A sharp, physical pain seized his heart.

In Julian’s thirty-plus years of life, he had never felt a heartache for a woman.

This was the first time, and it was for the woman he had always loathed.

He furrowed his brows deeply, letting out a heavy, labored breath, forcing down the uncomfortable emotion, attributing it to the pain of losing his firstborn child.

Yes, that must be it.

How could he possibly feel heartache for Flora?

11

Julian hesitated for a long time before deciding to make a trip to the villa to see Flora.

While driving through the bustling commercial district, he spotted a dress hanging in the window of a luxury boutique.

It was red—very beautiful.

An image of Flora appeared in his mind: wearing that red dress, her skin dazzlingly fair, laughing with unbridled, radiant charm.

Flora had always loved the intense, passionate color of red.

She also liked desserts, especially small orange-flavored cakes—a rather vulgar taste, he used to think.

Julian didn't know when he had started remembering these things.

In the past, he had always looked down on her, finding her restless and overly frivolous; whatever she liked, he would subconsciously despise.

Yet, without realizing it, he had tucked her preferences away in his heart.

He remembered them, but he was too proud to act on them—in the relationship between him and Flora, he was always the one to be courted, never the suitor.

Julian walked into the shop and bought the red dress.

He didn't return to the car immediately; instead, he stepped into the mall again. When he came out, he was carrying a beautifully packaged orange cake.

The car pulled slowly into the villa complex.

The door opened to a hollow, empty villa. No one was there, and the lights were off.

Julian felt the house was a bit too quiet.

He walked straight to Flora’s bedroom and pushed the door open.

The room was dim. On the bed in the center of the room, a small, dark shadow was curled up under a pile of blankets, seemingly with its back to him.

Julian had never coaxed a woman before; he felt a bit awkward.

He threw the gift onto the bed and spoke to the silent lump, feigning indifference:

"I passed by a shop on my way back today and saw this dress. It suited you, so I bought it."

The person didn't respond.

He closed his eyes and said with a touch of remorse:

"I know everything now, Flora."

"The child was mine. You weren't lying."

"In truth, it’s my fault for not letting you tell me sooner. At the time, using that as an excuse so suddenly—no one would have believed it."

"Regardless." He suppressed the strange feeling in his heart. "I will find you the best specialists. Flora, I promise you, I will give you another child."

Flora still didn't speak; she remained motionless.

It was rare for him to coax her, and seeing her refuse to accept the olive branch after all this time, he grew irritated:

"Flora, are you dead? I’m talking to you."

He reached out to push her.

Then, remembering something, he stopped.

"Forget it." He curled his lip with a sneer. "It seems I’ve been too indulgent with you. Don't forget, even if this child was mine, it doesn't prove that the photos of you fooling around with those men were fake."

"For the sake of the child you lost, I can overlook those things, and I will help you silence the gossip."

"Behave yourself. Don't push your luck."

He finished speaking and turned to leave.

Flora was a smart woman.

He had let bygones be bygones, given her a chance to remain by his side, and even lowered his head to coax her for the first time; she should be ecstatic, seizing this opportunity properly.

However, he had no desire to watch some clingy, sentimental performance from a woman.

He felt guilty toward her, and he would do his utmost to compensate her with material goods and bring her a new child.

But, that was where it ended.

Other things, like his love—that was not something she could hope for.

12

Julian returned to the company and stayed there for three days.

Strangely, this time, Flora did not come to bow her head before him for a long while.

But Julian was a patient man; he was certain Flora couldn't hold out for long.

His assistant knocked on the door and placed a folder in front of him:

"Mr. Yan, I’ve found what you asked me to investigate."

"The organizers couldn't contact the donor for that batch of photos, but we matched the fingerprints of the people who took Madam away with one of the fingerprints left on the printed photographs. That person has been found."

Julian asked: "Who is it?"

The assistant raised his eyes cautiously: "It is... the bodyguard you assigned to Ms. Summer, Zhao Sanfeng."

Julian’s expression turned icy instantly.

The assistant explained the matter in full detail:

"Zhao Sanfeng confessed everything. That day, following Ms. Summer’s instructions, he drugged Madam and took her to the suburbs. He was told to do nothing but take the photos."

"Perhaps that is why Madam didn't grow overly suspicious and had no defenses afterward."

"Zhao Sanfeng also said..."

"Said what?" Julian demanded sharply.

The assistant lowered his head further: "He said Ms. Summer’s original words were that she wanted Madam to taste the bitterness of being unable to defend oneself, to be branded by the whole world even while innocent..."

Julian’s mind went blank.

For the sake of a baseless accusation, he had caused his own child’s death and wronged Flora, allowing her to suffer punishment, be locked in a cold storage room, and endure the agony of a miscarriage.

And that night, when he had supposedly gone back to "coax her," he had still spoken those soul-crushing words to her, pinning her to the pillar of shame for "unfaithfulness."

No wonder she hadn't bothered with him that night.

No wonder she hadn't come to see him for these three days.

Flora hadn't been having an affair with another man at all; she had been completely and utterly innocent the entire time!

Julian’s eyes reddened.

He stood up abruptly and strode toward the door.

The assistant trotted to keep up:

"Mr. Yan, please slow down..."

Julian got into his car, started the engine, and sped toward the villa.

The door opened, and he rushed into the bedroom—it was empty.

The dress and the cake from that day were still discarded on the bed, just as they had been; the cake had collapsed, emitting a foul odor.

"Flora..." he called out, his voice trembling.

Julian reached out, touching the pile of blankets; the temperature was chillingly cold.

He froze and tore them back.

Where was she?

The air solidified.

After a long silence, Julian heard his own voice, frighteningly calm:

"Where is Madam?"

The nanny and the assistant didn't dare to breathe.

The housekeeper was on the verge of tears: "Sir, we... we really don't know."

"Madam hasn't been here for days!"

Julian let out a cold laugh.

In the next second, he kicked over a cabinet.

Items crashed to the floor, making a harsh, discordant sound.

"A bunch of useless trash! You couldn't even keep an eye on one person!"

"Get out! Get out! Go out and find her!"

The housekeeper and the servants scrambled away in a panic.

They were terrified beyond belief.

Mr. Yan had always been a man of immense composure who kept his emotions hidden; rarely did he fly into such a rage.

It was truly frightening.

And all for that wife he had never truly valued...

Julian gasped for breath, pacing in the cramped room, searching like a trapped beast.

Her ID, passport, and all other important documents were missing.

Flora had run away!

It was premeditated—she had run away even before sending him the recording!

"Call the police, report her missing, check the flight manifests! No matter what, find her for me! I don't believe she can fly to the heavens!"

The assistant wiped cold sweat, nodding frantically before running out to contact the airlines and other departments.

Julian finished his outburst and sat down on the bed, feeling a lost, hollow sense of powerlessness.

It felt as if something vital to his life was slipping away; he was panicked, yet helpless.

After a long time, he suddenly sneered:

"You've learned some tricks—playing the 'hard to get' game to the absolute limit this time."

Yes, that must be it.

He grabbed the red dress from the bed, stared at it gloomily for a few seconds, and stood up to throw it in the trash.

But as he reached the door, he stopped and turned back.

Julian stared at the red dress in the trash bin with a dark, indecisive look on his face.

After a long while, he bent down, picked it up, and folded it with a tense expression.