In the elite circles of the city, Evelyn Sullivan was nothing more than a beautiful trophy—a "clinging vine" who used a family contract to trap the cold-hearted billionaire, Christian Lancaster, in a loveless marriage for three years. To Christian, Evelyn was a boring, useless housewife who only knew how to tend to flowers. On their wedding night, he left her alone in an empty mansion. For years, he flaunted his scandals with his "true love" while treating Evelyn with nothing but disdain. He waited for the day he could finally cast her aside. What Christian didn't know was that the "discarded wife" he despised was a legend in disguise. She is the "Miracle Doctor" who can snatch lives from the grip of death; She is the mysterious "Shadow Designer" who dominates the international fashion scene; She is the "Ghost Hacker" who keeps the world’s tech giants awake at night; And she is the hidden majority shareholder of the world’s most powerful conglomerates. Opening a flower shop? That was merely a final promise to her late grandmother. When his past obsession returned, Christian threw the divorce papers at her face. "Sign it and leave. You get nothing." Evelyn signed without a single tear. "Deal." But the moment she walked away, the world went mad. Christian watched in horror as his rival—Sebastian Thorne, the ruthless king of the underworld's business empire—pulled Evelyn into his arms and whispered to the world: "Meet my wife, and the mother of my unborn child." Evelyn wasn't just leaving; she was taking her empire with her. As her secret identities were unmasked one by one, Christian realized he hadn't just lost a "useless wife"—he had thrown away the most powerful woman in the world. He begged for a second chance on his knees, but Evelyn didn't even look back. With a powerful protector by her side and the world at her feet, she was finally the master of her own destiny.

Chapter 1The late autumn twilight bled across the sky, dyeing the rose garden outside The Lancaster Estate's floor-to-ceiling windows a brilliant crimson.Evelyn Sullivan stood at the kitchen counter wearing an apron, her fingertips dusted with flour. The third-anniversary cake was finally finished. Its edges were decorated with light purple frosting and fresh rose petals—the ones she had painstakingly handpicked from the garden that morning, still damp with dew.Her phone buzzed.She wiped her hands and tapped the screen. It was a message from Christian Lancaster's assistant: "Mr. Lancaster has a transnational conference call tonight. Do not wait up for his dinner."The brief, official tone was suffocating, every word exuding a chilling indifference.Evelyn lowered her eyelashes, gently setting the phone back on the marble counter. How many times had she received a message like this over the past three years? She had lost count. The first time, she had been heartbroken. The second time, disappointed. The third, the fourth... until now, all that remained was a numb, suffocating tranquility."Mrs. Lancaster, these dishes..." Arthur, the seasoned butler, stood at the kitchen doorway, hesitating to speak.Twelve dishes were already arranged on the dining table, all catered to Christian's exact preferences. Pan-seared sea bass, black truffle baked lobster, red wine braised beef cheeks... Every single dish was prepared with painstaking effort, just like every single day of the past three years."Let's wait a bit longer," Evelyn said, her voice soft. "Maybe the meeting will end early."Arthur looked at her slender silhouette and sighed inwardly. The young madam was always like this—docile and quiet, like a rose blooming alone in the shadows, blossoming in isolation with no one to appreciate her beauty.The antique clock on the wall struck seven.Evelyn untied her apron and walked into the living room. The massive LCD television was broadcasting the financial news. She picked up the remote to turn it off, but her movements froze the very next second.The screen cut to the VIP terminal of the international airport."Good evening, viewers. It is exactly seven o'clock. The person who just arrived at the international airport is none other than the internationally acclaimed ballet artist, Lyra Langford, returning after five years abroad! Surprisingly, she is holding the hand of a little boy, roughly three years old—"The camera zoomed in.A woman in a flowing white dress slowly walked out of the terminal. She wore dark sunglasses, her long hair cascading over her shoulders, looking elegant and flawless even after a long flight. Her hand tightly gripped that of a little boy in a tiny tailored suit. The boy had exquisite features, resembling a porcelain doll in a high-end boutique window.A reporter shoved a microphone almost directly into Lyra's face. "Ms. Langford! May we ask who this child is?"Lyra quickly crouched down, pulling the boy securely into her embrace. Her voice was firm. "I apologize... This is my private life. I am not at liberty to disclose anything."Her hesitant demeanor instantly sent the crowd into a frenzy.More reporters swarmed forward. "Who is the child's father? Did you secretly get married abroad?""What are your plans for returning this time?""Rumor has it that you and the CEO of Lancaster Group, Mr. Christian Lancaster, used to be lovers. Is that true?"Right in the middle of this chaos, a tall, tailored figure pushed through the crowd and took purposeful strides forward.Evelyn's fingers tightened abruptly, a suffocating wave of despair washing over her.It was Christian.He was wearing a dark gray bespoke suit—the very one she had personally ironed for him that morning. In his hands, he held a massive bouquet of white roses. She remembered him saying once that white roses were too plain and that he disliked them.But now, he was holding that exact bouquet, walking straight toward Lyra."Christian..." Lyra looked up at him, her face a mask of bewilderment.Christian handed her the flowers, then bent down and effortlessly scooped the little boy into his arms. The movement was so natural, it looked as if it had been rehearsed a thousand times."Mr. Lancaster! What is your relationship with Ms. Langford?""Is this your child?"Camera flashes erupted in a blinding frenzy.Christian swept his gaze over the crowd. His eyes were as cold as ice, yet when he looked down at Lyra, they softened with a rare, tender warmth. Facing the cameras, he spoke every word with absolute clarity."Lyra is the most important person to me. As for anything else, no comment."He paused, then added a sentence that acted like an ice-cold dagger, stabbing straight into the heart of the woman sitting in a living room thousands of miles away."As for certain business marriages, they are nothing more than mutually beneficial transactions. They aren't worth mentioning."---The chaos on the television continued to roar.Trending hashtags climbed the charts at a visible speed: #LyraLangfordReturnsWithSon #ChristianLancasterAirportRescue #LancasterCEOHiddenChildEvelyn watched in absolute silence, her face completely devoid of expression. Only the slight tremble of her eyelashes betrayed the storm raging inside her.She stood up and walked into the dining room.The twelve dishes had gone completely cold. The grease had congealed on the surface like an ugly scab. She picked up the plate of pan-seared sea bass and dumped it into the trash can. Then the black truffle baked lobster, the red wine braised beef cheeks... one plate after another.Finally, she reached for the third-anniversary cake.The light purple frosting remained pristine, but the fresh rose petals had already wilted. She reached out, her fingertips brushing against the cool, delicate cream, and then pressed down hard, burying her entire hand into the cake."Mrs. Lancaster..." Arthur's voice drifted from behind her."Clean it up," Evelyn said, her back to him. Her voice was terrifyingly calm. "I won't be having dinner tonight."She walked out into the garden.The night had fallen, and the roses were in full bloom under the moonlight. This was a wedding gift from Silas Lancaster—a century-old rose garden transplanted all the way from the Coastal Valley. For three years, she had personally tended to every single plant, pruning, fertilizing, and weeding them as if they were her own children.Her fingertips traced a deep red rose, the petals as soft as velvet.Then, she gripped it tightly.The sharp thorns pierced her skin. Beads of blood instantly welled up, trailing down her pale fingers to drop into the dark soil.Did it hurt?Maybe a little.But compared to the hollow, suffocating ache in her chest, this physical sting actually grounded her.Her phone buzzed again.This time, it was a text from Christian. It contained four simple words: "Not coming home tonight."Evelyn stared at those words for a long time. Then, lifting her bleeding finger, she slowly typed on the screen."Okay."Sent.She turned and walked back toward the mansion, her back straight and unyielding.Arthur stood in the foyer, hesitating to speak."Arthur," Evelyn stopped in her tracks, not looking back. "Starting tomorrow, there's no need to prepare dinner for my husband.""But Mrs. Lancaster, what about you...""I will feed myself."She ascended the spiral staircase, her footsteps echoing through the empty estate. Returning to her bedroom, she didn't turn on the lights, walking straight to the window.Outside, the city's neon lights shimmered like a galaxy.And as she stood at the pinnacle of this gilded cage, the blood on her fingertips had already dried, forming a dark red scab.Her phone screen lit up once more.It was a news push notification: "Breaking! Frontal photo of Lyra Langford's son exposed! Features bear striking resemblance to Christian Lancaster!"In the photo, Christian was holding the boy while Lyra leaned intimately against his side. The three of them looked exactly like a happy, picture-perfect family.Evelyn let out a soft, quiet laugh.Just then, a harsh ringtone shattered the silence of the bedroom. The name "Lydia Langford" flashed on the screen, casting a piercing glare in the dimly lit room.Evelyn stared at the name, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk touching her lips.She didn't answer.The call automatically disconnected, only to ring again less than ten seconds later.She still didn't answer.When it rang for the third time, Evelyn walked over to the vanity and looked at her pale reflection in the mirror. The dried blood still clung to her fingertips like a withered, dark red flower. She picked up the phone, swiped to answer, and remained silent."Wow, finally decided to pick up?" Lydia's voice dripped with undisguised gloating. "Evelyn, you saw the news, didn't you? Lyra came back, and she brought a kid. So, how does it feel? Is your seat as Mrs. Lancaster still secure?"Evelyn pulled out the vanity chair and sat down, her gaze locked calmly on her own reflection."Why aren't you saying anything? Heartbroken? Devastated?" Lydia's sharp, grating laughter echoed through the speaker. "Makes sense. No matter how well you played the part these past three years, you were never anything more than a stand-in. Now that the real deal is back, it's time for a fake like you to—""Are you done?"Evelyn finally spoke. Her voice was incredibly light, yet it acted like a bucket of ice water, instantly extinguishing Lydia's tirade.The line went dead silent for a second."You...""Lydia." Evelyn cut her off, her tone as detached as if she were stating a simple, unrelated fact. "Christian has treated you quite well these past three years, hasn't he?"Lydia froze, then quickly regained her smugness. "Of course. Christian always—""He got you the best job, bought you limited-edition designer bags, and canceled meetings just to visit you when you were sick." Evelyn spoke slowly, every word as clear as a judge reading a verdict. "Everyone says Mr. Lancaster spoils the younger Ms. Langford absolutely rotten."Sensing the shift in her tone, Lydia grew defensive. "What are you trying to say?""Nothing much." Evelyn let out a soft laugh. "I just think that right now, shouldn't you be the one feeling the most miserable?""What nonsense are you talking about!""Am I?" Evelyn looked up, staring into the cold, clear eyes in the mirror. "Lydia, think about it carefully. Why did Christian treat you so well these past three years? Was it because you're Lydia, or was it because... you're Lyra's sister?"The breathing on the other end of the line hitched abruptly."Shut up!""While Lyra was away, you were the closest replacement he had. All the kindness Christian showed you was just him making up to her, looking at another woman's shadow through you." Evelyn's voice grew softer, but infinitely colder. "Now that she is back, is there any reason for a substitute like you to exist?""Evelyn!" Lydia shrieked. "Do you think you're any better off? You're just a tool for a business arrangement! Christian never even—""At least I am still Mrs. Lancaster." Evelyn interrupted, a trace of mockery bleeding into her voice for the first time. "At least I've sat in this position, legitimately and openly, for three years. But you? You clung to that fake affection, living a beautiful lie for three years. Now that the dream is over, your beloved Christian... probably won't even remember who you are.""You—!""If I were you, I would take a good hard look at my own situation right now." Evelyn stood up, walking to the window to gaze at the rose garden below. "Instead of calling up someone you can never replace just to show off."Without waiting for Lydia to respond, she hung up the phone.The device remained quiet for a few seconds before vibrating frantically.Evelyn didn't even glance at it. She switched it to silent and tossed it onto the vanity.She walked over to her closet and pulled out a nightgown. As her fingertips brushed against the fabric, she realized her cut was still throbbing. Looking down at the dried blood, her mind drifted back to her wedding night three years ago.Christian had come home blackout drunk, supported by his assistant. Wearing a crimson nightgown, she had sat on the edge of the bed, watching him collapse onto the mattress, slurring a single name."Lyra..."She had frozen, her fingers unconsciously clutching the bedsheets, her nails digging into her palms with the same sharp pain she felt now.When he woke up later and saw her sitting there, a brief flash of disorientation crossed his eyes before they rapidly iced over."Why are you here?" he had asked."This is our bedroom," she whispered.He frowned, didn't say another word, and got up to use the bathroom. After that night, he permanently moved into the guest room.Chapter 2The late autumn twilight bled across the sky, dyeing the rose garden outside The Lancaster Estate's floor-to-ceiling windows a brilliant crimson.Evelyn Sullivan stood at the kitchen counter wearing an apron, her fingertips dusted with flour. The third-anniversary cake was finally finished. Its edges were decorated with light purple frosting and fresh rose petals—the ones she had painstakingly handpicked from the garden that morning, still damp with dew.Her phone buzzed.She wiped her hands and tapped the screen. It was a message from Christian Lancaster's assistant: "Mr. Lancaster has a transnational conference call tonight. Do not wait up for his dinner."The brief, official tone was suffocating, every word exuding a chilling indifference.Evelyn lowered her eyelashes, gently setting the phone back on the marble counter. How many times had she received a message like this over the past three years? She had lost count. The first time, she had been heartbroken. The second time, disappointed. The third, the fourth... until now, all that remained was a numb, suffocating tranquility."Mrs. Lancaster, these dishes..." Arthur, the seasoned butler, stood at the kitchen doorway, hesitating to speak.Twelve dishes were already arranged on the dining table, all catered to Christian's exact preferences. Pan-seared sea bass, black truffle baked lobster, red wine braised beef cheeks... Every single dish was prepared with painstaking effort, just like every single day of the past three years."Let's wait a bit longer," Evelyn said, her voice soft. "Maybe the meeting will end early."Arthur looked at her slender silhouette and sighed inwardly. The young madam was always like this—docile and quiet, like a rose blooming alone in the shadows, blossoming in isolation with no one to appreciate her beauty.The antique clock on the wall struck seven.Evelyn untied her apron and walked into the living room. The massive LCD television was broadcasting the financial news. She picked up the remote to turn it off, but her movements froze the very next second.The screen cut to the VIP terminal of the international airport."Good evening, viewers. It is exactly seven o'clock. The person who just arrived at the international airport is none other than the internationally acclaimed ballet artist, Lyra Langford, returning after five years abroad! Surprisingly, she is holding the hand of a little boy, roughly three years old—"The camera zoomed in.A woman in a flowing white dress slowly walked out of the terminal. She wore dark sunglasses, her long hair cascading over her shoulders, looking elegant and flawless even after a long flight. Her hand tightly gripped that of a little boy in a tiny tailored suit. The boy had exquisite features, resembling a porcelain doll in a high-end boutique window.A reporter shoved a microphone almost directly into Lyra's face. "Ms. Langford! May we ask who this child is?"Lyra quickly crouched down, pulling the boy securely into her embrace. Her voice was firm. "I apologize... This is my private life. I am not at liberty to disclose anything."Her hesitant demeanor instantly sent the crowd into a frenzy.More reporters swarmed forward. "Who is the child's father? Did you secretly get married abroad?""What are your plans for returning this time?""Rumor has it that you and the CEO of Lancaster Group, Mr. Christian Lancaster, used to be lovers. Is that true?"Right in the middle of this chaos, a tall, tailored figure pushed through the crowd and took purposeful strides forward.Evelyn's fingers tightened abruptly, a suffocating wave of despair washing over her.It was Christian.He was wearing a dark gray bespoke suit—the very one she had personally ironed for him that morning. In his hands, he held a massive bouquet of white roses. She remembered him saying once that white roses were too plain and that he disliked them.But now, he was holding that exact bouquet, walking straight toward Lyra."Christian..." Lyra looked up at him, her face a mask of bewilderment.Christian handed her the flowers, then bent down and effortlessly scooped the little boy into his arms. The movement was so natural, it looked as if it had been rehearsed a thousand times."Mr. Lancaster! What is your relationship with Ms. Langford?""Is this your child?"Camera flashes erupted in a blinding frenzy.Christian swept his gaze over the crowd. His eyes were as cold as ice, yet when he looked down at Lyra, they softened with a rare, tender warmth. Facing the cameras, he spoke every word with absolute clarity."Lyra is the most important person to me. As for anything else, no comment."He paused, then added a sentence that acted like an ice-cold dagger, stabbing straight into the heart of the woman sitting in a living room thousands of miles away."As for certain business marriages, they are nothing more than mutually beneficial transactions. They aren't worth mentioning."---The chaos on the television continued to roar.Trending hashtags climbed the charts at a visible speed: #LyraLangfordReturnsWithSon #ChristianLancasterAirportRescue #LancasterCEOHiddenChildEvelyn watched in absolute silence, her face completely devoid of expression. Only the slight tremble of her eyelashes betrayed the storm raging inside her.She stood up and walked into the dining room.The twelve dishes had gone completely cold. The grease had congealed on the surface like an ugly scab. She picked up the plate of pan-seared sea bass and dumped it into the trash can. Then the black truffle baked lobster, the red wine braised beef cheeks... one plate after another.Finally, she reached for the third-anniversary cake.The light purple frosting remained pristine, but the fresh rose petals had already wilted. She reached out, her fingertips brushing against the cool, delicate cream, and then pressed down hard, burying her entire hand into the cake."Mrs. Lancaster..." Arthur's voice drifted from behind her."Clean it up," Evelyn said, her back to him. Her voice was terrifyingly calm. "I won't be having dinner tonight."She walked out into the garden.The night had fallen, and the roses were in full bloom under the moonlight. This was a wedding gift from Silas Lancaster—a century-old rose garden transplanted all the way from the Coastal Valley. For three years, she had personally tended to every single plant, pruning, fertilizing, and weeding them as if they were her own children.Her fingertips traced a deep red rose, the petals as soft as velvet.Then, she gripped it tightly.The sharp thorns pierced her skin. Beads of blood instantly welled up, trailing down her pale fingers to drop into the dark soil.Did it hurt?Maybe a little.But compared to the hollow, suffocating ache in her chest, this physical sting actually grounded her.Her phone buzzed again.This time, it was a text from Christian. It contained four simple words: "Not coming home tonight."Evelyn stared at those words for a long time. Then, lifting her bleeding finger, she slowly typed on the screen."Okay."Sent.She turned and walked back toward the mansion, her back straight and unyielding.Arthur stood in the foyer, hesitating to speak."Arthur," Evelyn stopped in her tracks, not looking back. "Starting tomorrow, there's no need to prepare dinner for my husband.""But Mrs. Lancaster, what about you...""I will feed myself."She ascended the spiral staircase, her footsteps echoing through the empty estate. Returning to her bedroom, she didn't turn on the lights, walking straight to the window.Outside, the city's neon lights shimmered like a galaxy.And as she stood at the pinnacle of this gilded cage, the blood on her fingertips had already dried, forming a dark red scab.Her phone screen lit up once more.It was a news push notification: "Breaking! Frontal photo of Lyra Langford's son exposed! Features bear striking resemblance to Christian Lancaster!"In the photo, Christian was holding the boy while Lyra leaned intimately against his side. The three of them looked exactly like a happy, picture-perfect family.Evelyn let out a soft, quiet laugh.Just then, a harsh ringtone shattered the silence of the bedroom. The name "Lydia Langford" flashed on the screen, casting a piercing glare in the dimly lit room.Evelyn stared at the name, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk touching her lips.She didn't answer.The call automatically disconnected, only to ring again less than ten seconds later.She still didn't answer.When it rang for the third time, Evelyn walked over to the vanity and looked at her pale reflection in the mirror. The dried blood still clung to her fingertips like a withered, dark red flower. She picked up the phone, swiped to answer, and remained silent."Wow, finally decided to pick up?" Lydia's voice dripped with undisguised gloating. "Evelyn, you saw the news, didn't you? Lyra came back, and she brought a kid. So, how does it feel? Is your seat as Mrs. Lancaster still secure?"Evelyn pulled out the vanity chair and sat down, her gaze locked calmly on her own reflection."Why aren't you saying anything? Heartbroken? Devastated?" Lydia's sharp, grating laughter echoed through the speaker. "Makes sense. No matter how well you played the part these past three years, you were never anything more than a stand-in. Now that the real deal is back, it's time for a fake like you to—""Are you done?"Evelyn finally spoke. Her voice was incredibly light, yet it acted like a bucket of ice water, instantly extinguishing Lydia's tirade.The line went dead silent for a second."You...""Lydia." Evelyn cut her off, her tone as detached as if she were stating a simple, unrelated fact. "Christian has treated you quite well these past three years, hasn't he?"Lydia froze, then quickly regained her smugness. "Of course. Christian always—""He got you the best job, bought you limited-edition designer bags, and canceled meetings just to visit you when you were sick." Evelyn spoke slowly, every word as clear as a judge reading a verdict. "Everyone says Mr. Lancaster spoils the younger Ms. Langford absolutely rotten."Sensing the shift in her tone, Lydia grew defensive. "What are you trying to say?""Nothing much." Evelyn let out a soft laugh. "I just think that right now, shouldn't you be the one feeling the most miserable?""What nonsense are you talking about!""Am I?" Evelyn looked up, staring into the cold, clear eyes in the mirror. "Lydia, think about it carefully. Why did Christian treat you so well these past three years? Was it because you're Lydia, or was it because... you're Lyra's sister?"The breathing on the other end of the line hitched abruptly."Shut up!""While Lyra was away, you were the closest replacement he had. All the kindness Christian showed you was just him making up to her, looking at another woman's shadow through you." Evelyn's voice grew softer, but infinitely colder. "Now that she is back, is there any reason for a substitute like you to exist?""Evelyn!" Lydia shrieked. "Do you think you're any better off? You're just a tool for a business arrangement! Christian never even—""At least I am still Mrs. Lancaster." Evelyn interrupted, a trace of mockery bleeding into her voice for the first time. "At least I've sat in this position, legitimately and openly, for three years. But you? You clung to that fake affection, living a beautiful lie for three years. Now that the dream is over, your beloved Christian... probably won't even remember who you are.""You—!""If I were you, I would take a good hard look at my own situation right now." Evelyn stood up, walking to the window to gaze at the rose garden below. "Instead of calling up someone you can never replace just to show off."Without waiting for Lydia to respond, she hung up the phone.The device remained quiet for a few seconds before vibrating frantically.Evelyn didn't even glance at it. She switched it to silent and tossed it onto the vanity.She walked over to her closet and pulled out a nightgown. As her fingertips brushed against the fabric, she realized her cut was still throbbing. Looking down at the dried blood, her mind drifted back to her wedding night three years ago.Christian had come home blackout drunk, supported by his assistant. Wearing a crimson nightgown, she had sat on the edge of the bed, watching him collapse onto the mattress, slurring a single name."Lyra..."She had frozen, her fingers unconsciously clutching the bedsheets, her nails digging into her palms with the same sharp pain she felt now.When he woke up later and saw her sitting there, a brief flash of disorientation crossed his eyes before they rapidly iced over."Why are you here?" he had asked."This is our bedroom," she whispered.He frowned, didn't say another word, and got up to use the bathroom. After that night, he permanently moved into the guest room.Chapter 3The late autumn twilight bled across the sky, dyeing the rose garden outside The Lancaster Estate's floor-to-ceiling windows a brilliant crimson.Evelyn Sullivan stood at the kitchen counter wearing an apron, her fingertips dusted with flour. The third-anniversary cake was finally finished. Its edges were decorated with light purple frosting and fresh rose petals—the ones she had painstakingly handpicked from the garden that morning, still damp with dew.Her phone buzzed.She wiped her hands and tapped the screen. It was a message from Christian Lancaster's assistant: "Mr. Lancaster has a transnational conference call tonight. Do not wait up for his dinner."The brief, official tone was suffocating, every word exuding a chilling indifference.Evelyn lowered her eyelashes, gently setting the phone back on the marble counter. How many times had she received a message like this over the past three years? She had lost count. The first time, she had been heartbroken. The second time, disappointed. The third, the fourth... until now, all that remained was a numb, suffocating tranquility."Mrs. Lancaster, these dishes..." Arthur, the seasoned butler, stood at the kitchen doorway, hesitating to speak.Twelve dishes were already arranged on the dining table, all catered to Christian's exact preferences. Pan-seared sea bass, black truffle baked lobster, red wine braised beef cheeks... Every single dish was prepared with painstaking effort, just like every single day of the past three years."Let's wait a bit longer," Evelyn said, her voice soft. "Maybe the meeting will end early."Arthur looked at her slender silhouette and sighed inwardly. The young madam was always like this—docile and quiet, like a rose blooming alone in the shadows, blossoming in isolation with no one to appreciate her beauty.The antique clock on the wall struck seven.Evelyn untied her apron and walked into the living room. The massive LCD television was broadcasting the financial news. She picked up the remote to turn it off, but her movements froze the very next second.The screen cut to the VIP terminal of the international airport."Good evening, viewers. It is exactly seven o'clock. The person who just arrived at the international airport is none other than the internationally acclaimed ballet artist, Lyra Langford, returning after five years abroad! Surprisingly, she is holding the hand of a little boy, roughly three years old—"The camera zoomed in.A woman in a flowing white dress slowly walked out of the terminal. She wore dark sunglasses, her long hair cascading over her shoulders, looking elegant and flawless even after a long flight. Her hand tightly gripped that of a little boy in a tiny tailored suit. The boy had exquisite features, resembling a porcelain doll in a high-end boutique window.A reporter shoved a microphone almost directly into Lyra's face. "Ms. Langford! May we ask who this child is?"Lyra quickly crouched down, pulling the boy securely into her embrace. Her voice was firm. "I apologize... This is my private life. I am not at liberty to disclose anything."Her hesitant demeanor instantly sent the crowd into a frenzy.More reporters swarmed forward. "Who is the child's father? Did you secretly get married abroad?""What are your plans for returning this time?""Rumor has it that you and the CEO of Lancaster Group, Mr. Christian Lancaster, used to be lovers. Is that true?"Right in the middle of this chaos, a tall, tailored figure pushed through the crowd and took purposeful strides forward.Evelyn's fingers tightened abruptly, a suffocating wave of despair washing over her.It was Christian.He was wearing a dark gray bespoke suit—the very one she had personally ironed for him that morning. In his hands, he held a massive bouquet of white roses. She remembered him saying once that white roses were too plain and that he disliked them.But now, he was holding that exact bouquet, walking straight toward Lyra."Christian..." Lyra looked up at him, her face a mask of bewilderment.Christian handed her the flowers, then bent down and effortlessly scooped the little boy into his arms. The movement was so natural, it looked as if it had been rehearsed a thousand times."Mr. Lancaster! What is your relationship with Ms. Langford?""Is this your child?"Camera flashes erupted in a blinding frenzy.Christian swept his gaze over the crowd. His eyes were as cold as ice, yet when he looked down at Lyra, they softened with a rare, tender warmth. Facing the cameras, he spoke every word with absolute clarity."Lyra is the most important person to me. As for anything else, no comment."He paused, then added a sentence that acted like an ice-cold dagger, stabbing straight into the heart of the woman sitting in a living room thousands of miles away."As for certain business marriages, they are nothing more than mutually beneficial transactions. They aren't worth mentioning."---The chaos on the television continued to roar.Trending hashtags climbed the charts at a visible speed: #LyraLangfordReturnsWithSon #ChristianLancasterAirportRescue #LancasterCEOHiddenChildEvelyn watched in absolute silence, her face completely devoid of expression. Only the slight tremble of her eyelashes betrayed the storm raging inside her.She stood up and walked into the dining room.The twelve dishes had gone completely cold. The grease had congealed on the surface like an ugly scab. She picked up the plate of pan-seared sea bass and dumped it into the trash can. Then the black truffle baked lobster, the red wine braised beef cheeks... one plate after another.Finally, she reached for the third-anniversary cake.The light purple frosting remained pristine, but the fresh rose petals had already wilted. She reached out, her fingertips brushing against the cool, delicate cream, and then pressed down hard, burying her entire hand into the cake."Mrs. Lancaster..." Arthur's voice drifted from behind her."Clean it up," Evelyn said, her back to him. Her voice was terrifyingly calm. "I won't be having dinner tonight."She walked out into the garden.The night had fallen, and the roses were in full bloom under the moonlight. This was a wedding gift from Silas Lancaster—a century-old rose garden transplanted all the way from the Coastal Valley. For three years, she had personally tended to every single plant, pruning, fertilizing, and weeding them as if they were her own children.Her fingertips traced a deep red rose, the petals as soft as velvet.Then, she gripped it tightly.The sharp thorns pierced her skin. Beads of blood instantly welled up, trailing down her pale fingers to drop into the dark soil.Did it hurt?Maybe a little.But compared to the hollow, suffocating ache in her chest, this physical sting actually grounded her.Her phone buzzed again.This time, it was a text from Christian. It contained four simple words: "Not coming home tonight."Evelyn stared at those words for a long time. Then, lifting her bleeding finger, she slowly typed on the screen."Okay."Sent.She turned and walked back toward the mansion, her back straight and unyielding.Arthur stood in the foyer, hesitating to speak."Arthur," Evelyn stopped in her tracks, not looking back. "Starting tomorrow, there's no need to prepare dinner for my husband.""But Mrs. Lancaster, what about you...""I will feed myself."She ascended the spiral staircase, her footsteps echoing through the empty estate. Returning to her bedroom, she didn't turn on the lights, walking straight to the window.Outside, the city's neon lights shimmered like a galaxy.And as she stood at the pinnacle of this gilded cage, the blood on her fingertips had already dried, forming a dark red scab.Her phone screen lit up once more.It was a news push notification: "Breaking! Frontal photo of Lyra Langford's son exposed! Features bear striking resemblance to Christian Lancaster!"In the photo, Christian was holding the boy while Lyra leaned intimately against his side. The three of them looked exactly like a happy, picture-perfect family.Evelyn let out a soft, quiet laugh.Just then, a harsh ringtone shattered the silence of the bedroom. The name "Lydia Langford" flashed on the screen, casting a piercing glare in the dimly lit room.Evelyn stared at the name, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk touching her lips.She didn't answer.The call automatically disconnected, only to ring again less than ten seconds later.She still didn't answer.When it rang for the third time, Evelyn walked over to the vanity and looked at her pale reflection in the mirror. The dried blood still clung to her fingertips like a withered, dark red flower. She picked up the phone, swiped to answer, and remained silent."Wow, finally decided to pick up?" Lydia's voice dripped with undisguised gloating. "Evelyn, you saw the news, didn't you? Lyra came back, and she brought a kid. So, how does it feel? Is your seat as Mrs. Lancaster still secure?"Evelyn pulled out the vanity chair and sat down, her gaze locked calmly on her own reflection."Why aren't you saying anything? Heartbroken? Devastated?" Lydia's sharp, grating laughter echoed through the speaker. "Makes sense. No matter how well you played the part these past three years, you were never anything more than a stand-in. Now that the real deal is back, it's time for a fake like you to—""Are you done?"Evelyn finally spoke. Her voice was incredibly light, yet it acted like a bucket of ice water, instantly extinguishing Lydia's tirade.The line went dead silent for a second."You...""Lydia." Evelyn cut her off, her tone as detached as if she were stating a simple, unrelated fact. "Christian has treated you quite well these past three years, hasn't he?"Lydia froze, then quickly regained her smugness. "Of course. Christian always—""He got you the best job, bought you limited-edition designer bags, and canceled meetings just to visit you when you were sick." Evelyn spoke slowly, every word as clear as a judge reading a verdict. "Everyone says Mr. Lancaster spoils the younger Ms. Langford absolutely rotten."Sensing the shift in her tone, Lydia grew defensive. "What are you trying to say?""Nothing much." Evelyn let out a soft laugh. "I just think that right now, shouldn't you be the one feeling the most miserable?""What nonsense are you talking about!""Am I?" Evelyn looked up, staring into the cold, clear eyes in the mirror. "Lydia, think about it carefully. Why did Christian treat you so well these past three years? Was it because you're Lydia, or was it because... you're Lyra's sister?"The breathing on the other end of the line hitched abruptly."Shut up!""While Lyra was away, you were the closest replacement he had. All the kindness Christian showed you was just him making up to her, looking at another woman's shadow through you." Evelyn's voice grew softer, but infinitely colder. "Now that she is back, is there any reason for a substitute like you to exist?""Evelyn!" Lydia shrieked. "Do you think you're any better off? You're just a tool for a business arrangement! Christian never even—""At least I am still Mrs. Lancaster." Evelyn interrupted, a trace of mockery bleeding into her voice for the first time. "At least I've sat in this position, legitimately and openly, for three years. But you? You clung to that fake affection, living a beautiful lie for three years. Now that the dream is over, your beloved Christian... probably won't even remember who you are.""You—!""If I were you, I would take a good hard look at my own situation right now." Evelyn stood up, walking to the window to gaze at the rose garden below. "Instead of calling up someone you can never replace just to show off."Without waiting for Lydia to respond, she hung up the phone.The device remained quiet for a few seconds before vibrating frantically.Evelyn didn't even glance at it. She switched it to silent and tossed it onto the vanity.She walked over to her closet and pulled out a nightgown. As her fingertips brushed against the fabric, she realized her cut was still throbbing. Looking down at the dried blood, her mind drifted back to her wedding night three years ago.Christian had come home blackout drunk, supported by his assistant. Wearing a crimson nightgown, she had sat on the edge of the bed, watching him collapse onto the mattress, slurring a single name."Lyra..."She had frozen, her fingers unconsciously clutching the bedsheets, her nails digging into her palms with the same sharp pain she felt now.When he woke up later and saw her sitting there, a brief flash of disorientation crossed his eyes before they rapidly iced over."Why are you here?" he had asked."This is our bedroom," she whispered.He frowned, didn't say another word, and got up to use the bathroom. After that night, he permanently moved into the guest room.