Lionel stood frozen, his brow furrowed. Every word she spoke was a needle piercing his heart, her cold, deadened tone leaving him feeling hollowed out. Hannah didn''t look at him again, simply turning to leave.


    Quennel stood beside her, taking off his jacket and draping it over her shoulders.


    As they walked away, Lionel clenched his jaw and went after them.


    "Hannah!"


    Her body tensed, and she instinctively leaned closer to Quennel. He immediately wrapped an arm around her, pulling her behind him as he fixed Lionel with a warning re.


    "Are you sure you want to go with him?" Lionel demanded.


    Hannah didn''t answer. The air suddenly felt frigid. She clutched the jacket tighter, the familiar, clean scent of cedar from Quennel''s suit enveloping her, offering a strange sense of security.


    Seeing her huddled behind another man, looking so fragile, sent a wave of destion through Lionel. He strode forward, reaching to pull the jacket off her.


    Before his hand could connect, Quennel''s fist shot out, catching him on the cheek. The blow was so fast that Lionel barely had time to react. He stumbled back, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth.


    "Let''s go," Quennel said, his arm firmly around Hannah''s shoulders as he led her


    away.


    Stunned, Hannah let herself be guided, ncing back at Lionel only to have Quennel gently turn her head forward again.


    "Don''t look at him. He brought this on himself."


    Back at Quennel''s apartment, the housekeeper had already prepared dinner. He ate with Hannah before heading upstairs to give her space.


    Lying in bed, Hannah''s head


    throbbed. She couldn''t tell if it was the wound or the day''s events that caused the pain. Sleep wouldn''tent wasnt until the first hat of dawn painted the sky that she finally drifted off.


    She woke up to find it was already two in the afternoon. When she emerged from her room, the housekeeper had lunch ready. Sitting in the living room was an unexpected guest: Mrs. Mary Rosenberg.


    "Mom? What are you doing here?" Hannah asked, surprised.


    Mary Rosenberg looked her up and down, her gaze lingering for a moment on the gauze on her forehead before turning cold. She gestured for Hannah to sit.


    Even though it was Quennel''s home, Mary''s presence made Hannah feel like an intruder. Mary''s natural air of aristocratic pride was so overwhelming it made Hannah feel small and insecure.


    "Has the car ident been investigated?" Mary asked.


    "Quennel saved me and called the police to handle it. I don''t know the details, but


    at the hospital, I think I heard him say it might be connected to Sandra."


    At the mention of Sandra''s name,


    Mary''s expression didn''t change Instead, she said sharply, "The whole


    world is watching the Rosenberg


    family Don''t you! dare bring shame upon us. Do you understand?"


    Hannah bit her lip. In the past, she would have stayed silent. But now... she was done being a doormat.


    "I understand. But this wasn''t my fault. It was because of Lionel."