When Charlotte drifted awake the next morning, the space beside her was already cold. Zachary was gone.

A wave of edginess washed over her. Today was no ordinary day—Sharon had officially moved in, and even the formidable Old Mr. Nacht was under this roof. As Zachary’s secret lover, Charlotte felt utterly clueless. How was she supposed to navigate a house where the legitimate fiancée and the family patriarch were having breakfast downstairs?

As she spiraled into her thoughts, a soft knock sounded, and Raina entered. Charlotte instinctively moved to tidy the tangled, messy sheets—evidence of the night’s passion—but Raina was already there with her medical trolley, followed by two maids and a pair of female paramedics.

Charlotte felt a flush of intense embarrassment creep up her neck, but the staff moved with clinical indifference; they had long since grown used to the sights and sounds of this bedroom.

Raina checked Charlotte’s injuries and signaled the maids to assist her with a bath. The soak was a relief; Charlotte had felt sticky and uncomfortable, her skin still humming from the previous night. Once she was clean and dressed in a snug, oversized cotton dress, she emerged to find the room transformed—fresh linens were on the bed, and all traces of the night had been erased.

As Raina began changing her bandages, Charlotte asked in a hushed, tentative voice, "Are... are Old Mr. Nacht and Ms. Blackwood still downstairs?"

"They're having breakfast," Raina replied with a small, professional smile. "Don't worry, Mr. Nacht is there too."

His presence is exactly why I’m worried, Charlotte thought bitterly.

Restlessness gnawed at her, but she knew she couldn’t hide in this bedroom forever. Besides, she told herself, this 'relationship' was his doing, not mine. If the old man hits the roof and kicks me out, forbidding Zachary from ever seeing me again... that wouldn't be a punishment. It would be a liberation.

Bracing herself, Charlotte drew a long, shaky breath and stepped out of the room.

"Ms. Windt, slow down. Let me help you," a young paramedic said, quickly catching her arm to ensure she didn't stumble on the stairs.

Treading carefully down the spiral staircase, Charlotte was met with a scene of "domestic bliss" in the dining room. Sharon was sparing no effort to please the Old Master, occasionally leaning in to tease Zachary with a sweet word.

Zachary, for his part, barely reacted. He sat with a copy of Fortune magazine, his lips quirked in a non-committal ghost of a smile.

"Eat your breakfast and read that later," Old Mr. Nacht said, rapping his knuckles softly on the table. "Sharon is talking to you. Are you deaf?"

Zachary finally lowered the magazine and glanced at Sharon. "What?"

"I was just saying," Sharon replied, her smile widening, "shall we go for a site inspection together this afternoon?"

"The site is a jumbled mess," Zachary said dismissively. "It’s better if you stay away and send someone else in your place."

As he spoke, his gaze drifted toward the stairs.

Charlotte stood there in her simple white cotton dress, her dark hair falling loose over her shoulders. She looked refreshing and innocent, save for the flickering shadow of unease in her eyes. Raina guided her toward the table, sensing her mounting nerves.

"Oh, Charlotte is awake!" Sharon looked up, her voice ringing with a gracious, almost maternal kindness. "Come, join us for breakfast."

"Thank you... but I’m not really hungry," Charlotte replied politely, her voice small. "I—"

"There’s no need for such formalities here," Sharon interrupted. She rose, walked over, and took Charlotte’s hand with a practiced warmth. "Zachary lost his temper and hurt you last night. As your boss, he’s only doing his duty by letting you recuperate here temporarily. So, don’t worry. Just make yourself at home."

The remark was so perfectly decorous it left Charlotte speechless.

She couldn't tell if this was a cover story Zachary had fed Sharon, or if Sharon had invented it herself to save face. It was crystal clear to everyone in the room what Charlotte’s true identity was, yet they were all participating in this ludicrous masquerade. Is she really playing dumb, or is she just that confident?

An even more chilling reality set in when Old Mr. Nacht looked up. He appraised Charlotte from head to toe with a cold, dispassionate gaze.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Char... Charlotte," she stammered, her pulse quickening.

"How old are you?"

The interrogation felt less like a conversation and more like a criminal deposition.

"Twenty-three," she answered softly.

"I heard you’re a secretary at Divine Corporation. Is that true?"

Charlotte managed a small nod. "Yes, sir."

"I’ve studied your resume. You never graduated from university, and you possess no particular professional strengths." Old Mr. Nacht suddenly tossed a pile of documents onto the table, his voice dripping with high-and-mighty disdain. "With qualifications like these, you aren't even fit to be a janitor at Divine. Tell me... how exactly did you 'worm' your way in?"