Ethan Cooper was the FBI's youngest director in Fernwick. Cold in demeanor and ruthless in execution, he was widely known for his absolute impartiality and his deep hatred of crime.

To stay by his side, Iris Whitman had torn up her acceptance letter from Vantrel University in her final year of high school and instead enrolled in the law school he attended.

After graduation, she used her connections to join the FBI field office where he worked and became a federal agent under his command.

In her first year, the field office assigned high-risk missions by drawing lots for the first time.

There were only two sticks, one long and one short. The short one meant a death assignment. Iris drew the short stick, and Ethan sent her undercover into a cross-border human-trafficking ring.

In her fourth year, the draw occurred again. Her fingers trembled as she reached in, and she drew the short stick once again. This time, it was an overseas drug operation.

In the sixth year, the draw returned like a curse. Iris stared at the familiar short stick in her hand and suddenly burst into laughter. This time, he sent her to Averlain to investigate a major corruption case.

In six years, three short sticks had left her with scars that would never fade and a catastrophe that tore her family apart. During her last mission, her mother, Helen Reed, and her five-year-old brother, Caelum Whitman, were killed in an explosion set off by the kidnappers right before her eyes.

The only thing that kept her crawling back from pools of blood, time and time again, was the promise Ethan made her before every mission. His voice was gentle yet cutting like a blade. "Iris, once we wipe out this batch of criminals, we'll get married."

Iris believed him. She believed him with her blood, with the lives of her loved ones, and with a body riddled with injuries. This time, the mission that nearly killed her finally ended.

Iris dragged her battered body back to the FBI field office to report in, clutching a freshly issued medical report. The report stated that she had sustained serious cardiac damage, and the doctor's red-ink warning made it clear that without proper recovery, she might have less than three years to live.

Iris lowered her head and traced that cold verdict. Yet, a small, fragile hope quietly bloomed in her heart.

This was fine. Three years was enough time to heal, put on a white wedding gown, walk up to Ethan, and become his most beautiful bride.

As soon as she reached the door of the FBI director's office, before her fingers touched the doorknob, a low, restrained voice inside cut through the air like ice. "What? Are you out of your mind? You're seriously planning to let Iris draw the death lot again?"

Iris' hand froze in midair. That voice belonged to the Deputy Director, Leo Maxwell.

"The first three draws were rigged. You deliberately made the sticks the same length, and it has already cost her her family!"

Each word struck like a heated nail, driving straight into her ears.

"Mr. Cooper, she's your beloved fiancée. Do you really have the heart to do this to her?"

Iris' mind went blank. It felt as if her blood was rushing backward, freezing her limbs.

Then, she heard Ethan's calm, aloof voice—the very voice she had listened to for over two decades, the same voice she had clung to as salvation on countless desperate nights. "Watch your tongue, Leo. The draw is a fair procedure. The outcome is a matter of probability."

Ethan paused before continuing, "Besides, I love Iris. She's my fiancée. No one feels more for her than I do."

Probability? No one felt more for her than he did? Iris' body began to tremble uncontrollably. The gunshot wound in her chest, which hadn't yet healed, flared up with intense pain.

Through the crack of the door, the sharp outline of his profile overlapped with the handsome boy in the white shirt from her memories. When they were children, he had risked his life climbing a tree to retrieve her kite.

In middle school, he had confronted her stepfather, who had tried to force himself on her, with a knife. In university, when she was cornered by thugs, he had still put himself between her and them even after being stabbed in the waist.

The man she had always dreamed of marrying had pushed her into the abyss with his own hands.

Leo sighed. "It's been six years, Mr. Cooper. I'm sure you know better than anyone how she's lived these six years.

"During her first mission, she was tortured with electric shocks and waterboarding for three days and nights. All ten of her fingernails were ripped out. When she came back, she ran a high fever and was unconscious for a week. And what did you give her? A Medal of Valor citation.

"During her second mission, she was forcibly injected with drugs. To prevent herself from leaking intelligence while hallucinating, she locked herself in solitary confinement and smashed her head against the wall. The metal door was covered in bloody marks from her nails.

"When we broke in, she was delirious, her mouth full of blood, and calling out your name. Yet, you were celebrating Violet's birthday, so your phone was off! During her third mission…"

Leo's voice was choked full of emotion. "Her whole family was kidnapped. Her mother and her five-year-old brother… were blown apart right before her eyes! Iris took a bullet to the chest and collapsed in the ruins, clutching her brother's toy car.

"The doctors issued three critical condition notices. Yet, you only stood outside the operating room for half an hour, because Violet called and said she was afraid to be on her own. You left without a second thought!"

As those heartbreaking memories resurfaced, Iris felt as though an invisible hand had clamped around her heart, squeezing it until it shattered.

Caelum's last hoarse cry of her name still echoed in her ears. The flames, the heat, the flesh and blood splattering across her face… and the small body in her arms that could never be pieced together again.

It hit her then that Ethan hadn't been absent that day because of urgent work. He had chosen to leave because of Violet Caldwell, who was afraid to be alone.

Then, a long, suffocating silence stretched on inside the office.

Iris leaned against the cold wall to keep herself from collapsing. She parted her lips, but nothing came out. Only hot tears spilled from her eyes, burning her cheeks.

Ethan spoke again. His voice was still calm, rational, and cruel. "I know all of that, Leo."

He knew. Those two words cut her apart like the sharpest blade.

"But Violet's different—she's my mentor's daughter," he continued matter-of-factly. "I promised my mentor I'd take good care of her. Besides, she just joined the FBI field office, and she lacks experience and mental resilience. Those cross-border pursuits are too dangerous for her.

"Iris, on the other hand…"

He paused, as if searching for a more appropriate word. "She's a veteran federal agent. She's skilled and strong-willed. Even if she runs into danger, she knows how to get herself out. Besides…"

There was a faint, sickening note of relief in his voice. "Didn't she make it back alive the first three times?"

A tear dropped onto the back of Iris' hand, splashing against the critical condition notice she was clutching. A small patch of the paper darkened as it was soaked.

Iris lowered her head and focused on the spreading stain. Then, she looked at the loose platinum ring on her ring finger, the one Ethan had given her three years ago. He had told her it was their engagement ring, and he would replace it with a wedding band once her mission was over.

So, that was it. In his eyes, all her resilience, all her struggles, and all the times she clawed her way back from hell were not wounds that needed to be cared for but expendable assets. Because she could take it, she deserved to be pushed into the abyss, time after time.

Violet, on the other hand, was "different". She was fragile.

So, Iris' parents had died for this. Her five-year-old brother deserved to be blown apart, and her scarred body and her remaining three years of life were all acceptable losses in Ethan's eyes.

A faint, almost inaudible chuckle was forced out from deep in her throat. Iris held herself together, and she didn't barge in to confront him. A bone-deep cold rose from her feet to her head, freezing the last bit of warmth inside her.

Slowly, she straightened up, raised her hand, and roughly wiped her tears away with the sleeve of her uniform. Her movements were harsh, as if she were attempting to wipe away not the tears but the blind devotion and trust she had carried for more than 20 years.

Then, she spun on her heel. With her back to the tightly closed door that represented power and betrayal, she walked down the empty corridor, one step at a time.

Chapter 2

Iris wandered the streets in a daze, her vision blurry, until a deafening gunshot rang out. At that moment, she was standing outside a bank, and a masked robber dragged her violently into a group of hostages.

While the robbers were distracted, she eased her right hand into her pocket and pressed the side of her modified phone three times. It was the emergency program Ethan had personally designed.

Six years ago, under the night sky on a rooftop, he had placed the phone in her hand and promised, "Iris, wherever you are, press it if you're in danger, and I'll come to your rescue."

Even though she had been battered and bruised throughout these six years, she'd never used it. This was the first time—and the last.

Every second of waiting flayed her alive. Iris forced herself to stay calm and assess the situation. Then, she locked eyes with a foreign man who began communicating with her in Morse code.

She hastily responded, yet her heart grew colder by the second. Time dragged on until the shrill siren of the tactical team cut through the air.

Her phone, however, remained dark and silent. Ethan never came. The lifeline he had sworn he would carry even in death failed her, as did his empty promise.

Iris' will to survive tangled with grief and rage. The moment the robbers let their guard down, she struck—she seized a gun, chambered it, and fired. Five shots rang out, and five robbers fell. The foreign man subdued the last one in no time.

When the situation was brought under control, she staggered toward the tactical team, her voice shaking. "Did Mr. Cooper send you?"

The officer shook his head. "We received a call from a civilian."

Her nails dug into her palms as she lowered her head and stared at her spotless phone screen. There were no missed calls or messages.

It dawned on her that the lifeline she had treasured had long been discarded by him, the same way he had discarded her. The old wound in her chest flared up again. Iris doubled over and burst into laughter. As she laughed, hot tears fell onto the cold screen.

"Ms. Whitman?"

The foreign man walked up to her with unmistakable admiration in his eyes. "I'm Robert Brown, ICTF's regional representative. I saw you years ago at an international shooting competition. 300 yards with extreme wind conditions, yet you hit the target with your first shot. You're a born sniper."

He changed the subject as soon as he noticed her pallid complexion. "You don't look too good. If I remember correctly, according to the records, your fiancé is Mr. Cooper. He—"

"He's not my fiancé." Iris cut him off sharply.

Her voice was hoarse but crystal clear. "He's nobody to me."

Robert fell silent for a moment before handing her a business card. "The ICTF International Prosecutorial Fellowship. Two years at Euravia headquarters. Your record and what you demonstrated earlier put you well above the bar for a special recommendation."

His tone was solemn. "There's a 30-day background check. Once approved, you'll leave for Euravia."

Euravia. Far away from here. Far away from him.

Iris tightened her grip on the business card until her fingers turned white. Then, she raised her hand and wiped the remaining tears away from her face.

When she looked up again, the pain in her eyes had been replaced by icy resolve. "I'm willing to take part in the program."

Just then, harsh brakes screeched. Ethan jumped out of the car and rushed toward her. Gripping her arms, he checked her over frantically. "Iris, are you okay? I'm sorry I'm late! Something urgent came up."

Iris tore her arms from his grasp, the cold of it sinking into her skin. "Spare me your concern, Mr. Cooper."

All of the questions she wanted to ask died in her throat when her eyes landed on the bright rose-pink lipstick stain on the collar of his white shirt. That was Violet's favorite color.

When her life had been on the line, he had been losing himself in another woman's lips. An invisible hand closed around her heart, squeezing it until the pain stole her breath.

"Ethy!" Right then, a sweet, coquettish voice rang out.

Violet hopped out of the passenger seat, focusing on a game on her phone and smiling without a care in the world. All of a sudden, she tugged at Ethan's sleeve and grumbled, "This stupid program keeps popping up location alerts. It made me lose my game, so I deleted it for you!"

Chapter 3

Iris felt her blood run cold. Slowly, she turned her head to look at Ethan, whose expression changed in an instant.

He hastily snatched his phone back, stepped in front of Violet, and explained, "Vee didn't do it on purpose, Iris. She doesn't know any better. Please don't hold it against her…"

Violet, however, tightened her grip around his arm and raised her innocent yet defiant face. "Ethy, the foie gras at that Isaline restaurant earlier was amazing. Let's go again next time, okay?"

Her gaze deliberately swept over Iris before she said sweetly, "But next time… you have to feed me using this."

Right after saying that, she tapped her lips with her finger.

Iris remembered that Isaline restaurant all too well. It was where he had taken her after receiving his very first paycheck.

The lights had been soft and hazy. He had clumsily fed her dessert, his eyes bright as stars. "This will be a memory that belongs only to us, Iris. From now on, I'll celebrate every anniversary here with you."

It hit her then that promises that were meant to be exclusive could be shared so easily. Memories she once believed were sacred could be handed to someone else without a second thought. Iris loosened her grip and felt the last ripple of emotion inside her settle into numb stillness.

Noticing how eerily quiet she was, Ethan felt an inexplicable unease. He stepped forward again and took her hand. His tone carried a desperation he wasn't even aware of as he consoled, "It's okay. It's all in the past. Get some rest tonight.

"Your commendation ceremony is tomorrow. You need to be at your best to accept the honor that belongs to you."

His touch made her fingers tremble for a moment before the numbness sank even deeper.

…

The following day, Iris carefully straightened her uniform, leaving the scars that time could never erase faintly visible at her collar and cuffs. These medals had been earned with her life.

Ethan was already on stage, trophy in hand. When he looked at her, there was unmistakable happiness in his eyes and something she had once mistaken for pride.

The illusion was shattered the moment she caught the glance he cast toward the backstage. The tenderness that appeared in his eyes in that split second was something she had never experienced. Violet smiled sweetly as she stood in that corner.

Iris felt as if an ice spike had been driven straight through her heart, a dull pain spreading through her chest. Swallowing her bitterness, she straightened her back and walked toward him step by step.

The massive screen began playing a video of her past achievements. Triumphant music filled the hall, but the image abruptly changed, and a shrill scream echoed through the venue.

18-year-old Iris was on the screen, her clothes in disarray, pinned beneath a shirtless, obese man whose face was twisted into a sickening grin.

That man was her stepfather, Eric Grant. The man who had tried to force himself on her. The monster her mother had fought desperately to stop.

It was her darkest, filthiest nightmare, a past she had spent her entire life attempting to bury. Even now, she still jolted awake in the middle of the night, drenched in cold sweat.

The audience erupted.

"Oh my god… is that Iris?"

"She was assaulted when she was young?"

"I can't believe it. She always seems so fearless…"

The whispers slithered into her ears like venomous snakes. Iris went stiff in her seat, her blood rushing backward through her body.

All of a sudden, she snapped her head toward the backstage area. Violet stood at the multimedia console, looking "panicky".

"I'm so sorry! I pressed the wrong button. I had no idea there was something like this in that folder…"

The wrong button? That folder was in the encrypted partition of Ethan's computer.

Iris and Ethan were the only ones who knew the password. Unless…

The thought of that possibility made Iris feel as if her heart had been stabbed straight through, cold air rushing into her chest. She rose from her seat and walked up to Violet, one step at a time.

"Iris, I seriously didn't do it on purpose…" Violet shrank back, tears streaming down her cheeks in a heartbeat.

Iris raised her hand.

Ethan rushed over and caught her wrist. "Iris Whitman! What do you think you're doing?"

"She's trying to destroy me. She knows exactly what photo is!" Iris' voice was shaking.

"She already told you it was an accident."

He lowered his voice. "Everyone's watching. Do you really want to make a scene here?"

Iris laughed so hard that her tears almost spilled from her eyes. "I'm sure you know what that photo means to me, Ethan. You know how many years it took before I could sleep at night with the lights off, and you know why I fought so hard to become a federal agent—"

It was because that helpless little girl had sworn to become so strong that no one could ever hurt her again. In reality, she had done it. Yet, he had ripped her scars open and put them on display for everyone to see.

"It's just an old photo. You're overreacting." His brows knitted together.

He continued, "Vee has already apologized. What more do you want? Why are you picking on someone younger than you? Does that make you feel good?"

Chapter 4

So, in Ethan's eyes, Iris was picking on someone younger than her, even though she was the victim.

Iris stared at the hand gripping her wrist. That hand had patted her back when she jolted awake from nightmares. It had held hers tightly when she was on the operating table after being shot and rested on her shoulder at the funerals of her mother and brother while he said, "You still have me, Iris."

Now, that same hand was clamping down on her wrist, holding her in place to protect another woman.

Iris slowly pulled her hand free and shoved him away.

"You're right, Mr. Cooper," she said calmly. Frighteningly so. "I overreacted."

Then, she spun on her heel and walked out of the hall under countless complicated stares.

…

In the days that followed, Iris became the talk of the FBI field office.

"I heard she was assaulted by her stepfather when she was young…"

"No wonder she's so cold. She's got issues."

"Mr. Cooper seems pretty disappointed in her. Lately, he's been showing up at events with Violet instead."

Rumors spread like wildfire, yet Ethan never once spoke up for her. Instead, he was busy comforting a "shaken" Violet, taking her out to meals, shopping with her, and personally tutoring her for her promotion exam.

Iris didn't see him until she took three days off and prepared to attend another commendation ceremony in Harrington.

Ethan waited for her downstairs early in the morning. When he spotted her, he pulled out a velvet box and opened it in front of her. A faint smile crept onto his face as he asked, "Are you still mad at me? I know you've always liked this necklace, so I bought it for you."

Before she could refuse, he fastened it around her neck. His gaze was so tender, as if he were admiring a flawless work of art.

After a long while, he tore his gaze away. His tone was warm yet faintly admonishing as he said, "Drive safely… and stop targeting Violet."

Iris merely raised the corner of her lips. After he left, she took off the necklace and threw it straight into the dirty roadside ditch before driving toward Harrington.

…

By the time she returned to Fernwick, it was late at night. Iris dragged her suitcase back to her apartment. It was the place her mother had bought for her, and it was filled with memories of happier times with her family.

Iris slipped the key into the lock and turned it. The door opened, but she froze in place, as there was a pair of pink fuzzy slippers at the entryway. Those weren't hers.

The air was heavy with a sweet, cloying perfume. It wasn't the woody scent she used.

"Oh, Iris, you're back." Violet emerged from the living room in a silk robe, and she didn't seem surprised. Her expression was filled with just the right amount of surprise and a practiced smile.

Iris stared at her. "What are you doing in my house?"

Violet twisted her fingers and glanced innocently toward the kitchen. "Ethy said I could stay here. He—"

"I told her to move in." Ethan's voice came from the kitchen. He walked out with a brand-new plaid apron tied around his waist and a long-handled ladle in his hand.

Under the warm yellow lights, the homey scene felt strangely unfamiliar to Iris. Ethan Cooper, a man who had never set foot in the kitchen, was now cooking for another woman. It was a privilege she had never once been given.

His tone was calm, as if he were talking about the weather. "Vee's place is too far from the office and pretty unsafe. You live alone in such a big house, and you're hardly home, so the rooms are just sitting empty."

Iris' head started to buzz. She dropped her suitcase and rushed into the master bedroom.

Her wardrobe had been opened. Her clothes were stuffed into woven bags and dumped in the corner. The skincare products on her vanity were gone, replaced by Violet's bottles and jars.

Most importantly, the redwood box on her nightstand was missing. That box held her mother and brother's keepsakes. Inside were her mother's emerald bracelet, the little star her brother earned in kindergarten, and the last family photo of the four of them.

"Where's my box?" Iris asked hoarsely as she turned around.

"Oh, are you talking about that old thing?" Violet leaned against the doorframe.

"It was full of junk. I thought it was bad luck, so I told the cleaner to throw it away."

The box was thrown away.

Darkness closed in on Iris' vision.

"Where did you throw it?" she demanded, clutching Violet's shoulders.

"That hurts… You're hurting me, Iris…" Violet struggled.

"It was thrown in the trash station downstairs. The collection truck already came this morning."

Iris shoved her away and ran downstairs like she'd lost her mind. The trash station reeked of rot. Several large, empty green dumpsters stood there.

The garbage truck came every day at 6:00 am. She had been gone for three days. Those keepsakes had already been crushed, compacted, and hauled off to some landfill she would never find.

Iris collapsed to her knees and dug through the filth with her bare hands. Rotting waste filled her fingernails, but she found nothing.

No fragments of the emerald bracelet. No faded little star. No family photo. Nothing.

"Mom… Cal…" she murmured, her tears falling onto the filthy ground.

Chapter 5

After what felt like an eternity, a pair of leather shoes stopped in front of her. Iris looked up.

Ethan stood before her, frowning at her. "Why are you digging through trash in the middle of the night instead of sleeping?"

"Violet threw away my mom and Cal's keepsakes."

Iris stood up, shaking all over. "Why did you let her move into my place, Ethan? Why did you let her touch my belongings?"

Ethan froze for a second before drawing his brows together. "They're dead. Those things would only hold you down. Honestly, good riddance."

Good riddance? Looking at him, Iris suddenly felt as if she no longer recognized the man in front of her.

"Those were the last things my family left me in this world, Ethan," she reiterated.

Violet came downstairs as well, hiding behind Ethan timidly. "Iris seems really upset, Ethy… I didn't do it on purpose. I just thought those things felt gloomy…"

"It's fine." Ethan patted her hand before returning his attention to Iris.

"That's enough. Vee is your junior. Why can't she stay over at your place for a few days? Can't you be a little more generous?"

Iris had been generous for six years. She was so generous that she almost lost her life. She was so generous that she lost her loved ones and couldn't even protect her family's keepsakes.

As soon as his words fell, a hard slap landed on Ethan's face, leaving him frozen in place.

"Ethan Cooper!" Iris shouted hoarsely. "This is my house! Yet, you let another woman move in and throw away my belongings, and now you're asking me to be generous?"

With that, she laughed until tears cascaded down her cheeks.

Violet wept. "This is all my fault… Iris, don't blame Ethy. This is on me…"

Then, she crouched down to rummage through the trash. However, she was cut by a shard of glass, and her sobs grew louder.

"Vee!" Ethan immediately panicked. Ignoring the pain on his cheek, he hurriedly wiped her blood away with his expensive clothes.

Multiple emotions swirled through his eyes when he looked at Iris again. "Look at what you've become, Iris. I can't believe you're causing a scene in the middle of the night over some junk. Vee meant well. She just wanted to help you tidy up your place, and now she's hurt because of you!"

Ethan helped Violet up, his tone softening. "Come on, let's get you to a hospital to get your wound treated. This place is filthy. What if it gets infected?"

He failed to notice that Iris' hands were also scraped and bloody.

The keepsakes were never recovered. Violet's move was a done deal.

Iris didn't argue with them anymore. She hastily contacted a realtor and put the apartment her mother had left her up for sale.

Because the things that held her memories were no longer there, it would only hurt more to stay in that house. More importantly, she was leaving—she was leaving this place for good and leaving Ethan behind.

After leaving the real estate agency, her phone vibrated. Iris had received an email from Robert.

The background check was progressing smoothly. Everything was clear. Iris had ten days left.

After returning to the FBI field office, she started preparing her resignation. It required her direct supervisor's signature—Ethan's. While she was wondering how to bypass him, Violet sought her out.

"Can I have a word with you?" Violet stopped her at the end of the hallway.

The wind was strong on the rooftop.

Violet dropped all pretenses and cut to the chase. She asked arrogantly, "What will it take for you to disappear for good, Iris? Open your eyes. Ethy never cared about you. If he did, he wouldn't keep sending you into deadly situations."

Iris wore a poker face as she calmly pulled out the resignation letter she had prepared a while ago and handed it to her. "I'll leave. I only have one condition. Have him sign this."

Violet accepted it warily. Realizing it was a resignation letter, she raised her brows and couldn't hide the smile curling at her lips.

"Deal," she said before tucking the document away.

Ten minutes later, she showed up at Iris' office again. Violet sauntered in and casually dropped the resignation letter onto Iris' desk.

"I told him I wanted a place of my own, and he agreed to buy me a house without a second thought. Your resignation letter was clipped right on top of my purchase contract, and he signed it without looking at what was underneath."

Iris felt as if an invisible hand had gripped her heart, and a sharp pain immediately spread through her chest. Even though her heart was already numb, hearing how easily he signed away her career as an attachment to Violet's house purchase still sent a chill down her spine.

Ethan trusted Violet unconditionally and indulged her without question. Iris lowered her gaze, hiding the last trace of emotion in her eyes. Then, she quietly put away the resignation letter with his signature on it.

In the days that followed, she made herself invisible. Violet, on the other hand, seemed busy with something and was unusually quiet.

…

After finalizing the sale paperwork at the agency, Iris returned to her apartment. As soon as she opened the door, a strange odor hit her.

Violet was sitting on the rug with a pile of clay tools spread out in front of her in the living room. Humming, she shaped a dog tag.

Iris walked past her and was about to enter her bedroom when Violet called out, "Oh, Iris, you're back! I'm making an ID tag for my dog. A fortune teller told me that if you mix a child's ashes into the clay, it can keep my dog safe."

A child's ashes. Iris' blood ran cold in a heartbeat. She bolted into the study, where she had kept Helen's memorial tablet and Caelum's urn. The tablet was gone, and so was the urn.

"Did you touch my belongings in my study?" Iris demanded hoarsely as she spun on her heel.

"Oh, are you talking about that wooden tablet?" Violet batted her lashes.

"I put it in my dog's bed. My dog is teething and likes to chew on things. As for that little box…"