# CHAPTER 1 — First Snow Over Harborhaven
The first heavy snow of December fell on **Harborhaven**.
In the hospital corridor, **Adrian Cole**, his face etched with exhaustion, paced anxiously. A moment later, he saw the doctor emerge from the room and hurried over.
"Doctor, how's my grandma?"
The doctor, a man nearing fifty with thinning hair, closed the door gently and shook his head with a sigh.
"It'll be a miracle if she makes it through the night. I'll prescribe some strong painkillers—an injection every three hours. Try to make her passing as peaceful as possible."
A wave of dizziness washed over Adrian. He stumbled, his body going limp as he leaned against the wall. After a long moment, he took off his glasses, wiped the corner of his eye, and finally mustered the courage to enter the room.
His grandmother, having just received a painkiller, lay quietly on the bed, an oxygen tube in her nose. She turned her head slightly, squinting at him with a kind smile.
"Adrian… where's **Liana**?"
She likely knew her time was short and wanted to see her granddaughter‑in‑law one last time.
Adrian fought back tears, pulling a chair to the bedside. He forced a smile.
"Grandma, she's probably filming today. Super busy."
The old woman's cold hands clasped his. "Busy is good. Adrian, why don't you give her a call? I'd like to talk to her. I'm afraid I won't be able to wait much longer."
"Don't say that. You'll live to be a hundred." Adrian squeezed her hand, but seeing the unwavering look in her eyes, he reluctantly pulled out his phone and dialed Liana.
"The subscriber you have dialed is currently unavailable."
Adrian frowned. "She's really tied up, Grandma. Are you hungry? Want me to get you something to eat?"
The old woman closed her cloudy eyes, her pale lips moving faintly.
"I'd love your special tomato egg drop soup."
The **Harborhaven Oncology Pavilion** wasn't far from home, a ten‑minute drive. Adrian thought for a moment, gave a nurse some instructions, then rushed out to his beat‑up old Honda Civic.
In the underground parking garage, Adrian had just parked and opened his door when he saw a familiar figure.
Not far off, by a white Range Rover, **Liana** was clinging to a man in a sharp suit, tears streaming down her face like a spring rain.
Adrian's heart stuttered. He froze.
He knew that man—**Julian Cross**, Liana's childhood sweetheart, the one she'd always idealized.
Three years ago, for reasons unknown, Julian had callously left Liana and gone abroad. Liana had been a wreck during that time. They say a woman is most vulnerable when she's hurting, and that was how Adrian, ever the devoted admirer, had gotten his chance to marry her.
He knew Liana still carried a torch for someone else. But he believed he could eventually win her over—what heart, he thought, couldn't be thawed with enough warmth?
But now Julian gently patted Liana's back, murmuring softly.
"My dear Liana… three years ago, I truly thought my illness was incurable. Going to America was a long shot. I figured I was going to die. That's why I had to leave you. You have no idea how much it hurt. I pushed away the girl I loved most with my own hands. I even sincerely hoped you'd find a man who loved you more than I ever could."
Liana sobbed. "How could you be so selfish, so foolish, Julian? These three years, there hasn't been a moment I haven't thought of you. I knew you must have had a reason for leaving me. You can't leave me again."
Julian caressed her cheek, his eyes full of pain. "Silly girl. I won't leave again. I know you don't really love that Cole guy, do you?"
Liana paused, then bit her lip before she could answer. Her gaze fell on Adrian, who was slowly approaching.
"Let her go."
Hearing the sudden, icy voice behind him, Julian instinctively released Liana. He turned, and upon seeing Adrian, he first looked surprised—then a mocking smile touched his lips as he defiantly wrapped an arm around Liana's waist.
Liana's body tensed slightly. After a moment's hesitation, she removed his hand and took two steps toward Adrian, her neck stiff, unable to meet his eyes.
"Adrian… you saw."
"I'm not blind." Adrian's face was impassive. He paused, then took a breath. "Come with me to the hospital."
Julian stepped forward, his eyes raking over Adrian's hopelessly uncool attire.
"You must be Adrian Cole," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "I remember you chasing Liana in high school. You were a total square back then—like some country bumpkin. And now, still the same, I see."
Adrian stared intently at Liana, repeating, "Come to the hospital with me. Grandma… wants to talk to you."
Liana frowned, about to speak, when Julian cut in.
"Adrian, you should know about Liana and me. More importantly, you should know Liana never actually liked you."
With that, Julian pulled a checkbook from his pocket, tore out a check, and handed it to Adrian. His tone was sincere—yet laced with derision.
"Regardless, thank you for taking care of her these past two years. Fill in any amount you like. Consider it my way of repaying you."
Adrian's patience snapped. He shoved Julian.
"Was I talking to you?"
Julian staggered back, his back hitting the hood of the Range Rover. He clutched his chest, his face contorting in pain.
Liana's eyes widened. She pushed Adrian away forcefully.
"Adrian, what are you doing? He's not well. What if something happens to him? Can you take responsibility for that?"
She rushed to Julian's side. "Julian, are you okay?"
Julian's breathing was ragged. He bit his lip hard, looking like he was enduring immense pain.
"I'm… I'm fine."
"You call this fine? I'm taking you to the hospital."
Liana struggled to help Julian up and settled him into the passenger seat. As she walked around the front of the car to the driver's side, she shot Adrian a glare.
"Get lost. I don't want to see you."
Adrian's fist clenched. "Liana, I'm telling you one last time. Come to the hospital with me. Grandma is—"
"She's not going to make it."
His last words were cut off by the slamming car door.
Watching the Range Rover speed away, Adrian gently pushed up the heavy black‑rim glasses on his nose and took a deep breath. A bitter smile touched his lips.
"Forget it. Just forget it," he muttered.
When it came to being a pushover, Adrian Cole was in a class of his own—always hoping some grand gesture would win the beauty's smile. He knew deep down that unrequited love was a poor substitute for the real thing.
But even devotion had its limits.
In a situation like this, to keep clinging, to beg her for a glance, would be truly pathetic.
Reality often worked this way. When Prince Charming finally appeared, the kindest thing the princess could say to the daydreaming frog was, "You're a nice guy," before riding off into the sunset with her prince, operating on the principle of: *I know I owe you, but please stay far away from me.*
Grandma didn't make it to the next day.
At 11:30 that night, she passed away peacefully.
The older generation believed in returning to one's roots, so Adrian hired a hearse from the funeral home and, under the cover of night, took his grandmother back to their old family homestead in the country.
When the neighbors heard, word spread quickly and they all came to help—knowing the old woman had no other relatives besides her grandson. Besides, what did a young man like Adrian know about funeral arrangements?
He knelt by the makeshift altar all night.
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# CHAPTER 2 — Tomato Egg Soup and a Spy Drop
Around noon, drowsy from lack of sleep over the past few days, Adrian was dozing off when his phone buzzed.
He pulled it out.
A text from **Reece**.
It contained four screenshots and a single line:
**Make him disappear.**
Two of the screenshots were sweet photos of Liana and Julian arm‑in‑arm heading home. Clearly paparazzi shots. The other two were online comments:
- *Is our goddess Liana going public with her relationship? Congrats.*
- *Heard the guy's a rich heir.*
- *What's new? Aren't all actresses aiming for rich heirs these days?*
Liana was a bona fide A‑lister now. Paparazzi trailing her 24/7 was normal.
As for why no one questioned her fidelity—she and Adrian had a secret marriage. The excuse being it wouldn't affect her career.
As it turned out, if you loved someone enough, a career was hardly an obstacle.
Adrian pinched the bridge of his nose and texted Reece back:
**Don't touch them.**
Then he put his phone away.
At the same time, someone outside the mourning tent called out, "The bereaved grandson acknowledges your respects."
Adrian quickly bowed his head.
When he straightened up, he saw that the person offering condolences was a large, burly man in a suit with a round, beefy face. The man had to be over 250 pounds. The buttons on his suit wouldn't close. When he knelt to bow, his belly pressed against his thighs, looking rather comical.
After burning some paper money, the large man shuffled on his knees closer to Adrian. His honest face was expressionless as he furtively pulled a phone from his pocket and handed it to Adrian, speaking in a low voice like a spy making a drop.
"Someone wants to talk to you."
Adrian eyed the large man curiously. "Who are you?"
"Never mind who I am. The call's connected. Just answer it."
Adrian stared skeptically at the man's face before slowly taking the phone.
"Hello, Adrian." A voice all too familiar came through the receiver. "It's your father."
Adrian was somewhat surprised. Then a faint smile played on his lips.
"Well, what do you know? You're still alive? Providence must be blind."
The large man beside him looked like he was about to turn green.
There was a silence on the other end, then a sigh.
"Sometimes I wonder if you're even my son. How can your mouth be so damn sharp?"
Adrian snorted. "**Damon Cole**. Even though Grandma was just the mother of one of your entanglements, she was still technically your mother‑in‑law. If you have any decency left, you'd come pay your respects."
The man whose frown could send shivers down the spines of Harborhaven's business elite didn't seem angry. He chuckled.
"Let **Brock** here do it for me. It's a bit inconvenient for me to come."
Adrian pursed his lips, glancing sideways at Brock.
He said, "You have to bow eight hundred times. You can't leave until you're done, Brock."
Damon laughed out loud. Though they hadn't seen each other in over a decade, he knew his illegitimate son's character inside and out.
After a moment, his tone suddenly turned serious.
"Let's talk business, Adrian. Two years ago, when you first came back to the country, I wanted you to return to the Cole family. But you said you wanted to care for your grandmother until the end, so I didn't push you. Now that she's gone… isn't it time you came back?"
The Cole family—Harborhaven's preeminent dynasty. Yet faced with that weight, Adrian seemed utterly unfazed.
"Go back for what? To see you off to hell? Are you close?"
Brock, who hadn't been kneeling steadily, pitched forward, his head hitting the ground hard.
"Adrian, I know you hate me, but this isn't the time for grudges. You're my only son. Your grandfather's health is failing day by day."
"I think so," Adrian said flatly. "You want me to come back and help you fight for the inheritance? Can't wait to replace the old man, huh?"
"Adrian—"
He cut him off coldly. "Don't forget, I'm just a bastard son. I don't have the qualifications—nor the interest."
Another silence.
After a long pause, Damon suddenly said, "Don't think I don't know. You've been investigating that incident all these years."
Adrian's pupils contracted sharply—then quickly returned to normal.
"What else do you know?" he said in a low voice.
A soft, humorless chuckle came through the receiver.
"Kid, I'm still your father no matter what. You've laid low for ten years. You might fool others, but you can't fool me. Oh, by the way, I just saw the news. Your little wife seems to be running off with someone else."
Damon's voice carried lazy contempt.
"Son, that romantic love is just something for the lower classes to chase when they're bored. You shouldn't make such a low‑level mistake. There's no woman in this world money can't buy."
"I prepared a big gift for you. Harborhaven's diamond—**Seraphina Vale**. Want her? Come back and you can marry her immediately."
Adrian sounded uninterested. "Lower classes, huh?"
Damon sighed theatrically. "Enough with the insults. At least leave me some dignity, you little brat. This is a one‑time offer. I'll give you a week to think about it."
He paused, then added, more quietly:
"And a reminder—the Cole family is vast with extensive connections. It might be helpful for that investigation of yours. I'm not trying to discourage you, but with your current capabilities, you might never find out the truth in this lifetime."
Adrian was silent, mulling it over for a long while before saying through gritted teeth:
"Damon Cole… don't you want to find out what really happened back then? Sometimes I really want to cut open your chest and see if you even have a heart."
Damon chuckled, his tone nonchalant. "Don't forget. One week. Offer expires."
Then, with that, the call ended.
Adrian angrily slammed the phone to the ground. His eyes were bloodshot, a hint of moisture welling up.
Brock looked at the shattered phone and wanted to scream—*Why the hell are you smashing my phone when you're angry?*
But seeing Adrian's murderous expression, and considering he was after all the young master, Brock swallowed his anger and continued bowing.
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