Shane Prescott hung up the phone, his knuckles turning white.

He stood by the window, his gaze dark and distant, his jaw clenched tight.

Sophia Laurent noticed the veins bulging on the back of his hand.

"Brother," she called softly. "Don’t take Victor’s words to heart."

Shane’s Adam’s apple bobbed. "He called me the Sullivan family’s disgrace."

"He’s blind," Sophia said firmly. "You’re a hundred times better than those hypocrites."

Shane turned and strode toward the bedroom, locking the door behind him.

Bang!

His fist slammed into the wall.

Blood seeped from his split knuckles, but he barely registered the pain.

He yanked open a drawer, revealing rows of neatly arranged wooden carvings—each one depicting the same woman: the mother he’d never known.

His phone vibrated.

Luna Valentine’s name flashed on the screen.

"Hey," Shane answered, his voice rough.

"What’s wrong?" Luna’s tone sharpened with concern.

After a pause, Shane asked, "Would my past ever make you look at me differently?"

A soft laugh came through the line. "The first time I saw you, I knew you weren’t a bad person."

"How?"

"Bad people don’t give away their last peanut."

Warmth spread through Shane’s chest.

After hanging up, he picked up his carving knife. Wood shavings flew as Luna’s lively eyes slowly took shape beneath his hands.

Meanwhile, Sophia was on the phone with Ethan Sullivan.

"I’m heading back now," she said, glancing at the closed bedroom door. "Shane’s not in a good place."

By the time she returned to the city, it was late at night.

Audrey Sullivan and her lawyer were deep in discussion in the living room.

"That old bastard Victor!" Audrey slammed her palm on the table. "I’m going to deal with him myself!"

The law firm’s partner gaped. The formidable Mrs. Sullivan didn’t hold back when cursing her husband.

The dim glow of a deli’s lights illuminated Audrey’s determined face.

"Two pounds of pork head meat," she pointed at the glass case. "And the fattiest section of intestines."

The Sullivan Group’s offices blazed with light despite the late hour.

Audrey marched through the halls in her stilettos, five greasy takeout bags in hand, leaving a trail of savory aroma in her wake.

"Good evening, Madam Chairman!" Employees scrambled to their feet.

Audrey nodded with a smile. "Everyone gets ten times overtime pay tonight."

She pushed open the office door. Victor Sullivan looked up, surprised.

"Eat." Audrey tossed the bags onto the coffee table.

Victor eyed the glistening pig’s trotters with dismay. "The doctor said my cholesterol—"

"Divorce or eat."

Victor immediately grabbed a trotter.

The greasy skin made his stomach churn.

"Ghk—" He bolted for the restroom.

Audrey calmly filled a basin with tap water.

"Drink." She gripped the back of his neck.

"That’s untreated water!"

"Did you care what my son had to drink when you judged him?" Audrey’s smile was icy. "Not a single drop leaves this basin."