"Congratulations, Ms. McPherson. You're pregnant," the doctor told Eileen McPherson.

As soon as she heard it, she burst into tears.

During the past three years, she'd been trying everything to get pregnant, including all kinds of treatments and several ovulation induction shots. But she always ended up in disappointment.

And now, it had finally happened! Eileen couldn't help weep tears of joy.

Wendy Duran, her attending physician, handed her a tissue. "It's early stage, so we can only confirm the pregnancy. Ms. McPherson, please take extra care of yourself during the first trimester. We'll do more detailed examinations when the fetus grows bigger."

"Thank you." Eileen couldn't wait to share the great news with Fremont Woodward, her husband.

He had been craving a child long before she stepped away from the spotlight.

Finally, their dream had come true!

She took out her phone but then put it back. It was such a big thing, and she wanted to tell him in person.

At this thought, she went to his company without telling anyone.

Walking out of the elevator exclusive to the CEO, she headed straight to the top-floor CEO's office. Knowing Fremont was in his morning stand-up meeting at this hour, she decided to go to his office first to surprise him.

Clutching her bag's strap, she pushed open the office door, her heart racing with excitement and nervous anticipation.

She couldn't help picturing the look on Fremont's face when he learned the news.

Would he cry out in excitement like her?

As the door opened with a beep, the smile on Eileen's face froze.

Fremont sat behind his desk with a woman standing across from him—it was Chelsea Sherman, a C-list actress currently trending due to scandalous rumors with him.

She had been nothing but a nobody scrambling for bit-parts when Eileen had left showbiz.

And now, here she was, in Fremont's office.

An obvious trace of panic flickered in Fremont's eyes as he saw Eileen, and he subconsciously wanted to pull the test report on the desk away.

Eileen's gut told her something was off. She blurted out, "Don't move!"

She strode toward them, and Chelsea explained cautiously, "Eileen, don't get the wrong idea. I was just..."

Ignoring her, Eileen picked up the piece of paper.

It was a pregnancy test report, confirming that Chelsea was seven weeks pregnant, and a fetal heartbeat had been detected.

Immediately, images from the past few weeks reeled through Eileen's mind.

Everything suddenly made sense now—the blurry figure in that photo, and Fremont's confession last night, saying he had made a mistake...

Eileen stood in place, feeling every drop of blood in her body freezing.

Clutching the sheet, she looked up at Fremont's deep eyes and asked in a trembling voice, "Is the baby yours?"

How she wished he'd say no. He loved her so much. How could he ever do this?

But, before he could say anything, Chelsea spoke up, "Eileen, blame me if you want. It's my fault. Mr. Woodward..."

Eileen slapped across her face, cutting her off.

Tears welled up in Eileen's eyes, but she refused to let them drop. She said, trying her best not to sob, "You know he's my husband, but you still slept with him. You deserve this slap."

Fremont showed no intention of defending Chelsea. He stood up, glanced at her, and said, "Go back."

Eileen had never been the unreasonable type. Mistresses were despicable indeed, but it took two to have an affair. She didn't continue to give Chelsea a hard time.

Instead, her gaze fell upon Fremont's striking face. They had grown up in the slums together, with him being the outstanding overachiever with impeccable character and her being the lucky girl who rose to fame in showbiz thanks to her good looks.

She had worked relentlessly, taking all kinds of parts to support his dream. Though her uterus had been hurt during the shooting, Fremont had proposed to her the second she woke up from a coma.

Later, her popularity skyrocketed, and his company thrived.

She quit showbiz on the day she claimed her Best Actress award, willingly stepping down to be the woman supporting him.

She thought they'd be in passionate love and live happily ever after.

Yet, after they had fame, power, and everything, he betrayed her...

Turned out he was no different from other men.

Tears streamed down Eileen's face slowly, blurring her vision. Meanwhile, Fremont took out a contract from the drawer.

Handing it over to her, he explained, "Eily, I'm the baby's father, but I've never slept with her. You'll know after you read this."

It was stated clearly in the contract that Chelsea would receive 3.2 million dollars and resources for bearing his child.

He continued, "Eily, all I did was provide a sperm sample for IVF. I chose her only because she resembles you.

"I thought of using your eggs, but given your frail condition, the extraction process would have been unbearable. Your womb is already damaged, and who knows if the embryo will implant? Even if it did, the risk of miscarriage still existed. I couldn't bear to put you through all that."

As he spoke, he held her hand and added gently, "Eily, it was purely a deal. She'd be gone for good after giving birth. We'll raise the baby. Nothing has changed. OK?"

Eileen slapped him hard. "Fremont, do you really think I can accept the baby of you and another woman? Am I that forgiving in your eyes?

"I told you clearly when we first dated. If you ever love someone else, you must tell me. The only thing I can't stand is betrayal. This is my bottom line."

Flustered a bit, Fremont eagerly tried to explain. "I didn't betray you, Eily. You're the only one I love. Besides, I didn't want to visit her on set that day in the first place. I was there only because she said her belly hurt."

Eileen scoffed, "So, in the following nine months, you'll go to her every time she calls, right?"

"I promise I won't do this again. Eily, I just want a child so badly."

Of course Eileen knew exactly how much he adored kids. That was why she sacrificed everything—just to make his dream come true.

Now, she was finally pregnant, but another woman was bearing his child, too.

How absurd.

Seeing her close her eyes and shed tears, Fremont pulled her into his embrace with distress in his eyes. "Eily, I swear I've never touched her. I'm still yours, both physically and mentally. Forgive me, will you?"

Eileen opened her eyes and asked, "What if I want her to get an abortion?"

Fremont froze, falling silent.

"If you really love me and want our marriage to continue, take her to an abortion. Then I'll forget about everything that happened today."

She loved him. They had been together for eighteen years, and what they had had already transcended friendship and romance. They were family.

To her, those who made a mistake deserved a second chance.

As long as he corrected his mistake, she'd tell him about her pregnancy.

However, in the next second, Fremont said, "Eily, the baby is very important to me."

Eileen laughed through tears.

She broke free from his embrace. Years of life in luxury had never eroded her pride.

Wiping away the tears on her face roughly, she said, "Fremont, you can't have it both ways. I can't accept being betrayed. Since you can't bear to give up the baby, I'll leave so that you can be with her, with the baby. Let's get a divorce."

Fremont grabbed her hand at once. "No way! I'll never divorce you. I..."

She pried his fingers off one by one, lowering her head.

"You've had your chance, Fremont." Her voice was still as gentle as ever, but they were powerful enough to break Fremont's heart.

She tossed Chelsea's pregnancy test report onto his face, the sharp edge cutting his cheek.

Then, she left without looking back.

She returned home, and Fremont followed.

Once stepping inside, she headed straight to the bedroom to pack up. Along the way, everything that came into her view was like a sharp knife, stabbing her heart.

Every corner of this villa held their happiest moments. She slowly took off the wedding ring, her tears dropping onto it before soaking into the black velvet box.

Fremont pressed her hands. "Eily, do you have to do this? I didn't cheat on you. Never. You know how much I love you."

She looked up and saw his bloodshot eyes.

Somehow, she suddenly hoped he had done something worse. It'd make leaving so much easier, sparing her from great heartache.

Now, she was forced to put an end to their relationship, to stab herself in the weakest spot again and again.

She said, her voice hoarse, "Fremont, one's gotta be punished for one's mistakes."

She left with nothing but a few everyday clothes in her suitcase on this late autumn day.

Fremont stopped her by the car. "If you don't wanna see me, I'll leave. Where are you supposed to go?"

Another second in that villa filled with their beautiful memories was sheer torture.

If she stayed, she'd recall everything he had done for her, and she might waver.

She said, "I'm not a baby. I won't do anything stupid."

Prying his fingers off again, she added, "Fremont, let's take some space."

With that, she got into the car, closed the door, and started the engine.

Standing on the roadside, Fremont gazed at the car vanishing into the distance, his eyes filled with agony and affection. "Eily, you promised you wouldn't leave me..." he murmured.

If it were before, Eileen would have thrown herself into his arms without hesitation.

But she didn't stop. The second his figure shrank to a mere dot, tears flooded down her face uncontrollably.

She clutched the steering wheel so hard that her nails dug into the cover. "Keep going forward. Don't look back..." she told herself repeatedly.

Eileen was like strong liquor.

It delivered one razor-sharp pain sliding down the throat, yet one would only crave it more with each swallow.

Eileen had that kind of wild, unruly beauty, making every man want to conquer her.

Fremont knew it better than anyone. It was precisely why he expanded his business empire so eagerly—he wanted to be powerful enough to protect her, to outshine every other man, and to be the only one who deserved her.

Now, as he finally could protect her perfectly, he drove her away. How did things come to this?

Staying in their bedroom, he traced over every piece of her jewelry gently.

He could still see her twirling in front of him in the dress she loved the most.

Others deemed her as a rose for her wild beauty, and he was the only one who knew how gentle and sweet she was.

He lit a cigarette but soon stubbed it out.

Though she wasn't with him now, he didn't want to stain their bedroom even the slightest.

Then he went back to the study. Alfred McCann, his assistant, reported to him, "Mrs. Woodward has just checked in at Crowvale Hotel. According to my source, she's reached out to her friends in showbiz, wanting to make a comeback."

Fremont tapped the cigarette, the smoke obscuring his face, making his expression unreadable. "Get the word out and make sure she doesn't get any roles."

Alfred was stunned. He had stayed by Fremont's side for years, knowing Fremont had always doted on her, giving her everything she wanted.

"Mr. Woodward, Mrs. Woodward is upset. Instead of coaxing her back, you make things difficult for her. Aren't you worried you'll push her further away?"

Fremont said, "I'm forcing her back. It's been three years since she quit, and things in showbiz have long changed. She's been living under my protection all this time, and there's no way she could handle the vultures out there. Soon, she'll understand I'm the one who loves her the most and the only person who can shield her from anything unpleasant."

The smoke cleared, revealing his icy face.

Suddenly, it dawned on Alfred that more than a man who loved his wife, Fremont was a ruler with the utmost power.

In nowadays world, power meant everything.

"Alfred, warn Chelsea and put her in her place. If she dares to cross the line again, I'll make sure she regrets it."

His icy tone sent a chill down Alfred's spine. "OK, Mr. Woodward."

Eileen settled into the hotel room. As she thought back, she realized that during the past few years, her world had shrunk to only two pursuits—Fremont and getting pregnant.

She had never regretted her decision to leave showbiz at her peak.

But now, it struck her that it was a horrible mistake pinning all her hope on one man.

She called a few directors, but they all turned her down.

Only then did she realize that from the moment Fremont swayed her to quit, he had severed her path entirely.

He wouldn't let her have a chance to come back. All he wanted was for her to be with him like a pet.

Not long ago, he had transferred all her money with the excuse that he was facing a cash flow shortage. Now, her card balance was a mere 8,000 dollars.

She could stay in the presidential suite for three more nights.

He wanted to force her home in three days!

A gust of late autumn wind blew from the balcony, giving her goosebumps.

Her husband actually had been treating her like his business rival.

She suddenly realized why he had the audacity to have a child with another woman.

He thought by cutting her way out, he'd get to manipulate her however he wanted, and she'd be left totally vulnerable.

She was so glad that he didn't know about her pregnancy. He'd want both babies, which made it even harder for her to get a divorce.

Deep down, she was certain that Fremont and Chelsea's relationship wouldn't stop in nine months. After giving birth, Chelsea would stay in contact with him by using the child as an excuse.

Though Fremont might not realize it, she knew Chelsea was testing her out—the two being photographed on set and Chelsea's appearance in his office yesterday weren't coincidences.

If she turned a blind eye to her standards and accepted Chelsea and their child, she'd have to endure being disgusted for the rest of her life.

Chelsea was like a stained bedsheet in a hotel room one had just checked into.

It wasn't fatal, but it was disgusting enough.

Fremont loved her, and she knew that. But who could say for sure that he wouldn't fall for Chelsea—the mother of his child—sometime in the future?

Was she supposed to fight with Chelsea to win his favor for the rest of her life? Imagine how miserable that kind of life would be.

After pondering, Eileen made a difficult decision. Since Fremont wouldn't take Chelsea to an abortion, she'd get rid of her own baby.

The biggest mistake she had ever made in her life was throwing away everything for a man, and she was fed up with being a pampered pet.

If she kept the baby, it'd be the chain that tied her to that villa forever. She'd spend the rest of her life waiting and begging him to love her.

She stroked her belly, which was still flat, and smiled bitterly, "I'm so sorry, baby. Be smart next time, OK? Don't choose women like me to be your mommy again."

After knowing she was pregnant, she searched online for a baby name for so long that she was almost blind.

She had thought of over a hundred names, each carrying her blessings for the baby. Yet, it turned out it was just a waste of time.

"Baby, I brought you to this world, yet I'm also the person who's gonna take you away. Make sure you find a more responsible mommy next time, OK?"

She didn't sleep a wink the first night after leaving Fremont.

In the dead of the night, everything he had done for her came flooding back to her, screaming how much he loved her, wanting her to forgive him. She was deeply torn.

She saw Fremont's newest post.

It was a video, in which a cat was nestling in his arms, meowing while he stroked it gently. The scar between his thumb and index finger was eye-catching.

The caption was, "I miss Mommy."

She watched that video that was only a few seconds long again and again, feeling her heart stabbed by a sharp knife ruthlessly.

Fremont knew her better than she knew herself.

He excelled in manipulating her.

Coco was a stray cat she had found a few years ago. That day, a wild dog was tearing at a litter of kittens. When she rushed up to rescue them, it lunged at her.

A second before it landed on her, Fremont showed up. It ended up biting his hand, hence the scar.

Back then, he had coaxed her so gently, telling her not to be afraid, completely ignoring his bleeding hand.

Her nose twitched as she clutched her phone.

Just then, she saw Chelsea give his post a like.

She and Fremont had matching couple profile pictures with him offering a bouquet of roses and her hugging the bouquet in her arms.

She didn't know when, but Chelsea had already changed into a profile picture with an identical composition to hers.

Feeling sick, she replaced everything related to him.

Meanwhile, Fremont suddenly found that the profile picture of his pinned contact "My sweetest love" was already a blank photo.

He clicked on it and saw she had changed her name to a single period.

Her status had been changed, too.

Now, it was, "The end".

Early the next morning, Eileen showed up at the hospital, and Wendy was startled by how haggard she was.

Her face was ghastly pale, there were two dark circles under her eyes, which were slightly red. She said, her voice hoarse, probably because she had been crying, "Dr. Duran, I'd like to have an abortion."

Wendy thought she must be hearing things and stuttered, "S-Sorry, what? Are you serious, Ms. McPherson? Isn't this what you want all along?"

Eileen was like an entirely different person overnight.

With red eyes, Eileen said, her voice hoarse, "I've thought it through. This isn't a good time for me to get pregnant. Could you arrange the procedure for me?"

Wendy sighed, "I'm afraid you'll have to wait because the fetus is still too small. It'll have to be at least the fortieth day of your pregnancy. I can put you down for three weeks from now. Maybe use the time to think again."

As Eileen walked out of the hospital, Wendy's words echoed in her ears.

"Ms. McPherson, I'm sure you know your condition. After your uterus was damaged, you've been recuperating for three years. The abortion is gonna be second damage. If you ever want to get pregnant again... I don't like the odds.

"No matter what, the baby is innocent."

Of course, Eileen knew that.

She loved the baby more than anyone else. But what would her life become if she kept the baby?

As she was lost in thought, she looked up at the sky and saw a few birds flying freely.

Should she let a baby tie her down for the rest of her life?

She had chosen to give up everything for her family, but in the end, Fremont failed her.

This was her only chance to resist, to leave the abyss.

Once she gave birth, everything would be too late.

It took Fremont only three years to ruin her future and cut off all her connections.

What would happen after five years? Or even ten years? By then, she'd lose both her youth and her means to make a living. If he no longer loved her, what should she do?

"No," she thought, the sadness in her eyes fading away, "it's not the life I want.

"Since Fremont blocks my path, I'll take another one."

Fremont might be the ruler of Warington, but he didn't get to call the shots in the entire showbiz.

He didn't have influence in Palsbury.

Welburn Cottrell, her mother's ex-husband, came to her mind.

In Welburn's prime, he was the heartthrob A-lister with countless fans in the country. With his help, she entered showbiz.

It had been years since his last film.

She heard he had moved to Palsbury to develop his career three years ago.

She found him in her contacts and was surprised to see that his profile picture was a photo they had taken together back when they were filming together.

In the photo, clad in black, he was on one knee.

It seemed he was yielding to her.

With so many scenes they had shot together, she could no longer remember which one this was.

Over the past three years, she had barely paid attention to showbiz. Besides, with the rise of short dramas, the film industry was facing a downturn, and many actors and actresses chose to switch their careers. She hadn't heard anything about him.

Maybe he no longer used this WhatsApp account.

And the only post on his Instagram was sent three years ago.

It was a clip from that film. He had probably posted it for promotional purposes.

Cornered, Eileen texted him tentatively, "Hey, are you there?"

She figured she wouldn't receive any reply at all.

However, he texted her back quickly, "Yes."

She was stunned at how quick his reply was.

After all these years, was he still filming?

Her phone buzzed when she was hesitating.

Just then, Welburn texted her again, "I'm waiting for you."

She replied immediately, "If it's OK, can we meet?"

He replied, "I'll give you the address."

Glad that he was more agreeable than she had pictured, she booked the earliest flight to Palsbury.

She had been uneasy during those four hours on the plane.

She thought, "I don't even know whether he's still filming. Besides, I don't even have a script. Isn't it a bit rude that I come to him so bluntly?

"I remember Welburn always left right after finishing shooting. Maybe he hates being disturbed."

Stepping out of the terminal, she spotted the handsome man standing in front of a black car at once.

He was no longer boyish, and his slender, straight posture as well as his striking features made him stand out easily. The look on his face was as cold as ever as he pursed his lips into a thin line.

The tailored suit accentuated his beefy figure, and his whole being exuded an air of nobility and aloofness.

He slowly raised his hand, revealing his slender fingers and his utterly fair wrist, the obsidian bracelet on which further added a touch to his icy restraint.

As his eyes landed on her, Eileen seemed to see something complicated within them.

He said slowly, his voice cold and deep, "It's been a while."

"It's been a while, Welburn."

They shook hands, and as his palm enveloped hers, she felt his body heat, which almost burned her skin.

Except for shooting, it had been years since she had had physical contact with any man.

A second later, she quickly withdrew her hand.

As their gazes met, his eyes seemed as calm as ever, but as any ocean, what hid underneath was unfathomable.

They got into the car.

Welburn didn't say anything, but his domineering aura somehow made her even more uneasy.

Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Eileen, who sat utmost upright.

Over the years, she had changed a lot. She had been worn out so much, looking haggard, her previous radiance all gone.

Her slightly curled hair cascaded over her white wool coat. Compared to Warington, Palsbury was very warm, and he could see the sweat on her slightly pale face.

As exhausted as she looked, her face was still breathtakingly beautiful.

She used to be a dazzling rose, and now she was as gentle as a lily.

She clutched the hem of her coat so tightly that her knuckles turned pale. It seemed she was waiting for the right moment to speak.

The sun had set, and it was time for dinner.

"Are you hungry?" Welburn asked.

"No. I ate on the plane. I..."

Her stomach rumbled, interrupting her.

His gaze swept over her rosy cheeks as he said, his voice still steady and calm, "Let's eat something first."

Biting her lip, she was a bit embarrassed. "Alright."

He then took her to a private kitchen restaurant. To her surprise, he ordered Warington cuisine.

They sat opposite each other.

As his eyes landed on her wool coat, he asked, "Aren't you hot?"

Only then did she take off the coat, revealing a shirt and jeans underneath.

She looked like a student instead of a rich man's wife.

Taking a hair tie from the waiter, she neatly tied her hair into a ponytail.

Holding a glass of water with both hands, she said, "I'm sorry for reaching out so suddenly. I just wanted to know if you're still interested in filming. I want to..."

Under the dim light, Welburn took off his suit jacket and undid two buttons of the white shirt, which added a touch of laziness to his indifferent temperament.

The only thing that remained was his innate domineering aura, which was particularly strong in a confined place like this. Somehow, Eileen felt that she had accidentally intruded on his turf.

A dangerous, meaningful glint flickered in his gaze falling upon her under the dim light.

She didn't know if it was her illusion or not—his gaze seemed to linger on her ring finger for a while.

She had removed her ring, but the faint band from years of wearing it could still be seen.

"Yeah?" His voice was deep, lazy, and pleasant to the ear. "What do you want?"

Eileen looked at Welburn at his question. Seeing the cold, lazy look on his face, she licked her slightly dry lips and said tentatively, "I wanna work with you again."

She had no confidence at all when she said this.

The film they took part in together had become a blockbuster soon, and many directors had approached her with scripts, hoping she'd film together with Welburn again.

She had turned them down on the spot. And Welburn, at her reaction, had deeply glanced at her.

Then he had raised his glass, saying, "Wish you happiness."

After years, she made such a proposal during their first meeting. What would he think?

Utterly nervous, she sweated profusely, and her shirt was soaked.

Welburn said coldly, "There's one thing I wanna know. Is your husband OK with your comeback?"

She knew he didn't mean to insult her, but the word "husband" still made her face burn.

She tightened her grip on the glass, almost crushing it.

As she bowed her head, Welburn couldn't see the emotions hidden in her eyes.

All he could see was her fluttering lashes like butterfly wings.

She used to be as proud as the rising sun on the prairie, yet now, she was even more fragile than a tempered glass covered in scars, trying her very best to stop herself from cracking.

But with a simple, hard strike, she'd collapse for good.

After a moment of silence, she looked up and smiled, "My marriage is complicated. I just want my career back."

He asked, "Given your previous status, you have ample chances for a comeback. Why me?"

And she seemed so pitiful as if she had been suffering all these years.

Didn't Fremont love her to the core?

She had been so happy when she quit, yet, here she was, using the word "complicated" to describe her marriage.

"Something happened, and I can't see what I can do in Warington. Our collaboration back then was a huge success, and the film still has massive fans today. I figure that if we work again, maybe it'll help with my career."

Welburn chuckled. "So, you wanna use me as a tool to climb back to the top?"

His blunt words were like a loud slap in her face.

She seemed a bit embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I know this is..."

Suddenly, he stood up, braced his hands on the table, and leaned forward.

The wood scent exclusive to him drifted into her nostrils, making him the only existence in her world.

She was stunned and then looked up at him.

"Eileen."

He said her name slowly and clearly, and she gazed at him, a bit baffled.

In the past, she had always found him cold and indifferent on set. Only when acting opposite her would he unleash himself, overwhelming him like roaring waves, making her heart flutter.

"Yeah?"

"I don't need your apology. I want..."

Just then, a waiter knocked on the door. It was time to serve the dishes.

As Eileen looked at Welburn again, he was already in his seat, fiddling with his obsidian bracelet casually.

His slender figure under dim light somehow seemed a bit alone, and she could see his sexy collarbones and obvious Adam's apple peeking from under his undone buttons.

He had always been a detached man with icy restraint, yet, at this precise moment, she found herself engulfed by his dangerous aura.

Was coming to Palsbury really a right move?

Come to think of it, she didn't know Welburn at all.

He was years older than her, and the day they first met, he had worn a black coat, making him seem unapproachable.

His acting skills weren't top-notch, but he took scripts seriously enough to study every glance.

With her and the director's relentless improvement, the movie turned out to be perfect.

After years, he had become mature and steady, and his eyes were literally the deepest, most unfathomable she had ever seen.

Noticing that she was absent-minded, Welburn crooked his bony finger and tapped the table.

"Let's eat," he offered.

"Alright."

Eileen said no more. As usual, he didn't talk much. The private room soon fell silent, with only the sound of tableware clattering ringing out.

By the time they left the restaurant, it was already dark.

Since he didn't give her his answer, she didn't know what he was thinking.

Holding her coat in her arms, she walked next to him neither slowly nor hurriedly.

He asked, "Have you ever been to Palsbury before?"

She shook her head. "No."

"The night view here is superb."

She gazed out at countless sparkling lights in the distance, thinking, "How long has it been since I enjoyed scenery?

"I spent every day trying everything to get pregnant. Trapping in that villa, I watched countless sunrises and sunsets alone, waiting for him to come back. Now that I think about it, it's more like a cage rather than a villa."

She raised her hand and pointed at the highest landmark. "I heard it's over a hundred meters high. Surely, the city looks the best standing on there, right?"

"You wanna go up there?"

"I wanna see what's it like on the top."

She used to be foolish enough to walk away from all that.

"Tomorrow, maybe. It's getting late. I'll take you back for some rest."

The black car shuttled through the streets as streetlights cast shadows on Eileen's face from time to time. Finally, it dropped at the entrance of a seven-star hotel.

She said, "Welburn, about my suggestion..."

His face was buried in the shadow, and his voice was flat. "I'll think about it."

"OK. See you tomorrow."

Upon entering the lobby, she saw Cedrick Ewing, Welburn's assistant, who had been waiting for her already. He gave her the keycard to her room.

Taking the card, she felt slightly embarrassed. Welburn paid for the meal and even arranged a room for her.

As Cedrick sent her upstairs, she probed, "Mr. Ewing, has Welburn been acting these past few years?"

Cedrick gave her a vague answer. "Not often."

Not often? Did it mean he was still filming?

Back at the spacious suite, she curled up in bed, searching for Welburn's information online.

But she basically found nothing. It was like someone had deliberately wiped his traces, and all she could find was the film they had acted together.

Besides, given how he dressed today, he was more like a businessman rather than an actor.

His identity was such a big mystery.

Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up to take a look.

It was Welburn. He texted her, "I've got something to do tomorrow. I'll come by later to take you to see someone."

She replied, "Alright. Thanks."

He texted her back, "Get some rest. Goodnight."

She sent him an emoji, which was a bunny falling into sleep while holding the moon.

In Warington.

Fremont, who had just come out of a business gathering, stumbled home. In the past, Eileen would have come to him at once and supported him.

But today, it was Helga Livingston, the maid. "Mr. Woodward, why did you drink so much?"

He slumped to the sofa, loosened his tie, and instinctively called out, "Eily."

"Mrs. Woodward left last night."

Fremont looked around, a bit drunk. Everything was still the same, even including Coco, who was on the cat tree. She hated the pungent smell of alcohol and looked at him while tilting her head.

The bedroom was still as cozy as ever, but everything made him feel cold.

"Right," he thought. "I know why. Eily ran away from home because I pissed her off."

Eileen was about to drift to sleep when her phone rang. In the next second, Fremont's drunk voice rang out. "Eily, I'm sorry. I was wrong. I really was. I don't wanna fight with you anymore. Where are you? I'll take you home, OK?"

Instantly, she was no longer sleepy. She sat up and looked outside at the unfamiliar view through the floor-to-ceiling window, feeling a sense of strangeness as if she were abroad.

She didn't answer and heard Helga's voice. "Mr. Woodward, have some hangover soup, OK?"

"No. I wanna find Eily back..."

Eileen hung up, tears streaming down her cheeks.

She hugged her knees with her arms, her nails digging into her pajamas.

She thought, "But Fremont, we can never go back."

The next day.

Waking up from the hangover, Fremont felt a splitting headache. He was momentarily at a loss as he looked at his empty embrace.

Eileen had been gone for two days already.

He struggled to get up, feeling weak all over. He could no longer hear her complaint about him drinking, and those slender fingers massaging his head as well as soup with rich aroma were nowhere to be found.

Traces reminding him of her existence were everywhere, only she was gone.

With a cigarette in his mouth, he walked onto the balcony and called Alfred. "Is she still staying at the hotel?"

"She checked out already and bought a plane ticket to Palsbury yesterday. Mr. Woodward, is ... Mrs. Woodward leaving you?"

Smoking, Fremont said coldly, "She'll never leave Warington as long as Noelle is here."

Knowing Noelle McPherson was Eileen's grandma, Alfred asked, "Is she trying to find an opportunity in Palsbury?"

"She knows no one there except a dying old director. No one can help her. Perhaps she just wanted to leave town for a bit."

He had anticipated this and even had someone look into it. The old director receiving treatment in Palsbury had terminal cancer and would die soon.

In no time, Eileen would realize that no matter how big the world was, only he could protect her.

He shouldn't push her too hard, or she'd end up hating him more.

Putting out his cigarette, he walked to the garden, cut some roses planted by Eileen, and put them in a vase.

Coco jumped up to the vase and sniffed the roses.

He took a photo and posted it on Instagram.

The caption was, "Coco misses her mommy. So do I."

Chelsea was the first to give him a like.

Only then did he notice Chelsea used the same profile picture Eileen had used before.

Frowning slightly, he thought, "How disgusting.

"Surely, Chelsea isn't stupid enough to think she means something just because she's carrying my child, is she?"

He changed his profile picture to a photo of Coco sniffing the roses, wanting to tell Eileen he had been waiting for her to come home.

Then he blocked and deleted Chelsea on WhatsApp.

Meanwhile, Chelsea was smiling in glee, thinking that now that she had forced Eileen away, it was only a matter of time before she became Fremont's wife.

She saw his profile picture—a kitten was sniffing roses.

Was that just a coincidence? She didn't think so. A rosy hue spread across her cheeks as she imagined Fremont kissing her.

She thought, "If I get to be hugged and kissed by Fremont, that gilded prince who's always so aloof, my life will be complete.

"Now that he and Eileen are fighting, it's the perfect time for me to swoop in."

Bracing herself, she texted Fremont.

Yet, a system notification popped out.

He had blocked her.

Panic set in.

Just then, Alfred called her. She answered at once and said in an affectedly sweet voice, "What's up, Alfred?"

Alfred's serious voice rang out. "Mr. Woodward wants you to know you'll get what you deserve once you deliver. But if you want anything that doesn't belong to you, you'll end up with nothing."

"Alfred, Mr. Woodward got me wrong. I..."

Without giving her a chance to explain, Alfred lowered his voice and threatened, "Shut the fuck up, Chelsea. Do you think Mr. Woodward is a fool or something? Mrs. Woodward means the world to him. If you upset her again, believe me or not, you're gonna suffer after you give birth.

"Just a friendly reminder—never underestimate how much Mr. Woodward loves her. So, change that damn profile picture now!"

Eileen woke up feeling the warm sunshine, and she stretched lazily.

Perhaps it was because she had only slept for two hours the night before. After she drifted off to sleep in the wee hours last night, she didn't wake up even once.

She had been engulfed by icy desperation after finding out about Fremont's betrayal.

But now, facing the sunshine, she finally felt a bit warm.

The weather in Palsbury was warm throughout the year, and even the sunlight here was particularly gentle.

She browsed Instagram and saw the photo of Coco Fremont had sent this morning.

He had changed his profile picture, and Chelsea wasn't one of the people who gave him a like.

It was as if Chelsea had never existed.

But Eileen knew that wound in the depth of her heart could never heal.

The TV was broadcasting news. "Mr. Cottrell has secured a ten-figure order again, pushing the Cottrell Group to a new height."

The news was drowned by the sound of the running water coming from the bathroom. Eileen washed her face and did some basic skincare.

The smile on her face replaced the previous lifeless look, making her radiant. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she said, "Eileen, time to start over."

She took a shower, put on the robe, and called the concierge to have her clothes laundered.

Soon, the concierge knocked on the door and then pushed several carts of food as well as women's clothing.

Apparently, it was more than just room service—Welburn had ordered all the famous specialty dishes in Palsbury to be served on her table.

She had a much better appetite today. Perhaps due to curiosity, she tried every dish earnestly.

Welburn showed up earlier than she thought. He knocked on the door, and she figured it was the concierge again. Figuring that they were both women, she opened the door directly.

But instead of the concierge, it was Welburn who stood at the door. He had folded his suit and draped it over his wrist, his white shirt buttoned to the top. His fatigue from last night was already gone, replaced by nobility and elegance.

She had just taken a shower, and her soft hair cascaded over the white robe. The belt around her waist was tied loosely, and a bit of her cleavage could be seen.

His gaze fell upon the plumpness underneath her robe before he looked away in the next second. She had just enjoyed some milk-based dessert and hadn't wiped her mouth, and he clearly saw a faint trace of milk stain on the corner of her pink lips.

It was deadly tempting.

His gaze immediately deepened dangerously.

"Sorry. I should have called you in advance," he said.

Then he turned around gentlemanly, leaving his upright, broad back facing her.

Eileen said, "Give me ten minutes."

Ten minutes later, she opened the door, already changing into a long white dress with purple flowers sent by the concierge.

"I'm ready, Welburn."

Hearing this, Welburn turned around, his gaze sweeping over her figure as perfect and attractive as always.

While walking, she tied her hair up. "Thanks for the food. Every dish was so tasty. The restaurant surely lives up to its reputation. But there was so much that I couldn't finish it all."

Knowing she was a big fan of dresses, Fremont had bought her a lot of hairpins to match them.

She swiftly tied up her hair with a hairpin.

Under the sunlight, she walked with grace, her curvaceous figure exuding allure.

Her raised arms were slender and tender.

But he knew that in fact, she could leap onto a horse, loop the reins, and ride the horse without any difficulty at all, which created a stark contrast to her delicate demeanor.

His Adam's apple bobbed as his gaze fell upon the food on the table. Then he said, "I'm here to take you to see someone?"

"Who?"

"Ms. Shaw."

Bonita Shaw was the director of the film "Me and My Stepfather"—the blockbuster Eileen and Welburn had both participated. Over the years, she had stepped away from showbiz and didn't know Bonita was sick.

Without explaining much, Welburn took Eileen to the hospital.

Her eyes turned red uncontrollably as she looked at the frail, elderly woman in bed. It had just been three years, yet she could hardly recognize Bonita anymore.

As Bonita looked at Welburn and Eileen standing side by side, she smiled with satisfaction.

Then she took out a script and said, "After 'Me and My Stepfather became a hit, I wrote a sequel. Who could have known that you quit just because of a man? You regret it now, don't you?"

She sighed, continuing, "Eileen, I've seen many women like you. A woman should never lose her for a man. I'm not saying men won't truly love anyone. It's just that their affection might vanish at any second. Who knows? Perhaps what he loves is that dazzling you on stage. But how long will he still love you after you return to an ordinary person? A woman's youth lasts only a few years. It'll be too late to regret it once it's gone.

"Here's the sequel of 'Me and My Stepfather'. Your fans and I will be so overjoyed to see you be part of it. Consider this a dream coming true for us."

Eileen kept Bonita company in the ward for an entire afternoon. When leaving, she took away the script Bonita had tailor-made for her.

With "Me and My Stepfather", the blockbuster, laying the foundation, and the sequel Bonita had written, she'd make a comeback and rise to fame again as long as Welburn agreed to film.

But he still hadn't told her his answer, which made her utterly uneasy.

As she walked into the elevator, Welburn pressed the button to the rooftop.

She followed him out in confusion and saw a helicopter on the helipad.

He walked toward it as she looked at him warily. "Where are we going?"

He was tall, and the lights on the rooftop weren't bright. As he stood next to the helicopter, his chiseled face was in the darkness, and all she could see was his sharp jawline.

On his hanging wrist, the obsidian bracelet was vaguely visible.

At this precise moment, he was like a high-and-might ruler, looking down at her while lowering his head.

The night wind blew, and the hem of her dress fluttered in the air, revealing her slender, straight calves.

She looked up and stared at him warily, as if she were a stubborn doe remaining cautious at any second.

His cold voice cut through the darkness. "Take you to the peak..."

After a pause, he softened his tone. "To see the night view."

The helicopter passed over Palsbury's most bustling district as well as the spot where the two rivers converged. As she looked out, she saw countless buildings of different heights ablaze and countless household lights behind them shimmering like stars.

Steamships on the river lined up in a row. All of a sudden, a beam of light illuminated the entire sky.

In the next second, fireworks of various colors burst into bloom, painting the night sky and turning it into a masterpiece.

It was breathtakingly beautiful.

For the first time, Eileen realized that other than being dazzling, fireworks could also be majestic and magnificent.

She pressed her hands against the window, exclaiming, "Welburn, look!"

He leaned closer to her, bracing a hand against the glass.

The wood scent exclusive to him enveloped her, somehow making her feel like she was in his embrace.

His warm breath reached her ear as he said, "Yeah."

His deep voice rang out right next to her ear. She instinctively leaned backward, realizing how close they were.

Yet, she ended up bumping into his firm chest.

Caught off guard, she turned around hastily, her rosy lips almost brushing against his ear.

In that split second, she felt his warm breath on her neck, which was so light yet so scalding...

Without looking at Eileen, Welburn looked out through the window, saying, "Look. The phoenix has been reborn."

His voice attracted Eileen's attention. She looked over and saw thousands of drones rising into the sky, forming the outline of a phoenix.

The phoenix soon spread its wings, soared through the flames, and flew into the depths of the clouds.

It was so amazing that words failed her.

She felt like she was back in her teenage days. Fremont had once led her through the slum alleys, holding her hand as they ran, while they watched the fireworks set off by the rich in the city center.

Back then, Fremont was just a thin teenager. With a bright smile and sweat on his head, he gave her the simplest yet the sincerest promise.

He pointed at the skyscraper in the distance, saying, "Eily, I'll take you to leave one day, buy a place for us there, and set off fireworks exclusive to you."

They were like two wild weeds, seeking each other's warmth against coldness and poverty, stubbornly trying to climb upward.

She had waited for years, but it seemed he had long forgotten his promise about the fireworks.

Leaning against the window, she was lost in thought, her eyes turning red slightly. For a time, she forgot Welburn next to her.

Just then, his light, cold voice rang out. "Eileen, you should have been the phoenix in the sky, flying freely while enjoying everyone's attention, yet you've become someone's caged pet. Is that really what you want?"

Eileen's gaze fell upon the phoenix soaring through the clouds, the scene where she gave a speech while holding the Best Actress award trophy emerging in her mind.

She had been willing to quit, and now, she was unwilling to waste another second of her life on a mere man.

Looking up, she met Welburn's utterly indifferent eyes, which were devoid of any desire.

Clutching his shirt, she pleaded, "Welburn, can you help me?"

She could even see her stubborn face in his eyes. Suddenly, he curved his thin lips. "As you wish."

Eileen was so excited after getting his affirmative answer that she found it hard to sleep at night.

Gazing at the countless household lights outside the window, she made up her mind—it was time to sever all ties with Fremont.

He wanted to confine her by using their love and marriage as his excuse.

So what if he showered her with the most beautiful dresses and jewelry? She no longer had any occasion to wear them.

She had loved him so much that she was oblivious to his obsession and possessiveness.

Maybe he had been planning this for years.

He wanted her to be his alone. To do that, he had no hesitation in severing her wings and cutting all her way out.

She didn't need things like thoughts or dreams. All she needed to do was stay with him and let him have her.

A chill ran down Eileen's spine at this.

His love was so obsessive.

She had a dream that night. In the dream, she went back to her student days. Fremont, the handsome straight-A student, pressed her against a tree, sunshine shining on his white shirt through the dense leaves.

Pinching her chin with his slender fingers, he looked down at her, his long lashes concealing the madness in his eyes. "Eily, love me. Will you?"

Suddenly, he was that tall, beefy man again. Holding her in his arms forcibly, he said, "Eily, have a child with me.

"Eily, I'm the one who loves you the most in this world.

"Eily...

Eileen opened her eyes abruptly, her body drenched in sweat. She ran a hand through her hair, realizing she had dreamed of him again.

As she turned on her phone, she saw that he had sent her countless messages, all telling her how much he had missed her.

Fremont was still as obsessive as ever. He'd never agree to a divorce.

Her time in Palsbury was over, and she should come back.

A lot of preparations had to be made before the official shooting.

She checked on and was about to text Welburn to thank him.

Just as she left the hotel, she saw Cedrick standing by the black car.

Welburn had actually arranged for her ride to the airport.

Holding a bag with her clothes, she typed with her other hand.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Cedrick had pulled open the door for her, so she got into the car and sat down, her gaze glued to the phone this whole time.

In the next second, she realized she was sitting on a man's firm lap.

Dumbfounded, she instinctively turned around, only to meet a cold pair of eyes.

Why was Welburn in the car? Why was he sitting so close to the edge?

This was literally the most embarrassing moment in her life.

"I'm sorry... I was just about to text you."

She immediately straightened up and moved to the side while bending slightly. Maybe it was her illusion—she seemed to see his gaze linger on her for a few seconds.

By the time she saw properly and looked at him again, his gaze was already cold and indifferent again.

His hand resting on the armrest was fair and slender, the bulging veins on its back exuding pure sexual tension.

The obsidian bracelet on his wrist, however, added a touch of icy restraint to his presence.

Somehow, she felt that the bracelet was a curse on him, a chain. Once without it, he'd be consumed by madness, losing self-control while doing whatever he pleased.

Just then, his deep voice rang out. "I was about to get out of the car to help you with your things."

"I didn't notice." She tugged at the hem of her dress, still a bit awkward.

"What did you want to text me?" he asked.

"I wanna thank you for these days. When you come to Warington one day, I'll surely return the favor."

He curved his lips. "If I remember correctly, you used to step away from gatherings."

She answered calmly, "People change."

They arrived at the airport.

She stepped out and thanked him politely.

The car window was rolled down, and his voice rang out. "Eileen."

She stopped in her tracks and then turned around to look at him, her eyes brighter and her figure more curvaceous under the sunshine.

He continued, "We'll soon meet again."

"OK." She nodded.

Then she turned to leave just as she had many times before.

The flowers on her dress gradually shrank into a dot in his sight.

The driver asked tentatively, "Mr. Cottrell, can we head back to the office now? The board members are there already."

Through the rearview mirror, he saw Welburn's eyes, in which the usual indifference was replaced by dominance and danger, as if he were finally ready to pounce on prey he'd coveted for years.

Such gaze mixed with desire and resolution made the driver shudder.

Soon, the plane landed in Warington. Back in her hometown, she now had different feelings.

Her life was still long. Until now, she had spent most of it, consumed by that exhausting relationship.

All of a sudden, she realized the fundamental problem that had caused their marriage to crumble.

It was never just about Chelsea's baby. She wanted to break the chain and live her life independently and freely.

As she walked to the exit, she spotted the man in a suit with Jumilia Roses in his hand at once.

She wore a mask and a pair of sunglasses, and as she stepped out, she had even put on a trench coat and drew up the hood.

No one could tell who she was—not even a patch of her skin could be seen.

But Fremont clearly wasn't trying to stay low-profile. He already stood out enough, yet he strode toward her anyway.

Under everyone's eyes, he held her in his arms and sighed with relief, his warm breath brushing against her ear, "Eily, finally, you're back."

Lowering her voice, she said in his ear, "Let go, Fremont, or I don't mind slapping you right here."

Those three past days were like three years to Fremont.

His heart was finally in its place as he held Eileen in his arms.

He lowered his head, buried his face in the crook of her neck, and inhaled her scent greedily.

"Eily, I missed you so much..."

Yet, in the next second, a faint trace of wood scent drifted into his nostrils.

It wasn't the scent of a woman.

Who did she meet in Palsbury?

Fremont's gaze grew icy—he had actually smelt another man's scent on his wife.

Eileen and Fremont had never officially announced their marriage. Since she wanted a divorce, of course, she wouldn't let anyone find out about it now.

She quickly pulled him to leave.

Unlike days before, she had stopped crying or looking down. Instead, her eyes sparkled again, which was something that made Fremont both beam and dread.

To him, she was like a bright star, and it took him a lot of effort before taking her away and hiding her from anyone else. He was utterly uneasy now that she had reappeared in the sky.

The sun had set. After the long trip, Eileen was exhausted.

"Let's talk, Fremont."

"Why don't we go home and talk? Helga made some soup. I've had the luggage you stored at the hotel fetch back."

"OK."

She wasn't surprised. After all, he had ruined her career and future. There was nothing he wouldn't do.

At the street corner, she saw a few middle school students just released from classes, beaming with grins. Though it was already cold late autumn, there were still a few of them who wore nothing but thin jackets.

Suddenly, she thought of Fremont in the past. Back then, his student uniform was washed out. Though he was tall, he was so thin due to insufficient nutrition. When he held her in his arms, she could even feel his protruding ribs.

How things changed. Now, he sat next to her in a suit, rotating the wedding ring on his finger. As his head dropped, she couldn't see his eyes and didn't know what he was thinking.

His gaze falling upon her purple dress soon turned deeper.

They arrived at the villa.

In the next second, Coco meowed and darted out from the courtyard.

Coco had always been a wild one, throwing herself at Eileen whenever Eileen's footsteps rang out.

And now, Eileen was pregnant. Though she had booked an abortion, she instinctively shielded her abdomen with a hand due to maternal instincts.

Luckily, Coco didn't throw herself at Eileen today.

She came to an abrupt stop at Eileen's feet, looked up, and rubbed her head against Eileen's leg with a meow.

Eileen crouched down and stroked her head. "I'm back, Coco."

Helga walked out with a smile. "Finally, Mrs. Woodward, you're back. Mr. Woodward has been drinking these days without you around. Don't leave again."

Little did Helga know that she came back just to leave again.

She had acted too impulsively three days ago.

Let alone the marriage, she and Fremont had been together for eighteen years. Of course, a divorce couldn't put an end to everything.

Chelsea claimed the villa Fremont had bought for her, enjoying the life of Mrs. Woodward, while her account held just 8,000 dollars.

Why?

She refused to be a lovestruck fool who opted to leave with nothing. Fremont must give her everything she deserved—plus interest—in the divorce.

They were no longer the pair of broke lovebirds living in the slums anymore, and it'd take a while to completely untangle their assets.

She took off her clothes and went to the bathroom.

Fremont breathed a sigh of relief as he heard the sound of the running water.

Now that Eileen was back, this place finally felt like home again.

With a cigarette in his mouth, he went to the balcony and called Alfred. "Get me everything you can find out about Eileen's days in Palsbury. I wanna know who she met and what she did. Also, get me her spending records, too."

"OK."

"Also, prepare a grand fireworks display."

"Alright."

Soon, Alfred sent him Eileen's spending records in Palsbury.

She paid for the presidential suite and the two round-trip plane tickets—that was all.

She didn't spend a penny during her stay in Palsbury.

Someone had deliberately erased her traces, and Alfred couldn't even find out which hotel she had stayed there.

None of her friends were this good.

Fremont's gut told him it was a man.

The wood scent he had smelt on her was so unique. No woman would ever choose to wear such perfume.

Fremont was on the verge of losing it at the thought that she had been staying with another man and even came back with his perfume. Maybe it was just business, but he didn't give a damn at all.

Who was that fucking man?

Eileen took a bath and walked into the walk-in closet in a robe.

Her slender yet curvaceous body underneath the robe was nothing but tempting.

All his friends bragged about how many women they had been with, pursuing a sense of novelty with different female companionships.

But Fremont could never relate. He could never get tired of being with Eileen.

"Eily..."

He pressed against her body from behind, and Eileen knew exactly that it meant he wanted her.

She trembled instinctively as he placed his hand on her abdomen.

Then she pushed him away. "What are you doing?"

The dim light cast shadows on his striking face. He lowered his gaze, his lashes concealing the sullenness in his eyes, and then he stepped forward and wedged a leg between her legs.

Meanwhile, he gripped her chin, confining her between him and the closet, his intimidating aura overwhelming her.

She suddenly felt that she didn't recognize him anymore.

Even his voice carried a hint of danger. "Eily, tell me. Did you go see a man in Palsbury? Who was he?"

Eileen didn't know about Welburn's real identity. Back then, the investors had simply told her to mentor a newcomer in showbiz.

After these days, she could tell Welburn came from a rich family.

Not wanting to cause him trouble, she said instinctively, "None of your business."

Fremont traced her lips with his finger. As he was against the light, she couldn't make up the domineering, even frightening possessiveness look on his face.

"Don't be so cruel to me, Eily."

"Fremont, you didn't tell me when you let Chelsea have your baby, did you? What right do you have to ask me about anything? Does it matter to you which man I was with?"

Of course, it did. It was driving him crazy!

He skimmed her lips and then her tender, fair face with his thumb. She was so perfect, and he wouldn't let anyone take her away from him.

"Let go." She wanted to push him away, only to be caught by the wrist.

He effortlessly pressed her against the closet, sucking her earlobe.

She had just taken a bath, and the rose scent lingering was nothing but familiar to him.

He and Eileen had completely different personalities.

He was cold, old-fashioned, rigid, and hated changes, always frowning at new things.

In contrast, she was bold, fiery, tough, and craved thrills and novelty. She'd thrive even in the toughest times.

Even though he was already standing atop the pyramid of power, the inferiority in his bones still made him terrified of losing her.

He hated changes, and he didn't want her to change.

"Eily..." There was a trace of obsession in his voice.

Sucking her earlobe, he ran the tip of his tongue upward, wetting the soft fuzz inside her ear.

Meanwhile, he slid his calloused fingers along her thigh, making her burn at his touch.

Feeling her trembling body, he said, his voice hoarse, "Eily, I'm the one who loves you the most in this world. Don't ever try to escape. You can't."