Chapter 3

I could not help speaking.

“Julian?”

“Yes?”

“The press conference went smoothly today. Once the funding arrives and production resumes, Zinnia should stabilize.”

He placed the bowl of noodles in front of me.

“We still need to watch your uncle.”

“I know.”

I paused.

“But once the company stabilizes, there’s no need for us to keep living together.”

His hand stopped beside the bowl.

I stared at the number above him and continued.

“The engagement can also end. You help me get through this crisis, I repay according to the agreement, and then we owe each other nothing.”

Nine days flickered.

Six days.

I sat up sharply.

There had been no argument.

No betrayal.

Not even a harsh tone.

Just that one sentence, and the number above him had dropped by three days.

Julian withdrew his hand.

“All right,” he said quietly. “When the time comes, we’ll follow your arrangement.”

I looked at him.

What I wanted to ask had nothing to do with the engagement.

The numbers, apparently, did not simply decrease day by day.

When he stood by me, the date grew.

But when I said we owed each other nothing, it fell.

I did not understand what Julian’s countdown was measuring.

“The noodles will get cold,” Julian reminded me.

I lowered my head and picked up my chopsticks.

Then a sudden cramp twisted through my stomach.

I had been busy checking documents for the press conference that afternoon and had skipped lunch.

I hadn’t felt it earlier, but now the pain surged up all at once, making me curl forward.

My chopsticks hit the edge of the table and fell.

Julian immediately crouched beside me.

“Stomach pain?”

I nodded, pressing my fingers against my upper abdomen.

He stood and quickly went into the bedroom.

When he returned, he was holding the stomach medication I always took.

He placed warm water beside me and had already separated the exact dose I usually needed.

“Take this first. Rest for a while. If it gets worse, we’ll go to the hospital.”

The movements were so practiced that it was as though he had done them many times before.

I took the pills.

Before I could speak, he frowned and said, “You used to forget meals all the time.”

I looked up.

“Used to?”

Julian’s hand froze in midair.

I endured the pain and slowly tightened my grip around the glass.

“Julian Shaw, did we know each other before?”

“Did we know each other before?”

I stared at him, almost forgetting the ache in my stomach.

He pushed the water closer.

“I read your medical report. It mentioned long-term irregular eating.”

The explanation barely held.

It was not unusual to review a fiancée’s health status before an engagement.

I still wanted to press him, but another spasm twisted through my stomach.

Julian steadied my arm.

“Take the medicine first. Ask whatever you want once it stops hurting.”

By the time I recovered, he had gone to the guest room to take a call.

The question of why he knew me so well was left unresolved.

Three days later, there was a problem at Zinnia’s new collection preview.

Two hours before the media arrived, the designer in charge of the setup called me.

“Ms. Hart, something is wrong with the lily-of-the-valley pieces.”

When I arrived at the exhibition hall, she was standing in front of the glass display case with a magnifying lens in her hand, her face pale.

The lily-of-the-valley brooch my mother had left behind was the centerpiece of the preview.

The piece now lying on the velvet cushion looked almost identical from a distance, but the inner petals did not carry Zinnia’s signature craftsmanship marks.

The main stone was fake too.

I ordered the team to check everything.

All six key pieces had been switched.

On the media list were several major jewelry industry publications.

If the counterfeit pieces appeared on display, the financing confidence Zinnia had just rebuilt would collapse.

“Do not make this public yet,” I said, taking a deep breath.

“Seal the cases. Preserve the surveillance footage and transfer records. Everyone stays in place.”

The designer nodded, eyes red.

I stepped into the hallway and called the head of security.

My fingers trembled so badly that I pressed the wrong number several times.

At that exact moment, Julian called.

“How is the preview preparation going?”

I was silent for two seconds.

“The pieces were switched.”