When Kingston Stone woke up in the hospital, his head was wrapped in heavy bandages, his face a ghostly pale. Yet, as the fever broke, his eyes regained a chilling, razor-sharp clarity.

He looked at Raven Sullivan, who was standing vigil by the bed, and spoke with blunt, cold precision:

"I’m pressing charges."

Raven’s heart sank. She knew Kingston wasn't just venting; he had the power, the connections, and the spite to see it through. Caspian Armstrong held a public-sector role, his career only just taking off. A criminal record—regardless of the outcome—would be enough to drag him into the gutter and destroy his future.

"Kingston," she said, steadying her voice, trying to appeal to logic. "Last night was an accident. You were delirious with fever, you lost control and threw the first punch. Caspian was only acting in self-defense."

"Whether it was an accident or not, and how it’s defined, isn't for you to decide."

Kingston cut her off, his eyes locked onto hers, searching for any tremor of weakness. "I can give him a chance. Or I can… erase him."

The air in the hospital room turned brittle. Raven’s fingertips went numb.

"What do you want to let him go?" she asked, abandoning any hope of negotiation.

Kingston’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, a flicker of dark desire crossing his gaze. He lowered his voice, dropping into a tone of forced sweetness.

"Simple. Come back to The City with me. Don’t worry about your job; I’ll handle everything. I’ll give you a life better than this, one with more luxury and less toil. As long as you come back to me, I’ll let the brat go."

Raven fell silent. Return to The City? To the place dripping with rumors, where every shadow was stained with her past? To the man who had once stripped her life apart until there was nothing left?

Her logic screamed no. But then, the image of Caspian’s young, vibrant face flashed in her mind. He was caught in this crossfire because of her. She couldn’t be the one to break him.

Her lips trembled. She fought the urge to pull away, but in the end, she nodded. "I agree."

Her voice was so faint it sounded like all the life had been drained out of her.

Kingston curled his lip into a smile, a spark of triumph reigniting in his eyes. "There’s a good girl."

He reached out to touch her face, but she instinctively tilted her head, avoiding his hand.

The next day, Raven walked into the office in a daze. She was just about to hand in her resignation when she heard her colleagues whispering about Caspian. Her heart tightened, fearing the fallout between him and Kingston had gone public.

She caught the receptionist as she walked by, whispering, "Caspian… what happened to him?"

The girl looked at her with genuine regret. "Caspian quit! He came in early this morning to finish the paperwork. It was so sudden—the higher-ups were shocked and tried to talk him out of it. He was our golden boy, you know? Talented, good-looking… it’s a real shame."

Quit?

A dull roar filled Raven’s ears as she bolted toward Caspian’s office. The door was wide open, the room inside completely empty. The chair he usually sat in was pushed neatly under the desk, the workspace scrubbed clean.

"Raven," a guy from the neighboring cubicle leaned over and handed her a white envelope. "Caspian asked me to give this to you before he left."

Raven took it, retreated to the corner of an empty hallway, and tore it open. Inside was a letter, the handwriting as clean and upright as the man himself:

*Raven, I’ve resigned. If he wants to press charges, let him. Don't compromise, and don’t look back. Your road lies ahead. Please, keep walking it with courage.*

After Caspian left, Raven’s life fell back into its original orbit. Work, more work, and the silence of her dorm room. Occasionally, she’d see an empty seat in the staff cafeteria, or walk past the camphor trees during a late-night shift, and the image of that young man—with his clear smile and stubborn eyes—would flicker into her thoughts. But she never dug for information, suppressing every urge to reach out.

She had learned that fate was not something to be forced. If they were meant to cross paths again, they would. If not, they would simply walk their separate ways.

Kingston, however, took this as an omen of success. If Raven wasn't ready to return to The City yet, that was fine. Caspian was gone, and Kingston had all the patience and time in the world.

He began traveling between the two cities constantly. Every week, after handling his business in The City, he would show up in S-City like clockwork, repeating the same old tactics of pursuit. Expensive bouquets, carefully curated gifts, "chance encounters" outside her office or dorm.

But this time, whenever Raven faced his persistence, she simply walked past him with a blank expression. If he became too suffocating, she’d offer a single, cold line: "Mr. Stone, please show some self-respect."

Her gaze remained as still as a frozen lake, devoid of the shyness she’d once held for him. Kingston grew increasingly irritable as he hit a wall time and time again.

Then, Raven’s birthday arrived.

Kingston began planning a week in advance. He booked the top-floor revolving restaurant in S-City with a panoramic view of the harbor, had rare flowers flown in, and commissioned a custom piece of high-end jewelry as a gift.

On the day, he waited outside her office early, wearing a perfectly tailored suit and cradling a massive, eye-catching bouquet of red roses. When Raven walked out and saw him, she frowned and turned to leave, but he blocked her path.

"Raven, it’s your birthday. Don't be like this." He softened his voice, thrusting the flowers toward her. "Give me a chance. Just dinner, okay? I promise, just dinner."

Raven was about to refuse when a clear, confident voice cut through the air.

"Happy birthday, Raven."

Caspian stepped out from the corner. He wore a sharp, dark overcoat, his posture upright and imposing. Compared to when he left, he had shed the last traces of boyishness; he looked steadier, sharpened by experience. In his hand, he held a sophisticated arrangement of white tulips and a navy blue velvet gift box.

Kingston’s pupils constricted, a jolt of primal territorial instinct surging through him. Like a lion guarding his pride, he stepped between Raven and Caspian, staring him down. "What are you doing here?"

Caspian ignored him entirely, handing the flowers and the box to Raven, his tone casual. "Heard it was your birthday. A small token."

Thinking of the passionate confession this man had made to Raven that night, jealousy boiled over in Kingston’s chest, shattering his composure. He reached out, trying to swat the flowers from Caspian’s hand. "Get away from her."

Caspian sidestepped him effortlessly. "Mr. Stone, this is a public place. Try to maintain some dignity."

He met Kingston’s eyes, a faint, heavy pressure radiating from him. Kingston, enraged by his calm, gritted his teeth. "Spare me the act. Get lost."

"Instead of wasting time here, Mr. Stone, shouldn't you be more concerned about the state of the Stone Group?" Caspian curled his lip into a smirk. "Being targeted by the Armstrong Group from every angle—that can’t be a pleasant feeling, right?"

Kingston hadn't expected that the Armstrong Group, which had been obstructing his business dealings, was backed by Caspian. He had never once regarded Caspian as a threat, let alone investigated his background. Now, blindsided and cornered, he had already lost the initiative.

Surprised and furious, he tried to project an air of superiority, sneering, "The Armstrongs? Please. What do you think your little foundation can do to shake my family? Sooner or later, I’ll make sure you’re kicked out of The City, maybe even driven out of the entire region."

Caspian didn't flinch. "Anyone can bark, Mr. Stone. Why don’t you see if the Stone Group can even survive until then?"

The air between them crackled with electricity. It was a powder keg, ready to explode.

"That’s enough."

Raven stepped between the two men, her eyes sweeping over them as if they were nothing more than obstructive pieces of furniture. "I’ve already booked my flight. I’m going home to see my grandmother. It’s my birthday, and I want a quiet meal with my family. Neither of you is to follow me."

Kingston and Caspian both opened their mouths to argue, but under her icy glare, the words died in their throats. They watched as she turned and hailed a taxi, leaving them both standing there. They glared at each other for a second before looking away in mutual disgust.

On the way to the airport, Raven rubbed her temples. The thought of seeing her grandmother helped her tense nerves loosen just a fraction. Both her parents had died when she was young; her grandmother was the only family she had left.

Before boarding, she took out her phone and called her grandmother, her voice dropping into a rare, playful tone. "Grandma, I’m getting on the plane! I’ll be there soon. Save me the biggest piece of birthday cake, the one with the most frosting…"

The voice that answered from the other end wasn't her grandmother’s familiar, warm chuckle. It was a deep, cold, masculine growl.

"Listen, Madam. If you want to save your grandmother, come to Blackwater Docks. Come alone. Don't play any tricks. Your grandmother’s life is in your hands now."

Blackwater Docks. Located at the eastern tip of the city, with a labyrinth of waterways and dilapidated piers—a place long synonymous with the city’s grey-market filth.

Raven’s blood ran cold. They hadn't asked for money. They hadn't made a single demand. They only wanted her there.

This wasn't a common kidnapping. This was a vendetta.