"You're welcome." Jenna Roland flashed a bright smile, unconsciously twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "Rest first. I'm going to shower."

"Alright."

Ethan Roscente's gaze lingered on her with dark intensity until the bathroom door clicked shut. His eyes fell on two medicine boxes resting silently on the coffee table. He reached out, fingertips grazing the packaging with deliberate slowness.

A faint smirk curled his lips as he set them back in place. Rising, he headed toward the bedroom.

By the time Jenna emerged from her shower, the bedroom was already dark. She tiptoed to the vanity, completing her skincare routine by moonlight before quietly arranging her floor bedding.

As she settled in, she exhaled deeply. A sideways glance confirmed Ethan hadn't stirred in bed. Satisfied, she closed her eyes.

In the darkness, Ethan's eyes slid open, his gaze tracing the curve of her curled form. Only after prolonged silence did his eyelids lower again.

...

A shrill ringtone jolted Jenna awake. The name flashing on her screen sent ice through her veins—Victor Roland.

"Jenna, not coming today?" His voice held unnatural calm.

Her fingers clenched the blanket. "What scheme are you plotting now?"

"We agreed on three thousand monthly for home-cooked meals." His tone suggested they were discussing the weather.

A cold laugh escaped her. "Had enough toilet water and spit already?"

A muffled sound crackled through the line before Victor spoke through gritted teeth: "Consider us even. No debts between us."

Jenna shot upright. This uncharacteristic concession made her skin prickle.

"Victor." Her voice could freeze hell. "What exactly are you playing at?"