Michael sat in the quiet of his study, the air still and heavy. The bodyguards and caregivers had long since departed, leaving him alone with thoughts that refused to settle. He had always prided himself on being emotionally rock-solid—a man of logic and cold efficiency. But ever since Elizabeth Jones entered his life, his focus had become fractured.

He found it inexplicable. The old Michael was never swayed by anyone, yet now his mood seemed to shift based on her smallest actions. Even at work, his concentration wavered the moment her name was mentioned. He felt like a stranger to himself.

That night, his sleep was restless. He dreamt of a flash of crimson—Elizabeth in a vibrant red dress, walking with a newfound confidence that both challenged and mesmerized him.

The next morning, Elizabeth rose early. She had decided that if she could stay one step ahead of Michael’s schedule, she could avoid the suffocating tension of his presence. She dressed quietly and tiptoed toward the dining room, her spirits lifting at the prospect of a solitary breakfast.

But as she stepped into the room, she froze. Michael was already there, seated at the head of the table.

Does this man ever sleep? she wondered, her jaw tightening. But retreating would only make her look weak. She took her seat, maintaining a careful distance.

Susan brought her a plate of pancakes, the aroma warm and inviting. "Mrs. Thomas, I remember you mentioned these yesterday. I hope they're to your liking," Susan said with a kind smile.

"Thank you, Susan," Elizabeth replied, focusing entirely on her meal. She decided to treat Michael like a piece of furniture—necessary for the room, but not worth her attention.

Michael, however, was quietly observing her. He had expected her to be too intimidated to eat, but she finished her plate with an appetite that surprised him. He noticed her subtly adjusting her posture, looking satisfied and far more vibrant than the terrified woman who had first arrived at the estate.

"After breakfast, we're heading to the old mansion to see my mother," Michael said, his voice casual but firm. "Make sure you know how to represent the family today."

Elizabeth didn't back down. "If you want my cooperation, it’s doable. But we need to settle your debt first."

Michael looked up, a hint of genuine surprise in his eyes. "Pay for what?"

Elizabeth felt a spark of anger at his feigned ignorance. "Don't play dumb. You ruined a high-end dress last night, and I intend to pay the owner back. When are you going to cover the cost?"

Michael fought back a smile. He had already planned to handle it, but seeing her standing up for herself—eyes flashing and chin lifted—was far more entertaining than he expected. It was like watching a small, spirited bird defending its nest.

"I don't keep that much cash in the house," Michael said, taking a sip of milk. "If you're in a rush, I'll transfer it to you now."

Elizabeth quickly pulled out her phone, showing him the payment code before he could change his mind.

"How much?" Michael asked, opening his scanner.

"Ten thousand," Elizabeth stated boldly.

Michael paused, looking up at her. "Didn't the tag say eight thousand?"

Elizabeth raised her bruised wrist, showing the faint mark where he had held her too tightly the night before. "Eight for the dress, and two thousand for the medical expenses and the sheer headache of dealing with your temper. You're getting a bargain."

Michael didn't argue. He typed in the amount and sent the transfer. He found he actually preferred this version of Elizabeth—the one who challenged him instead of shrinking away.

Once the notification chimed on her phone, Elizabeth felt a wave of relief. "Don't think this makes us even, Michael. You still owe me some common courtesy."

She waved her wrist at him defiantly. Michael remained indifferent, but as he wheeled himself toward the door, a faint, unreadable smile touched his lips.

The drive to the Thomas mansion was quiet. Mary was being discharged today, and the villa was already teeming with relatives and "friends" of the family. Whether they were there to celebrate her recovery or to scout for weakness in Michael’s absence from the corporate front remained to be seen. Elizabeth straightened her shoulders, ready to play her part, but this time, she was doing it on her own terms.