Bradley Harper felt a strange mix of pride—*who else could do this but me?*—and a deep sense of dread—*how is this any different from being exiled to the frontier by a fickle king?*

He sought out Roland Hayes for a bit of professional therapy. Roland, a loyal friend to the end, clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Look, buddy, you’re the tech wizard here. You’re the chosen one. The V-Oasis empire is going to be your playground soon enough."

The blueprint sounded grand enough that Bradley’s gloom shifted into sudden optimism. That night, he pinged Roman Griffin on his phone.

Bradley: Boss, thank you for the trust. I won't let you down!

Roman: Pick your team after the New Year.

Bradley: Understood. Thanks again, boss.

A few minutes later.

Bradley: Can’t thank you enough for the guidance!

Roman set his phone down, just as Violette Ellis began to stifle a series of yawns against her pillow. His gaze softened, and he asked, "Are you that exhausted lately?"

"It’s alright," Violette muttered, her voice thick with sleep. "It’s always like this during the holidays. Even if I’m just on-call, television never stops. We’re short-staffed, but the workload doubles. I’m used to it."

"No plans to return to the front desk?"

"It’s just as busy there, and besides..." She waved a hand dismissively. "I don’t want to."

Roman gave a hum of acknowledgment. After a long silence, he added, with an air of calculated nonchalance, "You know, you don't need to change your career path just because of things that aren't worth the effort."

He thought, perhaps he was emphasizing the "not worth the effort" part a bit too much. He was a businessman to the marrow, incapable of letting a single opportunity to belittle a rival slip by.

Violette didn’t seem to catch the subtext. Her eyelids fluttered shut, then jerked open in a startling, desperate flicker. "Hm? What was that?"

"Nothing," Roman said. He brushed her hair away from her face and leaned in to kiss her trembling lids, which fluttered like the wings of a moth. "Go to sleep."

"Oh... wait, right..."

"What is it?"

He waited, but Violette had already drifted off. When he looked at her again, one side of her face was pressed into the plush pillow, her long lashes casting a deep shadow against her skin. She had been so tired that she hadn't even managed to finish a sentence.

The next day, Roman asked her about it again.

Violette took a long moment to recall. "It was Adelaide. She said she brought me a gift. You know her better than I do—what do you think I should get her in return?"

So that was it.

It really was just that.

Roman couldn't tell if he felt more disappointment or relief. The feeling was like a sponge soaking up water, clogging his veins; as he squeezed it out, it felt momentarily lighter, yet the sensation seeped deeper into his marrow, flooding him like a sudden tide.

"Adelaide loves aromatherapy; she probably brought you some coconut milk soap," Roman reassured her. "Don't overthink it. Just treat it as a small family gesture. You don't have to get her anything back."

Despite Roman's advice, Violette made a trip to the mall anyway. Knowing Adelaide had grown up with every luxury at her fingertips, Violette knew anything she bought would seem like a toy to her. She browsed patiently through the boutiques before settling on a unique, elegant oriental incense set.

After all, no girl could resist such delicate, exquisite little things.

The moment Adelaide landed in Deepwater, she drove straight to the television station. When a colleague told Violette someone was waiting for her downstairs, she had just woken up from a nap, her brain still foggy. Her first instinct was to wonder if it was Blake Pierce.

As she hesitated, her colleague added, "She’s a gorgeous girl, driving a red Ferrari. Looks pretty cool."

Violette’s pulse steadied. "Ah, that's my sister-in-law."

She went down, gift in hand.

"Sister-in-law!" Adelaide waved at her, her eyes scanning Violette from head to toe. "You're working way too hard! Look at those dark circles!"

Ever since moving into Blue Springs Estate, her sleep quality had plummeted. During the holiday break, the rotating shifts had been manageable, but once the post-holiday season began, it felt like she was trapped in a whirlwind. Roman had offered to have a driver pick her up, but she hadn’t been comfortable with it and had refused.

"Then move back," Roman had suggested, his voice low. "It’ll be closer to the station."

But the thought of Blake living in the apartment below made Violette cling to her policy of avoiding unnecessary complications. She shook her head. "Too much of a hassle. Let’s not bother with moving back and forth."

"If you keep going like this—"

"I'm truly fine!" Violette promised.

But those dark circles weren't going anywhere, even though she’d spent extra time patting on concealer this morning. Violette rubbed under her eyes with her knuckles, trying to soothe Adelaide’s concern. "Just a busy few days."

The ceramic incense burner lay quietly in its silk-lined box, and Adelaide was instantly drawn to it. She picked it up, sniffing it with delight. "Hey, this scent is so familiar."

Violette felt the same. When she was shopping, she had sampled dozens, but this was the only one that made her linger—the cooling, soothing notes of cedar mingled with the long-lasting, ethereal scent of geranium.

Adelaide’s nose was sharper. She snapped her fingers. "There’s a hint of birch in the top notes! Why does this smell exactly like my brother?"

Oh? Was that it?

She had picked so many, only to end up with a "look-alike" of her own husband.

Violette pursed her lips. "I just thought it smelled nice."

"Sister-in-law, you should just admit you’re in love with my brother!"

The leap between those two conclusions was enormous. But as Adelaide said it, it somehow didn't feel entirely wrong.

In the brief moment Violette was distracted, Adelaide had already brazenly typed a message to Roman on her phone.

Adelaide: Big Brother, Sister-in-law says she loves you.

By the time Violette caught sight of the text, the header on the chat box had already switched to: *Recipient is typing...*

She felt a sudden wave of embarrassment, but her eyes couldn't look away. She stared fixedly at the screen. What would Roman say? Would he call Adelaide a brat? Or would he lean into the narrative?

She didn't know what kind of long-winded response he was drafting. Before she could find out, the minute passed, the screen locked, and she never saw his reply.

Adelaide had already forgotten about it. She tossed her phone onto the dashboard and went back to admiring the incense burner.

After waiting for several minutes, Adelaide’s phone finally lit up. Violette was bursting with curiosity, but it wouldn't be proper for her to look. She feigned a casual reminder. "Your phone's buzzing."

"It's fine, it's definitely my brother," Adelaide said without looking up. "Should I put this in my walk-in closet? Wait, no—what if my clothes start smelling like 'Cold Pine and Cedar'? If I end up smelling like my brother, that'd be terrifying. No thanks."

"..."

Violette never got to see that reply, leaving her feeling unsettled—like a reader whose favorite series stops updating mid-chapter, or someone who finally gets a bite of a long-awaited ice cream only to have it drop on the pavement, or waking up from a dream about a first love just before holding hands.

It was maddening.

Adelaide handed her a gift bag from the passenger seat. It contained not just soap, but the durian ice cream mochi that Violette loved. The mochi had been bought on the way over, and the dry ice was still hissing in the bag.

Violette considered suggesting they eat it later at her place, but Adelaide insisted: "Sister-in-law, it’s best when it’s fresh."

Violette thought for a second. "I'll take half, and leave the rest for your brother."

"Big Brother?" Adelaide looked at her with wide-eyed terror. "My brother never touches durian!"

Violette froze.

"Not just durian," Adelaide continued. "He won't eat any tropical fruit with a strong scent! When we were kids, we had to hide those fruits from him. Once, he actually threw up just from smelling it. Didn't you know?"

"..."

The person Adelaide was describing felt like a complete stranger. The Roman Griffin that Violette knew was the man who would peel durian for her with his bare hands, saying he’d take the rest to the office to enjoy later. And during New Year's dinner at the Griffin estate, he hadn't said a word about the durian pastries served for dessert...

Violette suddenly went rigid.

Thinking back, Roman had never actually eaten it in front of her. Saying he’d take it to the office might have just been a polite excuse to avoid it. And that night at dinner, he’d only muttered, "Don't eat too much." He hadn't touched the pastry at all.

The pieces of the puzzle began to click into place, one by one.

But... Violette didn't understand. If he hated it, why didn't he just say so?