Su Ci’s lashes fluttered as the realization struck her: Fu Nancheng was the patriarch of the Fu family. No wonder Su Xue was here, so desperate to reclaim her title as Mrs. Fu. The Fu family was one of Yecheng’s most prominent and secretive dynasties. The entire city buzzed with talk of its current patriarch, a man rumored to be aloof and noble, devastatingly handsome, and the youngest business titan of his generation. Su Xue had dreamed of marrying this patriarch, but when the Fu family came with a marriage proposal two years ago, she was met only with Fu Nancheng—the illegitimate son. And so, Su Xue had forced her to take her place. Su Ci met her sister’s gaze, her own eyes clear and cold. “I know.” Just then, Su Xue reached out and wiped the foundation from Su Ci’s right cheek, revealing a long, hideous scar. The two were identical, save for the scar on Su Ci’s face—a flaw she had to conceal with foundation whenever she played the part of her sister. In truth, Su Ci was just the ugly clown from the countryside; she, Su Xue, was the belle of Yecheng. Just then, a maid announced, “Young Madam, the Young Master is back!” Fu Nancheng was back. Su Xue shot Su Ci a warning glance before smoothing the folds of her dress and gliding forward to greet him, her smile warm and enchanting. The villa’s main door was pulled open, and a blast of biting wind swept in, carrying with it a tall, imposing figure. Su Ci looked up and saw Fu Nancheng. The man wore a bespoke black suit, its expensive fabric impeccably pressed, a testament to his lofty status and cold, aristocratic air. He was also devastatingly handsome, with chiseled features that seemed sculpted by a master artisan. His profile alone possessed the stark, high-fashion aloofness of a monochrome portrait. It was him. The man from the room. Everything from the previous night rushed back in a torrent. The memory of his ragged breaths echoed in her ears, and her long lashes trembled with anxiety as she quickly lowered her head. “Darling~” Su Xue cooed, throwing herself toward him. “You were so rough with me in the hotel room last night~” She never reached him. Fu Nancheng’s hand shot out, his fingers locking around her slender arm. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, plotting against me,” he said, his voice like ice. “If you have a death wish, just say the word.” Su Xue felt as if her arm would snap. She stammered, “D-Darling, please, let me explain! It… it was the Old Madam! She was pushing for us to consummate the marriage, so she drugged me. She’s the one who gave me the key card to your room. I’m a victim in all this, too…” The Old Madam again. Fu Nancheng’s lips thinned in displeasure. Watching from an inconspicuous corner, Su Ci’s heart pounded with fear. She had long heard the stories about the Fu family’s patriarch: a ruthless and domineering force in the business world, a man who could command markets at will, utterly devoid of mercy. He was a figure whose very name struck terror in his rivals. If he found out she was the one who had slept with him, she would be doomed beyond redemption. Su Ci turned, desperate to escape. Just then, Fu Nancheng’s sharp senses caught the movement. His head snapped up, his gaze instantly locking onto Su Ci’s slight figure. “Stop.” Su Ci froze, her heart hammering against her ribs. Did he know? Fu Nancheng strode toward her, closing the distance in a few long steps. “Who are you?” he commanded. “Look at me.” The man’s oppressive presence was overwhelming. Su Ci’s fingers curled into her palms as she slowly, reluctantly, lifted her head. The first thing he saw were her eyes—impossibly clear, with a glistening, fractured light in their depths. They were cold, yet alluring. Fu Nancheng’s gaze darkened. Those eyes were just like the girl’s from the room—brimming with moisture, so fragile they looked as if they might dissolve at a touch. Instantly, his gaze turned sharp as a blade. “It was you.” Damn it. He recognized her.