Chapter 4

The servant walking me back to my room moved with quiet, measured steps. As we passed the study, I caught the sound of hushed voices inside:

“…The master’s heart rate showed some odd fluctuations today…”

“…The monitoring equipment shows no malfunction—perhaps it’s environmental stimulation…”

Adrian Bennett’s bedroom was enormous, almost oppressively spacious, and heavy with the inescapable scent of disinfectant.

He lay in a massive, custom-made hospital bed, hooked up to several machines that beeped in slow, monotonous intervals, their indicator lights flickering dimly in the dark.

His eyes remained closed, his breathing faint and drawn-out.

I—Bennett family’s freshly minted “young madam”—sat far from the bed, at a wide desk by the window.

The cumbersome wedding gown was long gone, tossed carelessly onto the expensive carpet in the corner.

I wore a plain cotton nightdress, bare feet pressed against the cold floor.

The desk was stacked high with documents like miniature mountains.

The topmost bore bold black characters on its cover: Confidential Risk Assessment Report on Collins Group’s Short-Term Debt Default and Asset Freeze.

Scattered beside it were several unfolded financial statements, each page crammed with alarming figures—blood-red deficits and arrows plunging sharply downward.

Another file lay open—Equity Pledge Risk Notification—bearing Richard Collins’s bold, sweeping signature.

The vacant, empty expression of “foolish Anna” that I had worn all day was gone, replaced by a cold, near-clinical focus.

My gaze, sharp as an ice pick, skimmed line after line of chilling text while my fingers flew over the calculator.

Plan after plan formed in my mind, only to be dismissed.

The traps Richard had laid over the years, the evidence of Emily and Jason’s collusion to bleed the company dry, the exploitable depths of the Bennett family’s waters…

Suddenly, from the corridor, came the sharp, staccato clack of high heels on marble—growing nearer—paired with a man’s furious shouting and a woman’s piercing sobs.

“Anna! Anna! Open the door! I know you’re in there! Come out! Get out here!”

It was Emily’s voice, sharpened to a shrill pitch.

“Anna! Mrs. Bennett! Please! For old times’ sake, save the Collins family! Save us!”

Jason’s voice was hoarse, thick with tears, his pounding on the door thunderous.

“Only you can help us! Old Mr. Bennett only listens to you! Please, open the door!”

They’d managed to get in here? The Collins ship was sinking faster—and more completely—than I’d anticipated.

Even the Bennett family’s outer security couldn’t keep out these desperate, cornered lovers.

On the bed, Adrian’s brows twitched almost imperceptibly, disturbed by the racket.

On the monitor, the heart-rate line gave a small, uneasy spike.

With a soft click, I set my pen down on the open document.

The tiny sound carried a strange, final weight.

I lifted my head slowly.

My face held no expression—no anger, no alarm, not even the faintest irritation at being disturbed.

Only a fathomless calm.

But my eyes, in that instant, gleamed with a piercing clarity, as though all dust had been swept away, reflecting the cold city lights outside without a trace of the confusion or dullness they had once held.

I rose to my feet, bare soles silent on the cold floor, and walked toward the door.

The pounding and wailing outside continued unabated.

One step from the door, I stopped.

My gaze traced the delicate carvings on the wood, as if I could see straight through to the two faces beyond—twisted by fear and greed.

Then I spoke.

My voice was low, touched with the rasp of someone who had worked through a long day, but each word fell with the weight of a hammer:

“You’re disturbing my husband’s rest.”

All sound beyond the door died instantly, as if gripped by an invisible hand.

Without pause, my voice fell like an icy verdict:

“Get out.”