The Lawrence Group anniversary gala was a sea of wealth and power.

When I entered on Henry Lawrence's arm, every eye in the room turned to stare.


Henry Lawrence—Ethan and Zachary's father and chairman of the Lawrence Group.

My entrance with him had been orchestrated entirely by Ethan.

Last night, Ethan had me whisper something in his father's ear.


This morning, Henry had appeared at our door, his expression unreadable. "Tonight, you'll accompany me to the gala."

I don't know what Ethan told him, but from that moment, my position in the Lawrence family shifted dramatically.


I wore the fire-red gown I'd modified, my hair styled in loose waves, my makeup flawless.

The moment we entered, whispers and gasps rippled through the crowd.

"Isn't that the Johnson family's fake daughter? Why is she with Chairman Lawrence?"

"Wasn't she married to the vegetable? Well, she certainly moved on to the father quickly enough."

"That dress—isn't it the new Chanel piece? I've been waitlisted for months and still can't get one!"

Luna and Zachary stood nearby, their faces darkening instantly when they spotted me on Henry's arm.

Luna in particular looked ready to combust, her glare burning with hatred.

She couldn't comprehend how I—who should have been crushed beneath her heel—now outshone her completely.

I raised my champagne flute in her direction, flashing a dazzling smile.

Her lips trembled with barely contained rage.

Zachary strode over, hissing under his breath: "What game are you playing? How did you convince my father to bring you?"

Before I could answer, Henry cut in with an icy stare.

"Is there a problem with my eldest son's wife accompanying me to our family's event?"

Zachary stood speechless, his face cycling through various shades of shock.

"Dad, I didn't mean—"

"If that's not what you meant, then shut up," Henry's tone was glacial. "Go make yourself useful with the guests."

Zachary shot me a venomous glare before slinking away.

I savored the moment. So this was what having real power felt like.

Midway through the evening came the ceremonial cake cutting.

Henry took the stage for his chairman's address.

Luna stood beside Zachary on stage, radiating smugness, already playing the role of future Lawrence matriarch.

She wore the sapphire gown I'd "gifted" her, looking undeniably beautiful, like royalty.

While smiling for the cameras, she shot me a sidelong glance filled with malice and anticipation.

I knew her trap was about to spring.

Right on cue, a waiter with a loaded tray "accidentally" veered toward me.

I was ready—as he approached, I subtly shifted my foot.

The waiter yelped as he stumbled, his trajectory altered toward the person beside me.

That person happened to be one of Luna's closest friends.

"Ah!"

Glass shattered as the woman screamed.

Red wine cascaded down her designer gown.

Chaos erupted around us.

I remained perfectly poised, champagne in hand, as if completely uninvolved in the commotion.

Luna's face contorted with fury.

She hadn't expected me to evade her trap.

Refusing to admit defeat, she grabbed a wine glass and glided toward me.

"Sister, are you alright? That was quite frightening," she simpered with fake concern before "losing her balance" and lurching toward me.

The wine glass in her hand aimed precisely at my dress's vulnerable zipper.

Watching her amateur performance, I couldn't help but smile coldly.

A split second before impact, I stepped smoothly backward.

Simultaneously, my champagne glass "accidentally" slipped from my fingers. The golden liquid arced gracefully through the air, drenching Luna's face and décolletage.

"Oh my goodness! Are you alright, dear?" I gasped with exaggerated concern.

Luna stood dripping, her perfect makeup streaming down her face, her carefully styled hair plastered to her head.

Her million-dollar sapphire gown clung transparently to her chest, revealing the outline of her undergarments.

Every eye in the room locked onto her humiliation.

"You bitch!" She finally dropped all pretense, lunging at me with clawed fingers. "I'll destroy you!"

Her manicured nails aimed straight for my face—they would leave scars if they connected.

Suddenly, a strong arm pulled me backward into a solid chest.

Another hand shot out, catching Luna's wrist mid-strike.

"Miss Johnson," a cold, raspy voice cut through the silence—not loud, but carrying to every corner of the room. "Who exactly are you planning to destroy?"

That voice…

I whirled around to find myself staring into those familiar, fathomless dark eyes.

It was Ethan Lawrence.

Somehow, he had materialized behind me.

He wore an impeccably tailored black suit, standing tall, his features carved from stone.

He was no longer the bedridden patient, but the legendary ruthless heir to the Lawrence empire.

He was awake.

And he had chosen to make his return with the dramatic flair of a conquering king.