The man's black shirt hung half open, exposing a broad, tight chest and the faint outline of sharp abs underneath.

In the dim, suggestive light, he strode toward Claire Weston on those long legs, every step carrying a pressure that felt almost suffocating.

Claire was so scared she kept backing away. "Y-you... don't come any closer..."

He kept advancing, step by step, until he had forced her all the way into the corner. Only then did he stop. His big hand clamped around her chin, and he stared at her with a cold, cutting look. "Still planning to run?"

Claire lowered her eyes, forcing down the fear as she shook her head. "N-no. I won't run."

He pinched her delicate chin and made her lift her head. Then his thumb rubbed hard across her lips.

"Claire Weston, stop thinking about leaving me. Even if you die, you'll only die in my bed."

His shameless, overbearing words made her face burn red. She was furious and humiliated all at once, but she still forced herself to swallow the disgust and anger.

She had no choice. Fighting him head-on would only make things worse. Better to act obedient. At least that way, she might suffer a little less.

To make herself look softer, more compliant, she lowered her eyes, and tears slipped down her cheeks.

"What are you crying for?" He lowered his head and, suppressing the heat raging inside him, bit down hard on her lip. His voice was low and hoarse, tight with restraint. "You really hate being with me that much?"

Claire kept her eyes shut and said nothing. Her long lashes, damp with tears, trembled lightly.

"Then who do you want to be with? Who?" He gripped her face, the corners of his eyes turning faintly red as he stared at her with a sharp, aggressive gaze. "Open your eyes. Look at me when you speak."

"No... no one." Claire opened her eyes with a tremble. Her gaze was shattered, fragile, as she looked at the man in front of her. Her voice caught as she pleaded, "Mr. Mercer, I don't want to be with anyone. I'm begging you... please let me go, okay?"

She begged in a soft, careful voice, hoping maybe, just maybe, he would show even the tiniest bit of mercy.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her with one arm. Holding himself back, he bit down on her neck, his voice dark and rough. "What you should say is, 'I want to be with Ethan Mercer.' Got it?"

Claire endured it again and again before finally saying softly, "I want to be with Ethan Mercer."

Under the crushing force of his presence, compromise was the only thing she could do.

His eyes darkened. Carrying her, he strode quickly into the bedroom and shoved her down with an urgency that was almost savage. His long fingers pressed in hard. "Has he ever touched you here?"

"Ah!" Claire cried out.

"Claire!" her assistant Serena Ashford asked anxiously. "Claire, what's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?"

Claire jolted awake from the dream, eyes full of panic, breathing in huge, uneven gasps.

Hearing the cry, a flight attendant hurried over. "Ma'am, are you feeling unwell anywhere?"

The plane had just passed over Lingbei, and even the air seemed to turn dry.

Claire swallowed with difficulty, her throat rough and parched. She waved her hand. "I'm fine, thank you." Then she turned to Serena Ashford and said, "I'm okay. I probably stayed up too late revising the script last night and didn't rest well, so I ended up having a nightmare."

Revising the script was just an excuse. The truth was, after finding out she had to come to Beicheng today, she hadn't slept at all last night.

She'd finally managed to fall asleep after getting on the plane, only to dream that awful nightmare. Except it wasn't really a dream. It was something she had actually lived through. And after waking up in fright, there was no way she could go back to sleep.

The plane landed in Beicheng at 5:35 in the afternoon. It was late autumn. The sun hovered on the verge of setting, and the clouds at the horizon burned like fire.

The whole sky was bright red, glowing brilliantly, but the air in Beicheng was cold and dry, carrying a harsh, biting chill. It felt exactly like the man she still couldn't erase from her memory even after five years—third son of the Mercer family, Ethan Mercer.

A lot of people in Beicheng were afraid of Ethan Mercer.

Claire was too.

More than anyone.

She'd been so scared that for five whole years, she hadn't dared set foot in Beicheng even once.

This trip back to Beicheng wasn't something she wanted at all. She'd been pushed into it, basically dragged along with no choice, just like eight years ago when she was forced into that heavily guarded little building where he lived, and then forced into three years of entanglement with him after that.

Five years ago, she took a knife for Ethan Mercer. She gave up half her life for it, and only then did she finally earn the freedom to leave him.

The day she left had also been deep autumn. Sophora leaves drifted all over the city, and the evening clouds at the horizon blazed like fire.

Ethan Mercer stood beneath a sophora tree that had already shed all its leaves. The sunset filtered through those bare branches and fell over him, making his whole body look cold and deadly, like some kind of living Asura.

"Claire Weston, I'm only letting you go this one time. If you leave, then never come back."

"Thank you, Mr. Mercer. Don't worry. I won't come back. Not in this lifetime. I will never set foot in Beicheng again."

But she broke that promise.

Five years later, she had come back to Beicheng after all.

That was why she hadn't slept last night, and why she had that nightmare on the plane in broad daylight. Because she was scared. Scared of running into Ethan Mercer again. Scared of falling under his control again.

No one knew better than she did just how terrifying that man's desire to control and possess could be. After all, she'd spent three years under his near-deranged grip.

And besides not wanting Ethan Mercer to control her again, she also didn't want to get dragged back into the mess between Ethan Mercer and Geordie Mercer, being fought over by uncle and nephew like some prize to be claimed. That kind of thing would make her feel like she had no basic rights at all, like she was nothing more than a toy for them to flaunt their power with.

Thankfully, she had already left Ethan Mercer behind. She had no more ties with him, and she had escaped that uncle-nephew pair too.

Back then, after leaving Beicheng, she went abroad. She only returned to the country last September. Now she worked as a screenwriter at a film and television company called Yiyun Media. Natalie Caldwell, her high school classmate, had introduced her to the company. Natalie was one of the executive directors there and had a decent amount of say in the company.

Of course, even without Natalie's help, Claire could still have gotten into Yiyun Media on her own abilities. But with Natalie there, her position in the company was steadier. People were less likely to mess with her on purpose, and it saved her from a lot of pointless trouble.

Last summer, their company released a smash-hit drama. The reputation boost was insane. Ads came pouring in, and attracting sponsors and investment stopped being a headache.

At the start of this year, the company planned to produce a big-name xianxia IP drama. The early stages—project approval, script coordination, all of it—went smoothly. Luckily, they even secured sponsorship pretty quickly. The only issue was that the investor was a major figure in Beicheng. Right before the contract was supposed to be signed, that big shot suddenly made a request: the core creative team had to bring the proposal to Beicheng and discuss it in person.

As the company's screenwriter, Claire was naturally part of the core team. Logically, she should have gone to Beicheng with them.

At first, when she heard they had to go to Beicheng, she refused on the grounds that she wasn't feeling well. Natalie didn't think much of it and agreed pretty readily, telling her to stay in Haicheng and wait for good news.

But yesterday, just after Natalie and the others arrived in Beicheng, Natalie called her that afternoon and said the investor felt they weren't being sincere.

"How is that not sincere?" Claire felt a wave of unease rise inside her.

Natalie said, "The money guy literally said that if even our lead screenwriter couldn't be bothered to come, then we had zero sincerity. He didn't even stay for dinner. Just got up and left."

Suppressing the uneasiness in her chest, Claire tested the waters in a casual, joking tone. "What's this investor's name, exactly? Which big Beijing-circle boss is he?"

Natalie replied, "His last name is Dalton. The second son of the Dalton family, the richest family in Nancheng."

Claire quietly let out a breath. "Dalton, huh."

Natalie asked, "What? What's wrong?"

Claire smiled. "Nothing."

As long as the name wasn't Mercer, then it was fine. If it was Dalton, that was even safer.

Brendan Dalton, second son of the Dalton family in Nancheng, had always been at odds with Ethan Mercer. The two had even fought openly for a while over the Southeast Asian market before.

Since this drama was funded by Brendan Dalton, then she shouldn't have to worry about running into Ethan Mercer.

After getting off the plane, Claire and her assistant Serena Ashford grabbed a cab and headed straight to the hotel.

The moment she arrived, Natalie handed her a sea-blue fishtail gown from a luxury brand's newest autumn collection and told her to change into it.

Claire looked confused. "Why do I need to change?"

Standing behind her, Natalie reached out and played with her soft hair, clearly trying to figure out which style would look best on her.

"Because you skipped yesterday and pissed off our dear investor daddy, that's why. So now we need to dress you up nice and pretty. If Second Young Master Dalton sees you looking good, maybe he'll cool off a bit. At tonight's dinner, be sweeter with your words and drink a couple more toasts. Old Feng already said it—we can only win this one. Failure isn't an option."

Claire still looked doubtful. "You're sure the investor is Brendan Dalton?"

Natalie's tone was firm. "Of course. I've already met Mr. Dalton twice."

She pulled up a photo on her phone and handed it to Claire. "Here. This is Brendan Dalton, the second son of the Dalton family, and the actual one in power at Dalton Group right now. Pretty handsome, right?"

Claire glanced at it. Once she confirmed it wasn't Ethan Mercer, the doubt in her heart eased a little more.

But she still couldn't fully relax, so she asked again, "There's no one else besides Brendan Dalton, right?"

Natalie found her a little strange today and frowned. "Otherwise what? Who exactly do you think would be there?"