Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Imperial Cauldron Club.

Ethan Sullivan's slender fingers tapped lightly on the table as he transformed contract clauses into effortless negotiation artistry. Shane Prescott sat nearby, watching his younger brother's composed profile with admiration.

Even after six months of business training, Shane still couldn't master that innate ease.

"Pleasure doing business." Ethan stood to shake hands with the client, his suit cuffs reflecting a cold gleam.

Inside the elevator, Shane offered him a ginseng candy. "Tired?"

"Used to it." Ethan loosened his tie. "Growing up watching Victor, these formalities became second nature."

Shane's eyes darkened. "Your childhood—"

"Brother," Ethan chuckled, "I never pitied you when you were tomb raiding."

They exchanged knowing smiles.

Victor's call came the moment they stepped out of the hotel. After hanging up, Ethan checked his watch. "I'll go with you."

At Rendezvous Bistro's first-floor dining room, sunlight illuminated Tiffany Winston's flawless makeup as she slid her business card across the table. "Tiffany Winston, Winston Group."

Ethan immediately understood. He gave Shane a meaningful look before excusing himself.

The "chance encounter" with Vincent Valentine at the entrance was painfully staged.

"Mr. Sullivan!" Vincent approached eagerly. "What a coincidence!"

Ethan nodded curtly and walked away, catching Vincent's deliberately loud boast: "My son-in-law is the eldest Sullivan heir..."

Inside the car, Victor's laughter crackled through the phone. "Well? Did you see Vincent's face?"

"Too obvious."

"Good," Victor sneered. "He needs to learn there are consequences for overreaching."

Back at the table, Tiffany was cutting her steak into delicate pieces. "Mr. Prescott, do you often—"

His phone vibrated. Shane's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly at the caller ID.

"With a client." His voice remained perfectly calm.

After a pause, the caller spoke. "Luna's returning tomorrow."

When the call ended, Tiffany noticed the man's eyes had turned icy.

From the second-floor balcony, Vincent glared at the conversing pair below. His fingers trembled as he dialed Victor.

"An arranged marriage?" His voice rose sharply. "Is this a joke?"

"The Winston heiress is a perfect match," Victor said cheerfully. "Don't you agree?"

Vincent's vision darkened. He frantically sent his daughter ten urgent texts, then called his wife. "Come home now! It's an emergency!"

The next midnight, Luna Valentine dragged her suitcase inside only to be cornered by her father in the foyer.

"Shane, he—"

"Dad," Luna interrupted wearily. "I need sleep."

Three hours later, Shane's SUV screeched to a halt outside the Valentine residence. He burst into the bedroom to find Luna trapped in nightmares.

"What happened?" His voice was tight.

Vincent wrung his hands. "The doctor said... lovesickness."

Shane whirled around, his gaze sharp as a blade.

"What did you give her?"