Four Loveless Years, One Unforgettable Goodbye

After vanishing for thirty-six hours, Willa finally returned to Serenity Villa—drawn back by Bryan's relentless threats.

Her complexion was ghostly pale, lips drained of color. Alyssa hurried to place a steaming bowl of soup in front of her.

"Mrs. Scott, Mr. Scott said he'll be home tonight," Alyssa murmured gently. "I've got a delicious soup simmering on the stove. When evening comes, you can share it with him."

What Alyssa didn't mention was that she'd secretly stirred an aphrodisiac into the broth.

Having served the Scott family for more than ten years, she'd seen the couple drift further apart and quietly wished Willa would conceive soon—it might keep her place in the household secure.

But Willa barely seemed to hear Alyssa. Her gaze was unfocused, thoughts miles away.

When Bryan returned that night, the first thing he saw was Willa slumped over the table, her face nearly touching the soup.

"Feeling guilty and hiding from me now?" he demanded icily as he stalked forward, his palm slamming down on the table with a sharp crack that rang out across the silence.

Willa didn't flinch. "If anyone should have a guilty conscience, it's you. If you can show your face without shame, why shouldn't I?"

His eyes narrowed to slits, contempt curling his lips. "Don't do anything like this just to get my attention again. That night was a mistake. Stop entertaining delusions and start acting like the wife you're supposed to be."

She had always known he was cold by nature, but hearing him dismiss her years of devotion so easily made something knot painfully in her chest. The humiliation burned, yet she swallowed it down.

Without a word, she slipped the coat from his shoulders, folded it neatly over the chair, and retreated to the kitchen. Soon, the faint aroma of butter and garlic filled the air as she plated a simple serving of spaghetti and set it on the dining table.

"Eat while it's still warm," she said quietly. "I'm heading to bed. We'll visit Cody later this week, and I'll go along with your plans."

She didn't wait for his answer—just turned and disappeared down the hall, her footsteps fading into silence.

Bryan's eyes followed her retreating figure, his brow creasing. Even now, she endured everything in silence—never arguing, never fighting back, no matter how harshly she was treated.

The spaghetti had been handmade by her. Yet the moment he tasted it, he spat it out in disgust.

His expression darkened—of all things, she had added cilantro, the one flavor he loathed most.

By the time Jarrod's call came through, the bitterness still lingered on his tongue.

"Speak!" Bryan snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut glass.

For a split second, Jarrod stiffened, caught off guard. "Mr. Scott, we've caught the driver."

Bryan gave a low grunt of acknowledgment.

Drawing a steadying breath, Jarrod rushed on. "He was half-starved and spilled everything. It was… it was your mother, Mrs. Caitlin Scott, who had ordered him to take your wife to a hotel and arranged for someone to rape her to smear her name for good."

Inwardly, he couldn't make sense of it. Caitlin had never shown Willa much kindness, but this level of cruelty was beyond reason. It was downright vicious!

Bryan's lips curved into a cold sneer.

By Saturday evening at eight, he brought Willa back to Scott Mansion.

The moment they stepped inside, she slipped seamlessly into her dutiful act. She knelt beside Cody and massaged his legs, chatting with him in a practiced sweetness that made the old man laugh from ear to ear.

Caitlin kept her temper in check under Cody's watchful eyes. Ever since the driver's escape, unease had made her tread carefully around Bryan.

"I'll see if the kitchen needs a hand. Bryan, you and Willa haven't stayed the night here in ages—keep your grandpa company," she said, already edging toward the door.

Bryan's lips curved into a sharp smirk. "With so many household staff here, I don't see why you have to offer a hand. It seems like you're trying to avoid me."

The mask Caitlin wore slipped, her expression hardening in a blink. "Oh, dear, do you really have to sound so furious?"

Were it not for Cody's frail health, Bryan would've made her pay dearly. Still, he intended to remind her where her place was.

Not long after, Caitlin's phone rang—her father, Steven Lloyd, on the line. His voice trembled with anxiety. The Scott family had abruptly pulled hundreds of millions in investment, and he demanded to know what was going on.

Her stomach sank. She knew exactly why. Rage flickered in her eyes, but she bit her tongue, forcing the frustration down.

That evening, she skipped dinner, pressing a hand to her chest and claiming discomfort before retreating to her room.

Saul Scott, Bryan's father, questioned Bryan after dinner, his voice tight with restrained irritation. "What did you do to upset your mother?"

Bryan leaned back, unbothered. "Maybe she's guilty of something and can't bear to face anyone, so she's hiding behind an excuse."

Across the room, servants bustled about clearing dishes while Willa sat quietly in the living room, carefully peeling an orange for Cody. Saul's eyes flicked toward the scene before returning to Bryan, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his composure.

"What exactly are you implying?" he demanded in a measured tone.

Bryan's lips curved faintly. "Nothing serious. Just suggesting you keep your partner in check before she crosses the line. I've been under pressure lately. My coping mechanism is to lash out at people."

Saul's heart gave a sharp jolt. Bryan showed none of a son's respect toward Caitlin. Was it because he knew she wasn't his biological mother? Back then, circumstances forced him to part ways with Bryan's mother and wed Caitlin instead.

For more than twenty years, he kept that truth buried. Yet lately, he'd noticed the frost in Bryan's tone whenever Caitlin's name came up.

A plate of neatly peeled oranges appeared before Bryan.

He was fastidious—if the tiniest trace of that stringy white layer stuck to the fruit, he refused to eat it.

But Willa had peeled them with care, her soft smile bright under the warm light.

As she leaned closer, a faint, clean fragrance drifted between them.

Bryan's expression didn't shift as he picked up a slice and bit down, the citrus tang lingering on his tongue.

After a pause, he passed her the plumpest piece. "It's sweet," he said evenly. "Try it."

"I don't..." Before Willa could finish, he slipped the slice past her lips.

The sharp sourness exploded on her tongue, making her scalp prickle. She bit back a gasp, silently fuming. Of all people, Bryan had to be the most vindictive man she'd ever met.