LOGINRegardless of whether Alice was ashamed or not, Jenna gave a damn. Alice struggled as she saw the woman tear the bandage off her bandaged left leg.
The temperature in the ward fell to below zero all of a sudden.
Jenna scoffed as she observed Alice's leg being watched.
“Wow, it's so terrible that not even a drop of blood is running out. If I arrived a little later, I'm worried that your ‘wound’ will totally heal.”
“Jenna! You... Rex, it's not like that... It's only that I'm feeling weak right now and will recover better with a blood transfusion.”
The man turned to look at Alice. As she frantically explained, her heart raced.
Four to five times a month, you get hurt. You're attempting to drain my blood, in my opinion. You won't have another chance like this in the future. “Jenna added in a chilly tone. Arrange for Rex to wed another fool to become your new mobile blood bank.
Jenna snorted after that and walked out of the ward without turning around.
Jenna collapsed on a bench in the hallway as she slammed the door to the ward shut, feeling depressed and as like the entire world had abandoned her.
Tears streamed down Jenna's eyes as she pulled out her phone and mumbled, "I'll try my hardest to make a call," her voice choking with exhaustion.
“Big brother….”
Only hearing her voice, the other person sighed quietly. His tone was gracious. “I'll come get you, where are you?"
A few minutes later, the unconscious woman was gently carried out of the hospital by a noble and elegant man who was in the company of a group of enigmatic men dressed in black.
With a dejected expression, Rex dragged the attending physician out of the ward. He was furious, as seen by his black eyes.
“Is this the quality of professionalism in your hospital? A serious leg injury?! Is a blood transfusion really necessary for scraped skin?”
Rex delivered a chilling performance. He felt guiltier and more intensely experienced that peculiar feeling in his heart every time he remembered Jenna's frail condition following her blood donation.
The doctor trembled and no longer dared to keep the truth from him.
"Mr. Hidalgo, we will never dare to do this again. It was Ms. Florence's command. It has nothing to do with our hospital. She said you agreed to all of the blood transfusions. Every time Ms. Jenna contributed blood, you were also there.”
‘Alice Florence Did I treat her too kindly? Just because of that picture, Jenna insisted on getting a divorce. Has she been misinformed about my friendship with Alice?’
Rex reasoned that he could simply explain it to her in that situation. Despite not feeling any passion for his wife, he had always been devoted to their union and was content with the way things were. He therefore had no problem continuing in this manner for the rest of their lives.
He had never considered getting a divorce since they got married, at least.
If Jenna wasn't happy with his connection with Alice, he may separate himself from Alice.
Rex believed that if they resolved this minor issue, their marriage would still be salvageable.
When he tried to call Jenna on her phone, it was off.
Rex drew the security who was standing at the door, his brows furrowed furiously. A little while later, the nervous bodyguard was in front of him.
"Mr. Hidalgo, the hospital's security footage was suddenly compromised ten minutes ago, and despite searching the entire facility, we are unable to locate the young madam anywhere.”
Rex scowled, even more, his thin lips curled into a tight line. He experienced an unexplainable emotion surge in his chest as he recalled Jenna signing the divorce agreement without hesitation. His deep, dark eyes had an unfathomable, impenetrable quality.
"Where can she go now that the divorce is final? She is financially disadvantaged.
His heart felt exceedingly uneasy, and the unpleasant feeling that usually dogged him became more severe at the notion of her leaving so abruptly.
"Get someone to look for her, and let me know as soon as you do."
"How could she switch off her phone in such a manner? She certainly stepped out of line! '
I agree, sir.
Rex did not want to admit that this woman, who was no longer his wife, had caused him to experience a moment of anxiety.
………………………….
The lavishly adorned room's limited-edition expensive Italian furniture felt familiar to Jenna. Her tears began to fall as soon as she opened her eyes and saw the lavish chamber that she had not seen in a while.
"This is my bedroom,"
It's simply a divorce; why are you crying? Do you believe the Anderson family won't be able to support you?
Her ears were filled with a wise and stern voice. Jenna cried even more and looked over with pained eyes.
Marcus Anderson, the fabled Chairman of the Anderson Empire, who had the power to quake New York City with the sole of his foot, was standing in Jenna's room, appearing regal and haughty.
"Dad..."
Time did not slow.It shattered.—High above the palace, the shooter exhaled.He lay prone against cold stone, body aligned with the rifle as if they were a single organism. The wind was steady. The distance measured. The variables accounted for long before the gala lights ignited below.Gold dress. Center mass.The target moved exactly as predicted.The shooter’s finger rested against the trigger, pressure increasing by fractions. He did not think of faces. He did not think of names. He thought only of instruction.Observe. Adjust. Execute.Below him, music swelled.A king danced.The woman in gold turned her head slightly, laughter flickering across her face for a heartbeat. Something tightened unexpectedly in the shooter’s chest.Annoyance.Emotion was a flaw.He corrected his breathing.—Rex moved before thought could catch him.The red dot burned against Jenna’s chest, a cruel mockery against gold, steady and precise. Rex’s body reacted on instinct older than reason—muscle memo
The red dot vanished as if it had never existed.Jenna froze.For a fraction of a second, her mind tried to rationalize it—light reflection, a trick of steam from the bathroom mirror, exhaustion playing cruel games. But instinct screamed louder than logic. The same instinct honed through years of discipline, bruises, broken skin, and relentless training.Danger.Her body responded before fear could settle.She slowed her breathing, grounding herself as her instructor had taught her years ago. Feel the floor. Control the pulse. Do not panic.Jenna crossed the room silently, muscles coiled, fingers flexing as she reached the balcony door. Madrid shimmered beyond the Glass; the city stretched beneath the midnight sky like a jeweled beast at rest. The breeze stirred the sheer curtains, cool and deceptive.She stepped outside.The air shifted.A scrape of fabric. A whisper of movement.Jenna turned—and the first assassin vaulted over the railing.She did not scream.Her foot snapped up ins
Morning arrived without mercy.Madrid woke beneath pale gold sunlight, but inside Jenna Anderson’s body, the night never truly ended.Every muscle protested as she stood before the tall mirror in the palace guest wing, carefully fastening the last button of her tailored navy suit. Bruises bloomed along her ribs beneath silk and wool. Her throat ached where steel had kissed skin. When she lifted her arm, pain sparked sharply down her side, bright and unforgiving.She welcomed it.Pain meant memory. Pain meant survival.Behind her, the heavy doors opened without a sound.David entered.He had changed as well—formal, austere, dressed in black with subtle gold accents woven into the cuffs and collar. There was no mistaking it now. No corporate illusion. No ambiguity.This was not the man who stood beside her in boardrooms.This was the king.“Are you ready?” he asked quietly.Jenna met his gaze through the mirror. “I’ve faced worse rooms.”A corner of his mouth lifted, but his eyes remain
The red dot vanished as if it had never existed.Jenna froze.For a fraction of a second, her mind tried to rationalize it—light reflection, a trick of steam from the bathroom mirror, exhaustion playing cruel games. But instinct screamed louder than logic. The same instinct honed through years of discipline, bruises, broken skin, and relentless training.Danger.Her body responded before fear could settle.She slowed her breathing, grounding herself as her instructor had taught her years ago. Feel the floor. Control the pulse. Do not panic.Jenna crossed the room silently, muscles coiled, fingers flexing as she reached the balcony door. Madrid shimmered beyond the Glass; the city stretched beneath the midnight sky like a jeweled beast at rest. The breeze stirred the sheer curtains, cool and deceptive.She stepped outside.The air shifted.A scrape of fabric. A whisper of movement.Jenna turned—and the first assassin vaulted over the railing.She did not scream.Her foot snapped up ins
The private jet cut through the clouds like a silver blade, leaving New York behind in a trail of pale morning light. Jenna Anderson sat by the window, her gaze fixed on the endless blue outside, yet she saw nothing of the sky. Her reflection stared back at her—calm, composed, impeccably dressed in a tailored cream coat—but beneath that still surface, her thoughts churned restlessly. Madrid. The name echoed in her mind with unfamiliar weight. This was not merely an expansion trip. It was her first official overseas appearance since reclaiming her identity, her power, and her name. The European launch would determine whether Anderson Global truly stood as a world-class empire—or merely an American giant trying to cross oceans it didn’t yet understand. Across from her, Steeve flipped through a digital report, his brows drawn together in concentration. He looked up occasionally, glancing at Jenna with an expression that mixed professional respect and quiet admiration. “Everything’s
David Branson left without revealing anything.That was what the world saw.Black vehicles vanished into Manhattan traffic. Armed men disappeared. Sirens dissolved into the distance. By the time the glass doors of J&J headquarters stopped trembling, the moment already felt unreal—like a power surge that never fully discharged.Jenna remained still for several heartbeats after he was gone.Not because she was weak.Because something unfinished hovered in the air between them.The boardroom demanded her back.She returned with the same composed authority she had rebuilt since the island—heels steady, shoulders squared, eyes sharp enough to cut through fear and speculation. Directors were already mid‑panic, voices overlapping, legal teams dialing embassies, assistants whispering the word royal like it might explode.Jenna raised one hand.Silence fell."What you witnessed today," she said evenly, "was not a declaration. It was an introduction."A director cleared his throat. "Ms. Anderso







