Isabelle lifted the crystal decanter and poured a glass of red wine for Elena. Her voice carried a natural hint of sweetness, almost coquettish.
"Sister, you're always the best to me. Thank you for throwing such a beautiful birthday party. Next year, I still want to celebrate with you."
Elena looked down at the wine swirling in the glass.
Her eyes were cold.
In her previous life, it was this very glass of wine that had been tampered with.
Not long after she drank it, the drug took effect.
Isabelle had then claimed Elena was drunk and kindly arranged for her to rest.
What happened in between was a blur.
The person Isabelle had arranged—
Had been Adrian.
After the chaos, Elena lost consciousness.
When she woke up, it was already in a hospital bed.
The first faces she saw were Marcus's—full of concern—and Isabelle's—pale, tearful, and riddled with guilt.
Outside the hospital room, reporters crowded the hallway, cameras ready, waiting to broadcast her condition to the world.
The media reports came fast and vicious.
They twisted the truth, claiming she had been assaulted in retaliation by enemies she had offended in business—and that the perpetrators had already confessed to the police.
Soon after, rumors flooded the internet.
Stories about her "chaotic private life."
Accusations of ruthless, unethical business practices.
Within days, Laurent Group's stock price plummeted.
Internally, senior executives defected. Employees whispered and slandered. The company fell into chaos.
Partners chose to terminate contracts, even at the cost of enormous penalties.
Emotionally and physically exhausted, Elena was pushed to the brink.
At that moment—
Marcus stepped forward.
He claimed he would use the power of Sinclair International to help Laurent Group weather the storm.
She had been deeply moved.
Until she later discovered—
It was all part of his plan.
From the moment he returned to Europe, every step had already been laid out.
He was simply waiting for her to fall into the trap.
Adrian's unexpected involvement hadn't disrupted anything.
The men Marcus bribed had firmly insisted they were the perpetrators.
If Elena hadn't discovered that student ID card—hidden in an inconspicuous corner of the bedside table—
She might have truly believed the entire nightmare was nothing more than a tragic accident.
At the time, she had suspected countless competitors.
But she had never suspected Marcus.
They had known each other since childhood.
She had always believed him to be gentle. Upright. Trustworthy.
She never imagined how deep his calculations ran.
Nor did she expect—
That Isabelle and Marcus had already been colluding.
She, who had been clever all her life—
Had suffered a devastating defeat.
"Sister?"
Isabelle's voice snapped Elena back to the present.
Elena had been staring at the wine glass for too long.
Elena lifted the glass and took a small sip.
"Mm."
Isabelle noticed she hadn't drunk much, but she wasn't worried.
There would be plenty of chances.
As Isabelle turned to toast Marcus, Elena leaned closer to Adrian, as if whispering something to him.
In reality—
She calmly wiped the corner of her lips.
Then, without drawing attention, subtly switched the wine glasses.
Adrian watched her movements.
Each small action.
Each calculated step.
His interest deepened.
A moment later, Elena lowered her gaze and leaned back against the sofa, her posture slackening, her eyes half-closed.
She looked drunk.
Completely so.
Isabelle, who had been waiting for this moment, immediately called someone over.
"She's had too much to drink. Help her upstairs to rest."
"I'll do it," Adrian said calmly.
He stepped forward and supported Elena.
She leaned against his shoulder, pretending to lose balance—only then realizing his shoulders were broader than she'd expected.
Solid.
Surprisingly comfortable.
"Then you take Sister with you," Isabelle said, glancing at Elena's seemingly unconscious form.
Her eyes flicked meaningfully toward the people leading the way.
As Adrian helped Elena away, she heard someone behind them laugh lightly.
"Looks like Chairwoman Laurent's tolerance really isn't what it used to be."
Elena's lips curved—just slightly.
Inside the shadows of her closed eyes—
Cold clarity burned.