Sophia's heart skipped a beat.

Ethan had rushed across mountains and rivers just to ensure her safety.

All the grievances from being doubted vanished in that moment.

She buried her face in his chest, whispering almost inaudibly, "When that man tore my clothes, I even drafted my will in my mind."

Ethan's heart clenched violently.

A sharp pain exploded in his chest, spreading through his limbs.

He pulled her tightly into his arms, his voice trembling. "Don't say such things."

Three years of relying on each other had made him unable to bear hearing even a hint of those words.

Sophia paused, then said softly, "Luckily..."

She swallowed the name on the tip of her tongue.

She had meant to say, "Luckily Kyle arrived in time."

But remembering Ethan's jealousy, she forced herself to change it. "Luckily you came. Otherwise, I wouldn't have slept tonight."

A shadow flickered in Ethan's eyes.

He had caught the abruptly cut-off name.

Yet when Sophia corrected herself, the gloom between his brows quietly dissipated.

"I've assigned two more bodyguards," he said, stroking her hair. "Don't worry about others' opinions. Your safety comes first."

This time, Sophia didn't refuse.

If she had listened to him and brought more people, tonight's horror wouldn't have happened.

In the dead of night, the nightmare returned.

Amid raging flames, a young man pushed her out of the fire, only to be consumed by the blaze himself.

"Kyle!" she cried out in her dream, reaching for that fading figure.

Ethan pulled the murmuring Sophia closer.

He closed his eyes.

As long as she stayed by his side, he would accept whoever's name she called in her dreams.

At dawn, Sophia saw Ethan already dressed in his impeccably tailored suit, his tall frame accentuated by the sharp lines.

She suddenly threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face against his chest.

"Now you know how I feel?" Ethan chuckled, ruffling her hair. "Come back soon."

Sophia mumbled an affirmative.

"Don't take jobs out of town next time," he said, pinching her earlobe. "It's too hard to see you."

"Mr. Sullivan is so clingy," she teased, though her eyes sparkled with amusement.

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Being clingy to my wife is only natural."

The word "wife" warmed Sophia's heart.

That title carried so much—shared storms, life and death together.

Before leaving, Ethan insisted on leaving two bodyguards behind.

They compromised—he took only one.

"I'll send replacements soon," he said, kissing her forehead. "Don't make me worry."

On their way out, they ran into Iris. Ethan's gaze turned icy.

"What's his problem?" Iris asked, baffled by his glare.

"He's just reserved," Sophia quickly explained before hurrying after Ethan.

Back in her room, Sophia called Kyle.

"Thank you for last night," she said sincerely. "I'd like to gift your father a reproduction of Bada Shanren's work as a token of gratitude."

Kyle's voice was distant. "It was nothing. Don't mention it."

"How about 'Withered Tree & Crows'?"

"Up to you." He paused. "Stay safe."

After hanging up, Sophia resumed restoring the ancient silk painting.

By afternoon, commotion erupted outside.

A group of white-haired scholars entered the courtyard, surrounded by attendants.

One spirited old man in a deep blue Tang suit suddenly stopped, his piercing gaze locking onto Sophia.

Step by step, he approached, tears welling in his eyes.

"So alike," he murmured, trembling, as if seeing a long-lost friend through her.