After Chloe finished that provocative line and flashed her victorious smile, Julian, following his initial shock and frustration, also smiled.

It wasn't a cold smile, but one full of indulgence, appreciation, and a hint of a hunter's certainty when watching beloved prey testing the edges of a trap.


He slowly walked up to her.

He didn't try to kiss her again, nor did he say anything. He simply reached out and, with the back of his fingertips, as if touching the most fragile butterfly wing, gently brushed away a speck of dust from her cheek that she herself hadn't noticed—dust that had settled there from the old parts.

This gesture, intimate and private, yet without a trace of desire, was more like a silent, possessive mark.


Then, in a brief and low tone that only she could hear clearly, he said four words.

"Alright, I understand."


After that, Julian didn't make any more inappropriate moves. Like the most perfect gentleman, he helped her repack the repaired music box. Then, he personally drove her back to the villa in the suburbs.

On the way, they chatted about art, the weather, and several newly opened restaurants in New York. That intense, almost explosive tension from the studio seemed as if it had never happened.

Julian's "calmness" instead made Chloe feel unprecedented confusion and a hint of… agitation.

She thought she had "won" a round, outmaneuvered him, and regained the initiative. But now it seemed more like her long-prepared punch had landed on the softest cotton. He wasn't angry, didn't counterattack, and didn't even show any disappointment.

What exactly… did he know?

This feeling of being unable to control the situation made her restless during the days waiting for departure.

Finally, the day arrived for her scheduled flight to Tuscany.

She packed her luggage and sat in the living room of the villa, waiting for the car Julian had promised to send to take her to the airport. Her mind was uncontrollably wondering—would he appear at the airport? Would he, like in novels, rush to the boarding gate at the last moment and stage a final attempt to make her stay?

At ten in the morning, a tremendous roaring sound came from the lawn of the villa.

Chloe walked to the window and was shocked to see a black Bell 429 helicopter slowly descending onto the meticulously trimmed lawn in front of her.

The massive air current from the rotors caused the "Moon Goddess" roses in the garden to sway violently.

The person who stepped out of the helicopter was Julian's perpetually expressionless chief assistant, dressed in an immaculate suit, holding an exquisite leather document case embossed with the Blake Family Crest.

He approached Chloe and respectfully gave a slight bow.

"Miss Carter," he said, "Mr. Blake asked me to give this to you."

Chloe took the heavy box and opened it.

Inside was nothing she had imagined—not expensive jewelry, nor a keepsake for farewell.

But rather a thick deed that emanated the scent of premium paper and ink.

At the top of the deed, in elegant calligraphy, her name was clearly printed: Chloe Carter. And the property indicated was none other than the ancient estate in Tuscany, Italy that she had seen in a picture book when she was fifteen and had kept as her ultimate dream—the "Moonlight Manor" (Villa Luna), along with its affiliated olive groves and vineyards spanning hundreds of hectares.

The official effective date of the deed was today.

Just as Chloe was completely shocked by this gift that could only be described as "absurd," her mind going blank, the assistant's satellite phone rang. He answered it, then respectfully handed the phone to her.

"A call from Mr. Blake, miss."

Like a puppet, Chloe mechanically took the phone.

"Do you like it? My gift." Julian's familiar voice, carrying a hint of lazy amusement, came clearly through the phone.

"You…" Chloe only managed to utter one word before falling silent again.

"Dear Chloe," Julian's voice was filled with absolute confidence and a barely perceptible tenderness, "you don't need to cancel your plane ticket."

He paused, then in the most gentle yet domineering tone, delivered the ultimate confession that completely cut off all her retreat, turning all her hesitation and testing into sweet jokes:

"You don't need to go to someone else's estate to search for the dream you had when you were eighteen."

"Because from today onwards, I have turned everything in your dreams into your reality."

From the other end of the phone came the roaring sound of helicopter blades, drawing closer from a distance.

"So, now," Julian's voice seemed to echo right beside her ear, "are you still leaving?"

"Or… are you ready to welcome me and go home together?"

Chloe held the cold phone and slowly raised her head. She saw, on the azure horizon, another black helicopter, like a hunting eagle, roaring towards the estate where she was.

She looked at the weighty deed in her hand, carrying five years of a man's deep affection and obsession, then glanced at the black dot in the sky representing absolute power that was flying toward her.

All the testing, all the pulling, all the uncertainty, in this moment, finally settled like dust.

Finally, on the phone, to the man who was rushing towards her in front of the whole world, she softly yet unmistakably uttered a single word.

"…Yes."