Chapter 1

Eleanor Hayes was Citadel's most dazzling and spoiled beauty. With a single glance, she could enthrall any man, and whispers claimed her admirers stretched for miles. Yet, as the Hayes family's daughter, she hardly noticed them.

That all changed when her best friend, Wendy Grant, made a bet. "Eleanor, if you can win over my uncle, Alexander, you can choose any car from my garage."

Alexander Grant, the head of Grant Group, was cold, disciplined, and utterly proud. He was a man no socialite would dare approach, and rumors said that even the boldest dared not come near him.

Eleanor only smiled. She had never failed to get what she wanted, yet even the most carefully laid plans could be upended by the unexpected.

On the very first day of the bet, she stumbled upon a drugged Alexander. Eleanor had always planned to get close to him, but by accident, she became the antidote he needed. That night, the seemingly eternal ice of Alexander's heart cracked just enough for her to slip through.

For three years, they had been inseparable, and with every shared moment, Eleanor's heart had quietly given in. She had believed this man, worshipped by countless others, was hers alone—until that night shattered her certainty.

After their intimate moment in the car, Eleanor spotted his sapphire cufflink lying on the seat. She picked it up, planning to return it to him.

At the end of the hallway, the private room's door stood slightly open, and laughter and chatter rang out as she approached.

"Alexander, are you just back from a night with her? Eleanor's usually a fiery wildcat who ignores everyone, but with you, she's all sweet and soft. Even I'm jealous. When are you going to make her yours?"

Eleanor's steps faltered, and her chest tightened when that cold, familiar voice reached her. "She's just someone I sleep with. Why would I marry her?"

Those words cut through Eleanor's heart like frozen shards, splintering her chest in an instant.

The private room fell into an eerie silence. Even his closest friends seemed stunned by the cruel clarity of his words.

Silence stretched on before someone finally asked, "Alexander, it's been three years. Are you still hung up on your first love?"

First love? Did Alexander have a first love?

Eleanor's mind went blank. She stood frozen outside the door, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, as Alexander let out a faint, casual hum.

"After we broke up, she asked for three years. She wanted to see other people, and she expected me to do the same. If we still loved each other after that, we could get back together. She's always been restless, never feeling secure, so I let her have her way."

His voice faltered slightly, carrying a subtle, unmistakable hope. "Three years have passed. She should be back soon."

Eleanor felt as though her heart had been ripped from her chest. Her entire body went cold, down to the trembling tips of her fingers.

For three years, every intimate moment she had believed was shared affection turned out to be nothing more than his experiment.

"What about Eleanor? She's stubborn and fiery. If she ever finds out—"

Before the sentence could even be finished, Eleanor shoved open the heavy door.

The room went silent as everyone turned to look at her. She looked almost ghostly in her pale skin, but her eyes, rimmed with red and glistening, burned with unyielding intensity. She paid no attention to anyone else, staring only at Alexander in the center.

Alexander wore a crisp, well-fitted suit, exuding an unnerving calm. He showed no hint of surprise or fluster at her sudden appearance, maintaining that same cold, unshakable calm, as if nothing could faze him.

It was precisely that cold composure that felt like salt on Eleanor's bleeding heart. If he had even the slightest affection for her, he could never have reacted like this.

She stepped in front of him, staring at the face she had loved for three years. "Alexander, don't you have anything to say to me?"

Alexander lifted his gaze and looked at her calmly. "I have nothing to say. It's exactly as you've heard. We're just partners-with-benefits. I always thought you knew that.

"Wendy made a bet with you—win me over, and you could pick any car from her garage. If a luxury car isn't enough…"

His long fingers slid a bank card from his suit pocket and gently pushed it onto the coffee table in front of Eleanor.

"100 million dollars. Consider it payment for being at my disposal these past three years. With that, our relationship is over."

He stood and began to walk away.

Just as he passed, Eleanor shot out her hand and gripped his wrist with all her strength, her hand ice-cold and her fingers white from the force of her grip.

Alexander paused. The proud, unyielding woman he knew was now clinging to him, as if he were her only lifeline.

Her voice broke as she spoke each word, yet every syllable struck with piercing clarity through the silent room.

"But I fell for you!"

She didn't even realize when her heart had slipped away.

Perhaps it was that winter day when she was too lazy to put on shoes, and he knelt to slide slippers onto her cold feet, with his warm hands holding her ankles.

Perhaps it was after her appendix surgery, when she woke up, groggy and in pain, and the first thing she saw was him at her bedside, with a faint shadow under his eyes.

Perhaps it was countless late nights when he returned from events, carrying the faint scent of alcohol, yet still remembered her fear of thunder and pulled her close into his arms.

Those ordinary, fleeting little moments had gradually built into a tidal wave that completely overwhelmed her. Yet now, he was casually telling her that she meant nothing more to him than a casual fling.

"Alexander, you are so cruel," she thought.

His lips parted as if he were about to speak, but his phone rang, breaking the silence. He pulled it out, and the screen lit up, casting a cold glow that revealed the message before Eleanor's eyes.

"Alexander, three years have passed. I've tried, but I still only love you. Let's get back together."

At that instant, Eleanor felt her entire world crumble around her. Alexander's eyes stayed on the screen for a second too long before he gently pulled her hand away.

"Sorry," he murmured. "I never loved you."

And just like that, he turned and walked off, never once looking back.

Chapter 2

Alexander said he never fell for her. For the past three years, Eleanor had been the only fool, pouring her whole heart into a story he had scripted from the start.

Eleanor stood frozen, staring at her empty hand. The warmth from his wrist still lingered on her skin, but it burned now, like a hot iron searing into flesh.

In the next instant, she grabbed the bottle of expensive liquor from the coffee table and hurled it to the floor.

The shattering sound echoed through the private lounge. Glasses, fruit plates, ornaments—anything within reach became her outlet for pain. Everyone else in the room was too stunned to intervene.

No one knew how long it lasted before Eleanor's strength finally gave out. Her eyes were hollow, cheeks streaked with tears, yet a faint, broken laugh slipped past her lips.

She didn't even remember how she made it out of the club. A rush of night wind chilled her face. She wiped her tears carelessly and hailed a cab.

"Follow that Maybach."

She had to see for herself who Alexander's so-called first love was—the woman he had longed for over three years, the one Eleanor could never measure up to.

The driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror but kept quiet, stepping on the gas to follow.

Alexander, who was usually calm and collected behind the wheel, was driving noticeably faster tonight. Was he really that eager to see his precious first love?

The car came to a stop on the floor of the international airport's arrivals hall.

Eleanor paid the fare and stumbled out, hiding behind a pillar.

She spotted Alexander at the exit, and then a graceful woman in a white dress emerged, pulling a suitcase behind her.

The moment Eleanor saw her face, her world seemed to shatter.

It wasn't just because Alexander caught her as she ran into his arms, holding her close and pressing a gentle kiss to her hair with disarming tenderness—it was because the woman in his embrace, the one he treated as if she might break at the slightest touch, was Amelia Hayes.

Amelia was her half sister—the last person Eleanor ever wanted to see.

Years ago, barely six months after her mother, Elizabeth Morgan, died in a car crash, her father, Robert Hayes, brought another woman into their home—Patricia Reed. Patricia had brought along her daughter, Amelia, who was three years older than Eleanor.

Robert claimed Patricia was his first love, and Amelia was his biological child. He said that if Elizabeth hadn't forced him into marriage, he would never have broken up with Patricia, who had been pregnant with his child at the time.

How absurd.

Eleanor knew the truth better than anyone.

Back then, Robert had been utterly desperate. His business was collapsing, and he could barely keep himself fed. It was he who had gone to Elizabeth—the woman who had loved him for years—and promised to marry her in exchange for the Morgan family's investment in his company.

Elizabeth had given him everything—her wealth, her love, and even her life. She died saving him, pushing him out of the way of that fatal crash.

And what did Robert do? Before her body was even cold, he took her fortune and inheritance to marry his so-called first love in grand style.

Alexander could have loved anyone. Why did it have to be Amelia?

Eleanor bit her lip until it bled, yet she was too numb to notice. By the time she came to her senses, Alexander was already holding Amelia's suitcase, holding her waist as he guided her toward the parking lot.

Like someone possessed, Eleanor hailed another cab and followed them.

From where she sat, she could see everything through the windshield—the way Alexander turned to speak gently to Amelia, the warmth in his eyes, and the effortless intimacy as he reached over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

That kind of gentle care, that natural tenderness, was something Eleanor had never experienced in all the years she'd been with him.

Her heart felt as if it were being ground beneath a millstone, crushed again and again until she could hardly breathe.

Tears blurred her vision just as a sudden commotion erupted ahead.

The screech of tires and a deafening crash tore through the night. Eleanor's cab slammed into the Maybach in front of them before it was violently rear-ended by the car behind.

The impact was brutal. Eleanor's forehead struck the seat in front of her with a sharp crack. Pain exploded across her skull, and she felt warm liquid trickle down her face, clouding her sight.

Amid the chaos—the screams and the sound of shattering glass—she caught a glimpse of the familiar Maybach door swinging open through the fractured window.

Alexander was the first to step out. He hurried to the passenger seat, opened the door, and gently lifted Amelia into his arms. He held her in his arms, frowning as he looked over her injuries, his face filled with worry and tenderness.

With Amelia still in his arms, he turned to leave the crash site. Then, through the splintered glass, his gaze collided with Eleanor's. Her face was streaked with blood, and her body was trapped beneath the cab's twisted frame.

For a fleeting moment, she caught a flash of shock in his normally composed eyes, only for it to disappear almost instantly.

Amelia seemed to sense his hesitation. She asked softly, "Alexander, what's wrong? Did you see someone you know? I'm fine, really. It's just a small scratch. If there's someone you recognize, you should go check on them. I heard one of the cabs was hit pretty badly."

Alexander stayed silent for a few seconds before finally looking away.

"I know none of them," he said quietly. "They're all strangers."

With that, he carried Amelia away without a backward glance, leaving the wreckage and chaos behind.

Eleanor stared after him, and a broken smile appeared on her trembling lips as tears mixed with the blood running down her face.

Strangers. So, that was all she had ever been to him. For three years, she had been nothing more than a stranger in his world.

Chapter 3

When Eleanor woke again, she was in a hospital room.

A nurse was adjusting the IV in her hand and looked relieved to see her awake. "Ms. Hayes, you're finally awake. Your injuries are quite serious. You'll need to stay for observation, and we'll also need to contact your family to settle the medical fees."

Eleanor stared blankly at the ceiling.

"Ms. Hayes?" the nurse called again.

"The bill's been paid."

The deep, familiar voice at the doorway made her heart seize painfully. Eleanor jerked her head to the side and saw Alexander standing in the doorway, dressed in a black suit.

Sensing the tension, the nurse quickly excused herself.

Alexander entered the room, scanning her bandaged wounds in silence before reaching out, as if to check her forehead.

Eleanor tilted her head away. "Mr. Grant, you're a busy man. Why bother visiting someone who has nothing to do with you?"

He froze for a moment.

"If I didn't come, who else would?" he said.

The words cut straight through her like the sharpest blade, striking the place she had tried hardest to protect.

Who else, indeed? Her mother had died young. Her father favored his new wife, and her stepmother was a hypocrite. That house had never truly been her home.

She had learned to hide behind arrogance and rebellion, pretending she needed no one and cared for nothing.

For three years, it had been Alexander who appeared whenever she was at her lowest, until she'd grown used to his presence, mistaking it for safety.

And now, it was he who had pushed her back into the abyss.

Eleanor's heart ached to the point of numbness. "Even if no one else came, it's none of your concern. You're the one who said we were done, remember? Mr. Grant, I'm not pathetic enough to cling to someone who doesn't want me."

She took a deep breath, clinging to the last trace of her pride. "You didn't seriously think I meant it when I said I had feelings for you, did you? It was all talk.

"You treated me like a fling, and I treated you like a toy. You weren't even that good. Once I'm better, I'll find someone younger and better to keep me entertained."

Alexander frowned slightly as he looked at her. She tried to look fierce, but her eyes were red with tears.

Just then, a nurse burst in. "Mr. Grant, Ms. Amelia's tests are done. She's been looking for you."

Eleanor's reaction was instant, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. "Go and take care of your perfect little darling. I don't need you here!"

Alexander stared at her for a long moment before finally saying, "I'm not here for any other reason. You're Wendy's best friend, and she asked me to look after you."

Eleanor finally laughed. It was a broken, shaking laugh that pulled at her wounds, though none of the pain in her body could compare to the one in her chest.

"Relax, Alexander," she said, wiping her tear-streaked face. "I'm not that delusional."

Alexander felt a faint tremor in his chest. Something seemed to flash through his deep eyes, vanishing so quickly it was impossible to catch.

It was the first time Alexander had ever seen Eleanor cry.

Even when he'd been rough with her in bed, she had only bitten her lip in defiance, looking at him with reddened eyes but never shedding a tear.

He frowned deeper at the sight of her tear-streaked face. His Adam's apple shifted as though he wanted to say something, but in the end, he said nothing. He turned around and followed the nurse out of the room.

As he turned and left the room, Eleanor's strength drained away. She collapsed against the bed, letting silent tears soak through her pillow.

She thought she would cry for a long time, but strangely, the tears ran dry quickly. What remained was only a hollow, frozen stillness.

The days that followed passed in solitude. She stayed in the hospital alone, tending to herself. The pain of changing her bandages left her drenched in cold sweat, and every meal tasted like ash.

From the VIP ward down the hall, she often overheard people marveling at how fortunate Amelia was. They said Alexander was attentive and gentle, feeding her himself, staying overnight to keep her company, and caring for her as if she were something fragile and precious.

As she walked past the ward one afternoon, Eleanor glimpsed through the half-open door and saw Alexander sitting by the bed, slicing an apple. Amelia leaned against his shoulder, smiling softly.

The sight pierced her like a red-hot nail, burning its way into her eyes until her vision went dark and her chest clenched in unbearable pain.

However, she didn't cry.

Eleanor's greatest strength had always been knowing when to love and when to let go.

From that moment on, she swore she would never shed another tear for Alexander.

After being discharged, the first thing she did was apply for a visa. She didn't want to stay in this city for another moment.

Chapter 4

After getting her visa, Eleanor returned home. The moment she stepped through the door, she came face-to-face with her elegantly made-up stepmother, Patricia.

Patricia immediately slipped into her usual lecturing tone. "So, Elean, you still know how to come home, huh? How many nights have you been out? You're a young lady. What kind of behavior is this?"

Eleanor didn't even glance at her. She walked straight to the entryway and smashed a tall porcelain vase against the floor. The vase hit the floor with a sharp crash, sending fragments skittering across the marble.

Patricia screamed and stumbled back in fright.

Eleanor's face remained calm, though her bright features were etched with cold mockery. "Tell me, Patricia—what exactly makes you think you can play the one with morals here? You broke up someone else's marriage, and now you dare to lecture her daughter?

"Keep this in mind, Patricia. As long as I live under this roof, you'll never have the right to hold your head high."

Patricia's face turned pale, and her whole body trembled with anger. "Eleanor! What's wrong with you now?"

Robert burst out of his study at the sound. He hurried to steady a trembling Patricia, then turned on Eleanor with fury. "Eleanor! What are you doing now? You've been home for barely a minute, and you're already causing chaos! Can't you behave for once?"

As Eleanor watched Robert shield Patricia, her heart went cold. Bitterness was all she had left to feel.

She let out a low, mirthless laugh. "I'm the one causing chaos? Fine. Give me my share of the inheritance now, and I'll leave the country. You'll never have to see me again."

Robert froze, then forced a mask of fatherly concern. "What nonsense! Go abroad? You're a young woman—why would you do that? Stay here. This will always be your home. We're family."

Eleanor let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Family? Don't fool yourself, Robert. You, Patricia, and Amelia are the real family. When my mother died, whatever family I had died with her."

Eleanor added flatly, "Just name a price. I want what's rightfully mine."

Robert's expression turned grim. After a long silence, he forced a measured tone and said, "I know you're holding a grudge against the family. How about this? I'll give you five million dollars. Go travel—take some time to cool off."

Eleanor let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Five million dollars? Robert, everything you have today came from my mother's family—the Morgans. Her money built your empire, and her life was the price for yours.

"Now, you're using her fortune to pamper your mistress and your illegitimate daughter, living in the house she bought. Do you really think five million is enough to buy off her own child?"

She took a step forward and sharply asked, "Don't you feel any shame?"

Robert's face flushed with anger and humiliation. "How much do you want, then? Spit it out!"

Eleanor had come prepared. She pulled a document from her bag and calmly listed a string of figures and company shares.

"You're insane!" Robert exploded. "That would gut half of Hayes Group!"

Eleanor didn't flinch. She walked to the window, gazing down at the garden below. She adopted a sweet tone, though what followed was chilling.

"You don't agree? Fine. I planted explosives outside the villa. Either you give me what I asked for and sign this agreement, or we die here together today. It's your choice."

Robert's eyes widened in horror. He pointed a shaking finger at her. "You're a lunatic!"

"Yes," Eleanor said evenly. "I'm a lunatic, driven to this point by every one of you."

Robert's face turned ashen. His breath quickened as he stared at her, trying to tell whether she meant it.

In the end, fear of death outweighed everything else.

He collapsed onto the couch, drenched in cold sweat. His trembling hand scrawled his signature across Eleanor's property division agreement.

"Get rid of the bomb now!" he said, his voice trembling uncontrollably.

Eleanor picked up the document and checked the signature with care. A cold, mocking smile curved her lips.

"Relax. There's no bomb. You're easy to fool. After all, that's exactly how you tricked my mother into marrying you, isn't it? Like father, like daughter."

It took Robert a moment to realize he'd been played. His face turned ashen again, this time with fury, and he could barely breathe. He pointed at her, stammering, "You…" but couldn't get a single word out.

Eleanor couldn't be bothered to look at him again. She turned toward the stairs.

"Stop right there!" Robert's voice came out hoarse as he tried to steady his rage. "Your sister's bringing her boyfriend home for dinner tonight. I don't care what kind of nonsense you've pulled before, but this time, you'll sit through that meal and behave yourself!"

His tone hardened, laced with warning. "Her boyfriend is Alexander Grant! You know exactly what the Grants mean in Citadel. We can't afford to offend them. So, drop the attitude, and don't cause trouble for me."

Eleanor froze mid-step, her entire body stiffening.

Alexander was coming here as Amelia's boyfriend today.

At that moment, the front door opened, and Amelia entered with Alexander by her side, linking arms with a radiant smile.

Chapter 5

"Dad, Mom, I'm home!"

Having just regained their composure, Robert and Patricia immediately lit up with warm, welcoming smiles. They fussed over Amelia with genuine concern while addressing Alexander with polite, flattering deference.

Meanwhile, when Alexander's gaze fell on Eleanor, he subtly frowned. It seemed he had only just realized that Eleanor was Amelia's sister.

At dinner, the long table naturally seated Amelia and Alexander on one side, with Eleanor alone across from them.

Throughout the meal, Eleanor watched Alexander's meticulous attention to Amelia. He served her carefully, peeled shrimp for her, and gently wiped the sauce from the corner of her mouth with a napkin.

Patricia's face lit up. "Amelia, how did you meet Mr. Grant? Tell us all about it."

Amelia's cheeks flushed a soft pink. "It was at a charity gala. I saw a stray cat stuck in a tree and tried to help it. I almost fell, but Alexander caught me, and later, he asked for my contact information."

She looked at Alexander affectionately.

Eleanor couldn't stop herself from snorting. After all, Amelia had hated animals since she was a child. She had even killed Eleanor's cat back then, so there was no way she would have gone out of her way to save one.

Either the story was staged, or she had some hidden, cruel motive.

Eleanor's sharp laughter cut through the silence, drawing everyone's attention.

Amelia's expression shifted slightly, but she smiled softly. "Elean, what about you? Have you had any boyfriends all these years? When are you going to bring one home for us to meet?"

Eleanor curled her lips into a radiant, audacious smile. "Bring one home? That's out of the question."

Amelia frowned. "Why?"

Eleanor's gaze flicked meaningfully toward Alexander before returning to Amelia.

"I have far too many," she said. "I'm not like you, taking a whole three years to bring home just one. I have admirers lined up all the way from Hayes Manor to Parisse, stretching across the globe. There's no way I could bring them all here."

"Eleanor!" Robert's face darkened, and he slammed his hand on the table. Patricia's chest heaved in frustration, too.

Meanwhile, Amelia looked wronged. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she glanced helplessly at Alexander.

Alexander put down his fork, wiped his hands with a napkin, and, under everyone's gaze, gently took hold of Amelia's hand on the table.

"Amelia doesn't need to compete with anyone," he said firmly. "In my heart, no one compares to her. She is the best, and there is no one like her."

The words landed like a verdict, sending Eleanor into a chasm of silent despair.

Tears turned to laughter on Amelia's face. She held his hand tightly, radiating pure joy and triumph.

Eleanor stared at their hands clasped together. Her heart felt shattered, and the pain made it nearly impossible to maintain her arrogant mask.