Mag-log inElena and Holden's story is told in the novel. Two people who are destined to spend their whole lives together aside their differences. Before they are husband and wife, they meet each other. They do not even manage to impress one someone because they're lost in their own worlds.
view moreIn the fall of 2015, Elena Xia sat quietly on a slow train heading from the countryside back to Darenvil. She had been sent away at the age of nine and left there for more than a decade. Now, she was being brought home—not for love, but for a marriage arranged by the Xia family.
The man she was to marry, the heir of Green Garden, was rumored to be dying. Her two half-sisters had refused to wed a man on his deathbed, so the Xia family brought back the forgotten daughter they had abandoned.
Elena lay on her narrow sleeper berth, reading a book, when the door suddenly burst open. A cold gust of wind swept in, carrying with it the metallic scent of blood.
Elena looked up.
A tall figure staggered through the doorway, collapsing heavily onto the cabin floor—unconscious.
Before she could react, several men dressed in black stormed inside.
“Boss, there’s no one here. Let’s finish him off,” one of them said.
“Who said there’s no one?”
Her breath caught. The stranger collapsing into her cabin had dragged danger straight to her. The Scar Man’s eyes were sharp, murderous. There was no doubt he intended to kill her.
Elena’s lashes trembled as she took in the guns in their hands. She whispered, voice shaking, “I didn’t see anything. Please… don’t hurt me.”
The Scar Man stepped closer. He couldn’t see her full face beneath her veil, only a pair of bright, delicate eyes watching him—pleading, trembling.
He froze, momentarily stunned.
He had never seen such eyes.
“Well,” he said with a filthy grin, “maybe we don’t need to kill you. You can keep us company instead.”
Elena’s slender body trembled. Her voice cracked beautifully.
The Scar Man, already twisted by desire, dropped his weapon and reached for her, starting to unfasten her buttons.
But before he could touch her, a pale hand shot forward.
He stared at her eyes again—no longer trembling, no longer frightened.
“You—”
A silver needle pierced precisely into his temple.
Scar Man collapsed without another word.
“Boss!”
Before the others could react, the unconscious man on the floor suddenly opened his eyes. In one swift motion, he seized a fallen gun and fired. One by one, the men in black dropped to the ground.
It ended in seconds.
Elena stared, stunned.
The man stood up slowly. His gaze met hers—dark, deep, like two silent abysses. Anyone who looked too long might drown in them.
“Master, we’re late,” his subordinate rushed in, quickly cleaning up the mess and handing him a fresh veil to wipe his hands.
The man approached Elena.
He reached out and held her chin between his fingers, forcing her to look up.
“What should I do with you now?” he asked softly, amusement curling at his lips.
His presence was overwhelming—cold, powerful, dangerous. Even after wiping his hands, she could still smell blood on him.
Elena slapped his hand away.
“Ridiculous. I am the woman betrothed to the man of Green Garden,” she declared. “If anything happens to me, do you have any idea what trouble you’ll bring upon yourself?”
His brows lifted in interest.
“A Darenvil native, then?” he asked slowly. “You should know the whole city is talking about the Xia daughter who’s set to marry into Green Garden.”
“That’s me. So let me go. I didn’t see anything, and I won’t say anything.”
Her voice was steady, confident—nothing like the trembling girl from moments ago.
The man’s eyes lingered on her. Despite her pale complexion and messy clothes, her gaze was sharp, intelligent. Unusual.
He finally turned away, glancing back only once.
“We will meet again,” he murmured.
…
The Li Palace Manor was alive with wedding preparations.
“Elena, your mother died when you were nine, and you pushed our grandfather down the stairs yourself,” Yosline Xia hissed in the bridal lounge. “You’re a disgrace. A dog of the Xia family, not a daughter. Don’t forget your place today.”
Elena looked at her reflection calmly, then asked,
“You are!” Yosline snapped.
Only then did Yosline realize Elena had walked around her without fear. Even with her veil on, Elena’s bright eyes glimmered like gemstones. Jealousy twisted in Yosline’s chest.
She prayed Elena’s face was ugly—how could a girl raised like dirt possibly be beautiful?
“Elena, this is your lucky day,” Yuan Li and her husband, Zander Xia, entered with important guests behind them. “Be grateful. You’re finally useful to the family.”
Elena woke up before dawn.The pain was no longer sharp. Just present. A dull reminder that her body had survived something her mind was still unpacking.The room was quiet.Too quiet.She turned her head and saw Holden sitting in the armchair by the window, jacket still on, tie loosened but not removed. He hadn’t slept there again.He hadn’t slept much at all since the attack.“You should rest,” she said softly.He looked up immediately, alert, as if he had been waiting for permission to breathe.“I’m fine.”She almost smiled at the lie.“You say that every time,” she murmured.“I need to.”That was the truth.Holden stood and came closer, careful, always careful now. He adjusted the blanket even though it didn’t need adjusting. Straightened the glass of water. Checked the IV like he didn’t trust the nurses.Obsessive wasn’t the right word.Terrified was.Elena studied him—really studied him—and saw the fractures he didn’t realize were visible. The tightness in his jaw. The way his e
Distance, Elena discovered, was not created by miles.It was created by rules.Within forty-eight hours of their argument, the rules appeared.They arrived quietly—like dust settling on furniture no one remembered moving.Her office access card no longer opened the executive elevator. Her calendar showed meetings she hadn’t approved and absences she hadn’t requested. People still greeted her with respect, but something fundamental had shifted.She was no longer inside.She was adjacent.Elena stood in the hallway outside the boardroom, staring at the frosted glass.Holden was inside.She could see his silhouette through the blur—still, authoritative, absolute.The door did not open for her.She didn’t knock.She turned away.That was the moment she understood: Holden hadn’t pushed her out in anger.He had done it calmly.Deliberately.As if he were amputating something he loved to save the rest of his body.At home, the atmosphere was worse.Holden was everywhere and nowhere at once.
Distance, Elena discovered, was not created by miles.It was created by rules.Within forty-eight hours of their argument, the rules appeared.They arrived quietly—like dust settling on furniture no one remembered moving.Her office access card no longer opened the executive elevator. Her calendar showed meetings she hadn’t approved and absences she hadn’t requested. People still greeted her with respect, but something fundamental had shifted.She was no longer inside.She was adjacent.Elena stood in the hallway outside the boardroom, staring at the frosted glass.Holden was inside.She could see his silhouette through the blur—still, authoritative, absolute.The door did not open for her.She didn’t knock.She turned away.That was the moment she understood: Holden hadn’t pushed her out in anger.He had done it calmly.Deliberately.As if he were amputating something he loved to save the rest of his body.At home, the atmosphere was worse.Holden was everywhere and nowhere at once.
Elena learned, slowly, that recovery was not the same as freedom.Her body had healed enough to move without pain, to breathe without effort, to sleep without medication. But something else had tightened around her life—something invisible, relentless.Holden.He controlled nothing openly.That was the most frightening part.He didn’t forbid her from leaving the house. He didn’t raise his voice when she spoke to board members. He didn’t place guards directly at her side.Instead, the world rearranged itself around her.Cars arrived before she called for them. Meetings were “rescheduled” moments before she confirmed attendance. People hesitated before answering her questions—then glanced past her shoulder, as if seeking permission from the air.From him.The realization settled like a bruise beneath her skin.This wasn’t protection.This was containment.One evening, she tested it.She left without telling him.No security notice. No assistant. No destination shared.Just her coat, her
Elena woke before dawn.Not because of pain—her body had finally begun to obey her again—but because of the quiet. The kind of silence that pressed too close, too aware.Holden was awake.She could feel it without opening her eyes.His presence had become that familiar: a weight in the room, steady
Recovery, Elena learned, was not a straight line.Some mornings she woke up feeling almost whole—steady legs, clear thoughts, breath that did not catch when she stood too quickly. Other mornings, the world tilted the moment she opened her eyes, and the ceiling above her felt unfamiliar, as if she h
Elena had always believed healing would feel like returning to herself.She was wrong.Recovery felt more like inhabiting a version of her body that no longer belonged entirely to her—every movement monitored, every decision questioned, every silence filled by someone else’s vigilance.By Holden’s.
The hospital at dawn was a place without shadows.Light crept through frosted windows, sterile and unforgiving, illuminating everything people usually preferred to keep hidden—fear, exhaustion, truth.Elena woke before the machines did.Her body ached in places she didn’t remember injuring. Bruises






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