The morning sun bled through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the estate, casting long shadows across the white marble floors. Jannah sat at the massive dining table, her small frame swallowed by the high-backed velvet chair. She poked at her breakfast—a spread of exotic fruits and delicate pastries that felt like ashes in her mouth—while her mind replayed the venomous exchange from the night before.

The silence of the hall was shattered by the clicking of high heels. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

Joanne walked in like a gale of summer wind. She was breathtaking—a vision of golden-tanned skin, honey-blonde waves, and a dress that clung to every lush, expensive curve of her body. She was the literal embodiment of the "type" Dorrent had taunted Jannah with hours earlier. Joanne moved with the practiced ease of someone who belonged in rooms this grand, her eyes sweeping over the dining hall with a casual, regal indifference.

Her gaze landed on Jannah. Her perfectly manicured eyebrows arched in a look of mild, unconcerned curiosity.

"And who are you?" Joanne asked, her voice like silk over glass. She didn’t wait for an answer, her eyes already drifting toward the grand staircase as if Jannah were nothing more than a piece of misplaced furniture.

Before Jannah could even part her lips to speak, a deep, resonant voice cut through the air from above.

"She’s a new house maid, Joanne. Don’t mind her."

Dorrent was descending the stairs, looking every bit the untouchable S-tier CEO in a charcoal three-piece suit. His hair was perfectly styled, his jaw clean-shaven, and his expression a mask of cool, professional detachment.

Joanne’s face lit up with a predatory glow. She didn’t wait for him to reach the bottom; she met him at the base of the stairs, throwing her arms around his neck in a tight, possessive hug. "Good morning, Dorrent," she purred, her voice dipping into an intimate, flirtatious register. "You look absolutely delicious today."

Jannah watched, her grip tightening on her silver fork. Dorrent didn’t pull away, but he didn’t lean into the embrace either. He stood rigid, his arms resting casually on Joanne’s waist, his gaze sliding over her shoulder to lock onto Jannah’s. His eyes were cold—deadly cold—flashing a warning so sharp it felt like a physical slap. Don’t. Say. A. Word.

He knew Jannah held the one secret that would shatter the image he had spent years cultivating. To Joanne, Dorrent was the ultimate prize—the powerful, virile alpha who was simply playing hard to get. She had no idea that the man she was clinging to was a hollow king, a master of a domain he couldn’t actually rule.

"Sit," Dorrent commanded softly, gently detaching Joanne’s hands from his neck. "We have a busy day ahead."

He moved to the head of the table, taking a seat as far away from Jannah as possible. Joanne followed him like a moon caught in his orbit, sliding into the chair right next to him. The breakfast continued in a thick, artificial silence. Joanne chattered about a gala in the upper district, her hand occasionally brushing Dorrent’s arm, while Dorrent responded with polite, clipped sentences, his eyes never leaving Jannah for more than a second.

Jannah couldn’t take it anymore. The hypocrisy of it—the way he paraded this woman while treating Jannah like filth—made her blood boil. She stood up abruptly, the legs of her chair scraping against the marble with a jarring screech.

She gathered her plates, ignoring the way Joanne looked at her with a flicker of annoyance, and retreated into the vast, sterile kitchen.

She was at the sink, the cold water running over the fine china, when the swinging doors burst open.

Dorrent invaded. He moved with a speed that left her breathless, his hand clamping around her upper arm and spinning her around. He slammed her back against the tiled wall, his massive frame blocking out the light of the kitchen.

"Listen to me, you little gutter-rat," he hissed, his face inches from hers, his hot breath smelling of coffee and suppressed rage. "If you so much as breathe a word of why you’re actually here in front of her—if you mention being a physician or my condition—I will make sure your grandfather is back on the streets by noon. Do you understand me?"

Jannah looked at him, her heart hammering, but the fear was being replaced by a dark, intoxicating sense of leverage. She saw the desperation behind his anger. He was terrified. The great S-tier alpha was afraid of a "pretty lady" finding out about his condition.

"You’re scared," Jannah whispered, her voice surprisingly steady. "You don’t want her to know that her ’delicious’ alpha is actually just a statue."

Dorrent’s grip tightened on her arm, his knuckles turning white. "It is a matter of professional ethics, Jannah. A doctor does not reveal a patient’s private medical information. It’s the law."

Jannah let out a short, dry laugh, her eyes dancing with a wicked light. "The law? Alpha, look at me. I’m not a registered doctor. I don’t have a medical degree, I don’t have a license, and I certainly don’t have any documents tying me to your ’ethics.’ I’m just a girl from the slums who knows a very big secret. And I can use that information however I want."

Dorrent’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle jumped in his cheek. He looked at her with pure, unadulterated loathing, but he didn’t pull away. He couldn’t.

"What do you want?" he rasped, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low vibration. "Money? You already have millions coming your way."

Jannah leaned in closer, her lips grazing the edge of his jaw, mirroring the way he had teased her the night before. The power dynamic had shifted, and she intended to milk every second of it.

"If you want me to keep your secret from that lady... if you want me to play the ’house maid’ and keep my mouth shut... then you’re going to have to do something for me."

Dorrent’s eyes narrowed into lethal slits, his breath hitching as he stared down at her.

"What is it?"