On the highway, Catherine Hudson stumbled out of the car, her body lurching forward as she hit the pavement hard.
Scraping her knee and ignoring the sting, she gripped her bathrobe tighter and pushed herself up, trying to steady her steps as cars zipped past in a blur of headlights and wind.
"Catherine! Get back here before I really lose it! One more step and I'll break your damn legs!" Maxwell Ellis shouted from behind her.
She glanced back, eyes blazing. "I'd rather die than go back with you..."
Her words were cut short as a truck blared its horn and barreled toward her.
Catherine turned her head.
Too late.
In a split second, the impact flung her into the air like a rag doll. And just before everything went dark, she caught a glimpse of Maxwell's face—handsome as ever, but for once twisted in something real: fear and despair.
Then—blackness.
Earlier that day, Maxwell stared at the photo on his phone, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.
In the picture, the woman he had loved for three years was cozied up next to another man—his own cousin. Their cheeks were touching as they smiled cheekily at the camera, the whole vibe unmistakably intimate.
"Mr. Ellis, we've confirmed it—Miss Hudson is staying in room 2025," said the man beside him, James Clark, personal assistant to Maxwell, the head of Cosmos Group.
Maxwell's fingers clenched tight around the phone, the skin at his knuckles turning pale—that photo had clearly hit a nerve.
Then, with a sharp "crack," he flung the phone to the ground, smashing it to pieces. As if that wasn't enough, he stomped hard twice on the shattered screen, as though trying to crush the image burned into his mind.
Room 2025. Top of the twentieth floor.
Before Maxwell could issue any orders, his men had already swiped the spare room keycard they'd gotten from hotel staff into the electronic lock.
The moment the door clicked open, the scene inside made Maxwell's blood pressure spike.
Right there on the unmade round bed lay a half-naked man, surrounded by clothes strewn across the floor.
He froze the moment Maxwell and his men barged in, guilt and embarrassment flashing across his face.
He looked like he'd just seen a ghost, voice shaky as he stammered, "Maxwell, why are you here..."
Before he could finish, Maxwell had already strode over like a storm out of hell. Without saying a word, he raised his hand and slapped Zachary Gomez hard across the face.
"Mr. Ellis, please—calm down," James quickly stepped in. "If someone gets seriously hurt, it'll be tough to explain to Zachary's parents. Remember, he's your first cousin."
Maxwell didn't even glance at him. His face was like stone, and he spoke with a coldness sharp enough to cut: "Where is she?"
The man on the bed looked like he might burst into tears, trembling as he pointed toward the bathroom. "She... she's in there..."
Maxwell didn't hesitate. He flung Zachary off the bed and stormed toward the bathroom. With a swift kick, he sent the door flying open.
Inside, a young woman in a white bathrobe was sitting curled up in the corner. Her long hair spilled over her shoulders like a waterfall. She was quietly playing with her phone, looking more like a fragile doll than a person caught in a scandal.
The loud bang startled her. Slowly, she raised her head, revealing a stunningly beautiful face. Her eyes met Maxwell's—at first, there was a flicker of fear, but it vanished fast. The corners of her lips curled into a mocking smile.
"You're here?"
There wasn't a hint of shame in her expression. If anything, she looked like a smug little cat testing how far it could push its owner.
