"I'm sorry... I need to see her. I swear, I'll never mention divorce again!"
Daniel clutched the divorce papers, his heart twisting with remorse as he turned toward the elevators.
But Charlotte's expression didn't soften—it hardened into something glacial.
She stepped in front of him, her voice sharper than shattered glass:
"Daniel Lockwood. How much more of her do you need to destroy before you're satisfied?"
"Do you have any idea how badly she was hurt yesterday? When I checked her car this morning—the seats were soaked in blood. SOAKED."
"And yet, her first stop wasn't the hospital. It was you. She was still worried about you—still thought you were the one injured!"
"And what were you doing? Fucking some random woman in your bed!"
Her voice broke.
"Daniel. I'm begging you. Just let her go. Haven't you humiliated her enough?"
"In twenty-six years, she's never been this broken. You didn't just break her heart—you ground her pride into dust."
Every word was a knife.
Every syllable, a twist of the blade.
Daniel stood frozen, drowning in self-loathing.
How could she have been so reckless?
Willing to bleed out—just to make sure he was safe?
"God, I was a monster."
The kind of man who'd traded a woman who loved him beyond reason for the hollow lies of vipers.
Daniel's fingers clenched until his knuckles turned white.
With a sudden, resolute turn, he faced Charlotte—whose eyes shimmered with unshed tears—and spoke, each word a sworn oath:
"Charlotte. On my life, I swear—from today onward, not a single scratch will touch her."
"This divorce?" His voice dropped to a lethal calm. "Over my dead body."
Before she could respond, he was gone—disappearing down the hallway like a storm given human form.
Charlotte stood frozen, his words echoing in her skull.
What… was that?
That unshakable conviction—that bone-deep ferocity—since when did the "useless Lockwood spare" have that kind of presence?
No… She shook her head. It's an act. It has to be.
He's just scheming again—another ploy to milk more benefits from Elena for the Lockwoods.
Meanwhile – VIP Suite No. 9
A silver-haired butler bowed stiffly, oozing false contrition. "President Vanderbilt, the Lockwood family deeply apologizes. We never imagined young master Daniel would dare exploit your kindness so shamelessly—"
"Are you finished?" A voice like fractured ice cut him off.
Elena, propped up in bed with IV lines snaking from her wrists, didn't even glance at him. "His name doesn't belong in your mouth."
The butler's smile stiffened. Pathetic whore, he seethed inwardly. Even after being cheated on, you're still shielding that trash?
And now you're handing over Vanderbilt Industries—just to beg us to treat him kindly?
"Serves her right—should've died when that trash pushed her down the stairs!"
The butler swallowed his malice, plastering on an obsequious smile as he extended a document to the woman on the hospital bed.
"President Vanderbilt, the transfer agreement is ready. Just your signature here."
Elena's glacial gaze swept over him.
Even pallid and wounded, her beauty remained a weapon—sharp enough to draw blood. That aristocratic chill radiating from her made the butler's breath hitch.
But greed outweighed fear. He pressed on:
"Ah, we also noted your 20% stake in Sullivan Logistics."
"And the $100 million trust fund you set up for Daniel at Ridgewood Bank—it matures next month."
"Since you're leaving the city… Young Master Daniel requested these be transferred to the Lockwoods as well."
Another contract materialized in his hand.
"Just sign here."
Elena's trembling fingers clutched the pen.
The butler's rapacious grin reflected in her hollow pupils.
How many times had they done this?
How much had they taken from her?
She'd lost count.
Because every time, they'd whisper two words—"Daniel's family"—and she'd bleed herself dry.
Because he craved their love… and she craved his happiness.
"Fine."
After today, she and Daniel would be strangers. And these assets? They were always meant for him anyway...
"I'll sign."
One stroke of the pen, and everything would end.
Her fingers trembled as she pressed the tip to the paper—
BANG!
The door exploded inward.
Daniel stood there, chest heaving, his gaze locked onto the contracts in Elena's hand. For a heartbeat, he looked like he might vomit rage.
Then—his eyes found her.
Broken.
Her right wrist—fractured.
Her knees—shattered.
Her back—stitched together like torn fabric.
And in his past life, he'd called her a liar.
Accused her of faking it.
"Elena…" His voice cracked.
She didn't look up. "The assets are already being transferred to you. The divorce will finalize it."
"Vanderbilt Industries," she continued, "is being gifted to the Lockwoods. As you… wished."
A mechanical pause.
"You didn't need to see me to confirm it. Leave."
Elena didn't dare look up at Daniel.
One glance, and she might weaken—might cling to him like a fool.
Her right hand trembled faintly as she feigned composure, pressing pen to paper—
RIIIP!
RIIIP—!
Daniel snatched the documents from her grip and—under the butler's stunned, venomous glare—tore them to shreds.
The butler froze for three full seconds.
"Young Master Daniel, have you lost your mind?! This is the Vanderbilt Industries transfer contract! President Vanderbilt promised—"
He bit back a scream, too cowardly to curse in front of Elena. But his eyes promised murder.
Daniel turned slowly. When his gaze locked onto the butler, it was bottomless—a abyss even light couldn't escape.
The butler's hair stood on end.
Before he could process this defiance, Daniel smiled. A smile so cold the room's temperature seemed to drop.
"When did she ever promise Vanderbilt Industries to the Lockwoods?" His voice was soft. Lethal. "What she gives, she gives to me. And only if I want it."
A beat. Then—
"I don't want it."
He flung the shredded paper in the butler's face.
"Get. Out."
The room stopped breathing.
The butler's lips moved soundlessly: "Y-You—"
The butler's face twisted with incomprehension and rage, his teeth audibly grinding.
How dare this worthless adopted son—this puppet the Lockwoods had only kept around for his connection to Elena—speak to him like this?
If not for his usefulness... If not for Elena's blind obsession... He would've been discarded like trash long ago!
And now? Now this ungrateful wretch had the audacity to defy the family?
Unthinkable.
Yet, even as fury burned through him, the butler forced himself to glance at Elena—her presence the only thing keeping him from outright violence.
With a venomous smile, he tried again:
"Young Master Daniel, surely you're joking. The Lockwoods took you in as a child—raised you for twenty years! What's yours is* theirs. Don't disappoint the family now..."
Every previous time, this card had worked. Every time, Daniel had folded.
But now—
"I won't repeat myself."
Daniel's voice was quiet. Absolute.
"Get. Out."