Stephan's low, gravelly voice held a teasing lilt, but his sharp gaze remained unwavering, piercing Felicia's defenses. It was a tone she couldn't easily dismiss.

At their feet, Cloud's tail wagged furiously, a propeller circling their legs. The dog was oblivious to the tension between them.

Felicia cleared her throat, deciding on directness. "It was a one-time thing. No big deal. I've already said I'm not holding you responsible; you shouldn't either."

She paused, a faint smile playing on her lips, but it lacked playfulness. Something darker lurked beneath the surface.

"Besides," she murmured, her voice trailing off, the smile deepening into quiet resignation. She thought, If you ever saw the real me—the bitter, manipulative, remorseless me—you'd regret it.

Her mind flashed to Sebastian, her so-called brother. She remembered his expression upon realizing she wasn't the sweet, innocent sister he believed her to be, the disappointment in his eyes as he walked away without a backward glance. Then, a memory from her past life surfaced: her adoptive parents screaming, their words like knives, "Felicia, you've always been selfish, heartless, and cruel! You don't care about anyone but yourself. People like you deserve to die!"

Those words echoed in her mind, a haunting mantra. Over time, she'd become exactly what they'd accused her of being. Fine. If that's what they thought, she'd embrace it.

Her facade reappeared, burying her emotions deep.

But before she could fully retreat, Stephan's hand gently lifted her chin. Their eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, she saw something unexpected—a flicker of concern, almost regret.

Her lips curved into a light, breezy smile, as if nothing had happened. Yet Stephan saw through her. For a split second, her eyes glistened, betraying unshed tears.

His chest tightened. The Felicia he knew was fierce, unyielding—a woman who could rise from the darkest depths and still crack a joke, patch him up without complaint, and laugh in the face of danger. But tonight, he glimpsed another side: fragile, wounded, perhaps lonely.

Cloud wagged its tail eagerly. Felicia crouched to pat it, when a sudden thought struck her. "Oh no! The cab driver must be furious!"

Grabbing her bag, she bolted for the door, her heels clicking. Stephan didn't stop her.

As the door closed, he remained rooted to the spot, watching her go.

One of his men cautiously approached. "Mr. Russell, is everything all right?"

Stephan's gaze drifted to the window, following the cab's taillights fading into the distance. He sighed softly, his voice almost introspective. "She's... a little pitiful, isn't she?"

The bodyguard blinked, stunned. This from Stephan, a man known for his ruthlessness, a man who could destroy without a second thought. Pitiful? And Felicia, no less.

The bodyguard stroked his chin. Wasn't there a saying? Pity was the first step toward love. Pity bred protectiveness; protectiveness, possessiveness...

His thoughts were interrupted by Stephan's departure. Stephan was in his study, phone pressed to his ear. The bodyguard overheard snippets of the conversation.

"Yes, I'm back... No, I'm fine. How's the baby?"

Stephan's voice softened, the harsh edges melting into tenderness. It had to be Imogen Russell, his older sister. Born into wealth and prestige, yet plagued by tragedy. Blind from birth—a fact whispered to be a family curse—she'd recently lost her fiancé in a freak sea accident, his body unrecovered. She was pregnant, and her grief threatened a miscarriage.