The rain didn’t stop. And Maximus Anderson didn’t move.

The front door of the Harrison Estate finally creaked open. It was Allan Nichols, the butler. Maximus stared at him, his eyes burning with a desperate, pathetic hope that this time, the news would be different. He watched as the elderly man, clutching a black umbrella, hurried toward him through the downpour. When Allan finally stood before him, Maximus was trembling too violently to speak, his dark eyes brimming with a fragile, shattered expectation.

"Mr. Anderson, please, just go home," the butler said, his voice laced with concern as he shielded himself from the rain. "Miss Harrison has made it clear: she doesn’t want to see you."

He had been watching Maximus for the entire afternoon. The rain was brutal, and the former son-in-law’s persistence was bordering on madness. Even the butler felt a twinge of pity.

"Mr. Nichols, I’m begging you. Let me explain things to Rose. Just let me speak to her, please," Maximus gripped the edge of the butler’s coat, weeping like a broken child.

"Mr. Anderson, leave it be. She really doesn't want to see you. She only said one thing: sign the papers so you can both move on. Please, go back," the butler sighed, his heart heavy with the weight of the tragedy. It was all such a waste. Why was it that people only learned to value what they had once it was already gone? He could only accept the cruelty of fate.

Miles Cook, the assistant standing nearby, tried to pull him away. "Sir, please. Let's go back for now. We can come up with a new plan later, right?"

Maximus looked as if he’d been struck by lightning. He stood frozen in the deluge, staggering back a few steps before his legs finally gave out, forcing him to collapse onto the cold pavement.

In the end, Maximus left. He never got to see Rose.

The rain continued, relentless and uncaring.

High above, Rose Harrison stood by the window, her gaze fixed on the drawn curtains. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed, the bitterness curdling into a sharp, deep ache. She couldn't bring herself to cry; she was terrified that if she started, she’d regret everything.

She lifted a trembling hand, whispering to herself like a mantra: Don’t cry, the enemy is watching. Don’t bow your head, or your crown will fall.

Her vision blurred, and the memories—the moments of joy, the moments of agony—flashed before her eyes, a carousel of ghosts she was desperate to bury.

Maximus had to be hauled away by his assistant. By the time they reached the car, he was already unconscious.

The Anderson Estate was bustling. The household staff had returned, and Delilah Kelly was already there. For the sake of appearances, Delilah had spent the past few weeks playing the role of Mrs. Anderson.

Delilah was ecstatic. With Rose Harrison finally out of the way, she was effectively the mistress of the house. She loved ordering the servants around; it gave her a sense of belonging she had never known.

But Maximus never touched her. He simply kept her confined within the walls of the estate. It didn't matter to her, though—the petty life she’d led before meant nothing compared to the prestige of the Anderson name. She dove into the luxury, eager to savor every drop of this stolen life.

So, when they dragged an unconscious Maximus through the front door, her face went deathly pale. She scrambled to help Miles Cook carry him to the master bedroom, her heart hammering against her ribs. In the chaos, the first thought that flashed through her mind wasn't concern for his life—it was a cold, calculating fear: *If he dies, what happens to the fortune? I’m not legally the wife yet. I have no leverage.*

Miles Cook was a soft-hearted man. He genuinely couldn't understand it—the boss supposedly loved Delilah, so why was he out there begging for Rose’s forgiveness? In Miles's eyes, Rose was the cold-hearted one. Maximus had been out there in the rain for an entire afternoon, and she wouldn't even grant him a single conversation. Delilah, on the other hand, was devoted. How could the boss not see her worth?

Trying to be helpful, Miles nudged Delilah. "Miss Kelly, please, take care of the boss. When he wakes up, try to talk some sense into him. Tell him to stop chasing after Miss Harrison."

Delilah’s eyes lit up. *Exactly.* She was the one meant for Maximus, not that spoiled brat, Rose Harrison. How dare she try to steal her man? She’d finally made the right move.

"Of course," Delilah chirped, forcing a look of concern. "Don’t worry, Miles. I’ll make sure he listens."

Miles smiled, turning to leave while muttering to himself, "The boss is just a glutton for punishment. He should have just signed those divorce papers the moment they arrived. If there’s no love left, better to just cut the cord and be done with it."