Chapter 1

Melissa never imagined that, of all people, it would be Nancy Granger—her so-called sister-in-law—who would ruin her marriage.

Two months ago, Nancy had returned from abroad and taken over Brad's life completely.

She made his hangover cures, picked out his outfits, plated his food, peeled his shrimp, and walked arm in arm with him. She'd even run his bath before he asked.

Melissa had been completely absorbed in developing third-generation imaging chips and had barely been home in the past two months.

So when the maid, Beatrice MacLeod, mentioned that Brad and Nancy seemed a little too close for siblings, Melissa didn't think much of it.

After all, Nancy was seven years younger than Brad. He'd found her in the snow and practically raised her like a sister. Naturally, their bond ran deeper than most.

Besides, Brad had always kept his distance from women, never showing the slightest interest.

Melissa had trusted Brad completely… until the day she came home unannounced. She reached the bedroom, and her smile froze in place.

Nancy was sprawled over him in a nightgown. Her hands had slipped beneath the folds of his half-open robe, gliding over his bare, honey-toned chest.

"Get up, lazybones! Rosie's already at kindergarten, and you're still lying in bed."

Brad laughed—a sound Melissa hadn't heard in a long time.

"That tickles. Alright, alright, Nancy. I'm getting up. You win," he said.

"Let's be real, Brad. Your human alarm clock here is way more thoughtful and reliable than Melissa, isn't she?"

Melissa had been sure he'd say no. Six years ago, Brad had cut ties with his family just to marry her. He'd even made a vow. "Melissa's always right. And if she's ever wrong? See Rule One."

In the polished circles of Brixtonvale, people used to say Brad worshipped his wife like his life depended on it.

Back then, if he so much as thought about sleeping in, all it took was a single look from Melissa to get him out of bed.

But in the very next breath, she heard him speak to Nancy in a voice so tender and indulgent.

"Of course, Nancy. You're the sweetest, most thoughtful person I know. Melissa doesn't even come close. Happy now?"

Melissa froze. Betrayal spread through her like ice, seeping into her bones.

Nancy pressed her face to Brad's chest, her voice full of longing. "I wish we could stay like this forever."

"Silly goose. This will always be your home."

Nancy's home?

Melissa's lips curled into a bitter smile.

Had Brad really forgotten? This manor belonged to her.

In just five years, she'd earned her bachelor's, master's, and Ph.D. in semiconductor materials. She had quickly become one of the most sought-after experts in the global semiconductor industry.

If Brad hadn't designed Rosethorne Manor to match her every preference, she never would've agreed to stay in Brixtonvale.

A cold, steely glint flashed in Melissa's eyes before she turned and headed downstairs.

Beatrice spotted her and said, "Mrs. Dalton, you're back."

Melissa gave a noncommittal hum and kept walking. She knew Brad and Nancy had already heard her. Now, she waited for them in the main hall.

Melissa pulled up the surveillance footage. Only then did she realize that whenever she was around, Nancy always knew how to keep her distance.

But the moment she stepped out, it was a different story. Nancy drank from Brad's cup, hugged him from behind, and even fell asleep with her head resting on his arm.

And Brad? He let her cross every line without saying a word.

But that wasn't the worst of it. Nancy had been getting to their daughter, Rosie Dalton, too.

She filled Rosie's head with stories about how carefree and happy kids were abroad, encouraging her to spray perfume and wear makeup however she pleased.

One day, out of the blue, Rosie blurted, "Mommy is the worst. Aunt Nancy is the best!"

"Honey, come back to the room. Let me explain, okay?"

The words came from a deep, cool voice above Melissa's head. She looked up to see Brad standing there in his perfectly tailored suit.

At 30, he still carried himself with tall, composed elegance. His sharply defined features wore their usual mask of calm indifference.

Beside him stood petite Nancy, lip caught between her teeth, trying to look heartbreakingly innocent.

Brad, knowing he was in the wrong, tried to explain. "Nancy's like a little sister to me. And you're my wife. You each have a different place in my life. That's why I said there's no comparison."

"Yeah, Melissa, I was just joking around with him," Nancy added quickly.

"Oh? And you had to be on top of him for the joke to land?" Melissa snapped.

Nancy's eyes welled with wounded innocence. "Melissa…"

"Go on, say my name in that whiny little voice of yours. Isn't that what you snakes do? Don't tell me you actually thought you were better than the rest!"

"Melissa!" Brad's expression darkened. "That's enough. I only see Nancy as a sister. After everything she's been through, the least we can do is show her a little kindness."

"So now you're trying to play both sides?" Melissa's jaw tightened. "This is my house, Brad. And if you want this marriage to last, then make damn sure I never see her again."

Given how grounded and reliable Brad had always been, Melissa was willing to give him another chance if he owned up to his mistakes and fixed them immediately.

But Brad bristled. "Nancy just got back to Brixtonvale. She has no family, no friends, and nowhere to go. She's only 23. Where is she supposed to stay?"

"She can find a hotel, sleep under a bridge, marry some guy—I don't care. If she can't figure it out, she can walk herself straight to the crematorium!"

Her words landed like a slap. Without another glance at either of them, Melissa turned and drove straight back to the research center.

The chip still required software capable of handling both logic and circuit diagrams. But with personal matters to deal with in the coming days, she handed the task of securing the licensed software to someone else.

Melissa picked Rosie up from kindergarten at 4:30 pm.

Rosie was almost five now. Melissa had been there for every milestone, but somehow, Rosie still kept her at arm's length. It all traced back to a clash in parenting styles with the Daltons.

Brad let Rosie play with her phone. Her grandparents spoiled her endlessly. And now Nancy had joined the competition, pouring on the sugar and indulgence.

They were all trying to win Rosie's affection with treats and zero boundaries, while Melissa was the only one holding the line.

Rosie was clearly disappointed that Nancy hadn't come to pick her up. She barely said a word to Melissa on the drive home.

But the moment they walked through the door and Rosie realized Nancy was truly gone, something in her snapped. She flew into a rage, pounding her tiny fists against Melissa with all the fury she could muster.

"You're the one who drove Aunt Nancy away! She's scared to talk when you're around! Why did you have to come back? Give her back! I want Aunt Nancy!"

A sharp ache bloomed in Melissa's chest. Rosie had always kept her distance, but she had never lashed out like this.

Melissa crouched down, trying to reason with her. But Rosie, like something had taken over, sank her teeth deep into Melissa's arm.

For a moment, Melissa just stared at her in disbelief. Her own daughter—her flesh and blood—was ready to tear into her over another woman.

Brad walked in, scooped Rosie into his arms without a word, and carried her off to her room.

Frustrated, Melissa grabbed a cigarette, stepped over to the windowsill, and lit up.

Brad walked out of Rosie's room and spotted Melissa by the window, a cigarette burning low between her fingers. She looked like a shadow of the woman he used to know, her eyes dim and vacant.

Something twisted painfully in his chest.

Chapter 2

Melissa never used to smoke. She was brilliant and magnetic. The kind of woman who could light up a room without even trying.

But after her parents, Andrew Hensley and Ethel Eastwood, passed away, the grief settled over her like a fog she couldn't outrun. Somewhere along the way, she'd picked up smoking, hoping it might dull the ache.

Brad understood her pain. But that didn't mean he could stomach her nastiness.

Nancy was his only sister. She'd barely been back in the country for two months, and already Melissa couldn't stand the sight of her.

How was he supposed to care about someone who'd grown so cold and unfeeling?

Brad turned away, his expression ice-cold, and disappeared into his room.

Melissa caught the look in his face and let out a bitter smirk.

People liked to call Brad the perfect husband. But she knew better. Behind closed doors, his temper ran deep, and when he was angry, he shut her out like she didn't exist.

And when he did speak, it was only because of that one rule—"Melissa is always right"—and every word felt like it cost him something.

…

That night, Brad had every intention of ignoring Melissa. But then he remembered what Rosie had said.

His voice was cold when he finally spoke. "A birthday marks the day you were born. It only matters if it's celebrated on the actual day. Rosie said she doesn't want an early one this year."

Melissa froze.

Rosie's birthday had always fallen on a tricky date. Every year, Melissa made sure to celebrate it three days early, just the way Rosie liked. She went out of her way to make sure every birthday wish came true.

Each time, Rosie would surprise her with a rare burst of affection, hugging her tight and saying, "You're the best, Mommy. Thank you."

But this year, she wanted things to be different.

"Nancy put her up to this again," Melissa said firmly.

"Why is it always Nancy's fault?" Brad shot back, his temper flaring. "This is getting ridiculous. Your parents have been gone for five years. When are you going to move the hell on?"

Melissa clenched her fists, her chest tightening as if a steel band had wrapped around her ribs.

…

That night, Melissa had a dream.

She was back in Marain, five years ago, reliving the earthquake. Ethel had thrown herself over Melissa's pregnant body, shielding her, only to be crushed by the falling debris.

Melissa jolted awake, gasping and in tears.

The bed beside her was empty.

Brad stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, his phone pressed to his ear. "What's wrong, Nancy? Don't cry. Are you in danger? Say something. Tell me where you are!"

Panic was written all over his face. He bolted out the door in his loungewear, not even bothering to change. He didn't even notice Melissa, her face streaked with tears.

With nothing left to hold onto, she slipped off her wedding ring and tossed it into the trash.

…

The sky was just beginning to lighten when Melissa came downstairs.

Nancy had clearly been waiting. She stepped forward, clutching an ornate covered dish.

"I'm sorry, Melissa. I know I shouldn't have come back, but I couldn't stop worrying about Brad and Rosie."

Melissa shot her a sideways glance. "And? You think being worried gives you the right to swoop in, take my place, and live here with him?"

Seeing they were alone, Nancy dropped the act. "So, you figured it out. Are you going to step aside?"

Melissa's eyes went steely.

"Don't be mad, Melissa. I was just kidding. I know I was out of line calling Brad away last night, so I made you some pastries to apologize."

Melissa recoiled from the sweetness in her tone. It was too hollow. She was about to leave, but Nancy's voice followed, soft and deliberate.

"I made rose pastries."

Melissa froze mid-step. The words sank in like a hook beneath her skin. Ice crept through her veins.

Before the earthquake hit, Ethel had been clinging to Melissa, asking her to make a batch of her rose pastries. But Melissa kept brushing her off with one excuse after another.

Andrew, always the soft one when it came to Ethel, finally gave in and went out to buy some instead.

No one saw the earthquake coming.

When the building gave way, Ethel threw herself over Melissa, shielding her and the baby growing inside her.

Melissa could only watch as the debris came down, crushing Ethel, twisting her body into something beyond recognition. And yet somehow, through the pain, Ethel still managed a faint smile.

"Maybe it's a good thing you never made me those pastries," she whispered. "Now I've got a reason to keep missing you even after I'm gone…"

Melissa's eyes glistened with unshed tears. From that day on, she could never bring herself to touch rose pastries again.

And the roses at Rosethorne Manor? They hadn't bloomed since.

Nancy gave her a syrupy smile. "Melissa, why don't you try one of my rose pastries?"

Melissa knew she was doing this on purpose. Brad must've told her everything.

"Get lost," she hissed through clenched teeth.

Nancy pretended not to hear. "If I'm not wrong, your parents' death anniversary is coming up. I thought I'd pay my respects on your behalf. Why don't we leave these rose pastries for Mrs. Hensley? Who knows? Maybe after one bite, she'll finally be at peace."

Melissa snapped. She turned and slapped Nancy hard across the face with the back of her hand.

Nancy cried out as she hit the floor, the dish crashing beside her. Her left cheek was already starting to swell, but she only covered her face and smiled, like a hunter who knew she'd landed the perfect shot.

Melissa looked down. The dish had flipped open, scattering delicate jasmine pastries across the floor.

Nancy had called them rose pastries on purpose.

Melissa steadied herself. "You want to play games with me? Then be ready to pay the price."

Before Nancy could react, another sharp crack echoed through the room. Melissa's second slap landed square across her other cheek, leaving it burning red.

Without hesitation, Melissa grabbed a jasmine pastry, forced Nancy's jaw open, and shoved it in.

"Did Brad never teach you to respect the dead? Trash like you and him will get exactly what you deserve—"

"Melissa!"

Brad had heard the commotion and came charging down the stairs with Rosie in tow.

His face twisted with rage as he grabbed Melissa and yanked her back hard. She stumbled, crashing into the glass cabinet behind her. A sharp bolt of pain shot up her spine, and she winced.

"Brad…" Nancy whimpered.

Tears spilled freely down her cheeks, painting her the perfect picture of the wounded victim.

Brad reached out to touch her face, then hesitated, afraid even that might hurt her.

He turned back to Melissa, eyes blazing. "Apologize to her. Now!"

Melissa gritted her teeth against the pain and met Brad's eyes with unwavering defiance.

He wouldn't see the truth because he didn't want to. He never asked questions, never cared about who was actually at fault. Nancy was all that mattered to him.

"You want an apology? Then drop to your knees and start begging," Melissa spat.

Brad's expression darkened. A storm brewing behind his eyes. "I love you, Melissa, but that doesn't mean I'll stand by and watch you treat Nancy like this."

Without another word, he grabbed Nancy's wrist with his left hand, yanked it upward, and swung. A sharp crack cut through the air as five red welts bloomed across Melissa's right cheek.

The room went dead silent.

Melissa's heart shattered, piece by piece, until there was nothing left to cling to. Then, a dry, hollow laugh slipped from her lips, her whole body pulsing with cold, razor-sharp fury.

She grabbed Brad's arm, stepped in close, and with a swift twist of her body, threw him clean over her shoulder. He crashed to the floor with a heavy thud.

Terrified, Rosie burst into loud sobs. "You're so mean, Mommy! You hit Aunt Nancy, and now you hurt Daddy! Get out! Leave! This isn't your house anymore!"

Rage surged through Melissa. Her eyes blazed as she looked down at Brad sprawled at her feet.

"We're over, Brad!"

Chapter 3

"Do you really have to celebrate your birthday on the day your grandparents died?" Melissa asked.

"Yes! It's not my fault you decided to have me on that day!" Rosie snapped, her voice full of resentment.

"Fine. I won't be going to your birthday, then. I'll be in Marain next week, and when I get back, I'm divorcing your father. Think long and hard about who you want to live with."

"I'll live with Daddy!" Rosie replied, not missing a beat. "I don't want a mommy like you! I'd rather have Aunt Nancy be my mommy!"

Color drained from Melissa's face. It took a moment before she managed to say, "Suit yourself!"

Nancy stood on the second-floor landing, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. Those two slaps she'd taken hadn't been for nothing.

Melissa was asking for a divorce.

Nancy made her way into Brad's bedroom, eager to see his reaction. The moment she stepped inside, tears spilled down her swollen, reddened cheeks.

"Melissa's going to Marain, Brad," she said.

Brad's back still throbbed with pain, and the fire in his chest hadn't gone out.

"She better not come back," he snapped.

A quiet thrill stirred in Nancy's chest.

Brad had always been the golden boy of high society, always confident and proud. So when Melissa flipped him over her shoulder, that blow shattered his ego.

"But Brad," Nancy said, "I'm really worried Melissa might do something impulsive and actually leave you."

Brad raised an eyebrow, caught off guard for a split second. Then his face settled into that familiar mask of cool indifference.

"Let her. If she wants a divorce, that's her choice. It doesn't bother me."

Melissa only had two people left in the world she could call family; Brad and Rosie. If either of them so much as caught a cold, she would've taken it on herself in a heartbeat.

Divorce? She could never go through with it.

…

Melissa made it to the airport, but her nerves were still frayed.

She was dying for a cigarette, but there wasn't a smoking area in sight. So she stuck an unlit one between her teeth and took deep breaths.

In her six years of marriage to Brad, she'd developed two generations of imaging chips for Heartbeat Tech.

The X2+ chip, in particular, had sent global sales of their flagship phones soaring. She and Brad weren't just partners in marriage but also in profit.

Now, divorcing Brad meant unraveling that shared fortune, and it was gearing up to be one hell of a fight.

After a long pause, Melissa took out her phone and texted her assistant, Mabel Abbott. "You've got one week. Dig up everything on Brad's debts, assets, and any transactions linked to Nancy."

"Miss, you can't smoke here."

Melissa felt a small tug on her sleeve. She looked down to see a plainly dressed little girl staring up at her.

Abigail Sheehan's eyes weren't especially big, but they sparkled with life.

Melissa frowned and slipped the unlit cigarette from her lips, holding it between two fingers. "You know that sticking your nose where it doesn't belong can get you in trouble, right?"

"I know. But I'm not scared."

Abigail lit up like sunshine and reached into her pocket. She took out a piece of candy, holding it out to Melissa.

"My dad only lets me have one a day. You can have my candy today. It'll make your face hurt less."

Melissa paused, thrown by the sincerity in Abigail's expression. Then she reached for the candy.

Somehow, she'd crossed paths with a little girl whose heart was far too big for her small frame.

And with just one piece of candy, Abigail had brought a flicker of sweetness to a day that had been nothing but bitter.

…

At Marain Cemetery, Melissa sat between Andrew's and Ethel's tombstones, a mask covering her face. It felt just like it used to, her nestled between them, as if time hadn't moved on.

But she'd never found Andrew's remains.

When the earthquake hit, the ground had torn open like a jagged maw, swallowing countless lives. Andrew had been one of them.

Now, on her knees, Melissa scrubbed their graves.

The cemetery groundskeeper, Neil Reimer, wandered over. "Hey, Mel. Mr. Dalton not with you this year?"

"He's busy," Melissa replied, her tone clipped.

Busy comforting Nancy, the so-called sister he'd raised like his own. But calling her that was just for show. In truth, Nancy was more like a backup plan.

Brad had brought her up himself, and the idea of her ending up with another man clearly didn't sit well with him. He wanted to keep her all to himself, but he still hadn't crossed that final line.

Even so, just thinking about the two of them left Melissa uneasy. It was like their twisted bond might somehow disturb whatever peace Andrew and Ethel had finally found in the afterlife.

She said her goodbyes to her parents, then fell into step beside Neil as they headed toward the cemetery gates.

A wide expanse of gravestones stretched out before them. Melissa stared straight ahead, her eyes dark, unreadable.

"Mr. Reimer, still no sign of Dr. McCarthy's family?" she asked.

Neil shook his head. "Not yet. But I've got people keeping an eye out."

Melissa nodded solemnly.

Back then, when they pulled her from the rubble, she'd been barely clinging to life. It was Jacinta McCarthy who had performed the emergency C-section and given her a blood transfusion to save her.

But later that same day, while cradling the newborn of another mother who hadn't made it, Jacinta rushed to begin emergency treatment on the baby. That was when the aftershock hit. She didn't survive.

Later, Melissa had asked Brad to track down Jacinta's family. She wanted to help in any way she could.

Even after pulling every string, all Brad managed to find was that Jacinta had been from Brixtonvale and married to another doctor.

Now, Melissa smoothed out her clothes, stepped quietly up to Jacinta's grave, and bowed her head in silent respect.

…

On the anniversary of the tragedy, Melissa heard nothing from Brad or Rosie. Only Jessica Moseley, who was close to her, had reached out with words of comfort.

That night, the Marain government held a candlelight vigil at the cemetery to honor the lives lost in the earthquake.

The air carried a quiet, unspoken hope, that the light of remembrance would endure, and that, in time, peace would find its way to every soul.

All around her, grieving families wept, clinging to the memories of loved ones they'd never see again.

Melissa's eyes brimmed with tears. In her heart, she whispered, "Mom, Dad, I hope you've found peace. And I hope one day, we'll be together again."

She lit a memorial candle and watched the flame flicker gently in the breeze.

Just then, a video from Nancy popped up on Melissa's phone. It was shot at the hotel owned by Heartbeat Tech.

Rosie stood in the middle of the crowd, beaming as she shouted, "Celebrating my birthday on the real day is the best! I hope every year is just like this, with Daddy and Aunt Nancy right here with me!"

Brad and Nancy stood close by, fingers laced, sharing a smile. In the flickering light, the look they shared smoldered with a quiet tension, like lovers caught in the space between restraint and surrender.

Melissa's grip on her phone tightened until her knuckles turned white. She stepped back, pulled her mask down, and tried to steady herself with a few deep breaths.

Then, out of nowhere, a child's scream pierced the air.

She spun around. Up ahead, a tall man in white was moving quickly, a little girl slung under his arm like a sack of potatoes.

A kidnapping?

Melissa knew better than to charge in blind. Instead, she shouted, "Hey! Stop! Put her down!"

The girl turned her head at the sound of her voice. Her eyes lit up, and she let out a joyful gasp. "Miss! It's me! It's me!"

The moment Melissa recognized the little girl from the airport—the one who'd handed her candy—she didn't hesitate. She clenched her fist and aimed a hard punch at the man's nape.

But he sensed it coming. He moved with the reflexes of a trained fighter, dodging smoothly and countering with a sharp, ruthless blow. It was fast, surgical, and meant to take her down.

Melissa twisted out of the way just in time.

Their eyes locked.

He was tall and lean, his expression calm, like nothing in the world could rattle him. His silver-rimmed glasses caught the streetlight, casting a cold gleam that gave him an almost menacing edge.

But the sharpness faded the instant his eyes met hers.

"It's you?"

Chapter 4

Melissa brushed off Seamus Sheehan's strange comment and locked eyes with him.

"Put the child down!" she ordered.

He didn't move.

She'd trained in martial arts since she was a kid. She'd once taken down five karate champions back-to-back. Fear wasn't in her vocabulary.

Without a second thought, she threw another punch.

Seamus shifted, oddly courteous. He blocked her punch with one hand, dodging cleanly without striking back.

Melissa seized the moment and launched a kick at him.

"Miss, wait! He's my dad!" Abigail shouted, voice tight with panic.

Melissa pulled her leg back so fast she stumbled. She caught herself just in time. Then, from the edge of her vision, she caught sight of a pair of sleek, well-made sneakers stepping toward her.

"Are you okay?" Seamus asked gently.

Melissa didn't answer. Her eyes shifted to Abigail. "He's really your dad? Then why did you scream?"

Abigail gave a sheepish nod. "I wanted to light a candle, but Daddy said no."

Melissa turned toward Seamus. He looked to be around her age, but there was something strangely layered about the way he carried himself.

A second ago, he'd thrown a punch—clean, ruthless, unhesitating. Now, he stood there with the calm poise of a professor, a faint smile playing at his lips.

He adjusted his glasses with quiet composure and said calmly, "It's too crowded. I didn't want her getting lost."

"I'm not the one who gets lost, Daddy. You're the one who vanishes all the time," Abigail shot back.

She leaned in close and whispered to Melissa like they were sharing a secret. "Miss, my daddy might look all impressive, but don't be fooled. He's hopeless with directions. He can't even follow a GPS."

Melissa blinked, thrown off by the sudden confession.

Seriously? She thought Seamus must be a total idiot.

Seamus shot Abigail a glare, clearly offended. But the second Melissa looked his way, he just admitted it without hesitation.

"Yeah, I'm lost. Do you mind showing us the way out of the cemetery?"

Melissa said nothing.

Abigail bounced along in Melissa's shadow, her words tumbling out in a sing-song voice. "Miss, my name's Abigail. It means 'father's joy.' My daddy's name is Seamus Sheehan. It rhymes with 'famous.'"

Melissa tried to stay present, but something about Seamus clung to her thoughts. He seemed like the kind of man who'd given up wanting anything at all.

She tilted her head, studying him from the corner of her eye. His crisp white shirt and black slacks made a flawless pairing, lending him a clean, almost ascetic look.

With hands tucked behind his back, gaze pinned to the ground, face blank as stone, he looked like a priest who'd long since turned away from worldly desires.

But it was all an illusion. If he'd really risen above temptation, Abigail would've never existed.

Melissa had stared for too long. Seamus noticed and met her eyes.

He spoke with the easy tone of someone chatting with an old friend. "You're one hell of a fighter. I hope I'm not going out of line, but what happened to your face?"

"Isn't it obvious? Someone hit me," Melissa answered bluntly.

"Who?"

She gave him a sideways glance. "That's not your business. The exit's just up ahead. Goodbye."

She walked alone into the dark without looking back.

Behind her, Seamus watched. Shadows stirred behind the lenses of his glasses, quiet and unreadable.

…

Melissa had barely stepped off the plane at Brixtonvale Airport when her phone rang. It was Mabel.

"Ms. Hensley, I've sent Mr. Dalton's financial records, including every transfer he made to Nancy over the past six years. It's all in your inbox."

"Thanks. Make sure the private investigator is paid in full."

Once she'd gone through the documents, Melissa forced herself to stay calm and called Brad.

"Where are you?" she asked.

"Home. Mom and Dad just got back from Eostria."

Brad ended the call, his expression unreadable.

When he looked up, he saw Nancy standing beside the table. Her tone was gentle, almost pleading, as she addressed his father, Robert Dalton, who sat stiffly at the head.

"Melissa didn't mean to hurt Brad and me, Robert. She's finally calmed down and come home. Please, don't be so hard on her, okay?"

Robert slammed his glass down hard. "Unbelievable! First, she hits you, then Brad? If this gets out, we'll be the laughingstock of the entire city!"

He turned a hard glare on Brad. "This is all your fault. She turned out this way because you coddled her!"

Brad's mother, Ramona Jennings, jumped in without hesitation. She rushed to defend him, pinning all the blame on Melissa.

"How is any of this Brad's fault? Melissa's the one who's gotten out of line. When she gets back, someone needs to set her straight."

While the adults argued, little Rosie padded over to Brad. "Daddy, is Mommy coming home?"

Brad gently ruffled her hair, then asked Beatrice to take her upstairs to play.

Rosie was angry. She couldn't wrap her head around why Melissa had to come back. All she ever did was suck the joy out of everything.

Just the thought of her showing up and nitpicking every little thing bugged Rosie.

Brad was fed up too. Ever since he got married, he'd kept his distance from other women. The only one he cared about was Nancy, who had no one else to turn to.

What was Melissa so jealous of? Hadn't he done enough to make her feel secure?

All his friends had a few mistresses. They called him a freak because he didn't have one.

They'd warned Brad that if he treated a woman too well, she'd end up walking all over him. And now? He was starting to think they might've been right.

…

Melissa pulled up to Rosethorne Manor.

As she took in the exquisite architecture, the memory came rushing back. This was where Brad had proposed.

He'd said, "The moment I saw you at the campus recruitment fair, I told myself I'm going to marry you. I'll love you for the rest of my life."

Only six years had passed, but everything had changed the moment Nancy returned from abroad.

The thought gnawed at Melissa. Had Brad been in love with Nancy all along?

Maybe Nancy was the one he'd truly wanted. But back then, Nancy had been too young, and more than that, she was supposed to be his "sister".

Was Melissa just the convenient choice? Someone to fill the space until Nancy came back?

Melissa's eyes went cold.

She dropped her suitcase by the door and stepped into the hallway, just as a cup came flying straight at her. She jerked to the side, barely dodging it.

It shattered on the floor. Scalding water splashed her arm, and angry blisters sprang up almost immediately.

Brad's jaw clenched. He started to stand, then paused, like something had clicked. Slowly, he sank back into his chair.

Melissa's brow was slick with sweat from the pain as her blade-like stare swept across the room.

Brad didn't flinch. Robert took a slow sip of his coffee, and Nancy's eyes gleamed with smug satisfaction. Meanwhile, Ramona let out a cold, mocking laugh.

"Take this as a warning, Melissa," Ramona said. "The Daltons don't put up with your kind of trouble. Now get on your knees and apologize to Nancy and Brad—"

Before she could finish, Melissa dropped low, grabbed a handful of shattered porcelain, and flung it at Brad's head.

He didn't even have time to react. One shard caught him across the forehead, and blood flowed out instantly.

Melissa turned to Ramona. "Touch me, and Brad pays double!"

Her heart wasn't made of stone. Hurting Brad would scar her too.

But the truth was, Brad and the Daltons had struck first. She wasn't about to show mercy to anyone who'd wronged her, not even the man she loved.

"How dare you!" Robert slammed the table and shot to his feet. But before he could let loose, Ramona buckled, collapsing like a bird struck mid-flight.

Then all hell broke loose.

In a flash, Brad lunged. His hand clamped around Melissa's throat as he drove her into the wall, veins bulging in his forearm.

"You've really outdone yourself this time, Melissa!"

Chapter 5

Melissa had intended to have an open conversation about divorce, but she never imagined it would nearly turn deadly.

Ramona was consumed by rage. Her blood pressure spiked, her body tensed, and then something ruptured. She suffered a brain hemorrhage right there in the middle of their argument.

The bleeding was severe. Even with surgery, the chances of her ending up in a vegetative state were high.

The doctors were wary of the Daltons' influence. A failed outcome wouldn't just be a medical setback. It could have serious consequences. So they kept their distance, careful not to get involved.

Benjamin Wallace, director of Avora Care Hospital, had recommended a medical professor named Seamus to Brad, who'd just returned from overseas.

Seamus wasn't officially starting until the next day, so Benjamin passed along his contact information and suggested Brad try reaching out.

About an hour later, Brad came back looking unusually deflated.

Seamus had been polite, but his oddball personality had left Brad completely thrown.

Brad had called Seamus first. He introduced himself, laid out what he wanted, and even offered a generous payment.

However, Seamus had been unmoved. "Sorry, Mr. Dalton. You'll have to find someone else."

Refusing to back off, Brad used the address Benjamin had given him and showed up at Seamus' doorstep.

This time, Seamus' eyes had lingered on the cut above Brad's brow. He studied it for a moment before asking, almost curious, "Who gave you that?"

Brad hadn't bothered to answer. What did it matter? Whoever hurt him had nothing to do with Ramona's surgery.

A beat later, the door shut in his face.

He couldn't explain it, but it felt like Seamus had something against him.

"Seamus is the only one who can do this surgery," Robert said, his voice sharp and final.

Then he shot Melissa a venomous glare. "I don't care how you make it happen, but get Seamus. If anything happens to Ramona, you can think long and hard about Heart Haven's future."

Melissa and Brad had built Heart Haven under the umbrella of Heartbeat Tech. It was a refuge for earthquake survivors who could no longer live independently. Every resident was living with a disability.

And as chairman of Heartbeat Tech, Robert had the power to shut it down.

Melissa's hands curled into fists. He had her cornered.

After Robert left, Brad didn't spare Melissa a glance as he told Benjamin to find another surgeon. He didn't believe for a second that she could convince Seamus to do the surgery.

Brad had brought Seamus a collection of priceless artifacts, only to be waved off without so much as a glance.

Melissa held her burned arm and called after him as he headed for the doctor's office.

He turned. His face was like stone.

"I have one condition," she said. "If I can get Professor Sheehan to perform Ramona's surgery, you have to promise me a clean divorce."

Brad's shoulders tensed just for a second. "Come talk to me after you actually get him here."

Who the hell did she think she was? What other man would ever put up with her? And him? He sure as hell wasn't going to play along anymore.

…

Melissa stared at the number in her hand and let out a long, weary sigh. If she'd known she'd need Seamus' help, maybe she wouldn't have been so cold to him at Marain yesterday.

But that ship had sailed. Now all she could do was swallow her pride and try.

She punched in the number.

The line rang.

Her heartbeat—steady for years—suddenly skipped, then stuttered, like it wasn't sure what came next.

The call connected on the final ring. Seamus' voice came through, smooth as ever, though underneath, there was the slightest tremble.

"This is Seamus. May I ask who's calling?"

The unexpected politeness caught Melissa off guard.

"It's… Melissa Hensley," she said.

Realizing he probably wouldn't recognize her name, she quickly added, "We met last night at Marain. I was the one who helped you and Abigail out of the cemetery."

"Yeah, I remember."

Melissa chose her words carefully. "Sorry to call out of the blue, but I need a huge favor. My mother-in-law had a brain hemorrhage. She's at Avora Care Hosp—"

"I'll be right there!"

"Huh?"

Melissa blinked. Had she heard that right?

"I can get there in about 15 minutes," Seamus said.

"Oh, okay!"

Even after hanging up, Melissa still felt a little stunned.

Had she really just convinced Seamus to take the case? It had to be because she'd "saved" Abigail last night.

Maybe kindness did come back around. Sometimes, it showed up when one least expected it.

…

Melissa hadn't eaten lunch. She pressed a hand to her aching stomach just as a voice came from above.

"Are you hurt again?"

She looked up slowly. Seamus was staring at the blisters on her arm. His face was all sharp angles—too handsome, with a kind of quiet, refined grace.

"Professor Sheehan—"

She stood, about to explain Ramona's condition, but he cut her off. "Let me take care of those."

His voice was warm, like sunlight on bare skin.

"Don't worry about me," Melissa said. "There are patients in a more critical condition. They need you more than I do."

Seamus paused, considering. "I treat patients in the order they come in. I wouldn't feel right skipping over you."

Melissa raised her eyebrows, caught off guard. "Fine then."

They walked side by side, keeping a careful distance. Not too close, not too far.

Just then, a man in a white coat spotted Seamus and veered over to him.

"Seamus? I thought you weren't coming in till tomorrow." Felix Sanford's eyes landed on Melissa, and for a split second, surprise lit up his face. "Wait, isn't this—"

Seamus cut him off. "Dr. Sanford, I'm with a patient. If you've got something to do, go do it."

Felix took the hint and backed off with an exaggerated drawl. "Right, right. Message received."

Melissa tucked her wavy, shoulder-length hair behind her ears as she sat down, revealing the pale curve of her ears.

She wasn't exactly the smiling type, and right now, smiling couldn't have been further from her mind. Her usual cool detachment clung to her like a second skin.

And yet Seamus, annoyingly chatty like they were old friends, had the nerve to ask if the injuries on her face and arms were from her husband.

Melissa wasn't in the habit of sharing her pain with strangers. She brushed off the question and steered the conversation in another direction.

"Professor Sheehan, my mother-in-law has chronic hypertension. A sudden burst of anger spiked her blood pressure and triggered a brain hemorrhage. I'm begging you. Please do everything you can to treat her. I can't afford any lasting complications. That matters more than anything to me."

Seamus froze with the ointment halfway to her skin. "You and your mother-in-law get along?"

"No. We can't stand each other! But even so, please, Professor Sheehan. Do this for me. I'll pay you back one day. I won't forget it."

He watched her quietly.

Her eyes were striking, almost hypnotic, and her voice carried a polished sweetness. However, her stare was pure ice. And beneath it, something bitter lingered.

Had the past few years really been that unkind to her?

…

Brad stepped out of the doctor's office and called Nancy the moment he was outside. She scared easily. He knew she had to be a mess by now.

Sure enough, she was still crying when she picked up, her voice shaking.

"Brad, how's Ramona? Is your cut still bleeding? I'm so scared something's going to happen to you. Is Melissa still there? I want to come to the hospital, but I'm afraid she'll get upset…"

Brad said nothing, his gaze fixed on Seamus and Melissa, standing only a few feet away.

They were too close.

Seamus leaned in over her, his frame casting a shadow that seemed to swallow her whole. On the polished floor, their reflections blurred together.