"You guys serious right now? I just got another bad review. They said our delivery is slow, our attitude sucks, and guess what—someone even gave our delivery service a new nickname. Called it ‘Starve-to-Death Express’ or something!"

"So what? You don’t wanna earn money? Don’t wanna earn it, then leave. Plenty of people lining up to take your spot!"

Outside Harper's Chinese Restaurant, Vincent Harper stood there with his belly stretching his shirt, chewing out two young employees. They both looked pretty ticked off, clearly not buying his lecture.

Lily Morgan happened to walk by at the worst possible moment. Unfortunately, she triggered the landmine.

"Lily!" Vincent barked.

She froze on the spot, spun around with a grin that screamed Please-don’t-fire-me, and said, "Boss, you need me?"

Vincent, a Chinese man in his forties, gave her a quick once-over before saying, "You work fast. From now on, when you're not busy, you’ll handle deliveries."

The two employees instantly exchanged looks, both gloating like they’d just dodged a bullet.

In Eastern State, tipping wasn’t really a must. People eating in usually left something out of courtesy, but delivery? Most just told the courier to leave the food at the door so they didn’t have to tip at all.

So yeah, lots of work, little money. No wonder the others didn’t want the job.

But Lily didn’t hesitate. "Okay."

She had worked way too hard just to keep this job. Complaining wasn’t even an option for her. These days she jumped at every task, even the ones nobody wanted, never whining once.

Vincent had noticed. A flicker of approval crossed his eyes. "Alright, give it a try. If you do well, I’ll raise your pay next month."

Lily nodded even faster this time.

"Deal!"

Right on cue, the cashier at the front desk called out, "Order going across the river! Who’s taking it?"

Lily shot her hand up and rushed inside. "I’ll go!"

The cashier, Yvonne Harper—Vincent’s niece and someone Lily got along with—blinked at her.

"Why you? That’s not fair."

"I volunteered. Across the river, right?" Lily checked the address on the receipt, grabbed the food box, and waved at Yvonne.

"Heading out now."

Yvonne Harper watched Lily Morgan’s retreating figure and couldn’t help shaking her head. “She’s such a dummy.”

Harper's Chinese Restaurant sat in a pretty good spot—right across the river from the wealthy district of W City. One side of the river was all luxury villas, the other was cramped old housing. A narrow, aging bridge linked the two areas, standing right in front of the restaurant.

The bridge looked ancient, like it had survived a whole era. People said it was built nearly a century ago. The road on it was so tight it only fit one car at a time.

This was the first time Lily had ever crossed to the other side since coming to W City. As she walked along the bridge, she glanced up at the row of uniquely designed villas across the river, her gaze stopping on the very first one.

Even though Harper's Chinese Restaurant was a Chinese place, it was pretty popular with locals. The food tasted great, the hygiene was solid, so it wasn’t rare for wealthy Chinese folks—or curious tourists from T country—to order delivery.

The villa right in front of her now was the exact address on her order.

This guy was a regular. Lily had heard about him from Yvonne several times—apparently some insanely handsome mixed‑race guy.

But only the very first delivery person had ever seen him. After that, no one else caught even a glimpse.

And the more mysterious someone seemed, the more people wanted to know. Everyone in the restaurant was super curious about what this guy actually looked like.

Everyone except Lily.

Lily wasn’t interested in handsome strangers at all. The only thing in her head was finishing the job and getting back as fast as possible.

Stepping off the bridge, she headed straight for the villa on the left—the first house. She circled to the front gate and pressed the doorbell.

A few seconds later, the lock clicked and the gate slowly opened on its own.

She’d heard plenty about this mysterious homeowner. No one ever came to the door for deliveries—the gate just opened automatically, and the delivery person only needed to put the food on the dining table on the first floor.

Lily stepped through the gate. A courtyard stretched out before her, completely empty. Smooth marble tiles covered the entire ground, making the already cold and secretive place feel even more lifeless—almost unwelcoming.

It felt like walking into a spotless, silent cage with no warmth at all.

Pushing down the uneasiness rising in her chest, she forced herself to look away and stopped wandering her gaze. She hurried across the courtyard toward the main entrance.

The door was slightly ajar, left open just a crack.

She pushed it wider and stood at the threshold. One glance at the interior layout made that uncomfortable feeling surge even stronger.

The villa was purely modern in design. The first‑floor hall had no partitions at all—aside from a spiral staircase, the entire space was wide open. From the doorway, she could see everything inside at once.

The place felt almost hollow. Aside from a white sofa sitting quietly by the floor‑to‑ceiling window, there was only a white dining table—and a single matching chair.

It was basically telling anyone who stepped inside, “Yeah, you’re not welcome here. Don’t even think about sitting down.”

What threw her off even more was that the entire first floor had no other windows. Just that huge wall of glass facing the river—everything else was sealed shut.

A cage.

That word popped into Lily Morgan’s mind again, making her shiver a little.

“What a weird guy…” she muttered inwardly, though she sped up her pace as she entered, putting the takeout box neatly on the table.

The table was just as bare—no decor, no little trinkets—only a single banknote left out in the open. A tip for the delivery.

She glanced at the bill. Fifty.

Her inner complaints instantly vanished.

Who in the world calls someone this generous a weirdo? Clearly he was a great person. A very great person.

Pocketing the money, she raised her voice toward the staircase. “Your order’s here! Enjoy!”

The moment the words left her mouth, she spun around and practically speed‑walked right out of the house, not planning to stay another second in this cage‑like space.

Upstairs, in a room so white it almost felt unreal, a few strands of black hair peeked out from the mound of blankets.

His hair was glossy, untouched by any chemicals, the dark color standing out starkly against the pure white sheets.

A sudden unfamiliar voice echoed through the quiet room, jerking the half‑asleep man fully awake. He lifted his head, revealing skin so pale it almost lacked color, and features as sharp as if carved from stone.

Long fingers brushed away the hair covering his eyes. Thick, dark lashes trembled once before he opened them.

His deep eye sockets held a pair of emerald‑green eyes.

Like a pool hidden in a shadowed forest—dark, still, and quietly dangerous.

Ethan rubbed his temples. Being pulled out of sleep replaced whatever drowsiness he had with a sharp, irritated edge. He pushed himself upright, tossed off the blanket, and stepped onto the cold, spotless floor, heading out of the bedroom.

He leaned on the second‑floor railing and glanced down. No one in sight, just a familiar takeout box sitting on the otherwise empty table.

His eyes cooled. He turned and walked into another room—this one filled with computer screens, each displaying a different surveillance feed.

He sat down, grabbed the mouse, clicked a few times, and all the screens jumped back to the footage from several minutes earlier.