[Flashback]

Five-year-old Ashley looked around the glamorous room, her mouth slightly open in awe.

In the center were several couches surrounding a coffee table.

Marshal sat on one of them, engaged in a discussion with another man. Ashley couldn’t understand what they were talking about. She was too busy admiring the room.

It was the first time Marshal had taken her somewhere with him. Like a father-daughter outing. Because of that, she had been secretly hoping they would get ice cream afterward.

But those innocent thoughts came to an abrupt halt when Scott suddenly stepped forward.

Standing beside her moments ago, he now walked toward the two men.

His footsteps barely made a sound.

Then—

BANG!

Ashley jolted. Her eyes widened in horror.

Scott had approached the men, pulled out a pistol, and shot the other man in the back of the head without hesitation.

The deafening gunshot echoed through the room. A sharp ringing filled her ears.

The man who had been speaking moments ago suddenly went limp. His body slumped onto the couch before rolling onto the floor.

THUD!

The sound pierced through the ringing.

Ashley couldn’t blink. She stared at the motionless body with wide eyes. The color drained from her face as blood slowly spread across the floor.

"This damn fool. Always giving me a headache."

Marshal clicked his tongue and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the blood that had splattered onto his slacks.

He looked completely unfazed. Annoyed, if anything. Rising to his feet, he gazed down at the corpse. Then he spat on it.

"That’s what happens when people forget their place."

His eyes shifted toward Ashley.

The moment they met hers, she instinctively fell onto her backside.

There was no concern in his gaze. No affection. No instinct to comfort a frightened child.

Nothing.

"That’s what happens to people who get greedy after a small success." He held her blank stare. "If you don’t want to end up like him, learn how to be useful."

Ashley couldn’t even breathe.

Marshal clicked his tongue and looked away. "Scott."

"Sir."

"Take her with you." He adjusted his cuffs. "Teach her how things work around here."

His gaze never returned to Ashley. "She’s becoming an eyesore at home."

With that, Marshal walked toward the exit. He didn’t look back, not even once.

Ashley sat frozen on the floor. Her lips trembled. Her body shook uncontrollably. Her legs felt like jelly. She couldn’t even stand.

Deep down, she hoped he would return.

Just once.

If that was too much to ask, then maybe — maybe he would at least look back. Maybe he would show a little concern. Anything.

But Marshal didn’t.

The door slammed shut behind him.

And he was gone.

Ashley continued staring at the door.

"Papa—"

"Young Miss." Scott’s voice cut her off.

She looked up.

He stood a few feet away, one hand extended toward her. No emotion showed on his face.

"Let’s go."

Her trembling lips opened and closed. One small hand clutched her chest.

Scott watched her quietly.

"You know your father." His voice remained flat. "He wants you to learn the work."

Ashley lowered her gaze.

Behind Scott, she could still see the dead man through the gap between his legs.

Her stomach twisted.

"If you don’t learn," Scott continued, "you’ll end up like him."

Ashley swallowed.

Then Scott slowly raised his pistol and pointed it at her.

"If you still don’t understand..." His finger rested against the trigger. "I’ll put you down myself."

Tears instantly filled her eyes. Young Ashley broke down sobbing.

As she did, Scott continued.

"Don’t cry," he said coldly. "Get angry. Laugh too much. Feel anything and everything whenever you feel like crying, breaking down, or drowning in your own thoughts. The worse they are, the louder you should be."

He paused.

"It’s easier that way to stay sane." He nodded to himself. "Sometimes, you have to be a little insane to stay sane."

His gaze lingered on her. "You’ll understand that."

A moment later, Scott picked her up and carried her away.

To be honest, Ashley couldn’t remember much of what happened afterward. That day existed in her memories like a blur. No matter how hard she tried, everything beyond that moment remained fragmented.

But she remembered what came after.

From that day onward, she became involved in the Di Carpio operations.

She watched, she learned, she obeyed.

From extortion, bribery, intimidation, to silencing people, disposing of bodies, and cleaning up messes.

That became her life.

Aside from the brief period when she escaped and managed to live independently, she couldn’t remember a single day when she wasn’t working for the Di Carpios.

Until her final mission. The one that nearly killed her. The one that ended with her arrest.

For a short while, she finally lived freely.

Then Scott found her again... and dragged her into another hell she thought she had already escaped.

Who would have thought that new hell would eventually become the place where she found comfort?

Had she known... she would have sought Dominion much earlier.

*****

[Present]

Lucian opened his eyes.

The bedroom ceiling greeted him. Instinctively, he turned toward Ashley’s side of the bed.

It was empty.

His brows furrowed.

"Ashley..."

The memory of last night resurfaced.

Just like always, she had cried quietly. When they returned home, however, she put on a smile. She spent time with Primo, helped him get ready for bed, and tucked him in.

Then she climbed into bed beside Lucian and held onto him throughout the night as though letting go would make her fall apart.

Worried, Lucian got out of bed and went looking for her.

She wasn’t in the bathroom. But the moment he reached the stairs, the scent of toast drifted through the air.

His steps slowed. Eventually, he reached the kitchen.

There she was.

Standing alone and preparing breakfast.

Lucian approached the counter, his eyes fixed on her.

"Oh," Ashley looked up and smiled. "You’re awake?"

She pointed toward the coffee machine. "Wait. I’ll make your coffee. Black, right?"

Lucian let out a shallow breath as she hurried toward the machine.

"Ashley," his voice was quiet.

She paused. After pressing a button on the coffee machine, she returned and stood across from him.

Then she reached for his hand.

"Lucian." Her fingers wrapped around his. "I’m fine."

He frowned.

"Not fine-fine," she corrected with a small laugh. "But I am."

She nodded reassuringly.

"Last night, there were just too many reminders." Her smile softened. "I got emotional."

She squeezed his hand. "But after sleeping on it, I thought about everything."

The smile on her face widened.

"And I realized something."

Lucian listened quietly.

"I really don’t know what to do with myself sometimes." She laughed softly. "Especially when it comes to love."

Her gaze lowered.

"I don’t even fully understand my own hate." Then she looked back up. "But please bear with me."

Lucian’s eyes softened.

"I’m still learning what love or these feelings I carry actually are." Ashley squeezed his hand again. "But I’ll work hard."

Her smile brightened.

"I’ll work really hard to understand them." She tilted her head. "So, please bear with me."

"And don’t worry too much about me." A playful grin appeared. "I’ll try not to outshout them."

She squeezed his hand. "Whether it’s love, hate, anxiety, jealousy, sudden surge of happiness, or anything else... I’ll sit with it. I’ll try to understand it instead of drowning it out."

Her smile softened.

"I think that’s what I’m supposed to do, right?"

Lucian stared at her. Part of him felt relieved.

She had already climbed out of last night’s darkness. Yet another part of him felt an ache he couldn’t explain.

He tightened his grip around her hand. "I’m here."

The words were simple, but they carried everything.

If she needed him, he would always be there.

If she told him she wanted Marshal dead, he would do it.

But until she made that choice herself, he wouldn’t take that right away from her. Unless Marshal gave him a reason. A very good reason.

"I know." Ashley’s smile turned gentle. "I know."

Her thumb brushed against his hand. "And that’s exactly why I’m grateful."