The suffocating silence stretched out, every passing second dripping with agonizing tension.

Slowly, deliberately, Lemira slid her hands free. "I'm sorry. I can't do that."

"Why not? What else do you need? I'll give you anything you want. I'll tear the Sinclair family apart myself!"

Lemira met her frantic gaze. "Aunt Amelia was your closest friend for decades. Do you honestly have it in you to destroy her?"

A flicker of raw, painful conflict crossed Amanda's eyes. "If you promise to stay with Orion, I will burn her to the ground."

"I don't need you to fight my battles. We have the paper trail. We have the witnesses. She'll face the music on her own."

Lemira looked at the trembling woman. "Focus on your treatment. Mr. Alfred is the best in the business. Even if you're convicted of obstruction, he'll ensure it's a suspended sentence given your medical history."

Amanda had been completely manipulated. With a powerhouse lawyer like Mr. Alfred handling her defense, she was practically guaranteed leniency.

"Lemira... I am so, so sorry."

Tears streamed freely down Amanda's pale face. "I know my motives were entirely selfish, but I've wanted to apologize to you properly for years."

Lemira gave her one last, emotionless look. "You owed me that much."

Pushing the door open, she stepped out into the freezing wind, the sharp chill instantly clearing the heavy fog in her mind.

Looking at the stark, barren branches of the winter trees, she felt a profound sense of desolation.

She had always vastly preferred the summer. The heat was oppressive, but at least it felt alive.

In her past life, winter had been an absolute nightmare. Locked away in that psychiatric ward, her abusers had deliberately cut the heating, leaving her shivering with agonizing frostbite that cracked and bled.

The sheer despair she felt in those moments was unimaginable.

Unconsciously, she rubbed the back of her hand—the exact spot where the worst of the frostbite had always blistered.

In this life, her skin remained perfectly smooth.

This time, she wasn't the one who was going to break.

She climbed into her massive Standard SUV and drove off. The sight of a young, stunning woman maneuvering such an aggressive vehicle was striking, yet it suited her perfectly.

Arriving at the Maple Group skyscraper, she pulled into the underground garage.

Staring up at the towering glass facade, a wave of surreal gratitude washed over her. In her past life, everything she had built had been ruthlessly stolen. But here, with the backing of the Maple Group, her tech had finally seen the light of day.

Even if it stung, she knew she owed Orion a massive debt for making that possible.

Striding into the lobby, she forcefully compartmentalized the emotional wreckage of her personal life. She was here to work.

In this world, you couldn't exact revenge or rebuild your life without absolute financial independence.

Retaining a titan like Mr. Alfred had practically drained her entire bank account.

But if the launch of the Maple Group Gen-2 Al Prosthetics hit its target metrics, her royalty checks were going to be astronomical.

If the company successfully went public, she would have enough wealth to rival any legacy family.

It wouldn't put her on Orion's level of sickening billionaire wealth, but it was more

than enough to secure her freedom forever.

For the next several hours, she

buried herself in software

schematics and beta-tester

feedback with her engineering team,

completely losing track of time.

As evening rolled around, the department agreed to head out for celebratory drinks.

But the moment Lemira stepped out of the conference room with her colleagues,

she froze. A painfully familiar silhouette was standing in the corridor.

Orion was deep in conversation with Thaddeus Draven, reviewing a tablet.

What caught everyone's attention, however, was his face. His striking jawline was marred by a heavy dark bruise, and his nose was firmly set in a medical splint.

An instant, suffocating tension flooded the hallway.

Coming face-to-face with him again, Lemira forced her expression into an impassive mask.

She vividly remembered throwing the punch, fueled by pure, unadulterated rage, but she hadn't paid attention to where it landed.

She just knew she had aimed directly for his irritatingly perfect face.

It looked like she had done serious damage. Did she actually break his nose?

Her eyes darted away instantly. Was he here to exact some kind of billionaire vengeance on her?

She wasn't terrified. He was the one who practically tried to kidnap her in the first place.