“Really? Then tell me—what did my grandmother have to do with our business?”

Daniel knew exactly how much my grandmother meant to me.

As a child, my parents were too busy managing the Evans Group to care for me.

And when they did, it was with stern lectures more than affection.

But Grandma was different. She was gentle, always reasoning with me kindly.

She had a weak heart, yet she was the one who spent the most time with me.

She comforted me when I was sad, braided my hair into pretty plaits, and made sweet milk pudding for me.

She never handed my needs off to servants.

She was the very first person in my life who showed me what real love felt like.

And yet this precious woman died of a sudden heart attack, triggered by “accidental” words Chloe let slip.

I’d long wanted to destroy Chloe, but Daniel insisted, “Come after me instead.”

So I cut his brake lines and nearly cost him his life.

I had told them: never show yourselves before me again.

But Daniel couldn’t resist. Four years later, he strutted back into my path.

I didn’t know who called the police.

When my blade cut Chloe’s cheek, red-and-blue lights flashed so brightly I had to close my eyes.

Someone tried to take Daniel to the hospital, but he refused, trailing after me step by step.

Inside the wide police station, officers questioned him about why he disrupted my engagement party.

He ignored them, turning his head toward me instead.

“Sophia, just admit you were wrong and we’ll stop fighting, okay?”

I smirked and grabbed the ashtray off the officer’s desk, smashing it down on his head.

Me, admit defeat to him? He wasn’t worthy.

Blood poured down his forehead, staining what little was left of his white shirt crimson.

The officers rushed in to separate us, dragging me into an interrogation room.

Out of sight of his face, my mood calmed considerably.

After giving our statements, the incident was logged as mutual assault, with neither side pressing charges.

When I left the room, Daniel was sitting on the station steps, waiting.

Beside him stood his familiar friend, Michael Harris.

Michael kept urging him to get his wounds treated.

He only hung his head, silent.

The moment I appeared, he staggered to his feet.

“Well? Feel better now? If not, take another shot.”

I didn’t even glance at him, walking straight down the steps.

“Sophia.”

He looked ready to follow, but Michael held him back with exasperation.