In her previous life, not only was there a restraining order, but Mitchel Johnson had also installed a tracking device in her phone. When she went out, there were always bodyguards assigned to her, with Mr. Ford following her closely, never allowing her to be alone.

Back then, all of Mitchel Johnson’s precautions and surveillance felt like imprisonment to her. She saw the villa as a prison, restraining her from freedom.

The tighter he watched, the more she wanted to escape.

It would take a long time for her to earn Mitchel Johnson’s full trust, but she was determined to try.

Raegan smiled gently and asked Mr. Ford, "Since I'm not allowed to go out, could you help me sell these things?"

Mr. Ford had never been treated so politely by Raegan before. In the past, she would either make things difficult for the staff or boss them around. Now, though he felt that selling these items might not be appropriate, he thought it was better than having her create troubles. Besides, Mr. Johnson wouldn’t care about these items anyway.

---

That evening, when Mitchel Johnson returned home, his black Maybach made a turn at the gate but didn’t head directly to the garage. Instead, it stopped.

He stepped out with his spotless black leather shoes, and his cold gaze swept over the garden.

In the past, coming home felt like walking into a funeral or descending into hell. But today, the villa was different—there was no stench of maggots in the garden, replaced by the fragrant scent of roses. The birds chirped melodiously, and the hanging ghost dolls were gone from the swing set. The white swing swayed gently in the evening breeze…

"Did she really think she could leave me so easily?" He thought.

In the dining room, Raegan had been waiting for Mitchel to return so they could have dinner together. She had specifically arranged a candlelight dinner, but Mitchel Johnson seemed to be in a foul mood.

Even sitting at opposite ends of the table, Raegan could feel the coldness emanating from him. His icy gaze remained fixed on her face.

Raegan had only applied a light makeup, wanting to appear fresh and appealing. But judging by the cold intensity of his stare, she wondered if he preferred her with heavy makeup.

Could it be that he preferred more dramatic looks?

Raegan looked at him warily, wearing a deep blue shirt, he deftly and elegantly unfastened his cuffs.

When he rolled up his sleeves, revealing a glimpse of his wrist, the diamond-studded watch on it caught the glow of the candlelight, adding a gleam to his perfectly chiseled face, which was now unreadable.

Despite of his overwhelming presence, Raegan steeled herself and addressed Mrs. Hughes:

"Mrs. Hughes, please move Mr. Johnson’s belongings back to the master bedroom later."

Raegan had previously demanded separate bedrooms in order to press for a divorce. After a year of marriage, they had never slept in the same bed. She slept in the master bedroom and Mitchel in the guest room.

Now that she was committed to mending their relationship, the first step was to eliminate the distance between them. They had already been separate during the day due to work, she couldn’t endure separation at night any more.

Mrs. Hughes was delighted by this change and promptly agreed, "Yes, ma'am."

"Wait," Mitchel Johnson's gaze locked onto Raegan, his voice cool and probing, "What’s your motive?"

Mitchel's tone was calm and measured, with an underlying hint of skepticism.

Raegan’s cheeks flushed slightly as she explained, "We’re married. Isn’t it normal for us to sleep together?"

"It was your idea to have separate rooms in the first place", Mitchel reminded her blandly.

"And now, I'm asking you to return to the master bedroom."

Raegan knew he didn’t trust her intentions, but she had already laid it out clearly. Why couldn’t he just cooperate a little? Did he really want to push her into using drastic measures?

Turning to Mrs. Hughes, Raegan spoke in a way befitting a mistress of the home, "Mrs. Hughes, did you not hear my instruction?"

In this household, Raegan had always been the one in control—everyone listened to her, except for Mitchel Johnson. So using her authority now didn’t faze her at all.

Eager to see the couple happy, Mrs. Hughes quickly responded, "Yes, ma'am, I’ll take care of it immediately."

Mitchel's deep, dark eyes lingered on Raegan’s face, as if trying to see through her, "Why are you doing this?"

Raegan calmly cut a piece of steak, taking her time to chew before replying, "I already told you—we’re a couple. We should sleep together."

Mitchel's lips curled slightly, his gaze as cold as ever, "Do you know what happens when a couple sleep together?"

His words were soft, almost teasing, yet they carried a chill, devoid of any warmth.

Raegan nearly choked on his bluntness. Was it really necessary to be so straightforward?

What else could a married couple do in bed…?

"I...I know… We’re husband… and wife. It’s… normal, right?" Though she stammered, Raegan forced herself to say it.

Knowing was one thing, but having such a frank discussion was mortifying. Raegan couldn’t help the blush creeping up her face.

She glanced at him again, trying to gauge his reaction. His expression remained indifferent, with his deep eyes unreadable.

Quickly losing her appetite, Raegan put down her utensils, "I’m done. I’m going upstairs to take a bath. That… silk nightgown you bought me… I… really like it. Take your time with dinner… I’ll… be waiting."

It was the first time in two lifetimes that Raegan had ever tried to seduce a man, and her heart pounded in her chest.

It was embarrassing, but if she wanted him to believe she was serious about building a life together with him, she had to be bold.

They say love is like a war and happiness is something you have to fight for. Raegan hoped this was true.

As she hurried up the stairs, Mitchel Johnson’s eyes darkened. Though her figure wasn’t voluptuous, her proportion was perfect.

She wore a simple white chiffon blouse tucked into a short skirt that accentuated her waistline. His gaze drifted down to where the plaid skirt hugged her slender legs…

That place… Yesterday, he had been just a bit more forceful and could have breached her defenses.

The feeling of that moment seemed to linger in his body, stirring a familiar yet unwanted sensation.

Her earlier shy but bold invitation echoed in his mind, and Mitchel realized his body was already under the control of desire.

Feeling frustrated, Mitchel tried to focus on his meal, but all he could see was her in that sheer nightgown, the image tantalizing him to the point of distraction.

His obsidian eyes darkened with a mix of emotions, a flush of irritation and desire running through him.

With a growl of frustration, he yanked off his tie, pushing the chair back abruptly as he stood up.