A remote women’s prison in W City.

A thin figure stood quietly at the entrance. The warden was the only one there to see her off.

“Once you’re out, leave everything behind. Try to live right. You’re still young—you’ve got plenty of time ahead. Just… don’t mess up again.”

Vivian Carter glanced back at the place that had swallowed five years of her life. Live right? Forget all this like nothing had happened? Could she really do that?

She remembered the day she first came in—just started college, barely eighteen. Now? Rough hands, tired eyes, and a face weathered beyond her twenty-three years—completely different from the girl she used to be.

She never wanted to set foot here again—ever.

If she had the chance, she’d erase the day she met Alexander Morgan. She’d never have ended up as some go-between for him and Sophia Bennett.

If only she could go back and live all over again—this time, just for herself.

Vivian didn’t head home right away after getting out. Instead, she went straight to Sophia’s grave.

She brought a small bouquet of lavender. The memory was still so clear—Sophia standing on the rooftop, sixty stories high, smiling as she spoke.

“Vivian, you know I love lavender. When you’ve got time, bring some and come talk to me at my grave, okay?”

She’d thought Sophia was joking.

Then she jumped—just like that. Sixty floors, without a second thought.

Vivian had tried to grab her—to stop her. But instead, Alexander and her mom had rushed over and saw it all wrong… they thought she’d pushed Sophia.

Now sitting alone at Sophia’s grave, a bottle of water in hand, Vivian looked totally wiped. Five years in prison had wrecked her, especially her stomach. Not only was alcohol off-limits, even cold food made her sick now.

“Sophia, can you believe they pinned this on me for five years? You think if Alexander ever knew the truth, he’d hate me even more? Or might he regret it, even a little?”

No one answered her. No one could.

Not that it mattered anymore. The moment Alexander and her own mother had stood in court and pointed fingers at her—accusing her of murder—her heart had shattered completely.

Getting released early? Total fluke.

She had jumped into the river wanting to end it all. But when she saw a little girl struggling in the water, she couldn’t help herself—she pulled her out. Turned out that girl was the police chief’s daughter. So, sentence reduced.

Vivian walked down the street, face blank. A deep blue Aventador ripped past her, splashing her with filthy water.

She looked up at the license plate—four eights. In W City, only one guy rolled with that plate.

Alexander Morgan.

Her eyes flickered. Of all people. Of all times.

Of course, he had to show up.

Alexander’s eyes caught her in the rear-view mirror. He gave a calm order to stop the car.

His voice was like ice.

“When did she get out? I thought it was a ten-year sentence.”

James Preston, the butler, replied, “It was. But she apparently saved the chief’s daughter recently and got her term cut short.”

He didn’t tell him before—figured it wasn’t worth mentioning. Alexander had made it clear—anything about Vivian Carter was not to reach his ears.

Vivian turned to leave—anywhere but here—thinking he’d drive off like always.

But suddenly, his car stopped right in front of her.

The door opened. Alexander stepped out slowly, his polished shoes hitting the ground with weight. He glanced at her, dressed in plain, washed-out clothes, with barely concealed disgust.

“You’re out?”