A splitting hangover headache ensured that Sebastian did not wake until noon the following day. He opened his eyes to find himself lying in the guest room of "Eden." Mia was already gone from his side. On the nightstand sat a card imprinted with a lipstick mark: "I've gone to the company to keep an eye on that 'old hag' for you. Love you." Sebastian rubbed his temples as his memory slowly returned. Last night... it seemed he had left Elena alone at the charity gala. A wave of intense guilt washed over him. Although his friends spoke harshly, he knew in his heart that Elena was innocent. To be abandoned in such a setting for the sake of his reputation—she must have suffered greatly. "Damn it." Sebastian cursed under his breath and quickly rose to dress. He had to go back and coax her. Based on past experience, as long as he bought some expensive gifts and said a few sweet words, Elena would forgive him. She was always so easy to placate, so magnanimous. On the way home, Sebastian made a special detour to a top-tier patisserie and bought Elena’s favorite French caramel cream puffs. He then called the florist and ordered 999 red roses, demanding they be delivered to the penthouse immediately. Having done all this, he felt considerably more at ease. The Aston Martin pulled into the underground garage, and the private elevator whisked him directly to the top floor. The moment he pushed open the door, he was greeted by a deathly silence. "Elena? I'm back." Sebastian changed his shoes and walked into the living room carrying the dessert box. No response. The living room was empty. The curtains were drawn tight, blocking out every sliver of light. The air was permeated with a cold, deserted scent, as if no one had lived there for a long time. "Still angry?" Sebastian muttered to himself, shaking his head with a smile. "Such a childish temper." He placed the dessert on the coffee table and turned toward the bedroom. Pushing open the bedroom door, he found the bed made with meticulous precision, showing no signs of having been slept in. "Elena?" Sebastian’s heart skipped a beat. He turned and strode toward the walk-in closet. The moment he pushed the door open, he froze. The cabinets, usually filled with Elena’s clothes, were now more than half empty. Her seasonal wear, the few evening gowns she cherished—all were gone. On the vanity, the myriad jars and bottles of skincare products had vanished, leaving only the bare, cold marble surface. An ominous premonition, like an icy hand, seized him by the throat. He rushed into the study. On the shelves, Elena’s most treasured out-of-print art books, her sketchbooks, her painting tools... everything had disappeared. Only his dry architectural tomes remained, standing there in solitary confinement. "What... what is going on?" Sebastian panicked. He pulled out his phone and frantically dialed Elena’s number. "Sorry, the subscriber you dialed has powered off..." The cold, mechanical female voice echoed over and over in the empty room. Just then, his gaze fell upon the center of the desk. There sat a black velvet gift box, with a pale yellow sticky note attached to it. It was his own handwriting—"10th Anniversary Surprise." It was the "return gift" Elena had given him on the night of the awards ceremony. At the time, she had said: "Open it in two weeks." Sebastian’s hand trembled as he reached for the box. An immense panic engulfed him; his intuition screamed that the moment he opened this box, his world would collapse completely. But he could not control his hand. He tore off the sticky note, untied the crimson ribbon, and slowly lifted the lid. There was no jewelry inside, no watch, no love letter. There was only a neatly folded document. Printed boldly on the cover were the words—"Divorce Agreement." And at the very bottom of the document, that familiar, graceful signature pierced his eyes like a sharp blade. —Elena Bennett. Not Mrs. Winters, but Elena Bennett.