Chapter 1

Logan Whitfield had cheated.

Vivian Hartwell stood outside the fitting room of a bridal boutique and listened to her fiance with another woman.

"Logan, be honest. Does this dress look better on me, or on your fiancee?" Sloane Mercer asked.

"On you," Logan replied without hesitation. "I can't get enough of you. Doesn't that prove it?"

Sloane laughed, satisfied. "Good. I want you to remember me. On your wedding day, and every anniversary after that, you'll think of today."

The voices were low, but clear enough to leave Vivian cold all over on the other side of the door.

So, this was why Logan had been "traveling" so often.

Vivian fought down a wave of nausea and went to her car.

They had been together for seven years, and together, they had built Whitfield Group from nothing into what it was now.

Her sister, Camille Hartwell, had always warned her that Logan wasn't the right man.

Just then, Vivian received a message from Camille on her phone. "We won't be attending your wedding. Do as you please."

Vivian's eyes reddened as she typed back. "I'm not getting married."

The reply didn't come right away. When it finally did, it was blunt. "Come back to Durmont in a month, and I'll believe you. If you don't, we're done as sisters."

Vivian sent a single word. "Okay."

Then, she put her phone away, started the engine, and drove.

Logan had just emerged from the bridal boutique with Sloane clinging to his arm.

The moment he spotted Vivian's license plate disappearing down the road, he froze. For a heartbeat, hesitation flickered across his face.

Logan brushed Sloane's hand away, smoothed his clothes, and snapped his polished facade back into place. "I'll have my assistant take you home."

Sloane pouted. "No. You said you'd go shopping with me."

Logan silenced her with a look and a pat on the head. "Be good."

Sloane didn't dare push. She withdrew her hand and left with his assistant, Jack Patterson.

Once she was gone, Logan walked to his car. The paint reflected his face clearly, and there wasn't a trace of indulgence in his features.

When he got back, he found Vivian's car in the garage. She sat behind the wheel, looking down at her phone.

"You went out?" He opened the car door, tossed the suit jacket he'd been carrying onto the passenger seat, and leaned in close.

His black shirt was undone by two buttons, the lines of his chest visible in the gap. There wasn't a single mark on him left by another woman.

Seeing that Vivian stayed silent, Logan leaned in as if to kiss her.

She locked her phone, raised a hand to block him, and said sharply, "Are you afraid I'll go out?"

Logan went silent for a moment. "Why would I be? You can go out whenever you want. I just worry you'll get bored if no one's with you."

He smiled, sliding an arm around her waist and lowering his voice to a soothing murmur. "Tell me. Who upset my sweetheart?"

Vivian didn't answer. She just looked at his strikingly handsome face, her gaze as cold as ice.

Logan hadn't changed at all. He could sense the moment her mood shifted, pinpoint the reason, and deliver exactly the kind of comfort he knew she craved.

Vivian shook her head, turned her gaze away, and spoke indifferently. "Logan, you've been busy lately. I don't think there's any need to go through with the wedding. I'm worried you won't have the time."

Logan's expression hardened. In his mind, she was being unreasonable, especially now that people knew who he was.

"Say that again!" he snapped.

Vivian met his eyes. "There's no need to go through with the wedding. I'm worried you won't have the time."

She moved to get out of the car, but Logan grabbed her arm, anger flashing in his eyes.

"I'm busy for our company, for our future. Do you want our child to fall behind the second they're born?

"I just got back from a work trip, and you didn't show a bit of concern. Instead, you start acting petty and picking fights. When did you become like this?"

Vivian stared at him, listening to his accusations. It almost made her laugh.

The man in front of her felt like a stranger.

His mouth was full of lies. Like most men, even after cheating, he pushed every mistake onto the woman he'd hurt.

It was as if his betrayal had been forced on him, as though she'd held a knife to his throat and made him sleep with another woman.

The wedding was two months away. Camille had given Vivian one month to deal with everything here.

In one month, Logan would disappear from her world.

Vivian went upstairs without another word. She walked into her room and stepped into the bathroom to wash up.

Logan followed her in and wrapped his arms around her from behind, softening his tone. "It's all my fault, Vivi. I've been too busy and I ignored how you felt. For the next few days, I'll cancel everything. After work, I'll come straight home and stay with you, okay?"

Vivian lifted her gaze to the mirror and looked at the man trying to coax her. A faint, mocking smile curved at her lips. "Why bother? I—"

His phone rang before she could finish. The ringtone was a warm, sweet love song that had just gone viral.

He used to keep the default system ringtone.

Vivian remembered back when they were in love and the company was just getting started. She'd asked him to switch to a duet love song with her, but he'd refused, saying he met clients all the time and it wouldn't look professional.

So, it hadn't been that it wouldn't look professional. She just hadn't been worth changing it for.

Logan glanced at the screen once and rejected the call. "Scam call."

Vivian's lips pressed into a thin line. She'd clearly seen the caller ID—181 Seconds—but she only nodded and said nothing.

A second later, his phone rang again. Logan declined the call once more.

Then, it rang again. Finally, he turned his back to her and answered.

"There've been a few important projects lately. I'm busy. I hope you can be more understanding. I'll be working late at the office tonight. I'll come back tomorrow morning and take you to try on wedding dresses. Don't wait for me. Get some sleep."

Vivian didn't look at him. She kept brushing her teeth, watching in the mirror as Logan walked out and closed the door behind him.

After he left, she pulled out her phone and searched what 181 Seconds meant.

One explanation jumped out immediately.

"People lose interest after three minutes, but you're my 181st second."

Vivian swallowed the sudden ache in her chest. She opened a home-listing app and put the villa they lived in up for sale.

In one month, she would return to Durmont. Everything she owned in Baymoor would mean nothing to her anymore. She didn't want any of it, including Logan.

Chapter 2

Vivian had listed the villa for hundreds of thousands below the market price. It didn't take long before her inbox filled with messages from eager buyers.

By the time she'd replied to them all, it was already late.

Sleep wouldn't come, so she opened a women's app that had been trending lately. The moment she got in, one pushed post immediately caught her eye.

"My boyfriend's getting married in two months. Today, he had sex with me while I was wearing his fiancee's wedding dress in a bridal boutique. It was amazing and thrilling."

The comments were vicious, filled with curses and condemnation. Some even hoped the algorithm would push the post straight to the fiancee.

Vivian's hand trembled. She tapped into the poster's profile.

Scrolling quickly, she found the very first post. There was no caption, only a photo of two hands intertwined, fingers laced together.

She recognized the tiny mole on the man's index finger and the ring on his ring finger.

The post had been uploaded half a year ago, just a week after Logan had proposed to her.

Vivian stared blankly at the matching ring on her own ring finger, nausea rising. In the next instant, she yanked it off, tossed it into the toilet, and flushed.

Something so tainted didn't deserve to stay on her hand.

Soon, another post appeared. This time, the tone wasn't smug. On the contrary, the tone was pleading.

"Stop cursing at me. We already agreed. In one month, I'll return him to his fiancee, whole and untouched."

The photo showed a man's back on a bed.

That back was familiar enough to make Vivian's skin crawl.

Whole and untouched? What a joke.

Vivian let out a short, bitter laugh. For the first time, she understood why people laughed when words failed them.

Logan didn't come home that night.

Early the next morning, he called her. He didn't explain a thing. He merely instructed her to meet him at the bridal boutique.

Vivian arrived at the bridal boutique a few minutes before Logan.

Her wedding dress hung in the VIP showroom on the third floor, pristine and untouched, as if it had never been sullied.

"Ms. Hartwell, Mr. Whitfield is on his way. Why don't we help you into the dress first? Then, when he arrives, he'll see how perfect you look," the attendant suggested gently. Yet, pity flickered in her eyes.

Vivian's expression stayed cool. "No need."

It made her sick.

The words had barely left her lips when a familiar arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close.

A clean, soapy scent filled her breath.

"Why not, Vivi? Do you have any idea how long I've waited for today? Put it on for me, please."

Vivian turned her head and looked at Logan. He appeared fresh and put together, nothing like a man who had supposedly worked all night.

He hadn't come alone. Not far behind him stood a young woman in light blue jeans and a simple white shirt, her sweet smile making her look innocent and bright.

Vivian's gaze slid past Logan and landed on the young woman, her eyes turning cold.

Was this another little game they had set up for excitement?

Logan noticed where she was looking. His arm tightened around her waist, though his expression remained casual.

"She's an employee from one of our partners. She reminds me of you from years ago, so I thought you might like her and want to meet her."

He lifted a hand and beckoned. The young woman jogged over eagerly and extended her hand.

"Hi, Ms. Hartwell. I'm Sloane Mercer. I'm really happy to meet you."

Vivian didn't take her hand. She drew her gaze back, not even looking at her as she spoke, her tone indifferent. "You're so pretty. I suppose a lot of men wouldn't mind a fleeting moment with you."

Sloane's smile faltered, and her eyes grew damp with grievance. "Are you saying I'm the kind of woman who knows how to lure men in?"

The hand at Vivian's waist suddenly pinched hard.

Vivian glanced sideways and caught the displeasure in Logan's eyes. Only then did he loosen his grip slightly and lower his head to murmur near her ear.

"If you're angry, take it out on me when we get home. She's thin-skinned. Don't embarrass her to her face."

He straightened, still gentle. "Let's try the dress."

The attendants snapped out of their shock and hurried to take the dress down.

Vivian looked at Sloane again and saw the way her eyes lit up as she stared at the gown in the attendant's hands.

A chill flickered through Vivian's gaze. "Do you like it?"

"I like it," Sloane answered without hesitation.

Then, she glanced carefully at Logan. When she caught the coolness in his eyes, she lowered her lashes and added softly, envy and caution tangled together. "I mean, I like it, but not every woman is as lucky as you, Ms. Hartwell, to wear the dress she loves and marry the man she loves."

The disappointment in her face was impossible to miss.

Vivian's eyes slid toward Logan, whose expression was unreadable. Then, she spoke to the attendant in an even tone. "I'm not feeling well today. I don't want to move around. She's about my size. Let her try it on for me."

After what they had done in that fitting room, Vivian didn't even want the fabric brushing her skin. The thought of it made her feel contaminated.

The attendants didn't dare move. They looked at Logan, cautious and unsure.

Logan lowered his gaze to Vivian, his expression turning grim.

Sloane, on the other hand, didn't hesitate. She stepped forward with that same sweet smile. "Sure. It's my pleasure to try on a wedding dress for you, Ms. Hartwell."

She reached for the gown.

The attendants froze. Unsure what to do, they could only look at Logan again.

His dark eyes held a sharp, warning chill.

Sloane bit her lip, suddenly flustered.

Vivian lifted Logan's arm off her waist, walked to the nearby couch, and sat down. "Go on."

Sloane smiled again, took the dress from the attendants, and disappeared behind the fitting-room curtain.

Logan followed and sat beside Vivian, his brow drawn tight as if he were about to complain.

Vivian lifted her eyes to him and gave a faint, unreadable smile. "Aren't you going in to help her?"

The entire room went still.

The attendants who had helped Logan and Sloane the day before nearly screamed.

Thank God none of them had taken the day off, or they would have missed seeing this play out in person.

Logan's lips pressed into a thin line, his expression wary. "Vivi, what are you talking about?"

"Nothing." Vivian smiled lightly. "I just thought you'd be happy to."

She turned her head and asked the attendant for a cup of coffee.

A moment later, the fitting-room curtain was pulled back. Sloane stood in the center, shy and bashful, her smile sweet.

The dress that had been made for Vivian looked as though it had been tailored for Sloane instead.

Vivian turned her head and studied Logan's face, her smile cold and devoid of warmth. "Doesn't she look good?"

Logan's face remained dark. He didn't look over. His voice was low and controlled. "Vivi, what are you doing?"

Vivian didn't answer. She picked up the coffee and walked toward Sloane.

As Vivian drew near, Sloane lifted a hand to cover her face, clearly expecting Vivian to throw the coffee at her.

The scalding splash didn't hit her skin. Instead, a gasp rippled through the room.

Sloane lowered her hand and looked down. A brown stain had spread across the expensive dress.

The attendants rushed in with tissues, scrubbing in a panic, but the stain wouldn't come out.

Vivian stared at Sloane without a flicker of emotion and let out a quiet, mocking laugh. "If something's already been stained so badly it can't be cleaned, how are you supposed to return it to me whole and untouched?"

Sloane's face went pale. She stood there, frozen, not knowing what to do.

Logan's brows drew together. He strode over, seized Vivian's wrist, and dragged her as if he meant to take her out.

Vivian moved with the pull and swung her hand up. Her palm cracked across Logan's face.

The sound was sharp, and the bridal boutique fell silent.

She had used nearly all her strength. Her hand went numb from the impact.

Logan turned his head back slowly, his face stormy, his eyes colder than the air around them.

The attendants didn't dare look at him. Even Sloane barely dared to breathe.

Ever since Whitfield Group had gained its footing in Baymoor, Logan hadn't taken a public slight, let alone a slap from a woman.

Vivian met his gaze and felt her heart hammering. The difference in their strength was too great. If he hit back, she couldn't win.

Logan's eyes dropped to her trembling lashes. He let out a slow breath, then slid an arm around her waist. "Do you feel better now?"

Chapter 3

"No," Vivian said.

It had only been a slap. How could she be satisfied?

Logan lifted the hand she'd used on him and pressed a light kiss to her knuckles. "Did it hurt your hand? When we get home, I'll ice it for you and give you a reasonable explanation, alright? Don't stay mad at me over someone insignificant."

Vivian lowered her lashes. A flicker of sadness crossed her eyes. That was probably how men were. Unless she caught him in bed, he never admitted he was wrong.

"Someone insignificant? You mean Ms. Mercer?"

Vivian tilted her head and looked at Sloane.

Sloane's face was pale. She stood there stiffly, like a mannequin, none of the earlier boldness left in her eyes.

"Yes," Logan said firmly, without a second of hesitation.

Sloane's face paled even more.

When they walked out of the bridal boutique, Vivian headed toward her own car.

Logan grabbed her hand and pulled her to his side, forceful and unyielding. "Get in my car. I'll drive you home."

Vivian struggled once. He didn't loosen his grip at all. She couldn't shake him off, so she was dragged toward his car.

Logan opened the passenger door. Resting on the gray-and-black seat was a pink-and-white hair clip.

He calmly reached in, moved it aside, and acted like it was nothing.

Vivian let out a cold laugh. "Want to check again? Make sure there aren't any other personal items in there. If I accidentally find lingerie later, I'm afraid I'll end up with nightmares."

Logan had been holding himself together, but her words made him bristle like a man who'd just been hit where it hurt.

"Vivian, do you have to think that way? I love you, but I won't indulge you. What happened today was the first time, and I want it to be the last. Whitfield Group is at a critical stage right now. My business partners aren't all going to be men.

"You embarrassed Sloane today, and I let it go because she's just a junior employee. But if one day you start suspecting a woman with real status and you act this way again, how is Whitfield Group supposed to go further?"

Vivian looked at him quietly, her clear eyes cold as ice.

Only now did she realize how skilled Logan was at twisting things until she sounded like the problem.

Vivian didn't argue with him, and she didn't get in his car. She turned around, got back into her own car, and drove away.

Outside the bridal boutique, people moved in and out nonstop. Logan didn't chase after Vivian. He opened his car door with a grim expression.

As he bent to get in, he saw Sloane walk out of the bridal boutique, her face still pale.

He paused, then lifted his hand and waved. "Get in."

Meanwhile, Vivian stared at the dented rear of the black luxury car in front of her. The license plate was a string of eights.

She'd gotten distracted for a split second and kissed the back of his car.

Rear-ending meant full responsibility. She had to pay for letting her mind wander.

She opened her door, got out of the car, and hurried to apologize to the man getting out of the other car.

"I'm sorry, I..."

The driver glanced at her and didn't say a word. Instead, he respectfully opened the rear door.

A tall figure stepped out. His shirt buttons were fastened all the way to the collar. Under his sharply defined features was an arrogant, untouchable coldness.

The moment Vivian saw him, a memory flashed through her mind. She knew who he was. He was...

Before she could say anything, he walked away. He leaned back against the roadside railing at an angle, holding his phone in his left hand as he took a call. A light breeze lifted his hair, briefly revealing his forehead.

"Miss, once the car's fixed, contact me. I'll have you come pick it up."

The driver handed Vivian a business card.

Vivian stole a glance over there. The man stayed on the phone. It looked like the call wasn't going well. His brows were slightly drawn, and now and then, he reached out to tease a bird perched on the railing.

Ten minutes later, an MPV pulled up. He got in quickly.

The driver stayed behind to handle the details.

Before leaving, the man looked over in Vivian's direction.

She hurriedly turned her eyes away, suddenly feeling guilty for no reason at all.

By the time everything was handled and all the information was recorded with the insurance company, it was already late at night when Vivian got home.

During that time, Logan had sent her another message. She still didn't reply.

She was exhausted. After washing up, she fell into bed and went under almost immediately.

The next day, she scheduled showings through the home-listing platform for buyers who'd messaged her. She used the opportunity to toss out some of her things.

Most of it was cheap little gifts Logan had given her back when they were students.

She'd treasured them once. Now that she finally saw him clearly, she realized how flimsy everything had been, just like Logan himself.

...

Three days later, when Logan came back, Vivian was in the yard tending to newly bloomed roses.

He walked in from the gate, wrapped an arm around her waist from behind, and pressed close. "Honey, did you miss me?"

Vivian gave a cold laugh. "You had a pretty woman keeping you company. Why would you need me to miss you? You probably just hoped I wouldn't think about you and ruin your fun."

Her voice stayed flat as she slipped out of his arms the moment his attention wavered.

The faint scent of a woman's perfume clung to him. It made her stomach turn.

Logan reacted instantly. He caught her waist again and yanked her back into his chest.

Even through his shirt, the heat of his solid build was unmistakable.

Vivian struggled, but he held her tighter until she couldn't move.

"I only love you. Stop it, alright?" He bent slightly and murmured in her ear, his voice low and coaxing.

Vivian's fingers clenched hard. A rose thorn pierced her skin, and blood welled up, but the sting didn't come close to covering the disgust rising in her.

Her hand dropped, and the rose stem slipped, scattering petals and leaves across the ground.

Logan seemed to notice. He lifted her hand, saw the injury, and frowned.

He lowered his head as if to suck the blood from her finger.

The moment his warm lips touched her skin, Vivian's expression changed sharply.

How could he spend three days tangled up with Sloane, then come back and act devoted to her without missing a beat?

She had no idea how many times those lips had kissed Sloane.

It was too filthy.

Her body reacted before her mind caught up.

Vivian slapped Logan across his refined face. Her palm went numb.

Logan didn't move. He only stared at her, his expression darkened, his eyes colder than she had ever seen.

Chapter 4

Vivian forced down the urge to scream at Logan and turned to go inside the villa.

Logan had been busy these past three days, and Vivian hadn't been idle either.

Photos of him and Sloane coming and going from the same apartment kept pouring into her phone.

With their wedding right around the corner, he had been living with another woman without a shred of guilt, treating it like one last celebration before stepping into the grave of marriage.

Logan followed Vivian in, pulled out the first-aid kit, and found disinfectant and cotton swabs. He walked up to her and grabbed her hand with a grim expression as he cleaned the wound.

"You love these hands most. Don't hurt yourself just because you're angry with me."

Vivian's lips curled into a cold smile. "Aren't you the one who hurt me?"

She didn't stay on that topic. Instead, she pulled out a document from the side and held it up in front of him.

"Read the terms. If there's no issue, sign it."

Logan took the document. The moment he saw what it was, his brows drew together.

"A property division agreement?"

Vivian nodded.

Logan set the papers down and let out a quiet laugh. "We're about to get married. What's the point of signing this?"

He treated what she had said that day as nothing but anger.

They had been together for seven years. She couldn't possibly leave him.

Vivian lifted her eyes to him. She didn't argue, only followed his logic. "Precisely because we're getting married, we should sign it. Premarital assets belong to the individual."

She knew perfectly well that Logan wouldn't believe her until she truly left—until he finally understood she hadn't been speaking out of anger.

Logan watched her with a cool, sharp look. A faint, mocking smile touched his mouth, and he agreed without hesitation. "Fine."

Vivian handed him a pen.

Logan glanced at her and swallowed his irritation. Then, he signed his name and passed the document back.

"You should be over it now, right?"

He reached for her waist.

Vivian took the papers and stepped away from the gesture.

"I'll have it notarized. When the time comes, I'll contact you. I'll need you to cooperate."

Logan's expression darkened instantly. "You don't have even that much trust in me?"

Vivian didn't answer. She treated the document like something precious and slipped it into a ziplock bag.

Her actions said everything.

Logan's expression turned icy. He stared down at her quiet face, a trace of coldness at his lips.

"Vivian, don't you think you've become too materialistic, too vain?"

Vivian met his deep, dark eyes without caring about the label he had slapped on her. Her voice stayed calm. "This isn't a world where love pays the bills. Power and money are what actually keep you afloat."

A man's love changed too easily. Only money and assets never lied.

Logan's expression darkened even further.

Vivian picked up the ziplock bag and went upstairs. As she passed him, she paused. "I didn't make dinner for you. Figure it out yourself."

Then, she went up without looking back.

Logan's expression was terrifyingly dark. When he left, he slammed the door so hard the whole place shook.

Vivian didn't care. After she locked the document in the safe, she went to see her grandmother. She wanted to talk about going back to Durmont.

Not long after her mother's divorce, she died of cancer. Vivian had still been in high school then, and she had depended on her grandmother ever since.

Outside the old courtyard, the last light of the setting sun fell in hazy outlines.

Her grandmother, Eleanor Briggs, lay back in a woven lounge chair, admiring the glowing evening sky.

"Vivian, you're here? Where's Logan?" she asked.

Logan used to come with her to visit almost every week. He never missed.

Vivian didn't want Eleanor to worry. She lowered her eyes and answered as evenly as she could. "He's busy."

Eleanor went quiet for a moment, then rambled on for a while before insisting on seeing Logan. She said she had something to tell him.

Vivian couldn't refuse her, so she called Logan.

He didn't pick up, and she didn't keep trying.

After she steadied herself, she turned back with a smile.

"Grandma, he..."

Eleanor, who had been speaking to her just moments earlier, now lay with her eyes closed in the fading light. One hand hung naturally over the side of the chair. She looked so peaceful, like she had simply fallen asleep.

A sudden panic hit Vivian. The image of her mother's death flashed through her mind.

"Grandma..." Her voice trembled.

Vivian grabbed Eleanor's hand. It was still warm, but there was no response at all.

When the responders arrived, they told her it had been a natural death and urged her to accept it.

Her grandmother had been talking to her only moments ago. But now, she was gone.

Without thinking, Vivian called Logan again.

The call connected, but the voice that came through was Sloane's.

"Ms. Hartwell, what is it? Mr. Whitfield and I are heading to a neighboring city..."

The instant she heard that voice, Vivian went pale and cut the call.

Then, she called her sister in Durmont.

When Camille answered, Vivian pressed her voice down and forced out a single sentence. "Camille, Grandma's gone."

Camille said, "I'm coming right now."

After the call ended, Vivian crouched beside Eleanor and covered her face. She leaned into Eleanor's stiffening body, her shoulders quivering.

Vivian had never regretted anything more.

For a man like Logan, she'd given up the family who truly loved her.

Chapter 5

A week passed before Vivian finished handling Eleanor's funeral.

The Hartwell family was relying almost entirely on Camille. So, as soon as the funeral ended, she headed straight back to Durmont.

Before she left, she warned Vivian about a few things.

Vivian, pale as paper, told Camille she would return on time and cut things off cleanly.

When Vivian got back to the villa from the airport, the purple roses in the yard had withered after a week without care.

Purple roses were supposed to symbolize protective love.

Logan had planted them himself when they first bought the villa.

When Vivian saw the wilted, yellowed roses, a flicker of mockery crossed her eyes. She walked over, yanked every rosebush out by the roots, and tossed them into the trash. Then, she pulled out her phone and made a call.

"Hello. I'll take the price you mentioned last time. If possible, I'd like to sign the contract and transfer the title as soon as we can."

The person on the other end agreed.

After they set a time, Vivian hung up and went upstairs to pack.

She gathered all her valuables and moved them back to Eleanor's house. Everything else connected to Logan, she threw away.

By the time Jack arrived, the trash bins at the front gate were overflowing. He glanced over with faint confusion and looked a second time.

Why did those clothes look so familiar?

When he spotted Vivian, he called out, "Mrs. Whitfield—"

Vivian lifted a hand to stop him. "My last name is Hartwell."

Jack's expression tightened. "Ms. Hartwell, Mr. Whitfield has a banquet tonight. He asked me to pick up a suit. I'd appreciate it if you could help match something for him."

Vivian asked expressionlessly, "Why doesn't he come back and get it himself?"

Jack lowered his head, not daring to meet Vivian's eyes. "Mr. Whitfield just got back from a trip to a neighboring city, then went straight to the office to handle work."

Vivian said, "Is that so? I thought he didn't want to come back."

Jack didn't dare look up.

Vivian wasn't interested in making it harder for him. She glanced at the trash bins and spoke lightly. "Go dig through those."

Jack followed her gaze and saw that the property staff were already hauling the overflowing bins away to be disposed of.

"What?" he asked, confused.

Vivian sounded almost casual. "Hurry up. If you wait, the good stuff will get picked clean."

With that, she walked past him. A moment later, she started her car and drove off.

Jack's face twitched. To finish the task Logan had given him, he had no choice but to chase down the bins as they were carted away.

...

At Whitfield Group, Jack stormed into Logan's office, clutching a suit he'd wrestled back from scavengers.

Everything Vivian had tossed was expensive. The scavengers went at it like a feeding frenzy.

During the scramble, someone's elbow had caught him right near the eye. The swelling was so bad that the skin around it had turned red and puffy.

"Mr. Whitfield..."

Jack looked at Logan and Sloane, their heads nearly pressed together inside the office, and resentment bubbled up.

Logan was the one who caused it, but Jack ended up paying for it.

Hearing him, Logan, who had been walking Sloane through project details, looked up. When he saw how disheveled Jack was, he paused.

"Vivian hit you?" he asked.

Sloane looked surprised, then gave Jack a faintly sympathetic look.

In Sloane's eyes, Vivian was unhinged. She had thrown coffee on her at the bridal boutique for no reason.

Jack drew a slow breath, keeping it to himself. He almost wished Vivian had been the one to hit him.

Before he worked for Logan, he'd been Vivian's assistant.

Half a year ago, when Vivian's health had taken a turn, he'd been reassigned to Logan.

Over these six months, he'd watched Logan and Sloane become what they were now.

Jack felt guilty for hiding it from Vivian. She had hired him first, after all.

"No," Jack said. "I bumped into something."

A flicker of disappointment crossed Sloane's eyes, but she had enough sense not to say anything.

Logan gave a small nod and kept it brief. "Be careful."

Jack hesitated, wondering if he should tell Logan what he had seen.

Before he could decide, several clothing brand representatives walked in carrying formalwear. They lined up in a row, presenting the latest custom pieces in front of Logan and Sloane.

Sloane's disappointment instantly turned into delight.

Logan seemed pleased by her reaction. He raised a brow, amusement in his dark eyes. "Pick one. You're coming with me to a banquet tonight."

Sloane's eyes shone as she looked at him with open adoration. "Really? Can I?"

Logan lifted a hand and patted her head. "Yes, you can."

With his approval, Sloane stood and began choosing the gown.

Whatever Jack had been about to say, he swallowed back down. He left Logan's office without a word.

...

That night, Vivian's best friend, Vanessa Carver, who specialized in corporate mergers and acquisitions brokerage, invited her to an auction banquet.

Vivian happened to want Vanessa's opinion on what her Whitfield Group shares were worth. She planned to sell every share she held in Whitfield Group.

Vanessa was an expert in this field. If Vivian let her handle it, she could get far more than if she tried to sell them on her own.

When Vivian arrived at the venue, she headed straight to the private room Vanessa had indicated on the second floor.

She opened the door and saw Vanessa sitting alone, her expression dark.

"Who pissed you off—"

Before Vivian could finish, voices carried in from the private room next door. The soundproofing in the auction suites wasn't good.

"Logan, you really have life figured out. You're getting married next month, and you've still got Ms. Mercer by your side. She's gentle and sweet, and she's even willing to stay with you without asking for a title.

"That doesn't surprise me at all. What I'm curious about is how you manage things at home with your fiancee. You'll have to teach me a few tricks."

Logan didn't answer. Plenty of people around him were eager to flatter.

"Even if Logan wanted to teach you, you don't have his charm. Vivian's crazy about him. She's terrified he'll leave her, so how would she dare make a scene?"

"A real man should be like Logan. The household runs smoothly, and he still gets to play around."

Vanessa's face burned with fury. She shot to her feet.

Vivian reached out to hold her back. The sudden movement tugged her skirt, sending a cup clinking sharply off the table.

From next door, Logan's low voice cut in. "Enough. Focus on the auction."

Vanessa was shaking with anger. Seeing how calm Vivian looked, she understood Vivian had known all along. Her face hardened. "You're just going to take it?"

Vivian answered slowly, her voice loud enough for the next room to hear. "Everyone hits moments in life that feel like stepping in shit. If I don't clean it up and move on, am I supposed to announce to the world that I stepped in it?"

The private room next door went silent.

The air in both rooms went dead still.

Chapter 6

The auction suites were separated by movable partitions.

The people who came were either wealthy, well-connected, or spending money here in search of an opportunity.

The organizers were happy to accommodate that. As long as both sides agreed, all it took was unlocking the latch to slide the partition aside.

After a stretch of silence, someone next door knocked on the panel.

Vivian didn't intend to respond.

Vanessa stood, undid the latch, and pulled the partition open just a crack.

Vivian lifted a brow and looked over, her gaze colliding with Logan's deep-set eyes in the narrow opening.

Annoyance sat in his features, his expression dark.

Vivian raised her brow again. There wasn't much emotion on her face, as if she were looking at a stranger. She calmly looked away as she said to Vanessa, "Are you going to sit down and watch the auction or not?"

Vanessa grinned, clearly in a great mood. "I was just curious what kind of shit had people scrambling to step on it."

Vanessa had grown up with Vivian. Years ago, when she found out Vivian had stayed in Baymoor for a man instead of going back to Durmont, she cut Vivian off in a fit of anger.

Later, they made up. Vanessa had never had any interest in meeting Logan. So, this was the first time she had ever laid eyes on him.

Vivian didn't respond. Vanessa's comment included her too, apparently.

Logan's face was grim as he stared at Vivian. He stepped forward as if he meant to come over.

Vanessa let out a cold laugh and lifted a hand to block him. The bodyguard, standing in the shadows of the suite, moved up to her side.

"This suite is mine. It's not a place where any filthy thing can wander in."

Logan's expression tightened. His eyes locked onto the striking figure seated inside.

"Vivian, come here."

Vivian curved her lips and spoke lightly. "If I go over, your delicate side piece won't be able to keep fluttering. I'd rather not ruin your fun."

Sloane's face went white in an instant. She sat stiffly, frozen in place.

Logan didn't look any better. He kept his eyes on Vivian, his face set.

Vanessa signaled for the bodyguard to close the partition, but Logan lifted a hand and held it in place.

The air turned sharp with tension.

Logan stared at Vivian. "Are you sure you're not coming over?"

It was the warning sign before his temper snapped.

Vivian nodded. "I'm sure."

She used to soothe him because she didn't want him angry. It wore away at what they had between them. Now, even if he dropped dead in front of her, she wouldn't blink.

"Mrs. Whitfield, we were just joking earlier. You and Mr. Whitfield are about to get married, so how could he..."

The man who had been meekly asking Logan a moment ago how to keep two women peaceful started scrambling to smooth things over.

Vanessa cut him off immediately. "Shut your damn mouth! Stop spewing garbage! Vivian isn't married yet, so don't you dare tie her to that piece of trash!"

Her voice carried, and the surrounding suites went quiet.

The man's expression stiffened, but with Vanessa's bodyguard beside her, he didn't dare argue.

He had noticed the insignia on those bodyguards the moment he walked in. They were from one of the top private security teams in the country. It would cost seven figures to hire them. Unless they came from a powerful family, no one could afford protection like that.

Wasn't Vivian supposed to be from an ordinary family who built a company from nothing with Logan? How did she know someone like this? And why did they seem close?

The others who had been ready to chime in chose silence instead.

Sloane stood up with reddened eyes, her expression twisted like she'd suffered some great humiliation.

"Mr. Whitfield, don't fight with Ms. Hartwell because of me and let everyone laugh at you. This is my fault. I shouldn't be here. I'll leave right now."

Logan frowned, and the hand bracing the partition loosened slightly.

Vivian rose from her seat.

Logan's expression softened at once. He knew it. Vivian would never let him lose face in public. Since he didn't want her to feel uncomfortable, he would let Sloane leave.

But Vivian only walked up to him and grabbed the partition. She slid it shut and locked it cleanly, cutting off his view.

"Vivian!" His furious voice came from next door.

Vivian's expression stayed calm as she returned to her chair.

Vanessa followed and sat down too, looking thoroughly satisfied.

"I thought you were going to go over there."

Vivian's expression remained calm as she watched the auction stage. "Do I look like someone who's that pathetic?"

Noticing the slump in her mood, Vanessa leaned in, hooked an arm around her, and pressed her cheek against Vivian's. "Of course not. At most, you were blind for a few years."

Vivian was speechless.

The auction was only minutes from starting, and the noise next door still hadn't died down.

Sloane sniffled softly. "It's all my fault. I'm the one who made Mr. Whitfield and Ms. Hartwell argue. I should go apologize to Ms. Hartwell in person and explain that there's nothing between Mr. Whitfield and me."

No one else dared speak. Only Logan answered coldly. "No need."

The auction moved into its preview segment.

Now and then, Sloane's quiet crying carried through.

In the end, a representative from the organizers knocked on Logan's suite.

"Mr. Whitfield, some guests have complained that your suite is too loud. It's affecting their viewing. Please keep it down with your friends. We wish everyone luck in winning the items you like."

Logan's expression darkened.

Sloane sat rigidly. Vivian's humiliation had left her too scared to speak, but now, even a low-level staffer dared to warn them.

Anger flared up inside her. "It's not like our suite is the only one making noise!"

Someone echoed her. "That guy's probably using this as an excuse to climb up and meet Mr. Whitfield. Fine, we'll give him the chance. Tell him Mr. Whitfield will pay for his suite, as long as he comes over and apologizes in person. Then, we'll call it even."

Upon hearing that, Vivian couldn't help frowning.

Logan said nothing. Ever since Whitfield Group went public, people like this had gathered around him in droves.

Arrogance always planted the seeds of its own trouble.

The organizer's representative tried to smooth things over a few more times before finally excusing himself and leaving.

Logan stayed rational enough that no further commotion came from his room. He simply changed tactics and started targeting Vivian and Vanessa instead. Every time they raised a paddle, he raised one too and drove the price up.

Several times, items Vivian had bid on ended up going to Logan.

He seemed to enjoy it. He even sent her a message to provoke her.

"What else do you like? I'll buy it all and give it to you."

Vivian replied, "I don't like a single piece of the trash you just bought."

Logan responded, "You did that on purpose?"

Vivian glanced at her phone and didn't reply. She lifted her paddle again.

This time, Logan didn't follow.

Vivian won the item she wanted.

The bracelet suited Camille perfectly. It would make a good gift to bring back to Durmont.

Logan sent another message. "You thought I'd follow again?"

Vivian replied, "Thank you for not following. I got the piece I wanted at a low price."

Logan didn't answer after that.

Vivian could already imagine how furious he must look.