Chapter 28

Lilith’s apology video had gone viral overnight. Her tear-filled eyes and trembling voice declared innocence: “I didn’t know anything. I only did what Noelle told me... I was so naive.” The internet exploded in sympathy.

Noelle, however, wasn’t having it.

She fired back online, her comments sharp and unforgiving—until, one by one, her posts were mysteriously deleted, her account shadow banned. It was obvious: Justin’s PR team had taken over, spinning the narrative, painting Lilith as a fragile, innocent angel betrayed by her conniving handler.

After all, what did a sweet new face like Lilith know about the dark underworld of marketing manipulation? Noelle, on the other hand—an industry veteran—was easy to cast as the villain.

But the illusion was cracking.

As I scrolled through X, a post from a throwaway account caught my eye:

User-7898093: “Lilith, I trusted you! You’re the real snake! You blocked me and even threatened me?! How dare you!”

I tapped to read more—but it was already gone. Account suspended. Wiped clean.

Justin had pulled out all the stops this time.

I glanced at the video on my phone, the one where Lilith and Justin confessed everything, thinking no one was listening. I forwarded it to Noelle’s private email with a single message:

“You don’t know me. But I can’t stand what they’ve done to you. Save this video. Don’t release it yet; they’ll only bury it. If you trust me, hold on to it. When the time comes, I’ll tell you. And then, you’ll have your revenge.”

Her reply came fast: a single line of gratitude, followed by a phone number.

I didn’t need to write it down. I’d already committed it to memory.

Noelle would be one of the nails in Lilith’s coffin. But not yet. I didn’t want Lilith to fall now—I wanted her to rise higher. I wanted her to taste fame, feel unstoppable, think she’d finally made it to the top of the world… only to crash.

She would break. And that’s when it would matter.

“Mia?”

I startled at Kane’s voice behind me. I turned quickly, realizing my face was still twisted with resentment. I lowered my gaze, swallowed the bitterness, and forced a smile.

“I just got a little too excited looking at the herb garden,” I said softly.

The truth? I’d only just noticed it. The courtyard was already full of medicinal herbs I had been planning to plant. They weren’t just growing; they were thriving, even more vibrant than the ones back in the mountain village.

Kane crouched to place a pair of slippers in front of me.

“Put these on,” he said, tone gentle but firm. “Don’t go barefoot out here—you could cut yourself.”

“Okay,” I said obediently, slipping them on.

I glanced at the lush garden again. “Who did Zack hire to plant all these? It must’ve cost a fortune.”

I still hadn’t forgotten about that rented luxury car from the day before. Between that and all the rare herbs, it was hard not to worry about Kane’s finances—especially if that horrible woman had really bled him dry. He probably didn’t have much left.

Kane hesitated. “Just a regular gardener. Nothing expensive.”

Zack, standing nearby, twitched. Regular gardener? That was a full-on elite herb cultivation team disguised as laborers!

I pulled out my phone and quickly transferred some of the money I’d earned from the show. Kane’s phone dinged a second later.

“It’s from the show. I’m giving you half,” I said casually.

“Why?” he asked, blinking.

My cheeks warmed. “Well… post-marital property. We’re married, aren’t we?”

He froze, then laughed softly, though guilt flickered in his eyes. She had no idea how many zeroes were already sitting in her name.

He hadn’t technically lied about being poor. He just hadn’t told her the whole truth… yet. And he wasn’t ready to ruin this moment.

“I’ll make it up to her soon,” he thought.

Then he said aloud, “This afternoon, I want to show you something. One of my shops.”

I blinked. “You… have a shop?”

---

That afternoon, Zack drove us to a quiet corner of the South District. The place didn’t look like much from the outside—an old building, tucked between apartments and storefronts. The entrance was plain, the only sign a faded wooden plaque that read “Imperial Cuisine.”

Two weathered wooden doors stayed firmly shut until Zack knocked. After a long pause, they creaked open.

A pudgy middle-aged man in a plaid shirt stood there. He blinked, then smiled broadly. “Kane! Zack! Come in. And this must be your mate?”

I blushed. “Hi, I’m Mia.”

“No need to be shy,” the man said, stepping aside. “Come in. Make yourselves at home.”

Inside the gate was a hidden world: a bubbling koi pond, a rock garden, soft bamboo rustling in the breeze. It didn’t feel like a restaurant at all—it felt like someone’s backyard paradise.

Kane wheeled beside me. “It’s a private kitchen. Very low-key. The chef, Neville, is also my dad’s old friend.”

“Chef, not manager,” Neville called gruffly. “Don’t make me sound like some stiff suit. Mia, tell me what you want. I’ll make it.”

“I… don’t really know,” I admitted, glancing around. “There’s no menu?”

“Just make her what I usually have,” Kane said.

Zack slipped into the kitchen to help while Kane gave me a tour. “It’s small,” he said. “We only serve two tables a day.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That can’t bring in much income…”

He gave me a knowing smile. “It’s not about money.”

Not about money? I was starting to realize Kane wasn’t just being humble; he was hiding something.

Soon, Neville served the food: simple Western fare—juicy burgers, roasted turkey, golden apple pie, fish and chips, fresh veggie salad. It looked like comfort food… but the taste was anything but ordinary.

“This is amazing,” I murmured. “Tastes familiar…”

“It should,” Kane said. “Neville’s been making our meals since you moved in.”

“Oh! No wonder!”

Neville huffed. “If this brat had told me earlier, he was bringing his girl, I’d have made something fancier.”

Kane chuckled. “Next time.”

“You better,” Neville warned, already heading back for dessert.

Just then, Zack returned with a document. Kane handed it to me.

“This place—it’s yours now,” he said.

I stared. “What?”

“Marital property.”

My heart skipped. “No! I can’t accept this—it might be all you have.”

“If you refuse,” Kane said simply, “I’ll transfer your money back, too.”

He was serious. This wasn’t a gesture; it was a vow.

I nodded, lips pressing into a shaky smile. “Okay… But I still think it’s a tiny shop that doesn’t make much.”

Kane smiled, keeping his secrets tucked behind those unreadable eyes.