Chapter 1

The year Scarlett and I were purest, the year I poured my entire soul into her.

Three scars became etched onto her body for me: one above her brow, one on her ankle, and one across her back.

Everyone whispered that Scarlett loved me more than life itself.

Until, another man brazenly showed up at my door.

"You must be Adrian, right?"

He flung a stack of photos, hitting me square in the face.

"Scarlett hasn't loved you for ages. I suggest you get lost, while you still have a shred of dignity."

In the photos, Scarlett's gaze was soft, tender.

I watched the rain intensify, then subtly raised a hand. The man's shriek, muffled by the downpour, left a final, desperate plea:

"Scarlett won't let you get away with this!"

But I just looked coldly at Scarlett, who sat across from me, ready to lay down the law.

"Sign the papers."

"You disgust me."

"Adrian!"

Scarlett sat opposite me.

Behind her stood her two most loyal lieutenants, surrounded by dozens of bodyguards. They filled my spacious living room. It wasn't a negotiation; it was a siege.

I watched Scarlett, her fury barely contained, tap the table.

"He's still in the ICU."

She raised a brow, the strategically placed lighting highlighting the prominent scar there.

"He was innocent," Scarlett's voice was low, laced with an oppressive edge. "He's only twenty. Twenty years old, and you almost ended his life! Do you know what the doctors told me?"

"They said he might never walk like a normal person again."

Scarlett's voice blended with the rhythmic drumming of rain against the window. I remembered that day, the man's dying breath a desperate shout.

"Scarlett won't let you get away with this!"

"So," I met Scarlett's furious gaze, handing my untouched tea to the maid, "you've come here, making such a scene, to defend him?"

"What," I let out a soft, amused laugh, "do you want half my life, or are you planning to break one of my legs to compensate for his?"

I smiled, pulling my cashmere throw higher around me.

James, my butler, immediately adjusted the indoor temperature.

I looked at Scarlett.

"Who does he think he is, that you'd storm in here on his behalf? Scarlett, have you forgotten? *I* was the one who stood by you and helped you get where you are today, not him. Are you truly prepared to turn against me for him, or are you here to end my life?"

My voice was calm, unhurried.

James, who had been keenly observing the tense atmosphere, instantly drew his pistol and aimed it at Scarlett's head. Her lieutenants immediately tensed, ready for a fight, but Scarlett merely mirrored my smile.

"Adrian, the days of brute force and open conflict are over. I don't want to fight you," Scarlett pushed away the divorce papers I'd prepared. "Divorce is a messy, brutal business; I won't put us through it. But you *will* personally apologize to him. Otherwise, don't blame me for getting ugly."

Scarlett rose from the sofa, walked up to James, grabbed his wrist, and pressed the gun to her own forehead.

"Shoot me?"

"You actually believe you're on that level?"

Scarlett yanked James's wrist outward. A sharp, sickening crack echoed through the room. It was her right-hand man who let out a choked cry, as a fruit knife, that had been on my table, now lodged itself precisely in the center of his thigh. I met Scarlett's incredulous stare, and smiled.

"Scarlett, my people don't fight back out of respect for me. But that doesn't mean," I walked up to Scarlett, gently taking her hand and prying it from James's wrist, "you get to touch my people."

I understood then.

Our relationship had reached its end.

When the doctor was setting James's bones, he was still fuming.

"Young Master, you went through so much with that Scarlett girl. And now, you're just going to stand by and watch others walk all over you?"