Elsie didn’t say a word.
On the other end of the call, Olivia sounded frazzled, like her phone was about to go up in smoke. “The media’s blowing up my phone! I can’t even keep up with declining the calls.”
“Should I say something?” Elsie asked, clearly worried.
“Say what?” Olivia snapped, frustrated. “Didn’t William already post something on Twitter? If anyone should speak up, it’s him. If he actually cared about protecting you, he should—”
Before she could finish, Elsie’s phone buzzed again.
The name “William” lit up on the screen.
Her heart skipped a beat out of reflex—maybe it was because of that photo he posted on Twitter, or maybe… maybe he wanted to talk in person. That tiny bit of hope crept in before she could stop it.
She told Olivia to hang on and answered the call after a deep breath. “Hello—”
“The driver’s downstairs,” William said quickly, his voice sharp and cold. “You need

A chilly vibe clung to William as he slowly descended the stairs, his steps steady and full of pressure.
When he stopped in front of Elsie, the curve of his thin lips was colder than the bits of snow clinging stubbornly to the pine branches outside. “Easy for you to say.”
“Aiden spoke up for you. He liked a clip of that slap on Twitter, stirred up your fans, and now they’ve gone after Grace. One of them broke her rib. She’s still in the hospital.” His phone screen lit up coldly in his hand, reflecting the suppressed fury in his eyes. “And thanks to your little scandal, Harding Group just lost two billion—within an hour.”
Every word felt like another nail driven into Elsie’s palm, her nails digging deep into her skin.
“So—”
William leaned down suddenly, breath warm against her ear, forcing Elsie to take two quick steps back.
He didn’t let up.
Grabbing her chin, he stared down at her, the 

William had no idea how long he’d been holding that position before he slowly loosened Elsie’s fingers.
She stirred slightly, frowning as she mumbled, “William, can we not break up… please?”
The silence in the car stretched for a beat.
William’s chest went tight—then suddenly eased like someone had let go.
His head snapped down, eyes locked on her, and in that moment, a flicker of hope lit up in his heart.
His breathing stumbled, voice a little hoarse as he asked carefully, “What did you just say?”
But Elsie didn’t respond. Her long lashes, wet with tears, trembled faintly.
William’s throat bobbed as he pressed again, more urgently, “Tell me… who am I?”
The girl in his arms slowly opened her bleary, tear-filled eyes and stared at him for a few seconds. Then, in a whisper, she said his name.
“William…”
Not Liam—William.
He didn’t even have time to wonder if it was just drunken rambling. Because the next second, Elsie tilted her head up slightly, just like she did three years ago on that chaotic night—nervous, hesitant, but still leaning in closer.
A mix of alcohol and her familiar lily scent clouded the air between them, curling around his throat and brushing softly against his lips.
In that second, William’s self-control just disintegrated.
Three years’ worth of suppressed emotions burst out. He leaned in and kissed her—hungry, desperate, clinging to that fragile hope.
He didn’t stop until she gave a quiet whimper and melted into his arms, and suddenly, he snapped back to reality.
In the dim light, he reached out and brushed his fingers across her flushed cheek. His emotions were a mess.
He didn’t know what this drunken intimacy meant—but one thing was certain: he wasn’t letting go this time.
—
Morning came.
Elsie woke up with a pounding headache.
Pressing her temples, she realized she couldn't remember what had happened after she drank. Her memory just cut out.
All she could recall was the weird dream she’d had—about drugging William that night, and them kissing like they never wanted to stop…
Her cheeks turned bright red. She suddenly grabbed at her pajama top.
Wait a sec. She’d been at the bar drinking… How did she end up home?
Just as she was about to go downstairs and ask Lisa Smith what happened, her phone chimed.
A message from William: [I need to talk to you. Let’s meet when you’ve rested.]
She stared at it for a while, heart skipping a beat.
Somehow, her mind went straight back to last night.
—
At Harding Group.
Eric hesitated before finally speaking up, holding out the documents carefully. “Mr. Harding, are you sure about giving up the trust? Once you sign, that inheritance from Mr. Thomas is out of reach—even if you get divorced.”
William didn’t even look up as he flipped through the pages. “Who said I’m getting divorced?”
He wanted to give it a proper shot with Elsie this time.
Eric froze. William had come in this morning in an oddly good mood, and even the usually stiff secretary department seemed relaxed for once, whispering guesses behind his back.
Who would’ve thought… not only was he giving up the inheritance, but he also wasn’t planning on leaving Elsie.
Pretty wild, considering they had a huge fight just two days ago.
“Okay,” Eric nodded and left.
Barely two minutes later, he burst back into the office.
“Mr. Harding, it’s bad—Miss Howard just posted a recording online, accusing your wife of breaking you two up! The whole internet’s blowing up. They’re all going after her. It’s way worse than what they said about Grace yesterday!”
William’s face went cold. He quickly clicked on the audio clip Eric had sent.
A few seconds in, Elsie’s steady voice echoed from the speaker: “There’s never gonna be real love between us…”
William’s entire expression froze up.
Next second—bam.
He hurled the phone across the room. It hit the corner wall with a loud crack, pieces scattering.
He shot to his feet, chest heaving, the fury in his eyes practically burning.
Eric opened his mouth, trying to calm him down.
William grabbed the stack of freshly signed papers and flung them across the room.
They clipped the edge of the glass on the desk, sending it crashing to the ground with a sharp shatter. Tiny shards flew everywhere, instantly turning the office into a chaotic mess.
His chest rose and fell heavily, veins bulging on his forehead from anger.
He'd thought last night might be a turning point. But turns out… she never had feelings for him in the first place.
"Mr. Harding…"
Eric barely dared to breathe, but still had to ask, "Should we issue any response to the media?"
"You tell me," William scoffed coldly, shooting him a glance sharp enough to chill bones. His eyes had zero warmth.
Eric began sweating bullets. "…"
Meanwhile, Elsie was staring blankly at William’s message on her phone when Olivia suddenly called in.
Her voice was all nerves and fire: "Elsie! Get on Twitter right now! I told you Grace was up to something when she suddenly apologized yesterday! She's totally screwing you over!"
"What?"
Elsie quickly opened Twitter. It took forever to load, but finally the page stuttered to life.
#ElsieClarkeManipulativeBitch and #ElsieDruggedHimForMarriage were already trending at the top. The comments were pure hate.
"So she drugged him to steal his wedding from Grace? Even edited videos to get Grace cyberbullied? Slapped three times? Too soft!"
"Wait—is that the William from Harding Group? If someone stole my fiancé, I’d be throwing acid, not slapping!"
"Grace’s contract is with William’s Central Entertainment. Looks like he’s rekindling the flame with her."
"They’re supposed to divorce in ten days, right? Counting down!"
Elsie stared at the flood of disgusting comments, feeling like the ground was spinning under her feet.
Her whole body went cold. She could barely keep hold of her phone.
Then suddenly, a new trending post shot up in real time—
#WilliamHardingSpeaksOut
Hand shaking, she tapped on it.
A tweet. A photo. Caption: “We’re happily married. Don’t spread rumors.”
It was a picture of her sleeping face. A bit blurry, taken up close. But you could clearly see the faint, still-visible swelling on her face.
Elsie froze. That picture…
At the same time, Olivia called again, practically screaming: "Elsie! New trend! William actually posted a pic of you sleeping to defend you?!"
"Wait, when did you two get all lovey-dovey again? Don’t tell me after all my break-up speeches, I end up sitting at your head table?"
Elsie quietly reminded her, "…We’ve been married three years."
Olivia snorted, then got all suspicious: "Or maybe he just wants to calm things down 'cause Harding Group’s stock is crashing and dug out some old photo of you to fake it."
Elsie shook her head. "No."
She looked up at herself in the mirror.
"What?" Olivia blinked, confused.
"It’s not an old photo… it’s from last night."
Elsie stared at her reflection. The swelling on her face matched the photo exactly. Her chest felt tight, emotions tangled beyond words.
Why had William taken that picture?
Olivia freaked out instantly: "Wait—what?! You two actually made up last night?! I KNEW that pic’s angle was too close—he tilt his head down one bit and you're basically kissing!"
"No, hold on!"
Then Olivia gasped dramatically, like some mystery had just cracked wide open: "Your lips! They're totally swollen! That’s after kissing for sure! He took the photo right after that!"
Elsie’s face turned bright red in an instant.
Her mind was a mess; thoughts bouncing everywhere. She looked at herself in the mirror, hand instinctively touching her lips.
The warmth under her fingers made her heart thump faster.
Was it really him?
No way… right?
But if it really was…

Elsie didn’t say a word.
On the other end of the call, Olivia sounded frazzled, like her phone was about to go up in smoke. “The media’s blowing up my phone! I can’t even keep up with declining the calls.”
“Should I say something?” Elsie asked, clearly worried.
“Say what?” Olivia snapped, frustrated. “Didn’t William already post something on Twitter? If anyone should speak up, it’s him. If he actually cared about protecting you, he should—”
Before she could finish, Elsie’s phone buzzed again.
The name “William” lit up on the screen.
Her heart skipped a beat out of reflex—maybe it was because of that photo he posted on Twitter, or maybe… maybe he wanted to talk in person. That tiny bit of hope crept in before she could stop it.
She told Olivia to hang on and answered the call after a deep breath. “Hello—”
“The driver’s downstairs,” William said quickly, his voice sharp and cold. “You need to head back to the old house now.”
Elsie froze, frowning as she instinctively objected, “But I hav

Chapter 15