If you and I cannot escape the sea of sin

In less than a single night, news of Anthony and Grace’s impending engagement swept through the household like wildfire.

As Anthony’s officially recognized fiancée, Grace now commanded everyone’s attention. Even my parents hesitated to take their seats at the table until she had settled into hers.

Despite the lavish spread before her, Grace wore a troubled expression.

“What’s wrong?” Anthony asked at once, his voice soft with concern. “Is the food not to your taste?”

Grace shook her head. Her gaze drifted toward me, seated at the far end of the table. “I’ve always heard,” she said quietly, “that Miss Jessica was raised by old Mr. Anthony himself. She must have impeccable taste. Not like me—coming from a family that lost everything, I really don’t know what I’m doing.” She paused, then added gently, “Could I trouble Miss Jessica to recommend which dishes are the most delicious?”

Anthony and my grandfather, Brandon Anthony, had been mortal enemies. Since Anthony took control of the family and Anthony's Group, no one dared mention Grandfather’s name aloud.

And the fact that I had been raised by Grandfather’s own hand? That was Anthony’s forbidden zone—the very wellspring of his hatred for me.

Sure enough, his expression darkened as he turned his gaze on me.

A frozen silence fell over the room.

My father shot me a glare sharp enough to cut steel. My mother nudged me from behind, urging me to kneel and apologize immediately.

That was how it always went. Anthony’s anger would ease, just a little—and then, heedless of whoever was watching, he would drag me back to his room…

But from now on, I refused to degrade myself like that again.

I clenched my fists, ready to refuse.

Then Grace gently brushed her fingertips against the back of Anthony’s hand. “Anthony…” she whispered. “Big brother? Isn’t that allowed?”

Just that one phrase—*big brother*—and, impossibly, Anthony’s expression softened. “Of course it is,” he replied, his voice tender.

He shot me a cold look. “Jessica,” he ordered, “see to Grace’s plate.”

I froze, staring at him in disbelief.

He was actually letting her use that intimate, forbidden name—*big brother*?!

When we were children, I had trailed after him, foolishly calling him brother again and again.

Each time, he would pretend to be angry, though his eyes smiled as he coaxed, “You should call me Uncle Anthony, all right? Candy is only for girls who call me Uncle Anthony.”

But the next time I called him brother, he still gave me candy.

Later, a paternity test proved he was no son of Grandfather’s.

He told me the title ‘brother’ was a constant reminder of the humiliation and torment he’d endured.

I remember clearly—the last time I slipped and called him brother in bed, his hand closed around my throat, squeezing tighter and tighter until the edges of my vision blurred.

Only then did he release me, his voice like ice. “Don’t ever call me that again.”

After that, I never dared.

But now… now he was letting Grace call him brother.

Seeing I hadn’t moved, Anthony fixed his eyes on me, each word deliberate and sharp. “Grace is going to be your aunt. You will show her the respect she is due.”

Grace shot me a triumphant glance, feigning shyness. “I’m not married to you yet.”

Anthony chuckled, his reply dripping with affection. “In my heart, you’ve long been my wife.”

Amid all that cloying sweetness, every eye in the room turned to me. Their gazes—mocking, scornful, reveling in my misery—cut deep.

From the ruthless heiress of the Anthony empire to Anthony’s despised plaything; to the outside world, I was just his dog. They never hesitated to remind me, claiming I’d hand over the entire Anthony Group just to earn a second glance from him.

For seven years, I had grown numb. And so, obediently, I stood and began plating dishes for Grace.

The entire evening, I stood beside her, attending to her every need until my legs ached and trembled, on the verge of buckling.

Only when she smiled sweetly and said, “I’m full now. Thank you for your trouble, Miss Jessica,” did it finally end.

Anthony looked at her adoringly. “As long as you’re happy. Let me take you for a walk.”

From beginning to end, he never spared me a single glance.

Before leaving the table, my mother shot me a look of pure disgust. “Useless thing. Can’t even keep a man’s attention.”

My father shook his head in clear dissatisfaction before walking away.

Faced with a table of cold leftovers, a wave of nausea churned in my stomach. I retched, my body heaving.

Then my phone screen lit up. A message from Gregory: *Boss, all is proceeding smoothly.*

I exhaled slowly.

The year Grandfather died, I was only twenty—insignificant, voiceless, utterly incapable of shouldering the mantle of Chairman of Anthony's Group.

My first thought had been to go with the flow, to let Anthony run the company into the ground. But the Anthony empire was a behemoth, too large to simply collapse; its roots tangled deep in the family soil, its interests sunk into assets overseas.

To wipe out every last parasite for good, I’ve endured nearly seven years of this, gathering evidence of their financial crimes.

Now, finally, dawn is on the horizon.

I can only hope that when the Anthony empire comes crashing down, Anthony and Grace will still be this sweet.