When Fate Knocks Again

In a lavish, dimly lit bedroom, a tall, striking man walked toward the bed, where a woman lay sound asleep.

Her face, like a masterpiece, exuded intoxicating beauty even in sleep. Resting on her side with serene grace, every inch of her figure whispered allure.

The man sat at the edge of the bed, his gaze piercing through the dimness and locked onto her.

A fleeting, unreadable emotion flickered across his face before it was quickly replaced by a deep frown. Without warning, he lifted the blanket and leaned in to kiss her lips.

"Mmm..."

Eloise Harper gasped as she suddenly awoke, her breath catching in her chest.

The face before her was so familiar, and the moment their eyes met, the room turned frigid.

"What are you doing here, Tristan?" she asked in surprise.

Tristan was the wealthiest man in Svirleton—a business tycoon, the epitome of success. With the power to shape the business world to his will, he was not only smart but also devastatingly handsome.

His piercing eyes betrayed a brief flicker of irritation, but his face remained a mask of indifference, showing nothing to reveal his true feelings.

"I came home to sleep."

Tristan replied, his tone cold and measured, before grabbing her chin and pulling her into another kiss.

Eloise's anger flared, and with a forceful shove, she pushed him away.

"If the women you sleep with outside can't satisfy you, don't come home looking for attention!"

A sarcastic smile tugged at her lips. "I'm not in the mood to entertain you."

Her gaze was icy as she looked at him. She knew full well how much he despised her. He had countless flings, but for reasons she could never fathom, he insisted on coming back to humiliate her time and again.

His breath was warm against her neck as he leaned in closer. "Eloise... you're my wife, by law. Don't bother pretending to be innocent now. I knew the tricks back then you played to get me."

Before she could snap back with a sharp retort, he silenced her with one more kiss.

"You're shameless!" she hissed, trying to pull away.

He responded with a dark, mocking chuckle.

"I know you love my shameless side. Judging by your reaction, I'd say you enjoy it when I treat you this way."

...

The next morning, the soft sunlight streamed through the sheer white curtains.

Eloise woke up, blinking at the bright light. She reached to shield her eyes, her mind still foggy.

Tristan's scent lingered in the air, yet he was nowhere to be found.

She sat up, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on a blank check resting on the nightstand, an all-too-familiar sight.

Eloise scoffed bitterly. Of course, he never saw her as his wife.

With a quick, angry motion, she picked up the check and scribbled a ridiculously high amount on it.

Just then, her phone rang. Her phone rang suddenly—it was her father, a man she hadn't heard from in three years.

His eager voice filled the receiver.

"Eloise, today is your mother's memorial. Don't forget to bring Tristan when you come back home."

Eloise's lips curled in a sarcastic smile as she replied, "Why are you calling me, dad? Is your investment sinking again, or does my sister want to replace me as Tristan's wife?"

"I'm not coming home today, and I'm certainly not bringing Tristan with me," she added.

There was a pause on the other end of the line before her father's voice returned, smoother than ever.

"Eloise, I know you're still mad about me drugging your wine three years ago. But look at you now! You're Tristan's wife. You should thank me for all the money and power you have today."

His voice oozed with false sincerity.

Fearing she might refuse to return, he added in a colder tone. "If you don't bring Tristan with you tonight, you'll never know where your mother's suicide note is."

A cold fury boiled within Eloise's heart. If she hadn't let her remaining sense guide her to Tristan's bed three years ago, she could have been in a far worse circumstance. Her father might have sold her off to some random old man.

"Fine, I'll bring Tristan, but I want that suicide note today."

Back then, she had drunk the drugged wine because she wanted that suicide note. Little did she expect her father to still use it to threaten her now.

She grabbed a high-necked dress to cover the marks on her neck, then prepared herself, grabbing her handbag and heading out the door.

Outside, she noticed a woman in a black dress approaching her from nearby.

The woman's figure was nothing short of impressive, and her eyes gleamed with superiority. "Mrs. Beckett, do you have a moment?" the woman called out with disdain.

Eloise's gaze was cold as she surveyed the woman. "No."

Over the past few years, Eloise had encountered many women eager to be Tristan's next wife, and this one was no exception.

Eloise opened her car door and started the engine, ready to leave.

But the woman stepped in front of her car, blocking her path. "Mrs. Beckett, I'm pregnant with Mr. Beckett's child! Are you really just going to ignore your husband's child out there?"

The woman's voice was shrill and bold, clearly designed to attract attention of neighbors.

Eloise looked down at the woman's stomach, then smirked, "If you're really pregnant, then go find my husband."

"And just so you know, being Mrs. Beckett isn't a title any mistress can claim. If you want to rely on your child to secure your future, maybe you should keep being a mistress," Eloise added.

The woman, enraged, began to shout insults. "What's so great about you? Everyone knows you only became Mrs. Beckett by scheming your way into his bed! Otherwise, there's no way you can be his wife."

The words hit a nerve. Eloise froze for a moment, then in a fit of fury, stepped out of the car, only to be slapped hard across the face.

The sting of the slap was sharp, and her left ear rang with the impact.

Eloise froze for a moment, but her shock quickly gave way to icy composure. She grabbed the woman's wrist and swung it hard toward her face. The force sent the woman stumbling, crashing onto the cold ground.

Her slender brow arched, her calm expression carrying a hint of disdainful authority. "As you claimed, both of us had been in Tristan's bed, yet somehow, I'm Mrs. Beckett, while you're just a nameless mistress. Interesting？"

A mocking smile curled at Eloise's lips. Meanwhile, the woman on the ground flushed, her tongue tied in silence.

"Be smart," Eloise advised. "Walk away while you can. And if you ever dare show up in front of me again, I'll kick you out of Svirleton."

With that, she cast the woman one final look that was a mixture of disdain and indifference before turning on her heel and stepping into her car, leaving the woman seething on the ground.

Moments later, Eloise walked into the Beckett Group's headquarters.

As she approached the president's office, the door was slightly ajar, and she caught a glimpse of the scene inside: a young woman sitting on Tristan's lap.

Eloise was not surprised when she recognized that the woman was Nora Harper, her half-sister. Nora had spent the last three years throwing herself at Tristan, desperate to join his long list of mistresses.

Leaning against the doorframe, Eloise crossed her arms, debating whether to knock or just let this absurd little show run its course.

Before she could decide, she caught a snippet of their conversation.

"Tristan, you look so tired. Eloise clearly hasn't been taking good care of you."

"If only it had been me in your bed back then. I'd have treated you like a king," Nora purred, her fingers boldly toying with the buttons of Tristan's black suit.

Her off-shoulder dress slipped slightly, revealing pale, smooth skin.

Tristan, however, looked utterly unimpressed. His face remained indifferent, and his dark eyes carried a flicker of disgust as he looked down at her.

He said coldly, "Get off me now. I won't throw you out myself for your sister's sake."

"Tristan, please, just one chance. I can satisfy you more than she can."

Nora pleaded, her eyes shimmering with false tears, her fingers still caressing him.

Eloise strode into the office, the sharp clack of her heels echoed against the marble floors. She pulled a chair and sat directly in front of them.

She crossed her legs with an air of effortless command.　"Nora, you've been trying for three years. Yet somehow, you still haven't wormed your way into Tristan's rotation. Isn't that embarrassing?"

Seeing that Eloise's face was calm and devoid of anger, Tristan's expression grew serious. His sharp, cold gaze dominated the room, suffocating everyone in it.

His expression was unreadable, like a god surveying mere mortals from above.

"Get out," he said flatly, his voice void of emotion.

At that moment, Eloise really wanted to slam the door and walk away.

But since she had already promised to bring Tristan home tonight, she had to follow through. Only then could she obtain her late mother's suicide note.

Her body stiffened as she locked eyes with him. "I'm your wife. Why should I be the one to leave?"

Nora grinned. Her audacity grew even bolder after realizing Tristan had shown Eloise no respect.

"Eloise, you heard him. He told you to leave. You don't want him to be mad, do you?"

"I meant you, Nora Harper," Tristan said coldly. "Leave."

Nora's face turned ghostly pale, then flushed crimson. But hearing Tristan call her by name for the first time in years ignited a spark of hope in her.

With a reluctant, almost defiant glance at Eloise, she left, swearing silently that one day she would replace her.

As soon as the door closed, Tristan reached out and pulled Eloise into his arms. He instantly felt her warmth and fragrance envelop him.

“What happened to your face?”

His eyes darkened with something far more dangerous as his fingers gently traced the fresh red mark on her cheek. "Who did this?"

Eloise sneered. "Who else but one of your mistresses?"

Tristan's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening around her waist protectively. His anger simmered just below the surface, barely contained.

Eloise didn't wait for his response. "Today is the anniversary of my mother's death. I want you to come with me to her grave."

Tristan's earlier displeasure faded. He studied her for a long moment, taking in the black dress that hugged her slender yet sexy figure.

"You want a favor?" His lips curled into a deliberate smile. "Why should I help you?"

"Because I'm your wife," she replied.

His eyes darkened, his aura pressing down on her like a physical weight. "Unfortunately, that's not a good reason to me."

Eloise glared at him.

"Then tell me what you want. Don't play games with me. Just say it."

Tristan leaned in, his fingers brushing her chin. His brows relaxed ever so slightly when he saw the faint love marks he had left on her neck.

His voice dropped to a whisper, smooth and wicked. "Please me. Right here, right now."

She tried to push him away, wanting to get up from his lap, but his grip remained firm.

Eloise's eyes flared with fury. "You're insane!"

There wasn't even a shred of love between them, and she couldn't believe that he was actually asking her to please him now. It hit her how he loved to humiliate her.

"You only have one chance, Eloise."

Tristan gazed at the woman in his arms, as untamable as a wild cat. Like a rose with sharp, unyielding thorns, she had been piercing him for three years without even realizing it.

He pretended to be cold. "If you walk away now, I won't go with you. Not today. Not ever."

Her heart pounded, torn between fury and desperation. The man before her was maddening—arrogant, unrelenting, and entirely too attractive for his own good. But she couldn't walk away, not when her mother's last words lay just beyond her grasp.

She had to know the secret her mother took to her grave with bitter resentment.

Leaning in, her soft lips pressed against his with practiced ease. Those three years of marriage had taught her well.

Clothes scattered onto the floor, the air thick with heat. She lost herself in the sensation of his skin beneath her fingertips, addictive and familiar in the worst ways. Much later, she lay breathless in his arms, caught between the surreal feeling of the moment and how fleeting it might be.

"Eloise, you're still willing to seduce me for the sake of your family? Some things never change, do they?"

Tristan's eyes darkened further. "The Harper Group's stock took a big hit, they're running low on funds, and their attempts to secure financing fell through. Since you've worked so hard to please me just now, I'll be generous. I'll invest in it."

Eloise picked up the clothes scattered on the floor, her voice cold and resolute. "You don't need to invest in the Harper Group. No one would be happier than me to see it crumble into dust!"

"And if you despise me that much, Tristan, stop with the sarcasm. We can get a divorce," she added.