"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.

Ophelia's face went ashen. She wanted to refuse, but without Rome's permission, who in this city would dare let her leave? Without his say-so, she couldn't collect her mother's belongings, couldn't even walk out of the city. She had no choice but to bide her time, waiting for the right moment to slip away.

Drawing a deep breath, Ophelia followed Baylor into the lounge. As she brushed past Chen, he caught her hand and discreetly pressed a small knife into her palm.

Moments later, the lounge door swung wide. Baylor held out a glass. "Miss Olson, try the special cocktail I had mixed just for you."

Ophelia regarded the drink, her voice cutting through the hush like a blade. "Mr. Gibson, you've seen a lot in your time and you're not the type to strong-arm anyone. I never took you for a man who enjoys forcing a woman."

"It's just a drink," Baylor shrugged. "We had a bet going. I might get a kick out of stealing something from Rome, but that doesn't mean I'd hassle a lady."

Reassured just enough, Ophelia downed the drink fast.

Baylor's interest sharpened. "You know, you're way more fascinating than Amber. Why not ditch Rome and join me instead?"

But Ophelia's fleeting relief twisted into panic as a storm erupted inside her. Baylor's voice faded to a distant buzz. She knew the drink had been spiked.

Baylor frowned, about to speak again, but Ophelia bit down on her lip, whipped out the knife, and stabbed it straight into her thigh. As blood bloomed through the fabric, she grabbed the bottle and smashed it over Baylor's head, the shatter bringing her senses back for a split second.

"I don't like you, and I don't like Rome," she spat. "You both treat women like toys, like I'm nothing but something to play with."

Before Baylor could even react, Ophelia stumbled out of the room. Her legs wobbled, still sluggish from the drug, but she used every ounce of strength to make it outside the club.

Near the entrance, her vision blurred and then landed on the familiar shape of a Rolls-Royce Phantom. As she faltered, the scent of cedar wrapped around her and Rome bent down to scoop her up, his voice calm and detached. "Call Dr. Fu."

"And let that idiot from the Gibson family know the Alps project is his," Rome added smoothly, his words slicing through the haze as Ophelia slipped into unconsciousness.

She woke in a high-rise apartment. The dose in Baylor's little concoction had been light—meant more for seduction than anything else. After the doctor worked on her, her body recovered, except for the knife wound in her leg.

When she cracked her eyes open, she overheard Chen and Rome talking about European business connections. "The crap Baylor spilled might actually be useful. Once we lock down Europe, the family elders will be green with envy. But poor Ophelia—she seemed so meek, yet she stabbed herself and took Baylor down like that."

"Are you sweet on her?" Rome asked, his voice flat.

Chen knew Rome's moods inside out and waved the idea away. "More pity than anything. Now that Amber's back, just let the girl go. She deserves her own life. Marry Amber, and keep Ophelia on the side if you have to. Oh, and that protective charm blessed by the master for Amber? Three million. A pretty generous move on your part."

Ophelia lay frozen, listening to every word, her stomach churning. Eyes shut, her lashes fluttered, giving away the turmoil inside—a bruising mix of defiance and despair.

Rome's words haunted her—she wasn't as important as Amber. Yet he wouldn't let her go, kept her leashed to him. Why?

He wouldn't let her leave, and whenever it suited him, he used her to shield his precious true love from blame. In his eyes, what was she? A pawn he could toss aside whenever he felt like it?

She had watched her mother suffer up close, trapped in Franco Adams' snare, forced into a life she never wanted. Ophelia swore she would never follow that same path. No matter what, she'd break free from Rome's grip.

After Chen left, Rome noticed Ophelia had come around. "Awake?" His voice stirred her from her daze, and she slowly opened her eyes.

Steadying herself, she answered, "Brother."

Rome looked away, handing her a bowl of oatmeal. "You feeling okay?"

Ophelia shook her head and took the bowl.

Rome reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair from her face, his touch featherlight, and said softly, "What happened that day had its reasons. Chen and the others have handled everything. No one's going to hurt you. If Baylor gave you trouble, I'll deal with him, alright?"

Her hand trembled a little around the bowl, lashes casting shadows to hide the irony burning in her eyes. Baylor was scum, but wasn't Rome just as bad? He'd nearly thrown her to the wolves for his cherished one. Even now, with his reassurances, she no longer wanted a life decided by someone else.

"Thank you, brother," Ophelia replied quietly. "Miss Bishop is safe. That's what matters."

Rome kept his eyes on her, dark and unreadable, burning with a fierce, stubborn intensity.

"I figured you'd be upset."

"Not at all." Ophelia paused, forcing a smile. "If you feel bad about it, come with me to Dad's birthday soon."

She meant Franco Adams. In this world, power played a bigger role than feelings. Ophelia saw the whole ugly incident as leverage to reclaim her mother's belongings.

Rome's mood lifted, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. "Alright."

His agreement brought Ophelia a wave of relief. She was about to speak when Rome's phone buzzed, the name "Amber" lighting up the screen.