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"I'm sick of sleeping with you. We're done." Six years ago, Danielle made up some bullsh!t excuse to dump broke Jonathan. Then she caved to family pressure and accepted an arranged marriage. Six years later? She's bruised, betrayed, and buried in a trainwreck divorce. And that guy she threw away? Now he's the lawyer who could ruin her life with one phone call. "Danielle. I'm handling your divorce case now." She tries to bolt—he catches her wrist. "Six years, Danielle. You think saying 'we're done' just wipes the slate clean?" "From today on, your life? It's MINE." "I'm bored. Let's break up." Six years ago, Danielle Griffin, the eldest daughter of the Griffin family, tossed out those words and walked away without looking back. She dumped Jonathan Mitchell, who was dead broke at the time, and married Oscar Peterson, the mayor's son. Six years later, the Griffin family went broke. Danielle was trapped in an abusive marriage with Oscar and finally decided to file for divorce. At her lowest point, bruised and humiliated, she ran into Jonathan again. A café. Danielle sat by the floor-to-ceiling window, wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap, checking her watch over and over. She had an appointment with her divorce attorney today, but for some reason, he still hadn't shown up past their agreed time. Just as she was about to call him, the café door opened and a tall man walked in. He was dressed in a gray three-piece suit, a black shirt, and a striped tie. His presence was polished and commanding. From the moment he entered, several female baristas couldn't help glancing his way. A face with bone structure that sharp was rare in real life unless you were in the entertainment industry. Others were stunned by how hands0me he was. Danielle was stunned because she was scared out of her mind. The man who walked in was Jonathan. Her first love. The man she had dumped six years ago with a single sentence: "I'm bored of sleeping with you." Six years apart, and Jonathan looked like a completely different person. The Jonathan she remembered always wore white linen shirts, gentle and clean, like the friendly guy next door. The man in front of her now had lost every trace of that softness. His features were sharper, more severe, his gaze cold and aggressive, like a predator that had learned how to hunt. Danielle's heart slammed wildly against her ribs. She hurriedly lowered the brim of her cap, silently praying that Jonathan wouldn't see her. Oscar had hit her just yesterday. Her face was still covered in bruises. She didn't want Jonathan to see her like this. She would rather be remembered as the arrogant, heartless woman who dumped him than let him see how utterly defeated she had been in her marriage. But the universe had other plans. Jonathan walked straight to her table, pulled out the chair across from her, and sat down calmly. "Sorry. Traffic," he said. Danielle froze. Who was Jonathan here to meet? Had he taken the wrong seat? "Sir," she said without lifting her head. The cap and sunglasses hid most of her face. She deliberately tightened her voice, forcing a different tone. "I think you've mistaken me for someone else. This seat isn't yours." "Miss Griffin," Jonathan said coolly. "Stop pretending. I'd recognize you anywhere." Miss Griffin. Danielle stiffened. Ever since the Griffin family went broke, no one had called her that. It used to be Jonathan's favorite way to address her. Back when they were together, he would hold her tightly, his voice hoarse and breathless, murmuring her name over and over in her ear. "Miss Griffin, can I come in now?" "Miss Griffin, do you still want it?" "Miss Griffin, say you love me." Those intimate, possessive memories surged back all at once. But today, when "Miss Griffin" came from Jonathan's lips, there was no trace of desire left. Only open, undisguised hatred. "Sir, I'm not the person you're looking for," Danielle insisted. "Please leave this seat. The person I'm meeting will be here soon." "Reynolds won't be coming," Jonathan said as he ordered a coffee, his tone unhurried. "Your divorce case will be handled by me from now on." Danielle snapped her head up. "Why? I had an appointment with him." "Finally decided to look at me?" She paused. Behind the dark lenses, Jonathan's gaze was calm and unreadable, carrying the effortless authority of someone used to being in control. She pressed on. "Why isn't Mr. Reynolds coming?" "Reynolds violated professional conduct multiple times. He was dismissed by his firm today." "I spoke to him just last night, and today he's disbarred? You expect me to believe that's a coincidence?" Danielle stared at him. "Jonathan, you did this on purpose, didn't you?" "Why would I?" he scoffed. "To see you?" "Danielle, do you really think I still have feelings for you?" She wasn't delusional enough to think that. She knew Jonathan hated her. No man would pine after the woman who crushed his pride. "That's not what I meant." "Then what did you mean?" "I meant you probably came just to watch me make a fool of myself." "At least you're self-aware," he replied flatly. He admitted it. Even though Danielle had expected it, hearing him say it out loud still sent a dull ache spreading through her ch//est. Her six years in the Peterson family had been nothing but misery. A strained marriage. In-laws who never accepted her. After the Griffin family collapsed, the Petersons treated her with even less respect. Her life had been a slow, grinding humiliation. The pride that once belonged to Miss Griffin had been worn down to nothing. Plenty of people wanted to see her suffer. But if anyone truly had the right to watch her fall, it was Jonathan. "If you want to see me at my worst," she said quietly, "then I'll give you the full show." Danielle took off her sunglasses and baseball cap. She wasn't wearing any makeup. Her pale skin looked like a blank canvas, making the redness on her forehead and the dark bruising at the corner of her eye painfully obvious. The moment Jonathan saw her injuries, his expression darkened. His fingers tightened around the coffee cup, veins standing out on the back of his hand. That asshole Oscar. "Enjoying the view?" Danielle's voice trembled. "If it's not enough, I can explain. This scar on my forehead was from an ashtray. The bruise here was from—" "That's enough. Shut up," Jonathan snapped. It felt like something sharp had pierced his ch//est, the pain spreading uncontrollably. "This was your choice," he said harshly. "You brought this on yourself." "Yes," Danielle said softly. "It was my choice. I deserve all of it. And now that you've seen how badly I turned out, you can finally let it go." Her eyes seared as she looked at him. "What happened back then was my fault. I'm sorry. From now on, we're even." She grabbed her sunglasses and cap and fled the café as if running for her life. Jonathan remained seated, his eyes fixed on her retreating figure. Emotions surged inside him like a rising tide, threatening to drown him at any second. His phone rang. "Jonathan, where are you?" "Meeting a client." "You just got back to the States. What client?" The person on the other end paused, then reacted. "Wait. Don't tell me you took over Reynolds' divorce case. Come on. You're the head of a law firm. Since when do you take petty little cases like that?" Jonathan ignored the comment. "Do me a favor." "What?" "Look into Oscar Peterson. Every detail." Danielle staggered out of the café, her legs barely holding her up. For six years, the name Jonathan had been tucked away in the deepest, most guarded corner of her heart. The pain of their breakup back then had been so intense that she never once imagined they would meet again. And now that they had, without warning, her emotions were in complete chaos. Her phone rang. Tiffany's soft, sweet voice instantly calmed her racing thoughts. "Mommy, when are you coming back?" "Soon, sweetheart. Mommy's on her way." Danielle returned to Riverton Heights, to the house of her best friend, Taylor Vincent. Last night, after Oscar beat her and then disappeared, the police were unable to locate him. Afraid he would come back and hurt her and Tiffany again, Danielle had fled the Peterson family home overnight with her daughter and sought refuge with Taylor. After the Griffin family went broke, nearly all of Danielle's former friends had vanished. Only Taylor remained the same. One phone call was all it took for her to open her door. The moment Danielle walked in, Tiffany ran straight into her arms. "Mommy!" "Baby." Danielle crouched down, about to kiss her daughter's forehead, but she froze when she looked at Tiffany's face. It looked seven or eight parts like Jonathan's. When Tiffany was younger, people constantly praised her looks, saying she'd inherited Danielle's beauty. Danielle had always thought so too. It wasn't until she saw Jonathan again today that she suddenly realized Tiffany was growing more and more like him. "Mommy, what's wrong?" Tiffany asked. "Nothing." Danielle masked her emotions. "Did Tiffany behave herself while staying at Aunt Taylor's?" "I did, I did," Tiffany nodded eagerly. "I even helped water the little plants!" Taylor walked out of the bathroom just then. "She was an angel. So, Danielle, what did the lawyer say?" Danielle shot Taylor a look and led Tiffany into the bedroom first, handing her a quiet book. "Tiffany, play by yourself for a bit. Mommy and Aunt Taylor need to talk, okay? I'll come check on you soon." "Okay." Quiet books were Tiffany's favorite. She could role-play on her own for a long time. Danielle returned to the living room, where Taylor had already prepared a plate of fruit. Sitting down, Danielle told her everything that had happened at the café, including running into Jonathan. "What?" Taylor nearly jumped. "You're saying Jonathan is handling your divorce case? He's the head of Harrington Pierce LLP. He'd take a tiny divorce case like this?" "Head of Harrington Pierce LLP?" "You didn't know?" Taylor pulled up an interview on her phone. "Look. Jonathan is the CEO of Harrington Pierce LLP now. You've heard of them, right?" "That top-tier international law firm?" "Yes. That one. Rumor has it they have over thirty offices worldwide, more than two thousand attorneys, and annual revenue over a billion dollars." Danielle glanced at the article and finally understood. The poor boy from back then was now a powerhouse in one of the most prestigious firms in the legal world. No wonder. Every movement, every glance of his now carried the refined authority of wealth and success. How the tables have turned. "Danielle," Taylor said carefully, "do you think he still has feelings for you?" "Of course not. He just came to watch me fall apart." "Come on. With Jonathan's status now, his time is worth a fortune. If he didn't still care, would he really take time out of his day just to watch you crash and bu//rn?" "I'm married. I have a child. With his position, he could have any woman he wants. Why would he still be hung up on me?" "Danielle," Taylor hesitated, then said softly, "I've always wanted to ask. What really happened back then? You liked Jonathan so much, chased him for so long before you finally got together. Why did you suddenly dump him and marry a scumbag like Oscar?" Danielle fell silent. That was all so long ago. Digging it back up now felt pointless. "Forget it." Seeing her reluctance, Taylor didn't push further and quickly changed the subject. "What are you planning to do next?" "Find another lawyer," Danielle said quietly. "No matter what, I need to get this divorce finalized first." Danielle didn't sleep at all. She already had too much weighing on her mind, and Jonathan's sudden reappearance only made it worse. Around three or four in the morning, she drifted off briefly, only to be jolted awake by her alarm soon after. She turned it off and went straight to the bathroom to wash up and put on makeup, carefully concealing her injuries. Once she was ready, she went to wake Tiffany. "Mommy," Tiffany asked curiously, "why have you been wearing a hat and sunglasses all the time lately?" "Because Mommy had a cosmetic treatment," Danielle said gently. "The doctor said I need to keep my face completely covered so it can heal faster." The night Oscar assaulted her, Tiffany had already been asleep and hadn't seen anything. Danielle was grateful for that. If she could help it, she wanted her daughter to never experience something so traumatic. "But Mommy is already pretty," Tiffany said, wrapping her arms around Danielle's neck. "To Tiffany, you're the most beautiful mommy in the world." Warmth spread through Danielle's ch//est. Tiffany had always been sweet and thoughtful. Her birth had healed Danielle's shattered heart. After pushing her into darkness so cruelly, God had softened and given her Tiffany as redemption. "Thank you for the compliment, sweetheart," Danielle said softly. "In Mommy's heart, you're the most beautiful baby too. Now let's get ready for preschool, okay?" "Okay." Danielle kissed her daughter and helped her change and wash up. After breakfast, the two chatted as they waited for the elevator in the hallway. The moment the elevator doors opened, Danielle froze. Jonathan was standing inside. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored dark gray suit. The crisp white collar of his shirt framed his sharp jawline. He wasn't doing anything at all, yet a steady, commanding presence radiated from him. Danielle instinctively tightened her grip on Tiffany's shoulder. Why was Jonathan here? Did he live in this building too? No. That couldn't be it. While Taylor's apartment had been positioned as an upper-middle-class residence when it first opened, the building was old now, and the facilities were dated. With Jonathan's current status and wealth, he would certainly have better options. Their eyes met briefly. Jonathan glanced at Danielle for a split second, his gaze sliding away almost immediately. "Mommy, aren't we going in?" Tiffany looked up at her. "Y-Yes." Danielle steadied herself. She led Tiffany into the elevator. The car was spacious, but Danielle deliberately guided Tiffany into the farthest corner from Jonathan, shielding her daughter's face with her own body. The elevator descended. The numbers ticked down slowly, each second stretching unbearably long. Danielle even found herself breathing more carefully. But in truth, Jonathan never once looked at Tiffany. Of course he didn't. He despised her. Why would he pay attention to her child? Just as Danielle finally relaxed, the rainbow-colored bouncy ball Tiffany was playing with slipped from her hands and rolled straight to Jonathan's feet. "Mommy, my rainbow ball. My rainbow ball fell!" Danielle went silent. Of course it did. Tiffany reached out from behind Danielle's makeshift human shield, trying to grab it, but she couldn't reach. Jonathan glanced down, bent over, picked up the ball, and handed it back to Tiffany. Danielle watched as his large hand brushed against Tiffany's small one, cold sweat breaking out instantly. Even their hands looked alike. "Thank you, mister," Tiffany said with a sweet smile. Jonathan nodded once, expression blank, almost mechanical. Tiffany was about to say something else when Danielle quickly covered her mouth. Finally, the elevator reached the first floor. The soft ding sounded like salvation. Jonathan stood closer to the front. Since he was heading to the underground garage, he didn't move. Danielle wrapped an arm around Tiffany, sidestepped past him, and rushed out of the elevator as if escaping. The doors slid shut and continued downward. Tiffany looked back once before asking quietly, "Mommy, was that uncle in the elevator a bad person?" "Why would you think that?" Danielle asked. "Because you kept blocking me, and your hand was all sweaty." Only then did Danielle realize her daughter had sensed her tension. "No, Tiffany. That uncle isn't a bad person," she said gently. "But he's a stranger. Mommy told you before, we need to keep a little distance from strangers, right?" "Yes. But if he was just a normal stranger," Tiffany tilted her head, "why were you so nervous, Mommy?" "I was just… just worried you'd be late," Danielle said quickly. "Come on, come on, if we keep talking you'll be late for school." Her distraction worked. "I don't want to be late," Tiffany said seriously. "I want a gold star!" Jonathan's car pulled out of the underground garage. At the intersection ahead, he saw Danielle and her daughter again. One tall, one small, hand in hand, moving briskly beneath the shadows of plane trees. The child looked about five or six years old, her hair tied into two pigtails. The tiny cherry charms on her hair ties glimmered faintly in the morning light. "Jonathan, when we have a daughter someday, okay? I'll braid her hair every day, and you'll take her to preschool. I want her to grow up happy, right by our side." "Okay. It'd be best if she looked like you." "No, daughters should look like their dads." "Looking like me would be fine too." The memory cracked open like an old wooden ch//est, dust swirling in a beam of light. But then what? Then she had a daughter with another man. After walking Tiffany into preschool, Danielle stood at the entrance, watching until her daughter disappeared into the classroom before finally turning away. Across the street from the school, a Cullinan was parked. At first, Danielle assumed it belonged to another parent and paid it no mind. But as she crossed the street, the black Cullinan rolled forward like a silent beast, splashing through a puddle and stopping precisely beside her. The window lowered slowly. Jonathan was in the driver's seat. In the dim light, his hands0me profile looked cold, almost indifferent. "Miss Griffin," he called out lazily, deliberately dragging out the words, the mockery unmistakable. "Why are you here?" Danielle asked. "Just passing by." If he was just passing by, there was nothing more to say. She turned to leave. "Your daughter is beautiful," Jonathan added calmly. Danielle's heart clenched. Why would he say that out of nowhere? Did he notice something? "My daughter being pretty takes after me," she snapped. "Is that not allowed?" Jonathan's gaze darkened. Taking after her? Of course it did. Back at Kingswell University, who hadn't heard of Miss Griffin's beauty? Everyone who saw her said Danielle carried a presence that was impossible to ignore. It wasn't the cool glow of moonlight, but the blazing brightness of a midsummer sun. Bold, radiant, unapologetically alive. When she smiled, her eyes curved into bright crescents, shallow dimples appearing as she laughed. Lively and irresistibly charming. Back then, Miss Griffin was a goddess in the hearts of countless men. "I was just complimenting your daughter," Jonathan said coolly. "Why are you so nervous?" "I'm not nervous," Danielle shot back. "Which eye of yours saw me being nervous?" In truth, she was so guilty she just wanted to escape his gaze as fast as possible. Seeing her about to leave again, Jonathan stretched his arm out of the Cullinan's window and caught her by the arm. "Running away again?" he said softly. "The Miss Griffin who used to cling to me like glue now bolts the moment she sees me?" His long fingers were like steel clamps. Even through the thin fabric of her sleeve, Danielle could clearly feel the strength in his knuckles and the heat of his palm. The Cullinan was impossible to miss. People nearby were already glancing their way. "Jonathan," Danielle said tightly, "this is my daughter's preschool. What exactly are you trying to do, grabbing me like this at the school gate?" "Nothing much." His voice was calm. "Just letting you know that I don't accept your apology from yesterday." As he spoke, his grip suddenly tightened. Caught off guard, Danielle was pulled hard against the driver's door. Jonathan leaned slightly out of the window, one hand pressing against the back of her neck as he lowered his voice beside her ear. "And one more thing, Miss Griffin. You don't get to say we're even." With that, he released her without warning. Deprived of his support, Danielle lost her balance and fell to the ground. She was utterly humiliated. The Cullinan's engine let out a low growl before speeding away, leaving her sitting there, coughing in a cloud of dust. "Jonathan, you asshole!" Danielle cursed under her breath. What is wrong with him? Picking on her first thing in the morning?! *** After returning from the preschool, Danielle began reaching out to lawyers again. To avoid Jonathan, she deliberately steered clear of every divorce attorney at Harrington Pierce LLP. But after calling around all day, she realized that none of the well-known law firms in New York were willing to take her case. That made sense. Oscar's father was the mayor. Powerful and well-connected. No lawyer wanted to offend the Peterson family over a divorce fee. After an entire day of calls, Danielle finally reached a female attorney named Emily from Sterling Grant LLP that evening. Emily said she was willing to take the case. They agreed to meet at Stillwater Café in the evening. The location was Emily's choice. She said it was quiet there. Danielle left Tiffany with Taylor and took a cab to the café. When she arrived, Emily was already waiting. "Miss Griffin, you must've had a long trip," Emily said with a gentle smile, warm and approachable. "Have some coffee first. It'll help you warm up." "Thank you." Danielle held the cup but didn't drink right away. Only after she saw Emily finish her own coffee in one go did she take a small sip. After exchanging a few pleasantries, they got down to business. Once Emily had reviewed Danielle and Oscar's marital situation, she asked, "You said your husband abused you. Do you have any direct evidence? Surveillance footage, eyewitnesses?" Danielle shook her head. "No." This had been the first time Oscar ever hit her. She never expected it, and there was no reason she would've recorded anything in advance. "I don't have direct evidence, but I did call the police. There's a police report." Emily glanced at the report. "When the police arrived, your husband wasn't there?" "That's right. He knew I was calling the police, so he ran." "So the domestic abuse claim is based solely on your report, without evidence." Emily raised an eyebrow. "Then how do you prove your husband actually assaulted you? Is it possible he wasn't even present, and you staged this to falsely accuse him?" Danielle froze. A chill ran down her spine. "What do you mean?" "I mean that Mr. Peterson didn't actually abuse you. You framed him so you could get a larger share of the assets in the divorce." "I did not." "Whether you did or didn't, you know best," Emily said calmly. "If this is how you casually speculate about your clients," Danielle said coldly, "then I don't think there's anything left to discuss." She grabbed her bag and stood up. The moment she did, dizziness washed over her. Her vision blurred. Emily's smiling face wavered and doubled before her eyes. "I… I feel dizzy," Danielle said weakly. "You put something in the coffee…" "I didn't," Emily replied smoothly. "Miss Griffin, don't go around making false accusations again." She walked over and held Danielle by the arm. "You might just be hypoglycemic. Sit down for a bit and you'll feel better." The world spun. Danielle's body went limp. The back of her head struck the hard armrest of the chair. It barely hurt. Numbness was already spreading rapidly through her body. Before she completely lost consciousness, she saw Emily standing over her, looking down at her from above. The warmth was gone from her face, replaced by the blank indifference of someone who had completed a task. "I've confirmed it," Emily said, her tone faintly triumphant. "She has no evidence of domestic abuse. As instructed, she's down now." Danielle finally understood. This woman had been sent by Oscar! Danielle woke up again in a completely unfamiliar room. Her head throbbed violently. Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy, and it took a long while before her blurred vision slowly came into focus. The room was enormous. A massive oil painting hung above the headboard. The ceiling was a solid color, with a recessed ring of hidden lights that were currently turned off. A minimalist chandelier hung in the center, its cold surface reflecting the faint glow spilling out from the bathroom. Dark gray curtains were drawn tightly shut, sealing out all natural light. There was no way to tell whether it was day or night. Danielle sat up. The moment the blanket slipped, she realized she wasn't wearing any clothes. The outfit she had been wearing earlier had been stripped off and tossed carelessly onto the floor. Thankfully, the bed sheets were neat, and aside from the pounding headache, she didn't feel anything else wrong with her body. Danielle leaned forward, about to reach for the clothes on the floor, when a sharp click sounded beside her. The door opened. Someone walked in. Her heart shot straight up into her throat. Danielle clutched the blanket tightly around herself and stared toward the doorway. The figure was backlit, but it was clearly a tall, broad-shouldered man. As he stepped closer, his features came into view. Sharp lines. Cold, severe eyes. It was Jonathan. This was Jonathan's room? The person who dr//ugged her had been sent by Oscar. How did she end up in Jonathan's room? Danielle was completely lost. Jonathan was wearing a well-tailored dark coat over a crisp suit. As he walked in, he casually removed his coat and tossed it onto the sofa. His eyes flicked toward the bed. He froze. There was suddenly someone in his room. His brow furrowed instantly. "Why are you here?" His sharp gaze pinned her in place. Danielle was wrapped in his blanket, her long hair disheveled, her bare shoulders pale against the dark fabric. On the carpet lay her sweater, her jeans, and a set of light-colored underwear, scattered like wilted petals right beside his polished shoes. His throat bobbed. He looked away and took a step to the side. "Danielle." He spoke her name slowly, each syllable cold as ice. "What kind of stunt are you pulling?" "I don't know how I got here either. I only remember being dr//ugged." "Dr//ugged?" "Yes. Could you help me with something—" "No." Jonathan cut her off without hesitation. "Don't even think about it. I don't sleep with married women." Sleep? Turns out when someone is truly speechless, they really do laugh. Even with her head splitting in pain, Danielle let out a short, incredulous chuckle. "Mr. Mitchell, don't misunderstand. I was given a sedative, not an aphrodisiac. And I don't want to sleep with you either." "…" "What I mean is, could you turn around for a moment so I can get dressed?" "…" The silence was painfully awkward. Jonathan pressed his lips into a thin line, then turned around sharply, his back to her. Danielle quickly grabbed her clothes and got dressed. In that brief stretch of quiet, a sudden, violent pounding erupted from the room next door. "Danielle! You b!tch! I knew you couldn't behave yourself! You actually dared to come here and cheat! Open the door! Open it right now!" It was Oscar. "You two cheating pieces of sh!t, get out here!" he roared. "Let me see which asshole dared to touch my wife! Open the door! You shameless cheaters, get out!" Shouting and a woman's shrill screams erupted from the neighboring room. Everything clicked at once. From Emily dr//ugging her, to this so-called public act of catching her cheating, it was all part of Oscar's filthy setup. Somewhere along the line, something went wrong, and she had been sent to the wrong room. Jonathan understood just as quickly. He walked over to the wall shared with the neighboring room and listened for a few seconds. A cold curve tugged at the corner of his lips. "Your husband really went to great lengths," he said lightly, emphasizing the words "your husband," "just to make sure you walk away from the divorce with nothing." Danielle had been married to Oscar for years and had never once felt the kind of partnership where two people rise and fall together. But in this moment, his despicable scheme filled her with a deep sense of shame. And fear. Thank God she'd been sent to the wrong room. Otherwise, at this very moment, she would be standing trial under Oscar's twisted moral high ground. Next door, Oscar soon realized he had caught the wrong people. "What's going on? Where is she? Didn't you say Danielle was cheating in here? Where is she?" The commotion outside paused for a few seconds. "It's this room." "Could they have messed up? Maybe it's next door?" Heavy, angry footsteps moved toward Jonathan's door. Bang. Bang. Bang. Oscar began pounding on the door. Each violent удар landed like a drumbeat against Danielle's ch//est. "Open up! Danielle, get out here! You homewrecker, you s1ut, get out here!" Panic surged through her. Oscar was domineering and relentless. Once he decided to break down a door, he would do it, even if it meant tearing it off its hinges. She could not be caught like this. Absolutely not. Danielle looked up at Jonathan. "Help me," she said softly. Jonathan had been dragged into trouble through no fault of his own. A trace of impatience crossed his brow, but his expression remained calm, almost detached. He didn't answer right away. He made no move to open the door or intervene. He simply looked at her. "Why should I help you?" "I'm in your room right now," Danielle said steadily. "We're in the same boat." "I didn't touch you. I'm not your lover," Jonathan replied casually. "Even if he breaks in, it won't affect me. But you broke into my room without permission. That's a civil violation. It's illegal." The words were like a bucket of ice water dumped over Danielle's head. "Danielle, if you don't come out right now, I'm smashing this door!" Oscar roared. "I'll let everyone see how you've been cheating behind my back!" With no response from inside, Oscar seemed more convinced than ever that she was in the room. On one side was her rabid, abusive husband. On the other was her cold, relentless ex. Danielle felt cornered. Fine. If they were all pushing her, then they'd all go down together. After a brief pause, Danielle suddenly strode up to Jonathan. She rose onto her tiptoes, hooked her arms around his neck, and before he could react, pressed her lips hard against the exposed skin at his neck. Not a fleeting touch. A desperate, all-or-nothing b!te. Jonathan's body went rigid. He could clearly feel the warm, slightly painful pressure at his neck, along with the faint scent clinging to Danielle's skin. This was completely outside anything he had anticipated. "Danielle! Have you lost your mind?" Jonathan shoved her away, but it was too late. A fresh, vivid mark bloomed rapidly against his skin. "You didn't touch me," Danielle said, breathing a little too fast, her cheeks flushed from the force of it. "But I touched you. That makes you my homewrecker now." She met his eyes directly, her lips curling into a defiant, tragic smile. "Jonathan, it's either we get caught together, or you help me. Your choice." Jonathan lifted a hand, his fingertips brushing lightly over the spot she had kissed. "Very well," he said, his voice low, roughened. "Danielle. Bold of you!" 【11407】