It was nine o’clock at night. Evangeline Montgomery was tucked into bed with her little treasure, reading a bedtime story.

"...The rabbit, in its panic, lost its footing in the tree. It tumbled down, knocking out the three hunting dogs that were looking up, and managed to make a clean escape..."

Jemma Riley’s eyelids fluttered shut, lulled by her mother’s soft, gentle voice. Seeing her daughter so peaceful, Evangeline couldn't resist pressing a lingering kiss to her velvety-soft cheek.

She carefully eased her arm out from under the covers, but before she could even stand up, her phone buzzed with an incoming call. She hastily declined it, silenced the device, and crept out of the room only after confirming her daughter remained sound asleep.

Back in the primary suite, she returned the video call.

On the other end, Remi Crawford raised an eyebrow with a playful smirk. "Evangeline, what were you up to just now? Was it..."

"You little pervert, what’s running through your mind all day? I was just putting Jemma to sleep."

Remi flipped her camera around to show her surroundings. "Guess where I am?"

The venue on the screen was a kaleidoscope of flashing neon lights and chaotic energy. On stage, "beauties" in extravagant gowns and elaborate feathered headdresses were strutting, showing off their curves.

"Are you at a cabaret show in Thailand?"

"Yeah, they’re stunning! It’s making me so restless," Remi grumbled, her face scrunching up as she bounced on her heels.

"Restless?"

"It’s like being a eunuch in a brothel—I’ve got the energy, but nowhere to put it!"

"Pfft, ha-ha..."

Evangeline had thought the background noise was just the crowd. She should have known; Remi’s brain was always on a different wavelength.

"Hey, look at Damian."

The camera panned over. Damian Spencer was trapped in the middle of a group of sultry performers. He stood with his hands behind his back, his expression as stoic and determined as a saint facing temptation.

"Ha! I never thought I’d see a six-foot-one hunk look so small and helpless."

Remi sounded genuinely annoyed. "He’s a massive hit. He’s surrounded by three layers of them, and I can’t even squeeze in."

Evangeline lowered her voice, teasing her friend. "You’d better keep a close eye on him. If he gets whisked away for the night, he might not be left with a single bone in his body."

"Oh? Right, gotta go—gotta save my man!"

The video call cut out instantly. Evangeline burst into laughter.

Marcellus Alexander walked in from the bathroom, rubbing his hair with a towel. "Who’s got you laughing like that?"

"Remi. Sharing some fun gossip."

"Those two and their 'honeymoon' tour—it’s been going on forever."

Evangeline chuckled, prodding his abs with the tip of her toe. "Marcellus, why so sour?"

"Seeing him act all smug is grating."

"Jealous?"

Marcellus shook his head, a hint of melancholy in his eyes. "A world tour was your dream, too. It’s my fault for upending your plans."

"Everything has its time. A vacation can happen twenty years from now."

"Evangeline."

"Oh, stop being so mushy. I told you, it’s fine."

Marcellus chuckled, pulling her hand away from his lips. "Is that disdain I hear?"

"Yeah. You used to have such personality—the 'forced, domineering love' act. It had me completely bewitched..."

Evangeline kept babbling, completely unaware of the dangerous glint darkening her husband’s eyes.

"Oh? So that’s what you like? Well, then, your husband will just have to put in some extra effort tonight."

Sensing the shift in his tone, Evangeline tried to bolt, but Marcellus’s large hands clamped around her ankles. The veins on his forehead throbbed with suppressed intensity.

Evangeline went soft, slowly inching backward. "I was just joking! Who doesn't like a gentle, sophisticated gentleman? Right?"

Marcellus flashed a wicked grin. "Wrong. I think the adoration in your eyes is so much more intense when you talk about my 'domineering' side."

"Wait! Wait!"

Evangeline pressed her hands against his encroaching face. During the standoff, she felt a wet, ticklish sensation on her palm. A jolt of electricity surged through her, leaving her limbs weak. She jerked her hand back, giving him the perfect opening.

"Evangeline, the more you push back, the more excited I get. What are we going to do about that?"

"..."

"Just kill me now." She held her head high, feigning a posture of unyielding defiance.

A low, resonant laugh spilled from the man’s throat. He used one hand to grasp her delicate, swan-like neck.

"In that case, I won't hold back."

Like a predator hunting, he delighted in teasing his prey before the final descent, purely to savor the erosion of her composure.

The next morning, Jemma Riley trotted over in her bare feet, drumming on the master bedroom door. "Mommy! Open up!"

Marcellus opened the door and scooped the little one up. "Hey, treasure. You’re up early."

Jemma put her hands on her hips, her face twisted into a fierce pout. "Daddy, you’re hogging Mommy again!"

"Haha, well, Daddy wants bedtime stories too. Can’t you share a little?"

"Hmph!" Jemma turned away in a huff. "You’re shameless, Daddy. You’re a grown man and you still need Mommy to cuddle you to sleep."

Well. The kid was growing up; she wasn't so easy to fool anymore.

Evangeline pulled her daughter into the bed, her eyes still closed. "Good girl, come nap with Mommy a bit longer."

"But... won't I be late for school?"

Evangeline groaned, shifting under the covers. "So sleepy..."

Marcellus smiled, stroking Jemma’s cheek. "Sweetheart, I’ll take you to school. Mommy’s tired."

"Okay~"

"No, I’ll do it. I promised her, and I can't break a promise."

She forced herself up, fighting the lingering exhaustion. She wasn't entirely sure how she managed to get ready, but she successfully dropped Jemma off at school. As she turned to get back into her car, a female voice stopped her.

"Evangeline? Is Jemma going to school here, too?"

"Mrs. Harrison?"

Seeing Evangeline’s dazed, unfocused gaze, Angela Harrison feigned annoyance. "It’s been a while, but have you forgotten me already?"

Evangeline looped her arm through Angela’s and pouted playfully. "How could I? I was just a bit dizzy and didn't see clearly."

Seeing her tired face, Angela patted her hand with genuine concern. "Is caring for the child tiring? You should let the help take over more; don't wear yourself out."

*Well... a beautiful misunderstanding,* Evangeline thought. She gave an awkward laugh. "Hehe... I’ll keep that in mind."

"Go home and get some sleep. Your eyes look like they’re struggling to stay open."

"I will. See you later, Mrs. Harrison."

Angela watched her walk away, lost in thought for a long time. Why did everything and everyone else change, while her own son remained anchored in the past, unable to let go? Everyone praised him as a gentleman of unparalleled character, but as a mother, she only ever wanted him to be happy.

"Ma'am, shall we head home?"

"To the office."

"Yes."

Outside the window, traffic flowed like water—like the passage of time. Everyone had their own destination in life. But if you’ve taken a wrong turn, how do you find your way back to the right path?

In the president’s office at Harrison Enterprises, Jonah Harrison was hunched over his work. He looked thin, his expression one of total detachment. Even though he sat perfectly still, it felt as if he could vanish into thin air at any moment.

"Jonah."

He looked up, his cold, isolated eyes devoid of life. "Mom, why are you here?"

"I saw Evangeline at the kindergarten just now. She was dropping off Jemma."

"Mm."

His gaze didn't waver, his tone didn't change. That detached expression really made it seem like he had finally let go. But how could a mother not understand her own son? That once-sunny, gentle boy was now like an iceberg—remote and untouchable.

Angela’s throat tightened. "It’s been five years, Jonah. How much longer are you going to torture yourself?"

"Has it been five years?" Jonah stared blankly into the distance.

"Evangeline is happy. No one cares that you're like this—it only hurts me! Jonah!"

"You should go."

Jonah returned to his files. He was genuinely trying to be a capable heir. He had tried his best to make sure his choices didn't seem so ridiculous.

He was as immovable as ever. Angela was used to it; she turned away and squeezed her eyes shut to steady her emotions.

"Mom. Keep an eye on Owen Harrison."

"What?"

Angela didn't understand this sudden, nonsensical instruction and looked at him in confusion.

"That woman is coming out soon."

Right. Five years. That woman was due to be released from prison.

Angela’s voice turned firm. "Don't worry. I will."

After his mother left, Jonah leaned back in his chair, gripping his pen so hard his knuckles turned white.

An assistant knocked and entered. "Sir, you called for me?"

"Assign someone to protect Owen Harrison around the clock. Report anything suspicious immediately."

"Yes."

"Wait."

Jonah stopped the assistant who was turning to leave, then added, "And have someone follow Miss Montgomery, too. Do it discreetly."

"Understood."