Ethan Sullivan was in a meeting when the call came.

The name "Victor Sullivan" flashed on his phone screen.

Frowning, he answered. His assistant's panicked voice came through. "Mr. Sullivan, Chairman Sullivan has been stabbed at the hotel!"

Sophia Laurent was working in the restoration studio.

She set down her brush, noticing Ethan's sudden pallor.

"Go." That was all he said.

When they arrived at the hotel, a crowd had gathered in the hallway.

Victor leaned against the wall outside the restroom.

His charcoal-gray suit was soaked with blood. Crimson dripped steadily between his fingers.

Dark red droplets scattered across the floor.

A gold hairpin lay nearby.

Its sharp tip glinted coldly, stained with vivid scarlet.

"What happened?" Ethan's voice was glacial.

A bodyguard lowered his head. "The Chairman asked us to leave..."

Ethan sneered. "An old flame came calling?"

Victor was in too much pain to speak.

Sophia had already fetched towels.

As she handed them to him, she caught a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

"Apply pressure," she said tersely.

Ethan scoffed. "Now you see her worth?"

Victor closed his eyes without responding.

Sophia collected the hairpin in an evidence bag.

Her fingers trembled slightly.

She recognized this pin—it belonged to Willow Grant.

"To the hospital." Ethan hauled Victor upright.

Victor grunted in pain.

Without hesitation, Ethan swept him up in a bridal carry.

"Debts from your youth finally coming due?"

The ambulance took too long.

Ethan drove them himself.

In the rearview mirror, Victor's face was ghostly pale.

"Who is A-Yao?" Victor suddenly asked.

Ethan's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "Kyle Grant."

The hospital reeked of antiseptic.

The operating lights stayed on for three hours.

"Three wounds, 4-5 centimeters deep." The surgeon removed his mask. "Fortunately, no organ damage."

When the anesthesia wore off, Victor was drenched in sweat.

"Should we call the police?" Ethan asked.

Victor shook his head.

"How unusual." Ethan arched a brow. "Has Chairman Sullivan grown a conscience?"

"Stock prices..." Victor whispered weakly.

Ethan smirked. "I've already handled the surveillance footage."

"Why did you meet?"

Victor shut his eyes. "Project inspection..."

Ethan stood. "I'll get your assistant."

He couldn't stay any longer.

The urge to lash out was becoming unbearable.

Back at the hotel, Sophia had just finished showering.

Water droplets trailed down her hair.

Her robe parted to reveal slender ankles.

Ethan's Adam's apple bobbed.

He took a quick cold shower.

Beads of water slid down his defined abs.

Sophia was drying her hair when he lifted her effortlessly.

"Wait—" she gasped.

His lips were already on her collarbone.

"No protection..." she protested.

"Then we'll remarry if you're pregnant." He nipped her earlobe.

"Your father—"

"To hell with him." Ethan pinned her beneath him.

Moonlight filtered through the curtains.

Their bodies tangled desperately.

As if trying to purge days of fear and tension.

Sophia's nails dug into his back.

Ethan panted against her ear.

Tonight, they needed to forget everything.

To reaffirm each other in the most primal way.