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Olivia’s lips twitched, a mixture of exasperation and amusement threatening to break her composure. Conor’s shameless grin was infuriatingly charming, and for a moment, she almost laughed out loud.

Before she could react further, a small, pitiful voice piped up from behind them.

“Mommy… should take Daddy home,” Lily murmured, clutching Conor’s arm with innocent insistence.

Olivia froze, blinking at the sight of the little girl’s earnest expression.

Speechless, she gave a sharp sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Fine,” she muttered finally, her voice tinged with reluctant resignation. “You’re lucky. Come home with me. I have an important task for you—pretend to be my husband.”

Nick, standing beside the car, froze. His eyes widened in shock.

Conor merely tilted his head, smiling calmly, and followed Olivia.

After a few steps, he glanced back at Nick. “Nick, your ride should be here, right? I’ll go home with my wife first—we’ll meet later.”

Nick’s mouth opened, then closed again. He wanted to protest, to insist on staying with Conor, but the King of the Gods’ warning gaze made his spine stiffen.

He backed down silently, melting into the bustling crowd. Circling through the chaos, he made his way toward the noisiest area—the DragonTech motorcade—and approached the lead car with careful precision.

Outside, the DragonTech motorcade had stopped, and the crowd’s excitement was palpable.

John and Emma were already approaching the uniformed staff, trying to strike up a conversation.

“Excuse me,” John said, voice loud, forcing authority. “We’re here for VIP reception. Can you guide us?”

The lead staff member, a tall, stern woman, barely glanced at them. “Sir, the VIP has already arrived. Step aside, please.”

Emma’s fake smile faltered. “We… we just wanted to—”

Nick, masked and in sunglasses, slipped silently behind them, eyes sharp.

“Shit," he thought, “if they recognize me, Master Conor’s cover is blown."

He maneuvered between John and the staff, careful not to draw attention.

“Hey! Watch where you’re shoving!” John barked, clearly annoyed.

Nick ignored him entirely, sliding open the door of a waiting car with fluid precision and dropping inside. He exhaled silently.

Piece of cake. Let’s see how long they last before realizing who they just messed with.

John’s face went instantly pale. “Oh no… oh no, oh no, oh no…” he muttered under his breath. “I just… insulted… the VIP DragonTech came to receive…”

Emma leaned close, whispering nervously, “Nobody knows you… if we leave quickly, everything will be fine.”

John’s hands shook. “This can’t be happening!”

Meanwhile,

The hum of the car engine was the only sound for a moment, broken only by the faint breathing of Lily, fast asleep in her car seat.

Conor stole a glance at the child, her small face relaxed in innocence, and felt a pang of something he couldn’t quite name.

Olivia’s hands gripped the steering wheel with tension.

“After that night… I became pregnant,” she said finally, her voice steady but quiet. “I didn’t tell anyone you were involved. I needed to protect Lily—from nosy relatives, from my parents, from everyone who might pry.”

Conor’s heart tightened. “You… you carried her alone?”

“Yes.” Olivia’s gaze flicked to him, sharp but not unkind. “I told everyone you were some successful businessman traveling frequently. It… stopped people from bothering me. It stopped them from asking questions, from interfering.”

Conor felt the weight of his guilt press down on him like never before. “This… this is my fault. I should have—”

“You should have done a lot of things,” Olivia said dryly, rolling her eyes. “But for now, just… play the part. Pretend to be my husband. That’s all I need.”

Conor exhaled, running a hand over his face. “Make it right… I’ll make it right, Olivia. I’ll fix this. I won’t let anyone hurt Lily, not ever.”

Olivia’s lips twitched, a mix of exasperation and amusement. “Make it right? Conor… the Nelson family fortune is tens of millions. I don’t need you to fix anything yet. Just pretend you’re my husband for a while. When the time is right, I’ll announce the divorce. But until then… act like a successful man.”

Conor spread his hands, looking both incredulous and frustrated. “I don’t need to pretend. I am successful.”

Olivia chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Exactly. Keep that confidence, Conor. That’s all I ask.”

He opened his mouth to argue, to protest that no one ever seemed to believe him when he spoke the truth, but Olivia was already glancing at the road ahead, signaling him to let it go.

The cityscape of Golden Sparrow City blurred past them as Olivia navigated the quiet streets toward the Nelson family mansion.

Conor studied her silently, the careful balance of elegance and authority in her posture both impressive and infuriating.

“Remember,” Olivia said, voice firm, “stay in character. Don’t embarrass me in front of anyone, not for even a second.”

Conor smiled, the corners of his mouth curling into that calm, teasing expression that had already started to get under her skin. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

As they approached the mansion, the gates swung open to reveal the grandeur of the Nelson estate.

A tall man, impeccably dressed with a sunny, welcoming smile, stood at the entrance. He waved as Olivia drove up.

Olivia’s expression hardened, her lips twisting into a subtle sneer. “What are you doing here?”

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  • 30

    Conor didn’t look at them again. Not Ronan. Not Emma. They were no longer worth his attention. He turned. And walked away. Just like that. Leaving them behind. — The hallway was dim and silent. The destruction stretched further than the entrance—doors ajar, walls scuffed, traces of force everywhere. Conor moved through it without hesitation. His eyes were scanning and his mind was calculating. Then— A faint sound. A weak, uneven breath. Conor’s steps stopped. He turned his head slightly. There. Near the side corridor— A figure slumped against the wall. A housemaid. Bruised. Clothes disheveled. Barely conscious. Conor closed the distance in two strides and crouched down. “Hey.” No response. Her head lolled slightly. He reached out, steady but firm, tapping her cheek lightly. “Stay with me.” A weak groan escaped her lips. Her eyelids fluttered. “…M-ma’am…” she mumbled instinctively. Conor’s voice cut in, controlled. “Lo

  • 29

    Ronan choked, face already turning red, veins bulging as he struggled to breathe. “Y—you—” he wheezed, panic finally breaking through. Conor’s grip tightened. Just slightly. Ronan’s body jerked. A strangled sound tore from his throat. Emma rushed forward instinctively, hands shaking. “Stop—stop, please! You’ll kill him!” Conor didn’t even look at her. He didn’t blink. His voice dropped further and dead calm. “She is my daughter.” Conor’s grip didn’t loosen. If anything— It tightened just enough to remind Ronan exactly how fragile his life was in that moment. Ronan’s legs kicked weakly in the air, his face turning an ugly shade of red, breath coming in broken, strangled attempts. Conor’s gaze never wavered. Cold and unforgiving. “If you weren’t Olivia’s grandfather,” he said quietly, each word landing like a verdict, “you’d already be in hell repenting for what you just said.” Ronan’s eyes bulged slightly. His hands clawed desperately at Conor’s wr

  • 28

    His hands were trembling as he looked at the empty space. “This is Olivia’s fault,” he spat suddenly. “That woman—she brought this curse into our home!” Emma was as furious as Ronan. “Exactly, grandpa! She always ruins things!” Ronan turned sharply, eyes wild now. “And that man—Conor!” he snarled. “Who does he think he is? Acting high and mighty, provoking powerful families—this is what happens when fools play heroes!” He kicked a broken chair. “They’ve dragged us into this mess! They’ve ruined everything!” His gaze suddenly snapped toward a display case near the wall—shattered. Ronan rushed over, shoving aside splintered wood and broken glass with frantic hands. “No… no—where is it?!” He dropped to his knees, searching desperately through the debris. Then he saw it. Nothing. The velvet slot where it once rested was empty. “My watch…” his voice trembled, then broke into fury. “My $100,000 diamond watch—gone!” His face twisted with rage, veins standing out

  • 27

    The sound came first. Distant at first—then rapidly growing louder. WHUP—WHUP—WHUP— Helicopters. Multiple. The night air above the parking lot shifted as searchlights cut through the dim sky, sweeping across buildings and roads like searching eyes. Within minutes, black vehicles screeched into the area. Doors opened. Men in tactical uniforms stepped out quickly and professionally. “Secure the perimeter!” “Medical team, over here—now!” “Move! Move!” The store staff stood frozen near the entrance, overwhelmed. One of them stammered, “W-what is going on…?” No one answered him. Because the focus was inside the car. Conor had Olivia in his arms, carefully supporting her upright as she remained unconscious, her head slightly tilted, breathing shallow but stable. A medic rushed forward. “Sir—let us take her.” Conor didn’t move immediately. His eyes were still on her face. “…She fainted from shock,” the lead medic said quickly after checking her pulse

  • 26

    Another channel opened. Rapid reports. Satellite uplinks. Traffic anomalies. Security breaches. Nick scanned them like a man reading a death sentence in real time. And for the first time in a long while— He felt something close to fear. Not for himself. But for everyone else. Because he knew Conor wasn’t just angry. Conor was quiet. And in Nick’s experience, that version of him— was the one right before everything burned, many people may die tonight. Nick barely had time to register the flood of incoming commands before Conor’s voice cut back in—calm, controlled, but now edged with something far more dangerous than anger. “No.” Nick froze. Conor continued, each word precise. “Send people to the store immediately. Take Olivia to the hospital.” A brief pause. Then— His tone dropped even further. “Then find where my daughter has been taken.” Nick’s throat tightened slightly as he nodded, even though Conor couldn’t see him. “Yes, king. Already depl

  • 25

    Olivia’s voice shook. “She’s a child.” “I’m aware.” Another casual breath. “That’s why this is unfortunate.” A beat. Then— “Consider this the price for offending Titan Group.” Silence. The words hung in the car. Conor’s face went completely still. The voice on the phone didn’t stop. If anything, it sounded more entertained now. “You people really don’t learn, do you?” the man said lazily, like he was discussing something trivial. “Debt always gets collected one way or another.” Olivia’s breathing hitched again, shallow and broken. Conor’s jaw tightened so hard it looked like it might crack. On the line, the man chuckled. “And since Madam Olivia here is so… principled,” he continued, “refusing to cooperate, refusing to settle things properly, to sell herself to repay the debt—” A pause. Then, colder. “We’ll simply recover what’s owed in other ways.” Olivia’s voice came out barely audible. “…What are you talking about?” The man exhaled, almost

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