Harper Sutton secretly sent Cassian Lennox's caged bird out of the country—without telling him a word.

That same night, he kidnapped her parents. And now, he was ready to trade their lives for the girl's whereabouts.

He slid his phone across the table toward her. On the screen, her parents were tied to chairs, timer-triggered bombs strapped to their chests. The countdown ticked away, second by second.

0:59:59

0:59:58

He sat across from her, immaculately dressed in a tailored suit. His long fingers tapped the table lightly like he was just waiting for someone to sign a boring contract.

"Harper, you've got 59 minutes," he said in a voice eerily calm—almost gentle. "Tell me. Where did you send Whitney?"

Harper felt cold all over. Her throat tightened so hard she couldn't even make a sound.

This was the third time he'd asked her.

The first time, he'd asked where Whitney Livingston had gone. She stayed silent.

He grabbed her chin the second time, brushing her lips with his thumb. His voice was low, almost coaxing. "Harper, stop throwing a tantrum."

Now, the third time.

And this time, he was using her parents' lives to force her hand.

"Cassian..." Her voice shook. "They're my parents. They mean everything to me."

He gave a soft laugh, but his eyes were terrifyingly cold. "Oh, really? Then, when you sent Whitney away, did it cross your mind how much she means to me?"

Harper stared at him, frozen. And suddenly, she found it all absurd.

Important?

He used to say the women outside were just flings—he'd drop them the moment he got bored.

He used to say she was the one he loved most.

But now, for Whitney, he was ready to kill her parents.

"Cassian," she said hoarsely, "if I don't tell you, would you really let them die?"

He leaned in slightly, his dark eyes reflecting her pale, stricken face. "You can test me."

Harper's whole body trembled. Her tears hit the table with soft splashes, she felt helpless.

She didn't understand how things had come to this.

Cassian had once loved her—so fiercely, so sincerely.

Back then, she was just an ordinary girl from a regular family. But he was the successor to one of the most powerful families in Hollywood. Born with status and pride, someone who never bowed to anyone.

And yet, he fell in love with her at first sight.

He pursued her through every corner of the city and made 99 grand public confessions, each one more sensational than the last.

He dropped a curtain of roses from a helicopter. Rented out the entire financial district's LED screens to declare his love. On her birthday, he lit up the entire city skyline with fireworks just for her.

She was moved. But her parents were firmly against it.

They knew all too well what kind of world the upper class lived in. At home, there was the official wife; outside, there were countless lovers. The love of the rich and powerful was never a fairytale.

They wanted her to marry someone more down-to-earth and who matched their values. But Cassian stood in front of their house all day and night. He gave up every bit of pride just to beg for the chance to marry her.

Eventually, her parents relented.

After they married, he doted on her endlessly. He gave in to her in everything.

Once when she had really bad cramps, he bought a cocoa bean back from overseas just to make her hot cocoa.

If she casually mentioned craving that apple pie from a bakery across town, he would drive halfway through the city to get it for her.

She really thought she'd married the right person.

Until the first time she heard the name Whitney.

It came up casually—her assistant was chatting about some college girl who faked a fall during one of Cassian's speeches, clearly trying to get close to him. A classic attention-seeking move.

She laughed it off. Women like that were everywhere, and he had always kept his distance.

But the second time she heard it was in bed.

He was on top of her, deep in the moment—when he suddenly whispered, low and breathless, "Whitney..."

And instantly felt like she'd fallen into a pit of ice.

She confronted him. And he held her in his arms, calmly explaining that, yes, he did have the idea of keeping Whitney as a mistress, but it was just for fun, nothing serious.

"Everyone in our circle does this, Harper. But the one I love most is still you. That's never going to change."

But over time, he stopped pretending to care.

He bought Whitney jewelry, gifted her a luxury villa, and even brought her to private parties. The rumors were everywhere, spreading like wildfire.

She cried, argued, and begged. But he never coaxed her like he used to. Now, all he gave her was a cold, dismissive response. "Stop being unreasonable."

Eventually, she hit her limit—so she sent Whitney out of the country.

What she didn't expect was that he would react like this. That he'd kidnap her parents, and strap bombs to their chests just to force her into telling him where Whitney went.

"She's in Switzerland," she finally choked out, voice trembling. "Zurich. The villa is in my name."

He stared at her for a few seconds, as if trying to tell if she was lying. Then he picked up his phone and made a call.

After confirming it, he grabbed his suit jacket and turned to leave in a hurry.

"What about my parents?!" she grabbed his sleeve, desperate. "You said if I told you, you'd let them go!"

He looked back at her, eyes cold and flat. "Abandoned factory in the south. Go find them yourself."

Harper stumbled out the door and jumped in her car, speeding straight to the city's south side.

When she finally found them, the bomb timer was down to ten minutes.

Her parents were tied to chairs, mouths taped shut. The second they saw her, they began shaking their heads wildly, trying to warn her to run.

She ran to them, hands shaking as she tried to untie the ropes. But the timer beeped with every passing second, each one like a death sentence.

0:03:21

0:03:20

Her fingers were useless. She couldn't get the knots undone. Her tears fell nonstop.

Suddenly, her dad shoved her hard. She staggered back, and in the very next second, he threw his whole body onto the bomb.

"Dad!!!"

The explosion was deafening. The heatwave slammed into her, sending her flying.

She hit the ground hard; everything in her vision stained blood-red.

***

When she woke up, she was in the hospital.

Both of her parents were seriously injured, but they survived.

She knelt beside the hospital bed, crying her heart out. "I'm sorry... I chose the wrong person."

Her mom, pale and weak, raised a hand and stroked her hair. "Silly girl, just start over."

She shook her head. "He won't let me go."

When she first found out about Whitney, she couldn't handle it. She did think about divorce.

But every time she drafted an agreement, Cassian would tear it up.

He kept saying Whitney was just a fling. That once he got bored, he'd get rid of her. And that his true love was Harper—he would never let her leave.

Her father took her hand. "No, Harper. There's something you don't know, and he probably forgot." He looked at her seriously. "The night we agreed to let you marry him, your mother and I made him sign a divorce contract."

She froze.

"If he ever betrayed you," her father said softly, "the contract would take effect. You could walk away immediately. And we'd disappear with you."

Harper sat there in stunned silence, tears flowing down her face.

Her parents had already prepared a way out for her long ago.

***

The next day, Harper did two things.

First, she went to the law office with her parents and signed the divorce contract.

The lawyer looked it over and nodded. "It's valid. The divorce is effective immediately."

Second, the whole family went to start the process of officially closing her records.

Once the process was complete, 'Harper Sutton' would no longer exist in any official records.

And Cassian would never be able to find her again.

When Harper learned that the closing process would take half a month to complete, she discussed it with her parents. In the end, they decided she would return to the Lennox family.

She had to stay by Cassian's side for the next two weeks without raising a single suspicion.

Otherwise, none of them would ever get out alive with how he operated.

Back at the villa, Harper immediately began packing.

She threw all the things she once treasured—photos, handwritten love letters, souvenirs from their trips—into the fireplace.

The flames devoured the past like it was nothing more than a pathetic, burned-out dream.

The next day, Harper went to the backyard.

There, stood an entire grove of oak trees planted by Cassian himself. He once said oaks symbolized loyalty. Just like his love for her—strong, steady, and unshakable.

She picked up an axe and chopped them down, one by one.

The staff stood at a distance. No one dared approach her; no one tried to stop her. The dull sound of cracking trunks echoed across the yard, each strike like the brutal severing of some old obsession.

On the third day, Harper went to Lover's Leap at the top of the hill.

A heart-shaped padlock still hung from the railing, carved with their names. Cassian had held her in his arms that day and tossed the key off the cliff, swearing they'd be locked together for life.

Now, Harper clipped the chain with a pair of pliers.

The lock hit the ground with a crisp clang.

She turned and walked away without so much as a glance back.

When she returned to the villa, two more people were in the living room.

Cassian was seated on the sofa, and Whitney was curled up in his arms. Her face was pale, delicate to the point of fragility as if the slightest breeze would knock her over.

Harper walked past them without a word, her face expressionless, and headed straight upstairs.

"Stop," Cassian's cold voice rang out behind her.

She froze in place but didn't turn around.

"Do you know why I brought her back?" he asked.

"Don't care."

"After you sent her away, she couldn't adjust to the climate overseas. She barely slept for days." His voice carried a hint of reproach. "Harper, you owe her an apology."

At that, Harper finally turned to face them.

Whitney clutched Cassian's sleeve like she was scared, but there was a flicker of smug triumph in her eyes.

"And if I don't apologize?" Harper asked calmly.

"It's okay, really," Whitney spoke softly, playing the innocent. "A little mistreatment doesn't matter to me. After all, Harper is still the official wife."

Cassian immediately tightened his arm around her. "Didn't I tell you not to always act so understanding?"

He kissed the top of her head. "From now on, I'll spoil you. You can be however you want."

Harper's lips curled into a bitter smile.

A servant brought in a bowl of soup, saying it was specially prepared to help Whitney sleep.

Just then, Cassian's phone rang.

He glanced at the caller ID and gently told Whitney, "You always say you get a headache when I talk about work. I'll take this call outside. Drink the soup, alright?"

With that, he got up and walked out.

Harper stood there, her heart splitting like it'd been slammed with an axe.

He insisted on never discussing business publicly, saying it was too sensitive. But for Whitney, he'd even changed that.

Now the only two left in the room were Harper and Whitney.

The softness vanished from Whitney's face in an instant. In its place was the cold arrogance of a victor.

"See that?" Whitney let out a light laugh. "Sure, you're the one with the title, you're Mrs. Lennox. You even used it to send me away. But Cassian's body and heart? They're both mine."

Harper looked at her calmly. "If you want him, take him."

Whitney froze for a second, then snapped in anger. "I don't need you to give him to me! He'll be mine eventually, completely. Even your place will be mine!"

But Harper's indifference only infuriated her more.

Just then, Cassian's footsteps sounded from outside.

A flash of viciousness passed through Whitney's eyes. Suddenly, she grabbed the steaming bowl of soup and dumped it on herself.

"Ah!" she screamed. Tears sprang from her eyes on cue.

By the time Cassian rushed in, all he saw was Whitney drenched in hot soup, looking pitiful and devastated as the liquid dripped down her clothes. She was crying like a shattered porcelain doll.

"Harper!" His voice was laced with fury. "You refuse to apologize, and now this?!"

"It wasn't me," Harper replied coolly. "Check the security footage."

"Fine. I will." His laugh was cold and sharp.

But Whitney clutched his arm before he could move. "Cassian, it's not her fault. I shouldn't have tried to stay by your side. I'll go now."

She stepped forward to leave, but Cassian yanked her back instantly.

"I just found you again, and now you want to leave my sight? Are you trying to kill me?"

He held her tightly like he was clinging to something he thought he'd lost forever.

Then he turned to Harper, his gaze like ice.

"I'll make sure you pay for this."

Harper was thrown into the cold storage room.

As the guards dragged her in, she fought back desperately. "Cassian! Just check the security footage! It wasn't me!"

He didn't even look at her. "I don't need to check," he said coldly. "I only trust her."

The heavy door slammed shut.

Darkness and cold swallowed her in an instant.

Harper curled into a corner, shaking all over. But even this bone-deep chill couldn't compare to the coldness in her heart.

So this was what he called love?

Tears rolled silently down her face.

She'd always had a cold body and because of that she was extremely sensitive to the cold.

After they married, Cassian had paid a fortune to install a central heating system throughout the house. Even the garden outside felt like spring all year round.

In the winter, he used to pull her icy hands and feet into his arms to warm them up, smiling as he said, "For the rest of my life, I'll keep you warm like this."

Looking back now, maybe those vows only ever meant something in the moment they were spoken.

The next day, just as Harper was on the verge of losing consciousness from the cold, the door to the storage room finally creaked open.

A bodyguard stood at the entrance, expressionless. "Mr. Lennox said the punishment won't be this light next time."

She braced herself against the wall and stumbled out, shivering uncontrollably, her teeth chattering from the cold.

There wouldn't be a next time.

She'd soon ensure Cassian was gone from her world for good.

That evening, his assistant delivered a gown and jewelry set, saying she was required to attend a charity auction dinner.

Harper went.

And right at the entrance to the banquet hall, she saw Whitney.

She was dressed in haute couture, a dazzling diamond necklace around her neck—the same one Cassian had spent seven figures on at last month's auction.

Harper stopped in her tracks and looked at Cassian. "She's here too. Why bother asking me to come?"

He looked indifferent. "I wasn't going to bring her, but she's never been to an event like this. She wanted to see it, so I brought her along."

After a pause, he added casually, "Harper, don't be so petty."

She trembled slightly.

It wasn't about being petty.

It was about the utter disregard—how he brought both his wife and his mistress to the same public event without thinking how much humiliation it would bring her.

Cassian walked inside with Whitney on his arm, her smile radiant, clinging sweetly to him.

Around them, people whispered.

"Mr. Lennox and his wife look so good together. What a perfect match."

"You've got it wrong. That's Mrs. Lennox over there. The one next to him was just a mistress."

The first speaker glanced at Harper awkwardly and mumbled, "Well, Mr. Lennox treats her better. That necklace's the real deal. The one his wife's wearing looks like a gift bag freebie. No wonder I got confused."

Harper clenched her fists, nails digging deep into her palms.

As the auction began, she casually placed a few bids on some items.

But no matter what she bid on, Whitney always raised the price by exactly one dollar.

Soft sneakers rippled through the crowd.

"The mistress outbidding the wife? This is a first."

Expressionless, she raised her paddle high, signaling she was all in—no matter the cost, she'd outbid anyone. No cap.

Whitney's face paled. She tugged pitifully at Cassian's sleeve. "Cassian. I really like that piece."

He frowned and looked over. "Harper, let her have it."

"No."

"She can't go all-in like that, but I can—because I'm your wife. Joint marital assets, remember?" Harper turned to Whitney, voice sharp with mockery. "No matter how much he gives you, you'll never measure up to me."

Tears welled up in Whitney's eyes. She suddenly stood up, face twisted with emotion. "You..."

Then, in the next second, she covered her face and burst into tears. "You're right. You're his wife. I'm just a mistress who'll never see the light of day. I was wrong to dream." She turned to Cassian. "Let's just end it, Cassian. This was a mistake."

With that, she ran out of the hall.

Cassian's face darkened instantly. He grabbed Harper's wrist with such force that it felt like he was going to crush her bones. "I told you, I'd get bored eventually. But you had to go and push her away?"

Harper met his eyes, calm and cold. "Whether she leaves or not—what's that got to do with me?"

His gaze turned stormy. He threw her hand away and stormed out after Whitney.

Harper stayed where she was, surrounded by eyes filled with ridicule, mockery, and pity.

But she didn't care.

She'd be gone soon anyway.

Except—she was jolted awake the next morning by a push notification on her phone.

"Breaking news! 999 Private Photos of Lennox Group CEO's Wife to Be Auctioned at Sotheby's!"

Her blood froze.

Those photos were the only ones that the person who ever had them was Cassian.