Madeline stepped calmly into the private room, her expression betraying nothing. “Just now, I was having a drink downstairs when Ms. Stewart came storming in, insisting you’d have me dismembered. So, I thought I’d come along and see how you plan to do it.”

"..."

The room fell silent. The people inside—mostly Sebastian's close-knit group of friends—wore expressions as though they'd just swallowed something foul. But not one of them dared to utter a sound.

Most of them knew both sides of Sebastian’s relationship with Madeline. They’d seen the indulgent, protective way he once treated his wife, but they’d also witnessed that blowout argument a year ago—a raw, unrestrained clash that had stripped away all pretense, leaving only screams and gutting truths out in the open for all to see.

So now, faced with this charged moment, none of them could guess what Sebastian’s stance might be.

Would he side with a new flame or an old one?

If he shielded Madeline and put Scarlett in her place, it might signify lingering feelings. But if he chose Scarlett...

Their collective thoughts hadn’t even settled when Sebastian broke the tension with a languid smile, his voice curling with indolence. "She’s young, doesn’t know better. Just joking around. Dr. Smith, it’s hardly worth getting worked up over a child."

Scarlett gave a triumphant little hum at his words, her satisfaction radiating off her in smug waves.

And just like that, the group got their answer. In Sebastian’s eyes, this wife of his was a thing of the past.

But then he added, "Dr. Smith, don’t let her ruin the mood for you. Sit down, join us for the evening. Consider it my apology."

Apologizing to a side piece by offering up his wife?

The absurdity of it left everyone’s expressions twisting even more dramatically, a kaleidoscope of disbelief and unease. Sarah, meanwhile, was fit to explode.

“Fine,” Sarah spat, yanking Madeline to sit beside her, a storm brewing beneath her fury. “Let’s play along then!”

Who couldn’t play?

“What’s on the table—dice? Poker? Russian roulette? Surely, Mr. Turner, your parties don’t devolve into just sitting around drinking. That’s far too dull.”

Among Sebastian’s entourage was a man named Xavier Cooper. A social climber at heart, Xavier had spent years orbiting the group’s outermost perimeter, endlessly scheming to worm his way into Sebastian’s core circle. Tonight seemed to offer an ideal stage.

As he observed the dynamic unfolding—Sebastian allowing both his wife and lover to remain in the same room, under the guise of amends—he came to a ready conclusion: Sebastian meant to humiliate Madeline. What else could it be? This wasn’t an act of grace; it was a spectacle. The sidepiece getting an apology, while the wife sat there to watch the affection unfold—it could hardly be more deliberate.

Sensing his moment to curry favor, Xavier leaned in with unctuous confidence. “Let’s up the ante, then. How about ‘Only Say Yes’? The rules are simple: if you’re asked a question, you can only answer with ‘yes.’ If you refuse, you drink three shots as penalty. Everyone gets three questions.”

He turned to Sebastian, eager. “Mr. Turner—what do you think?”

Sebastian, reclining in his seat, eyelids heavy, gave a drowsy little shrug. His voice was deliberate, a husky drawl. “Sure. Go ahead.”

Xavier’s grin widened. “Then, Dr. Smith, let’s begin.” He leaned forward, delight practically gleaming in his eyes. “It’s said that you only got into the Turner family because Aunt Turner personally selected you. Is that true?”

The room held its breath. For a moment, even Scarlett’s derision took the form of a barely stifled giggle. A few people exchanged glances, relishing the start of Xavier’s thinly veiled attack.

Spencer thought, briefly, about interrupting—but gauging Sebastian’s opinion was an impossible task. He opted to wait.

Madeline, her face an impassive mask, met Xavier’s provocation with calm precision. “Yes.”

“Over the past two years, Turner Group’s share price has risen 140%, and it’s climbed multiple spots on the Forbes rankings. Word is, you cling so tightly to Mr. Turner—following him even when he’s out drinking with his friends—because you’re afraid he’ll abandon you. Can’t bear to give up the Turner family’s wealth and status, can you?”

“Yes.”

“After your parents passed away, the Smith family’s fortune was reportedly carved up by your relatives. So, in the end, you—the so-called heiress—aren’t much better off than the hostesses employed at Campbell Club. Isn’t that right?”

Before Xavier could even finish, Sarah shot to her feet in outrage. But Madeline gently caught her wrist, steadying her.

Madeline’s eyes stayed locked on Xavier’s, unflinching. There was even a faint curl of amusement on her lips as she answered, “Yes.”

Sarah burned hotter, nearly shaking on the spot. Her composure shattered while her anger swelled in helpless waves. This wasn’t a game—it was a setup, a deliberate attempt to shame.

Her gaze snapped toward Sebastian, an unspoken demand in her expression. He was just going to sit there, letting his so-called friends tear his wife down in front of him?

But Sebastian remained as he had been—languid, unbothered, neither clearly entertained nor overtly dismayed. The dim, uneven light in the room played across his features, obscuring all hints of the thoughts rattling behind that unreadable facade.

Sarah felt her fury curdle into despair. To be married to this man—what was the point? What was the use in fighting for someone so uninterested in fighting for you?

Xavier, on the other hand, was practically basking. Clearly invigorated, he turned to Sebastian, his voice slick with triumph. “Mr. Turner, it seems Dr. Smith knows how to have some fun after all!”

Sebastian tapped the ash from his cigarette, letting it fall unnoticed onto the smooth fabric of his tailored trousers. He said nothing.

Scarlett was close enough to sense the simmering violence radiating from him. Her smile faltered, then disappeared entirely, her face freezing into a blank mask.

“My turn.”

Madeline's voice was calm, almost detached. “Mr. Cooper lost twenty million dollars at the Macau casinos last year. Covered the hole with funds embezzled from the company, didn’t he?”

Xavier’s expression shifted violently. “You—”

“You can only answer ‘yes,’” Madeline interrupted with a faint smile. “Or, if you'd prefer, drink three as an admission of your inability to play. What’s it going to be?”

The implication was clear: men who couldn’t handle the heat didn’t belong here. Xavier’s teeth clenched. His voice came out choked. “...Yes.”

“And then there’s the film school student you kept. She went through with the abortion, and when you blocked her afterwards, she plastered your whole story online. That little mess cost your family a few key business deals, didn’t it?”

Xavier surged to his feet, his indignation louder than his guilt. “What the hell kind of lies are you spouting?”

Sebastian’s voice sliced through the ruckus, cool and unhurried. “The rules.”

Xavier froze mid-motion. His face flushed; then it paled. Finally, he let out a guttural groan. “...Yes.”

“And when you tried to make it go away, you needed Macau’s big brother to handle it for you. He’s got...let’s call them unconventional tastes. Seems you didn't have much of a choice but to...accommodate him. Didn’t go so well, though, did it? Word is you had to pay the proctologist a visit afterward. Am I right about that?”

The room erupted in savage laughter, a wave of mockery that swept over Xavier, leaving his face purple with humiliation. He staggered under the weight of her words, furious and ashamed, but when he finally lashed out, it was blind.

“Shut the fuck up!” he roared, snatching up a bottle and hurling it straight at Madeline.

He moved faster than anyone had time to react, but Sebastian was faster still. His foot shot out, smashing the coffee table with a crack that splintered glass across the room. The momentum carried, sending Xavier flying backward. He crashed into the wall and crumpled to the floor with a sound like broken scaffolding.

Shock rippled through the room. No one moved.

Sebastian eased his long leg back into place, then dropped effortlessly onto the couch again, as though none of it deserved any real effort. His voice trailed lazily through the silence.

“Brotherhood? You must be kidding. What kind of loser thinks he has that much credit with me? Touch her again, and I’ll make sure you crawl out of here.”

Xavier groaned, clutching his ribs as though his spine had shattered. Spencer raised a hand, and two men rushed forward to drag him out. Xavier’s fate was sealed now—Sebastian hadn’t just shut him out of his inner circle; he’d single-handedly erased any future for the Cooper family in Notadel City.

The room hung in a breathless lull, oppressive and cold. Sarah, lingering behind Madeline, muttered under her breath with an odd mix of longing and irritation, “That bastard. One minute he’s infuriating enough to give me a damn tumor, and the next, he’s so devastatingly hot I can’t stop drooling.”

Madeline said nothing, though the thought slipped through her mind: You’d faint if you knew he once carried me, princess-style, right into the middle of a brawl—took on four men without breaking a sweat.

No one dared to speak after that. Scarlett had shrunk into a corner, stricken by the force of Sebastian’s sudden violence. Everyone else sat frozen, watching every twitch or flicker on his face as though treading a razor’s edge.

“Continue,” Sebastian said, his tone casual, as if he hadn’t just turned the room into a war zone. He lit a cigarette, the glow catching the sharp outline of his features. Smoke coiled lazily in the air as his gaze landed on Madeline. “Your move.”

“Dr. Smith,” he murmured, the name coming out like an afterthought. “Ask your question.”

Madeline felt the weight of his attention, that dark intensity pinning her in place. She reached for a glass almost absentmindedly, bypassing the bright, lethal liquids flashing in the dim light. It was white, clear—safe. Taking a sip, she found it unexpectedly sweet, the kind of sweetness that lingers deceptively under the surface.

Sebastian didn’t look away, even as she set the glass lightly on her knee. Her composure in this room, a riot of color and chaos, felt absurdly formal, like a sunflower blooming in a thunderstorm.

She tipped her head, voice calm yet cutting through the tension like a scalpel. “You begged me to marry you, didn’t you?”

The question sliced through the stillness. Every head turned, the expression a universal what the hell? Sarah, however, downed a cocktail and whooped, thoroughly entertained.

Sebastian chuckled—a low, weighty sound, full of promise and threat. “Yes.”

Madeline didn’t let him off so easily. Her second question followed seamlessly. “And the reason we’re still married is because you can’t bear to let me go, isn’t it?”

Xavier's mocking dig from earlier echoed in her mind, the way he’d accused her of forcing Sebastian into the marriage, of clinging to him out of ambition. With just a few simple words, she would have this turned back onto him instead—straight from Sebastian’s own lips, no less.

The smile tugging at the corners of Sebastian’s mouth grew darker, richer, layered with a complexity even she couldn’t quite read. “Yes.”

From her corner, Scarlett could barely contain herself, stomping a foot in frustration. How shameless could Madeline be? How deluded—so desperate to twist reality into something palatable!

Madeline paid the woman no mind, her focus zeroed in on the third question poised on her tongue. She stared straight at Sebastian, her voice clear as the glass in her hand.

“And in the year you spent in the States,” she asked, the pause electric, “you’ve already cheated on me, haven’t you?”