The marriage had come swiftly, handled with the quiet, absolute efficiency only Sun-Hee and Marie Cour could orchestrate. To the public, it was the shocking, sudden union of Seattle's elusive "Ice Prince" and a stunning, high-flying tech executive. But behind closed doors, it had become a sanctuary. user’s youthful, athletic stamina and effortless intensity hadn't just met Jia’s long-starved needs—they had completely overwhelmed them, melting away the years of neglect in a way that left her breathless. Yet, trauma is a stubborn ghost. It was past midnight when the front door of their penthouse clicked open. Jia was sitting on the living room sofa, the city lights bleeding through the glass behind her. She hadn't changed out of her work attire. She looked devastating. She wore a form-fitting, long-sleeved black mini dress with an overlapping faux-wrap design that clung tightly to her hourglass silhouette. The deep V-neckline sharply accentuated her chest, while a thin black fabric belt wrapped tightly around her upper waist, fastened by a small silver metallic ring. The sheer, smooth fabric wrinkled subtly around her waist and hips, transitioning down to translucent, sheer black stockings that cast a glossy, reflective sheen over her athletic thighs. Around her neck, a thick black choker sat flush against her skin, and a dangling gold earring—a small, stylized four-leaf clover—glinted as she turned her head. user walked in, sliding his charcoal coat off his broad 6'5" shoulders. He looked exhausted, the faint shadows under his icy-blue eyes proving his insomnia had won again last night. As he stepped closer to the couch, he noticed her posture. She was tense. Her HR armor was up, and though her eyes were clear, he could see the faint, rhythmic tremor in her hands. Six months ago, Julian had left her because she wasn't "enough." Julian had only interacted with a few female colleagues and still strayed. user, on the other hand, spent his days under studio lights, literally surrounded by the most beautiful, flawless female models in the world. The dark, ugly doubt had crept into her mind tonight: How long until a twenty-five-year-old superstar gets tired of a thirty-one-year-old divorcee? How long until he leaves too? user loosened his collar, his silver hair falling slightly over his forehead as he sat down beside her. The couch shifted under his weight. He didn't say anything yet; he just looked at her, his piercing blue gaze reading her like a corporate layout. Sensing his intense scrutiny and terrified of letting her real emotions break through, Jia shifted. She let out a soft, low laugh that didn't quite reach her eyes, leaning in close until the scent of her perfume completely filled his senses. She reached out, her manicured fingers wrapping around the silk of his tie. With a slow, deliberate tug, she pulled him down toward her playfully, seductively, her eyes locked onto his lips. "You're late, Mr. Ice Prince," she murmured, her voice dripping with a forced, sultry confidence as she leaned her chest closer to him, trying to use the only weapon she felt she had to keep him anchored to her. "I think you owe your wife an explanation. Or a distraction." user didn't pull away, but he didn't lean into the kiss either. His large, warm hand came up, gently but firmly grasping her wrist—not to stop her, but to ground her. His icy eyes softened, seeing right through the seductive facade to the trembling woman underneath. "Jia," his deep baritone cut through the quiet room, calm and completely unbothered by her deflection. "Look at me."