The suffocating heat over Jincheng was finally put to rest by one brutal downpour.

When Serena Holloway came out of the club where Ethan Mercer was, the rain hit her head-on before she could react. Her off-shoulder white French-style dress was quickly soaked through, wrinkled and clinging, thin enough to make her scalp tingle with embarrassment.

Just then, Ethan walked out from inside. Mason Hale, the secretary beside him, promptly opened an umbrella over his head.

Ethan glanced at Serena, the corner of his mouth lifting into a faint, playful smile. "Want me to drive you back?"

Serena looked toward the Maybach parked at the entrance. Then she looked down at herself, dripping all over, and shook her head. "No need. I don't want to dirty your car, Mr. Mercer."

The club entrance was bright as daylight, and under that harsh white light, Serena finally got a proper look at Ethan's face.

He really was ridiculously good-looking. Probably impossible to find another man in all of Jincheng who carried himself like that.

Sharp features. Broad shoulders, narrow waist. Long straight legs. Cold, proud, expensive-looking. The kind of man who gave off that untouchable, abstinent-god vibe without even trying.

Only... the way he looked at her was a little too cool, too detached. Still, at least he was decent enough. A moment ago, he hadn't forced her.

"Thank you for tonight, Mr. Mercer. I was rude to you."

Ethan let out a cold little laugh. "Rude to me?"

He looked at her with lazy amusement. "Miss Holloway, those words sound more like a man's territory. Not exactly the right fit for you."

Serena's face turned red on the spot. She lowered her eyes and pretended she hadn't heard that.

Ethan watched her flushed little face, all awkwardness and soft restraint, and the interest in his eyes deepened a little. "Besides, thanking me with empty words? That's kinda low on sincerity."

Serena glanced down at her dress. It was practically see-through by now. Mortified, she turned slightly and hurriedly raised her clutch in front of her chest.

Ethan lowered his gaze, a faint curve forming at his lips, then said a few quiet words to Mason.

Holding the umbrella, Mason turned and went back to the business car.

Ethan, meanwhile, clasped his hands behind his back and looked up at the pouring rain. He looked tired, almost lazy, like nothing in the world could really bother him. "Miss Holloway, I have a feeling that before tomorrow's over, you'll come looking for me again."

Serena hugged her bag tighter. Her voice shook a little from the cold. "I won't."

Ethan gave a light, mocking smile as he looked at her. Her gaze was stubborn, but there was also this helpless, almost innocent softness in it that made people want to pity her. "A woman who can be ruthless to a man is usually even more ruthless to herself."

Serena lowered her eyes and didn't say a word. Quietly, she glanced at his wrist.

A few teeth marks were still there.

Back then, she'd overreacted.

He had only leaned toward her, brushed her cheek once with his rough thumb, and murmured a slurred little "Rongrong."

And she'd bitten him hard.

At the time, Ethan hadn't cried out in pain. He'd only paused for a moment, then sneered, "Miss Holloway, now I know your zodiac sign."

Not long after, Mason came back from the car with an umbrella and handed it to Serena.

She turned to Ethan. "Thank you."

Ethan gave a slight nod, then got in the car and left.

Serena walked alone under the umbrella for a long time before finally reaching the road outside the club. She called Jordan Kearsley, but no one answered. Not once.

Jordan was Serena's first love. They'd been together for almost six years.

But calling it love... maybe "mutual use dressed up as devotion" would be closer to the truth.

Serena had skin hunger syndrome. When an episode hit, she'd cling to Jordan, hold him tight, trying to soothe that broken, starved part of her heart that had never really been loved right.

And Jordan had long treated her like free labor for the family business. No salary, no title, no thanks needed. As long as it helped Kearsley Trading, Serena would do anything willingly.

Anything except selling her body.

Still, there had been feelings. Serena liked Jordan. And until tonight, she had also believed Jordan liked her.

Over the years, helping him had become a habit.

What she hadn't expected was that, for the sake of getting investment into Kearsley Trading, Jordan would trick her into coming back from Ningke University. He'd used "helping with the financing plan" as an excuse, got her involved in the whole financing process from start to finish—

but his real goal had been to hand her over to Ethan Mercer, the big-money investor who'd come from Ningdu for an inspection.

A few hours earlier, Jordan had brought Serena to the dinner.

After several rounds of drinks, he left.

And left Serena behind in Ethan's private room.

Standing in the heavy rain, Serena kept trying Jordan's number, but it never went through. Even her anger, her urge to confront him, got washed away little by little. In the end, all that was left was exhaustion as she dragged herself toward home.

Then suddenly, Jordan called back.

For one split second, Serena froze.

A ridiculous thought flashed through her mind—

Maybe he had his reasons.

Maybe she'd misunderstood him.

She held the umbrella and answered carefully, almost nervously, scared she might miss his explanation.

But the moment the call connected, what came through wasn't his apology.

It was noise. Loud, messy, drunken noise.

And Serena knew that kind of noise all too well.

After abandoning her, Jordan had gone straight to another drinking party—

"I heard Serena came back to help you handle your company's financing. Damn, you've got vision. Getting yourself a top student for a wife? That's slick."

Jordan replied in the calmest voice possible, saying the filthiest thing imaginable. "She's just for fun. She's the daughter of some washed-up mistress. You think I'd actually let her be Mrs. Kearsley?"

The room immediately erupted with hoots and laughter, men and women both joining in.

Then another man asked, "With Serena's face and body, that must be crazy good, right?"

Jordan paused for a second, then said with obvious resentment, "The annoying part is I still haven't actually gotten her. Every time it's just hugging, that's it." He stopped, then added bitterly, "So, following the principle of making the best use of everything, I just gave her away."

"Holy hell, Young Master Kearsley, that's savage. Sending your own woman off like she's some object. You've already got that ruthless successful businessman vibe..."

He must've hit redial by accident.

By then, Serena couldn't listen anymore. She hung up.

She lifted her head and looked at the rain crashing down from the sky. Then she threw away the umbrella and stepped forward into the water, walking home through the storm.

The cold on her face—she couldn't tell what was rain and what were tears.

But for the first time in forever, her mind had never felt so clear.

The next day, Jordan called and asked why she hadn't gone to the office to help.

Serena answered flatly, "I got caught in the rain on my way back last night. I caught a cold."

There was a long pause on the other end. Then Jordan said, "Linlin, my mom had one of her headaches last night. I had to rush her to the hospital. I'm really sorry."

"Mm. That's it for now. I want to sleep a bit."

"Linlin, last night, you..."

Before he could finish, Serena hung up.

He still had the nerve to bring up his mother.

The cream-white off-shoulder French dress she'd worn last night was the very one Mrs. Kearsley had taken her shopping for.

At the time, Serena had felt the skirt was a little too short. Mrs. Kearsley had immediately looked at her like she was making a fuss over nothing, like she was small-minded and provincial.

Serena had forced herself to wear it anyway, just to please her, just to avoid causing Jordan trouble.

Now that she thought about it, the whole family had planned this from the start.

Mr. and Mrs. Kearsley looking down on her background didn't surprise her. There weren't many people in Jincheng who respected her anyway.

What she hadn't expected was that Jordan was exactly the same.

That boy in white who'd once seemed all bright and fearless, like he could light up her whole world, was gone.

Not even a trace of warmth was left.

He had been worn down by the dirty grit of the real world until his face was unrecognizable.

Serena laughed.

Curled up under the blanket, she laughed until tears rolled out of her eyes.

Then she wiped her face and sent Jordan a message—

Jordan, your fake face makes me sick. We're done. You don't need to keep acting in front of me anymore. And for the record, this "mistress's daughter" never wanted to marry you either. As for Kearsley Trading's financing? Dream on.

Jordan immediately called.

She declined it and switched her phone to silent.

After waking again, Serena took a shower. Then she found the handbag she'd brought back last night and dug out a crumpled business card—

President of Shengyanrong Investment Group · Ethan Mercer

Serena stared at the phone number for a long while, giving herself a full mental pep talk before finally dialing it.

It rang for ages before someone picked up.

"Hello? Who's this?"

Serena pressed her lips together. "Mr. Mercer, this is Serena Holloway. I want to talk to you about—"

"Serena Holloway? Which one?"

Her breathing stalled.

Clearly, Ethan had already forgotten she even existed. Last night, that comment had just been an offhand line spoken on a whim, nothing more.

Then a sweet, coquettish female voice drifted from his side. "Mr. Mercer, whose call is it? You're so bad..."

"Heh. Be good. Eat first..."

Ethan's voice was lazy and low, like he hadn't even gotten out of bed yet.

As for what exactly she was supposed to "eat," Serena's mind instantly produced a bunch of indecent images she really didn't want. Her stomach turned.

She dug her nails into her palm. "Sorry. Wrong number."

Then Ethan suddenly spoke again, amusement threaded through his tone.

"Miss Holloway, shall we meet?"