Alden stood before the wrought-iron gates of Rooney Manor, carrying a paper bag of freshly roasted chestnuts. Steam had softened the paper, and the rich, earthy scent curled around him in the crisp air.

He pressed a hand over the freshly inked name—Vivi—on his chest. The tattoo still burned, but the pain was dull.

Stranger still was the way his heart pounded, wild and relentless, as if something unseen were clawing at his nerves and refusing to let him rest.

Frowning, he dismissed the unease as the restless anticipation of seeing Vivian again.

The door swung open, and Alden stepped in to find Walter standing in the center of the living room. His expression was resigned, and his voice was a low, pleading murmur.

Vivian had her back to him. Her shoulders were trembling, and her words were razor-sharp with irritation. "Ten billion dollars? Dad! Have you lost your mind?"

Walter kept hi

Alden's indulgence toward Vivian was excessive. As her bodyguard, he accompanied her as she shopped, dined, and watched movies.

If she casually mentioned craving pastries from the century-old bakery in the west district, he'd personally line up at 3:00 am to get them.

When her feet ached from hours of shopping, he'd kneel without hesitation to massage her ankles, indifferent to the stares around them.

If Vivian admired a new collection from a high-end jewelry designer, Alden—the Wilders' scion—would quietly acquire the entire set and have it delivered to her doorstep.

He'd named constellations after her when she said she loved the stars. When someone earned her anger, they'd vanish from their circle by dawn.

Alden's friends said he was wrapped around Vivian's finger. And they weren't wrong.

That day, Vivian insisted they drive to the countryside to watch the sunset. On the way back

Maisie's eyes widened. "Aren't you afraid Alden will hear you?"

"So what if he does?" Vivian shrugged, her voice dripping with indifference. "Men are simple—give them a little sugar, and they'll stay loyal forever."

Willow stood in the hallway's shadowed corner, struck by a sudden curiosity.

What face would Alden make if he heard those words? What would that proud, untouchable man do if he knew he was just a backup plan?

Vivian was the woman he'd tear the world apart for.

A cold, sarcastic smile twisted Willow's lips. She turned away without a sound, leaving the room undisturbed.

Later, after leaving the club, she went straight to the cemetery.

Willow knelt before Camille's gravestone, gently brushing dust from the photograph. "Mom, I'm getting married to the Scott family's vegetative son... It's fine—at least he won't cheat on me."

A breeze rustled the white lilies at the base of the stone, and their petals trembled.

"Don't worry. I won't end up like you." Her fingertips traced the cold granite. "Loving someone enough to destroy yourself? That's just stupid. I'll live well. Better than well."

As dusk bled into the horizon, Willow rose, casting one last look at Camille's photo before turning away.

At home, she spent the night packing. She folded clothes, tucked away jewelry, and sifted through photo albums, one by one. She wouldn't be coming back.

Dawn had barely broken when her phone buzzed.

"Funds received: Ten billion dollars."

Walter's call came seconds later. "The Scotts are pushing hard. You need to leave today. The ten billion dollars is yours. As for Alden—"

"I'm sending him to Rooney Manor." Willow cut him off. "Starting today, he's Vivian's bodyguard. I'm done with him."

A brief silence hung on the line before Walter's voice softened unexpectedly. "Willow, I never stopped loving you or your mother—"

"I used to think you were just corrupt." Willow laughed. "Turns out you're something worse."

Without another word, she ended the call and blocked the number.

Outside, the moving truck idled by the curb. Willow directed the workers as they hauled out her luggage. Just then, Alden emerged from his room.

"Ms. Rooney, what's all this?" He frowned at the sea of boxes strewn across the floor.

"Moving." She didn't look up. "Just relocating."

Alden nodded, unfazed—certainly not guessing that by moving, she meant from Blythera to Nythera.

"Let me help."

"No need." At last, she met his gaze. "You've got another job."

"What?"

"Buy some roasted chestnuts and take them to Rooney Manor for Vivian."

Alden stiffened. He was caught off guard. "Why?"

"You'll see when you get there."

She watched his Adam's apple bob. That usually distant gaze flickered with something unreadable. In the end, the desire to see Vivian won out over doubt.

Alden remembered something else. "Ms. Rooney, send me your new address once you're settled. I'll clear out my things and join you later."

As her full-time bodyguard, he was contractually required to stay at her side to ensure her safety. That was the deal.

But this time, Willow didn't answer.

He waited. When it became clear she wouldn't respond, he figured she'd send the details later and turned to go. As he reached the doorway, he thought he heard her murmur something.

"What?"

He looked back.

Willow stood bathed in morning light. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Nothing. Go."

It was only when he was completely out of sight that she finally slipped into the car.

"To the airport," she said to the driver.

The world outside the window streaked past in a smudge of color. She dug out her phone, pried the SIM card free, and snapped it in half. Then, she tossed the pieces out the window.

They disappeared instantly.

Alden stood before the wrought-iron gates of Rooney Manor, carrying a paper bag of freshly roasted chestnuts. Steam had softened the paper, and the rich, earthy scent curled around him in the crisp air.

He pressed a hand over the freshly inked name—Vivi—on his chest. The tattoo still burned, but the pain was dull.

Stranger still was the way his heart pounded, wild and relentless, as if something unseen were clawing at his nerves and refusing to let him rest.

Frowning, he dismissed the unease as the restless anticipation of seeing Vivian again.

The door swung open, and Alden stepped in to find Walter standing in the center of the living room. His expression was resigned, and his voice was a low, pleading murmur.

Vivian had her back to him. Her shoulders were trembling, and her words were razor-sharp with irritation. "Ten billion dollars? Dad! Have you lost your mind?"

Walter kept his voice hushed. "We can rebuild as long as we're standing. Sweetheart, I have no choice. I gave my w

Chapter 10