Chapter 1

Rain hammered against the Stone Estate's floor-to-ceiling windows like beads snapping off a string, each hit landing with a dull thud.

Evelyn Lake sat on the cold leather sofa with a crumpled divorce agreement in front of her, her fingertips white from gripping it too hard, crescent cuts from her nails carved into her palms.

"Sign it and get out of the Stone Estate." Richard Stone stood before the window, his back stiff as rock, his voice devoid of warmth.

Evelyn looked up, her vision blurred, "Richard, I spent three whole months writing that paper on Neural Pathway Restoration. Why is Claire's name on it?"

"Come on, Evelyn, don't make it sound so ugly." Claire Lake, in a silk nightgown with a glass of red wine in hand, swayed over to Richard and slipped her arm through his. "Rich is doing this for your own good.

"The medical world has no use for a disinfectant-soaked freak who only knows how to hold a scalpel. You're just a machine with no feelings. I, on the other hand, can turn that paper into something far more profitable."

"Commercial value?" Evelyn let out a bitter laugh. Tears welled in her eyes, but she forced them back. "That's life-saving technology, not a tool for you people to cash in on."

Richard turned around, disgust written all over his face. He strode over and grabbed Evelyn by the chin so hard it felt like he wanted to crush her bones. "Evelyn, quit acting so noble.

"Weren't you only able to marry into the Stone family because of your medical skills? Now Claire can do it better than you. You're no use to us anymore."

With a casual flick, he hurled a thick stack of documents at her face.

The sharp edges sliced across her cheek, leaving a thin line of blood.

"I've already destroyed all of your surgical records and research data. From today on, there will be no 'Miracle Surgeon' Evelyn Lake in the medical world. You're nothing but a cast-off with nothing to your name." He said.

Evelyn stared at the shredded scraps scattered across the floor. That was ten years of her life's work. Something inside her broke for good, shattered beyond repair. She didn't cry or make a scene. With trembling fingers, she signed the outrageously unfair agreement.

"Take your junk and get out. Now," Richard said coldly.

Carrying a battered suitcase, Evelyn stepped into the raging rain. The mansion behind her blazed with light. She had once thought it was home. Now it looked like a tomb that devoured people.

Cold wind and rain poured down her collar. Her foot slipped, and she crashed hard into the muddy street.

Her knee slammed against the asphalt, sending a stab of pain through her. She tried to get up, but her strength was gone, and her vision kept going dark.

Just as she was about to black out, a pair of black custom-made dress shoes stopped in front of her.

A black umbrella shut out the wind and rain. Fighting to keep her eyes open, Evelyn could only make out a blurry silhouette. The man bent down, slid his long-fingered hand under her arm, and lifted her into his arms.

His chest was hard and faintly scented with cedar, the only warmth she felt in that freezing rain-soaked night.

"Help..." she murmured before losing consciousness completely.

Half a month later.

On the top floor of a tower in Riverdale's Downtown District, sat an upscale private restaurant called Cloud Nine. It was members-only, and everyone who came through its doors was part of Riverdale's upper crust.

Evelyn wore a loose-fitting janitor's uniform, her head lowered as she wiped the brass handrail in the hallway. A faint scar marked the web of her right hand, left behind by her fall half a month ago.

"Hurry up. Mr. Stone and Miss Lake will be dining here soon." The floor manager walked over, shot Evelyn a look of open disdain, and sneered.

"And wipe that dead look off your face. If you offend an important guest, you won't be able to pay for it." He added.

Evelyn said nothing and kept moving the rag in her hand. She was no longer the gifted surgeon who once shone in the operating room, just a nameless cleaner trying to make a living.

A shrill female voice cut through the quiet hallway, "Well, well. Isn't this my dear sister?"