The beauty in the room slowly faded as the clock ticked toward midnight.

Alexander rose from the bed, his movements smooth and deliberate. Without a glance at the light switch, he walked straight into the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, Emily emerged, not in a bathrobe, but with a simple white towel wrapped loosely around her waist.

He was standing by the window as usual, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. The glow from the end of the cigarette illuminated his sharp profile, casting deep shadows over his face. His eyes—dark and mysterious—stared into the night.

With each flick of his slender fingers, the ashes fell from the cigarette, his posture almost statuesque, as if he were carved from marble.

No one could ever guess what was going through his mind. Not even Emily, lying in the bed behind him.

She peeked out from under the covers, her face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and curiosity. She couldn't help but gaze at him—the moonlight filtering through the window illuminated his chiseled form, every inch of his muscular body visible. His well-defined abs were so tempting that even she couldn't help but feel a sudden rush of heat.

This man—this stranger—was her husband.

Well, no. He was her brother-in-law, technically. She had married him in place of her twin sister, Luo Aiqin.

For two years, no one had noticed that she had gradually shifted her feelings toward him, from brother-in-law to something far more complicated.

"Cough, cough, cough."

The strong scent of smoke filled the air, and Emily coughed, her chest tightening. She quickly pulled the covers over her head, her heart racing. She hoped he wouldn't approach her. After all, she had feigned sleep so he'd leave her alone.

But he didn't.

Alexander turned his head, his eyes dark and unreadable, meeting hers for a brief moment.

A cloud of smoke swirled around him, drifting upward, shrouding his face. He flicked the half-smoked cigarette into the ashtray with a practiced motion, then grabbed a black bathrobe from the back of the sofa and left the room.

Emily sat up in bed, her breath still uneven, and glanced around. The room was silent.

Had he really left?

Unable to believe it, she switched on the bedside lamp. The room was empty.

He really was gone.

She bit her lip, confusion flooding her. Over the past two years, he had only touched her after drinking, and every time, he would go into the bathroom for a long, drawn-out bath. Afterward, he would leave the bedroom and sleep in the study lounge. She didn't understand why, but she didn't dare ask.

The morning light barely filtered through the curtains.

Emily was already awake and preparing breakfast.

Ever since she had married into the Lu family in place of her sister, her mother-in-law had fired all the servants, leaving only a housekeeper who didn't actually do any work. Emily was now responsible for all the chores in the massive estate, which left her exhausted every day. And at night, she still had to attend to Alexander's needs, leaving her with no energy to focus on herself.

By 7:30 a.m., the entire Lu family was up. Emily, however, had been awake for hours. The dining room was filled with the smell of a breakfast she had carefully prepared.

"Luo Aiqun, where is the dress I asked you to iron?" Lu Qianqian rushed into the room, her voice laced with irritation.

Emily calmly set the knives and forks in place. "Sorry, Qianqian, I was just too tired last night. I—"

"Enough!" Lu Qianqian cut her off, her eyes sharp with disbelief. "Don't make excuses! What do you mean you're tired? You're just sitting around all day. Are you hauling bricks or driving a cart? You're not even working outside. Why are you acting like you're exhausted? You've been doing nothing but slacking off!"

Emily lowered her head, her heart sinking. She wanted to explain that it wasn't laziness—that she was physically drained from managing everything. But Lu Qianqian wasn't listening.

"I need that dress done tonight, no excuses. Or you'll regret it," Lu Qianqian snapped before storming off.

Emily stared at her hands, now clenched tightly around the knife and fork.

It was winter now, and the dress she was supposed to iron was thick, made of heavy fabric. There was no way she could finish it in one day. But Lu Qianqian didn't care.

Before she could even process her frustration, her mother-in-law entered the room, her presence cold and commanding.

"Are you done with breakfast?" Her voice was sharp, cutting through the silence. "Do you not notice the snow in the garden? It's piled up, and you haven't cleaned it for three days. You've been slacking off again."

Emily quickly put down her utensils and nodded, hurrying out of the dining room. She didn't want to risk another scolding from her mother-in-law.

As she stepped into the hall, she collided with Alexander, who was coming downstairs.

They locked eyes for a moment, but neither said a word.

In the past two years, he had spoken less than a hundred words to her—perhaps even less than fifty. He was always silent, as though her existence didn't matter.

As she stared at his face—so perfectly sculpted by nature—memories from their first meeting five years ago rushed back. His cold, aloof demeanor and those deep, unreadable eyes had drawn her to him from the start.

"Is something wrong?" Alexander's voice, though quiet, was still enough to break the silence.

Emily was momentarily stunned. He had never spoken to her like this before. Was something different today?

"Hmm?" Alexander's gaze softened slightly, waiting for her response.

She didn't know how to answer. Instead, she stepped closer, lifting her hands.

He flinched, leaning back slightly—an unconscious move.

She didn't care, standing on tiptoe to adjust his tie, which was slightly askew.

He was so tall, towering over her at nearly 6'3", while she was barely 5'3".

"Your tie is crooked," she muttered awkwardly.

She tried to fix it, but even on tiptoe, she couldn't quite reach it.

He glanced down, noticing the mistake. Without a word, he straightened the tie himself, then turned and walked toward the dining room.

No thanks. Not a single word of gratitude.

Emily sighed, but she didn't let it bother her. Instead, she made her way outside to shovel the snow.

It was mid-November, and winter in the capital was biting cold.

Her face stung from the chill, but she continued to work, her breath clouding in the frosty air.

Alexander, wrapped in a mink coat, stepped outside and watched her from a distance.

Emily was struggling to shovel the snow, her face flushed from the cold. She looked exhausted, her small frame barely able to handle the task.

Then, she lost her balance and fell face-first into the snow.

The sight was ridiculous, but he remained impassive, his expression unchanged.

Time seemed to stretch on, and he realized he had been standing there watching her for far too long.

Uncomfortable, he turned and headed toward the garage, his jaw tight and his lips pressed into a thin line.