"Please... Uncle, don’t do this to me."

"I know I was wrong, I won’t do it again."

Emma Lawrence’s voice trembled as she tried to push him away, almost breaking down while begging for mercy.

She had approached Alexander Grant—her ex’s uncle—on purpose, hoping to use him to get back at Nicholas Grant. That night, she threw herself into his arms, betting on this risky move.

But she seriously underestimated what she was getting into.

Under the soft glow of the chandelier in the presidential suite, her hair was a mess, clothes in disarray. She looked helpless, completely out of control.

Meanwhile, Alexander was still in his sharp suit and tie, not even a button undone.

He had only asked her one question: had she slept with any other man?

Once satisfied with her answer, his mouth—tinged with liquor—crashed down on hers with scorching heat, stealing away every bit of air from her lungs.

His kiss wasn’t gentle, it was fierce, like he needed to own every inch of her. His lips trailed from her mouth down to her neck, like he wanted to consume her whole.

Emma was panicking now. Regret flooded her.

She thought offering herself once would be enough to win him over—one night in exchange for watching Nicholas crumble under Alexander’s heel.

But she hadn’t really thought about who he was.

This man—Mr. Grant's younger son from his third marriage—wasn’t even thirty, and he’d already clawed his way to the top of the Grant family’s empire. Ruthless, sharp, merciless in business, with a reputation that spoke for itself.

Beauty? Completely beneath his concern.

How could someone like him let a woman take advantage of him?

The only reason he’d even looked her way was probably because she reminded him of his first love. That tiny bit of resemblance was the only crack in his otherwise impenetrable shell.

But even that small crack was already too much for Emma to handle.

As Alexander’s burning breath swept over her and his hands moved firmly across her waist, she completely lost her grounding.

She was crying now, panicked and helpless, tears slipping uncontrollably down her cheeks.

Something about her sobs must’ve snapped him back.

His grip loosened, and the tension in his body slowly faded as he forced himself to step back.

Emma instantly scooted to the far side of the bed, frantically adjusting her clothes, eyes wide and filled with fear as she looked at him.

Her eyes were red, clouded with tears—she looked like a little deer caught in a trap.

Alexander took a long breath, the fire fading from his gaze, leaving behind only frustration.

He pressed a hand to his forehead, silently cursing himself for losing control.

Sure, she looked a lot like the girl he once loved, but he’d never let that thought push him this far before.

This was his nephew’s ex-girlfriend, for god’s sake.

And yet he’d nearly… He didn’t want to think about where this was heading.

His eyes met hers again—those deep, dark eyes now sharp and cold."Emma, stop doing stupid things like this again." Alexander stood up, casually adjusting his sleeves. Glancing at her, his voice carried a cool warning, "You're playing a game that's way out of your league."

Emma's heart was still racing, fear lingering in her wide eyes as if she’d just walked away from the edge.

In a tiny voice, she whispered, "Uncle, I'm sorry."

That soft, trembling apology felt like a feather brushing against one's heart—so light yet impossible to ignore.

Alexander let out a deep breath.

Forget it.

The Grant family owed her. On top of that, he had lost control under the influence of alcohol and scared her. At least he could give her something in return.

He pulled out a business card, the gold-stamped name shimmering under the light.

"If you run into trouble later, you can come to me."

Emma stared blankly at the card he set on the table—utter disbelief written all over her face.

Just like that? She got his protection that easily?

She hadn’t given anything... and she'd kept her dignity intact...

It felt so unreal, like she was dreaming. She couldn’t help asking, "Really?"

"Yeah." He replied, grabbing the coat off the chair, draping it casually over his arm. He stood tall and elegant, effortlessly exuding power and class.

"Stay here for the night. Head back tomorrow."

With that, he walked out without looking back.

Emma sat frozen on the bed, dazed. Everything felt dreamlike, her mind struggling to catch up.

Right then, her phone rang.

She picked up, and Olivia's panicked voice exploded from the other side, "Emma, you won't believe this! That jerk Nicholas is marrying your cousin next month!"

Nicholas Grant—the man who used to be her boyfriend for years, and Alexander's nephew.

Hearing that, Emma felt a sharp sting in her chest, like someone had ripped the old wound wide open.

They met in middle school. He chased her until she gave in. They stayed together from high school all the way into freshman year.

Half a year ago, Nicholas was diagnosed with acute liver failure. He was on the brink.

His mother, Mrs. Grant—who never liked Emma—begged her on her knees to donate a portion of her liver, saying Emma was the only one who matched.

Emma didn’t hesitate for a second. She donated half of her liver to save him.

Grateful and tearful, Mrs. Grant said she'd send Emma abroad to recover, and once she got better, they'd hold an engagement for her and Nicholas.

Emma truly believed her. Under Mrs. Grant’s arrangement, she went overseas.

But when she returned half a year later, she found Nicholas and her cousin Sophia together.

She confronted him, trying to understand.

Yet what she got in return was Nicholas shouting with hatred in his eyes. He pointed at her like she was dirt and thundered:

"I must’ve been blind to fall for someone as selfish and shameless as you! You bailed on me when I was dying. If it hadn't been for Sophia donating her liver, I’d be dead! And now you're back, acting all pitiful? You disgust me!"

Emma stood frozen, crushed. That was when she finally realized—it had all been a setup. Mrs. Grant had played her from the start...