Despite the stream of complaints and impatient texts lighting up his phone, Sterling's mood was unusually bright. He'd signed off on the dinner menu but shot down the snack list with one decisive vote. Then, instead of heading straight home, he swung by a high-end patisserie to pick up a small cake—an unnecessary indulgence, but one he couldn't resist. Henry's curses—his shrill insistence that no one would ever love him—didn't stick. Sterling didn't need love, that fragile, fickle thing. Whatever he liked, he'd take. And calling what he felt for Claudia love would've been a stretch. But that flicker of interest she'd sparked was enough for him to mark her as his. His fragile little Rosebud. He didn't mind tending to her himself. But the gardener's good mood soured the instant he spotted the unwanted shadow lingering near her apartment building. Jasper. At Lydia and Zane's urging, Jasper had decided he'd wait—let Claudia come apologize before he forgave her. But after staring at his silent phone for weeks, the truth finally hit him: she wasn't calling. They had never gone this long without speaking. Regret ate at him like acid. Why had he insisted on matching her stubbornness when he knew her better than anyone? And then came the fire—Grandma's house. The Lancasters had tried to bury the story, terrified of upsetting Lydia's fragile health. But when Lydia brought up the property transfer, Lottie had been forced to tell her the truth. Without its emotional weight, the old house was just another crumbling lot on the outskirts of the city. The priest's talk about it "protecting the family's fate" suddenly felt meaningless. Lydia had been shattered. "That was Grandma's favorite place," she'd sobbed. "How could Claudia be so cruel?" Lottie had comforted her for hours, whispering promises. "We'll find another heirloom, something that means just as much." Lydia had only cried harder. "I'm not sad for me. It's just—Grandma's gone, and now even her home is gone too." Watching Lydia weep in Lottie's arms, Jasper had fallen silent. He'd grown up with both of them—he knew damn well that Claudia's bond with Grandma had been deeper than Lydia's could ever be. If Lydia was this heartbroken… then what about Claudia? What had she felt in that moment, lighting the match? How broken must she have been? For the first time, Jasper regretted not being there when she needed him most. He'd tried to call. Blocked. He'd gone to her door. No answer. The panic had clawed at him until Whitney finally called back—furious, but reassuring him that Claudia was alive and safe. If not for that, he might've called the cops. Once every dark possibility had been ruled out, only one truth remained: Claudia really meant to cut him off. The realization hollowed him out.He started haunting her building like a stray dog—watching the lights upstairs flicker on and off, waiting for her to come down. When he wouldn't stop knocking, she called security on him. Within days, he'd grown thinner, paler, and desperate. His mother was livid. She'd watched him and Claudia grow up together. As a little girl, Claudia had been a joy—bright, sweet, adored by everyone in the Lancaster house. Of course she'd spoiled her. But once Lydia arrived and Claudia began pulling away, even she had grown frustrated. So when Jasper came home defeated yet again, she'd snapped. "Maybe the engagement should just go to Lydia instead." The look on his face had frozen her blood. "There's nothing between me and Lydia," he said coldly. "I'll only ever marry Claudia." "Then why," his mother shot back, "do you always choose Lydia over her?" She hadn't meant it—she'd just said what everyone already knew. His father treated Lydia like a second daughter. His mother-in-law favored the one who could bring the family more advantage. She'd only said aloud what everyone was thinking—and somehow, that made her the villain. Jasper's chest tightened painfully. Even his own parents saw it. The Lancasters had always favored Lydia—and Claudia had grown up drowning in that imbalance. And he… he'd stood on the wrong side of it every single time.What the hell had he done? Leaving the house, Jasper went straight back to her apartment. He just wanted to talk to her. To see her. To hold her. But this time, Claudia wasn't softening. She was done. It didn't matter. Claudia was softhearted; she always had been. If he kept trying, she'd forgive him. He believed that—naively. But to someone else watching from the shadows, his persistence didn't look romantic. It looked parasitic. Sterling's lips curled in disgust. Crawling toward the scent of another man's rose—filthy, shameless. Lower than a cockroach. Should he take his legs? Or gouge out his eyes? The thought made his pulse steady, his expression calm again. The name Jasper wasn't unfamiliar. It had popped up several times when Sterling first investigated Claudia. And only recently, he'd been dumped—for defending the wrong person. Humiliated, rejected, down to one knee with a ring and no answer. No matter how much he swore there was nothing between him and Lydia, Sterling only saw it one way. Flies don't swarm unless there's a crack in the shell. Judgment passed.