“Asher, I suspect the person who pushed me into traffic today was working for Tom Malfoy. I can’t think of anyone else who would do something like this,” Kimberly said quietly. Asher’s arm tightened around her, his dark eyes gleaming with cold fury. “I’ve made inquiries. Malfoy has indeed returned to London.”

Kimberly stiffened against him. “Kimmy, darling. I think it’s best if you work from home for a while. Keep outings to a minimum.”

“Is he… is Malfoy truly that dangerous?”

Asher released her from his embrace but kept his hands on her shoulders, looking intently into her eyes. “I’m not willing to gamble with your safety. When I learned how close you came to being killed today, my heart nearly stopped. You mean more to me than my own life—you must know that.”

The corners of Asher’s eyes reddened slightly. “Against Malfoy, I’m entirely confident in my ability to prevail. His tactics are brutal, but I can be more ruthless when necessary. The difference is, he lacks any human feeling—no emotional vulnerabilities, nothing to exploit. One might say he lacks basic humanity. I, however, have you.”

“Kimmy, I simply can’t put you at risk.”

The dining room was brilliantly lit, the dishes on the table releasing enticing aromas. From the living room, the evening news played at low volume, the presenter’s voice barely audible in the background.

Kimberly lowered her gaze, her eyes stinging with emotion. “Asher, am I becoming a liability to you?” she asked softly.

Asher’s eyes immediately flashed with anguish and guilt. “How can you even think that? If anyone’s at fault, it’s me. If not for our relationship, you wouldn’t be targeted by Grace, nor would you have caught Malfoy’s attention.”

Kimberly shook her head slowly. “You’ve never been at fault. I’ve never once thought that.”

“But I do, because it’s the truth,” Asher sighed. “Just stay in for the next few days, would you? I’ll come round every day to be with you.”

Kimberly nodded. “All right.”

“Asher, could you look into someone for me?”

“Who?”

“Feynman Port.”

A dangerous glint appeared in Asher’s eyes. “The man who arranged those thugs to assault you today?”

“Yes,” Kimberly nodded. “My gut tells me he has powerful backing. A small factory owner wouldn’t dare arrange such a brazen attack on a barrister; it had all the hallmarks of organized crime.”

“I’ve already put people onto it,” Asher replied.

“Good.”

“Kimmy, let’s eat before everything gets cold,” Asher said, pulling out the chair beside her and sitting down.

“Yes, do join me.”

Tom Malfoy sat in the back seat of his car. From the front, his driver and bodyguard, Jerry, glanced in the rearview mirror. “Back to Miss Petrov’s place tonight, sir?”

Valeria Petrov was half-English, half-Russian, from a wealthy family. With her fluent language skills, she had worked as a luxury travel guide before meeting Tom. Since then, she hadn’t returned to England in over two years. She was his most favored mistress in Russia and had accompanied him on this trip to London.

In the back seat, Tom lit a cigarette, lifting his eyelids slightly. “No. Take me to that girl… you know, the innocent-looking one. What was her name again?”

Tom was notorious for his philandering ways. With his strikingly handsome face and captivating eyes that could make even the most cynical person feel special, he had countless mistresses in Russia. Within days of arriving in London, women were already throwing themselves at him. As long as they were attractive, Tom never refused.

His business ventures constantly flirted with death; one small mistake could cost him his life. Living in excess and pursuing immediate pleasures had become his philosophy. He craved intense gratification and used sexual indulgence to release tension. For Tom, women’s bodies were merely instruments for his relief. He could sleep with many, give them anything they desired except love. He was a man without sentiments or heart. To him, love was the most useless thing in existence.

“An innocent-looking girl? Jerry thought for a moment, then tentatively asked, “You mean Miss Sophie, sir?”

Tom took a drag of his cigarette, exhaling smoke rings that swirled in the air. “Don’t think that was her name. The one Arno Jones brought round the night we arrived. Petite thing, long straight black hair, large eyes. Just turned eighteen, university student, I believe.”

With this description, Jerry remembered. When they had first landed in London, Arno had arranged a welcome gathering. To please Tom, he had specifically selected several exceptionally beautiful virgins, including the girl Tom was describing. That night, Tom had casually chosen two other girls to accompany him. After drinks, he took them to his hotel for a threesome, leaving the black-haired girl behind. Nevertheless, Tom had apparently been interested in her. Though he hadn’t taken her that night, he had generously given her £20,000, ostensibly to fund her university education. Girls who came to such gatherings were there to be bought. The £20,000, everyone understood, was payment for her virginity. Tom had also gifted the girl an apartment near her university.

Having served Tom the longest, Jerry understood his nature perfectly. Tom was consistently debauched and promiscuous, keeping over a dozen women. Some, like Valeria, had been with him longer—nearly two years in her case. Others he would sleep with once or twice and never contact again.

Remembering something, Jerry hesitantly spoke up: “Sir, Miss Petrov rang about an hour ago. She’s prepared dinner and is waiting for you. You did say you’d be back for supper with her.”

Since Valeria had been with Tom for quite some time, Jerry felt she was somewhat different from the other women and thought it worth reminding him of his promise.

Tom gave a derisive laugh, his eyes reflecting indifference. “Lost my appetite for that, I’m afraid.”

“Very well, sir.”

Jerry said nothing more, quietly starting the car.

At Valeria’s luxurious residence, the dining room stood empty and silent. She had spent the entire evening preparing. A perfectly cooked steak sat on the table, alongside roses and a bottle of fine wine. She had even dressed for the occasion in an elegant burgundy silk gown. She sat at the dining table, gently swirling her wine glass, her beautiful eyes filled with anticipation. The wall clock ticked steadily, time passed, minute by minute. The anticipation in her eyes gradually gave way to disappointment. After restraining herself repeatedly, she finally reached for her phone and made a call.

The phone rang for a long time before it was answered. “Tom, are you busy?” Valeria asked carefully. There were sounds from the other end that made her heart clench painfully. She gripped the phone tightly, her knuckles turning white, tears falling instantly.

“Can’t talk now, darling. Won’t make it for dinner tonight,” Tom’s voice was slightly hoarse.

Valeria bit her lower lip, tears streaming down her face. Tom didn’t end the call but carelessly tossed his phone aside. The sounds that continued to come through were unmistakable. Valeria listened with a sort of self-inflicted punishment. Each sound was like a knife twisting in her heart, leaving her breathless with pain. She had believed she was different in Tom’s eyes. She was the woman who had been with him the longest, the only one he’d brought with him to London. But now she realized her perceived special status was merely self-delusion.

As the sounds from the other end grew more intense, Valeria couldn’t bear it any longer. She hurled her phone across the room.