Steven saw me glaring at Nellie and yanked me up off the floor.

“Nellie’s milk came in. She’s gone through a pile of dirty clothes. You’re going to wash them. By hand. Then you can leave.”

I jerked my arm free. “Why would I do that?”

He replied, “Because you just bullied her. You owe her an apology.”

I forced myself upright despite the searing pain in my foot. “Keep dreaming.”

His eyes iced over. Without another word, he shoved me into the bathroom.

Bang!

The door slammed behind me—and locked.

“Steven! Are you kidding me?! This is illegal—you're actually locking me in!” I twisted the handle, yanking it hard. “Let me out! Open the door!”

I slammed my palms against the wood. Silence outside. My hand stung from the impact. My foot throbbed with pain.

The room reeked—sour breast milk, dirty laundry and vomit. It was suffocating. I eventually slid to the floor, knees giving out, completely drained.

Then came Nellie’s voice—soft, sugary and fake—muffled through the door.

“Mr. Grant… are you sure this is okay? What if Lucia gets mad at you for this?”

Steven let out a cold laugh. “So what if she does? I’ll sweet-talk her later.”

“Honestly? This is her own fault. If she doesn’t drop that spoiled princess attitude, she won’t last a day married into the Grants.”

“Our family has served in the military for generations. If I weren’t the only heir to the Grant Enterprises, my mother never would’ve let me marry some pampered rich girl with no skills but spending money.”

Nellie’s voice was dripping with fake concern. “Mr. Grant… if you talk about Lucia like that, aren’t you afraid she’ll break off the engagement?”

A pause. Then Steven’s voice came slightly arrogant, “She won’t. She’s got no inheritance, no power, no better options. The Grants are the best she can do.”

He added, “Besides… she loves me like crazy. I bet if I told her to die for me, she’d actually do it.”

I clutched my chest tightly. Never had I imagine Steven would blurt out such words.

The Harts have been in business for generations—which means we’ve always had a target on our backs.

Six years ago, Mom and I were traveling abroad when we were ambushed. A group of armed men grabbed her, pressed a gun to her temple.

I screamed myself hoarse, thinking I was about to watch my mother die.

Then, a sharp crack cut through the air. One clean shot. The man dropped dead on the spot.

That’s when I saw him—Steven—gun still warm in his hand, uniform crisp, broad-shouldered and all sharp lines, moving with lethal precision. He didn’t just save us. He stole my heart that day.

Later, in the back of a military SUV, I saw his face clearly—angular jaw, high-bridged nose, impossibly handsome. I fell in love at first sight.

I chased him for a year before he finally gave in and agreed to date me.

We were together for five years. I hung on his every word. But all of my sincerity was met with betrayal.

It’s almost laughable.

The bathroom door creaked open.

Steven stepped in, saw me crouched on the floor—pale, trembling. His face twisted in annoyance. “It’s just laundry, Lucia. Stop acting pathetic. Who are you trying to guilt-trip?”

The sour burn of bile rose in my throat. I forced it down, swallowing the nausea. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

I started searching the floor—looking for the one thing that still mattered. My mother's pocket watch. It was torn to pieces. I picked them up, one by one.

Behind me, Steven’s voice cut through the silence. “When Nel finishes her recovery, we’re getting married. She’ll move in with us.”

Nellie turned to me, casting me her grateful look. “Lucia, thank you for accepting me and the baby. I’ll never forget your kindness—”

I cut her off, not even sparing her a glance. I turned to Steven, voice cold.

“No. We’re not living together. I’m taking my mother’s things. Text me the door code—I’ll have movers pick up the rest.”

Steven pressed a string of numbers on the lockpad while looking at me with disdain. “You’re making a big scene. But in the end, you’ll come crawling back.”

Nellie tugged gently on his sleeve and said in a meek voice, “Mr. Grant… the bedroom…”

His gaze flickered. Then, without asking, he took her hand and led her into my car.

He then told me, “I’m coming with you. Just to make sure you don’t take anything you shouldn’t.”

I didn’t realize until we got home why he was so insistent on coming back with me.

The second I stepped inside, it hit me. Adult toys scattered across the living room sofa. Candles on the dining table—clearly not the scented kind. Then, in the bedroom, I saw handcuffs bolted to both the headboard and footboard.

The whole place reeked of sex and cheap perfume.

While I was out handling my mother’s funeral, Steven and Nellie were playing house in every corner of my home.

I stepped into the walk-in closet and the shock kept coming. My jewelry was tossed across the floor. Several of my Hermès bags were just… gone.

Nellie trailed behind me, lips curled in a smug little smile. “Lucia, missing anything?”

She wanted a reaction.

Too bad. I simply smiled.

“Mistresses will be mistresses. Petty theft and playing victim—classic moves.”

Her eyes flashed. “You—!”

She suddenly gasped, clutched her stomach and collapsed onto the floor. “Lucia… I haven’t even fully healed from giving birth… Why are you hitting me?!”

Steven stormed in and rushed to her side. He was clearly furious and so he slapped me without warning.

“Lucia! I've spoiled you for too long. You think the world owes you everything?!”

My cheek lit up with pain, swelling almost instantly. Blood rushed to my head. My temples throbbed. I was shaking.

“I didn’t touch her!” I shouted.

Steven didn’t believe me. He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me out of the closet, pushing me to the floor.

“Get out. Go home and cry to your family. You can come back once you’ve learned some humility.”

The humiliation burned hotter in me. I couldn't let Nellie got what she wanted. In sudden move, I got up and marched straight over to Nellie and returned the favor.

Smack!

Steven raised his hand again, eyes blazing with rage.

I stood my ground, jaw clenched, staring him down. “That slap? That one was mine.”

Then I soon turned, walking away. My pride in pieces, my eyes burning with tears I didn’t want to cry out.

Outside, the rain was pouring heavily. It pelted down on me as I sank to the ground, sobbing so hard I couldn’t breathe.

I don’t know how long I sat there. But eventually, I noticed the rain wasn’t hitting me anymore.

I looked up.

Jaxon was standing there, holding an umbrella over me, face drawn with concern. He didn’t say anything at first, just extending a hand where he held an umbrella.

“Lucia. Come on. Let me take you home.”

Back at the Browns’ estate, everything felt achingly familiar. The courtyard, the smell of the garden after the rain… Even the housekeeper, who’d been there since we were kids.

I couldn’t help but think of the past.

Jaxon’s mother and mine had been best friends since they were young; The kind who swore they'd be in-laws someday.

They’d arranged a childhood engagement between us. But back then, I fought with my mom constantly. And because of that, I pushed away everyone close to her—including little Jaxon and Paula, his mother.

By middle school, I had left for Milan to study art.

Jaxon was sent to the UK for business school.

We went our separate ways. And the next time I saw him?

It was at my mother’s funeral.

I was lost in thought when Paula appeared, holding a steaming cup of ginger tea.

Without a word, she pulled me into a tight embrace, “That boy—Jaxon! He let you get soaked like this, huh? Let Mom give him a piece of my mind.”

“Mom?” I blinked, confused.

Jaxon coughed awkwardly, turning his head away. “I’ll go find you something dry to wear.”

As he slipped out of the room, Paula chuckled and handed me the tea.

“Jaxon already told us—said the two of you are getting married soon. So yes, sweetheart, you'd better start calling me Mom.”

“Oh, I’ve been waiting for this day for so long,” Paula commented. “Let’s keep the date your mother chose, okay? No changes.”

The date she meant… was next month. It was supposed to be the day I married Steven.

The ginger tea in my hands slowly warmed me from the inside out. My chest tightened. My eyes stung.

The next day, Jaxon brought over everything we needed for the wedding. I thought with the date so close, we’d be scrambling. That we’d have to recycle the old plan I’d worked on for months with Steven.

But no. Jaxon had handled it all, so I don't need to worry about it at all. It was clear how serious he was.

Meanwhile, Steven…

Even after five years together, he still wouldn't have proposed if I hadn’t pushed him. What's more, I planned every detail of the wedding myself.

Love and indifference—it’s not hard to tell the difference when you stop making excuses. As I thought of it, I called the old wedding planner and canceled everything.

Not even a minute later, my phone rang again.

It was Steven’s mother.

“Lucia, have you completely lost your mind? You think you can just cancel a wedding like that? What did Steven do this time? Can’t you stop being so dramatic for once? Honestly—only someone like my Steven would even consider marrying a girl like you.”

The Grants had never really accepted me.

I used to think Steven’s mother was just tough on the outside, soft on the inside. That maybe, deep down, she did like me. But after what I overheard at the postnatal recovery center, I stopped fooling myself.

I answered calmly, “Steven and I have broken up, Mrs. Grant. Isn't calling the wedding’s off the right to do?”

“Broken up? What is it this time—did you upset him again? Then apologize! You're a woman, aren't you? You should know how to keep your man happy. No one else—"

I hung up. I was done being talked down to like that.

The next morning, Jaxon took me to try on wedding dresses. Midway through, he stepped outside for a work call and told me to go ahead without him.

I slipped into the gown he had specially flown in from Italy and turned towards the mirror.

When I heard movement behind me, I turned out of reflex and smiled, “What do you think? Do I look good?”

For a split second, I saw something like awe flash through Steven’s eyes. But then I also noticed Nellie stepping out from another fitting room.

Steven’s expression darkened immediately. He strode over and yanked the veil from my head.

“Oh, I see how it is,” he sneered. “You’re the one who called off the wedding and now here you are trying on dresses in secret? Playing hard to get, is that it? You think this is all some fun little game?”

His hand moved fast. The veil was torn off in a single jerk. The pins dug into my skin—one of them grazed my cheek. Blood welled up instantly, staining the couture dress I was wearing.

I winced, crying out from the sharp pain. “Steven, I didn’t come here for you!”

Nellie stepped in, her eyes already glistening with tears. “I swear, Lucia, I didn’t mean anything by it. I just wanted to try on a dress and take a photo. A little memory, that’s all. I’m not trying to marry Mr. Grant.”

Steven let out a bitter laugh. “Why bother explaining to someone like her? Lucia, I used to think you were just a little dramatic. I let things slide because I loved you. But this?” He gestured wildly. “This is you ruining our wedding like a selfish brat.”

“Fine,” he snapped. “Forget it. No wedding.”

Then he grabbed at the dress, trying to rip it off me, trying to push me out of the boutique like I didn’t belong there.

I struggled, trying to keep the gown from slipping. Just as he pressed down on my waist and tried to strip the dress from me in front of everyone, Jaxon arrived.

He kicked Steven hard, sending him crashing backward. Then he caught me by the waist, steadying me with one arm.

“My wife is trying on wedding dresses,” he said coldly. “You’re just the ex who should’ve stayed buried underground. Why am I surprised you're the type to make a scene?”