Two months passed in what felt like a blink.The wedding date had been fixed—quietly, decisively—and it now stood only seven days away. Despite the magnitude of the event, there were no billboards, no public announcements, no social spectacle. At Elsa’s request, it would be intimate. Private. Shielded from the world.Did people know that Levi Hale was engaged? Yes.Did anyone know who the woman was? No.Her identity remained carefully guarded, and the mystery only fueled speculation. Business blogs whispered about alliances. Social columns theorized about heiresses. Rival families tried to connect dots that did not exist.Meanwhile, Elsa’s reputation as a surgeon continued to rise. Under the mentorship of Patrick and with Leonard Hale’s remarkable recovery as silent proof of her skill, her name circulated in medical circles with increasing respect. Many knew of Doctor Snow, but they didn't link it was she. She was still monitoring Leonard’s progress personally—a fact that only deepene

By the time the priest pronounced them husband and wife and the final cheers softened into laughter, evening had begun its quiet descent over the Hale estate. The golden hue of late afternoon melted into amber, then into the gentle blue of approaching night. Staff moved seamlessly, guiding guests toward the opposite side of the backyard where the reception awaited.If the ceremony had been ethereal, the reception was warmth brought to life.Long wooden tables stretched elegantly across the open lawn, arranged beneath the vast evening sky. They were rustic yet refined — polished surfaces reflecting the soft flicker of candlelight. Lush floral arrangements ran down the center of each table, greenery cascading naturally over the edges as though it had grown there on its own. Soft blush roses, cream peonies, and pale pastel blossoms were intertwined with eucalyptus and ivy, creating an organic, flowing centerpiece that felt intimate rather than extravagant.Above, strings of delicate ligh

The next day, Tommy—who was meant to meet Claire—never showed up. Instead, he decided to spend the money he had been holding onto.As he descended the motel stairs, he paused at the reception desk.“You said my payment’s due in two days, right?” he asked casually.“Actually, that’s tomorrow, sir,” the receptionist corrected with a polite smile.Tommy nodded, pulled out a thick fold of cash, counted it carefully, and dropped it on the counter.“I’ll be staying a few more weeks… though I doubt I’ll last that long,” he muttered with a private grin.The receptionist happily collected the money. “We’re glad you’re enjoying your stay, sir.” He registered the payment and handed over a receipt. “Here you go.”Tommy snatched it and strolled out.Meanwhile, after failing to reach Tommy, Claire decided he could wait. Levi was her priority now.She held onto her pride all weekend, expecting Levi to call first. But when the new week began and her phone remained silent, her composure crumbled. Swal

That evening, Kaitlin Hale attended an exclusive dinner party hosted by Wayne Industries—more specifically, by the proud mother of its newly appointed CEO.The event was everything one would expect from women who had spent decades seated at the very top of society: polished marble floors, crystal chandeliers dripping from high ceilings, violins humming softly in the background, and champagne poured as though it were water. Conversations were coated in perfume and subtle competition.As Kaitlin stood near a tall arrangement of white orchids, three elegantly dressed women approached her with familiar smiles.“Kaitlin, darling!” one of them called out warmly.“Amelia! Karen! Agatha!” Kaitlin beamed.They greeted one another with gentle air kisses, laughter blending effortlessly into the music.“It’s been far too long,” Kaitlin said, taking Amelia’s hands affectionately.“Oh honey,” Karen sighed dramatically, “life has been chaos. I can’t remember the last time we had a proper ladies’ gat

Tommy sat hunched at the edge of the narrow motel bed, elbows on his knees, palms pressed hard against his temples as if he could physically squeeze a solution out of his skull. The room smelled faintly of stale smoke and cheap cologne — remnants of nights that blurred together in reckless repetition. The peeling wallpaper, the flickering ceiling light, the humming air conditioner that barely worked — all of it felt like mockery.Ever since Elsa had handed him that money, he had lived as if consequences did not exist.Day after day, night after night, he had drifted through neon-lit clubs, drowning himself in music, liquor, and temporary company. Different women. Different perfumes. Different laughter echoing in the dark. Each night felt like proof he was still somebody. Each morning proved the opposite.Back in Northwood, that amount of money would have lasted months — enough to keep him comfortable, admired, envied even. But this city swallowed money whole. Here, status mattered. In