Dania’s heart swelled with smug satisfaction. Just as she was about to lean in closer, Tony suddenly pushed her away. "I still have work to finish. You should go to bed first," he said curtly, already turning toward the door. Her expression froze, the sweetness on her face vanishing in an instant. The same excuse—again. She remembered how Tony hadn’t resisted Beth’s touch earlier that day, and fury flared in her chest. She stormed forward, blocking his path. "You’re not going anywhere tonight." Tony’s gaze turned cold. "What’s that supposed to mean?" Panicking, Dania switched tactics, letting tears pool in her eyes. "Miles, do you not love me anymore? Ever since we came back from Farocia, you’ve been distant. You won’t even sleep in my room. What happened to you?" Tony didn’t have an answer. In his memories, Dania was the woman he loved, while his marriage to Beth had always been one of convenience. So why did her touch make his skin crawl? Why did Beth’s face—her calm, steady presence—linger in his mind no matter how hard he tried to push it away? Something flashed deep in his thoughts, a faint fragment of memory he couldn’t quite catch. He reached for it instinctively—then pain exploded in his skull. "Ah!" Tony cried out, clutching his head as if his skull were splitting apart. "Miles? What’s wrong?" Dania gasped, rushing toward him—then her eyes narrowed in sudden calculation. She raised her right wrist and shook the silver bangle that hung there. A clear, delicate chime filled the room—its tone too precise, too rhythmic, vibrating at an unnatural frequency that made the air itself hum. Tony screamed again, collapsing to the floor, his face twisted in agony. "My head… it hurts… so much…" Then he went limp. Dania stopped shaking the bracelet and crouched beside him, a cruel smirk spreading across her lips. "Still resisting? I really underestimated how deep your feelings for Beth run." She dragged his body back onto the bed, her fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw with possessive hunger. "What does she have that I don’t, huh? What makes her so special?" Her voice softened into a venomous whisper. "But it doesn’t matter. Soon you won’t even remember her name. You’ll only have me." Across town, the crystal chandeliers of the Mirevia Charity Gala bathed the ballroom in golden light. Beth, radiant in a dark green haute couture gown, moved gracefully among the city’s elite. Her poise was unshakable, her smile impeccable. "Your insight into the renewable energy market is remarkable," said an elderly gentleman from the Robinson family, raising his glass. "We look forward to further cooperation with Oliver Group." Beth smiled, the picture of effortless elegance. "The pleasure would be ours." Then a murmur rippled through the hall. At the entrance, Tony appeared—arm in arm with Dania. The woman’s crimson dress clung to her body like fire, every inch of her posture screaming triumph. She might as well have worn a sign that read the mistress has arrived."Is that Tony? With a new date?" someone whispered. "He’s divorcing Beth, right? What a scandal." "Strange… he used to adore Beth. How could he change so suddenly?" The whispers spread like wildfire. Beth’s hand tightened around her champagne flute, her knuckles whitening for a split second. Then she smiled politely at the elder beside her. "Excuse me for a moment." She walked toward them, every step measured, steady, and regal. Dania pulled Tony closer, her eyes flashing with open provocation. The crowd fell silent as the three drew near. And just as they were about to pass each other, Beth stopped.