Less than half an hour after Chloe's call, Julian arrived at the hospital.

He didn't come alone.


He appeared at the end of the corridor on the VIP floor, dressed in a long black coat like a king emerging from the night. Behind him followed two stern-faced bodyguards in matching suits, along with Arthur Hamilton, New York's top divorce lawyer.

He didn't even look at Chloe first.

His gaze, like blades tempered in ice, pierced straight through the crowd and locked onto Daniel, who was playing the role of the "good son-in-law."


"Chloe, you…" Daniel clearly hadn't expected Julian, and a crack appeared in his hypocritical facade.

Julian walked up to the disheveled Chloe who was being blocked by security. Without looking at her, he spoke to Daniel in a cold, matter-of-fact tone:


"From now on, all of Mr. Carter's affairs will be under my full authority. And you, Daniel, have thirty seconds to disappear from my sight with your 'family.'"

"Who do you think you are!" Daniel retorted with false bravado. "This is our family matter. Chloe is emotionally not—"

He couldn't finish his sentence.

Arthur Hamilton stepped forward with a smile and handed a document to Daniel. "Mr. Reed, this is the emergency medical authorization form that Mr. Carter signed earlier. Now, Mr. Blackwood is the only person with authority to make medical decisions for Mr. Carter."

Then, Arthur's smile remained unchanged, but his tone became stern: "Additionally, my client, Miss Carter, has formally instructed me to file a lawsuit against you for alleged marriage fraud, transfer of assets during marriage, and a series of other actions. Based on our evidence, I suggest you'd be better off not appearing before Miss Carter again. Otherwise, we'll see each other in court."

Daniel's face turned deathly pale. He looked at the impeccable lawyer, then at the two bodyguards standing like iron towers, and finally cast a venomous gaze at Julian.

Julian didn't even bother to give him a glance.

Daniel eventually dragged away Leo, who had been frightened out of his wits, and they left like two defeated dogs with their tails between their legs.

The crisis was crushed to pieces within minutes by his thunderous approach.

After her father's surgery successfully concluded, Julian, using "for your safety" as a reason and with a tone that brooked no argument, took the physically and mentally exhausted Chloe back to his penthouse.

He settled her in a huge guest room she hadn't seen during her previous visit. The room was already prepared with brand new female toiletries and an entire row of new clothes in her size hanging in the closet.

"You'll stay here until you've completely removed Daniel from your life," he said, his eyes no longer showing the anger from that night, but instead a suffocating sense of calm control.

"This is protection, not imprisonment," he paused, his lips curving into a cold smile that made her blood run cold. "Of course, if you insist on interpreting it as the latter, I don't mind."

After saying this, he informed her that he had an unavoidable international video conference and would be in his study for at least three hours, telling her to rest well. Then, he walked into his study and closed the door.

In the enormous apartment, only Chloe remained.

She lived a life of extreme material luxury yet extreme spiritual oppression. She was trapped. Julian provided her with the best material conditions and safest shelter, but simultaneously deprived her of all freedom. He left early and returned late, sometimes not coming back all night, and even when they did meet, he would only look at her with those cold eyes and ask, "Any progress with the lawyer?" before saying nothing more.

She hated his suffocating control, but had to admit that only in this "golden cage" could she find enough energy to plan her revenge against Daniel through calls and emails with Attorney Hamilton.

This feeling of both hatred and dependence was driving her insane. She was filled with endless questions about this man's motives, his actions at the hotel that night, and his declaration of "mine."

That day, Julian informed her that he needed to go on a business trip to Europe for three days.

When the apartment door closed behind him, the entire world, for the first time, was left with just her alone. Driven by an indescribable impulse mixed with fear and curiosity, she began exploring the apartment like a detective, examining every corner, trying to find a clue about the "real" Julian.

Then, she discovered that distinctive, heavy metal door at the end of the hallway.

The door had no handle, only an extremely sophisticated biometric fingerprint scanner.

This room, like Julian himself, emanated an aura of "keep out."

As if possessed, Chloe extended her finger and pressed it against the fingerprint scanner. As expected, the screen displayed a red "Access Denied." She chuckled self-mockingly and was about to leave.

But she accidentally discovered that beneath the fingerprint scanner was a concealed backup keypad requiring an eight-digit password.

The password…

What could it be?

His birthday? She tried, but it was wrong. The company's founding date? Wrong again.

Her mind raced, and then a date she had desperately tried to forget for five years involuntarily surfaced.

The day after her twentieth birthday, five years ago. June 12th.

No… impossible.

That day was my day of suffering, my day of shame. How could it possibly be that day?

Don't be silly, Chloe. Stop being so self-important.

She wanted to leave, but her feet seemed nailed to the spot. That crazy guess gripped her heart like a vine.

Finally, trembling, she reached out and entered a string of numbers on the keypad:

6122020

As she pressed the last digit, her heart nearly leaped out of her throat.

One second.

Two seconds.

"Beep—"

A faint sound of an electronic lock opening echoed in the dead silent hallway.

The door opened.

Chloe pressed her hand tightly over her mouth to stop herself from screaming.

Behind the door was neither a study nor a bedroom. It was a climate-controlled private gallery. Motion-sensing lights gradually illuminated row by row as she entered, like curtains rising on a grand theatrical performance.

The walls were covered with paintings.

Her crying, her laughing, her contemplating, her in the snow… Every important moment of her life had been permanently and obsessively preserved by this man who she thought "despised" her, with his brush, in this secret sanctuary hidden from daylight.

She walked to the deepest part of the gallery, where the largest painting stood.

It was her in a wedding dress.

In that painting, her eyes carried a hint of uncertainty about the future that even she herself had never noticed. Yet Julian had captured it precisely.

He had been painting her for ten years. He wasn't present at every important moment of her life, yet he was everywhere.

Chloe stood in the center of the gallery, trembling, her mind completely overwhelmed by this incredible, obsessive discovery.

Did he… hate her?

Was he… just toying with her?

Then what did all of this mean?

Just then, she heard the apartment door opening behind her.

Julian had returned early.

She heard footsteps. Those steady, distinctive footsteps that belonged to Julian were unhurriedly approaching in her direction, step by step.