Chapter 6

Back in the car, Alinta was still fuming. Seeing Marisol silently focused on her phone, she assumed her friend was upset and immediately threw her arms around her in a tight hug.

"Mari… It's okay. Things will get better."

Marisol was both touched and amused by the sudden embrace—until a sharp pain shot through her shoulder blades, forcing a small whimper from her lips.

"What's wrong? What happened?" Alinta pulled back in alarm.

She hadn't seen Marisol cry since her marriage, so the sound instantly worried her.

Marisol winced. "Nothing, just... my shoulder hurts."

Alinta froze, then, she suddenly remembered how Zayne had blocked Marisol earlier. His arm had pressed hard against her shoulder blades.

The car was warm, so Alinta tugged down Marisol's collar without hesitation. Her eyes reddened the moment she saw the skin beneath. A dark bruise had already formed over Marisol's shoulder blade.

Zayne was trained, so his strength was far beyond average. Though Marisol was not a weakling herself, the force he'd used to stop her had been enough to leave a brutal mark.

And Marisol's fair skin made it worse. Even the lightest touch showed easily, but this? The mottled purple-blue stood out grotesquely against her pale complexion.

"Those bastards! Absolute bastards! They don't even treat people like humans!"

Alinta was livid. While Marisol remained eerily calm, Alinta was already sniffling as tears dripped down her cheeks.

"It's fine, really. I'll just put some ointment on it and let it heal."

Marisol patted her comfortingly, but when Alinta's misery didn't fade, she finally waved her phone in front of her.

"Look here," she said.

Alinta blinked through her tears, then gasped as her eyes widened in shock and delight. "But—you deleted all the photos!"

On the screen was exactly one of the pictures Zayne had forced her to erase earlier. It showed Lucian and Nevaeh caught in an intimate moment.

Marisol buttoned up her collar and smiled. "Did you forget what I do for a living?"

Though she'd initially studied computer science for Lucian, and despite him looking down on her, she'd applied herself seriously and reached expert-level proficiency. Recovering deleted photos was child's play for someone of her skills.

Alinta froze for a second before exclaiming, "Oh, right! You're absolutely amazing, babe!"

Carefully avoiding Marisol's injured shoulder, she buried her face in Marisol's embrace. She knew Marisol had never liked computer science. She'd only studied it for Lucian, who never appreciated the effort.

Even so, Alinta had always admired her best friend tremendously. Who else could become an expert at something they disliked? That took real talent!

"Don't worry," Alinta declared, pounding her chest for emphasis.

"This evidence alone might not be enough, but I'll make sure you get a clean divorce. Even if I have to go back to school and ask my professors for help, I won't let that cheating bastard get away with this!"

She added fiercely, "We don't want that trash anymore! There are plenty of better fish in the sea!"

Marisol smiled, deliberately ignoring the pinpricks of pain in her heart. With some concern, she asked, "But what about Zayne's threats today? Your career..."

Alinta waved her hand dismissively. "If I can't even handle my best friend's case, I don't deserve to be a lawyer. I might as well go home and inherit the family business."

Marisol knew Alinta was saying this to comfort her. Becoming a lawyer had always been Alinta's dream.

Why else would a wealthy heiress endure so much hardship to climb the professional ladder on her own? This wasn't something she could casually abandon.

But since Alinta had made her position so clear, refusing would seem like they weren't that close. It might even make Alinta angry. Marisol patted her head while smiling.

"Then I'll leave it in your hands. Anyway, I've decided to return to art and design. If all else fails, I'll hire you as my personal lawyer at a premium salary."

Alinta's eyes immediately lit up with excitement. "You've finally come to your senses!"

After all, Marisol's artistic design skills were absolutely top-tier!

She had reached expert level even in computer science, which she claimed wasn't her natural talent. Her design skills were even more extraordinary as she'd been recognized as a prodigy in her early teens. She'd been training under an internationally famous master of traditional fashion design.

Her mentor happened to be one of the 13 founding members of the world's premier haute couture brands, with extensive resources and deep connections.

Unfortunately, due to family circumstances and her subsequent decision to switch to computer science for Lucian after marriage, she had wasted many precious years. Given Marisol's natural gift, she'd hit the ground running with unlimited potential if she returned to design now.

…

Both of them had work the next day, so after chatting a while longer, they went their separate ways home. Marisol had just returned to her flat near the company when her phone suddenly vibrated.

She wondered who would be messaging at this hour.

Opening it curiously, she froze in surprise. It was a message from Emilia.

She hadn't dared call directly earlier and hadn't held much hope when sending that text. Yet her great-aunt replied the same day.

She quickly opened the message that read, "I'm abroad for the famous Gilramore Fashion Week, then heading to Aeredale for Haute Couture Week.

"We'll discuss your issue when I return at month's end. Bring me your latest portfolio."

After seven years apart, Emilia remained as brisk and businesslike as ever. But the fact she responded at all meant there was hope for reconciliation between them. Some of the tension Marisol had carried all evening finally eased.

At least one good thing happened today.

With about two weeks until the month's end, she needed to prepare thoroughly while wrapping up her current work. Emilia had always been strictly professional as she was someone who judged by skill alone, never by familial ties.

Distracted by these thoughts, Marisol showered, applied medicine to her shoulder, and went to bed.

Just before falling asleep, she felt she'd forgotten something important, but exhaustion overwhelmed her before she could recall what it was.

…

Back at the Muller Manor, also known as the Crimson Oaks Estate, the household staff had already gone to bed, leaving Andre alone in his room to stay up late playing games.

By early morning, he had grown bored and frustrated. He didn't want to call his mother as she would always say the same things. She would be nagging and lecturing until it drove him crazy. But being home alone was so boring.

Nevaeh was the only one who really knew how to have fun with him. His mother was so dull.

That afternoon at his father's office, he'd barely gotten to spend time with Nevaeh before his father had Simon bring him home, saying they had important business but promising to return tonight.

What liars!

Andre clutched his phone and called Lucian. After several rings, the call finally connected.

Andre complained immediately, "Dad, when are you coming home?"

Lucian's voice remained calm. "Didn't your mother return from her business trip? Have her stay with you for now."

"She's not here!" Andre's voice grew more petulant. "Dad, you're such a liar!"

Lucian sounded surprised. "Your mother didn't come home?"

Hadn't her business trip ended? She'd even been following and photographing him earlier today.

How could she not have returned home? Was she throwing a tantrum because of what had happened tonight? But shouldn't she be punished for stalking him and taking those photos anyway?

Lucian found Marisol completely unreasonable. She'd always come crawling back eventually, as she always did. He dismissed the matter from his mind.

"No!" Andre shouted angrily.

"And I don't want Mom anyway! She's so annoying! Dad, just come home!"

Andre was fuming now when suddenly, Nevaeh's voice came through the phone: "Lucian, who is it?"