Yvette's POV
The night was quiet, but my mind wasn't.
I sat by the large window in my penthouse suite, city lights twinkling below like stars that fell but never reached the earth. My fingers wrapped around the edge of a wine glass, half full, barely touched. The silence was maddening. It's been months since the divorce... since Owen left without a word.
He signed the papers.
He walked away.
No confrontation. No plea. Not even the petty bitterness I expected. Just silence.
And that silence... it's louder than any scream.
"Where the hell are you, Owen?" I whispered under my breath, not expecting an answer—only the echo of my own guilt chasing itself around the room.
He wasn't supposed to do that.
He was supposed to fight . To throw those papers in my face and call out for everything. For every cold look, every backhanded comnt, every ti I made him feel like he didn't belong in my world.
But he didn't.
Instead... he disappeared.
And now? He's a ghost I can't chase.
I've had Oliver, my assistant, dig through every source—private detectives, travel logs, even facial recognition—but nothing solid. Only rumors. A man who looks like him spotted in bars, walking near his mother's grave, passing through places I wouldn't imagine he'd ever visit.
But they all say the sa thing—he's not the sa man anymore.
Sothing's... different.
"He's colder," Oliver had said. "More silent than usual. Doesn't talk to anyone. Keeps to himself. Like soone who's hiding from the world... or hiding who they really are."
Not the sa Owen Yates I married.
And definitely not the sa man I divorced.
I looked down at my reflection in the wine. My expression was composed—calm, collected—but inside, there was chaos. I used to pride myself on being unreadable, but lately, I've been reading myself more than anyone else.
Why does it bother ?
Why does his distance hurt when I was the one who pushed him away?
I had my reasons. Logical, asured, reasonable. Our marriage was a business decision. A contract. Sothing clean. Neat. I never asked for love. Never needed it. And yet... I never once broke my vow.
Not even when Randall—my so-called Prince Charming—stood right in front of .
Not even when he told I was wasting my ti with Owen.
Because I chose Owen. Even if I never said it, even if I never showed it... I stayed loyal.
I kept my word.
So why did he walk away first?
He was supposed to chase . To cling. To prove he still cared.
But instead, he vanished like I ant nothing.
And now, when I think of him—when I think of that distant look in his eyes, the sharpness that wasn't there before, the strength I used to mock—it makes my chest ache in a way I hate.
Did I break sothing in him?
Or did I just fail to see what was already there?
And now that I do see it—now that I'm chasing the shadow of a man who used to wait on my every word—I realize sothing terrifying.
He's no longer waiting.
He's moving on.
And I'm the one left behind... wondering what I lost.
"Owen..." I whispered again, softer this ti. "Even if you don't want to see again... I'll still find you."
Not to beg.
Not to apologize.
But just to know—who are you now?
Because whoever this man is walking in your skin...
He's not the sa Owen Yates I thought I knew.
And for the first ti... I'm not sure if that's a good thing.
Or the scariest thing of all.
________________________________________
Owen's POV
The wind brushed against my face as I stood at the edge of the rooftop, gazing down at the sleepless Shanghai skyline. Neon lights flickered below, traffic moved like veins pumping life into the city, but my mind was elsewhere.
Where do I begin?
The past was a tangled ss of betrayal, false masks, and hidden motives. I wasn't the original Owen Yates—but I bore his na, his pain, and now, his unfinished battles. His mories didn't scream in my head, but they lingered in pieces—small, sharp fragnts of emotions he left behind. Regret. Anger. A deep yearning for justice.
I pulled out the small notebook I kept in my jacket pocket—filled with nas, scribbled notes, pieces of information the system hadn't processed yet. The first na I underlined: William Yates.
That bastard.
Owen's biological father. A man who used love as bait and built an empire off the backs of those who truly cared. He used Owen's mother—drained her of every cent, every dream—and then discarded her like she was nothing.
Now he walked freely, wealthy, respected by high society.
But not for long.
"I'll deal with him," I muttered, flipping the page. "But not yet."
William was connected to too many people—politicians, investors, dia. Touching him recklessly would bring unnecessary attention. I needed leverage. Sothing that would tear his empire down from within.
I turned the page and wrote a single word: Andrew.
William's other son. The golden boy. Born from his second wife, Lexi. The very woman who manipulated her way into Owen's mother's place and helped sweep everything under the rug.
From what I rembered, Andrew wasn't as clean as he pretended. In the second life, he betrayed William once the empire cracked. Greed always left a trail.
He's the weak link.
If I could get close to him, dig into his dealings, I could find a thread to unravel the whole damn family.
But there was another complication...
Yvette.
Her na lingered in my mind longer than I wanted.
Despite everything—her coldness, her sharp tongue, the walls she built—I couldn't deny her loyalty. Even in silence, she never broke the vows. While Abigail Bardot sold herself for attention, and Katerina Maa used her marriage as a ga of dominance, Yvette Jennings... stayed true.
To her ideals.
To the life she thought she was building.
Not to Owen, maybe—but definitely to the idea of commitnt.
And now she was searching for . I felt it in the air. Her presence lood like a storm that hadn't broken yet.
She can't know who I really am.
Not yet. Not until I finish what I ca here to do.
I closed the notebook and tucked it back into my coat. The next step was clear.
Step 1: Investigate Andrew's shell companies.
Step 2: Locate Lexi's hidden assets.
Step 3: Break William's foundation from the inside.
And if Yvette shows up along the way?
...I'll deal with her when the ti cos.
Right now, I need to be smart.
Calculating.
Relentless.
I am not the Owen Yates the world rembers.
I'm the one who finishes what others leave behind.
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