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Zain’s unexpected question caught Joanna off guard.
After a beat, she worked out his intentions.
Before Joanna could respond, Zain locked eyes with her through the mirror’s reflection. “Don’t you want
to?”
Joanna rushed to clarify, “It’s not that. I’m just wondering… I’m not her biological mother. How can I step into her real mom’s shoes?”
Zain gently untangled her hair from the zipper, smoothing the strands as he spoke. “Carry loves you to pieces, and truthfully, you’re more maternal to her than anyone.”
The smile vanished from her face the instant Zain
posed the question.
She’d endured so much to hear those words, yet now that the moment arrived, joy eluded her completely.
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Stepping into the role of stepmother was only the beginning–what about her own ambitions?
Noticing Joanna’s distant expression, Zain called softly, “Joanna?”
Joanna returned to the present and whispered, “Am I really capable of this?”
Zain’s warm smile reached her through their mirror
reflection.
“Absolutely, Joanna.”
At his response, Joanna dropped her gaze and whispered, “Okay.”
Her thoughts churned wildly, yet happiness remained
absent.
Choosing Zain would mean sacrificing her personal dreams.
Once, she’d written her deepest desire on a wish boat -to be cherished by every man alive.
Was Zain really worth giving up the entire forest for just one tree?
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As she began imagining endless possibilities, Zain interrupted unexpectedly. “Though I have one requirement.”
Joanna’s eyes widened before she asked, “What’s
that?”
Zain held her gaze in the mirror. “Carry stays our only child. Just her–no additions.”
Joanna fell silent.
Seeing her quiet response, Zain didn’t press further. He simply said gently, “Take your time deciding.”
Zain exited the fitting room.
Joanna remained alone before the mirror, internally
conflicted.
Marriage to Zain promised luxury and security.
Staying single meant continuing to bask in countless
men’s adoration.
Honestly, Joanna felt reluctant about becoming a stepmother.
Her kindness toward Carry was purely performance.
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Yet with Zain laying out his terms, she wondered–if she refused, would he withdraw all the care he’d shown her?
After departing Jacob Group, Ophelia’s bitter mood drove her to the mall for retail therapy.
Arms full of shopping bags, she entered the elevator. On the fourth floor, she spotted a middle–aged woman wearing a facial mask.
Based on the woman’s build and skin tone, Ophelia estimated she was around fifty.
Standing in the elevator, Ophelia couldn’t stop thinking about Blanche and Vincent.
The longer she brooded, the angrier she grew, until she muttered, “Disgusting homewreckers.”
“Vincent, mark my words. Eventually, I’ll make you suffer,” Ophelia snarled.
When the elevator opened, Ophelia remained lost in her tirade about Blanche and Vincent. The
middle–aged woman behind her, seeing she wasn’t
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moving, tapped her shoulder lightly. “Pardon me, but I need to exit.”
Ophelia spun around, enraged that someone dared touch her. “Do you have any idea who I am? How dare you speak to me that way!”
The middle–aged woman rolled her eyes at Ophelia before removing her facial mask.
When her true face emerged, Ophelia froze momentarily before snapping, “You!”
Standing before her was Lucia, Vincent’s mother.
The Jacob and Aarav families maintained constant
hostility, and even their associates couldn’t resist exchanging cutting looks.
Lucia fixed Ophelia with a hard stare, lowering her voice. “Well? Moving aside, or do I need to ask twice?”
Ophelia reluctantly stepped away, muttering coldly, “Just my rotten luck.”
She made no effort to whisper, and Lucia heard every word.
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Lucia stopped beside Ophelia, her expression icy. “When your heart’s corrupt, everything appears corrupt,” she snapped.
Ophelia shot back, “Lucia, you should control your son better. He’s pursuing Zain’s wife. Even if Zain doesn’t want her, she’s his concern–not someone for your son
to touch.”
Lucia merely smirked. “Why shouldn’t he? He’s got the talent–that’s reason enough.”
Ophelia’s face paled further with rage. She pointed at Lucia accusingly. “You’re equally shameless!”
Lucia gave her a cold look. “You can barely form coherent sentences yet you keep talking? Seriously, do you actually think you’re special? I ignored you because you’re beneath my notice, but apparently you’re getting too comfortable.”
Ophelia’s fury spiked so intensely she nearly fainted from anger.
Observing her condition, Lucia laughed. “Can barely stay upright, yet you want to lecture me about my son? Please. My son follows the right path—and being
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someone’s lover, so what? At least it’s with someone he genuinely loves–unlike you. Look how worked up you are! If you collapse from rage, don’t blame me; I refuse to inherit your bad luck.”
While speaking, Lucia moved even farther away, as if Ophelia’s negative energy might actually spread.
Ophelia forced herself to breathe, fighting to control her fury. Once she managed, she glared at Lucia and sneered, “I suppose your son enjoys claiming others‘ scraps?”
Lucia snorted mockingly. “Running out of real
arguments so you resort to personal insults? Jealous that my son actually has courage to pursue what he wants? Well, I’m not just supporting him—I’m actively fighting and competing alongside him.”
Seeing Lucia’s smug expression, Ophelia nearly lost control and wanted desperately to strike her.
But as she raised her hand, Lucia suddenly fixed her with a steely gaze and taunted, “Go ahead, Ophelia, hit me. If you’re truly that brave, then tomorrow, who will control Oakwood–the Jacobs or Aaravs? Are you
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willing to gamble on that?”
Ophelia’s hand froze mid–air, but under Lucia’s icy, challenging stare, she had no option but to lower it.
This time, Ophelia suffered complete and humiliating
defeat.
Watching Ophelia tremble with rage, Lucia smirked and added another barb. “Think your son’s so impressive? Why don’t you send him to be someone else’s kept man–let’s see if he’d actually accept!”
Ophelia seethed but could only retreat, humiliated and defeated.
**Blanche’s POV**
At the hospital…
After Vincent fed me, he remained beside my bed, monitoring my IV drip.
I had already drifted off when Vincent’s phone buzzed with a WhatsApp notification from his mother.
“Mission accomplished. Where’s my reward!” Lucia
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texted.
“Amazing work, Mom!” Vincent responded.
“How’s my future daughter–in–law?” Lucia messaged.
Vincent glanced at me lying in bed, then replied, “She’s healing nicely.”
“How’s the romance progressing? Is she just your mistress, or have you two actually been intimate?” Lucia messaged.
Vincent read his mother’s text and chuckled quietly, then typed back, “Yes, we’ve been together. But I’m not coercing her–that would be criminal.”
“This is challenging. Your path to making her your wife will be lengthy,” Lucia texted teasingly.
“No worries, Mom. She’s cautious, so I need patience and long–term strategy,” Vincent replied.
“Hope you ‘succeed‘ soon,” Lucia sent back.
Lucia deliberately emphasized ‘succeed‘ with quotation marks.
Vincent saw the message and laughed even harder at
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his mother’s playful emphasis.
Being a light sleeper, Vincent’s quiet laughter woke
As I opened my eyes, I saw him grinning with genuine happiness.
I couldn’t help thinking to myself, ‘Probably a text
from Joanna.‘
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.

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