Veronica was like a soulless statue, maintaining a surface calm in the penthouse apartment.

She no longer made any unnecessary eye contact with Casper. When he tried to talk to her, even about something as trivial as the weather, her answers were extremely brief, her tone as distant as if addressing a stranger who happened to be her landlord.


That kiss on the rainy night, along with all the previous vague warmth, had been completely sealed away in the ice cellar of her memory, together with that document filled with calculations.

Casper clearly noticed this dramatic change.

His gray-blue eyes lingered on her longer, no longer filled with pure scrutiny or occasional complexity, but with a kind of offended, increasingly impatient gloom.


He attempted to break through this layer of ice using his usual methods of control.

"There's a business banquet tomorrow evening, you need to attend," he announced during dinner, putting down his cutlery with a tone that brooked no argument.


Veronica raised her eyes, her gaze sweeping over him calmly. "Very well, Mr. Wolf. I'll be ready."

Her compliance lacked warmth, more like a programmed response. This thoroughly infuriated Casper. He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor with a harsh sound. He walked to her, his tall figure casting an oppressive shadow.

"What exactly are you sulking about?" his voice suppressed anger as he reached out to lift her chin, forcing her to look at him.

Veronica jerked her head away, her movement so quick it carried obvious disgust.

"I'm not throwing a tantrum, Mr. Wolfe," she said, enunciating each word with clear and sharp precision, "I'm simply fulfilling our contract, aren't I?"

Casper's pupils suddenly contracted as he stared at her intently, trying to extract more information from her face.

He suspected she might have learned something, but wasn't sure how much she knew.

"What do you know?" his voice dangerously lowered.

Veronica gave a cold laugh, stood up, and met his intimidating gaze without flinching.

"I know how my father's company was led step by step into a trap, I know why I ended up standing on that auction platform." Her voice trembled slightly with barely controlled anger, "Casper Wolfe, you were one of the architects of my family's disaster, yet you disguised yourself as a savior, bought me, trained me like a pet, made me feel towards you... towards you..."

She choked up, unable to say the rest, which would have been the greatest mockery of her own stupidity.

Casper's face turned extremely ugly under the light. He grabbed her wrist, his grip so strong that her bones ached.

"So what?" he moved closer to her, his breath hitting her face with a violent scent, "Now that you know the truth, what do you want to do? Escape? Where do you think you can run to? Don't forget, Veronica, your parents, your family, they're all still in my hands!"

Threats again. As always, this was his most effective method.

But this time, the fire in Veronica's eyes didn't extinguish; instead, it burned even more intensely. She forcefully shook off his hand, leaving a clear red mark around her wrist.

"I will no longer be threatened by you." Her voice was unusually calm, yet carried a desperate resolve, "If you dare to harm a hair on my parents' heads, I will expose everything to the public—how you used me, how you planned to take over the Hawthorne Group, and even those shady dealings between you and Reinhart. It might not be enough to shake your empire, but it's enough to cause you a world of scandal. Would you like to try, Mr. Wolf?"

She had turned the game tactics he once taught her against himself.

Casper was completely stunned.

He looked at her as if truly seeing this woman for the first time.

She was no longer that pale, helpless girl on the auction block, nor the "accomplice" who provided him with clues in the warehouse, and certainly not that slightly bewildered prey he had kissed on that rainy night. She had become a true opponent, one who dared to burn down everything with him.

This feeling of losing control triggered an unprecedented surge within him, a tide of fury mixed with a strange hint of excitement.

"Very well." He almost spat out these words through gritted teeth, his eyes terrifyingly grim. "It seems I indeed underestimated you."

He made no further attempt to communicate, turned around and strode out of the restaurant, the heavy slam of the door announcing the complete breakdown of negotiations.

Veronica knew the final moment had arrived.

She could wait no longer. Casper's patience was exhausted, and what awaited her next might be even stricter surveillance, or even more direct punishment that she couldn't bear.

Her escape plan had been rehearsed countless times during her sleepless nights.

She had observed the brief three-minute gap during security shift changes and memorized the location of a rarely used backup stairwell that led directly to the underground parking lot's cargo passage.

She even secretly hid a set of ordinary clothes suitable for mobility and a small amount of cash—accumulated little by little from the change at convenience stores during previous outings when she had used the excuse of buying feminine products.

The opportunity would come tonight. Casper, due to their conflict, was emotionally agitated and might relax his vigilance slightly, or focus more attention on how to "deal with" her rather than preventing her escape.

In the deep of night, when the clock pointed to 2 AM, the time when guards were most likely to become lax.

Veronica changed into the hidden clothes and tucked her long hair into an ordinary baseball cap. Like a nimble cat, she slipped out of her room silently, avoided the blind spot of the camera facing the main entrance in the hallway, and darted into the auxiliary stairwell.

The cold, dusty air hit her face. She didn't hesitate for a moment, racing quickly down the pitch-black staircase, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. Each second felt as long as a century.

She succeeded. At least the first step was successful. She reached the freight area of the underground parking garage and blended in behind a delivery truck that had just unloaded its cargo and was preparing to leave. Using the vehicle and shadows as cover, she slipped away from the skyscraper that had imprisoned her for months, like a drop of water merging into a river, without making a sound.

When the cold night wind truly brushed against her face, when she blended into the sparse crowd on the early morning streets, a nearly collapsing sense of freedom washed over her. But following this came an even deeper fear. She knew that Casper Wolfe would never let this go.

Meanwhile, in the master bedroom of the penthouse apartment, Casper was awakened by his butler's urgent communication.

"Sir, Miss Hawthorne... she's gone."

Casper suddenly sat up in bed, his face so dark in the darkness that it could drip water.

He walked to the surveillance screen, looking at the empty room, and the blurry, quickly disappearing figure in the stairwell.

He didn't rage, didn't roar. But the coldness radiating from his body almost froze the air in front of the screen.

He picked up the communicator, his voice terrifyingly calm, yet containing a devastating storm.

"Activate all tracking programs. Seal off every exit she might think of. Find her and bring her back to me."

He paused, his gray-blue eyes churning with extreme possessiveness and a ruthless fury like that of one whose ultimate taboo had been violated.

"Remember, I want her alive."