Milo Roland had just reached the sofa when Ethan Roscente's voice cut through the silence behind him.

His body stiffened mid-sit, frozen in place.

"Mr. Roscente, I tried to talk her out of it." Milo straightened, his voice tense. "But with our current situation... she has no choice but to keep working there."

No one wished for Jenna to leave that place more than he did.

Yet his illness was a bottomless pit, devouring piles of medical bills every single day.

Jenna was his only family. She refused to give up on him, no matter what.

"Money trouble?" Ethan's tone was glacial.

Milo's fingers twisted together unconsciously. "Congenital heart disease. The doctors say I need surgery."

Ethan stepped closer, his brow shadowed with frost.

"How much?"

"Over a million." Milo gave a bitter smile. "Our uncle took over the orchard our parents left us. We've been... living on borrowed grace."

He suddenly realized he'd said too much and quickly lowered his head. "Sorry. I shouldn't have—"

So that was how difficult her life had been.

Ethan's eyes darkened as he turned and walked into the bedroom.

He picked up his phone and dialed a number.

......

At 3:30 AM, Jenna dragged her exhausted body home.

When she opened the wardrobe, she froze.

The once-empty closet was now packed with clothes.

Jackets and dresses of every style hung neatly, with several pairs of brand-new shoes lined up below.

Her gaze instinctively shifted to the man sleeping on the bed.

Did he... buy all this?

But theirs was supposed to be a marriage of convenience. Why would he do this?

Her fingers brushed against the sleeve of a cashmere coat. The fabric was impossibly soft.

As the sound of running water filled the bathroom, Ethan opened his eyes.

He was a light sleeper, roused by the slightest noise.

Which was how he always knew the exact moment she returned each night.

When Jenna stepped out after her shower, she was stunned again by the array of skincare products on the vanity.

Each bottle bore elegant English labels, their packaging as refined as works of art.

She picked up a jar of cream and inhaled the delicate scent of roses.

The fragrance... inexplicably reminded her of Ethan's crisp, pine-like cologne.