When Cassia was twelve, she had a terrible fever.

For some reason, no matter what he tried—the best doctors, the most advanced medicine—the fever wouldn’t break.

He was frantic, desperate enough to try anything.

Someone told him to pray. So he, Damian Blackwood, a man of immense status and pride, knelt his way up the 999 steps of the monastery to beg for a string of prayer beads to keep her safe.

From that day on, she never had a major illness again.

Later, Cassia had also knelt, but for three thousand steps, to ask for a charm to bind their fates in love.

Only, the heavens hadn't heard her wish.

The fire consumed everything, its embers slowly dying in the cold night wind.

Cassia turned and went back inside. To her surprise, Damian hadn’t left. He had changed into soft lounge clothes, a rare sight that softened the usual distance around him.

She didn’t rush to his side as she once would have, her face alight with joy at his presence.

Damian merely glanced at her, not seeming to care what she had been doing in the garden.

He turned his attention back to the butler. “Find a new chef, one who specializes in Creole cuisine.”

Cassia froze. She and Damian were both New Yorkers born and bred; neither of them cared for the rich, spicy flavors of New Orleans.

But Vivienne was from Louisiana.

Sure enough, the next moment, Damian dismissed the butler and turned to her, his voice cool. “Vivienne will be moving in in a few days. Whatever your relationship was before, I expect you to know how to address her starting tomorrow.”

Before he finished, the television blared with the host’s excited voice—

“Let’s give a huge congratulations to the winner of the 23rd Golden Iris Award for Best Actress—Vivienne Thorne! Congratulations!”

On the screen, Vivienne, stunning in a simple yet elegant black strapless gown, gracefully walked onto the stage.

She’d only been in the industry for two years. In terms of acting talent or experience, this award should have been beyond her reach.

But what could anyone do? She had Damian Blackwood in her corner.

Cassia felt no great ripple of emotion.

No one knew better than her how ostentatious Damian could be when he cared about someone.

She dug her nails into her palm, quickly schooling her features into a compliant smile. “Don’t worry, Uncle. I understand.”

At her words, Damian’s intense gaze finally softened.

But at the same time, he felt that Cassia’s obedience today was… abnormal.

Had she truly grown up? Or was this just another tactic, a retreat to advance later?

He fell silent for a moment, then spoke again. “Vivienne is having a celebration party tomorrow. You should come.”

Before Cassia could refuse, he turned and went to his room.

She knew she didn’t have the right to refuse anyway. With a bitter twist of her lips, she too walked away.

Fourteen… days left.

The next evening, for the first time in seven years, Cassia sat in Damian’s car again.

It was a stretched Lincoln, the license plate a string of five eights—a symbol of power that commanded deference from everyone in the city.

The moment she got in, the scent of sandalwood enveloped her, a haunting echo of the times she had curled up in his arms.

She slowed her breathing, deliberately leaving an empty seat between them, pressing herself against the car door. She cracked the window open just a slit, gulping in the outside air, and remained silent for the entire ride.

She was never like this before.

She used to cling to him, chattering about her day at the academy, or complaining about an injury from training, wanting him to comfort her.

But now, those scenes would never happen again.

Just as he wished, she would be sensible and keep her distance.

Into the quiet, Damian’s voice suddenly cut through. “Where are your prayer beads?”

Cassia paused, surprised he had even noticed.

After a moment of silence, she lied without batting an eye. “I put them away.”

Damian’s brow furrowed. “Those beads are meant to keep you safe. You should wear them always. Don’t use this as a way to get my attention.”

A lump formed in Cassia’s throat. “I won’t, Uncle,” she managed to say, her voice strained.

Because she would never again try to catch his eye.

They soon arrived at the banquet hall.

The moment they walked in, Vivienne pulled Cassia aside with a warm smile, eagerly sharing stories about her and Damian.

“Cassia, your uncle seems so aloof, but he’s actually so gentle and thoughtful. These past few months, he’s been showering me with gifts, taking me to the monastery to pray for blessings, flying kites with me, taking me to see the lantern festivals.”

“Everyone says he’s so in love with me, but I still feel… a little insecure. Do you think… he really likes me?”

Cassia stared quietly at the woman who was once her best friend.

Just a few days ago, before Damian had announced their relationship, Vivienne had been out shopping with her.

When they talked about Damian, Vivienne had even consoled her. “You’ve liked him for so many years, and he’s never shown any interest. Maybe you should just give up.”

“Besides, your feelings for your ‘uncle’… if that got out, it would be terrible for your reputation.”

Back then, Cassia had thought she was being a good friend.

Now, seeing them together, she felt a profound sense of betrayal, a knife twisting in her back.

She had imagined countless times how she would confront Vivienne, how she would rage and demand answers.

But now, she didn't want to ask anything at all.

It didn't matter anymore.

Cassia offered a faint smile. “I’ve never seen Uncle care about anyone this much. You know he’s never been in a relationship, and he spent seven years in a monastery, right? You’re his first love.”

Vivienne’s expression stiffened for a fraction of a second before melting back into a radiant smile, a blush coloring her cheeks.

“With your blessing, I can finally marry him without any worries.”

Just then, Damian walked over, his hand resting naturally on Vivienne’s shoulder. His voice was gentle. “What are you two talking about?”

Vivienne maintained a perfect, demure smile. “We were talking about our wedding.”

“Oh, Cassia, what I really want today is your blessing. I was wondering if you could…”

Before she could finish, Cassia picked up a glass of champagne and raised it to them. “Uncle, Aunt, I wish you a hundred years of happiness, and may you grow old together.”

She drained the glass in one go.