"Night shift at DL?" Damien frowned slightly, clearly not understanding why he would suddenly be heading there.

Seeing the confusion on his face, Cecelia explained, "Aren’t you a model at DL?" She hesitated. "I think your stage name was... Zeke?"

Could this be something he didn’t want people to know? The thought crossed her mind. But on the morning they registered their marriage, he had casually walked out wearing what she had assumed was his work uniform.

Damien paused. Then it clicked. The coat he’d thrown on without a second thought had somehow become proof of his profession in her mind.

What kind of conclusion was that?

He was the president of Vaughn Group. The heir to Veridia’s most powerful family. Did he really look like some handsome nightclub model making money off his appearance?

Just as he was about to correct her, the vehicle suddenly jolted violently.

THUMP.

The truck swayed. The steering wheel jerked sideways.

Fortunately, Cecelia wasn’t an inexperienced driver. She tightened her grip on the wheel and calmly guided the vehicle toward the shoulder. A few seconds later, the truck came to a controlled stop.

"I think we have a flat tire." She immediately opened the door. "I’ll check."

Rain poured down relentlessly as she circled the vehicle. It didn’t take long to confirm the problem. The front-left tire had blown. Given the age of the truck, she wasn’t particularly surprised.

Luckily, there was a spare tire and a full set of tools in the back. Returning to the passenger side, she opened the door and lightly tapped Damien’s shin.

"We’ve got a flat." She pointed underneath his seat. "The toolbox is under there." Then she added, "Can you pass it to me?"

Rain hammered against the windows. In just a few moments, Cecelia was already soaked. Damien frowned. "You’re going to change the tire yourself?"

"I’ve never done it before." She shrugged. "But I’ll figure it out." Then she held out her hand. "Hurry."

After taking the toolbox, she retrieved the spare tire from the truck bed and rolled up her sleeves. Then she suddenly remembered something.

"Oh." Opening the driver’s door again, she looked at Damien. "I forgot the hazard lights." She pointed toward the dashboard. "Can you switch them on? I’m not very good at this, so I don’t know how long it’ll take. If you’re in a hurry, you can leave first." She handed him the umbrella. "Take this."

Damien’s gaze swept over her. The rain had completely soaked through her white blouse. The fabric clung to her skin, almost translucent. The outline of her undergarments was faintly visible beneath it. His throat tightened. He looked away immediately. Grabbing the umbrella, he stepped out of the truck.

"The rain is too heavy." He glanced at the traffic rushing past. "And visibility is terrible." Then he said firmly, "Call roadside assistance."

Of course, Cecelia already knew that. But roadside assistance wasn’t free. At this hour, the emergency service fee would be even higher. She had only just started earning a little extra money. The last thing she wanted was to spend it all on a tire change.

"It’s fine." She knelt beside the wheel. "I’m already soaked anyway." Without looking up, she added, "If you’re in a hurry, just go." Then she got to work.

She had come straight from the office to the market stall. Her white blouse was tucked into slim black trousers. Now both were drenched, clinging tightly to her body.

Completely focused on the task, she never noticed that she was facing away from Damien. Or that the position emphasized her long legs and curved figure far more than she realized.

Damien stood there silently. Watching. Then he felt something unfamiliar.

A rush of heat. A reaction.

Since that night four years ago, no woman had stirred his interest. Not even Claire. Not even when she’d been standing right in front of him earlier.

So why was this soaking-wet woman kneeling beside a truck suddenly having that effect on him?

He needed to leave. That much was obvious. But he couldn’t leave her here alone. The rain was too heavy. The visibility was too poor. One careless driver, and she could be seriously hurt.

After a long moment, Damien rolled up his sleeves. Then he walked over. He held the umbrella over her head, grabbed her arm, and pulled her to her feet.

"Hold this." He handed her the umbrella. "Watch for traffic." Then he crouched beside the tire. "I’ll do it."

Cecelia instinctively wanted to refuse. But when she met his gaze, she found herself stepping aside without argument. She tried her best to keep the umbrella over him. It didn’t help much. The rain soaked through his clothes within minutes.

Damien frowned but continued working. Efficiently. Methodically.

Jack up.

Wheel off.

Spare on.

Bolts tightened.

Everything was done in a matter of minutes.

By the time he finished, he was completely drenched. Ignoring his discomfort, he got into the truck, tested the vehicle, and confirmed everything was working properly. Only then did he gesture for Cecelia to get in.

This time, she took the passenger seat. For some reason, guilt was beginning to settle in.

Seeing Claire with him had certainly lowered her opinion of him. But objectively speaking, Damien had never actually done anything wrong. If anything, he’d helped her repeatedly over the past few days.

Besides, he couldn’t possibly know about her history with Claire. And he had every right to spend time with whoever he wanted.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized she’d probably been too harsh on him earlier. Even the money she’d accepted suddenly felt heavier in her pocket.

"I’m sorry." She looked at his soaked clothes. "For pulling you away from work. And for getting you drenched."

Damien kept his eyes on the road. "Where do you live?"

"Oh, you don’t need to take me home." Cecelia waved her hands. "Let’s drop you off at DL first." She smiled awkwardly. "Work comes first." Then she glanced around the truck. "I don’t even have a dry towel for you."

Damien ignored the suggestion entirely and continued driving.

Feeling increasingly embarrassed, Cecelia picked up her phone. She unblocked Damien on WhatsApp. Then she transferred the money back. After a moment’s hesitation, she asked, "Can I ask how much you make in a day?"

Damien glanced at her. "What?"

"I mean..." She hurriedly explained. "You’ve missed a lot of work because of me. I can’t just keep accepting your help for free." Then she added, "I don’t have much money. But I can at least pay your daily rate."

Damien had absolutely no idea what a model at DL earned in a day. But if he told her his actual income, she probably couldn’t afford one percent of it. And he certainly didn’t need her money. "There’s no need."

Of course there was. Cecelia hated owing people.

"I’d rather pay." She tucked a strand of wet hair behind her ear. "We’re not exactly close. So it’s better to keep things clear." Then she asked, "Is Claire really your girlfriend?"

Damien’s expression darkened slightly.

Cecelia continued before he could answer, "You saw what happened tonight. We don’t exactly get along." Then she sighed, "It wouldn’t help anyone if she found out we’re legally married." She looked out the rain-streaked window. "So maybe we should get divorced as soon as possible.

"When do you have time to handle Candy’s paperwork? Once that’s done, we can go straight to the courthouse and finalize the divorce." Then she quickly added, "Don’t worry. Claire won’t find out."

Damien’s grip tightened slightly on the steering wheel. Hadn’t she said they would stay married for a month? It had only been a few days. And now she was already talking about divorce.

Because of Claire?

For some reason, the thought irritated him.

Other men seemed to spend their lives trying to get women to leave them alone. So why was it that every woman in his life wanted to get closer—except this one? Or was this just another tactic? A strategic retreat?

"Fine." His voice was unreadable. "Other than Candy’s paperwork..." He glanced at her. "Is there anything else you need from me?"

"No," Cecelia answered without hesitation.

That surprised him.

"What about money?" He looked at her. "Aren’t you short on cash? You don’t need compensation from me?"