Chapter 1

My name is Emily Sterling.

Seven days ago, at my engagement party, my fiancé, Lucas Grant, publicly broke off our engagement.

He was cradling my half-sister, Olivia Sterling, while sneering at me, "Emily, you're stiff, boring, and aloof. Looking at you makes me sick."

Olivia snuggled up to him, smiling gently, yet her words were dripping with malice. "Emily, Lucas likes warm, clingy girls, not a cold, unloved person like you."

That day, I became the joke of the entire Vancroix Circle.

The Sterling family's castaway daughter, the Grant family's discarded wife. Mother gone too soon, father cold and indifferent, stepmother plotting against me at every turn.

It felt like I was born inferior to everyone.

I honestly believed that was the lowest point of my life until seven days later.

Late that night, after downing a glass of spiked red wine, my body went limp and my mind started to blur. My stepmother, Margaret Sterling personally put me into a black sedan.

"Emily, don't blame me," she said, her voice cold and insincere. "It's your own fault for getting in Olivia's way.

"You'd better seize this chance to cozy up to that big shot. Don't let me down."

The car stopped in front of a quiet, secluded mansion.

Before I could realize, I was settled onto a plush couch.

The lights were soft, and everything felt so clean like not even a speck of dust could survive here.

In a daze, I was put on a soft sofa and then felt a cool, gentle touch on my forehead, like a feather brushing softly across my skin, yet it was gone in an instant.

I forced my eyes open and found myself staring into a pair of pale blue eyes.

A man sat before me in plain black loungewear, a rosary clasped between his long, slender fingers. He had clean, sharp features and a well-defined jawline, with a quiet, distant calm about him.

My mind was reeling.

This man was Alexander Pierce, Cardinal Pierce, the true ruler of the Vancroix Circle.

Rumor had it Alexander had been devout since childhood: chaste, detached, and uninterested in women. Everyone said he would never fall for anyone in his entire life.

But now, the utterly noble, revered cardinal was gazing down at me. His pale blue eyes held quiet depth, lingering on my reddened eye corners and quivering lips.

He didn't touch me or come any closer but only kept a respectful distance, yet I could still catch the faint, crisp scent of him.

Such extreme restraint was somehow more unsettling than any touch could ever be.

"Awake?" His voice was low and gentle, reaching my ears in a soft murmur. Heat crept up my earlobes in an instant.

Embarrassed and flustered, I curled up in the corner of the couch, my whole body limp and my eyes teary. "Mr. Pierce, I'm so sorry... I was set up."

He said nothing, only stood and moved to the table, slowly making coffee.

His slender, well-defined fingers curled around a mug, every movement graceful, refined, and restrained.

Once finished, he walked to me and handed me the mug.

I reached out to take it, my fingertips accidentally brushing his palm. The contact lasted only a split second, yet a faint tremor shot through me like an electric jolt.

His fingers stiffened slightly, his gaze deepening for a heartbeat before steadying once again, while a faint flush quietly crept up his ears.

"This will sober you up," he said, withdrawing his hand and settling back into his seat, his gaze drifting away from mine on purpose. "I won't lay a finger on you. Don't be scared."

On hearing his words, my panic simply vanished.

I held the mug in my hands, feeling the warmth of the coffee.

He sat a few steps away. Moonlight wrapped around him, making him all the more ethereal, yet there was a softness in his gaze that he didn't quite realize himself.

"Mr. Pierce," I murmured, biting my lip, "can I pretend tonight never happened..."

"It did happen," he cut me off, his voice steady and absolute. "You stepped into my house, sat on my couch, and breathed my air."

I was stunned.

He looked up, and his eyes locked onto me again. His gaze was steady and focused, restrained yet burning, trailing inch by inch over my face, as if he were examining a treasure. Restrained, yet burning hot.

"Word gets out fast in the Vancroix Circle," he said slowly. "If you walk out of here now, you'll be labeled as the woman who tried to seduce Cardinal Pierce but failed."

My face went pale.

As he watched me flustered and helpless, a faint flicker of concern crossed his eyes and so brief it was gone before I could catch it.

"I'm giving you two choices," he said, holding up one finger, slender and clean, highlighted by the light.

He continued, "First, I'll send you overseas. You'll have a life free from trouble, and our ties will be cut for good.

Then he lifted another finger slowly and paused, his throat bobbing faintly, his voice dropping to an even lower murmur, "Second, marry me."