As the hours ticked by, Grace worried that something had happened to Jay. He didn't have a mobile phone, so she couldn't contact him. She feared he'd moved on, and her hope for a sibling relationship and a semblance of family was just a pipe dream.

Grace went outside and walked to the entrance of the residential community, constantly scanning the area for any sign of him. After what felt like an eternity, she saw a familiar figure approaching.

"Jay!" she exclaimed, sighing with relief as he drew nearer.

Jay, slightly startled by the figure rushing toward him, watched as she ran over, panting slightly, her face flushed from the cold, but her eyes bright.

"Great, you're finally back," she said.

"Sister, were you waiting for me?" He gently touched her cheek; the coldness seeped into his fingertips, a testament to her long wait.

"Yes," she said with a smile. "I was so worried because you hadn't come back, and it's late. Fortunately, you're safe."

He rolled his eyes slightly. She was worried about Jay—the homeless man—not Jason Reed of the Reed Conglomeration. He wondered if she would still worry so much if she knew his true identity. Unlikely.

Raising a corner of his mouth, he said, "I was working," inventing a story about handing out flyers.

She nodded. "Your hands are cold. I'll help you warm them up." He took her cold hands in his, rubbing the backs of her hands as she had done for him before. Grace felt her hands gradually warm. It was a cold day, yet it felt so warm.

"Jay, it's so good to have you home," she murmured.

His lips curved into a smile. "I'll keep that in mind. I hope you won't regret saying that in the future."

"I won't," she said. "My hands are warm now. Let's go back to the house, and I'll heat up the food." She pulled him into the complex, oblivious to a black car parking discreetly at the corner of the street.

Meanwhile, in the car, Terrence was astonished. Mr. Reed had justwarmed a woman's hands. He'd never seen him act this way toward any woman, not even Jennifer Atkinson, his former fiancée. Yet, he was doing this for Grace, the woman who caused Jennifer's car accident! It made no sense.

Remembering Mr. Reed collecting a drunk Grace from a club, Terrence felt his mind reeling. Had Grace captured a space in his heart? Surely not. But watching them across the parking lot, holding hands and gazing into each other's eyes, he wondered if he was hallucinating.

The next day, at Reed headquarters, while reporting on Jason's schedule, Terrence found his gaze drawn to Jason's hands. They were long and slender—beautiful, he admitted, a surprising thought for him. He'd seen those hands choke someone mercilessly, almost taking a life. Mr. Reed showed no qualms about bloodshed, a chilling thought. Yet, here were those same hands warming another's, a woman who'd been imprisoned.

"What's wrong with my hands?" Jason's voice startled him.

"Ah, nothing," Terrence stammered, quickly averting his gaze. He handed Jason an invitation. "Lily and Sean Stevens' engagement. Chairman Stevens hopes you'll attend."

"Engagement?" Jason glanced at the card. He understood the families' intentions—Jennifer Atkinson, the eldest Atkinson daughter, had been his fiancée. They wanted to gauge his reaction. "Then let's go."

That afternoon, Terrence accompanied Jason to a private hospital. Terrence waited outside the ward while Jason entered. The old man inside had once dominated the world, building the Reed empire. But his only son had run away for a woman, leaving behind only ashes and a child.

Jason found his grandfather weak and frail in a hospital gown.

"You're here," Mr. Reed said.

"Yes," Jason replied.

A long silence passed between them, a familiar comfort.

Finally, Mr. Reed spoke. "My secretary told me the Stevens and Atkinson families are merging through marriage?"

"They're engaged in two weeks; they sent an invitation," Jason said.

"You're going?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

Mr. Reed stared at his grandson. Then, he laughed. "Good, good. You're not like your father."

Mr. Reed had worried Jason would repeat his son's mistakes, consumed by a woman. He expected resentment toward the Stevens family, but Jason remained composed.

Jason understood. "No, I am not him, and I will never be."

Mr. Reed grabbed Jason's wrist, his wrinkled fingers digging in. Deep red marks appeared.

Jason showed no pain, a mocking smile playing on his lips. He would never surrender everything for a woman. He would never be his father.