Chapter 1

When it's almost time to get off work, Mason Lakeworth's coworkers drag him over to the window and point excitedly at a gorgeous woman downstairs. She's shown up outside their newspaper's building at exactly the same time for seven days in a row.

"I did some digging! That's Lindsay Statham, the heiress of Heronvale's richest family. No wonder she drives a supercar with a custom vanity plate!"

"And she looks good, too… Too bad she was set up and forced into getting married at a young age five years ago. I wonder which guy hit the jackpot and landed a woman like that."

"But seriously, she's been coming to our crappy building for a full week. What is she even here for? Mason, you're always the last to leave. Have you seen who she's waiting for?"

Mason stands off to the side in silence, saying nothing for a long time. His coworkers don't really expect him to answer anyway. They all start talking over each other, throwing out ideas.

"Wait, Mason—you've been desperate for cash lately, right? Here's your golden ticket. Our new finance column is still short on a star interview. If you can land an exclusive with Lindsay Statham, the boss will definitely give you a huge bonus. You won't have to worry about your son's medical bills anymore!"

Mason still doesn't respond. After a while, he withdraws his gaze from the window and finally speaks, his voice so calm it's almost numb. "My son died two weeks ago."

He pauses, then adds, "And Lindsay… is my wife—the one I've been secretly married to for the past five years and the woman you're all so curious about."

Chapter 1

Everyone in the newsroom went dead quiet at those two short sentences and stared at each other in shock.

For years, they'd only ever known Mason Lakeworth as a single dad. He worked late every night to pay for his kid's medical bills and lived so frugally it felt like he could stretch a penny into two.

Who would've imagined that a guy that ordinary and that unfortunate had anything to do with Lindsay Statham, much less that the two of them were actually married?

After a silence that lasted for what felt like forever, someone said in a low voice, "So, you're the guy from five years ago who—"

Before he could finish, another coworker yanked on his sleeve, shooting him a warning look to shut up.

Mason didn't say anything else. He slid the overseas assignment form he'd just gotten that afternoon into his bag. Then, for the first time, he clocked out early.

As soon as he got downstairs, he saw Lindsay across the street, leaning against her car as she watched him with those clear, distant eyes. Under the streetlamp, her shadow stretched long across the sidewalk.

In the hazy glow of moonlight, Mason's mind drifted back to that spring night five years ago.

He'd been a journalism major about to graduate when he unexpectedly received an invitation to a high-profile gala. He'd thought it was his big break—a chance to interview some important people and maybe get his foot in the door.

But he'd only had one drink before passing out and waking up in Lindsay's bed. She'd been asleep by his side, her body covered in bite marks.

After that, a rumor had quietly spread through the city's media circles—a social-climbing nobody had allegedly drugged Lindsay the night before her wedding. The next day, her fiance had walked in on them in bed together, and the whole thing had blown up into a massive scandal.

The story went that this nobody had then used Lindsay's ruined reputation to force her into marrying him.

But the truth was the total opposite.

Back then, Mason had known that he could never go up against the Statham family, much less covet Lindsay and set her up like that. He'd fled in disgrace and planned to leave Heronvale after graduation so he could start over somewhere far away.

He never imagined that Lindsay would find out three months down the road that she was pregnant with his child.

Somehow, word of that got to Lindsay's grandfather, George Statham. Wanting to keep an heir in the Statham family and protect their spotless reputation, George had used every bit of his influence to strong-arm Mason and Lindsay into getting married.

In the face of that sort of power, Mason hadn't even had the right to fight back. He'd tried explaining, tried pushing back, and insisted over and over that he had no idea what had happened that night. All he'd ever gotten in return was Lindsay's disgust and icy indifference.

She'd refused to have a wedding with him or even make their marriage public. After giving birth, she'd dumped their son, Landon, into Mason's arms like he was trash. From then on, she hadn't spared either of them so much as a second glance.

The day Landon was diagnosed with bone marrow cancer, Lindsay had only looked at Mason and said flatly, "This is karma."

At the time, George was gravely ill and no longer involved in family affairs. Lindsay had downright refused to offer Landon any help at all.

With nowhere else to turn, Mason had gritted his teeth and somehow fought his way through the hardest five years of his life.

Then, two weeks ago, Landon's condition had suddenly taken a turn for the worse.

Mason had spent an entire night on his knees in a torrential downpour, begging Lindsay, as Landon's biological mother, to donate her bone marrow.

But Lindsay hadn't even bothered to listen. She'd just sent people to stop him from getting past the gates. In the end, all he'd gotten was a call from the hospital telling him Landon hadn't pulled through.

That was the moment Mason had finally broken. He'd coughed up a mouthful of blood and collapsed right there in the rain.

Delirious and drifting in and out of consciousness, Mason had vaguely seen members of the Gardner family—specifically, the parents of Lindsay's fiance, Harry Gardner—enter his hospital room.

Harry's mother, Helen Brown, had clearly been crying. Choking back tears, she'd said to her husband, Stuart Gardner, "If we'd known things would turn out like this, we should've brought Mason home from the very beginning. At least he could've come to us for help when Landon was so gravely ill!"

From their conversation, Mason had finally learned the truth. It turned out the invitation to the gala and that absurd night had been orchestrated by the Gardners.

He was actually the Gardner family's long-lost son. After he went missing, his parents had adopted Harry, who was his age.

Helen and Stuart had actually tracked Mason down in his senior year of college, but they hadn't dared to claim him. It turned out Harry had a serious congenital heart disease. When he was younger, someone had once said that he didn't look like his parents. That had sent him into a full-blown episode that nearly killed him.

By then, Helen and Stuart had long since come to see Harry as their own son. They could risk doing anything that might endanger him.

After much deliberation, they'd decided to arrange for Lindsay to marry Mason. The Gardners and Stathams had been close for generations, and the marriage had been agreed upon even before Lindsay and Mason were born.

If the plan worked, Mason would be close enough for the Gardners to watch over him, while also gaining a stable and privileged life instead of continuing to wander with no home of his own.

Helen and Stuart hadn't been oblivious to how much Mason had suffered in his marriage to Lindsay, but they'd been terrified that stepping in would expose what they'd done back then.

They'd never imagined… that things would end with one person dead and another lying in a hospital bed.

Lindsay had been in the hospital room when the truth had come out. Her nails had dug into her palms as she'd listened, and her eyes had widened with disbelief.

But once the shock faded, she hadn't lashed out or exploded. Instead, she'd forced herself to stay calm and said hoarsely to Helen and Stuart, "If you've decided to keep this from Harry, then make sure you take this secret to the grave.

"He's already in poor health. He can't take another hit. I'm sorry about what happened to Landon. From now on… I'll treat Mason the way he deserves. You don't have to visit him again, and you absolutely cannot let him know he's your son. Let this secret die with us."

Her love and concern for Harry had been unmistakable. In a shadowed corner of the room where no one noticed him, Mason had closed his eyes with a bitter smile, allowing a single tear to slip from the corner of his eye.

When he opened his eyes again, Lindsay had been sitting beside his hospital bed. Her eyes had been bloodshot from keeping watch over him all night.

"You're awake?" For the first time, she'd really looked at him. And for the first time, she'd spoken to him with complete seriousness. "I know I haven't been good to you all these years. But starting today, I'll learn how to be the kind of wife you deserve."

Chapter 2

From that day on, Lindsay actually started acting like a proper wife. She stayed by Mason's bedside every single day, bringing him food and water, taking his temperature, and fetching his meds.

Even when he repeatedly brought up divorce and told her to keep her distance, she pretended not to understand a word of it. For an entire week, she waited outside the newspaper office every evening to pick him up from work.

In the past, getting the proud, high-and-mighty Lindsay Statham to stand out in the freezing wind for several hours just to pick him up from work was something Mason wouldn't even dare dream about.

But now, it was really happening, though only as compensation—a way to make up for the identity that Harry had stolen from him.

Looking at Lindsay standing just a few steps away from the newspaper office's entrance, Mason did exactly what he'd done the last few days—he ignored her and walked straight past her.

He'd only taken a few steps toward the bus stop when a slender arm shot out in front of him and stopped him. Lindsay frowned slightly and said, "The bus here only comes once an hour. By the time you get on and then transfer, it'll take you two hours to get home. What's so bad about me giving you a ride?"

Mason checked the time on his phone, then asked flatly, "Are you sure you don't have anything more important to do right now?"

Setting aside the first few days, he honestly hadn't expected her to show up again on this day. After all, this was the day Harry flew back. He'd made it very clear that he wanted Lindsay to pick him up, and he'd made such a big deal out of it that even Mason knew which flight it was.

Lindsay didn't even hesitate at his question. She said, "I told you I'd take our marriage seriously. I'm not gonna get involved with anyone else."

Mason curled his lips.

Ever since Harry had left the country five years ago, Lindsay had spent almost half her time overseas. Her bookshelf was crammed with hundreds of boarding passes, and every last one flew straight to Lumiere, where Harry was.

For feelings that deep to be tossed aside just for Mason—a man she'd never even spared a glance at before—was something anyone would find laughable.

"Stop with this tantrum." Lindsay didn't want to waste any more time arguing on the sidewalk. "It's still early. I booked us a table at a restaurant so we can go on a date. As long as you play along, I'll do what you asked and… go visit Landon's grave."

For the first time, something flickered across Mason's face. Ever since Landon was born, the number of times Lindsay had actually met with him could be counted on one hand.

Other kids grew up smothered in affection, cradled in their mothers' arms, and showered with love. Landon could only hide behind a wall, peeking at Lindsay from a distance before running off.

Why? Because Lindsay had laid down the rule that whenever she was home, neither Mason nor Landon was allowed to show their faces in front of her. Seeing them annoyed her.

No matter how broken things were between Mason and Lindsay, Landon… would still want to see his mother, wouldn't he?

…

Nearly every sales associate in a luxury boutique at a mall snuck curious, envious glances at Mason. They all wondered how a man dressed so plainly, with nothing to his name, could be accompanied by such an effortlessly elegant woman. On top of that, she didn't even bat an eye when swiping her black card for his clothes.

If this had been in the past, getting such treatment would've left Mason stunned and secretly delighted. He would've been willing to swallow his pride and play along for Landon's sake.

Now, all he felt was how wrong it all was. This so-called date he and Lindsay were on only felt awkward. He was miserable, and from the look on her face, she wasn't exactly having a great time, either.

Even after they were seated in an upscale steakhouse, with Lindsay expertly pointing out dishes on the menu and discussing them with the waiter, all Mason could think about was when this would finally be over.

Just then, a man in a casual suit strode straight toward their table.

Before Mason could even look up, the man grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back. Then, he snatched up the red wine from the table and dumped it over his head.

Chapter 3

That didn't seem to be enough for the man. He yanked Mason up by his hair and forced him to his feet, drawing back his fist. But before he could swing…

"Harry, let go!"

Lindsay shot to her feet and pulled Mason behind her. Then, she dug around in her bag for some tissues, shoving them into his hand.

Mason wiped his face in a daze, red wine dripping everywhere. Some had splashed into his eyes. It burned like hell, but he forced himself to look up. As expected, the arrogant twat in front of him was Harry.

"What are you looking at?" Harry snapped. "Everyone knew I was flying back today, and I specifically told Lindsay to pick me up. You dragging her off right before I land is basically you picking a fight with me. I'm already letting you off easy by just dumping wine on you!"

Lindsay turned and grabbed his arm, frowning. "That's enough. This has nothing to do with him."

Harry was about to explode. "What do you mean, it has nothing to do with him? He's just throwing his weight around because his kid—"

"I said, that's enough!" Lindsay snapped, cutting him off so he couldn't say that Landon had died.

He froze in shock. "Did you just yell at me for him?"

He stared at her, totally blindsided.

Lindsay forced herself to calm down and kept her voice as soft as possible as she said, "Look, if you're upset about anything, take it up with me. There's no need to make a scene like this."

Only then did she seem to finally remember Mason was still there. She turned to look at him and said, "You should head home. I'll deal with this."

But Mason didn't budge. He glanced at Harry and said evenly to Lindsay, "He hasn't apologized to me yet."

Harry's head snapped up, the anger he'd just barely tamped down roaring back to life. "Who the hell do you think you are? You think I'm actually gonna—ah!"

Mason flung the rest of the red wine straight into Harry's face, exactly the way Harry had done to him. There was nothing left in the bottle.

He hadn't even pulled his hand back when Lindsay grabbed his wrist in a vice grip. "What do you think you're doing?"

Her eyes were razor-sharp as they honed in on him. It was nothing like how she'd reacted when Harry had ambushed him earlier. This time, she was genuinely furious.

Of course. The second Harry was involved, the warm disguise she'd donned for the past few days vanished as if it had never existed.

Mason met her gaze head-on. "What? Are you gonna get back at me for his sake, or are you planning to hit me?"

He sounded calm and detached, like none of this really mattered. But inside his sleeve, his fist was clenched so tight his knuckles ached.

Memories crashed over him. The day George had forced him to return to Statham Manor, Harry had stormed into the villa and slashed his face with a knife. He'd been taken to the hospital afterward and gotten the scar removed, but the area still throbbed every time it rained.

He also remembered a time when he'd been in an accident and hadn't fully recovered. Harry had shoved his head into a sink full of water and icily watched him flail, keeping him there until his ribs had snapped again. He'd had to be rushed into emergency surgery. Later, he'd almost died on the operating table from an infection.

Back then, Mason had never dared to fight back, nor could he. All he'd wanted was to stay alive and raise Landon.

But now, he knew the truth. His own parents didn't want him up and had set him up, and Lindsay was pretending to be nice to him despite hating him—all because of Harry.

He'd never actually done anything wrong. He didn't owe any of them a damn thing. And now, the only person he truly loved—Landon—was dead.

What else was there for him to be afraid of?

Mason stood there and held Lindsay's gaze, a faint, mocking smile curving his lips.

In the end, she let go of his wrist, her eyes turning frosty. "Just go."

As Mason turned and walked away, Harry's furious shouting echoed from behind him, but that was Lindsay's mess now. It had nothing to do with him anymore.

He went downstairs, walked out to the street, and hailed a cab straight to Statham Manor.

An hour later, the butler had barely led Mason into the living room when a teacup came flying at his head.

"You're useless! You couldn't even keep a child alive. What use are you to anyone?" George roared.

Mason jerked his head aside just in time. The cup shattered against the wall; a shard sliced open the skin at his temple. He didn't bother explaining anything to a furious George.

Of course, he'd tried to reach George when Landon was dying, wanting to beg him to step in and save Landon. But the old man had been recuperating at some private retreat in the mountains, and Mason couldn't reach him. Lindsay had ensured there was no way for them to contact each other long before any of this.

If Mason could figure that out, so could George. This tirade was just George's way of venting his anger. In his eyes, an orphan like Mason was the perfect punching bag.

After a moment of silence, Mason grimaced and said bluntly, "You're right. I am useless. So, let me go. Five years ago, you pulled strings and made my marriage to Lindsay official. Getting us divorced should be even easier for you."

Chapter 4

"You want to leave?" George seemed surprised. Then, he thought about how keeping Mason around would be an eyesore anyway, now that Landon was gone. So, he readily agreed. "Consider it done."

"I'm taking Landon's ashes with me," Mason said.

George shot him a look. "You do realize they've already been placed in the Statham family's memorial hall, right? It's not that easy to take them away."

Mason's voice was low and steady. "I know. According to the family's rules, whoever wants to do that must kneel in the memorial hall for seven days and nights and go without food. I can do that."

George snorted. "Fine, then. If you really can do it, I'll let you take the ashes when you leave."

Just like that, Mason was taken to the Statham family's memorial hall. He dropped to his knees without hesitation as the maids watched.

He stayed like that for seven days and nights. Bruises formed on his knees, and he was weak with hunger. But he stuck it out, only collapsing when the maids told him the seven days were up.

Right before he passed out, he vaguely heard someone kicking the door to the memorial hall open. Whoever that person was helped him up, their hand trembling slightly as it wrapped around his torso.

When Mason opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was Lindsay sitting by his bedside, prominent dark circles under her eyes.

"You're awake." She helped him up and gave him a glass of water. Her gaze carried hints of resignation as she looked at him. "If Grandpa ever punishes you again in the future, have someone send word to me. I'll come to your rescue. Worse comes to worst, I'll take the punishment on your behalf."

Her gaze turned bewildered. "And why didn't you say anything when those maids made things harder for you? They swapped out the cushion you were supposed to kneel on for a hard mat. Don't forget that you're my husband. Couldn't you have thrown your weight around a little?"

Her tone was contemptuous as she mentioned the maids. All Mason did was lower his gaze, his lips curving in a mocking smile.

Throw his weight around?

In all his years living at Statham Manor, Lindsay had forced him to stay in a room meant for the hired help. She'd refused to acknowledge his identity as her husband, and she'd even made him compensate tenfold for a plate that he'd accidentally broken.

Yet now, here she was, talking to him about throwing his weight around. Didn't she think it was too late for that?

Mason had long stopped caring about these things. But when he was discharged from the hospital and taken back to Statham Manor, Lindsay still ordered the butler to gather all the maids around so she could berate them.

"Mason Lakeworth is my husband. From now on, whatever he says represents me, too. I've already fired two of the maids who dared disrespect him, and I don't want to see a repeat of that."

Mason just stood quietly off to one side as he listened and watched. He only found the situation beyond mocking.

Once Lindsay finished reprimanding the maids and they scattered, Mason picked up the medication he'd brought back from the hospital and headed toward the servants' quarters. For five years, he and Landon had shared that remote, cold room in the darkest corner of the house, where sunlight never reached.

Lindsay frowned and followed him. As she looked around the cramped, dark room piled high with random objects, she finally seemed to remember that she was the one who'd casually given the order to make Mason stay there.

"There are plenty of empty rooms upstairs; you can move into any of them whenever you want. I'm sorry. I… I didn't know you were still staying here," she said.

He shook his head. "I'm fine here."

He would soon be gone, anyway. At least this room had memories of his life with Landon.

"If you really do feel sorry, don't forget that you promised to visit Landon's grave tomorrow. It's Remembrance Day." Remembrance Day was a local holiday when the people of Heronvale would pay respects to the dead.

With that, Mason pushed Lindsay out of the room and shut the door.

The following day, Mason left the house bright and early to buy all of Landon's favorite toy cars. He also got a fresh bouquet of sunflowers.

After taking a cab to the graveyard with his hands full of things, he noticed that Lindsay was nowhere in sight. She'd already been out of the house when he'd left that morning.

He curled his lips. He couldn't believe he'd been foolish enough to think that she'd come early to the graveyard.

He pulled out his phone and called her, but no one answered after a few tries. Then, he received a few photos from a number he didn't recognize. They were of Lindsay with her sleeves rolled up as she sliced vegetables in the kitchen. From the reflection on the glass, Mason clearly saw that Harry was the one who'd taken the photos.

"My stomach was acting up, so Lindsay came over first thing in the morning to care for me. And remember the seven days you spent on your knees in the Statham family's memorial hall? She was with me the whole time, too. If you had even the slightest bit of dignity, you'd stop humiliating yourself like this."

Chapter 5

After reading the message, Mason tried to call Lindsay again, but her phone was already turned off. He tucked his phone away and set the things he'd brought down in front of Landon's headstone.

It was Remembrance Day, and the graveyard was crowded. People knelt in front of their loved ones' graves, pouring out their grief. The air was punctuated by quiet sobs.

Mason leaned down and gently brushed the dust from the headstone, forcing a smile. "Landon, I know your biggest wish was for your mother to finally see you and say something to you. I tried, I really did, but I just can't make it happen…

"Let's stop liking your mother from now on, okay? Whatever you want, I'll buy it and bring it to you. It's okay if you don't have your mother's love. I'll give you twice as much to make up for it. I… I really miss you…"

Mason slowly crouched beside the headstone and leaned against it, pouring out all the longing he'd carried for Landon these past few days. In truth, this headstone was merely one that Mason had put up in memory of Landon because he couldn't just waltz into the Statham family's memorial hall whenever he missed him.

A light drizzle began to fall. People who'd come to pay their respects either opened umbrellas or hurried away. Mason, however, sat on the ground as if he didn't feel a thing. He stayed there until he was soaked through, and at some point, he blacked out.

He ran a high fever all night. When he opened his eyes the next day, he found himself lying in a bed at Statham Manor. This room wasn't the cramped one meant for the help, though. He was in a spacious bedroom on the second floor with floor-to-ceiling windows.

He pushed himself up, pressing a hand to his throbbing head. Just then, his phone started ringing. The call was from a coworker at the newspaper.

"Mason, there's trouble. The feature you prepped got scooped—another outlet pushed it out first, and it's blowing up! Is someone targeting you? The editor-in-chief and I checked, and the byline over there is a guy named Harry Gardner.

"He's supposedly some rich kid who studied journalism overseas. Look, if it comes down to it, maybe your wife can pull some strings and help you fight this…"

While the coworker was still talking, Lindsay pushed the door open and walked in. She seemed to already know what was going on. As soon as Mason hung up and started to get out of bed, she placed a hand on his shoulder and stopped him.

"I'm the one who gave your article to Harry," she said.

He faltered. "What?"

"The groundskeeper found you passed out at the cemetery last night. When I went to bring you home, Harry came along. He saw the draft on your laptop and said he wanted to use it."

Mason stared at her in disbelief. "So… You just handed it over?"

Lindsay frowned slightly and nodded. "Harry has just returned to the country and needs to prove himself. It wasn't right for him to take your work, but he's been spoiled since he was a kid, and his heart condition doesn't help.

"Besides, you're the one who did him wrong back then. So… If he took the piece, then he took it. Let it go. I'll make it up to you in other ways."

Mason let out a short, incredulous laugh. Even now—when Lindsay already knew he'd been innocent, that this whole mess was a result of the Gardners setting him up—she was still dragging up the past to guilt-trip him just so she could protect Harry.

All that nonsense about her being reasonable, fair, and principled was utter bullshit. She would easily throw every last principle out the window when the person she truly cared about was involved.

"…Fine, then. How are you planning to make it up to me? Are you gonna threaten me this time, or bribe me?"

Lindsay's gaze darkened with annoyance when she heard the bite in his voice. She yanked open the collar of her blouse, then abruptly wrapped her arms around Mason's neck and leaned in to kiss him.

He jerked back and shoved her away in shock. "What the hell are you doing?"

She staggered back, just as stunned as him. She forced down her temper and frowned at him. "You've been a mess ever since Landon died, so I'll give you another kid. Doesn't that count as making it up to you?"

Mason's nails dug into his palm. His heart hurt so badly that he could almost feel it breaking. He'd already known that Lindsay didn't care about him or Landon, but he hadn't expected Landon's death to be something that meant so little to her.

To her, it was something she could brush aside with the careless offer to give him another child.

In the end, he couldn't keep his emotions in check. He swept everything within reach off the nightstand, sending them crashing to the floor. His eyes reddened as he hissed, "My heart breaks for Landon. He deserved so much better than this."

It was the first time Lindsay had ever seen Mason on the verge of tears.

In her mind, he'd always been a shameless freeloader who used Landon as an excuse to cling to the Statham family. No matter how much she hated or resented him, he'd always forced a smile and begged her to go see Landon. It was as though he'd never learned what it meant to give up or be afraid. But now…

Her chest tightened painfully. She lifted a hand to comfort him, only to stop herself. "I didn't mean anything else by it. I really do want to make things right…"

Chapter 6

Before Lindsay could get any further, her phone started ringing. She pulled it out and saw it was a call from Harry.

A wave of inexplicable irritation surged up inside her. For the first time, she didn't feel like taking the call. The shrill ringtone went on and on, though. She had no choice but to answer.

Harry gasped in pain on the other end of the line. "Lindsay, I twisted my ankle. It really hurts…"

Lindsay's grip on the phone tightened. "Don't panic. Text me the address. I'll come get you right now."

She hung up and started to leave. Then, she stopped, turned back, and pulled a check from her pocket, handing it to Mason.

"Take this as compensation for any damage I caused you and your newspaper. If there's anything else that you're upset about, we'll deal with it when I get back."

Mason glanced at the number on the check—ten million, just to buy one of his articles. She sure was generous.

But that afternoon, he still walked out the door with nothing but a simple duffel bag.

His superiors at the newspaper had taken good care of him over the years. Since he'd promised to do one last piece for them before leaving, he wasn't about to go back on his word.

He'd already set up an interview with Marie White, the director of the orphanage where he'd grown up. He was doing a special feature on the kids' mental health that afternoon.

When he arrived at the orphanage, he unloaded all the supplies he'd brought for the children with the driver's help. Then, he headed in with his arms full of bags and boxes.

The kids spotted him and immediately swarmed over, shouting his name in excitement. It was where he'd grown up, after all, and walking back through the gates felt like coming home.

He handed out notebooks and pens with a smile, while Marie came out and invited him inside.

Right then, a harsh male voice suddenly came from outside the gate, shouting, "Mason Lakeworth!"

Mason turned around and saw Harry charging toward him, fury written all over his face. His stride was strong and steady—there was no trace of the agonizing ankle injury he'd complained about on the phone.

Mason frowned. He had no idea how Harry had tracked him down here, and he definitely didn't want to cause a scene at the orphanage.

But before he could say a word, Harry rushed up and punched him square in the face. The sound of a fist connecting with a face echoed through the courtyard, and everything went silent.

Helen and Stuart hurried in right behind Harry. One grabbed him, telling him not to be reckless, while the other shook out a jacket and draped it over his shoulders as if afraid he might catch a cold.

Only after fussing over him did they finally look at Mason, who'd just been punched.

Marie stepped in front of Mason, looking furious. "Who are you people? How can you just barge in here and attack someone?"

Helen forced a smile and apologized profusely. "I'm so sorry. My son has been spoiled since he was little and doesn't know any better. We do have something urgent to discuss with Mr. Lakeworth, though. We wouldn't have tracked him down here otherwise."

As she spoke, she turned to Mason and bowed her head. "Mr. Lakeworth, allow me to apologize on Harry's behalf. Could we talk somewhere else? This really is about something important."

The commotion and these strangers barging in had already scared a few of the more timid kids. They were huddled by the wall and wiping tears from their eyes.

Mason's jaw was still throbbing from being punched, and he wanted nothing more than to tell them all to get out. However, he couldn't just let them stir up chaos in the orphanage.

He gently patted Marie's hand, giving her a reassuring look. Then, he turned to Helen and said, "I can go with you, but get your crazy son out of here."

Right before getting into the car, Helen finally thought to glance back at the orphanage. Something about the place seemed to get to her, and a flicker of guilt crossed her face.

She suddenly turned to ask Mason, "Did you… grow up in a place like this?"

He faltered for a heartbeat, but he didn't answer. He just got in and slid into the furthest corner of the backseat.

Chapter 7

The car headed straight for the Gardner residence.

This was Mason's first time seeing the place that was supposed to be his home. The villa was every bit as grand and luxurious as Statham Manor. Display shelves were crammed with photos of Harry from childhood to now, along with his trophies and paintings.

Front and center hung a portrait of Harry, Helen, and Stuart. Harry had his arms around both his parents with a wide grin on his face. He looked carefree and absolutely content.

Once they sat down, Harry shot Mason a frosty look and muttered under his breath, "What a cheap trick."

Stuart cleared his throat, pulled up a news article on his laptop, and slid it over to Mason. "Mr. Lakeworth, Harry took the draft of a news article from you some time ago. Now, people have discovered the data in the piece is inaccurate, and he's facing an investigation… Did you leave those errors in there on purpose?"

Mason scrolled through the online comments attacking Harry and felt a bitter sense of karma. That exposé about consumer traps did indeed have some data that wasn't fully backed up. After all, what he'd had at the time was only a rough draft. He hadn't had the chance to fact-check and clean it up before Harry stole it.

Now that public opinion was snowballing, the first one taking all the hits was, of course, Harry—the "official author" whose name was splashed all over the article.

Mason looked up at Stuart and shot back, "Are you trying to bait me into a confession? Do you even know that Harry stole that draft from me without my permission in the first place?"

"Watch your mouth!" Harry instantly flew off the handle and pointed at Mason, wanting to curse him out.

Stuart shut him down with a single look. Then, he turned back to Mason and said evenly, "Mr. Lakeworth, this isn't the time to argue about whether it was theft. At the end of the day, you're the original writer of that piece.

"As far as we know, Lindsay has paid you for it. Now that things have blown up, Harry's the one being thrown under the bus. Don't you think that's a bit unfair?"

Mason read between the lines and frowned.

Meanwhile, Helen finally spoke up. Her tone was pleading as she said, "My dear, I'm begging you. Harry's health has never been great—he can't handle a full-blown investigation and all that harsh scrutiny. If you're willing to take the fall for him, we'll make it worth your while. We'll also pull every string we can so you won't be locked up for long…"

Mason's eyes widened. He stared at Helen and Stuart in disbelief. "…Aren't you afraid I'll hate you for the rest of my life if you do this?"

The finality and the faint tremor in his voice wiped the color from Helen's and Stuart's faces. As they looked at Mason's features, which resembled theirs, the words they'd been about to say became lodged in their throats.

Harry let out a sneer and eyed Mason with open contempt. "Are you out of your mind? They're my parents, and I'll be the one taking care of them when they're old. Why would they care whether you hate them or not? Or are you hinting that your hatred actually means anything? Are you gonna come after our family once this is over?"

At that moment, Lindsay arrived at the Gardner residence, clearly having rushed over. She looked windswept and worn out.

She nodded at Helen and Stuart. "Mr. and Mrs. Gardner, it's all arranged. He only has to be held for questioning for seven days."

Her gaze swept over Mason as she asked bluntly, "Has he agreed?"

Helen was still rattled by Mason's earlier question. Her face was pale as she shook her head.

Lindsay's expression darkened. She walked over to Mason and said evenly, "Take the fall for Harry. I promise this is the last time. Once you're out, I'll do whatever you want."

Her voice was low and rough. This was an order, not a negotiation.

Mason lifted his head and stared straight at her. He thought of that day in the hospital when he'd learned the truth about who he was. She'd said something similar that day and promised to be a good wife from that day on.

Good thing he hadn't believed her. Sure enough, she'd gone back on her word.

"What will you do to me if I refuse?" Mason asked coolly.

The moment the question left his mouth, the looks on Lindsay's and the Gardners' faces turned ugly, just as he'd expected.

He smiled self-deprecatingly. How could he have forgotten that people like them could manipulate things and make them go however they wanted? Even if he refused, they could twist the story and turn it into a version that suited their needs.

They could also use the orphanage to threaten him. If all else failed, they could use Landon as leverage. He was dead, but his grave was still there.

They had countless ways to force him to cave, just like… just like when they'd forced him into marrying Lindsay in the first place.

Mason let out a quiet laugh, then looked back at Lindsay. "You said that if I take the heat for Harry, you'll do whatever I ask, right? I only need one thing from you."

Hearing the steel in his tone, Lindsay's fingers balled into fists without her realizing it. For some reason, she had a feeling that once he voiced this request, there'd be no going back for the two of them.

Even so, she rasped, "What is it? Tell me."

Mason's voice had gone flat, almost numb. "You'll know when it's over."

With that, he turned and got into the car.

Over the next seven days, Mason wasn't just questioned in detention. He was also given some very "special" treatment.

A week later, he staggered out of the detention center and climbed into a black sedan that had been waiting at the gate. The car took him straight to Statham Manor.

There, George handed him Landon's urn, along with a simple duffel containing his documents and a few belongings. In return, Mason gave George a letter, telling him to pass it on to Lindsay.

Once everything was taken care of, Mason slung the bag over his shoulder. He cradled the urn in his arms and walked out of the house, one resolute step after another.

Outside, the sun was blindingly bright. From here on out, his life would never be the same.