Chapter 1 Rescuing A Handsome Man

The night was so quiet, it felt unreal—until a flash of lightning ripped the sky apart, followed by a crack of thunder that shook the walls. Then came the rain, pounding against the windows like it was trying to break in, loud enough to wake the dead.

Violet Maxwell jerked awake, her heart racing, sweat slick on her forehead. She wiped it off and sat up, still groggy, reaching for the cup of water on the table.

The first sip had barely cooled her nerves when a sharp knock broke through the noise of the storm.

She froze. 'Who the hell would be out in weather like this?'

It was her shift at the clinic, sure, but nobody sane would come knocking in the middle of the night—unless it was an emergency.

Setting the cup down, she hurried to the door. The second she cracked it open, a tall figure stumbled forward, collapsing into her.

She caught him just in time, grunting under his weight.

"Hey! You okay? Wake up!" she said, shaking him lightly. No response. Then she noticed the blood soaking his clothes, dripping onto her floor.

Her stomach twisted. 'Shit. This guy's not okay.'

She glanced outside, but the rain was coming down in thick sheets, hiding whatever trouble he'd come from. There wasn't time to think. She dragged him inside.

She had barely laid him down on the bed when a sharp, insistent pounding echoed through the room—this wasn't just a knock. It was a command. "Open up! Now!"

Her gut clenched. Whoever was outside wasn't friendly.

She turned to the man on the bed, unconscious and bleeding, and quickly grabbed a sheet to cover him.

Once he was hidden, she took a deep breath, smoothed her expression, and opened the door.

A group of men stood there, their black suits soaked through, faces hard and mean. The leader, a scarred man with a sharp jawline, stepped forward. "You seen anyone come through here?" he barked, his voice sharp enough to cut.

She tilted her head, her lips curling into a lazy smirk. "Oh, I saw someone, all right."

His brow furrowed. "Where?"

"Can't you see me? I'm right under your nose." Her tone was light, but her eyes gleamed with defiance.

For a moment, the men hesitated, thrown off by her flippant attitude. She leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking more amused than afraid.

The leader's patience snapped. "Enough of this shit. Hand him over, or we'll tear this place apart."

She sighed, as if they were nothing more than an annoyance. "Go ahead and look. Just don't break anything. Unlike you, my stuff's actually worth something."

The man growled an order, and his men pushed past her, storming into the clinic.

She stumbled back, catching herself quickly, her fingers twitching with restrained anger.

For a second, her calm mask cracked, but she forced herself to stay composed.

Trailing after them, she raised her voice, sharp and biting. "Hey! Watch it! That jar's worth more than your entire paycheck. If you break it, you better hope you've got a rich daddy."

The leader wasn't buying her story. His men ransacked the clinic, tearing through every corner, but no matter how hard they looked, they came up empty.

Frustration was written all over their faces, and just as they were about to leave, the leader's sharp gaze landed on a small partition in the hallway.

His expression darkened. Without a word, he shoved Violet out of the way and made a beeline for it.

"Wait!" she called, stepping forward to block him, but he was already too far ahead.

Her hand brushed against a wooden stick lying nearby, and she grabbed it, ready to defend herself.

But before she could act, the leader stormed into the partition and ripped the blanket off the bed with a dramatic flourish—only to reveal nothing but an empty mattress. No man, no body, nothing. Just a bloodstain, dark and ominous, soaking into the sheets.

He turned on her, his eyes blazing with fury. "What the fuck is this? Where is he?"

Violet folded her arms and raised a brow, her lips curling into a faint smirk. "Didn't you just tear this place apart? You see anyone? Come on, this clinic's tiny. If I could hide someone here, I'd be a damn magician."

The leader's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing dangerously. He pointed at the bloodstain. "And this? You think I'm stupid? Explain that."

She let out a laugh—sharp, sudden, and absolutely intentional. "That? Oh, don't tell me you've never met a woman before. What, you think blood only comes from stab wounds? Go ask your girlfriend—assuming you have one."

There was a beat of silence before one of the men behind him snorted. The sound was like a dam breaking, and soon, several of them were chuckling, some even struggling to hold it in.

"Shut the hell up!" the leader barked, his face going red. "What's so damn funny? I said shut it!" He glared at his men until the laughter died out, then turned back to her with a scowl. "He's not far. Move out. Now."

Without waiting for a response, he spun on his heel and marched toward the door, his men scrambling to follow.

Violet leaned casually against the doorframe, her voice dripping with mock politeness. "Leaving already? Don't want to stay for coffee? It's great for a rainy night." As they disappeared into the storm, she glanced around the clinic, her sharp eyes scanning for any signs of lingering danger. Once satisfied they were truly gone, she locked the door, bolted it for good measure, and hurried back to the partition.

Her chest felt tight as she stepped inside. She'd left the man on the bed—not even ten minutes ago. He'd been barely alive, let alone capable of moving. 'So how the hell was he gone?' she wondered.

The second she entered, a cold chill crept down her spine. She didn't have time to react before an icy hand clamped around her neck, squeezing just enough to cut off her air.

Her instincts kicked in immediately. Twisting her body, she broke free with a sharp sidestep and lashed out with her palm. Her strike hit home, landing squarely on her attacker's chest.

He stumbled back with a groan, coughing violently as blood sprayed from his lips.

Violet froze, her eyes widening. It was him—the injured man she'd just saved.

"You... okay?" she asked, her voice cautious but laced with tension.

He didn't answer. His face was pale as a ghost, his clothes soaked and stained with mud and blood. He collapsed to the floor, his chest rising and falling in shallow gasps.

Somehow, she managed to haul him onto the bed, her muscles burning with the effort. Once he was down, she started checking his injuries.

It was bad. He was covered in cuts and bruises, but the worst was the gunshot wound to his shoulder. If she didn't act fast, he wouldn't last the night.

Without hesitation, she grabbed her first aid kit and got to work. Her hands moved swiftly as she tore away his shirt, exposing the wound.

Under the soft light, her face was all focus—sharp, calm, and serious. She handled the tools with a precision that almost felt like magic, her fingers moving so deftly it was mesmerizing.

In no time, the wound was cleaned, stitched, and wrapped.

When his breathing finally steadied, she exhaled in relief. Grabbing a bowl of warm water, she carefully wiped the grime from his face.

And then, she froze.

The man beneath the dirt wasn't just handsome—he was breathtaking. 'What the hell?' she thought, staring.

He looked like he'd walked out of some fantasy, with a face so perfect it didn't seem fair. There was something otherworldly about him, like he was too good for this world. Aloof and untouchable, yet oddly gentle.

Her curiosity got the better of her. 'What kind of eyes does someone like this have?'

She shook the thought away. Saving a gorgeous stranger in the middle of the night? Yeah, this was shaping up to be one hell of a story.

She climbed into her hammock, casting one last glance at the narrow bed where he slept peacefully. Then, exhaustion finally pulled her under.

The next morning, Violet woke to sunlight streaming through the window.

She stretched, hopped out of the hammock, and turned toward the bed—only to stop short. It was empty. The guy was gone.

She blinked, her mind racing. 'How the hell did he just vanish?' For someone that injured, slipping out without making a sound wasn't normal. Definitely not normal.

Still, she shrugged it off. Whatever his deal was, it wasn't her problem. She went about her morning like it was any other day.

The streets were lively after the rain, and vendors called out as she passed.

Just as she started thinking about breakfast, her neighbor came barreling toward her, eyes wide.

"Violet! What are you doing here?" the neighbor practically shouted, out of breath. "Hurry home! There's a whole group of people outside your place! They've got it surrounded—it looks terrifying!"

Violet's stomach dropped, but her expression didn't change. "Got it. I'm heading back."

She rushed home, and the sight stopped her in her tracks. A sleek black Bentley was parked in front of her house, flanked by two Audis. The whole setup screamed trouble.

Her lips curled into a faint, almost amused smile. Without hesitation, she stepped inside. And there he was.

Her breath caught for a moment. That face—it was impossible to forget. Burned into her memory so deeply, it felt like it had always been there.

Chapter 2 Be A Good Girl

Twenty years ago, she should've been just a carefree four-year-old, chasing butterflies and laughing without a care. But instead, life dealt her a brutal hand. Her mother, Regina, was gravely ill, clinging to the last threads of life.

She stayed by her mother's side, doing everything she could to bring her a smile, praying for a miracle.

But life doesn't work that way. And during those dark days, she saw humanity at its worst.

"I'm pregnant with his child," Estelle Parham sneered, throwing a prenatal report onto Regina's frail body. "The doctor says you don't have much time left.

"I'm here to help you let go. Once you're gone, my child will have the family it deserves. Don't worry—I'll take care of your husband and your daughter. Isn't that what a best friend is for?"

Regina lay there, barely alive, unable to fight back. Her lips moved, but the oxygen mask muffled her voice. All she could do was glare at Estelle, tears streaming down her pale cheeks, helpless and broken.

Her eyes darted toward the door, pleading silently for someone—anyone—to help her.

But outside stood only her daughter, Violet, just a child, too small and powerless to stop what was happening.

Lightning flashed outside, illuminating Estelle's face. Twisted with triumph, her smile was cruel, grotesque. Slowly, she reached toward the oxygen mask with one hand, her movements deliberate and cold.

That moment seared itself into Violet's memory, a nightmare she'd relive for the next twenty years.

Sleepless nights only strengthened her resolve: one day, she would make Estelle pay.

After her mother's death, her father, Ray Maxwell, proved himself no better. Cold and selfish, he dumped her at her grandfather's rural home, calling her bad luck and blaming her for ruining his fortune.

Then he vanished, cutting her out of his life without a second thought.

For years, she believed he was gone for good, wiped from her world.

But life loved surprises, and without warning, Ray returned, walking into a space she never thought they'd share again.

"Grandpa!" Violet's voice was steady, but anger simmered just beneath the surface. She forced her fists to unclench, smothering her fury behind a soft smile.

She walked to her grandfather, her attention fixed solely on him, treating the other people in the room as if they were invisible.

Her grandfather, Marshall Blanton, dressed in a clean gray suit, relaxed at the sight of her. His tightly furrowed brow eased, replaced by warmth only she could bring out.

"You're back!" His tone softened, but when he added, "This… is your father," there was no mistaking the reluctance in his voice. He didn't want to say it, but blood ties were hard to deny.

Before Marshall could finish, Ray stood up eagerly, wearing a grin that practically begged for forgiveness. He took a few steps toward Violet, his voice syrupy sweet.

"Violet, it's me—your dad. Do you remember me? Look how much you've grown. It's been so long, hasn't it?" His words dripped with false warmth, as if the years of abandonment had been nothing more than a little misunderstanding.

Violet shot him a frosty glare and slapped his hand away without hesitation. Her voice was cold, sharp as ice. "What the hell are you doing here? This isn't your place, and it never will be."

The tension in the room was suffocating, thick enough to cut with a knife.

Ray didn't flinch. Instead, he plastered on a shameless smile, his tone dripping with fake warmth. "I'm your father. Isn't it natural for me to check on my daughter? But I'm not just here for a visit—I'm here to take you back to the capital. Pack your things. You're coming home."

She raised her head, her gaze cutting through him. Suspicion churned in her gut. 'Ray suddenly caring about me? Not a chance.'

If he'd given a damn about her, he wouldn't have abandoned her twenty years ago. He'd made it clear where she stood back then.

"Home?" She let out a bitter laugh. "This is my home. I've been here for twenty years. What other home do I have? You left me here and never looked back. That's when we stopped being family."

"Don't be like this," Ray said, his tone oozing fake sympathy. "I know you're still angry, but I'm here to make it right. Come with me, and I'll give you anything you want. Isn't that fair?"

Her lips twisted into a mocking smile. "Make it right? My mother's been dead for twenty years. What the hell can you do to make that right?" Her voice dropped, cutting through the air like a knife. "Get out. Don't taint my grandfather's home."

Ray's smile froze, his expression turning cold. "Violet, I've been patient, but don't push me. I'll ask one last time: are you coming with me or not?"

Years in the cutthroat business world had taught him how to break people. If kindness didn't work, force would.

"In your dreams," she shot back without hesitation.

His lips curled into a sinister smile. "Fine. You asked for it."

A flicker of malice crossed his face as he barked, "Grab the old man!"

"Ray Maxwell, don't you dare!" Panic surged in her chest as his men lunged toward her grandfather.

She knew some self-defense, but she wasn't stupid enough to take on a roomful of goons. And her grandfather—he was too old to take even the slightest injury.

She froze as they shoved her grandfather down onto the table, holding him there. Her face paled, but fury burned in her veins. She turned, glaring at Ray. "What the hell do you want?"

"It's simple," he said, his voice smooth and calculating. "Do what I say, and no one gets hurt. You wouldn't want your beloved grandfather to suffer, would you?"

Violet's fists clenched tight, her nails digging into her palms. She knew following him back to Valeria meant walking into the lion's den, but she couldn't she let her grandfather get hurt because of her.

"Don't listen to him, child," Marshall said through gritted teeth. "I'll be fine. Don't give in." Before he could say more, Ray flicked his wrist, and a loud crack rang out. Marshall let out a muffled groan, his face draining of color, sweat pouring down his forehead.

"Stop!" Violet's voice cracked as panic overtook her. She couldn't bear to see her grandfather in pain.

Ray stepped closer, smirking as he grabbed her chin. His grip was firm, his tone mocking. "What's it gonna be, sweetheart? Keep stalling, and next time it won't just be a dislocated arm. Clock's ticking."

Her entire body shook with rage. Her nails cut into her palms, but she didn't feel the pain.

Her mind raced with fury, her thoughts a storm. 'Ray, you're digging your own grave.'

She sucked in a deep breath, her voice trembling as she said, "Fine. I'll go with you."

His grin widened, triumphant. "Good girl." He waved to his men, who released Marshall immediately.

Violet rushed to her grandfather's side, catching him as he sagged against her. She moved quickly, setting his arm with steady hands.

Her grandfather's face was pale with pain, his eyes filled with worry.

She gripped his hand tightly and forced a smile. "Don't worry, Grandpa. I'll take care of myself. If he's so desperate to drag me back, I'll go. But I'll make sure Mom gets the justice she deserves."

After a few soft words of reassurance, she packed a bag and followed Ray out the door.

When they arrived at the Maxwell family mansion, the truth hit her like a punch to the gut. He didn't want her back. He wanted to use her. She was to marry into the Kirkland family for their dying heir.

The Kirkland family was one of the most powerful in Valeria, and Cedric Kirkland was a legend in the business world. He'd built an empire with his own hands, achieved things others could only dream of.

But fate had turned cruel. He was gravely ill, and his days were numbered.

Desperate to save him, the family had tried everything—every treatment, every cure, and now, even a marriage.

There was no time to think, no time to plan. The wedding was set for the next day.

That night, as she sat in the unfamiliar room, Ray strutted in, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "Your grandfather's being well taken care of. Just focus on the wedding tomorrow. And don't screw this up."

His words were like gasoline on a fire, but Violet stayed silent. The moment the door closed behind him, the mask she'd been wearing cracked, and a cold, sharp fury burned in her chest.

Chapter 3 The Wedding Without The Groom

To silence gossip and boost the Kirkland family's prestige, the wedding the next day was ridiculously extravagant. Everything—every last detail—was over the top. From the perfectly coordinated decor to the lavish banquet, to the gown Violet wore, Estelle had thrown an absurd amount of money and effort into the event.

But, naturally, not everyone was thrilled.

Wilda and Elena Maxwell stood off to the side, jealousy simmering under their forced smiles. They watched as Violet sat in the lounge, her custom-made couture gown hugging her like a second skin.

She practically glowed—pure, radiant, and so stunning it almost hurt to look at her. The sisters? For all their careful prep and pretty faces, they were nothing more than props in her shadow.

Elena couldn't take it anymore. She marched over, her lips curling in a sneer. "Violet, do you really think all this fancy shit makes you a lady? Please. You can't wash the stink of the countryside off yourself, no matter how hard you try. Let's not forget—you're the jinx who killed your mother. If Mr. Kirkland wasn't practically on his deathbed, do you think anyone would let a piece of trash like you marry into the Kirkland family? What a joke. Even the leftovers get a lucky day, huh?"

Violet's expression barely shifted, but her eyes darkened, sharp as a blade. Her voice, cold and calm, cut through the air like a whip."On a day like this, you'd think Estelle would've kept her little lapdogs tied up.

"Letting you bark out here like this? Pretty risky—you might scare off the guests."

It took Elena a second to register the insult. Then her face twisted in fury. "Who the hell are you calling a lapdog?"

Violet's tone was casual, almost bored. "Whoever got offended, I guess."

"You fucking bitch!" Elena lunged at her, but Violet quickly grabbed her arm, holding her back.

"Elena, calm down," Wilda said, stepping between them.

Then, flashing Violet a sweet but fake smile, she added, "We're just here to wish you well on your big day, Violet. Congratulations on your marriage."

Violet's cold gaze flicked to Wilda, pinning her in place. Her expression was calm, but her eyes? They burned like ice, cutting through Wilda's mask as if peeling back every hidden thought.

Then, Violet leaned in, her lips curling into a mocking smile. Her voice dropped to a whisper, dripping with disdain. "If this marriage is so great, why don't you take my place?"

Wilda stiffened, her face going pale. She instinctively tried to back away, but Violet's hand shot out, locking around her wrist.

"S-Sister…" Wilda stammered, panic creeping into her voice. "Life is about trade-offs, right? I gave you this chance. If I hadn't stepped aside, you'd still be rotting in the countryside. I saved you. Changed your entire life! Shouldn't you be… grateful? Without me, how could you possibly marry into the Kirkland family? Are you seriously going to hurt the one person who helped you?"

"Helped me?" Violet's laugh was soft, cold, and sharp enough to cut glass. "Should I bow down and thank you for dumping a dying man on me? Maybe grovel a little?"

She stared at Wilda's pitiful expression, fury and disgust simmering in her chest.

This so-called sister had dumped a sick, dying man on her, then had the audacity to act superior, calling herself a "helper."

'This is the Maxwell family's idea of grace and class? What a fucking joke,' she thought.

"You better not try anything!"Wilda snapped, straightening her back and lifting her chin as if she still had the upper hand. "I'm Father's favorite daughter. His only hope. If you dare touch me, he'll never forgive you."

Violet let out a cold laugh, sharp and icy. "You know what I hate most? Being threatened."

Before Wilda could process the words, Violet moved—quick and merciless. Her hand shot out, clamping over Wilda's mouth, followed by a sharp crack.

Wilda's muffled cry of pain filled the room as tears streamed down her face.

She clutched her wrist, which hung limp and twisted unnaturally, staring in disbelief.

Elena shouted, "Wilda, what's going on? Violet, what did you do—"

The door swung open, and Ray and Estelle entered with a group of guests trailing behind them. Ray clapped his hands together, beaming. "Time's running short! Are you all ready? The guests are excited to meet the bride."

The moment his eyes fell on Wilda's tear-streaked face, his smile faltered. "What's going on here?" he asked, his tone hardening.

Violet didn't hesitate for a second. She turned on her best act, wrapping her arms around Wilda in a show of sisterly affection.

Her voice trembled as she dabbed at imaginary tears, forcing a bittersweet smile. "It's nothing, Dad. Sorry for worrying you. We were just talking… sharing some feelings about me leaving. Things got a little emotional, that's all."

She turned to Wilda with a soft, sweet smile, her fingers brushing over Wilda's injured wrist. The pressure was just enough to make Wilda flinch. The message was clear: Keep your mouth shut.

Elena opened her mouth, ready to call Violet out, but Wilda yanked on her sleeve, cutting her off. Sniffling, Wilda forced a smile through her tears. "I'm sorry. I just… I can't bear to see my sister leave so soon. It's my fault for making a fuss."

Elena's eyes widened in disbelief. 'What the hell? Why is she covering for her?'

Ray's gaze flickered between his daughters, his frown deepening. But with the guests watching, he chose not to dig any further. "Alright then," he said, waving dismissively. "Estelle, take the guests outside to prepare for the banquet."

Turning back to his daughters, his expression turned stern. "Today is a big day for our family. All the guests are VIPs, so keep it together. Don't embarrass me. Understand?"

Neither Wilda nor Elena dared to argue. They nodded silently, their anger simmering beneath the surface.

Once the room was clear, Elena rounded on Violet, her voice sharp and full of venom. "You've got some fucking nerve, don't you?"

Violet's smile didn't falter for a second. If anything, it grew brighter. "What can I say? You're both too easy to toy with."

Her gaze darted between the two sisters, as sharp as a blade. "You're the ones who keep telling me I should be grateful, right? Don't worry—I'll be sure to 'repay' you properly."

Her tone was light, almost playful, but the threat in her words was unmistakable. Without waiting for a response, she walked past them, her steps slow and deliberate, like she had all the time in the world.

But the moment her back was turned, Wilda and Elena felt a cold chill run down their spines, making their skin crawl.

Wilda clutched her injured wrist, biting back a hiss of pain.

"Sis, that little bitch is a lot harder to deal with than we thought," Elena muttered, her voice laced with frustration.

Wilda's jaw tightened, her eyes narrowing with rage. "Let her play her games for now. Time is on our side." Her voice was low and full of venom. "Mr. Kirkland's mother isn't someone to mess with. She doesn't even like us—how do you think she'll react to some no-name girl like Violet?

"Mark my words, this bitch is walking straight into her own grave. And when she does, we'll make sure she regrets ever crossing us."

The wedding venue was alive with activity. Guests laughed and chatted, completely oblivious to the storm brewing behind the scenes. But the groom's glaring absence hung over the celebration like a dark cloud.

Standing among the crowd, Violet tilted her head and smiled innocently. "Dad, Mom, it's almost time. Where's the groom? We wouldn't want to keep the guests waiting too long, would we?"

Her voice was soft, sweet, but her words cut like a knife. Ray and Estelle froze, their faces stiffening with embarrassment.

Violet's question wasn't just innocent curiosity—it was a direct jab, a reminder to everyone that the bride was being sold off to a dying man for the sake of profit.

The whispers started immediately. "Selling her off to the Kirkland family just for money? That's cruel. Typical stepmother behavior. Poor girl."

Estelle's face flushed red, then white, her hands trembling as she clenched them into fists. She'd worked so hard to throw a grand, respectable wedding, hoping to hide the truth behind the marriage. But with just a few words, Violet had destroyed everything.

Ray cleared his throat, fumbling for an excuse. "The groom isn't feeling well," he said quickly, his voice a little too loud. "He couldn't make it. Violet, you'll just head over with the wedding procession. The auspicious hour is here—we can't delay any longer. Send the bride out!"

The whispers died down for the moment, but the tension hung heavy in the air. As Violet was guided into the car, Ray exhaled quietly, relief washing over him.

Chapter 4 He's Awake

The luxury wedding car glided forward like a ship, carrying Violet's tangled thoughts toward an unknown future.

The Kirkland family, with its impenetrable wealth and power, and her mysterious, sickly groom—everything about them felt like a puzzle wrapped in layers of secrecy.

Violet forced herself to breathe, smoothing the turmoil in her chest, as she followed the attendant into the opulent bridal chamber at Seraphine Manor.

The room, draped in vibrant reds, screamed celebration, but it couldn't mask the heavy, suffocating air of death surrounding the man she was now tied to.

She'd heard the rumors that Cedric was gravely ill, but seeing him lying unconscious on the bed, too far gone to even show up at his own wedding, was still a shock.

"What's going on?" Violet asked, frowning at the butler.

"Mr. Kirkland has been in a coma for almost three months, ma'am," the butler replied evenly. "Now that you've arrived, his care will be your responsibility."

His words were calm, detached, and left no room for questions. With a slight bow, the butler turned and left, quietly closing the door behind him.

Violet stood there for a moment, stunned. 'Responsibility?' She turned to look at the figure lying on the bed, frustration bubbling beneath her calm exterior.

She walked toward the bed, curiosity now gnawing at her. Everyone had heard of Cedric, but no one seemed to know much about him.

The stories about his life—his appearance, his illness—were more like myths than facts.

As she reached the bed, Violet stopped in her tracks. The man's face was hidden beneath an intricate, silver mask, only his eyes—shut tight—visible beneath long, thick lashes.

'What kind of man has lashes like that?' The thought came unbidden, equal parts amusing and bizarre.

In the city, Cedric's name alone sparked endless gossip. Some said he was devastatingly handsome but too frail to leave his home. Others claimed he wore the mask to hide a monstrous, disfigured face.

The truth? Nobody knew. And now, staring down at him, Violet couldn't help but wonder, 'What kind of man insists on wearing a mask even in a coma?'

Her gaze lingered on the mask, curiosity tugging at her until it became unbearable. "What harm could it do to look?" she muttered.

With that, she reached out, her fingers hovering just above the edge of the mask.

But before she could touch it, the man's eyes snapped open. Violet froze, her hand suspended midair.

A cold, iron grip locked around her wrist, pulling her back sharply. Startled, her eyes darted to his. His gaze was piercing, bottomless like an abyss.

They burned with an intensity that pinned her in place, suffocating and unrelenting.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" His voice was low, cold, and sharp, each word biting like frost.

Violet frowned and instinctively tried to pull her hand free, but his grip didn't budge.

For a moment, she felt like a child caught red-handed, guilt flashing through her mind. But she quickly gathered herself, standing straighter and narrowing her eyes. "I was curious, that's all," she said, her tone defensive but firm. "I just wanted to see what you look like under that mask. Is that so wrong?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, scanning her face as if sizing her up. Then, to her surprise, the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Curious, huh? You've got guts."

"But trust me, you don't want to see what's under this mask. The consequences might be more than you can handle." His voice was calm, almost taunting, but there was an unmistakable edge to it that sent a shiver through her.

At that moment, realization dawned on him. This bold, defiant girl wasn't just some stranger—she was his new bride, the woman his family had pushed onto him.

His grip loosened, and he released her wrist, sitting up with an effortless grace that only amplified the sharpness of his presence.

For the first time, he truly looked at her. And what he saw made him pause. She was stunning. Dressed in her bridal attire, every detail of her appearance was meticulously perfected, yet there was something raw and natural about her beauty that was even more striking.

'Fate's got a strange sense of humor,' he thought, his lips curling into a faint, amused smile.

"I was just curious," Violet said, trying to justify herself.

"Curiosity," Cedric's cold, cutting voice pierced through the silence, "kills the cat."

He took a step forward, slow and deliberate, his eyes locked on her with an intensity that made her breath catch. Something dangerous simmered behind that gaze, something she couldn't quite pin down.

"What are you looking at?" Violet blurted, backing away instinctively. She moved until her back hit the wall.

Trapped, she placed her hands against his chest, trying to create space between them. Her heartbeat was wild, and her unease only grew.

"Take it off yourself," he said, his voice dangerously low, "or should I do it for you?"Before she could respond, his hand slipped around her waist, pulling her close with a firm, effortless motion.

The sudden proximity made her freeze. His breath brushed against her face, warm and steady, while she stood there stiffly, utterly unprepared for the intimacy. Her mind scrambled, but when she finally looked up, she found herself staring straight into his deep, green eyes.

"What… what do you mean?" she stammered, her voice barely steady.

He smirked, a mocking tilt of his lips. "It's our wedding night. What do you think I mean? Ray didn't send you here for fun. Let's not pretend we don't know what step one is—making you mine."

His words hit her like a slap. Her chest tightened as anger surged through her. 'So, this is how he sees me? Just some pawn traded off for money?'

The humiliation lit a fire in her. She shoved him back with all her strength, glaring at him with undisguised fury. "Well, Mr. Kirkland," she snapped, "you don't look like a man on his deathbed at all."

Instead of being angry, Cedric laughed. The sound was low, wicked, and it sent a chill down her spine. His eyes swept over her slowly, deliberately, as though he were sizing her up.

"If you're so doubtful," he said, his voice tinged with teasing cruelty, "I don't mind proving my health… in a more physical way."

Before Violet could react, he moved. In a single swift motion, he scooped her up as if she weighed nothing and tossed her onto the bed. The action left her stunned. Before she could scramble away, he was already on top of her, pinning her down with an almost effortless strength.

"This is what you've been working for, isn't it?" His voice was soft but taunting, his weight pressing her into the mattress. "Why play the innocent act now? Isn't this exactly what you wanted?"

His hands gripped her wrists firmly, and for the first time, Violet felt real fear creep in.

He was supposed to be weak, dying—but the man in front of her was anything but. His strength was overwhelming, raw, and unrelenting.

'What the hell is going on?' she thought, her mind racing. 'Isn't he supposed to be a sickly invalid? Why does he feel like a goddamn predator?'

As she struggled, her mind flashed to a memory—a stormy night, a man she'd saved. His face. His striking, perfect face. And suddenly, the image overlapped with the man in front of her.

Her eyes widened in recognition, and panic kicked in. Without thinking, she raised her knee and aimed for his most vulnerable spot.

Cedric reacted instantly, his hand darting down to block her attack. He smirked, amused at her defiance, but the distraction gave her just enough time to slip free. She scrambled off the bed and darted to the other side, glaring at him as she caught her breath.

"You can't force me," she said, her voice steady despite the chaos in her chest. "I don't care if we're married—without my consent, you're not laying a hand on me. Or do you really not understand the concept of consent, Mr. Kirkland?"

For a second, he just stared at her, silent and unreadable. Then, to her surprise, he chuckled—a low, dangerous sound that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

"Oh? You're refusing me?" His tone was sharp, laced with amusement. "You really think you're in control here?"

She was the first woman to say no to him. He had to admit that he was a little impressed.

'Playing hard to get?' His gaze lingered on her, amused but predatory. It was the oldest trick in the book, but something about her refusal had sparked his interest.

Violet forced herself to take a steadying breath. "Look," she said, her voice calm and even, "we're married, yes, but we just met today. Don't you think we can take things slow? Get to know each other first? After all, we've got time, haven't we? Unless…" Her lips curved into a faint smile. "Unless you're planning on being a short-lived ghost."

That wiped the smirk off his face. His eyes narrowed, his expression darkening as he studied her.

The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Then, a sharp knock shattered the moment.

Cedric stood up smoothly, as though nothing had happened. When the door opened, the butler froze, his eyes wide with shock. "You're… awake?" the butler stammered, almost dropping the tray in his hands.

The news spread like wildfire through the estate. Lights blazed in every corner of the Kirkland family mansion. Cedric—comatose for three months—had woken up on his wedding night.

In an instant, Violet's status transformed. The girl who had been looked down on for her humble origins was now celebrated as the family's "lucky charm" and the savior of Cedric's life.

The household buzzed with excitement well into the night. If not for Cedric's icy glare scattering the servants, they might have celebrated until dawn.

Later, when the noise had finally died down, Violet met her mother-in-law for the first time. Vanessa Kirkland, elegant and cold, swept into the room with an air of superiority. Her sharp eyes fixed on Violet with thinly veiled disdain.

After all, if it weren't for her son's health, there was no way she would've let a country girl like Violet marry into the prestigious Kirkland family.

But now that her son was awake, Vanessa's mind was already working. 'So, what use is this girl anymore?'

Turning to the butler, Vanessa added, "Prepare the guest room next to the master bedroom. The young Mrs. Kirkland can sleep there tonight."

The butler hesitated, clearly taken aback. A new bride being sent to sleep separately on her wedding night? It was unheard of.

Violet, however, kept her composure. Her gaze swept over Vanessa, studying her.

'So this is my mother-in-law,' she thought. 'And it seems she's not wasting any time putting me in my place.'

Chapter 5 Come Back Together

Living apart was exactly what Violet wanted, but hearing Vanessa bring it up left a sour taste in her mouth.

Vanessa, sharp-eyed and commanding, fixed her gaze on Violet and said in a tone that brokered no debate, "Violet, you don't have any objections, do you? Your father told me you've studied some traditional medicine while in the countryside. You know Cedric's just barely recovered—his health's still shaky. Right now, he needs peace and rest more than anything."

She smiled as she stepped closer, patting Violet's shoulder in a way that felt more condescending than comforting. "You're a smart girl, aren't you? Thoughtful, considerate. You understand what's best for everyone.

"You two are newlyweds—there's plenty of time ahead to be all lovey-dovey. What's the rush?"

Violet nodded lightly, her voice calm and obedient. "Of course, Vanessa. Whatever you say."

Vanessa's smile deepened with satisfaction. At least this girl knew when to play along.

If Violet had dared to push back, Vanessa would've shown her no mercy. In her mind, if it weren't for that convenient horoscope match, Violet wouldn't even have qualified to marry into the Kirkland family.

Too plain, too average—Vanessa had made her peace with it, but just barely.

Vanessa turned to her son with a softened expression. "Make sure you rest," she reminded him before heading for the door.

She paused as if suddenly remembering something, then glanced back at Violet. "Tomorrow's your visit back home. I'll have the gifts prepared, and Cedric will go with you.

"We can't have people gossiping that the Kirkland family doesn't know how to show respect. Get some sleep."

Violet kept quiet, but she knew Cedric's temper well enough. The thought of him going through the motions of a family visit seemed ridiculous. Still, she had to go.

Her grandfather couldn't stay trapped under her father's control any longer, held hostage as leverage over her. Tomorrow, she'd put an end to it.

She turned, intending to tell Cedric she could handle it alone, but all she saw was his cold, retreating figure heading upstairs.

For a moment, she wondered. This man—rich, brilliant, and so unreadable—but also icy, temperamental, and impossible to please.

'Who the hell could stand being married to someone like that?' She shook her head, exhaling a soft sigh. 'If I want peace, I'd better just steer clear of him as much as I can.'

The next morning, Violet packed up and was about to leave when she felt a presence behind her.

She turned to see Cedric standing there. Without a word, he took the gift box from her hands and tossed it into the trunk.

She blinked in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

He didn't reply. His face was calm, almost too calm, which Violet now recognized as a warning sign. Thinking quickly, she stepped forward. "It's fine, really. I can go back by myself. You don't have to trouble yourself."

His gaze snapped to hers, sharp as a knife, and his voice dropped several degrees. "Trouble myself? What, am I such an embarrassment that you don't want to be seen with me?"

Violet froze. The frost in his tone hit harder than the words themselves. For a moment, she wondered what really lay beneath his cold, impassive mask.

Realizing she'd hit a nerve, she quickly waved her hands. "No, no, it's not like that. You've just been unwell, and I was worried the trip might wear you out."

Cedric let out a low scoff, the corner of his mouth curling in a humorless smirk. "Worried about me? Since when does a married woman visit her family alone? You want everyone in the city to laugh at the Kirkland family? "

Violet felt the tension spike. No matter what she said, it seemed to set him off.

She hadn't even wanted him to come, but now it felt like she was somehow in the wrong for suggesting it.

Looking at his stubborn, unrelenting expression, she sighed inwardly. There was no reasoning with him now.

"Get in!" Cedric pulled the car door open, giving her a glance so cold it could freeze water. Not a shred of warmth in his eyes.

Violet knew better than to argue, so she climbed in without a word.

The ride was dead silent. Violet turned her face toward the window, closed her eyes, and pretended to nap—anything to escape the suffocating tension between them.

When the car stopped in front of the Maxwell family's villa, they got out one after another. Just as they were about to enter, Cedric's phone rang.

"Go take it. I'll head inside first," Violet said quickly, seizing the opportunity.

Cedric gave a short nod, picking up the call as he walked off a few steps.

As soon as he was gone, the pressure that had been weighing on Violet lifted.

She could finally breathe. That man didn't even have to say a word—just being near him was enough to smother her. The whole ride had felt like she was walking on a tightrope.

At the front door, Violet reached for the doorbell. But before her finger could touch it, the door creaked open.

Elena stood on the other side. Her eyes landed on Violet, standing alone, and her lips curled into a mocking smirk.

"Well, well. Look at this! Violet, the lonely little bride, showing up all by herself," Elena sneered, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Her glee was palpable. That grand wedding Violet had just had? It had been a slap in Elena's face, a constant reminder of everything she'd never have.

She then added,"Doesn't matter how over-the-top your wedding was or how much money was spent—it doesn't change what you are. Trash is trash. Do you really think you're worthy of any of it?"

Elena let out a sneer and, without even asking, snatched the gift box from Violet's hands. The greed in her eyes was practically glowing.

But Violet didn't even flinch. Elena wasn't worth her energy. To Violet, she was nothing more than an irrelevant clown.

Her only concern right now was her grandfather's safety. She scanned the hallway but saw no sign of Ray.

"Where's Dad?" Violet asked, her tone flat.

"What's the matter? Here to snitch on me?" Elena folded her arms and smirked. "Don't forget—you only got into the Kirkland family because of me and my sister. Maybe try showing a little gratitude, huh?"

Violet gave her a long, cold look, as if Elena were nothing more than an annoying fly. "Move."

Elena's face twisted with anger. "Oh, look at you now! Acting all high and mighty just because you married into the Kirkland family. Who do you think you are, barking orders at me in my house? Think you're untouchable now?"

Violet's patience thinned, her gaze turning icy. 'Typical Estelle spawn. Dumb and petty.'

The commotion quickly drew Estelle and Wilda over. Both women looked ready to back Elena up, their expressions a mix of disdain and false concern.

When Estelle spotted Violet standing there alone, a mocking smile spread across her face. "Oh, Violet. Looks like your little 'lucky bride' trick didn't work, huh? Showing up all alone already? So, how's married life? How's Cedric treating you?"

Pretending to care, she added with a sigh, "Poor thing. What can you expect from a man who's practically on his deathbed?"

Elena jumped in, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Mom, let's be real—he doesn't need to get better. She's screwed either way. Won't be long before she's a widow. And with how picky the Kirkland family is, I bet she won't last there more than a couple of months."

Estelle laughed, clearly enjoying herself. "That's just life, Violet. Sometimes you just have to accept your fate. But don't worry—if the Kirkland family tosses you out after Cedric's gone, I might just take pity on you and help you get by. You're welcome."

She'd been worried for a moment that the "lucky bride" nonsense might actually work, that Cedric might recover, giving Violet both status and power in the Kirkland family.

But now, it was clear that all of it was just wishful thinking.

'Regina couldn't take me down when she was alive, and her daughter? She's just as pathetic.' The thought made Estelle grin, her mood instantly lifting.

Violet's lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. "You're really that eager for something to happen to Cedric, aren't you?"

"Eager? Please," Elena scoffed. "It's just reality. Everyone knows he doesn't have much time left. But hey, if you're smart, you'll start begging us now.

"My mom might even help you find another rich guy. Of course, you'd have to kneel first. Maybe throw in a thank-you while you're at it."

"And who the hell do you think you are, asking my wife to beg you?" The icy voice cut through the air like a blade.

Everyone froze, turning toward the source of the voice. Standing not far away was Cedric, his piercing gaze colder than frost, his entire presence radiating danger.

Violet's heart skipped a beat. She spun around, her eyes landing on him.

'When the hell did he get back? And how much did he hear?' she thought, her heart skipping a beat.

Chapter 6 She's My Wife

The moment Cedric appeared, it was like someone hit mute on the world. Everything went dead silent.

The Maxwell sisters stood there, frozen, staring at him like deer caught in headlights. He stood tall and unwavering, his presence commanding the entire space. Even with the mask concealing his face, his piercing gaze and air of authority made it impossible to look away.

'Is this really the mysterious heir of the Kirkland family—Cedric?' they wondered.

It had to be. After all, he'd just said it himself: Violet was his wife.

Elena swallowed hard, nervously fidgeting with Wilda's sleeve.

'This guy? Seriously? Broad shoulders, oozing charisma, practically radiating power—and he's supposed to be Violet's 'sickly' husband?' she wondered.

She blinked in disbelief. 'Weren't the rumors all doom and gloom? Wasn't he supposed to be on his damn deathbed?'

But with that deep, commanding voice and the energy he radiated, he didn't look or sound like someone clinging to life.

Even with the mask hiding most of his face, the sisters couldn't stop staring. That voice, that posture, that undeniable presence—it was all too much.

They couldn't help but wonder: just how devastatingly good-looking must he be under that mask?

Before they could process what was happening, Cedric stepped forward. In one smooth motion, he slid his arm around Violet's waist, pulling her into him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

His grip was firm, protective, and possessive. Together, they looked like something out of a fairy tale—a picture-perfect couple.

It was Estelle who snapped out of it first. She rushed forward, her face plastered with an awkward smile. "Violet, and this gentleman is...?"

Her voice was friendly enough, but her eyes were sharp, desperate for confirmation.

Cedric glanced down at Violet, his eyes softening slightly, waiting for her to speak.

"This is Cedric, the third young heir of the Kirkland family," Violet said simply, keeping her tone calm.

But Cedric clearly wasn't satisfied. His brow furrowed slightly, and without a word, his arm tightened around her waist, pulling her even closer.

Violet stiffened at the unexpected gesture, but with all eyes on her, she had no choice but to smile awkwardly.

Cedric leaned in, his voice low and teasing as he murmured near her ear, "Am I really that insignificant to you?"

Startled, Violet looked up at him, confused, wondering what she'd said wrong.

But Cedric didn't wait for an answer. His voice dropped into a steady, authoritative tone as he addressed the room. "I'm Violet's husband. Her lover. Cedric."

Earlier, he'd taken a call that tipped him off about the ridiculous show happening at the Maxwell family's house. So, this was why she had married him—a substitute bride, a pawn in the Maxwell family's little game.

But honestly, he didn't care. This arrangement worked just fine for him.

Violet, meanwhile, assumed he was just putting on a show to protect the Kirkland family's reputation. So, she went along with it, smiling politely, playing her part.

But the Maxwell sisters weren't as composed. When Cedric personally confirmed his identity—emphasizing the word lover—it hit them like a slap to the face. Jealousy flared in their eyes, raw and impossible to hide.

Estelle immediately plastered on a smile, her voice syrupy sweet as she gestured for them to sit.

"Violet should've explained earlier," she said, forcing a smile. "When we saw her come back alone, we thought… well, you know. But of course, the Kirkland family would never be disrespectful. It's all just a misunderstanding on our part! Quickly, bring some coffee for Mr. Maxwell! Hongyi will be thrilled when he hears you're here."

Her tone was warm, her words smooth, but every bit of it felt fake. That forced kindness only made Violet's stomach churn.

When Estelle reached out to take her hand, Violet stepped back sharply, her rejection obvious.

Just then, Violet looked up and locked eyes with Ray, who was coming down the stairs. "Violet, when did you get back? Why didn't you come up and let me know?"

The Maxwell family truly excelled at putting on a show. Ray's hypocrisy ran deep, his fake warmth more polished than most. A flicker of shock crossed his face when he saw Cedric, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by a welcoming smile as he descended.

"So, this must be Mr. Cedric Kirkland! Wonderful! I always knew you two were meant to be. Seeing you now, all I can think of are the words 'destined to be.' Please, sit, sit!"

Even though Cedric was now technically family, Ray still didn't dare address him casually, keeping his tone deferential.

After the obligatory greetings, everyone took their seats in the living room.

Violet sat quietly, her cold gaze taking in the whole performance. Fake smiles, fake warmth—the entire act was so overdone it was almost laughable.

Soon, a pot of coffee was brought in, and Estelle's attention was locked on Cedric, her eagerness almost comically obvious. The room was suffocating with awkwardness.

"Dad, I need to speak with you. Alone," Violet suddenly said, shattering the tension.

The only reason she was back was because of her grandpa.

Ray froze for half a second, clearly caught off guard by her bluntness, but he quickly masked it with a light laugh. "Of course. Let's talk in my study. Mr. Kirkland, please relax and make yourself at home."

"You'll wait here for me," Violet said to Cedric, her tone steady and firm.

"Alright," Cedric replied with a small nod, his expression unreadable.

Without another word, Violet turned and followed Ray upstairs. As they disappeared, the silence in the living room grew heavier.

Cedric sipped his coffee calmly, unfazed, while Estelle sat awkwardly, her forced smile fading as she tried to think of something to say.

In the shadows, the Maxwell sisters exchanged a look, their thoughts practically written across their faces.

A man like Cedric—powerful, untouchable, and magnetic—was the kind of prize that could ruin sisters. Even if they couldn't marry him, just getting a moment with him would make the risk worthwhile.

"This time, I'm not holding back," Wilda said with a sly grin.

"No need to share. Let's see who does better," Wilda replied. The sisters smirked at each other before retreating to their rooms, each determined to win.

In the study, the air was heavy with tension.

Violet wasted no time cutting to the chase. "I did what you asked. I married into the Kirkland family. Now, where's Grandfather? When are you going to let him go?"

Ray leaned back in his chair, lighting a cigar with deliberate ease. Smoke curled lazily around him as he exhaled, a smug smile creeping onto his face. "Always in such a hurry, Violet.

"Relax. Getting your grandfather back isn't hard—it just depends on how cooperative you are."

Violet's patience was already thin, and his response made her tone sharpen. "What do you mean?"

Ray's smirk deepened. "You're smart, Violet. Don't play dumb. You didn't marry into the Kirkland family just for love, now did you? The company's struggling, and as my daughter, you've got a duty to support us.

"Cedric clearly favors you—getting him to step in should be a piece of cake. With the Kirkland family backing us, the company will thrive, and your grandfather can live out his days in peace. Simple, isn't it?"

Violet didn't even blink before replying, her voice sharp and firm. "You want me to ask Cedric for help? Forget it. That was never part of the deal."

Ray's tone darkened, the edge in his voice unmistakable. "Don't test me, Violet. I'd rather not play the villain, but don't think I won't if I have to. Here's the deal: either get Cedric to help, or handle Mr. Page yourself. It's your choice."

Violet's anger bubbled to the surface, her hands curling into fists. "Ray, when have you ever treated me like your daughter?" Her voice trembled, not with fear, but with barely contained rage.

She already knew he was cold and calculating, but hearing it said out loud still cut deep. 'How could Mom have ever fallen for a man like him?' she thought bitterly.

"You're a good daughter," Ray replied mockingly, his smirk as sharp as a blade. "I know you wouldn't want to see your mother's hard work go to waste."

The cruelty in his words made her blood boil. Her fingers tightened around a heavy ashtray on the desk, the urge to throw it at him almost overwhelming.

But she couldn't. Not yet. There was too much at stake, too much still left to do.

Taking a slow, deep breath, Violet forced herself to stay calm. Her voice was cold, detached. "Send me Mr. Page's information."

Ray leaned back, clearly pleased with her answer. "Good. I'll be waiting for your good news."

Violet gave him a faint smile, one that didn't reach her eyes. What kind of "news" he'd get was another matter entirely.

As she left the study, Violet headed toward the stairs, ready to find Cedric and leave this place behind. But as she approached the landing, she froze.

Chapter 7 Put On A Show

Downstairs, Wilda and Elena flanked Cedric, practically showering him with attention. Their dainty voices made Violet shiver with goosebumps just listening to them.

It was amazing how quickly they had changed outfits.

Wilda crouched in front of Cedric, pouting as she poured him some coffee. "Cedric," she called out softly.

The cup dangled in mid-air, and Cedric remained motionless like a statue.

Wilda was starting to feel the burn in her legs from holding this position. She huffed and looked up at him, "Cedric, do you not like the coffee I made?

"What just happened was totally a misunderstanding. We sisters are really close, and we were just joking around."

Elena, not to be outdone, wore a flirty short skirt and, with a playful bounce, practically launched herself at Cedric. "Yeah! We were just messing around with Violet. Don't be mad at us, okay?"

The sweet voice from downstairs made Violet wonder if those two were possessed.

Fortunately, Cedric managed to react just in time and jumped up to avoid Elena.

Elena landed hard on the sofa, her face smashing into the cushions. When she finally sat up, her makeup was all over the place, leaving a colorful smear on the couch.

Wilda chuckled, rushing over with her coffee, but before she could say a word, Cedric snapped, "Get out!"

The suddenness of his command made Wilda jump, and she spilled hot coffee all over herself. She gasped in pain as the fancy cup clattered to the floor, shattering into pieces.

Tears welled up in Wilda's eyes as she glanced at Cedric, trying to understand what she'd done to deserve such a harsh response. Cedric shot her a sharp glare that made it clear he was done with this whole scene.

"Not coming down yet?" he asked icily, his gaze freezing Violet in place.

Violet could sense that sticking around any longer would only stir up more trouble, so she hurried downstairs, putting on an act of surprise. "What's going on down here?"

Wilda was both upset and furious, but seeing the smug look on Violet's face only made things worse. She couldn't let anyone think she was useless, so she simply bowed her head and bit her lip, opting for silence.

Elena was practically fuming now, her face looking like a canvas filled with unspoken frustrations.

Violet couldn't contain her laughter anymore and teased, "Elena, seriously, where did you take your painting class? Using your face as a color palette? That's such a unique style. I really don't get it."

"You! How dare you laugh at me!" Elena shot back, her patience snapping as she stomped her foot, ready to confront Violet.

Violet smirked and added, "Stop stomping, or that makeup of yours is going to start crumbling off."

Elena's expression went sour as she considered charging at Violet, but just then, Cedric shot her a cold glare. She gulped, fear creeping in, and quickly stumbled back onto the sofa, not daring to make another move.

At that moment, Estelle heard the commotion and rushed over, asking, "What's happening here?"

Noticing Cedric's frosty demeanor, she softened her tone. "Okay, what's going on? You two, spill it." She turned to Violet, expecting her to explain.

But Cedric interjected with a chill in his voice, "So, is this how the Maxwell family teaches its daughters? To steal each other's man? I'd like some clarification, Mrs. Maxwell, on why these two were hitting on their sister's husband."

He held Violet's hand as he spoke. "Fortunately, Vi saw everything unfold. Or how could I ever prove myself innocent?"

This sudden closeness made Violet freeze. She'd never had any guy hold her hand before, and the sudden warmth made her feelings all jumbled.

Cedric's voice was cool but oddly comforting, leaving her feeling a bit swoony for a second there.

Estelle was stunned, realizing her daughters were being so reckless. They had made such a mess in a short time.

"Mr. Kirkland, this is all a misunderstanding! A total misunderstanding!" Estelle exclaimed, flustered. "These two are just super outgoing. It's not what you think at all."

Cedric's voice cut through the air like ice. "Are you saying I wronged them about what just happened?"

His presence loomed, making Estelle gulp nervously. She stuttered, unsure of how to clear up this mess.

Ray burst in, took a look at Wilda and Elena, and shouted, "What a disgrace! Get upstairs and think about what you've done!"

Elena stared at Ray, shocked. She had no idea Ray would lose it over Violet. "But Dad—"

"Why are you still here? Up you go!"

Wilda and Elena froze, tears brimming in their eyes. Glancing at Estelle, who was silent, they forced themselves to head upstairs, filled with frustration.

Ray chuckled lightly. "Sorry, Mr. Kirkland. My girls are acting up and don't seem to get the rules. I'll make sure to set them straight. Sorry to have given you a show. Let's get back to our coffee!"

"No, thanks!" Cedric shot back. "Vi and I have things to do, so we'll be on our way."

Before Ray could even react, Cedric was already leading Violet out the door. Ray and Estelle trailed behind to see them off.

Estelle asked, "Why don't you stay for lunch before you go?"

The only response was the sound of a car engine roaring to life. The black McLaren sped off, leaving Estelle and Ray in a cloud of exhaust.

Estelle turned to Ray, ready to explain, but he grunted, "Look at the fine daughters you've raised!"

Fuming, Estelle watched Ray storm off. What she couldn't wrap her head around was why Cedric was so protective of Violet.

'Didn't he see the potential in my two amazing daughters?' she thought.

In the car, Cedric drove smoothly. The silence between him and Violet felt heavy. He casually turned on some music and cleared his throat. "What do you feel like eating?"

Violet hesitated, glancing at him. "I'm easygoing about it."

"Is this how they've always treated you?"

Cedric wasn't naive. Even without knowing the ins and outs of the Maxwell family, the earlier scene gave away that Violet didn't hold much status there.

'Was that why she was living in the country? But she definitely doesn't come off as someone from a poor background,' he pondered.

Violet forced a faint smile. "I'm used to it, and I'm not expecting them to be nice to me."

"So, who do you want to be nice to you?" Cedric asked, his tone light, but the conversation hit an awkward pause.

Violet blinked at him, momentarily speechless.

She had been living with her grandfather for so long that she'd grown accustomed to being on her own and hadn't really considered needing anyone else.

The tense silence was broken again by a cool voice. "If you ever run into trouble, just let me know."

Cedric meant it in a way Violet didn't quite grasp. She nodded absentmindedly, not really internalizing what he said. She could handle her own affairs.

The car pulled to a stop, and Cedric opened the door for her with that gentlemanly touch. But Violet didn't reach out to hold his arm, which made Cedric frown slightly.

"You really don't have an ounce of self-consciousness as Mrs. Kirkland, do you?" he asked.

Chapter 8 Over The Meal

Violet was completely taken aback. Before she could even process what was happening, Cedric took her hand and placed it on his arm. It hit her—this was what he had been talking about.

"There's no one else around, so no need for the show," she said.

'Wait, does she really think everything between us is just an act?' Cedric frowned while thinking, debating whether or not to set her straight.

At that moment, Violet felt her heart skip a beat under his scrutinizing gaze, and instinctively, she took a step back. "What did I say that was wrong?"

"When did I ever say that our marriage is an act?" Cedric asked.

'Wasn't that what it was?' Violet stared blankly at Cedric, trying to figure out his point.

But he didn't wait for her to respond. Instead, he took her delicate hand and guided her into the restaurant.

It was clear that the mask Cedric wore was a huge part of his identity. If anyone spotted someone in a mask around Valeria, they'd immediately think of Cedric Kirkland himself.

The waitstaff stared at Cedric like he was a monster, totally shocked. They had heard he was on his last legs, yet now, he was out for dinner with a woman.

When Cedric pulled out his black card, the waiter quickly snapped out of his reverie and gestured for them to come in with the utmost respect.

"Is there anything you don't eat?" Cedric asked Violet.

"Not really. I just tend to avoid ordering," she replied.

Cedric caught her drift and made sure to order for her. The waiter took their order, visibly nervous, and nearly bolted the moment he was done, clearly intimidated by Cedric's strong presence.

Violet glanced around the room, only to catch Cedric watching her. "Mr. Kirkland, is there something on your mind?" she asked.

"I thought there was something you wanted to share with me," he replied.

"Not really. I'm just an unloved daughter in the eyes of the Maxwell family. Honestly, their opinions don't bother me, so you don't have to worry about it either. If you're not comfortable, I can handle things on my own next time. I won't take up your time."

Judging by his state right now, Violet thought there should be a next time.

As a doctor, Violet was genuinely intrigued about what was happening with Cedric.

Rumors were swirling that he was incurably ill. All she noticed now was a guy in great spirits.

She didn't think it was because of the "good luck" she supposedly brought him—she was a materialist and didn't buy into that nonsense.

"Is that all?" That wasn't what Cedric wanted to hear from Violet.

She gave him a puzzled look, unsure if there was more she should say.

Underneath his mask, he frowned slightly. 'This woman is a master at concealing things. If I hadn't already had someone dig into the situation, I wouldn't have picked up on all the layers she's hiding,' he mused.

Being pressured by her father to marry a dying man must have been tough on her heart. But for the sake of her grandfather, she had to make some compromises and keep her feelings completely in check—she really was something.

If he wasn't mistaken, their earlier conversation—father to daughter—had to be about her grandfather.

Knowing Ray's character, it wasn't easy for him to get connected with the Kirkland family, and to make Violet fall in line, he certainly wouldn't easily release Marshall from his grip.

Cedric tried to drop hints that Violet could reach out for help if she needed it. But still, she was playing it cool, as if nothing was amiss. He was curious to see just how long she could keep up that act.

"I hope you'll remember your role clearly moving forward. Now that you're my wife, you should embrace that identity. In moments like today, you should step up and deal with those unwanted women yourself—that's your right."

Violet raised an eyebrow playfully. "Do I really have that right? I thought you were enjoying yourself."

"Enjoying myself? When?!"

With a mischievous grin, Violet responded, "From now on, I'll take some initiative. But honestly, didn't you handle it just fine? It seemed a bit extra for me to jump in. I actually enjoyed watching from the sidelines."

"Is that being lazy or generous?" he teased.

"Why not both? Next time, I promise I'll flex my power a bit more."

She had just known Cedric for two days and didn't quite get his vibe. If he wasn't into nosy people, and she stepped in uninvited and got shot down, that would be so embarrassing.

Violet couldn't help but think that she really needed to step up her game as a wealthy wife.

"In the future, you'll have that right. Remember! You're Mrs. Kirkland now. Don't hold back against anyone who tries to take what's yours.

"If things go south, I've got your back," he said, sounding like he was lecturing her. But to Violet, it meant something else entirely.

'Is he really offering his support?' she wondered. This was the first time anyone had ever said something like that to her. She looked up, her lips curling into a smile. "Thank you."

'Cedric seems cold and distant, but he isn't so hard to get along with after all. Maybe we could actually find a way to coexist peacefully,' she thought.

During the meal, while one of them was all about elegance, the other was just enjoying the food.

Cedric was used to women who were all prim and proper around him, each one trying to be as elegant as possible.

But Violet was different. She wasn't pretentious. She just ate without all the fuss. It made Cedric's appetite feel a bit better.

Violet stole glances at him from time to time, thinking how nice he looked when eating. If only he weren't wearing that mask. She'd love to see his face. She wondered if he was good-looking.

His hands were well-structured, with broad palms and long fingers. They looked solid and warm.

She couldn't help but smile, but when she caught Cedric looking at her, she quickly stopped. "What are you staring at me for?"

"What's got you so happy?" he asked.

Violet felt her cheeks heat up as she stammered, "Oh, nothing! The food here is just really good. I'm just in a good mood."

"Is that so?"

Not daring to meet his gaze, Violet felt like a kid caught in the act, focusing on her plate and avoiding his eyes.

Their first meal had been a whirlwind of emotions. As they stepped out of the restaurant, Cedric asked if there was anywhere she wanted to go.

Violet shook her head vigorously. All she wanted was to head back and have some quiet time to herself. "I just want to go home and relax," she said.

Cedric wanted to go shopping with her because Violet was dressed simply—nothing like the stylish women he was used to.

She was set on going back to unwind, so Cedric respected her wishes. "Alright, let's head back."

Once they were at Seraphine Manor, Violet rushed upstairs without watching her steps. Just as she was about to trip, Cedric reacted quickly and caught her.

In a twist of fate, they both ended up tumbling onto the couch, with Vi landing right against Cedric. They froze for a moment, caught off guard by the close proximity.