"So you’re saying he really fell out of love?" Shawn stared at them in disbelief. "For her? That Dania woman? What’s so special about her?" Lucas’s voice was calm but thoughtful. "Before he left, Beth mentioned his therapist—and his insomnia." "That’s just her reminding him to keep up with treatment," Shawn snapped bitterly. "The bastard’s had chronic insomnia for over a decade. Aunt Beth used to make him calming tea every night. And now he dumps her for some young, pretty secretary?" Lucas turned toward Sloane, who nodded slightly, confirming that Tony indeed suffered from severe insomnia. Just then, the butler appeared at the door. "Dr. Rivers, Ms. Beth would like to see you." Beth’s bedroom door was slightly ajar. "It’s me," Sloane said softly, knocking. "Come in." Beth’s tone was unusually calm. Sloane entered to find her seated at a large desk, sorting through a stack of files. There were no tears on her face, but faint redness rimmed her eyes—a quiet testament to what she was holding back. "Sit," Beth said, gesturing to the sofa without looking up. "These are Miles’s medical reports from the last few years." Sloane took the folder and quickly began to skim through it. "I know you checked his pulse earlier," Beth said evenly. "I assume you had the same doubts I do. I want you to go through those reports and tell me the truth." Sloane looked up. "You suspect there’s something wrong with him?" Beth’s expression remained composed, but her eyes were sharp. "We’ve been married for over twenty years, through everything imaginable. I know that man better than he knows himself." Sloane frowned. "So when you reminded him about his therapist earlier… you were actually testing him? You think the man standing there might not be Tony?" Beth nodded. "Exactly. You noticed it too, didn’t you?" Sloane hesitated, then chose honesty. "I did. But when I took his pulse, everything seemed normal. There were no signs of drugs, no indication of interference. Based on his pulse and these medical reports, biologically speaking—he’s really Tony." Beth’s composure faltered for just a moment before she exhaled slowly. "Then that means… he truly turned his back on me." Sloane set the report down carefully and walked over to her. "Medically, I can’t confirm anything unusual. But that doesn’t mean nothing’s wrong." Beth’s gaze flicked toward her. "What do you mean?" "Medical analysis has limits," Sloane explained. "Some modern or experimental compounds don’t show up on routine scans or bloodwork. There are also forms of psychological or biochemical manipulation that leave almost no trace." Beth turned toward the window. The sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting uneven shadows across her face. "Twenty years," she murmured. "After everything we’ve been through… I refuse to believe he’d just stop loving me." Sloane stayed silent, knowing the woman needed space to think.Meanwhile, in another part of the house, Dania strolled toward the tall windows where Tony stood motionless, her silk nightgown glimmering in the soft light. She slipped her arms around his waist, her voice low and velvety. "Miles, come to bed. It’s late…" Tony’s body stiffened instantly. A strange discomfort rippled through him, as if his own skin rejected her touch. Every time she drew near, something deep inside him recoiled—though he couldn’t understand why. She’s the woman I love, he thought numbly. So why does it feel so wrong?