The man in the tailored black suit looked sharp, with neatly styled short hair and refined features. The rolled-up sleeves revealed a Patek Philippe watch on his wrist, exuding the aura of a successful professional with every gesture.

Beside him sat Xenia, dressed in a white business suit. Her long, dark hair was styled in big waves cascading behind her, giving her an air of confidence softened by a hint of femininity, especially next to Hendrix.

Opposite them sat a foreign man, likely in his forties or fifties. This wasn't a romantic dinner; they were negotiating business with a client. Yet, the scene still sent a shiver through Lilith.

As she observed them, their gazes turned toward her. Hendrix's narrow eyes momentarily narrowed as he took her in. She wore a lazy burgundy suit, her long hair flowing like seaweed. Her petite face exuded both innocence and allure, two contrasting qualities that surprisingly complemented each other.

He knew she was beautiful but hadn't realized just how stunning she could be. In the two years they’d been together, he’d never taken her to a formal event; he’d mostly seen her in loungewear at home. This version of Lilith left him momentarily stunned.

She must have learned of his whereabouts from Tyler and come here to create a chance encounter. A hint of mockery curled at the corners of his lips; he saw right through her little ploy.

“Mr. Hendrix, do you know her?” the foreign man asked in fluent English, noticing Hendrix's lingering gaze on Lilith.

Hendrix shifted his attention, his tone indifferent. “I don’t know her.”

She sought him out; he wasn’t going to make it easy for her. A chill of coldness enveloped him, striking Lilith’s cheeks. The words "I don’t know her" shattered her heart into pieces.

She bit her lip, forcing herself to stay composed. She was already here; she couldn’t leave now. This restaurant attracted only the wealthy and elite, and if she caused a scene and drew attention from other guests, it could tarnish the restaurant’s reputation.

Clutching her skirt, her fingertips turned white as she took a deep breath and walked toward the piano. They had requested the famous piano piece “Canon,” a song symbolizing a man's appreciation and love for a woman.

Lilith stared at the sheet music for a long time before starting to play. She didn’t know who had ordered this piece, but the foreign man continued to tease, “Mr. Hendrix, with someone like Vice President Larkin by your side, you really hit the jackpot!”

“Indeed, she’s exceptional,” Hendrix replied with a smile, generously praising Xenia.

Xenia responded gracefully, “I wasn’t this impressive when I started; it’s all thanks to Hendrix’s guidance.”

The soft prelude of the piece filled the air, but the pleasant music couldn't drown out their conversation. Lilith knew the piece by heart, so she didn't need to look at the sheet music at all. Her gaze unconsciously drifted to the table where the others sat.

Hendrix leaned toward Xenia, his hand resting on the back of her chair. Xenia occasionally engaged with the foreign man, discussing business matters in fluent English, and would sometimes turn to whisper something to Hendrix.

Lilith didn’t grasp the technical jargon they were using. Hendrix and Xenia communicated seamlessly, sometimes exchanging glances that conveyed everything they needed to express. They handled the foreign man with ease.

Five minutes felt like a century. When the piece ended, Lilith’s fingers stilled, and the lingering notes faded as the chatter around the table grew clearer.

“What a perfect match you two are!” the foreign man remarked, though his deal hadn’t gone well. He praised Hendrix and Xenia endlessly. The compliment made Hendrix's brow furrow slightly. However, since the man wasn't fluent in the local language, he didn’t realize how inappropriate that description was for them. There was no need to explain.

Xenia smiled brightly, “You flatter us, Mr. Mace.”

Lilith’s lips twitched as she averted her gaze from Hendrix. He hadn’t looked at her since that initial glance when she walked in; it was as if he feared that if he looked at her too much, others would know she was his wife and judge him for it.

Though Yara prized this piano and didn’t let just anyone play it, to these wealthy patrons, musicians were merely entertainers, seen as lower-class people who served them.

Lilith should have left, but she found herself frozen, watching Hendrix smoke, reluctant to move. It wasn't until Xenia stood and walked over to her with a wallet in hand that she snapped back to reality.

A thin stack of hundred-dollar bills—easily over a thousand—was presented to her by Xenia. “You played well. This is a tip from me and my boyfriend,” Xenia said, her voice low.

“Boyfriend,” and “tip”—the words stung Lilith's heart. She looked at Xenia, whose seemingly calm eyes glimmered with satisfaction. Lilith thought Xenia must know who she was, and the strange number that sent her the video was likely linked to Xenia.

Lilith could tolerate Hendrix's treatment, but she couldn't stand Xenia's subtle provocation. She opened her mouth to respond but—

“What are you waiting for? Hurry up and leave,” Hendrix's voice cut in sharply. He cast her a warning look, as if to say she shouldn't be here confronting him and should just go home and apologize.

Hendrix's gaze locked onto Lilith’s, and she felt a stirring in her chest. She accepted the money Xenia handed her and got up to leave.

Xenia’s confidence stemmed from Hendrix; she couldn't compete with that. There was no need to embarrass herself over pride. If she could take the money, why not?

She returned to the main hall and continued to play until ten o'clock, when she finally finished. Yara went to get the car while Lilith changed out of her clothes and waited at the entrance.

The early autumn night was slightly chilly, and she tucked her hands into her pockets, pulling her coat tighter around her as she stared at the desolate street ahead.

Hendrix approached from behind, stopping beside her. He pulled out a cigarette and put it in his mouth. Glancing at her sideways, he said, “Don’t come to places like this to find me anymore. If you need something, say it at home.”

Lilith turned her head, noticing how he towered over her. The overhead light cast a golden glow around him. His handsome features were sharply defined, and the way he held the cigarette emphasized his strong jawline. A lazy yet regal aura radiated from him, awakening something in her numbed heart, making her feel alive again. But the more alive she felt, the more she sensed the pain.

Perhaps she was too insignificant in his eyes for him to think otherwise—was that why he was so certain she came here for him?

“You’re mistaken. I’m here to help Yara,” she replied, shifting to the side to maintain some distance.

Such stubbornness! Hendrix’s gaze turned cold, and he exhaled smoke through his thin lips. “No matter the reason, you’re not allowed to come here. Stop embarrassing me!”

“We're in a hidden marriage—no one knows I’m Mrs. Foster. If you really mind, we can go get a divorce tomorrow,” Lilith shot back, her heart aching from his harsh words.

In the chilly night, the atmosphere between the couple, who had once shared the most intimate moments, crackled with tension.