The hands of the clock had just struck twelve. Outside, the rain fell in torrents, hammering violently against the windows. In the living room, a man's voice cut through the noise, cold and absolute. "Sign the divorce papers. I'll give you a hundred million dollars in alimony as compensation." Samira Harper looked up at her husband timidly. "What did I do wrong this time, Damian?" Around this man, she had always been humble and docile, acting more like a servant than a wife. "Bianca is back, and she doesn't want to see you. It's time to end this marriage. You need to leave!" Damian Ashford stated coldly. He crossed his long legs, settling calmly back into the sofa. His face was as flawless as a Greek sculpture, but his expression remained completely impassive. Samira's pale lips trembled, a chill washing over her as if she'd been plunged into icy water. She stared at him in shock. "You want a divorce just because Bia is back? Was our marriage nothing but a joke to you?" "You were never the one I wanted to marry. Two years ago, you drove Bia away with your scheming. Now that she's back, I won't make the same mistake twice. So hurry up and sign the papers. A hundred million dollars for two years of your miserable existence—you should consider it a godsend." Damian always knew exactly which words would cut her the deepest. "And if... if I refuse to sign?" Samira asked bitterly. "Suit yourself. I have more than enough ways to make you disappear. Legal or otherwise, no one would even notice." Damian was the heir to the wealthiest family in Silvercrest. He had always been free to do whatever he pleased. No one had the courage to stand in his way. Two years ago, the Harpers had arranged a marriage alliance with the Ashford family. But during the engagement banquet for Damian and Samira's half-sister, Bianca, Damian had been drugged. Later, finding Samira in a lounge, he mistook her for Bianca. They ended up spending the night together. The very next day, the affair sparked a massive scandal. News that the eldest Harper daughter had slept with her future brother-in-law splashed across the front pages. Following the fallout, Bianca's mental health deteriorated rapidly. She was sent to a treatment facility abroad to recover. Overnight, Samira was branded a brazen slut. People pointed fingers, accusing her of willingly seducing her sister's fiancé. Damian hated her more than anyone. He was convinced Samira had drugged him just to slip into his bed. Still, the Harpers and Ashfords had been allies for generations. The union was meant to cement their ties. Because of this, Raymond Harper and Catherine Ashford—Samira's grandfather and Damian's grandmother—insisted that Damian marry Samira instead. The two years of marriage that followed were a living hell for her. Her patience, her tolerance, and all the deep affection she held for Damian changed absolutely nothing. If anything, it only brought her more humiliation and pain. Now, she was completely exhausted, both mentally and physically. So what did it matter if Damian wanted a divorce? She had finally had enough, too. "Fine, I'll sign the papers. But I have one request." "Spit it out." Damian was certain she was going to ask for more money. After all, money was the only thing that mattered to a calculating woman like her. "For once, I want you to sleep with me like a real lover. For two years, every time you touched me, you called out Bianca's name. You made me feel like the worst woman in the world, and I've had enough! I am your wife. For the last time we sleep together, I want you to say my name. I am Samira, not Bianca!" For the first time, Samira screamed at him, her voice bordering on hysterical. Her entire body shook with anger. For two years, whenever they shared a bed, Damian deliberately called out the wrong name. He only slept with her to punish and humiliate her. There was absolutely no love between them. "Cut the nonsense. Someone is waiting for me downstairs..." A bitter laugh escaped Samira's lips. The person waiting for him downstairs had to be Bianca. "She can wait a little longer. She's already waited two years; I suppose she can wait a few more minutes. Accept my request or refuse it, suit yourself. I don't mind if the media publishes a few more articles about me." Damian hated being threatened more than anything. His lips curled into a contemptuous sneer. He remained silent for a few seconds before replying. "Fine. I'll do it. But don't you dare regret this, Samira." He stood up abruptly, grabbed Samira by her blouse, and yanked her roughly against him. Then... Her stockings tore. He didn't even give her a moment to brace herself before the pain hit. "Ah!" Samira cried out, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain. Damian was as ruthless as ever—borderline cruel. He never cared whether his actions hurt her. Perhaps seeing her suffer even brought him a sick sense of satisfaction. Good. Very good. Samira would sear this moment into her memory. For the rest of her life, she would remember every ounce of cruelty this man had shown her. "Sam... Oh, Sam... Are you satisfied now?" Hovering over her, Damian finally said her name. Even though the moment was utterly humiliating, Samira could finally let go of the deep sorrow that had tormented her for two whole years. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she declared in a broken voice, "Damian Ashford! I will never love you again!" Damian heard her perfectly, but he chose to ignore it. He grabbed her jaw with contempt, staring down at her with a sneer. She was... beautiful. The woman possessed such a stunning, innocent face, yet her mind was filled with filth and schemes. It was exactly why the so-called love she claimed to feel for him only disgusted him. "Sign the divorce papers, take the money, and leave Silvercrest forever." Tossing those final words at her, Damian strode out of the room without looking back. He left Samira on the floor, her hair and clothes in complete disarray. Two months later... At the hospital. "Congratulations, Ms. Harper, you are pregnant with multiples. However, I strongly recommend a fetal reduction of one or two. Otherwise, the risks to both you and the babies are simply too high." Give up her babies? No. She would never deprive any of her children of their right to live. These babies were hers, and hers alone. One way or another, she would bring them into this world and raise them right...

Four years later, inside the intensive care unit of a hospital, a doctor said, "I'm sorry. We've done everything we can, but Raymond's condition isn't improving. You should go in and say your goodbyes." Say goodbye to him! Victor Harper's brow furrowed in deep anxiety as he pressed the doctor. "Doctor, isn't there anything else you can try? If my father doesn't make it, the entirety of the Harper family's assets will be forfeited to the state... Damn it, what are we supposed to do? None of us have seen Samira in years. Neither has he! God knows what was going through his head. How could he ignore the grandsons who kept him company every single day, just to obsess over that wretched girl?" For days, a dark cloud of panic had hung over the Harper family. On his deathbed, Victor's father, Raymond, had drafted a bizarre will. He had left fifty-one percent of the Harper Group's shares to his eldest granddaughter, Samira. The rest of the family, meanwhile, was left to fight over a meager ten percent. In short, Samira was set to become the majority shareholder. But there was a catch. If Samira didn't return before Raymond took his last breath, all of the Harper family's assets would be surrendered to the state. Because of this, the family had spent the last few days tearing the city apart trying to find her. Despite their frantic efforts, she seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth. Ever since her divorce from Damian, there hadn't been a single sighting or word from her. "If you ask me, that girl is doing this to spite us! Who knows what rock she's been hiding under all these years!" Amelia Harper, Victor's second wife, spat the words, a furious twitch pulling at the corner of her mouth. Years ago, while pregnant with twins, she had successfully driven Samira and her mother out of the family. After later giving birth to her third child, Amelia had been certain her position in the Harper household was untouchable. She never imagined she'd end up with absolutely nothing. Even with her three children standing right in front of him, the old man still favored Samira. "Dad! Mom! Grandpa's awake!" Bianca Harper called out. The family surged into the hospital room. "Sam... My Samira..." Raymond had been comatose for over twelve days. He was running out of time. Even at death's door, his only concern was his eldest granddaughter. Her four-year disappearance had eaten away at him. He had even begun to suspect that Amelia had somehow orchestrated his beloved granddaughter's murder. "Raymond! Rick, Ryan, and Bianca are your grandchildren too, aren't they? This will is completely unfair! You're leaving them with next to nothing! They'll be begging on the streets if you actually let the state take everything!" Amelia snapped. Raymond painfully parted his dry lips. "Sam... Let me see Sam. As long as she isn't here, none of you will get a single cent..." "It's been four years, Raymond!" Amelia hissed in protest. "Who knows where she went? Besides, if she actually cared about you, wouldn't she have come to see you one last time?" A flash of impatience crossed Bianca's eyes. Unable to hold her tongue any longer, she whirled on Damian. "Damian, do you have any idea where my sister went?" Damian stood like a statue. He didn't have the answer to that either. Four years ago, right after their divorce, he had fully expected Samira to cling to him. At the very least, he thought she'd make a scene. Instead, to everyone's shock, she had packed up and left the very next day. She took nothing but her ID. She had even left behind the bank card tied to the account where Damian had deposited a hundred million dollars. For the next four years, there was absolute radio silence. And Damian's pride certainly wouldn't allow him to be the one to reach out first. Four whole years. Even now, Damian couldn't quite believe she had given up on him that easily. He had drafted countless plans to shake her off the second she showed her face again. In the end, they had all been useless. Samira had simply vanished from his world. "Sam... Sam!" Raymond wheezed again. "Oh no, Grandpa's crashing! Get the doctors, quick!" The frantic beeping of the ECG monitor signaled that Raymond's heart was giving out. Tears welling in their eyes, the family members crowded around his bed. Though, in truth, they were weeping less for the dying old man and more for the fortune about to slip into the government's hands. Click, clack, click... The sharp, rhythmic strike of high heels suddenly echoed down the hospital corridor. Click. The door to the hospital room swung open. A woman in a flawlessly tailored white suit stepped inside. She carried a limited-edition handbag, and oversized sunglasses obscured nearly her entire face. Her naturally long, slender legs were accentuated by the towering heels. She carried herself with an icy elegance that seemed to drop the temperature in the room by several degrees. "Who is that? Do we know her? Who let her in here?" "It's me. I'm here to see my grandfather." The woman slowly lowered her sunglasses before stepping toward the bed. "Samira!" A collective gasp of shock rippled through the family. She had changed drastically. In the past, Samira had worn her hair long and perfectly straight. Now, it was a rich, wavy brown. It used to reach her waist, but now... The curled ends bounced lightly around her shoulders. She had undergone a total metamorphosis. Gone was the meek, sweet girl next door; in her place stood a mature, striking, and fiercely ambitious businesswoman. Even more striking was her stunning figure, far more defined than before. But the naive innocence that used to shine in her eyes was completely gone. One look into her sharp gaze made it clear she had walked through fire over the last few years. "Samira? Oh, thank God, you're finally here! Our family would have been ruined if you hadn't shown up..." For the first time in their lives, the Harpers were genuinely thrilled to see her. She quickly closed the distance to the bed. "I'm sorry, Grandpa. Forgive me for being so late." "Sam..." Raymond wheezed, painfully forcing his eyes half-open. "I'm just glad to see you're safe and sound. What a relief..." With those words, he reached a trembling hand out toward her. But a second later, his arm dropped limply back onto the mattress. His head lolled to the side, and his eyes slid shut. BEEEEEP— The ECG monitor flatlined, letting out a single, continuous wail to announce Raymond's passing. "Grandpa? Grandpa!" Samira cried out, tears spilling down her cheeks. She knew he had been the only person in the entire Harper family who had ever truly cared about her. "Oh, spare us the crocodile tears! If you actually gave a damn about Grandpa, you would have come back ages ago! But the second it's time to claim the inheritance, you miraculously appear?" snapped Derick Harper, Victor's eldest son. His voice dripped with venomous sarcasm. Derick had never once treated Samira like an older sister. And now that she was the primary beneficiary of Raymond's estate, he despised her more than ever. "That's enough! Someone make the calls and start arranging the funeral!" Victor barked. Looking visibly weighed down by grief, he placed a hand on Samira's shoulder and gave it a gentle pat. "Sam, since you're back, you should come live at home!" "That's right, you should come back and stay with us!" Amelia chimed in cheerfully, though her lips twitched with poorly concealed disdain. "Besides, your grandfather wrote a will on his deathbed. He wanted you to inherit fifty-one percent of the Harper Group's shares. His illness must have clouded his judgment. How could he entrust such a massive corporation to a young girl who knows absolutely nothing about business? Sam, you're still young and naive. You really should just let your father continue running the company." Amelia spoke with the breezy authority of someone who assumed Samira would just roll over and obey. Deep down, she was convinced the girl was just as dim-witted as her mother had been. And once Samira was back under their roof, she would be entirely at her mercy. Samira, however, remained stone-faced. "I'm not discussing this right now," she replied, her voice ice-cold. "My only priority is taking care of Grandpa's funeral." "Yes, yes, of course you're right. Raymond's funeral is what matters most. Everything else can wait," Amelia said half-heartedly.

By late afternoon, the morgue staff arrived to collect Raymond's body. Samira walked out of the hospital alongside the rest of the family. "Where are you staying? My driver can take you," Damian offered. His voice was slightly hoarse. Since he'd arrived at the hospital, Samira hadn't spoken a single word to him. She offered him a polite, empty smile and held up her car keys. "Thank you, but I drove myself." Her indifference was palpable; she was treating him with the distant courtesy reserved for a complete stranger. Bianca, however, saw Damian's offer as an excuse to get closer to Samira. Her face darkened. Hurrying forward, she looped her arm affectionately through his and chimed in, "Sam, why don't you move back in with us? At least you wouldn't be all alone, and—" "A hotel is more convenient. Goodbye." With a brief wave, Samira turned and headed for the underground parking garage. Moments later, a silver Bentley emerged from the garage, gliding smoothly past the group still lingering near the hospital entrance. "Looks like my sister's been doing just fine all these years," Bianca sneered. "Living the high life without a dime of help from her family." Damian didn't reply. In the four years since Samira's disappearance, he hadn't married Bianca. There were several reasons, but the main one was simple—over time, he'd realized Bianca wasn't the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. If he hadn't broken up with her yet, it was mostly due to family ties. The Harpers were wealthy, but their fortune paled in comparison to the Ashfords'. Still, the elders of both families were close friends, and because of that, the Ashfords had always looked out for the Harpers. But there was another, far more important reason. Ten years ago, Damian had nearly drowned, and Bianca had saved his life. Since that day, he had sworn to protect and care for her until the end of his days. "Sam has always been ambitious, even as a little girl," Amelia declared. "She's smart, and she knows exactly how to charm men. Just look at those designer clothes and that car! She must have found herself a new rich backer. Unlike her, Bia, you're far too naive and innocent. Everyone just tries to take advantage of you." On the surface, it sounded like a compliment about Samira, but the venomous insinuation underneath was impossible to miss. "Mom, what are you talking about?" "Oh, I just want you to learn a thing or two from Sam. Look how well she's doing! Girls like her never become a burden to their families, no matter where they go. There are very few young women as resourceful as she is." Damian was starting to lose his patience. "Amelia, Bia, I need to go. I have an important meeting tonight." "Yes, of course. Drive safely, alright?" Amelia replied, flashing a fawning smile. She was terrified of offending the man she still considered her daughter's perfect future husband. Damian said nothing more. He turned, got into his car, and drove off. Bianca watched the vehicle until it disappeared from sight. Furious, she stamped her foot. "This is all your fault, Mom! You never should have put that bitch in Damian's bed six years ago. He hasn't brought up marrying me once since then. And now that Samira's back, what are we supposed to do?" Amelia gritted her teeth, her expression darkening. Her daughter's accusation hit the exact nerve she regretted the most. Six years ago, she had orchestrated what she thought was a flawless plan. She'd started by drugging Samira. Then, convinced Damian was too black-out drunk to actually do anything, she had sent the girl straight into his hotel room. After that, Amelia had tipped off the paparazzi. The goal was to run a scandalous headline about Samira willingly throwing herself at her future brother-in-law. Amelia had set the whole trap expecting the disgrace to force the Harper family into disinheriting Samira entirely. She never imagined the plan would blow up in her face. Damian had actually slept with her. From there, the situation had spiraled completely out of Amelia's control. Under heavy pressure from Raymond and Catherine, Damian was ultimately forced to marry Samira to save face. Pushing the bitter memories aside, Amelia snapped, "I did all of that for you, you little fool. Damn it, everything went wrong because of your grandfather! That old man always favored Samira. But now that he's dead, there is no one to back her up." "But, Mom..." Bianca chewed her lip, still anxious. Even though Damian had treated her well over the years, she hadn't missed the lingering coldness in his eyes. Ever since his divorce from Samira, the man rarely ever smiled. He had turned into a total workaholic. Sometimes Bianca had to wait two or three months just to catch a glimpse of him. "Don't worry. That idiot Samira is just as foolish as her late mother," Amelia soothed. "The most important thing right now is that we don't fall out with her. Not until she signs over her share of the inheritance..." Ten days later, Raymond's funeral took place. A light, dreary rain fell over Silvercrest. Every member of the Harper family had already arrived at the cemetery—except for Samira. Several of the city's most prominent figures were also in attendance to pay their final respects. A swarm of journalists had gathered outside the cemetery gates. Raymond Harper had been a titan in Silvercrest. It was only natural that his funeral drew a media circus. Whispers rippled through the crowd of attendees. "I heard Raymond left the Harper Group to the eldest granddaughter." "God, that woman is ruthless. Six years ago, she seduced her future brother-in-law and pushed her own sister out of the picture. Then she married into the Ashford family in her sister's place. And now she's taking over the Harper Group? You have to admit, it's impressive." "Ha! So what? She's still just a calculating snake. The Ashfords kicked her out in the end, didn't they? Women like that are disgusting." Amelia was secretly thrilled by the vicious gossip circulating through the crowd. Still, she forced her features into a mask of profound grief before stepping up to speak. "May I have your attention, please? First of all, I want to thank you all for being here today to honor Raymond, and—" "Mrs. Harper, is it true that Samira is taking over the Harper Group?" a journalist shouted, cutting her off. Amelia paused, adopting a pained expression before answering, "On such a painful day, I'd rather not be distracted by business matters. However, when it comes to a company as vital as the Harper Group, one man's decision isn't enough. The board of directors will need to convene to select the most competent person for the role of CEO." "Mrs. Harper, why isn't Samira here on such an important day?" "Well, that's a question you'll have to ask her..." Before Amelia could finish, the low, powerful roar of several engines echoed outside the cemetery gates. A sleek, elongated Rolls-Royce glided through the entrance, flanked by an entire fleet of black Mercedes. "Look at the license plate! That's Mr. Blackwood's car!" Frenzied, the journalists immediately abandoned Amelia and surged toward the Rolls-Royce. The car did, indeed, belong to Marcus Blackwood. In Silvercrest, two wealthy, high-profile young men stood above the rest: Damian Ashford and Marcus Blackwood. Marcus was the second son of Venturas City's most powerful casino magnate. He also ran Starlight Media, an entertainment empire that held the contracts of half the industry's rising stars. Unlike Damian, who preferred to keep a low profile, Marcus thrived in the spotlight. The doors of the Rolls-Royce opened slowly, and Marcus stepped out first. "It really is Mr. Blackwood!" The press swarmed the vehicle like sharks drawn to blood in the water. Ignoring the flashing cameras, Marcus walked around the back of the car to the opposite door. With the effortless courtesy of a true gentleman, he offered his hand, helping a woman dressed entirely in black step out into the rain. "Is that...? Oh my god, it's Samira Harper!" "You've got to be kidding! What is Mr. Blackwood doing with a woman like her?" But while the crowd was still trying to process the connection, two small figures climbed out of the car right behind her. They were both wearing tiny, impeccably tailored black suits. Two adorable little boys, looking no older than three or four. Their appearance dropped like a bombshell, instantly sending the entire cemetery into an uproar of shock and burning curiosity.