Two blocks away, inside the Cannon Group tower, Dorian had his arm around Joanna as they walked toward the parking garage. She was soft and warm against him, yet his mind drifted.

When he left home that morning, a strange unease clung to him. It felt as if he had overlooked something important. As he stepped out the door, he thought he saw a familiar car.

A blue Maybach—he wondered whose it was.

"Dorian, why are you so distracted? Want to go back to your wife?" Joanna pretended to scold him, pinching his waist before adding, "We're only flying to Entoland so you can bid on a set of jewelry for me. It won't keep you away for more than a few days."

Her soft voice was teasing, impossible to ignore, and her hand slid deliberately down the line of his waist. The touch snapped Dorian back to himself.

"Alright, alright, I'll focus on you. But we agreed that once we're back, I have to go ho

Dorian had a good memory. He had seen Joanna's phone passcode before, so he typed it in without thinking.

As he opened her chat history, he found nothing unusual and wondered if he was overthinking it. Then, he shook his head and chuckled.

He convinced himself that Joanna wasn't particularly gifted and came from a modest background, yet she had no ill intentions and was devoted to him.

She had promised to get her IUD after returning, never to have children, and never to make things difficult for him. So, there was nothing to worry about.

He was just about to put down her phone when his finger accidentally tapped WhatsApp, and almost instinctively, he scrolled down. There, he froze at the sight of Miranda's profile picture.

Dorian's heart skipped a beat—he hadn't expected Joanna to have added Miranda. He had warned her very seriously—not to cause a scene in front of Miranda, and neve

Three days later, Miranda woke up. The first thing she did was reach for her phone—and was met with a flood of alarming headlines.

"Joanna, Newly Appointed Vice CEO of the Cannon Group, Suffers a Massive Investment Failure, Losing a Billion Dollars!"

"Albion, Head of the Doyle Family, Rushed to the Hospital—Condition Unknown!"

"Dorian Speaks on Behalf of the Cannon Group—This Loss Is Only a Minor Setback and Does Not Threaten the Cannon Group's Foundation."

Each headline struck Miranda like a punch to the chest, and her vision blurred at the edges. She saw dozens of missed calls from Vanessa, and tears streamed down her cheeks.

Vanessa had lived a quiet, peaceful life, and Miranda was filled with guilt that her mother's greatest suffering had come from her, the daughter who had let her down.

With trembling hands, she returned the call. Vanessa's voice came through the phone the moment the call connected, hoarse from crying. 

The Doyle family's finances had been run dry. Albion could never have imagined that the one billion dollars he had invested would be completely lost in only three days.

The shock and fury overwhelmed him, and he fainted on the spot. He had just come out of surgery and was still unconscious in the ICU.

Vanessa did not blame Miranda at all. She could only cry, "Randa, the Doyle Group has signed so many joint projects with the Cannon Group. If we don't have the funds to complete them, we'll face massive penalties... That would really leave us with no way to recover!"

Miranda forced down the grief and fury burning in her chest and tried to comfort Vanessa. "Don't worry. I'll handle this."

With that, she hung up the phone and returned home. As she had fallen from the third floor, her right leg was in a cast, and she could only be pushed around in a wheelchair by Eleanor.

She had not been home for more than two weeks, and the house felt cold and empty, completely stripped of warmth.

Eleanor hesitated, then said, "Mr. Dorian hasn't come home to see Mr. Emerson even once during this time."

Miranda pressed her lips together and gave her a bitter smile.

From sneaking around under the pretense of working late to openly staying out all night, Dorian had only needed 20 days to completely change. He once swore he would love only her for a lifetime, but the promise of a lifetime was used up in just 20 days.

Miranda lifted Emerson into her arms. His small, warm body soothed her frozen heart. She called Dorian, asking him to come home, but he just said he was busy and couldn't make it.

With no other choice, Miranda took a photo of herself holding Emerson and sent it to him.

"You don't care about our marriage anymore… but at least think of your son, the heir of the Cannon family. Can you give my family more time to gather the funds and get through this?"

His reply came almost instantly—and it was ruthless.

"No. Joanna disagrees. She keeps business and personal matters separate, and you should learn from her."

A man who had fallen out of love truly had a heart of iron. He didn't care about their marriage, and now he didn't even care about his son, his flesh and blood. Miranda closed her eyes, letting the last tear fall, and picked up her phone to make a call. 

Three years ago, before she married Dorian, someone had made her a promise. Now, it was time for that promise to be fulfilled.

…

For the next ten days, Miranda spent her time sorting through the house. She sorted every piece of jewelry, car title, and property deed Dorian had given her over the years and boxed them all.

The two of them had been childhood sweethearts. Their photos alone filled over a dozen albums, and there were countless letters, diaries, and little notes full of memories—but Miranda tossed them all into the fireplace, burning them to ashes.

The last things she cleared out were her personal belongings. By the tenth day, the once warm and welcoming home had become empty, with no trace left of her or Emerson.

That same day, when she received the divorce certificate, Dorian came home. He froze when he saw the empty house and Miranda holding Emerson, ready to leave. 

"Randa, what are you doing?" he asked.

Miranda replied calmly, "I'm planning to renovate the house and give it a whole new feel."

Dorian didn't have time to dwell on such a clumsy excuse. He nodded, pulled a few changes of clothes from the closet, and said anxiously, "The company has urgent matters.

"I won't be coming back this month. Don't be too upset about your father's situation. I won't force him to pay back the money."

Because of the funding shortfall, the Doyle Group's projects with Cannon Group had defaulted, leaving them in massive debt.

Clearly, it was Dorian who had trapped Albion, yet now he had somehow transformed into the creditor. Having had a child, Miranda finally saw Dorian for who he really was.

She watched him take Joanna's call with a calm, indifferent gaze and then watched him leave the Cannon residence, walking out of her life.

Her heart no longer felt even a flicker of emotion. After Dorian left, Miranda placed the divorce certificate into an envelope and slid it under the pillow in the crib.

Alongside it were two more documents. One was the divorce agreement Joanna had sent her, with a single clause Miranda had added that stated the Cannon family would forever relinquish custody of the child.

The other was Dorian's medical report from the previous month, which plainly stated that his fertility was extremely low and it was highly unlikely he could conceive again.

Dorian's father, Damian Cannon, had seen this report and advised Miranda to keep it from Dorian. He probably thought that since there was already a grandson, there was no rush. But he never expected that Emerson would no longer carry the Cannon name.

Miranda's lips curved in a mocking smile as she opened the front door. A blue Maybach had been waiting at the curb for a long time. 

The car door opened, and before anyone stepped out, a voice called out, "Darling, have you made up your mind? Once you come with me, there's no turning back."

Miranda took a deep breath and extended her hand. "I've decided. I won't regret it."

Two blocks away, inside the Cannon Group tower, Dorian had his arm around Joanna as they walked toward the parking garage. She was soft and warm against him, yet his mind drifted.

When he left home that morning, a strange unease clung to him. It felt as if he had overlooked something important. As he stepped out the door, he thought he saw a familiar car.

A blue Maybach—he wondered whose it was.

"Dorian, why are you so distracted? Want to go back to your wife?" Joanna pretended to scold him, pinching his waist before adding, "We're only flying to Entoland so you can bid on a set of jewelry for me. It won't keep you away for more than a few days."

Her soft voice was teasing, impossible to ignore, and her hand slid deliberately down the line of his waist. The touch snapped Dorian back to himself.

"Alright, alright, I'll focus on you. But we agreed that once we're back, I have to go home. Randa has never been apart from me for this long." He sighed in compromise.

For the past month,

Chapter 8