1

A week before their anniversary, Sydney prepared a surprise for her husband, Preston Rockefeller.

At the same time, she discovered that Preston had also booked a penthouse suite at a five-star hotel, complete with a drone show and fireworks. She was certain it was meant as a surprise for their anniversary, and her heart filled with joy.

Sydney clutched the pregnancy test stick, her heart brimming with anticipation.

However, on the day of their anniversary, she dressed carefully early in the morning and waited for Preston’s invitation.

But she waited all day, and nothing came. Instead, she spotted a familiar figure on Savannah’s Instagram post.

Savannah, wearing a shy expression, nestled in a man’s arms. Only half of his face was visible—but Sydney instantly recognized him as Preston.

Caption: Thank you, husband, for the anniversary surprise. I love it~

Sydney’s blood froze.

How… could this be possible?!

She rushed to the hotel lobby, her heart hammering.

Her phone buzzed mid-step.

A contact that had been inactive for five years flashed the message she feared most.

[Your husband’s cheating on you.]

Attached was a video.

The moment Sydney tapped play, the world spun out of control. Indeed, her husband was making out with another woman—Savannah.

The Preston Sydney knew was never like this—never so out of control. Yet in the video, hunger burned in his eyes, his hands roaming all over Savannah’s body.

She didn’t know how she ended up standing outside the penthouse suite door.

The door wasn’t fully closed. She saw the couple embracing on the couch. The last string in Sydney’s mind snapped.

In between panting, Savannah’s voice cut through.

“Honey… thanks to you tricking Sydney into signing the heart transfer, our son got the transplant. Poor Julien didn’t make it. Sydney didn’t throw a fit, right?”

What the hell did she just say?!Sydney’s ears rang. She couldn’t believe those words.

The next second, the familiar voice of her husband followed.

“She will never know that Julien’s heart was donated to our son, Chicago,” he reassured Savannah.

Savannah giggled. “I knew you loved me and Chicago the most. Today’s our third anniversary since we registered our marriage. You’re not going anywhere…”

Sydney bit her lip. Tears wet her face, her complexion pale as paper.

His words were like a blade dipped in arsenic, stirring through her heart, shredding flesh and bone, making her whole body tremble with pain.

The shock and grief crashed over her like a tornado.

Julien was also his son! How could he bear to watch him die?!

Three years ago, their son was born with congenital heart disease. The doctor said that without a transplant, he wouldn’t live past three.

She waited so long. Finally, before Julien’s third birthday, a suitable heart appeared, but the hospital suddenly canceled the surgery an hour before it began. The poor boy died on the cold operating table.

They said the donor changed their mind. Sydney was in agony but could only accept it.

Now she had just heard that Preston gave the heart to Savannah’s son. How could Sydney accept it?!

Savannah’s son only had arrhythmia and didn’t need a transplant. Sydney’s son, without that heart, could only die on the cold operating table!

Her nails dug into her palms, blood dripping from her fingertips, yet she felt no pain.

Her body seemed torn apart. The hotel’s air conditioning hummed, but she felt frozen to the core.

Just then, the memories of the past three years surged up.

No wonder. No wonder Preston had abandoned her and Julien for overseas business trips, sometimes lasting weeks. Chicago—Savannah’s child—was actually Preston’s son!

When did it start?

The first time—when she gave birth to Julien and hemorrhaged. The situation was critical and needed a family member’s consent. The hospital called Preston, but he didn’t answer. She gritted her teeth and signed the consent herself; only then did they operate.

The second time—Julien’s birthday, when they had planned to go to an amusement park as a family of three. She waited all evening with Julien, who cried himself to sleep. Preston never showed.

The third time—Julien suffered sudden cardiac arrest. Sydney called frantically outside the operating room. Preston’s assistant gave a brutal response.

“Mr. Rockefeller is in a meeting. Handle it yourself.”

She had always excused Preston’s absences, thinking he was busy with work.

It turned out that every single time, he had been with Savannah and their child!

Sydney’s lip split, blood filling her mouth. Her chest ached so fiercely she could barely breathe.

Her own husband had tricked her into signing the heart transfer agreement—forcing her to give up Julien’s only chance at life. How could Preston be so cruel?

The intimate sounds in the video kept scraping her nerves. Her stomach heaved; nausea rose to her core.

The man she had loved for three years had killed her son.

Sydney’s resolve hardened. She dialed a number she had not called in five years.

“Brooks, fine, let’s get married. Come for me in a week. I’ll handle the divorce.”

A deep, familiar voice came through the phone.

“Finally, Sydney, you see it clearly. Preston doesn’t deserve you. Come back ASAP. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Sydney’s nose stung. She swallowed a sob. “He killed Julien. I want Preston to pay for that!”

On the other end, Brooks Stryker’s voice carried a cold edge.

“Anyone who harms the Strykers will regret it,” he swore.

The Strykers weren’t just wealthy. They were the most mysterious top-tier tycoons in the capital, controlling the country’s economy.

After hanging up, Sydney’s eyes hardened.

She would leave Preston forever!

2

Sydney lifted her hand to caress her lower belly. The surprise she had planned for Preston no longer mattered—after today, there was nothing left to tell him.

She turned and walked toward the cemetery.

Today was Julien’s birthday. Alone, Sydney knelt before her son’s grave.

The tombstone was cold and bare, not a single flower. Preston hadn’t glanced at his son once.

The night air was chilling, but not nearly as cold as the hollow ache in Sydney’s chest.

My baby… You could have survived if only your father hadn’t given your heart to Chicago instead, she thought, her chest tight and suffocating.

She had failed to protect him, and she blamed herself.

Her fingers trembled as they brushed Julien’s face etched in stone. “My baby… those who hurt you—they’ll get what they deserve…” she promised through clenched teeth.

Exhausted, she dragged herself home. But when she pushed open the door, the scene before her ripped her chest apart—Preston and Savannah were celebrating Chicago’s birthday.

The table was laden with food, a pristine cake, and the three of them wore smiles that mocked her grief.

Preston’s long, elegant fingers shelled lobster one by one, carefully placing the meat on Savannah’s plate.

The tenderness in his gaze stabbed Sydney like knives.

He had always been obsessive about cleanliness. Every time he ate lobster, Sydney shelled each one for him. And now… he did it for Savannah.

Chicago stood on his chair, yelling for cake. Preston didn’t scold him; he cut a slice and coaxed him gently.

The scene dragged up the memory of her own son, so painful she had to catch her breath.

Preston had never celebrated a birthday with Julien. He was “too busy,” and when he was home, he was stern. Boys shouldn’t be delicate, he said, never embracing Julien, never feeding him.

Julien had died without ever seeing his father celebrate him. Meanwhile, Savannah’s son easily won Preston’s affection.

Sydney bit her trembling lip, refusing to cry.

Savannah noticed and smiled faintly. “Oh, Sydney, you’re home. Why so quiet? Can’t stand to see Chicago and me?”

Preston lifted his head, his gaze settling on Sydney. His relaxed features twisted with displeasure.

“Come on, Sydney. Savannah is your sister. She and Chicago just returned to the country, so they’ll be staying here from now on. As the older sister, you should be more understanding. Don’t compete with her in everything.”

Sydney’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “Preston… do you even know what day it is?”

He frowned but didn’t answer.

Her eyes burned as she forced it down. “It’s Julien’s birthday, too.”

Her Julien lay alone in the cold cemetery, and his father hadn’t looked at him. Yet Preston was here celebrating Savannah’s son.

Was this man even human?

For a moment, guilt flickered in his eyes.

Savannah and Chicago had returned today, and it was the boy’s birthday. Too much was happening; Preston had forgotten it was also Julien’s birthday.

“It’s Chicago’s birthday. I couldn’t leave…” he said.

Before he could finish, Sydney laughed bitterly and turned away.

She didn’t want to hear how much Preston adored Chicago—it only deepened her grief for Julien.

She returned to her room. Savannah followed, dripping fake concern.

“Sydney,” she said, “I know Julien’s death is hard for you. But he was born with a congenital heart defect. His life was suffering; death… was a release.”

Sydney shivered. Julien was her deepest wound, and Savannah deliberately tore at it.

She couldn’t bear it. She raised her hand and slapped Savannah without hesitation.

“What are you doing?!” Preston’s cold voice cut through.

Savannah clutched her face and leaned into him. “Preston, I was only trying to show concern. And she hit me! Does she not want me and Chicago here?”

Preston’s eyes darkened. The next second, his hand struck Sydney with full force.

The blow sent her world spinning, her ears ringing.

“From today,” Preston announced, “the master bedroom goes to Savannah. You move to the guest room!”

Feeling something wet by her ear, Sydney touched warm, sticky red.

Her eyes widened at Preston.

Savannah said softly, “Sydney, that look… You mean you don’t want to give me the master bedroom?”

Preston looked at Sydney with disgust. “Such jealousy. Perhaps I was too good to you these past years. Since you’ve forgotten your place… maybe the confinement room will help you reflect.”

The words echoed in her head. Confinement room?!

Before she could protest, she was dragged into a dark, airtight space.

Worse, she had claustrophobia.

Panic and suffocation hit at once. “Let me out! Preston, I’m afraid of the dark! Let me out!”

Outside, Preston’s brow furrowed, a brief hesitation softening him—until Savannah whispered,

“Are you pitying her? She grew up in the countryside, remember? She can’t be afraid of the dark. She’s faking it. Five years ago, she forced me abroad and stole you… Now she’s playing the same game.”

Preston knelt beside Savannah. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he said, leaving Sydney trapped.

Her heart sank as their footsteps faded.

He had truly locked her in.

Tears spilled uncontrollably. She curled up, digging nails into her skin, biting her lips until they bled.

In her bloodshot eyes burned only hatred.

In the dead of night, warm liquid splashed her face; the stench hit her.

She snapped her eyes open in terror. A massive dog’s head loomed above.

“Ahhh!” she screamed.

The next second, sharp teeth sank into her arm.

She thrashed, but there was no escape. Flesh tore from her arm, thigh, and back.

The sealed room reeked of blood.

Crawling to the door, soaked in red, she cried out with all her strength. “Someone! Save me… Preston, help me! Let me out!”

But no matter how she screamed, the door stayed shut.

Drawn by blood, the dog grew more frenzied, lunging for her neck.

“Ugh—”

Pain exploded through her body. She coughed up blood—and blacked out.

3

Sydney woke in the hospital.

Her entire body ached, and her delicate throat was swathed in gauze. The moment she tried to speak, knives seemed to slice her vocal cords, sending cold sweat down her spine.

“I…”

The nurse hurried to stop her. “Your throat is seriously injured. You can’t speak for now.”

Sydney picked up her phone and saw Savannah’s latest Instagram post.

At the amusement park, Preston held Chicago’s hand on one side, Savannah on the other—the three a perfect picture of family.

Sydney’s gaze darkened, her fists clenched until her knuckles blanched.

Before Julien died, his greatest wish was for Preston to take him to the amusement park. He never got the chance.

Not even on his birthday did Preston show up. They waited day and night, but he never came.

He said he was busy with work. Sydney knew too well it was just an excuse.

Three whole years, he hadn’t spared a single day for Julien, yet the moment Savannah returned to New York, he immediately whisked her and Chicago to the amusement park.

Sydney threw back the covers and tried to stand.

The nurse grew anxious. “Hey, you can’t leave yet! You’re badly injured and pregnant! If you must be discharged, your family has to pick you up.”

Family?

A bitter laugh slipped out. The Adelsons had always treated her like a tool. And her husband…

Since Savannah and her son returned, Preston had probably forgotten his wife existed.

The moment she stepped into the villa, her blood boiled.

An Alaskan malamute wore a tiny outfit—Julien’s outfit.

Every piece of the boy’s belongings had been carefully preserved by her, treasured like a lifeline. Now someone had desecrated them.

Rage flared. Ignoring her injuries, she lunged to snatch the clothes.

Just then, Preston and Savannah walked in with Chicago.

The kid swung a wooden stick. “Bad woman! Don’t hurt Loki! I’ll beat you to death! I’ll beat you to death, bad woman!”

But Sydney’s eyes were fixed on Julien’s clothes. The next second, she shoved the kid aside.

He toppled and wailed.

Preston’s face darkened. He scooped up Chicago, soothed him, then turned on Sydney.

“What’s gotten into you?!”

Her eyes were bloodshot, fury drowning reason. “Preston, that’s Julien’s clothing! You’re putting his clothes on a dog!”

Savannah frowned. “It’s just a piece of clothing. Why make a fuss? I can buy her a new one. Sydney, there’s no need to hit a child over something so trivial.”

“You can’t replace it!” Sydney shot back. “Julien is dead, and you dare humiliate him like this?!”

“That’s enough!” Preston’s voice cut through.

His gaze turned cold as a blade, his face hard with fury. “It’s just clothing. Is it worth a scene? Seriously, Sydney, you’re getting more and more unruly!”

Sydney stared, stunned.

Just a piece of clothing…

“Preston, that’s Julien’s clothing!” she roared.

Preston’s brows knotted. “For God’s sake, Sydney, Julien is dead! How long will you keep this up?”

Sydney fell silent, her heart shattering.

How could someone be so cold-blooded?

Julien was his child, too.

Just then, Chicago tugged Preston’s hand, pouting. “Loki doesn’t have a room yet. Can he stay in the room upstairs?”

Without hesitation, Preston replied, “Sure.”

The second-floor room was Julien’s. Sydney’s pupils constricted, fury blazing.

Preston wanted to give Julien’s room to a dog?!

Feeling invincible with Preston’s backing, Chicago went further. He tossed Julien’s favorite stuffed toy to the dog.

That toy had been Julien’s constant companion, held his scent, and was the only thing Sydney could hug at night to sleep.

Now the dog clamped it between its teeth.

Pain twisted her insides like a knife. Her chest felt pierced, the heartache unbearable.

Teeth gritted, emotions spiraling, she lunged for the toy—but Chicago shoved her hard.

Her forehead slammed against the crimson table corner; blood gushed instantly.

She couldn’t stand. Blood streamed over her lashes, drowning her vision in red until everything blurred scarlet.

Preston’s eyes flickered. His hand lifted—then Savannah whispered,

“Preston, my hand really hurts.”

Preston immediately scooped her up and walked out, not even glancing at Sydney on the floor.

Sydney forced her eyes open. All she saw was Preston’s cold back and Savannah’s triumphant smirk.

Every bone, every fiber hurt. None of it matched the agony in her chest.

Blood kept flowing; her temperature dropped. Her face went paper-pale; her brown pupils were bottomless pits of pain and hate…

Suddenly, her phone rang. It was Brooks.

With effort, she picked up.

On the line, Brooks said coolly, “I’ve found a divorce lawyer for you. Sydney… don’t make me wait too long.”

4

Sydney walked out of the hospital alone and headed straight to a divorce lawyer.

The papers were already prepared. The lawyer looked at her seriously. “Ma’am, Mr. Stryker asked me to pass along a message.”

He relayed, “Don’t forget—you have my family behind you. Even if everything falls apart, someone will catch you.”

Sydney’s eyes stung; she clenched the papers tight.

She had been reckless—leaving the Strykers to return to her own, stubbornly marrying Preston despite knowing better. Now she knew how absurdly wrong she’d been.

All along, the man who truly loved her was with the Strykers.

With that, she took the divorce agreement and went to Preston’s company.

But before she reached the upper floor, his assistant stopped her.

Expression blank, the assistant said, “Sir Preston is in a meeting. He doesn’t have time to see you.”

A chill swept Sydney’s eyes. She should have guessed he’d cheated. Otherwise, how could his assistant dare speak to her like this?

At that moment, Savannah arrived.

Seeing Sydney, her face darkened. Arms crossed, she sneered, “What are you doing here? Preston doesn’t want to see you. Take my advice—wake up and stop clinging. The woman he loves is me.”

Sydney met her gaze and held up the divorce papers. “If you don’t want to be a lifelong mistress, have Preston sign this.”

Savannah took the document, startled for a beat. Greed soon flashed when she saw it was real.

“You’re really divorcing Preston?” she asked, trying to hide her excitement.

Sydney turned to leave. Afraid she’d change her mind, Savannah rushed to push open the meeting-room door.

This time, the assistant didn’t stop her. His boss had said Savannah could enter freely.

When Preston saw her, there was no annoyance at the interruption. His expression softened.

“Savannah, what brings you here?”

Savannah flipped to the last page. “Preston, sign here.”

He didn’t even glance—he signed his name.

Seeing how easy it was, Sydney let out a bitter smile.

So this is love: meetings can be interrupted, documents signed without a glance.

She had once believed he loved her. How laughable.

Savannah handed the signed divorce papers to Sydney. “Here. Don’t pester him again.”

Sydney took them and went straight to the clerk’s office.

Outside, rain had started—cold and fine in the wind. She wrapped her coat tighter, still shivering.

When she stepped back into the villa, she saw Preston and Savannah entwined on the couch.

Sydney turned a blind eye and headed upstairs.

But Savannah wasn’t done.

“Hey, Sydney. You grew up in the countryside, didn’t you? You must be good at cooking. I haven’t had much of an appetite. I want some soup—made by you.”

Sydney’s face stayed blank. “I’m not your maid,” she said flatly.

Savannah pouted and whined at Preston. “Preston, I just want some soup. But she won’t make it. Is she still mad we let Loki stay in Julien’s room?”

Preston frowned, eyes darkening as he glanced at Sydney. “It’s just a bowl of soup. You used to make it. If Savannah wants it, make it for her.”

Sydney froze. It felt like all the love she’d poured out had gone to the dogs.

She’d been pampered by the Strykers since childhood—her foster parents and Brooks treated her like a princess, never letting her do chores.

She learned to cook only for Preston, because he was picky and refused the servants’ dishes. Feeling sorry for him, she took the initiative to learn.

Her hands blistered and scarred more than a dozen times before she finally mastered it.

And now that had become his reason to order her around.

Sydney sneered, enunciating, “I won’t do it.”

She turned to leave. Preston’s face darkened. He barked, “Stop! If you want Julien’s ashes, go make the damn soup!”

Sydney spun, disbelief and fury igniting. “Preston! What have you done?! You dug up Julien’s ashes?!”

Preston frowned at her blazing stare.

Savannah, pretending to be reasonable, fanned the flames. “Don’t blame Preston, Sydney. After Chicago returned, he wasn’t feeling well. Someone said an unclean spirit was harming him, so Preston had Julien’s ashes dug up.”

Sydney glared at Preston. “You dug up Julien’s ashes?! Aren’t you afraid of karma?”

Savannah gasped, hand to mouth. “Sydney! How can you curse Preston like that?”

Preston’s expression turned vicious. “Get lost! Make the soup!”

Sydney’s chest heaved, rage scorching her sanity.

Her Julien had been so obedient, so gentle—tormented in life, and now disturbed in death.

She couldn’t let him suffer further.

For him, she went to the kitchen.

The soup was ready when Savannah suddenly cried, “Ouch! My hand! Sydney! Why did you pour this hot soup on me?!”

Hearing the panic, Preston rushed over and held Savannah.

His gaze, dark and murderous, snapped to Sydney. “Do you want to die?!”

Sydney stood straight. “I didn’t do it. She’s pretending.”

Veins bulged on his forehead; his eyes went cold as steel. Preston suddenly pressed Sydney’s hand into the boiling soup.

“Ahhh!”

Her scream tore through the room. Searing pain crashed through every nerve; her skin reddened instantly, blisters swelling grotesquely.

She bit her lip, body convulsing, struggling but unable to escape the agony that reached bone.

Tears mixed with sweat, blurring her vision.

After a while, Preston let go—then struck her belly. “Savannah treats you like a sister, but you’re so vicious you tried to burn her hand! If anything happens to her, I’ll never forgive you!”

He dashed off with Savannah to the hospital.

Meanwhile, Sydney lay on the floor, blood pooling beneath her. She knew exactly what that meant.

Her face was as pale as death.

5

The sharp scent of disinfectant stung her nose. Sydney woke in the hospital again.

The blisters on her hands had been drained and bandaged.

The bad news—she had miscarried. Another child was gone.

Her eyes went vacant, her heart a barren wasteland.

She hadn’t protected Julien, nor could she keep the baby she carried.

Just then, the ward door was kicked open with a bang.

Preston stormed in, rage consuming him. He grabbed Sydney by the collar and yanked her up.

“Sydney! Look at the mess you caused! Do you hate Savannah so much you have to steal everything from her?!” he shouted. “You’re already my wife! What more do you want? Why hurt Savannah and Chicago?!”

Her forehead gleamed with sweat from pain. “I—I never hurt Savannah…”

But Preston didn’t give her a chance to explain.

He threw her to the floor like trash, eyes spitting daggers.

“Because of your jealousy, you burned her hand! Because of you, Chicago ran a high fever! I swear, Sydney, you’ll pay for this!”

The next second, she was dragged from the general ward to the VIP suite.

He forced her head down, making her apologize to Savannah.

Over and over, her knees reddened, blood trickling down pale legs, staining the floor.

Her expression went blank, her body numb from pain. She didn’t even have the strength to resist.

After nearly a hundred forced kneels, Preston finally stopped.

As she slipped into darkness, his cold voice brushed her ear.

“This is the price you pay for hurting Savannah…”

This time, Sydney remained unconscious for three days.

When she finally opened her eyes, a familiar figure stood before her.

Preston’s brow was tired, his forehead slightly furrowed, his tone uncharacteristically gentle.

“You’re awake. Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant? The doctor says you miscarried; you need to rest,” he said. “Don’t be jealous of Savannah anymore. As long as you behave, I won’t divorce you. To the public, you will always be my wife.”

He pressed on, “Chicago hasn’t been well lately. Sydney, look, you’ve got to be more understanding. If you can’t help me, at least don’t make things harder. You and Savannah will keep living under the same roof. You must get along with her.”

“Hah.” Sydney scoffed. “Preston, what do you take me for? A fool?”

They killed her son and now expected her to get along with Savannah.

Preston frowned, a warning in his tone. “Savannah grew up with the Adelsons. Her bond with them isn’t something you can compete with. Sydney, if you keep this up, you’ll only hurt yourself.”

Sydney lowered her gaze, a contemptuous smile curling.

“Preston, I don’t want the Adelsons anymore. And I don’t want you either.”

If not for seeing her own blood again, she would never have returned to the Adelsons, nor married him.

The Adelsons only wanted to use her. At first, they pretended guilt. After she married Preston, the pretense ended. They treated the fake heiress as their real daughter and never cared whether Sydney lived or died.

Her words hit Preston, but he wrote them off as capricious defiance.

His voice turned colder, irritation flashing in his eyes. “Sydney, even jealousy has limits. I’m busy, you know. I don’t have time to coddle you.”

Sydney’s stomach turned at his hypocrisy.

Losing her temper, she slammed the glass down, shattering it, and pointed at the door. “Get out! I don’t want to see you!”

Her defiance ignited his anger.

His face darkened; he kicked the door hard, then stormed off. The door slammed against the wall with a deafening crash.

Meanwhile, in the CEO’s office of the Strykers Corporation, the door opened.

The assistant placed a wedding proposal in front of Brooks.

“Sir, the company drafted a few wedding plans for your review.”

Behind the desk, the man in a tailored suit exuded sharp authority. His cold eyes skimmed the assistant, slender fingers tapping lightly on the desk.

“What did the lawyer say?”

“Ma’am Sydney has already divorced Preston, sir.”

A faint smile tugged at Brooks’s lips. “Announce it publicly—I’m getting married.”

After five long years of waiting, Sydney was finally coming back to him.

All of New York was abuzz, desperate to know the identity of the Strykers heir’s mysterious bride.

Even Preston heard the news.

6

Savannah called Preston’s name again and again. “Preston? Preston?”

But he didn’t respond. She curled her lip in annoyance.

“Are you thinking about Sydney? You’ve been with her these past few days. Have you fallen for her? Don’t forget she forced me to go abroad, stole you from me, and even tried to burn me!”

Preston quickly set his work aside and soothed her in a soft voice. “What are you saying? How could she compare to you?”

But Savannah wouldn’t let it go. “I don’t believe you—unless you give me Sydnora. Then I’ll believe you.”

He hesitated for a few seconds.

Sydnora was a company Sydney founded herself; she had always treasured it.

Sensing his hesitation, Savannah’s eyes brimmed with tears. She cried, guilt-tripping him, “I knew five years would change everything. You used to agree to anything. You wouldn’t hesitate at all.”

Seeing her aggrieved look, Preston gave in. “Alright, I’ll give it to you.”

Three days later, Sydney was discharged and went home. Preston waited for her in the living room.

She didn’t want anything to do with him, but he handed her a document to sign: a transfer of shares for Sydnora.

“Savannah likes this company,” he said. “Transfer the shares to her.”

Sydney’s hand shook with fury as she tossed the papers into the trash. “That is my company! How dare you hand it to that woman?!”

When she returned to the Adelsons hiding her identity, people mocked her as a poor girl. For this reason, Preston gave her money so she could start a business and stand on her own.

Syndora was the company she built for him and for Julien.

Over the years, she had gradually made it a recognized jewelry brand. She planned to leave it to her first child, but he never saw that day.

Now Preston expected her to give it away with a casual word.

She thought she’d grown numb. Suddenly, pain like a thousand needles pierced her chest.

“Preston, don’t go too far!” she snapped.

When she refused to sign, his face hardened. “You’re the reason Savannah and Chicago were hospitalized. Savannah likes your company; she’s giving you a chance to make up for it. Come on, Sydney, don’t be ungrateful.”

Ungrateful?! The word rang in her ears.

She ground her teeth and blurted, “My God, Preston, I was blind to love you for five years!”

His eyes darkened, anger rising. “If you want Julien’s ashes, then pick them up and sign.”

She couldn’t bear the manipulation. Before she knew it, her hand had already landed on his cheek, the slap bold and clear.

“Preston, Julien is your son too! You threaten me with his ashes so you can give my company to Savannah? Are you still human?”

Preston’s Adam’s apple bobbed, a complicated emotion flickering across his face.

“I said I won’t divorce you. The company goes to Savannah. If you want children, we can have more.”

At the thought that she once loved such a monster, Sydney felt sick.

“Ugh—” She rushed to the trash can and vomited, as if trying to empty the last five years.

After she calmed, thinking of Julien, she finally signed.

After all, this would be the last day. Once she collected Julien’s ashes, she would leave Preston for good.

Outside the door, Savannah’s eyes glinted with cruelty.

As long as that cheap woman lives, she cursed, Preston will never marry me. If that’s the case, they can’t blame me for the consequences!

That night, Sydney and Savannah were kidnapped at the same time.

In an abandoned factory, Sydney was suspended by her feet, dangling in midair; Savannah hung beside her.

Sydney heard the kidnapper call Preston. “Mr. Rockefeller, I’ve got your women. If you want to save them, come alone.”

Preston acted fast, arriving at the location.

The first thing he did was check on Savannah, scanning her up and down. Only after confirming she was uninjured did he breathe a sigh of relief.

A long time passed before he remembered his wife.

He glanced at Sydney—only a casual look, nothing like the urgency he’d shown Savannah.

He turned to the kidnapper. “How much do you want?”

At that, the kidnapper twisted into a sinister grin and shoved a knife toward his captives. “Easy, Mr. Rockefeller. Let’s play a game. You can take one of these two women. The other—she’s mine. What do you say?”

“No.” Preston’s gaze went cold and fierce. He rejected it without hesitation.

The kidnapper burst into laughter, eyes murderous. “Unfortunately—it’s not your choice. If you won’t pick, they both die with me.”

Preston clenched his fists, veins standing out.

When he stayed silent, Savannah suddenly spoke. “Preston, the kidnappers are with my sister! I overheard them—Sydney’s jealous of me and staged this to frame me! Don’t be fooled!”

In a flash, Preston’s anger snapped toward Sydney. Under his fierce stare, she didn’t flinch.

“If I said I didn’t do it, would you believe me?” she asked coolly.

He didn’t… because he chose Savannah.

Savannah was freed and fell into his arms. He held her, then looked at Sydney hanging there, his eyes cold and empty.

“Since you like playing games, then keep playing.”

“Preston.” Sydney forced herself to speak. “Five years ago, I didn’t force Savannah to leave the country.”

He stopped mid-step. Their eyes met; his heart tightened.

Seeing his hesitation, Savannah panicked that he might believe Sydney.

She hurried to say, “Preston, I love you so much—you know that. How could I leave you? She’s jealous and wants to drive a wedge between us!”

Her tears and pitiful act made Preston’s doubt vanish.

He gently wiped her tears.

When he lifted his head, warmth vanished; only ruthless chill remained.

“Savannah’s pure and kind,” he declared. “Sydney, you’ve singled her out again and again. If I don’t give you a lesson, you won’t learn.”

He turned to the kidnapper. “How much do you want? I’ll pay double. Make sure she learns something.”

Without taking the words back, he left with Savannah.

Sydney stared, unable to believe how cold his heart could be.

Watching them walk away, she swore, “Preston! Savannah! I swear—both of you will pay for this!”

The kidnapper, thrilled by double pay for one job, pressed the knife to Sydney’s skin. Before it touched her, a bullet tore through the wrist holding the blade.

A shadowed figure descended from a hovering winged craft and strode forward.

Brooks carefully caught Sydney in his arms. “Hey. My dear fiancée, I came to take you home.”