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The moment Winona stepped through the front door, slipping off her shoes in the foyer, an overwhelming physical and emotional exhaustion slammed into her.

Glancing up, she froze at the sight of Zachary sitting quietly in the dimly lit living room.

The brutal confrontation at the cemetery felt like a lifetime ago. The angry red handprints had already faded from their skin, but just making eye contact sent a phantom sting pulsing across her cheek.

Refusing to acknowledge his existence, she pivoted and headed straight for the stairs.

He broke the silence with a frustratingly casual drawl, "You're back."

He didn't demand to know where she had been all day, offering a mundane greeting as if they were a perfectly normal, happily married couple.

Which they absolutely were not.

"Winona, did you eat yet?"

She stopped dead in her tracks, her head whipping around to stare at him.

Instead of his usual suffocatingly strict three-piece suit, he was dressed in a relaxed black loungewear shirt, the top three buttons casually undone to reveal the sharp, masculine line of his collarbone. Slouching slightly in his wheelchair, he looked sinfully gorgeous and impossibly aloof.

There was something about his effortless, untouchable demeanor that always managed to light a furious spark in her chest.

So she deliberately jabbed back. "Does your face still hurt?"

He had been hovering around the estate so much lately that she almost forgot how entirely absent he had been during their actual marriage. Back then, they technically shared a roof, but the only time she ever felt his presence was when he slipped into bed late at night.

Seeing him loitering around the house tossing out passive-aggressive remarks genuinely made her wonder if the Shaw Group was on the verge of bankruptcy.

"It's fine. Doesn't hurt."

He sat up perfectly straight, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "What about you? Does yours?"

It wasn't a question born of concern; it was a blatant provocation.

Grinding her teeth, Winona decided he wasn't worth the breath and stormed up the stairs.

After a scorching hot shower, her stomach let out a hollow growl, reminding her that she had survived the entire day on pure adrenaline without a single bite to eat.

She blew out her hair and wandered back downstairs, surprised to find five different gourmet dishes—all her absolute favorites—meticulously arranged on the dining table.

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