Aileen’s footsteps as she descended the staircase sounded impossibly light, keeping rhythm with her heart, which now beat in absolute, unyielding control. In the neo-classical dining room, the fragrant aroma of arabica coffee beans drifted through the air. Rehan was already seated at the head of the table, wearing a white dress shirt with his sleeves neatly rolled up to his elbows, busy typing away on his smartphone screen—undoubtedly firing off an instant message to Clara, his mistress.

The moment he heard the sound of Aileen’s footsteps, Rehan quickly looked up. The warm, practiced smile that had always been his trademark immediately curved onto his lips.

"Morning, my dearest wife. Did you sleep well last night?" Rehan greeted her pleasantly, casting a brief glance her way as Aileen approached.

Aileen paused for a fleeting second beside her chair, drawing a quiet breath to quell the surge of boiling rage clawing at her throat. She slipped on her mask of sweetest innocence—the exact same submissive expression she had worn three years ago, before death tore her life away.

"Morning to you too, Rehan. I slept soundly, thank you for asking," Aileen replied softly, her slender fingers gracefully reaching for the porcelain pot to pour steaming black coffee into her husband's ceramic cup. "Here is your favorite coffee, exactly two teaspoons of sugar just the way you like it."

Rehan accepted the cup with one hand. "Thank you, Aileen. You really are the most understanding wife."

The man took a slow sip of his coffee, but a fraction of a second later, a subtle frown creased his forehead. His sharp eyes flickered toward Aileen, who had now taken her seat across from him and was casually spreading butter over a slice of toasted bread.

Something felt off. Usually, whenever Rehan offered a sweet smile or a compliment in the morning, Aileen would instantly flush with a shy blush, respond with playful cooing, or even stand up to move right beside him, whining for him to linger over breakfast a little longer. But this morning... she sat with an extraordinarily upright posture, radiating an aura of grace and absolute composure.

Rehan set his cup back down onto the table with a soft clink. "Aileen... is something wrong? Why are you so quiet this morning? Normally, you're the most enthusiastic when we have breakfast together before I leave for the office."

Aileen looked up, blinking her lashes with innocent curiosity as she concealed the cold glint hidden beneath her long lashes. She held Rehan’s gaze steadily—a look that no longer carried the adoring, needy warmth of the past, but a hollow stare that pierced straight down to the bone.

"Ah, nothing is wrong, Rehan. I was simply reflecting on a few things," Aileen said, her voice intentionally gentle, barely drifting above a whisper. "I’ve noticed how exhausted and terribly busy you've been with the company these past few days. I simply wanted to be a more understanding wife and spare you from unimportant nagging."

Rehan froze momentarily. His brows drew even tighter together. Instead of feeling pleased that his wife wasn't fussing over him like usual, an eerie chill crept up the back of his neck. Aileen’s gaze just now... felt entirely too piercing, as though the woman sitting across from him was silently stripping away every single one of his lies.

"You aren't... hiding anything from me, are you?" Rehan probed suspiciously, trying to peer into the depths of his wife's eyes.

Aileen let out a light chuckle—a soft laugh that sounded utterly sweet to the ear yet felt utterly hollow within her own soul. "Hiding what, Rehan? My entire world revolves around you and this home. How could I possibly keep a secret from you?" On the contrary, your secrets are already locked firmly in the palm of my hand, Aileen thought coldly.

Rehan averted his gaze, feeling unsettled by the intensity of her look. He glanced at his luxury wristwatch, then pushed himself up from his chair, hurriedly straightening his shirt collar.

"Ah, whatever the case. I need to head off to the office now. Today's board meeting cannot be delayed," Rehan declared, grabbing his leather briefcase from the dining room sofa. "I'll be extremely busy today, and I might end up returning very late tonight managing Hartono's corporate expansion project. So, don't wait up for dinner, alright?"

In the past, those exact words would have caused Aileen to sulk, cry hysterically, or beg her husband to spare even a single second of his time for her. But this time... Aileen's reaction completely caught Rehan off guard.

Aileen merely gave a graceful, understated nod, calmly biting into her piece of toast without the slightest hint of disappointment on her face. "Very well, Rehan. Work with a clear mind. Don't overwork yourself at the office—your health is what matters most to the company."

Rehan froze right at the front doorway. His steps came to an abrupt halt. He whipped his head back, staring at Aileen in sheer disbelief. No protests? No spoiled whining? This unusual, unnerving calmness from Aileen unsettled him deeply, making him feel as though some invisible leash had suddenly slipped right out of his grasp.

"You... you're honestly not mad that I'll be coming home late again?" Rehan tested her with a hesitant tone.

Aileen looked up, offering a subtle, enigmatic smile that instantly made Rehan’s skin crawl. "Why would I be angry? I trust that my husband is working hard for our shared future, isn't he?"

Rehan swallowed hard, his throat feeling bone-dry. He forced a stiff, awkward nod. "R-right... In that case, I'll be heading out."

The main door clicked shut with a soft, final thud.

Inside Rehan's private study on the second floor, absolute silence descended the moment the man departed.

Rehan stood before his desk, tossing his leather briefcase roughly onto the chair. He massaged his temples, which had suddenly begun throbbing with pain. Something was terribly wrong with Aileen today. That drastic shift in her demeanor genuinely grated on his nerves, leaving him with a gnawing suspicion that she was harboring a massive scheme beneath that sweet smile of hers.

No, I mustn't be paranoid, Rehan told himself, trying to steady his own nerves as he walked out of the room toward the garage. Aileen remains a foolish woman who loves me to a fault. She will never discover my rotten plan with Clara.

Yet, what Rehan failed to realize was that upstairs, inside the master bathroom, Aileen was staring at her own reflection in the mirror with an exceptionally sharp, chilling smirk.

The bathroom faucet ran full blast, washing away the water from Aileen's hands. She shut off the tap, fixing her narrowed, calculating gaze on her own reflection. The submissive wife persona had been deployed flawlessly to stoke her husband's paranoia, while the foundation of Rehan's ruin was being laid stone by stone.

"Enjoy your freedom at the office today, Rehan," Aileen whispered to the mirror, her voice dripping with lethal, glacial coldness. "Because starting today, the only thing you will truly own in this world... is total, unmitigated bankruptcy."

Her slender fingers reached for her personal phone, opening a secure encrypted messaging app to type out a short message to her late father’s trusted attorney:

“Hello, Mr. Herman. Could we meet in secret today? There are critical documents regarding Hartono's corporate assets whose full legal rights I need to revoke immediately.”

She pressed send. The deadly game of chess had officially commenced, and Aileen had no intention of letting Rehan’s deceptive pawns take another single step forward.