Night had fallen. Lilian sat in the living room in a silk nightgown, waiting for Harry. 

In her younger years, she had been a stunning southern beauty, cherished by Jerry, who spoiled her to the point where she never had to lift a finger for household chores. Later, she remarried Harry, who inherited Jerry’s business empire and expanded it further. Her role as a wealthy wife was well-established, and with her meticulous self-care, she still exuded charm despite her age. 

The villa’s main door opened as a maid let Harry in. 

Lilian’s face lit up with joy. She rushed to greet him, helping him remove his suit jacket. “Honey, why are you home so late?” 

Unlike Jerry’s honest and reserved demeanor, Harry had always been dashing and flirtatious in his youth. Now, as a CEO, he carried an air of authority that made Lilian utterly infatuated with him. 

“I had a business dinner,” Harry replied casually. 

As he spoke, Lilian caught a familiar scent on his suit—perfume from his new secretary. 

Her smile faded, replaced by anger. “Were you with that secretary again?” 

Harry frowned, clearly displeased. “Lilian, stop being paranoid. Instead of wasting energy on this nonsense, why don’t you focus on cheering Jessica up? She’s upset that Dr. Ceylan refused to treat her. I’m tired. I’m going upstairs.” 

He turned to leave. 

Lilian suddenly called out, “I found a way to get Dr. Ceylan to help Jessica.” 

Harry froze mid-step and turned back, his expression immediately softening. He wrapped an arm around Lilian’s shoulder. “Lilian, you’re amazing. You never let me down. You’re my treasure.” 

Harry was a master at sweet-talking, perfectly catering to Lilian’s delicate sensibilities. 

Lilian leaned into his embrace, her tone coquettish as she playfully scolded him, “On one condition—you have to fire that secretary.” 

“Done,” Harry agreed without hesitation. “I’ll let her go tomorrow.” 

Then, without warning, he scooped Lilian into his arms. 

Her body went weak, and a blush crept up her cheeks. “Didn’t you just say you were tired?” 

The silk of her nightgown shifted, revealing the lace lingerie underneath. Harry’s grin turned wicked. “With you looking this irresistible, who could be tired?” 

Lilian lightly slapped his chest. “You’re terrible.” 

Harry laughed, unabashed. “But you like it, don’t you?” 

The next day, Wendy was in her apartment when Lilian called. 

Lilian’s voice was unusually warm and motherly. “Wendy, I was wrong at the hospital. I’ve prepared all your favorite dishes. Come home for dinner.” 

In the kitchen, Cecelia poked her head out. “Don’t go! She’s just Harry’s lap dog. At her age, she’s still acting like a lovesick fool. She’s beyond saving.” 

Wendy’s tone was indifferent. “I’m busy.” She wanted to hang up. 

But Lilian quickly added, “Wendy, your father buried a bottle of wine when you were born, meant to be opened when you grew up. I’ve dug it up. Come home.” 

Wendy’s long lashes trembled slightly. Lilian always knew how to hit her weak spots. 

Soon, she arrived at the Crone family villa. Harry and Jessica weren’t home, and Lilian had indeed prepared an elaborate meal. On the table sat the bottle of wine, with the words ‘For my Wendy’ clumsily written in her father’s handwriting. 

Wendy’s father hadn’t been well-educated, but was a self-made man. Unlike Harry, who had been a university graduate in his time, her father’s life had been built on grit and determination. 

Wendy traced her fingers over the words ‘For my Wendy’ on the label. She had once had a happy childhood; her father had loved young Wendy dearly. 

Lilian seemed to be in high spirits, her face glowing with vitality. She opened the wine and poured two glasses, one for herself and one for Wendy. 

“Wendy, let’s toast.” 

Wendy glanced at her and asked coolly, “How did my father really die?” 

The question made Lilian’s hand tremble, nearly spilling her drink. 

She averted her gaze. “Wendy, he… He died of illness. I’ve told you before, but you wouldn’t understand. You’re not a doctor!” 

Wendy chuckled coldly and emptied her glass in one go. She would find out the truth about her father’s death. 

Setting down the empty glass, Wendy stood. “I have things to do. I’m leaving.” 

As she proceeded to leave, Ted appeared. 

Wendy frowned. “Who are you?” 

Ted, middle-aged and outwardly gentlemanly, scanned Wendy with a lecherous gaze. His grin was slimy and overtly suggestive. 

Lilian put down her drink. “Wendy, this is Dr. Whalen from the naturopathy center. He can convince Dr. Ceylan to treat Jessica.” 

Wendy studied him, her lips curling into a cold smile. “And?” 

Lilian dropped the pretense of motherly affection. “Wendy, sleep with Dr. Whalen, and Jessica will be saved.” 

Her mother was asking her to sleep with a man to save her half-sister—so that was why she had been invited back. 

Wendy suddenly felt a burning heat spread through her body. Something wasn’t right. 

She glanced at the wine bottle. Lilian had drugged it. 

Wendy’s eyes turned red with unshed tears. Disappointment filled her gaze as she looked at Lilian. 

What had she done to deserve this? Why was she never loved? 

Lilian avoided Wendy’s eyes and turned to Ted. “Dr. Whalen, she’s all yours.” 

Ted’s excitement was palpable as he lunged toward Wendy. “Come on, gorgeous! Let’s see if you’re as wild in bed as you look!” 

Lilian left the room. 

The moment she was gone, Ted collapsed to the floor, unconscious from a dose of drug. 

However, Wendy wasn’t doing well either. The drug was potent, and she felt as if she were burning from the inside out. 

She reached for the silver needles she always carried, only to realize they weren’t on her. She must have left them at her old villa. 

With no other choice, Wendy rushed back to the villa. Ever since she had moved out with her suitcase, she hadn’t returned. She searched the master bedroom for the needles but couldn’t find them. Mathilda must have thrown them out while cleaning. 

The effects of the wine intensified, making her head spin. She tried to hold onto her rationality, but the heat overwhelmed her. 

Just then, steady footsteps echoed outside the door. 

Someone was back. 

Could it be Stanley? 

Wendy’s eyes lit up as the door opened. 

A searing body flung itself into Stanley’s arms.