the road lined with winding oaks.

Her thoughts drifted back to when she was fourteen, just arrived at the Olson family.

Back then, the Burke family’s money troubles had pushed Franco, desperate for any advantage, to use her as a bargaining chip. She’d resisted until he threatened to cut off her mother’s medical care.

She’d had no choice but to join the Olson family as Rome’s companion.

As fate would have it, that very day, Rome’s Collie went berserk. Ophelia risked her own safety to pull him from the dog’s jaws.

Afterward, Rome looked her over, saw the resemblance to Amber, and said three words.

"I want her."

From that moment on, she was no longer just the Adams’ illegitimate child—she became an adopted daughter of the Olson family and a stand-in for Amber.

Throughout Rome’s treatment, she showed unfailing patience, even when his emotions swung wildly after Amber left. His possessiveness and control were terrifying; even stepping away for a second could set him off.

Over time, his dependence on her grew.

Eventually, he indulged her every whim.

The social circles buzzed with stories of his devotion, everyone assuming she was deeply in love with him too.

But no one knew that even if the prince held half the city in his hand, he still couldn’t treat others as equals.

Ophelia went back to her old apartment and stored her belongings there, knowing Rome would soon figure out she wasn’t moving to the West End.

But getting out from under Rome’s influence was the most important thing before she left.

Besides, with Amber back, even if Rome noticed, he probably wouldn’t push too hard.

The next afternoon, she visited an art exhibit to pull her submissions.

The exhibit manager was shocked. "Miss Olson, are you sure you want to withdraw from this show? This opportunity is incredibly rare."

"No need," Ophelia said.

Backing out would delay Rome realizing she was leaving.

The manager hesitated. "But if Mr. Olson finds out…"

"It’s fine. He’ll agree."

After all, his focus was elsewhere now.

Sure enough, not long after leaving the exhibit hall, the manager called back. "Miss Olson, your withdrawal request was approved by Mr. Olson, though he didn’t realize it was yours."

"Got it," Ophelia said, voice steady.

By the time Rome noticed she'd bailed on the art exhibition and left Westhill, she'd already be halfway to the mainland.

After leaving the exhibit, Ophelia started gathering her documents to head back to the mainland. That same day, the news exploded with headlines about Rome reigniting his flame with local celeb Amber Bishop. Their old relationship got dragged back into the spotlight, with airport candids plastered across every major paper.

Ophelia glanced at the photos of them side by side, then quietly burned the albums holding her memories with Rome. She also handed over Rome's medical records to the family shrink.

As she was leaving the Olson mansion, she unexpectedly ran into Amber Bishop, who was visiting Daxton Olson.

Ophelia froze.

The woman stood a few feet away, decked out in a custom Victorian-style dress, oozing grace and vitality. Her eyes flickered with brief surprise at seeing Ophelia.

"Who's this, Gran?" Amber asked.

"Mrs. Olson took Ophelia in as Rome's foster sister, hoping they'd be a good influence on each other. Ophelia's family was struggling, and folks see her as some kind of gold digger clinging to Rome for comfort, so Mrs. Olson decided to take her in," the housekeeper announced loudly, no filter whatsoever. "Now that you're back, Rome'll get better, and she won't matter..."

Ophelia was used to it. In all the years she'd been with Rome, she'd heard way worse from the staff.

She'd once mentioned it to Rome, but he just glanced at her and brushed it off, "Ophelia, behave. That's one of Amber's old pals."

Bringing it up again would've been petty.

Even though she was supposed to be the Olson family's foster daughter, the staff never saw her as anything but temporary.

Rome let the housekeeper's rudeness slide, so why would anyone else give a damn?

Amber listened, then turned to Ophelia with pity. "Miss Olson, I know Rome can be a handful. It must've been tough dealing with him all these years."

Just then, Rome walked in, wearing a coat that cost more than most people's cars and a wristwatch worth a fortune. The Olson family's money gave him an air of effortless elegance and exclusivity.

He spoke to Ophelia like it was nothing. "Sister, what brings you here? Shouldn't you be gearing up for the art show?"

The way he called her "sister" was so casual, like the whole incident in the loft last night had never happened.

Ophelia knew he wasn't happy she'd shown up at the Olson home.

Rome was a control freak like no other. He'd arranged for her to move out, setting her up in the West End. But she'd gone back to her own apartment, straight-up defying him.

Maybe he was irritated. And on top of that, he probably didn't want Amber to see her here.

Amber gave him a playful nudge. "Miss Olson is your foster sister—why wouldn't she be at her own house? Or are you scared she'll spill all your secrets from over the years?"

"Making a mountain out of a molehill," Rome muttered, draping a coat over Amber's shoulders, his tone light. "You've been overseas so long, you missed picking up any open-mindedness, but you sure kept your usual fussiness."

Despite his words, all Ophelia saw in his gaze was pure indulgence.

How did she feel?

Of course it hurt.

After all, one of the reasons Rome had chosen her was because she resembled Amber.

Driven by her mom's situation, she'd had no choice but to go along. What ate at her more than being treated like a plaything was the fact that everyone saw her as nothing but a stand-in.

Now that the real deal was back, all dazzling and bright, she felt smaller than ever.

Amber, seemingly oblivious, linked her arm with Ophelia's warmly. "Miss Olson, you're practically my sister too. In a few days, Rome's throwing a card game with some friends. It'll be boring with just them—come hang with us."

Ophelia wasn't into that kind of forced closeness, but Amber smiled and added, "In families like ours, if you start off rough, you gotta be in the know. You can't be an Olson daughter if you don't even know how to play cards."

It was a subtle challenge, and Ophelia met it with a smile. "Alright, I'll be there."

She had nothing to lose by playing along.

Amber nodded, her smile polite but with a sharp, icy glint in her eyes.

She'd just gotten back and had stuff to take care of, so Rome had his driver take Amber home first before dealing with Ophelia.

In the elegant courtyard, light and shadows danced, showcasing the city's signature architecture and gardens.

Rome stood with the light behind him, lifting Ophelia's chin. "My secretary told me you didn't move to the West End. You upset about something?"

His tone was calm, but the dominance was undeniable.

Ophelia instinctively stepped back and said softly, "No, the place I'm at now works better for my painting."

He toyed with a lighter, studying her like he was trying to read her mind.

After a beat, he tapped her jaw like you'd pet a favorite cat, his voice laced with something unreadable. "I thought maybe our Ophelia was getting a little jealous."

"Miss Bishop is lovely. She's perfect for you, brother," Ophelia said, and she meant it after meeting Amber.

Amber was vibrant, sharp, and radiated an unmistakable life force. Despite her background, she stood out like a beacon of strength and vitality.

Rome seemed to frown ever so slightly, then let her go, his expression going cold. "What she's like is none of your business. I don't give a damn where you live, but you check in with me every day."

Before Ophelia could answer, his secretary appeared. "Mr. Olson, your guests have arrived."

"Ophelia, don't go comparing yourself to Amber. You're in different lanes in my life," Rome said, touching her cheek, holding her gaze.

With Amber back, he had a lot on his plate. The family's old ties were coming back to life.

Moving Ophelia out had been his call, but he wasn't about to let her go.

He'd raised her up; she was supposed to stay close.

He turned and walked off to greet his guests, leaving Ophelia staring after him, more determined than ever to leave.

To everyone else, Rome seemed untouchable—a man who controlled half the city. But deep down, he was seriously messed up, with a need for control that bordered on obsession.

His thing for her wasn't love.

He never actually saw her as her own person.

She was at his beck and call, coming and going whenever he felt like it.

Thank God she'd never really loved him either.

To avoid any last-minute drama before leaving the city, Ophelia made sure to send Rome daily updates like clockwork.

She knew if Rome decided to clamp down, and the Olson family actually threw their weight around, getting back to the mainland would be impossible.

But she could grin and bear it for one more month.

While Rome got caught up with Amber, business deals, and hanging out with his childhood buddy Diego Nelson, Ophelia headed back to the Adams estate.

There, going through her mother's belongings, she noticed a few things were missing and suspected her family had swiped them.

She confronted Franco Adams about it.

Because of Rome's influence, Franco danced around the subject, claiming the stuff was old and lost, promising to have the housekeeper look for it.

Annoyed by the runaround, she pushed harder, which caught the attention of her half-sister, Eve Hudson, who casually dropped a hint.

"Sis, I heard Amber Bishop is back in Rome's world. Dad sent you there to lock Rome down and get the Adams family some pull. Don't screw it up."

"When the sun goes down in this city, most of the lights and billboards have the Olson name on them. If Rome threw us even a crumb of attention, we'd be living off leftovers for life."

That's when Ophelia realized the family was using those missing items to keep her on a leash.

Sure enough, the Adams family had bounced back a little, all thanks to her role as an Olson foster daughter.

But with the media going nuts over Amber, her family was panicking, pushing her to stay glued to Rome.

Ophelia was used to the never-ending mind games. In the family WhatsApp group, she typed, "Tell Franco Adams if I don't get my mother's stuff back within three days, I'll have Rome Olson step in personally." Fighting fire with fire—she'd picked up that trick living with the Olsons, learning to navigate their world of influence.

Even though she hated the idea, she had no choice but to show up at the poker game tonight. Until she got her mother's belongings back, she had to keep playing the part with Rome.

The next day, the parking lot of the swanky Brightview Clubhouse was packed with high-end cars—Rolls-Royces, Teslas, you name it, all worth a fortune. Rome climbed out of his usual Phantom just as Ophelia pulled up.

Amber Bishop was right on Rome's heels, chatting him up. Her designer wrap hung elegantly over her slim figure, and honestly? They looked like the perfect couple. Chen Jin and Fu Qi, Rome's buddies, were there too. Ophelia knew them a little, though Fu was usually the quiet type.

Chen, on the other hand, was always the friendly one. He walked over with a teasing smirk. "Ophelia, didn't think Rome would drag you out tonight. He used to keep you under wraps, always talking about setting you up with some guy…"

"Cut the crap," Fu cut in. "Menzies is here tonight. Stay sharp."

Ophelia froze. Menzies? Here?

The Menzies family was weird for this city—they did most of their business abroad. They never rubbed elbows with the local elite and didn't give a damn about high society. Menzies himself was a real piece of work—a notorious gambler with a sleazy rep, having destroyed plenty of women.

Even a social butterfly like Chen yawned and muttered, "If Rome didn't need to tap into his North American connections, nobody would give this guy the time of day. Ophelia, just stick with us tonight. Rome told us to watch out for you."

Ophelia nodded and murmured a quiet thanks, but her eyes drifted over to Amber nearby. Bathed in the October moonlight, Amber looked like a dream in that Victorian-style gown—like she was the moon itself.

Rome was holding her hand, guiding her inside step by careful step.

No wonder the local press called her Rome's jewel.

He'd never treated Ophelia that gently—not even in his softest moments.

She tore her gaze away and followed Chen upstairs.

It was her first time on the eighteenth floor—a place that wasn't just about poker tables, but was lined with every kind of fancy liquor you could imagine.

After knocking back a few rounds, they all moved to the card tables.

As the games went on, it came down to just Menzies and Rome. On the last hand, Menzies threw out, "Sick of betting properties and shares. Let's keep it simple—how about we wager on a drink?"

Rome hesitated, his hand hovering over his cards, and looked up.

Menzies' gaze landed on Amber next to Rome, a sly grin spreading across his face. "I know I shouldn't be eyeing what isn't mine. Everyone knows Miss Amber is your precious treasure, Rome, but I've always had a thing for her. If you lose, how about you let her share a drink with me tonight?"

"No worries. Win or lose, I'll give you the intel on Mr. Smith," Menzies tacked on.

Everyone knew just how much Amber meant to Rome.

The moment Menzies said that, the air got thick with tension, but Rome stayed cool as ever. "Fine," he said.

Ophelia's brows knitted together.

She remembered people always saying Rome was emotionally detached—ruthless underneath that polished surface. Would he really put Amber on the line?

They laid their cards down, and the final showdown was on.

Unfortunately for Rome, Menzies had the upper hand. He flipped the last card—a King of Hearts—and smirked. "Tough luck, Rome. Guess Miss Amber's having that drink with me after all."

Everyone knew what having a drink with Menzies really meant.

Amber went ghostly pale. She chewed her lip, clearly freaked.

"Rome, I—"

Rome stayed silent.

Menzies goaded, "You're not backing out now, are you, Rome? One drink for the North American pipeline—you're hitting the jackpot."

"Not a chance," Rome replied coolly. "Just one thing—you said you wanted to have a drink with my sweetheart. You might've got the wrong person."

Menzies raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued.

Ophelia felt her stomach drop, a chill running through her. And sure enough, Rome's gaze flicked her way, motioning her over. Her blood turned to ice.

She forced her legs to move toward him, every step heavy with dread.

His voice was casual. "All these years, the only person who's ever been dear to me is Ophelia. Wrong ID, Menzies."

Those words sent a cold wave crashing through Ophelia's body.

Then she heard him: "Come here, Ophelia. Have a drink with Mr. Menzies."

Ophelia bit down on her tongue until she tasted blood, something inside her chest shattering.

Cold. So damn cold.

No wonder he'd agreed to bring her along.

No wonder he'd been willing to gamble Amber.

He'd planned it from the start—let her take the fall for his real love.

Ophelia found the whole thing darkly hilarious.

After years of Rome's "care," he'd lose control sometimes, put her through hell when he was in a bad mood, then finish it off with exaggerated sweetness.

Sure, he was naturally cold and ruthless, but those rare flickers of kindness had been enough to make her believe he might actually care—just a little. Enough to help her survive this cutthroat social jungle.

But now, here he was, bringing the storm straight to her doorstep.

"Ophelia?"

Menzies' eyes locked on her, a new spark of interest flickering in them.

Menzies had a notorious weakness for pretty faces.

Amber's appeal was all lively and bubbly.

But Ophelia just stood there, silent—her big doe eyes glistening, those cherry lips and porcelain skin glowing under the early winter moon. One look was enough to hook any man.

Even the city's most talked-about beauties couldn't hold a candle to her.

At first, Menzies had been pissed that Rome was offering up his foster daughter, but now? His interest was definitely piqued.

"Why haven't I noticed you before, Rome? She's even more stunning than Miss Amber. You're actually willing to share?"

He shot Amber a knowing look. "Then again, how could a foster daughter ever compete with the one who really holds your heart?"

He smirked, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Miss Ophelia, the drink is ready. After you."

Everybody knew Menzies' rep.

Ophelia clenched her fists and finally met Rome's eyes, her voice barely a whisper. "Do I have to?"

Rome's stare was intense but completely dead inside—cold and distant.

"It's just one drink, Ophelia. Don't make a scene."

Amber let out a relieved breath, shooting her an apologetic glance. "Miss Ophelia, I'm allergic to alcohol, but don't worry—Menzies just really loves his drinks. He won't give you any trouble."

She looked genuinely innocent, like she had no clue what was really going on.