Elodie couldn’t help frowning. She really disliked people making decisions behind her back.

Swiping her keycard, she got ready to go inside.

Just then, Jarrod, standing beside her, reached for the doorknob. As his fingers brushed the handle, he tapped it lightly-almost absentmindedly-before glancing over at her. His tone was casual but distant. “Your presentation today was solid. Well done.”

The compliment caught her off guard. Elodie paused, brow furrowing as she turned to look at him.

But Jarrod didn’t seem interested in further conversation. After saying his piece, he disappeared inside.

Elodie blinked, baffled. She couldn’t make sense of him-but honestly, she didn’t have the energy to bother.

She went in, set the flowers aside, took a shower, and, like clockwork, swallowed her daily medication.

Yet sleep eluded her. Restless, she opened her laptop and spent some time organizing her notes on the military project she’d been assigned.

Time slipped by unnoticed. By the time she rubbed her aching neck and finally decided to get some sleep, it was past eleven.

She’d barely sat down when a familiar ache began to twist in her abdomen.

Her body knew this pain far too well.

Instinctively, Elodie curled her knees to her chest, waiting for the wave to pass. Any trace of drowsiness vanished. Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead.

After a long while, she lay down and closed her eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. Her body felt heavy and unsettled. She tossed and turned before giving up altogether.

She got out of bed and rummaged around for her swimsuit. If she couldn’t rest, maybe a soak in the herbal hot spring would ease the discomfort.

It was nearly half past eleven. The estate was sprawling, and most people were still gathered on the other side for a late-night party. Over here, by the hot springs, it was quiet-almost eerily so. No one else was around.

Elodie’s swimsuit was far from modest-a lake-blue bikini that made her pale skin look almost luminous. In the past, her marriage to Jarrod had been distant at best.

Esmeralda, ever the schemer, once insisted, “Come on, he’s still a man. Try spicing things up.” Esmeralda had even bought her a collection of daring swimsuits, lingerie, and all manner of sleepwear designed to rekindle romance.

Elodie remembered mustering the courage, just once, to try it. She’d changed into a particularly risqué nightgown, her whole body tense and flushed with embarrassment.

Jarrod had looked up, barely glancing at her, his face unreadable. He showed no spark of interest at all.

His voice was cool and remote: “If you’re uncomfortable, don’t force it.”

After that, he didn’t spend the night. He took an overseas call and left, not sparing her another glance.

Back then, she had no idea where he went. It wasn’t until the Goldspire seminar, after hearing Maurice mention the timeline of Jarrod and Sylvie’s relationship, that she realized Jarrod had flown out that same night-to see Sylvie.

Ever since his rejection, all the beautiful swimsuits and sleepwear Esmeralda had bought for her sat untouched at the bottom of her suitcase.

Now, though, she dressed up for no one but herself. Looking good was her own small rebellion.

Elodie slipped into her swimsuit and made her way to the hot spring.

She’d just stepped past the screen, not even fully inside, when she met someone’s gaze from across the steaming water.

Jarrod was there, lounging with an air of lazy indifference, dark lashes damp with steam. He looked up at her, his eyes lingering on her lake-blue bikini.

Elodie’s figure was slender but distinctly feminine, her waist curving in a natural hourglass. As she stepped into the golden light, her skin seemed to glow.

For a moment, Jarrod stilled-almost imperceptibly.