The words hung in the air.
Adrian's gaze turned to ice.
Just when Sara thought he might offer a sliver of comfort, he proved once again that hope was a dangerous thing.
"Stop playing the victim." His voice was flat. "Who could possibly bully you?"
He didn't explicitly defend Eva, but he clearly cast Sara as the villain.
The accusation lodged in her chest like a stone. Ice water seemed to pour over her head, extinguishing the last spark of hope.
She couldn't refute it.
She knew exactly what he was alluding to.
Shortly after they married, a model had tried to provoke her. Assuming Sara was just a glorified assistant with no real power in the Harding family, the woman had tried to seduce Adrian at a banquet.
Later, while tidying his suit, Sara found the model's contact info and a room key in his pocket.
She didn't dare confront Adrian. Instead, she quietly investigated the woman. Finding the model was bribing judges in a competition show, Sara leaked the evidence. The model was cut from the program, her career ruined, buried under a mountain of debt for breach of contract.
Sara thought she had been subtle.
But when the news broke, Adrian had looked up from his tablet. "You did it, didn't you?"
Terror had seized her chest.
But he had smiled—gentle, terrifying—and a chill had crawled down her spine. "Are you happy?"
When she couldn't answer, he pulled her onto his lap. It felt less like affection and more like a warning. "Don't do things like this again. If you have a problem, tell me directly. Understand?"
Caught red-handed in her first act of ruthlessness, she had nodded obediently.
He never brought it up again. But the label *vicious* had likely been stamped on her file in his mind.
A white rabbit was cute.
A rabbit that bit was a pest to be guarded against.
Especially one sleeping in his bed.
That night, Adrian didn't touch her.
Whether exhausted from work or simply uninterested, he fell asleep the moment the lights went out. Even when Sara had brought him a bathrobe earlier—stepping into the bathroom while he was damp and exposed—the air remained cold.
No "accidents."
No sparks.
Adrian wasn't a man ruled by lust. He valued quality over frequency. When work consumed him, going weeks without intimacy was common.
Ironclad self-control, both in the boardroom and the bedroom. Toward people he shouldn't love—like Sara—he wouldn't waver. At most, he would pay her off.
It saved time and effort.
But Eva was different. The fact that she dared to provoke Sara meant she knew she had leverage.
Sara was a pragmatist. Illusory love didn't pay the bills; hard currency did.
She immediately began preparing for divorce.
There was no prenup, but the disparity in their status meant she couldn't dream of taking half his assets. The Harding family, obsessed with face and profit, would crush her like an ant if she tried.
Eva had protection.
Sara had nothing.
Even if he offered money, she'd be wary of taking it.
Her only liquid assets were the jewelry, designer bags, and couture in the walk-in closet. Although she had a supplementary credit card, every transaction pinged his phone. She couldn't use it to build an escape fund.
This was why she'd had to borrow money for Simon's care.
Privately, Sara contacted trusted resellers and began liquidating the luxury goods she rarely used. She deposited the cash into an anonymous account in small batches.
Simon's recovery was complicated by heavy scarring; he would need future surgeries. Sara had to plan for their survival.
During those weeks, both she and Adrian were busy.
When Adrian came home, he bypassed the bedroom and went straight to the study. He seemed buried in an endless stream of video conferences and documents.
At first, Sara brought him coffee, trying to play the dutiful wife.
Eventually, she stopped. She would deliver the cup and retreat to her room.
His obsession with work was a coping mechanism. The last time he worked this hard was when he and Eva broke up.
He needed the noise of business to drown out his thoughts.
Sara didn't know what happened between them that night. But it was clear Eva was the only woman with the power to unravel him.
Other people couldn't earn his love.
Even earning his hatred was a luxury.
One afternoon, Sara entered the study with coffee as usual.
He didn't look up.
She turned to leave, her hand on the doorknob, when his voice stopped her.
"Change your clothes. You're coming with me."
