Heather got into the car, her thoughts spinning. She tried hard to recall that day. Vaguely, she remembered that after the college entrance exams, she had been with Brett the whole time. They had met up with friends and spent the entire day out, only returning home late at night. In her memory, there was no invitation from Jason for any kind of meeting. Heather concluded that perhaps her mother wasn't fully lucid yet and had confused things. If she foolishly went to ask Jason about an event from years ago, he would surely mock her. What could be more embarrassing than mistaking his indifference for affection? She'd only make a fool of herself.Her phone was in her hand, and she scrolled through her contacts, her finger lingering over Jason's number. She hovered there, indecisive, before backing out. He's probably in class, she thought, and closed her contacts list. Instead, she absentmindedly opened the monitoring app. Oddly enough, instead of hearing Brett's voice, she he
Heather wiped the corner of her mouth, glancing at Jason with irritation. "What are you staring at? You think I'm pregnant or something? It's your terrible cooking that made me nauseous." Jason furrowed his brow, his gaze lingering on her. He didn't respond, but the way he looked at her was unsettling. Heather took a breath, walked over to him, and suddenly wrapped her arms around his neck. "Jason, do you want me to get pregnant? To have your child?" He pulled her arms away. "Don't. I don't want that." Heather was so frustrated she wanted to bite him. "You're heartless! You say you don't want it, but you don't even bother using protection!"Jason frowned and moved away from her, with the same disgusted expression on his face as always. He acted like he couldn't stand being around her, and that only fueled her desire to get under his skin. She clung to him tighter, and before he could pull away, she bit down on his jaw, hard enough to make him wince. His brows furrowed ev
Heather returned to the hospital and spent some time with her mother. Once her mother had fallen asleep, Heather headed home to shower and change her clothes. As she opened the door to her house, a strange smell hit her—a faint scent of smoke. Her heart skipped a beat. She looked up and saw a shadow rise from the sofa. Startled, she instinctively stepped back, but Brett quickly approached her, grabbing her arm. His voice was raspy, "Heather, it's me." He slipped something into her hand and hurriedly said, "Heather, there's been a situation. Keep this with you. If the police come looking, give it to them and say your father asked you to hold onto it for him." Heather's fingers fumbled over the object. It was a phone.Brett pulled her into a brief, tight embrace, his tone unusually soft. "Some things have happened, not good ones. But don't worry, none of this will affect you. Just hand the phone over to the police, and tell them you don't know anything beyond that. You won't b
Heather found her way to an unassuming, run-down house. She pushed open the door, and before she could take a step inside, a woman rushed toward her crazedly. The guards in the room quickly restrained Chrishell. But as soon as she laid eyes on Heather, she froze, her manic energy stilled by surprise. Heather took a slow glance around the room. It was truly dilapidated, nowhere near the standard that Chrishell's persona as an artist from a comfortable, middle-class family would suggest. Heather's gaze fell on a photo lying on the table. She picked it up. In the picture, Chrishell was dressed in garishly bright clothes, holding a child. Heather raised an eyebrow. Chrishell glared at her. "What do you want? It was you, wasn't it? You had these people lock me up here!"Heather examined her carefully. Without the mask of cultured elegance, Chrishell looked utterly ordinary—far from the ethereal artistic muse she had once pretended to be. She seemed vulgar, even plain. Heath
Heather sat in the car for a long time, trying to calm her chaotic thoughts. She eventually started driving aimlessly, only to find herself near Jason's art studio. She knew he would be there since no classes were listed on his schedule today, and whenever he wasn't teaching, he practically lived in his studio. She knew his door code by heart. Jason was rigid in certain ways, particularly when it came to his habits. His passwords had always been the same since they were kids: the digits of his birth date, reversed. Heather had spied on him before, memorized the code, and used it to log into his social media accounts, even sneaking peeks at his phone. She had come and gone from his house whenever she pleased.His life was simple. Even as a teenager, Jason had been strikingly handsome, but he remained aloof, uninterested in people. Admirers had tried to get close to him, sending him private messages, and confessing their love. But he never responded. His blacklist was full of
As Heather fled from the studio, her stomach ached with a dull, growing pain. She slid into her car, her palms slick with sweat. What did Jason mean by saying she was responsible for his mother's death? She didn't even know how his mother had died. How could any of this possibly involve her? Heather drove away, her mind in chaos. It wasn't until she arrived at the Vanders' home that she started regaining some composure. She went upstairs to find Jason's father, determined to get answers. Jason's father was already swamped with worry, frantically making phone calls to try to get Brett out of his legal troubles. Seeing Heather's dazed expression, he paused to offer some reassurance. "Don't worry, I'll do everything I can to get Brett out. I won't rest until he's safe, and your father too. You have nothing to fear."Heather, barely able to keep herself steady, sank into a chair. "Could you tell me how Jason's mother died?" His expression shifted immediately, darkening with
On the drive to pick up Brett, Heather felt a deep sense of failure. She had been with Brett for so many years, yet she didn't truly know him. He had even gotten into such deep conflict with Jason—all because of her. When she arrived at the police station, she saw Brett looking uncharacteristically disheveled. The once proud and meticulous eldest son of the Vanders now had stubble covering his face, his clothes wrinkled and unkempt. He reached for Heather's hand, relieved that she had obediently handed over her phone to the authorities. "Heather, I knew I could count on you," he said with satisfaction. "Don't worry. I won't be in too much trouble. From now on, you can rely on me."Brett had long prepared for this, having orchestrated everything so that Heather's father would take the fall. Now that the scandal had broken, he had no qualms about pushing Heather's father under the bus. Heather pulled her hand free. "You smell awful. Go home, take a shower, and change your clothe
Brett clung tightly to Heather, as if she were the only anchor keeping him from sinking. His voice trembled with genuine anguish. "Heather, please don't leave me." For a long moment, Heather remained silent. At the door, Jason stood watching them, his gaze dark and unreadable. Just then, their father stormed in from outside. The moment he saw Jason, his face contorted with fury. He charged forward and slapped Jason hard across the face. "You have the nerve to show up here!" their father roared. "Do you even realize what you've done?"Jason wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, the slap having split his lip. But despite the sting, a faint smile tugged at his lips. "I did what I should have done a long time ago, Father." Their father's anger turned to disbelief as he stared at Jason's cold expression. He realized, at last, that Jason had known the truth all along. Still, the father refused to accept his youngest son's actions. Pointing a finger at him, he barked, "You
Heather stood on the balcony, watching as Jason sped away in his car. He was driving way too fast, as if putting distance between himself and the disdain he surely felt for her—a woman too pragmatic and too calculating for his liking. Had he been about to take something out of his pocket just before leaving? Heather wondered for a moment—could it have been a ring? But it was too late for that. She had asked him twice already, even playfully, if he'd marry her. Each time, he had failed to give her an answer. And honestly, even if he had said yes, she wasn't sure she would have agreed. There were too many things to consider, too many calculations to make. The shortcut was right in front of her—why waste the energy and courage to take the long, winding road? Missing this chance was almost inevitable. Love wasn't a necessity, and between her and Jason, there was too much suspicion, too much hurt. Neither of them had the nerve to give themselves over fully anymore. They coul
Heather opened the door for Jason and immediately frowned and recoiled at the strong smell of smoke that enveloped him. He stepped inside but remained near the entrance, not coming any closer. As she busied herself by arranging food on the table, Heather noticed that her nausea had eased and that her appetite was returning. She sat at the table, savoring her meal, and asked, "Why are you here again, looking for foolish little me? Why does a smart person like you keep getting tangled up with me?" Jason placed a leather tube on the table. "Your painting," he said flatly. Heather set down her chicken drumstick and approached him, wiping her hands before carefully pulling out the painting. She studied it closely, unable to hide her admiration. "It's beautiful—I think this may be the most wonderful moment of my life, right here."Holding the painting, she glanced around the room. "Too bad the subject matter is so limited. How can I display it? If guests come over, they'll see thi
Jason lowered his eyes, gazing at the woman in his arms. Just moments ago, they had been so entwined, caught in the intensity of the moment. It was as though they needed nothing and no one but each other. But in a heartbeat, she had turned cold, and now she was discussing terms as if nothing had happened. Heather remained leaning against his chest, her fingers playing idly with the buttons on his shirt. "Jason, you know my father never liked me. He never planned to leave me a cent of his fortune. I've always felt insecure about that." She continued, "But now, I have a chance to inherit everything from the Jenner family—and maybe even from the Vanders too." She looked up, her soft lips kissing his chin as she added, "You'll help me, won't you? I need to stand tall, so when the day my father is released from prison comes, he can't make my life miserable. So that my mother and I can live with dignity." Her arms wrapped around his waist, clinging to him as if she were weak and
Heather ordered a cup of hot milk. In the past, with the weather so warm, she would have surely asked for iced fruit juice instead. Jason's gaze fixated on her, his eyes following the subtle shift in her posture. She sat with a languid elegance, propping a cushion behind her lower back for support. When she noticed his eyes lingering on her belly, she subtly adjusted her posture, making the curve of her abdomen more pronounced. Chuckling softly, Heather broke the silence. "Jason, you're going to be an uncle." A storm gathered in Jason's eyes, dark and swift. His hand shot out, gripping her arm so tightly it seemed he might snap it in two. But Heather remained calm, almost indifferent. "You probably know by now," she said lightly, "before your father passed, he gave his shares to me and the child. From now on, we'll rely on Vander Inc. for our livelihood." With deliberate ease, Heather patted the back of his hand. "As an uncle, you should show mercy. Let me and my child live
Naturally, Brett's father was overjoyed at the news of Heather's pregnancy. Without delay, he instructed the household to begin preparations for the wedding between Brett and Heather. He also summoned Heather and the family lawyer to his side. "Heather," he said, "I've watched you grow up. I know you're steady and reliable. Brett, on the other hand, is too impulsive and arrogant. To be honest, I've never felt at ease putting the company in his hands." The lawyer handed her a contract, and Heather glanced at it, her heart skipping a beat. What she saw shocked her. Brett's father explained, "I'm transferring my shares to you, Heather. The future of the Vanders, the future of the company, depends on you now." Heather, though taken aback, kept her composure. "Please, I'm afraid I'm not up to this." "You are," he insisted. "I've never been wrong about people. You'll do this for your child, for the future of the Vanders. You'll succeed."Eventually, Heather signed the contract.
Heather made her way to the hospital. Her father's illegitimate son had survived, but the long period of oxygen deprivation had left him severely brain-damaged. He sat there with vacant eyes, drooling uncontrollably, unable to speak. The doctors told her this was likely how he would be for the rest of his life. Heather couldn't help but feel a shiver of fear run down her spine. She was afraid that one day, she might end up like that—helpless, broken, beyond recovery. The power of the Knox family was not something someone like her could ever hope to challenge. Even Brett, who fancied himself as a scion of the wealthy elite, was no match for the kind of forces they were dealing with. He had been toyed with, unable to fight back, left powerless. Heather went to see her father after that to relay the grim news of the death of his mistress and the permanent injury to his son. Her father was furious and began cursing at her with venom. "You devil! Was this your doing? If you da
Heather was about to give him a chance to explain, but the moment was shattered. Just as Jason was about to speak, his phone rang. On the screen, the name "Khloe" appeared. His demeanor shifted immediately when he saw who was calling. Gone was any trace of impatience; instead, he calmly told the person on the other end that he would be there shortly. After hanging up, he turned to Heather, his voice cool and detached. "I've arranged for a safer nursing home for your mother. You should take her there." Heather sneered. "Why are you still pretending to care? What other purpose do you have that hasn't been fulfilled yet? Now that Chrishell is useless to you, do you have another task for me?"Chrishell, who had been loyal to Jason, was now facing a prison sentence for deliberately injuring someone with her car. Jason hadn't lifted a finger to help her, instead he had cut ties completely. Heather couldn't help but wonder—if she had fallen for him more deeply, if she had been brai
Heather met Brett's suspicious gaze with a calm, almost innocent expression. "Who could I possibly know? You're giving me too much credit, Brett. How could I have known anything about insider information?" She then asked, "Wasn't it you who insisted on buying the land? If I hadn't sold it to you, would you have accepted that? You bought so many properties—does that mean every previous owner knew about the policy change in advance?" Brett frowned, his suspicion not entirely dispelled. He continued to eye her warily. "Then why did you suddenly ask my father about Jason's mother?" Heather answered smoothly, her tone casual. "My mom's awake now, and she mentioned some things from when I was in school. Plus, after you got hurt, I started to suspect Jason was pulling strings behind the scenes, so I went to your father to ask."His next question came sharply. "Why did you hide Chrishell? What were you planning?" Heather barely blinked. "She was trying to flee with the money. How coul
Heather watched as Jason's face darkened rapidly, and a wave of satisfaction washed over her. To twist the knife deeper, she added, "I've always wanted to have Brett's child. Why go through the trouble with anyone else when I can have one from him?" She didn't look directly at him, but she could feel the coldness radiating from his body. Why was he so upset? They were just using each other. Isn't that what he had said? It was all about revenge, and she was just a tool for his revenge. His grip on her arm was still unrelenting, no matter how hard she tried to pull away. The pressure was biting into her skin, and the anger rose in her chest. She reached into her bag, pulled out a medical report, and threw it at him."Take a good look," she said impatiently. "I'm not pregnant. It's just stomach flu, nothing you need to worry about." Jason stared at the report, his eyes glued to it for a long, silent moment. Heather seized the opportunity to yank her arm free and shoved him