After the event, people had started digging into my background.

It didn’t take long before someone uncovered it—

My father was Johann Sinclair.

Six years had passed since Johann Sinclair’s death. Most younger people no longer recognized his name, but the moment his past investigations were mentioned, everything came rushing back.

He had taken on countless high-profile cases—dangerous, thankless work that others often avoided.

But one by one, he had uncovered the truth behind them.

Over time, his name became synonymous with integrity. With persistence. With justice.

When he died in a car accident, the public mourned him deeply. His memorial service had been crowded, heavily covered by the media.

But time passed.

Six years later, only a few blurred photos and fading reports remained.

Back then, his daughter—still in high school—had been devastated.

And once the attention died down, so did the public’s interest.

There had only been brief mentions that she had been adopted and would continue her studies elsewhere.

Now, the truth had resurfaced.

Alicia Sinclair—

Johann Sinclair’s daughter.

Adopted by the Blackwood family after his death.

With that alone, public opinion began to shift.

Naturally.

With a father like that, it was difficult for people to continue believing the rumors about me being a "mistress."

Especially after what they had seen today.

If that label were true, how could the three of us stand on the same stage so calmly?

How could Lilian speak the way she did?

But of course—

Not everyone was convinced.

Lilian’s fans weren’t willing to let it go so easily.

During the group photo, when she nearly tripped, the moment had been captured perfectly on camera.

After Alexander steadied her, she had glanced in my direction.

The footage didn’t show who stepped on her dress.

But Lilian knew.

And that single glance was enough.

Enough for her fans to draw their own conclusions.

My Twitter notifications exploded almost immediately.

Fortunately, my private messages were still closed—otherwise, it would have been another storm entirely.

I skimmed through a few comments before locking my phone.

Praise or insults—it made no difference.

In the end, it was all just traffic.

A knock sounded at my door.

"Miss Alicia, dinner is ready."

"Okay, I’m coming."

I stepped out of the bath, changed into something comfortable, and headed downstairs.

"Miss Alicia," Maria asked as she set the table, "will Mr. Alexander be back for dinner tonight? Should I prepare something for him?"

"He probably won’t be back," I replied casually. "No need to save anything."

"Understood."

After dinner, I returned upstairs, leaving Maria to clean up.

Once the kitchen was spotless, Maria wiped her hands on her apron and stepped out—only to see Alexander walking in from outside.

He loosened his collar slightly, his tone casual.

"Is it time for dinner?"

Maria froze, clearly caught off guard.

"Mr. Alexander... you’re back?" she stammered. "Miss Alicia said you wouldn’t be home tonight, so I didn’t prepare anything... I’ll make something for you right away."

Alexander paused.

"...?"

A flicker of something dark passed through his eyes.

"Alright."

Without another word, he turned and headed upstairs, his expression unreadable.

The bedroom lights were already dim.

Alicia lay on the bed, her body relaxed as she scrolled through her phone. She hadn’t worked late tonight, and for once, she had gone to bed early.

The sudden sound of the door swinging open broke the quiet.

She looked up, startled.

"You’re back?"

Alexander stopped beside the bed, his gaze fixed on her face, as if trying to read something deeper.

"Didn’t I say I’d be back for dinner?"

Alicia blinked, then let out a small, indifferent sound.

"Oh."

Her eyes dropped back to her phone.

"You usually stay out the whole night," she added calmly. "So I assumed you wouldn’t be home."

Alexander’s lips twitched slightly before pressing into a thin line.

"You saw?"

"Mm."

A brief silence stretched between them.

"I took her to the hospital and came straight back," he said.

The explanation came out almost instinctively.

Even he didn’t understand why he felt the need to explain.

Alicia’s expression didn’t change.

"Oh."

Still the same calm tone. No reaction. No trace of emotion.

Alexander frowned faintly.

Something about this felt... wrong.

In the past, whenever he spent time with Lilian, Alicia would grow distant afterward—cold, sharp, like someone nursing a wound too deep to show.

But now—

She didn’t react at all.

It was as if none of it mattered anymore.

His mind drifted, unbidden, to the events of earlier that day.

At the press conference, when he and Alicia had been paired for that needle-threading game, he hadn’t thought much of it.

But when the roles were reversed—when Alicia arranged for him and Isabella to participate—

A strange irritation had risen within him.

Alicia had stood there, composed and generous, as if she didn’t mind creating intimate moments for her own husband... and another woman.

It should have been what he wanted.

So why did it feel so unpleasant?

A thought surfaced, cold and unwelcome.

Alicia didn’t love him.

She had never loved him.

The one she cared about... was someone else.

"Oh," Alicia said again, her voice steady, pulling him out of his thoughts.

She didn’t question him.

Didn’t accuse him.

Didn’t even pretend to care.

She wasn’t about to feel relieved just because he came home after taking Lilian to the hospital.

It didn’t matter anymore.

Unless he chose to completely cut Lilian off—

There was nothing left to say.

"Alicia."

Her name left his lips before he could stop himself.

She looked up at him, her gaze clear but distant.

"Is there something else?"

"You did well at the press conference today. Really... good job."

The compliment came out strained, each word pressed through clenched teeth.

Alicia didn’t miss it.

As expected—he wasn’t here to praise her.

She sat up straighter against the headboard and looked at him, her tone composed and professional.

"I’m sorry," she said sincerely. "But I did it for the good of the Éclat Beauty brand. Since we already had built-in traffic and buzz, it made sense to push it further and generate more attention for the products."

Alexander’s gaze remained fixed on her.

"And?"

Alicia paused briefly before continuing, "And... I shouldn’t have arranged those interactive games for you. You’re not like those celebrity influencers."

"Anything else?"

She blinked.

Anything else?

Her brows drew together slightly as she searched her thoughts—but nothing came.

After a moment, she simply looked back at him in silence.

Alexander let out a low, humorless laugh, irritation flickering across his face.

"Why did you set up an interactive game between me and Lilian?"

Alicia tilted her head slightly, her expression calm.

"Didn’t you like it?"

His face darkened instantly.

Was that really the point?

Alicia, however, answered without hesitation, her tone steady and matter-of-fact.

"You have a lot of OTP fans. Giving them something to enjoy only helps increase engagement and attention."

For a second, Alexander said nothing.

Then he laughed again—soft, almost disbelieving.

Alicia really was something.

No matter the situation, she could always turn it into a business strategy.

Seeing his silence, Alicia continued, her confidence growing.

"Today’s press conference generated a lot of buzz. I’m confident about the product launch. I don’t think CEO Blackwood should be upset with me."

"You think you have a reason?" he asked, his voice lower now.

"I’m just doing what’s best for the company."

"And you’re not worried about the criticism?"

Alicia met his gaze directly.

"I’m not afraid," she said calmly. "I’ve never been afraid."

The room fell quiet.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Something invisible had shifted between them—something neither could quite name.