Three years into their marriage, Julian Carter returned. For those three years, Logan Phillips had given Vivian Brooks everything—tending to her with quiet devotion at home, while drinking himself sick, after, for her company. Three years of blood, sweat, and silent sacrifice—all undone by two words: "He's back." Logan didn't argue. He signed the divorce papers, resigned from his position, and vanished without a trace. But Vivian's life fell apart like an overboiled pot. She showed up at his door, clutching a stack of voided contracts, the once-proud CEO now broken. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her gaze lowered, as she finally whispered, "Logan… help me." Logan smiled. His voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it. "Vivian, if you're asking for help, act like it. I played the loyal dog for three years. Maybe it's time for a change." … Flashback: Another drunken night. Logan staggered through the door, gripping the contract folder like a lifeline. The living room lights were on. Vivian sat on the couch, a burning between her fingers, her brows furrowed in irritation. The stench of hit her, and she crushed the with clear disdain. "You're back late," she said. The words might've been concern—but they sounded like a scolding, cold and distant. Drunk and flushed, Logan grinned and held out the folder like a kid showing off a trophy. His hazy eyes held nothing but her. "Viv, look—I got the Belgaro. Isn't this what you always wanted? If it matters to you, I'll make it happen, no matter what. I was unstoppable tonight. Drank every last one of them under the table. So? Am I good or am I good?" For just a second, the tension in her brow eased. She glanced down at the disheveled man before her, desperation written all over his face—like a dog begging for praise. She took the folder and murmured a quiet, "Thank you." Then, after a brief hesitation, she pulled out a document from her bag, her expression hardening. "Logan, let's get a divorce." Her words struck like lightning. Logan sobered instantly. He stared at the papers in her hand, stunned, then let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. "A divorce? But we've only been married for three—""Julian came back." Silence fell like dust after an avalanche. That name had always been forbidden in their marriage. Three years ago, Vivian's childhood sweetheart, Julian Carter, had left her to study medicine overseas—vanishing without a word. His absence shattered her. She collapsed inward, drowning in despair. It was Vivian's grandma who found Logan—a man who looked eerily like Julian—and made him an offer: Pretend to love Vivian, and in return, his dying mother would receive funds for the treatment she needed. His mother had. He didn't hesitate. He said yes. He staged a "chance" meeting with Vivian and launched into relentless pursuit. Soon, everyone in the industry knew that the icy CEO Vivian Brooks had a simp trailing after her. Say the word, and he'd do anything. Call, and he'd come running, no matter the hour. Pathetic. Laughable. A beggar at the throne of a queen—someone Vivian would never spare a second look. Until that one night. Vivian had pushed herself too far to close a, drinking until she vomited blood. In her haze, she called Logan. He came instantly. That night, he outdrank every rival, passing out himself—landing in the hospital for two days. When he woke up, the contract was still clutched in his hand. After that, Vivian never looked down on him again. "Logan, will you marry me?" she asked. For two years, he'd waited for her heart to turn toward him. Logan thought the storm had passed. That happiness had finally come. But later, he learned the truth from one of her friends. That night, the only reason she agreed to marry him was because Julian had posted a photo with another woman. She never loved him. And by then, Logan was in too deep to climb out. He'd even forgotten that this had always been a transaction. Tears burned in Logan's eyes as he clenched the divorce papers tighter. Three years of marriage—every Brooks Corporation had been won at the of a wine glass, paid for with his health and self-respect. The quiet, bookish man he'd once been had vanished, replaced by someone who stood silently behind Vivian, drank himself sick in her stead, and swallowed every humiliation without complaint. Yet none of it mattered. Not his devotion, not the value he'd built for her company. Julian's return erased everything in an instant. One announcement, and his entire world crumbled without a fight. For the first time, Logan felt… exhausted. "Alright." The word slipped out, soft and defeated, barely more than a whisper in the heavy silence. By dawn the next morning, Vivian was gone. Logan washed up mechanically. From the depths of his suitcase, he pulled out a contract and drove to the Brooks estate. The air in Grace Thompson's sitting room was thick and still. He sat upright on the sofa, just as he had three years ago—composed, but changed. "Grace, the three-year agreement is ending. I'd like to file for divorce." Grace hesitated. "You're sure?" She'd witnessed everything Logan had done these past years. Once, she'd even believed he'd stay by Vivian's side forever. Logan's gaze drifted to the window. Two sparrows perched together on a branch outside. A long silence stretched before he finally spoke. "You know why I was with Vivian. My mother was sick. And I looked enough like Julian to be useful. The agreement's almost up. Julian's back. She… doesn't need me anymore." Grace exhaled heavily, regret weighing her voice. "So you knew? I truly thought she'd started to care for you. Even stone warms after three years in the sun." She paused, then added gently, "If this is your choice, I won't stand in your way. Three years ago, you gave up furthering your studies for your mother. If you still want to pursue that, I'll arrange it." Outside, a nest of hatchlings chirped hungrily as their parents darted back and forth with food. Logan's expression grew distant. Three years frozen in place for Vivian. It was time to move on—to find his own life. "If possible… I'd like to go to Marlon City." His voice held quiet resolve. Something unreadable flickered in his eyes. "The agreement expires in three days. I'd like the paperwork settled before then." Grace hadn't expected such finality. She sighed, her tone tinged with sadness. "Marlon City? I'll need time. Within the month, I'll have a new identity ready for you—as compensation." She paused for awhile before continuing, "My eightieth birthday is the day after tomorrow. Who knows when we'll meet again? Stay for a drink before you go." Just as she finished speaking, the door flew open. Vivian stormed in, windblown and furious. "Logan, what the is this? You promised to help me last night, and now you're tattling to Grandma?" Grace's sharp eyes caught the redness around Logan's eyes. She immediately understood everything. Her voice turned icy. "Tattling? I called him here. You've been too busy with work to lift a finger for my birthday party. Am I not allowed his help?" Vivian swallowed the rest of her accusations, forcing a smile as she tried to smooth things over. "Grandma, I've just been caught up with work lately. I didn't mean to neglect you. If there's anything you need, just let Logan handle it. He'll take care of everything." She cast a quick, guarded glance at Logan. "I will," he replied simply, just as he had for the past three years. When they left the Brooks estate, Logan, as always, opened the car door for her before sliding into the driver's seat himself. He didn't say a word the entire way, which left Vivian feeling oddly unsettled. "I misunderstood you," she offered. Logan didn't show much emotion. He simply said, "It's fine." Two simple words—but they unsettled her. "You're upset with me, aren't you? The company's swamped with new projects, but don't worry—even after the divorce, your job's safe. You've been… an exceptional employee." Chapter 2 Logan let out a bitter laugh. He swallowed back the burning pressure behind his eyes. "Don't bother," he murmured. "I'm leaving the city." Vivian's parted—then closed. She'd always been most beautiful like this: silent. Regal as winter frost, that untouchable elegance that drew people in even as it kept them at arm's length. "This is my fault," she conceded at last. "Name your price. If it's within my means, it's yours." Money? Was three years of devotion really so cheap? Logan turned the wheel, guiding the car onto a tree-lined side road. Maybe Vivian never knew—they'd graduated from the same school. She had always stood out. Top of her class, skipping grades, dazzlingly brilliant. And breathtakingly beautiful. Campus forums had buzzed with her name. The Brooks Corporation's crown princess, groomed for the corner office since childhood—a future written in constellations far above his reach. Logan had always known the chasm between them. That's why he'd burned the midnight oil, chasing every accolade she'd touched, matching her achievement for achievement. Every competition she, he followed. Every first place she earned, he fought tooth and nail to achieve for himself. He had always thought it was nothing more than unrequited love, until Grace had approached him. "Stay by Vivian's side, and I'll save your mother." He had been overjoyed. No one knew that from the very beginning, his love for Vivian had been real. He'd written the script, played the role, then forgotten he was acting. Had she asked for his beating heart, he'd have carved it out himself with a smile. But she didn't want his life. She only wanted him gone. "Keep your money." Logan drew a steadying breath. "Come with me to Sacred High, our old school, if you’re." Vivian blinked, surprised. Perhaps she hadn't expected that Logan's grades had been good enough to get into such a prestigious school. After a beat, she nodded. "Alright." The car continued down the narrow path, and just as they were about to arrive, Vivian's phone rang. Whatever the caller said made her cheeks flush with color. A soft, shy smile touched her. "Okay. Wait for me." The moment she hung up, her whole demeanor changed. "Something came up. I can't go with you today. Let's do it another time." Before Logan could speak, she'd already called a business car and left without looking back. He didn't need to ask who had called. Who else could make Vivian light up like that, if not Julian? Not once, in three years of marriage, had Logan been able to bring out that kind of smile. There would be no "another time." After Grace's birthday, he'd vanish from the Brooks' world forever. Their marriage would fall like September leaves—a quiet surrender to gravity, brief gold against the pavement, then gone without a trace. Logan went to Sacred High alone, to where everything had started. In the hall of outstanding alumni, her photograph still hung—Vivian, radiant like the sun. He had never been like the others. From the moment he first saw her, Logan had loved Vivian with everything he had. The love he had for her was so pure, so absolute, that no one else could ever take her place. He reached up, fingertips grazing the image of the face he had fallen asleep next to so many times. How ironic. Only now, standing in front of this photograph, could he finally see her clearly. It had been a long time since they'd shared a bed. Even when they did, she came home late and left early. They had no time for the duties of husband and wife. Not even time for a proper conversation—yet they were already saying goodbye... Logan smiled. And as he smiled, his eyes turned red, until thick, soundless tears rolled down his cheeks. He swiped at them roughly, only then realizing what fell wasn't just tears, but the accumulated grief of three years. He waited at the school for hours, but Vivian never called. He left, empty and alone. But instead of going home, he found himself heading toward a law office. Logan handed the divorce agreement to his lawyer with solemn care—just as he had once, without hesitation, slipped a ring onto Vivian's finger and committed himself to marriage. "Mr. Phillips, are you certain you want to leave with nothing?" The lawyer flipped through the agreement Vivian had provided, his brows furrowing in disbelief. "The compensation your wife is offering... It's extremely generous. This kind of wealth is something most people can only dream of in a lifetime. Are you sure you want to walk away with nothing?""I'm sure. Revise the terms to zero." Logan's voice held steady. "Address the finalized copies to Ms. Vivian Brooks at the Brooks Corporation headquarters." The mention of the Brooks family deepened the lawyer's surprise. The Brooks were one of Bronfield City's most powerful and prestigious families. Vivian Brooks was said to be the only heiress to an empire—any man who married her would be marrying into a fortune. Yet here was Logan, choosing to leave empty-handed. Still, out of respect for his client's wishes, the lawyer nodded. "Understood," he said professionally. "Rest assured, I'll take care of everything." With those final arrangements made, Logan felt a weight lift from his. The phantom pressure on his heart—Vivian's invisible claim—finally lifted. The contract marriage that had bound them together… was finally coming to an end. He was finally going to return to a normal life. When Logan returned home, it came as no surprise—Vivian still hadn't. Her first love had returned from abroad. No doubt they had plenty to catch up on, plenty to say, plenty to do. And the thought of the woman he had always cherished but never dared to touch, now blooming in front of another man... made Logan wish he could disappear. But who was he to complain? He had never truly held her heart. And Vivian had only ever loved Julian. If anyone was the outsider in this marriage, it was him—the temporary stand-in who'd overstayed his welcome. With the real protagonist back in the picture, the only honorable choice left... was to bow out gracefully. At least his mother was still here with him. That was more than enough. Gritting his teeth against the hollow ache in his, he began pulling clothes from the closet. Every possession from the past three years fit perfectly into one 26-inch suitcase. Only then did he realize how little space he'd actually occupied in this home. So little that a single suitcase could contain it all. So little that his absence would leave no noticeable void in Vivian's life. This charade had gone on long enough. Vivian didn't come home for two whole days. … The day of Grace's birthday banquet arrived. Logan appeared in a sharply tailored white suit, a solitary yellow rose fastened to his lapel. If Vivian still cared, she would understand. The yellow rose symbolized farewell. His gaze found her instantly when he the ballroom. Vivian stood glowing at the center of attention, resplendent in a pale pink lily-print gown - the very image of a flower in full bloom: poised, confident, breathtaking. Beside her stood a stranger Logan recognized immediately. Julian. That name had haunted him—whispered drunkenly by Vivian, spoken with awe by Grace. Logan had often imagined this moment—how it would feel to finally face the man he'd measured himself against for years. Now, seeing them side by side...only shame remained. Julian was taller than he'd imagined, more refined. His every gesture carried natural elegance, an inborn sophistication. Together, Julian and Vivian looked perfect. A picture-perfect pairing. A fairytale prince and his rightful princess. Chapter 3 In three years of marriage, Logan had never once seen Vivian smile like that—not truly, not with her whole heart shining through. His sharp eyes caught the glint of silver on her finger—a new ring that didn't match their wedding set. She hadn't just moved on; she'd leapt into another man's arms without hesitation. It seemed she couldn't bear to waste another second on him. Logan's vision tinted red as his grip tightened around the wine glass, watching Vivian and Julian bask in the crowd's admiration like storybook lovers. "Julian, you're finally back!" Vivian's best friend teased, deliberately blocking Julian's path. "Do you know how many years Vivian's been pining for you? If you disappear again, none of us will forgive you!""Absolutely," another friend chimed in. "You kept her waiting all these years overseas. Aren't you going to make it up to her?" Julian's curled in amusement. "Isn't Viv married?" he taunted. "You're terrible!" Vivian flushed crimson, looking every bit the smitten schoolgirl as she clutched Julian's sleeve. Her lashes fluttered, eyes glistening. "He only resembled you—I never cared for him. Three years married, and I never let him touch me. My body... my heart... they've always been yours." Her voice grew softer with every word, her face flushed a lovely shade of pink. Then, with mock indignation, she added, "If you keep teasing me, I'll get angry." Julian chuckled, tweaking her nose affectionately. "All right, I won't say another word." Their playful banter continued as friends egged them on. "Kiss! Kiss!" Logan's world blurred at the edges. They weren't even divorced yet. This was Grace's birthday celebration. And here he stood—her legal husband - being publicly humiliated. The stem of the wine glass snapped in his hand. Only when the metallic scent of blood filled his nose did Logan slowly come back to himself. Just then, his phone vibrated. It was a message from his lawyer. The updated divorce agreement had been finalized. All the revisions were in place. It only needed to be delivered to the Brooks Corporation at the agreed time. After tonight, he'd be gone. By the time Vivian received the documents, he and his mother would already be in Marlon City... A server rushed over with a first aid kit. As his hand was being bandaged, Vivian finally noticed him. Logan hoped for even a flicker of remorse. Instead, she approached with practiced poise. "Can't you be more careful?" she chided lightly. "Bleeding at Grandma's birthday… How tasteless." There was no worry in her voice. Just criticism. Julian followed behind her, and upon seeing Logan—the stand-in—he suddenly burst into laughter. Julian followed, bursting into laughter when he saw Logan. "Viv, your grandmother has quite the imagination," he mocked. "She found someone who vaguely resembles me… Though the height, the posture... it's all wrong. I expected better likeness. The eyes? Not even close." Each word pierced like a blade. Julian wasn't just dismissing Logan's feelings - he was demeaning his very manhood. Logan drew a steadying breath. "Hello," he said evenly. "I'm Logan Phillips. Vivian's husband." Vivian's face changed instantly, but he ignored her fury and said the word anyway. Husband. Since everything was ending, he at least wanted to walk away with dignity. "What's your problem?" Vivian snapped. "You know what Julian means to me. Are you trying to cause a scene?""What does he mean to you?" Logan countered—the first time in three years he'd ever raised his voice to her. "Until those papers are signed, I'm still your husband. Even if Grace approves, have some decency." Her mouth fell open at his uncharacteristic defiance. Flushing with embarrassment, she stepped protectively in front of Julian. "We're getting divorced," she hissed. "I gave you the papers, didn't I? If we're ending it, there's no love left! What happens between Julian and me is none of your concern." Vivian's expression turned cold, her voice sharp and cutting, afraid that Logan's words might upset Julian again. She had always carried herself with elegance and restraint, and Logan never imagined that a woman like her…could lose her composure like this, saying such cruel things without a second thought, all for the sake of her first love. How deeply must she love Julian, to twist herself into someone even her husband of three years no longer recognized? Just as Logan opened his mouth to speak again, the banquet officially began. "Let's go. Ignore this lunatic." Vivian tugged Julian's arm and walked away without hesitation, leaving Logan standing alone like a joke. As he watched them disappear into the crowd, a strange calm washed over him. Perhaps it was better this way. Everyone else would be happy. Only he would be left behind to endure the pain. But maybe—just maybe—if he left for good, erased this place from memory, and started over… She could finally be truly happy. And if divorcing her could give the woman he had loved for so long even a sliver of joy, then letting go was something he could bear. 'Vivian, let this be the end. From this day forward, let us be strangers,' he thought inwardly. After saying his final goodbye to Grandma and leaving behind the birthday gift, Logan picked up his suitcase and walked out. Just as he stepped through the gates of the old estate, he ran into Vivian's younger sister. The girl was sixteen or seventeen at most, but her tongue was sharp and merciless. "Well, if it isn't my brother-in-law. What's with the suitcase? Where are you off to? Now that Julian's back, are you actually packing up for real this time? Or is this just another drama? "If you're trying to get my sister's attention, give it up. She never cared about you. You only got her because you were shameless enough to cling on like a stray mutt!" To her, her sister's marriage had always been wasted potential—a rose planted in quicksand. And stacked up against Julian? Logan wasn't just inferior—he was garbage. Logan froze mid-step. Then he slowly turned, his voice calm but deliberate. "I'm leaving. Please tell her something for me. Congratulations. I hope they have beautiful children together—soon." His composure caught her off guard. For a moment, Vivian's sister faltered. She stole an uncertain glance toward the banquet hall before recovering her sneer. "Whatever. Viv never wanted you anyway. Julian's all she's ever needed." Logan walked away and didn't glance back. Not once. For the first time in a long while, he felt a flicker of anticipation. He wondered what Vivian's reaction would be when she finally discovered that the man she tried so hard to humiliate with money… had taken nothing at all. Not a cent. Three years together, through days and nights, through everything. Logan had once believed that if he couldn't have her love, he would at least command her respect. But in this final moment, he understood. To Vivian, he'd never been anything but a temporary substitute. A well-trained stand-in, jumping at her every command—convenient when needed, disposable when replaced. And walking away without a dime? That was his final act of defiance. Chapter 4 It wasn't until Logan had disappeared from view that Ivy Brooks sensed something was wrong. Panicked, she ran back into the banquet hall, wanting to tell Vivian. But Vivian was nestled in Julian's embrace, her eyes with affection, too wrapped up in the moment to notice anyone else. Ivy told herself it was nothing—that Logan was just pulling another stunt to get her sister's attention. He loved Vivian that much. Would he really be willing to leave? She turned to glance at Vivian again. Seeing her sister resting so intimately against Julian, Ivy hesitated. The words never made it out. The banquet didn't end until late. Only then did Vivian finally notice that Logan was missing. With her grandmother present, she hadn't dared to leave openly with Julian. And after Logan had embarrassed her in front of everyone, she was determined to have a serious talk with him. She couldn't risk upsetting Julian again. She called him repeatedly, but no one picked up. Her brows knitted tighter with every unanswered ring. A strange unease crept up her spine. What was going on? Logan had never dared ignore her calls before. But tonight, he'd vanished—completely. Fuming, she rushed home—only to find that every trace of Logan had been erased. His clothes, his belongings, even the faint scent of him that used to linger in the room—gone. It was as if he had never lived there at all. For the first time, a flicker of panic lit up in Vivian's. … Meanwhile, at a hotel, Logan's mother sat weakly at the edge of the bed, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. "This is all my fault," she said, her voice trembling. "If I hadn't gotten sick, you wouldn't have agreed to marry Vivian. Now you've suffered so much humiliation… it breaks my heart." Two people. Three suitcases. Logan suddenly felt like a weed adrift in the wind—rootless, without a home. He had once made Vivian his entire world. Now, stepping away from her, he felt like a stray dog that had lost its owner. But he couldn't afford to collapse. His mother still needed him. For years, she had lived in a property arranged by the Brooks family. Logan had savings of his own, but his sights were set on Marlon City. Grace had already begun the arrangements. In twenty-nine days, he would leave this place for good. "Mom, I'm not suffering," he said gently. "It's just… we'll have to manage in the hotel for now." Tomorrow, he would go to the Brooks Corporation to submit his resignation. … Vivian stayed up all night waiting, but Logan never came home. She stormed into the office next morning, only to be handed his resignation letter. The suddenness left her stunned. Overnight, Logan had become someone new—a stranger in a black overcoat, expression sharp, demeanor icy. His tone was all business, as if their three-year marriage had never happened. "Vivian," he said crisply. "All handovers are complete. Here's my resignation. Please sign." Vivian didn't even glance at the document. Her beautiful eyes locked onto his, disbelief curdling into scorn. "What game are you playing now, Logan? Of all days, you pull this today?" Each word cut deeper. He thought he was numb. But seeing that look in her eyes—the woman he'd loved—still felt like a knife twisting in his. His breath caught. His scarred heart bled fresh. "Sign it," he said at last, voice low and strained. "Let's end our working relationship." 'Just like this sham of a marriage,' he thought silently. For the first time, Vivian felt cornered by him. Her eyes swept over his face, now void of warmth, and she sneered. "Fine, Logan. Don't come crawling back later." She signed with a flourish. Logan exhaled—finally able to breathe. Would he regret this? Logan had lost count of how many times he had been enamored by her face, from its youthful innocence to the kind of beauty that could make countless men's hearts race. Yet all these years, no matter how hard he tried, Vivian had never truly seen him. He was exhausted. Sometimes he wondered: If they'd never met, would his heart hurt this badly? But there was no way to know the answer. Their marriage had seemed fated. That resemblance to Julian had saved his mother's life. The gratitude he'd once felt now burned as hatred. "Vivian." Just before leaving, Logan's voice finally softened. She thought he'd come to his senses, that he was ready to admit fault—so she prepared to scold him triumphantly. But Logan simply looked at her, calm and composed, and said quietly, "I wish you happiness." Four words. Four words that carried the weight of their entire relationship. Vivian's mouth opened. Nothing came out. The light seemed to dim around her as Logan—who'd once worshipped her—finally shut her out of his gaze. It wasn't until he walked out of the Brooks Corporation building that Logan finally tasted what freedom felt like. He'd lost the love of his life. But at last... he was. … That night, Vivian came home unusually early. But the house—once warm—felt even darker, emptier than the day before. Because of her strict cleanliness, she'd never allowed a housekeeper. Every meal, every chore, every detail of the home had been handled by Logan. Now that he was gone, the space felt hollow. She clung to one fragile hope: maybe this was just another one of his moods, a temporary absence to test her. Surely he'd come crawling back once he cooled off. Just then, her phone chimed. [Viv, I'm outside your door. I miss you so much.] Vivian tapped on the message hurriedly. It was from Julian. A flicker of disappointment crossed her face before she opened the door. There he stood in a fitted shirt, black suitcase in hand. He pinned her against the wall immediately, kisses hot and demanding. "I heard you two split up. From now on, let me take care of you." His words moved her to tears. But when Julian carried her to bed, Vivian instinctively pushed him away. She froze. She didn't know why, but something about his touch repelled her. It didn't feel right. She opened her mouth to explain, but Julian beat her to it, gently patting her back as he spoke. "It's okay, Viv. I know you're hurting right now. I'll wait. However long it takes, I'll wait." His words were gentle, but in the darkness, his eyes glinted coldly. By dawn, Vivian's phone was flooded with missed calls—eighteen in total—and over thirty voice messages. She was fully awake now. [Ms. Brooks, we have a problem. The partner is demanding that Logan personally oversee the project before they sign. They said they've only worked with him from the start and won't accept anyone else.] [Ms. Brooks, they said if we don't respond today, the is off. Accounting ran the numbers. We're looking at seven-figure losses...] Vivian stared blankly at the screen. What was going on? Hadn't the project already been handed over? Had Logan sabotaged her? That! She dialed frantically—call after call—but every one went straight to voicemail. Only then did the truth hit: this wasn't a ploy. Logan was really gone. Really... leaving her. "What's wrong?" Julian asked, wrapping his arms around her from behind. Vivian's palms had begun to sweat. "I need to find Logan." At the mention of that name, Julian's arms slipped away. "We're together now," he said coolly. "Why are you looking for that substitute? Have you fallen for him?" "No! It's not like that!" Vivian quickly explained, "Something happened at the company. I need him to come back and take care of it. Just wait here, okay?" She scrambled to get dressed, barely combed her hair, and rushed out the door. But as she rushed out, a cruel realization struck: she didn't know where to look. She barely knew Logan at all. The company was pressuring her relentlessly. In the past, no matter what happened, Logan had always shielded her, taking the brunt of every storm. But now, with the mess laid bare before her, she realized she couldn't fix any of it on her own. Chapter 5 In her panic, Vivian finally dialed her grandmother's number. Her voice was hollow, and her overwhelming anxiety made it tremble faintly. "Grandma… do you know where Logan went?" Grace hadn't expected her granddaughter to ever show concern for Logan. She was ready to scold her, but in the end, she swallowed her words. "I don't know." A deliberate evasion—her way of protecting Logan. Three years had passed. Whether it was regret or remorse, Vivian had to own the consequences of her choices. She had no right to disturb his life anymore. Yet Vivian heard the hesitation between the lines. Eyes bloodshot with desperation, she floored the accelerator and sped to the Brooks estate in her red convertible. The moment she arrived, she dropped to her knees before her grandmother. "Grandma… I've made a mess." It was the first time since taking over the Brooks Corporation that Vivian had looked this shaken. Only then did Grace realize the severity of the situation. "What happened?" "Logan resigned," Vivian said, her voice cracking. "And now the partner he'd been handling wants to cancel the contract. The company is looking at a seven-figure loss! "To secure that project, I pushed aside every other partnership for the second half of the year. If we can't lock this in now, the company's going to bleed half a year's profits. I'm afraid..." She couldn't even finish her sentence. Yes, she was the official heir to the Brooks Corporation, but the board was filled with shrewd old men—none of them easy to with. If they got wind of this blunder, if they saw her fumble at such a critical moment… they would seize the opportunity to pull her down from the top. Years of her grandmother's grooming and support would be gone in a flash. "You—you!" Grace was so furious her hands trembled. "How many times have I told you that Logan was your greatest asset? But you had to keep chasing that pretty boy Julian like some love-struck fool. And now, when everything falls apart, it's him you run back to? When he gave you his whole heart, did you value it?" She scolded bitterly, disappointed beyond words. Vivian stayed, not daring to breathe too loudly. Her phone buzzed non-stop, but she couldn't bring herself to answer. She finally powered it off. There was only one way to fix this now—she had to find Logan. "Fine," Grace sighed after a long pause. "For your sake… even if it costs me my dignity." She scribbled down an address and handed it to Vivian. Before she let her go, she added one final reminder. "He has nothing to do with you anymore. So mind your attitude. Speak nicely, and ask for help—beg, if you must. He loved you once. He won't be that cruel." Vivian bit her and nodded. … At the hotel, a sharp knock sounded at the door. Wrapped in a bath towel, Logan answered slowly. He had been in the middle of a shower, his dark hair still dripping wet. His firm, sculpted abs and V-shaped torso glistened under the doorway light. When he saw Vivian standing outside, he froze for a second. Then, wordlessly, he turned to shut the door. "Wait... Logan." He paused. "I… I need to talk to you. Can I come in?" She didn't dare meet his eyes, let alone look at his body. Even after three years of marriage, this was the first time she had seen him like this—bare, up close. He had always been the man who slept beside her. And yet… she had never known his body looked this good. Logan hadn't planned to entertain her. But only Grace knew where he was staying. Which could only mean—Vivian was in real trouble. "Come in," he said at last. After loving her for so many years, no matter how hard he tried, he still couldn't bring himself to be truly heartless. With a calm expression, Logan changed clothes right in front of her. The crisp white shirt hung open casually on his body as he leaned against the minibar, pouring her a cup of tea. His laid-back manner carried a roguish charm and an unexpected sensuality—completely different from the man she used to know. Gone was the Logan who staggered home drunk every night, desperate to please her. This man was unbothered and self-assured. Vivian found herself staring, momentarily lost. "So?" he asked, snapping her back to reality. "What do you want? I don't have all day." His indifference jarred her. The contrast between who he used to be and who stood before her now left a strange feeling. Clenching her fists, she lowered her head. "The clients said they'll only continue the if you're the one handling it. There's a dinner tonight. Can you… can you come?" She rushed to add, "I'll go with you.""Go with me?" Logan echoed, laughing coldly. Coming from her, the offer felt more like a favor than a request. Was he supposed to be grateful? For the past three years, he'd handled every business negotiation and social dinner all alone. Even when the drinking pushed him to the brink of a bleeding ulcer, Vivian had never once shown concern, let alone accompany him to one. She thought those men were beneath her. He… had simply never been able to say no to her. As he took a sip of water, his gaze drifted—then landed on something. A faint mark on her. A kiss mark. His back went rigid. The glass trembled in his hand. He had been gone just one day, and she couldn't wait? "Don't you have a new boyfriend now?" His voice dropped, razor-sharp. "Why not ask him to accompany you?" His sarcasm was brutal, each word like a slap. He slammed the glass down. "I'm sorry, my place is too small for a woman who can't choose which bed to sleep in. Get out." In three years of marriage, it was the first time Logan had spoken to her with such venom. Vivian froze, stunned. Her eyes reddened with disbelief. "Logan, was that really necessary? When we got married, didn't the Brooks family solve your biggest crisis? If I hadn't needed something, do you think Grandma would've even approached you? That I would've married you?" The fury she had tried to suppress burst out all at once. The room snapped into a standstill—tension thick and choking. "Don't think I don't know about the contract you signed with my grandmother. You were only supposed to stay for three years. That was the, wasn't it?" Her words struck him silent. Yes. Back then, he hadn't dared to hope for more. So when Grace proposed a three-year arrangement, he had agreed without hesitation. But he had never planned on leaving. He had never wanted a divorce, not unless Vivian made it clear she would never love him, that she had no intention of ever seeing him as anything more than a placeholder. His breath quickened. He looked at the woman before him—so aggressive, so certain. And then at the fading imprint of someone else's on her. The woman he had protected for three years, cherished, respected, never once dared to touch without her consent, was now marked by the man who had once abandoned her. It made Logan want to lose control. He wasn't that noble after all. "You brought this on yourself, Vivian." In one swift motion, Logan yanked off his open shirt and pushed her back onto the bed. He straddled her, his breath heavy, his expression filled with pity—and something darker. "If you're asking for help, then act like it. I served you like a slave for three years. Tonight, let's switch. You make me happy," he whispered, leaning in close, "and I'll get the Brooks Corporation through the next six months without a hitch. How about that?" It was a transaction—fair and simple. Just a bit of initiative from her, and she could keep everything she cared about. Her CEO title, her pride, her company's future. Logan's body was already responding. Vivian's face turned crimson with shame.

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The knock came late at night, sharp and urgent. I’d just stepped out of the shower, towel slung low on my hips, when I saw her through the peephole—Vivian Brooks, drenched from the rain, clutching a folder like it was her last lifeline.

She looked nothing like the queen of the boardroom. Her hair clung to her face, mascara smudged, eyes red-rimmed. When I opened the door, she didn’t speak. Just stared at my chest, then quickly looked away.

"Logan," she whispered. "I need you."

I almost laughed. Three days ago, she’d let Julian mark her neck at her grandmother’s birthday. Now she was here, begging.

"The partner won’t sign without you," she said, voice cracking. "If we lose this deal, the company—"

"So find someone else," I cut in, leaning against the frame. "You’ve got a new boyfriend. Let him save you."

Her hands trembled. "He can’t. Only you can."

I studied her—the woman who’d made me drink until I bled for her deals, who’d called me pathetic, who’d chosen another man while I still wore her ring.

"Then prove it," I said, stepping closer. "Get on your knees. Right here. That’s the price."

Her breath hitched. "You’re serious?"

"Deadly."

The silence stretched. Rain tapped the window. Somewhere, a car alarm wailed.

She took a shaky step forward.

And I realized—this wasn’t just about the company anymore.