Monday, at nine thirty in the morning,

Aveline looked at the tall walls and iron gates of the prison. She knew the world inside was different, but she still couldn't believe the man behind those gates had stolen her peace for two days and nights straight.

A car came to an abrupt stop behind them. A man in a suit greeted Alaric and handed him an envelope. "Let's go," Alaric said, holding her hand and leading her inside.

Words had been dropped between them. For two days, she had followed him quietly, complex thoughts and fears gnawing at her.

She wasn't sure what scared her more. Being misunderstood by him or being called mentally ill. So she kept her thoughts, her words, to herself.

Yet he was patient, never once doubting her, never once saying she might have imagined things.

But how long? How long could he stay that way?

She had walked away from Damien, but he had plagued the happiness she had found.

...

Inside the prison, they obeyed the rules in silence, stepping into the visiting room.

The dry air and the scent of iron clung to her lungs, adding to her suffocation while they quietly waited for Damien.

Both turned when the door opened with a loud noise. Damien Ashford walked in.

Aveline's brows furrowed at the sight. He was in a prison uniform, but he looked clean, tidy. His stubble was gone, his hair trimmed, not with the polish of a stylist he was used to, but enough to make him presentable.

Alaric stayed calm, expression unreadable, even as Aveline clutched his hand so tightly it was almost painful. He could feel it. She wasn't relieved to see Damien. On the contrary, her uneasiness deepened further.

"Oh… the new media favorite couple is here to visit me," Damien sneered. "I'm truly honored."

He sat across from them, eyes flicking between Aveline and Alaric as they stayed quiet, watching his state. "What? Here to gloat at my situation?"

He looked different, yet too familiar. Aveline's breath grew tight. She couldn't shake the doubt pressing on her mind.

Was she truly losing herself?

She expected to be at ease after seeing Damien in prison, but she was wrong.

Still, she steadied herself and asked the one thing clawing at her. "You won't be able to steal Alaric's second project."

Damien's brows furrowed. "How did you get to know?" His tone sharpened. He had been counting on Alaric's downfall, using it as a way to teach her a lesson.

Nicholas Lancaster was as desperate as him to ruin Alaric. So Damien was pinning his hopes on him.

Alaric's gaze flicked to her. So she had been right about Damien planning to steal his project. Then he smirked at Damien. "Did you think Nicholas Lancaster would survive against me?"

Damien's lips twitched. "That dimwit is good for nothing," he spat, cursing under his breath, assuming Nicholas had already failed. And Alaric would be more careful about his projects.

Alaric's lips thinned at that, though his eyes stayed cold.

Would Nicholas dare to continue the plan after whatever happened on Friday?

Damien watched the two in front of him. His voice dripped with poison. "How long were you together? Was it before the divorce?" His eyes searched for a response and zeroed in on Aveline: "All this time, you were just an adulterer."

Aveline clenched her teeth, but her face remained poised, her gaze steady. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her crack.

Alaric's smirk sliced the air. "Are you saying that in front of me?" His voice was cool, knowing. He had seen Damien's vacations with Vivienne, seen his nights at Obsidian while married to Aveline.

"You don't even talk," Damien scoffed as he leaned forward, "You're just licking my leftovers."

The words hadn't even cooled on his tongue before Alaric's fist struck his face. The crack rang through the room.

The cops at the doors surged forward, dragging them apart.

"Have you lost your mind?" one officer barked at Alaric. "It's against the rule!"

Damien tasted blood in his mouth. Holding his jaw, he glared at Alaric, struggling to break free from the cops.

Aveline's pulse spiked. 'Leftover?' That word meant to insult her, to drag her worth into the mud. And it stung sharper than she wanted to admit.

She stood, her voice calm but cutting. "Don't be delusional, Damien Ashford."

The room fell still, their attention shifting to Aveline.

"Other than signing a marriage certificate and poisoning me under the same roof, when were you ever my husband?"

Damien's face twisted, caught off guard. True, he didn't try to get close to her, but when he finally did, she slipped out of his hold.

Now that he thinks back, everything was meticulously planned and lied about when the reality was right in front of his eyes.

A curse was on the tip of his tongue when Aveline tilted her head, almost pitying. "Did you think taking off my heels a few times made you one?"

"You…" His face flushed with rage, realizing she had plucked that exact memory to shred his remaining pride and ego.

"Tsk…" Her lips curved into a dismissive smile. "I threw you out of my life, Damien. Don't ever forget, it was me who got rid of you."

Then she turned, slipping her hand into Alaric's and walking out without looking back.

Alaric smiled, looking at her back. He might have seen her vulnerable, but when it was time to fight, she wouldn't leave without making the other person regret it.

....

They weren't allowed to leave immediately. Alaric's punch had consequences. Giselle rushed in, paid the fine, and listened to the verdict. Alaric was banned from visiting anyone in prison for a year.

Outside, Giselle studied her half-brother in silence before exhaling. "Another ban added to your list. A visiting ban."

Aveline tilted her head, understanding that there were more bans in Alaric's name. What were they?

Giselle continued, "What did he say that made you lose your calm?" Damien had lost a tooth, his cheek was swollen, and he was in the infirmary of the prison, demanding to be taken to Lifeline Hospital.

Aveline shook her head lightly, wordlessly asking Giselle not to press about it.

Giselle's eyes flashed with understanding. Nicholas was punched for hurling Aveline. Then Damien's words must have been an insult toward Aveline.

She sighed. "Anyway, it's not like you have anyone to visit in here. Get back to work." With that, she got into her car and left.

Alaric was heading toward their car, but Aveline tugged his hand. "Where else are you banned? "

Before he could answer her, the roar of an engine cut through the silence.

A white Bugatti Veyron rolled to a stop in front of them. The chauffeur stepped out and handed the keys to Aveline. "Ms. Laurent, it's tested and safe for the road and traffic."

She pulled a few bills from her bag and passed them to her father's chauffeur. "Thank you, Mr. Lane. Take a cab back to the company."

Once the chauffeur left, she turned back to Alaric. His expression was complex, looking at the car as she clarified, "Bulletproof. Dad had it ordered after everyone learned about the massive land in my name."

Alaric said nothing, though his thoughts were restless. He had his own collection of bulletproof cars, but she didn't know that. And it was her father looking out for her, so he restrained the bitterness he felt.

"Then… pick me up in the evening. We'll go for a drive," he said.

Aveline smiled, nodding her head. She hoped they could get back to how they were when they were together. "Then five sharp."

He watched her effortlessly drive away before getting in his car and instructing his chauffeur, "Marston & Co."

....

At Marston & Co.

When the Rolls-Royce came to a halt, Ezra was already waiting for him. Alaric walked in with no regard for the security guards who tried to stop them. The glass doors shuddered when Ezra shoved them open. The two men in suits followed them inside.

"Theodore Marston is on the top floor," Ezra informed Alaric, who moved with unhurried confidence, but his eyes were ice.

As they reached the elevator, Ezra glanced behind, hearing a series of boot steps. He quickly informed Alaric, "Sir… Chairman Laurent is here with his team."

Alaric paused mid-step, turning slightly. A flicker of something intense crossed his expression. Possessiveness pricked him like needles. Henry Laurent had quietly stepped in again to shield Aveline.

Her father's protection was constant, assured, almost natural.

It impressed him. Yet it unsettled him. Because Alaric wanted to be the one to shield her, to be the man standing in front of every storm that came for her.

Henry walked forward, steady and composed, and when he reached them, he extended his hand and gave a small pat on Alaric's arm. An unspoken gesture of a father's approval that said, 'She has two to shield now.'

Alaric held his ground with a small nod of greeting. His possessiveness cooled, replaced by acceptance. He had no reason to be threatened. Aveline just had two people to protect her.

A group of voices drew their attention away.

Theodore Marston stepped out of the elevator, his face paler than the marble walls. His secretary trailed helplessly behind.

Theodore clenched his teeth. He was dealing with Aveline Laurent quietly, discreetly, while using her name to his advantage. But with Alaric Lancaster and Henry Laurent standing together, consequences hovered like thunderclouds, the future unpredictable.

He straightened his cuffs, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Gentlemen… shall we talk upstairs?" he said, though his voice lacked the confidence of a man in control.

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