The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in twilight hues.

Ethan Sullivan loosened his tie with slender fingers, his icy gaze settling on his assistant. "Any findings?"

"Mr. Sullivan, Dr. Julian Evans has no childhood nickname. His family only calls him Julian or Jules."

The expected answer eased the frost in Ethan's eyes. Sophia Laurent had always been cautious—she wouldn't openly parade with an old flame during their marriage.

He stood, fastening his suit jacket. "Send someone else to tonight's engagement."

The black Maybach glided toward Antique Treasures.

"I'm outside the shop," he said, voice low as the call connected.

Sophia's surprised response filtered through. "We're having a staff dinner. Everyone's here."

"Julian too?"

"He's the owner's son."

Ethan's knuckles whitened, though his tone remained calm. "I'll pick you up when it's over."

"Thank you." Her deliberate distance pricked like a thorn, tightening his chest.

Hanging up, he dialed Oliver Granger. "Bring the company seal and the land contract. Meet me at La Belle Époque in thirty minutes."

At Le Jardin Secret, the signing concluded swiftly.

Oliver lounged in his chair, fox-like eyes narrowing. "Bad mood?"

"Not particularly." Ethan swirled his glass, amber liquid catching the light.

"Tsk. Buying land to vent? Next time, hit me up—my old man's got prime plots." Oliver smirked before sobering. "Sophia's a good woman."

Ethan's gaze darkened. "She married me for money three years ago. Resentment festers."

"That's why you're divorcing?" Oliver's brows shot up.

"What choice do I have?" He drained his drink, the burn failing to scorch away his gloom.

A knock interrupted them.

Isabella Valentine swayed in, a Chanel jacket draped over her arm. "Ethan, what a coincidence."

She slid beside him, tapping the menu. "I love everything you do."

When her manicured fingers coiled around his arm, Ethan saw only Sophia carefully peeling shrimp—the gentle curve of her eyes when the meat came free whole.

"Peel some for me~" Isabella's whine snapped him back.

As he offered the shrimp, she suddenly sucked his finger. The wet heat made him jerk back, scrubbing furiously with a sanitizing towel.

Oliver grimaced, whipping out his phone:

[Sophia, get to Le Jardin Secret NOW! Your husband's under siege!]

At Kyoto Grand Hotel, Sophia stared at the abruptly ended call. The second text chilled her fingertips:

[CODE RED!]