Bradley Austin sensed that Freya Lawson, like him, was driven by the motive of vengeance. He felt an inexplicable anticipation that Bruce Lawson's upcoming birthday celebration would be far more riveting than he imagined.

Leaning against a vast window, he watched Freya Lawson, engrossed in a phone conversation, her laughter making her eyes twinkle like crescent moons. She radiated a genuine innocence, a stark contrast to the women of intrigue he had encountered. Seeing her, his vexed thoughts melted away.

During the recent days without her, despite tracking her movements through video feeds, her absence made him feel an unexpected solitude. Reflecting on her impact on his life, how she unlocked emotional chains binding him for seven years, he resolved not to let her drift away again.

The next day.

Freya Lawson rose early to prepare breakfast. Since she had decided to stay for a few more days, she was committed to continuing Bradley Austin's treatment. The man now knew of her medical skills, so there was no point in hiding them any longer.

For breakfast, she made a delicious millet porridge and handcrafted some dumplings. The savory aroma wafted through the mansion, and as Bradley Austin descended the staircase, he was greeted by the mouth-watering scent.

Seeing him, Freya greeted him with a warm smile. "Good morning, Bradley. Do you have plans to go out today?"

"Do you ask for a reason?" He responded, narrowing his eyes slightly, his tone indifferent.

Freya pursed her lips and spoke softly, "Well, if you're staying in... I was thinking of giving you another acupuncture session."

"Oh?" Bradley's eyebrows quirked up, a mysterious glint in his eyes. He reached out, guided only by touch, and grasped her slender wrist, pulling her into his embrace.

Freya gasped, suddenly finding herself seated on his lap, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. Why did he have to be so forward?

"So, you're plotting to stick those needles into me again?" He teased, leaning closer to her ear, recalling the previous night when she had secretly given him acupuncture and blamed it on a mosquito bite.

Feeling trapped and a bit overwhelmed, Freya wriggled in his grasp, attempting to slide off his lap. But Bradley tightened his grip, ensuring she couldn't escape. She could sense his predatory aura, her heart racing. Memories of another man making similar advances flooded her mind, adding to her distress.

Freya bit her lip, avoiding his gaze as she gave a gentle shove against his chest. Rosa and Frederick Johnson were still nearby. Their open flirtation was becoming quite awkward.

"I'm trying to cure your migraines. There's a blood clot in your brain that can only be treated with acupuncture. Otherwise, you'd need surgery," she explained, pushing him away again. Observing the hint of panic in her eyes, a cold smirk curled Bradley’s lip.

The innocent reactions of this girl were amusing. Her flushed cheeks and misty eyes were unknowingly enticing, making her even more irresistible.

Post breakfast, in the sanctuary of his room, she prepared for the acupuncture session. The room's air carried a calming scent, which had been keeping Bradley Austin's tumultuous episodes at bay. He had been sleeping poorly, missing her calming presence.

As she administered the acupuncture, Bradley Austin found himself lulled into a deep relaxation. Despite lingering doubts about her motives, in her presence, he felt a rare sense of trust and security. By the session's end, the therapeutic ambiance and her gentle touch had coaxed him into a serene sleep.

While waiting, Freya Lawson fidgeted with the wolf-fang whistle she held, a memento from her search for her older brother. She had asked Milo for assistance in locating him, but years had passed with no news.

Sighing deeply, Freya Lawson raised the whistle to her lips and blew, producing a mellifluous sound. Yet, she knew he would never hear it. She glanced over at Bradley Austin, who was soundly asleep, undisturbed by the haunting notes she had just played.

Carefully tucking away the whistle, she slipped out of bed and started to leave the room. Just then, Mr. Johnson, one of the household attendants, approached. Bowing respectfully, he said, "Madam, your dress has arrived and has been placed in your room."

"Dress?" she blinked in confusion.

Mr. Johnson continued, "Bradley Austin had a special dress made for you in anticipation of your father's upcoming birthday celebration. Didn't he mention it?"

She shook her head. Since her return, Bradley Austin had not uttered a word about it.

"There's also a piece of jewelry," Mr. Johnson added. "He noticed the necklace you often wore was aging, so he had a new one crafted in its likeness. I believe you will adore it."

With a thoughtful expression, Freya Lawson walked into her room. Spread out on her bed was a mauve off-shoulder dress. Simple in design, the dress boasted an elegant embroidered pink blossom at its shoulder, cinching at the waist like a fairytale gown. She ran her fingers over the soft, luxurious fabric, appreciating its refined quality.

Beside the dress lay a square, red velvet box. Inside, a necklace lay resplendent. It bore a striking resemblance to the one her mother had gifted her. However, this piece was masterfully crafted from platinum. As Freya Lawson carefully held it up, she spotted her initials etched gracefully onto the pendant — a subtle testament to Bradley Austin's silent sentiment towards her.