As her thoughts drifted to that man, tears sprang to Anastasia's eyes in an instant. Who could have ever foreseen that the very person she had spent so long evading—who had even suffered betrayal at her hands—would ultimately turn out to be the sole person who genuinely cared for her? She had lived in fear of him, had fled from him, and even sold him out without a second thought. She had borne witness to the fall of the once untouchable Mr. Lancaster, and now, in a cruel twist of fate, he had sacrificed everything to save her life. Anastasia fought valiantly against the flood of grief that threatened to consume her. On this very day in her previous life, she had allowed her conniving stepsister Penelope to convince her to elope with Aaron. But now, as she glanced up into the rearview mirror, she met Martin's startled gaze, her eyes blazing red with unresolved emotions and simmering fury. Martin, she recognized, was one of Penelope’s loyal minions. Martin, clearly shaken, stammered, “Alright—alright, I get it!” His voice wavered as the realization of her inner turmoil became palpable. Just then, her phone vibrated insistently in her pocket. With a hesitant hand, she retrieved it. [Penelope: Anastasia, don’t worry about leaving with Mr. Lancaster. I’ll take care of everything else for you!] A chill swept across her heart, burning with cold disdain. Without a moment's hesitation, she shut off the phone, her resolve hardening as the car slid toward the looming gates of Rosewood Manor. The closer they drew to that imposing establishment, the more chaotic her thoughts became, swirling like a tempest within her mind. Twenty agonizing minutes later, they finally arrived at the grand gates. Inside the manor, a tall figure loomed in a wheelchair, his intense gaze fixed unwaveringly on the car that had just come to a halt below. “Mr. Lancaster, Ms. Anastasia Sterling has arrived,” Logan murmured quietly, standing dutifully at his side. Harrison, his eyes narrowed, asked in a low voice, "How many does that make this month?" Logan hesitated, the weight of their recent history hanging heavily in the air. “...She’s the fourth.” Since Mr. Lancaster had publicly proclaimed his quest for a wife upon his arrival in Fairhaven, four women had already stepped into this fray with him this very month. The first had lasted a week before meeting her tragic end. The second had crumbled into despair after just two days, her sanity unraveling before their eyes. The third had never made it through the front doors; she was in such a state of panic that she threatened to leap from the windows rather than succumb to the mismatched union. Lady Lancaster, it seemed, had grown increasingly desperate. But hadn’t Mr. Lancaster already informed the Sterlings that the long-standing arrangement was off? So why, in the world, had Ms. Anastasia Sterling still chosen to come? With his terrifying reputation, most women would bolt at the first whisper of his name. Yet, here she was, marching straight into the lion’s lair, her resolve strikingly remarkable. “Come on, let’s see her,” Harrison commanded in his deep, measured voice, breaking the heavy silence that enveloped the room. Meanwhile, Anastasia perched nervously on a plush sofa, her suitcase by her side, the tight knots in her stomach twisting painfully as she awaited her fate. The elevator chimed overhead, and her heart raced, soaring into her throat as she braced herself. As he appeared, Harrison looked regal even from his seated position. He was pushed forward by an attendant, yet the injury that confined him to this wheelchair hadn’t diminished the striking handsomeness that exuded from him. Still, his pallor revealed a vulnerability that clung to him, a reminder of the recent tragedy that had marked his life. Yet, even now, a powerful aura radiated from him, supplanting any facade of frailty. Anastasia stood abruptly, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears, guilt threatening to pull her under. Harrison's brow furrowed, his expression shifting from curiosity to an enigmatic coldness. "Someone escort Ms. Sterling home," he ordered flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument. Another girl coerced by her family, he thought, reflecting on the desperation of his situation. He was not so deeply yearning for a wife that he would force a woman to remain against her will. “Wait!” Anastasia exclaimed, her voice rushed with urgency as she stepped forward, panic tinging her words. He turned, and in his dark eyes she saw a depth that was both mystifying and intimidating. “Yes?” Even seated, he emanated a commanding presence that was nearly frightening. “I—I’m already your wife. I’m not leaving. I want to stay.” Her voice rang out clearly, unyielding in its proclamation. There was no wavering in her words; she owed this man far too much. If fate had bestowed upon her a second chance at life, then perhaps this was the turning point she needed to make things right. How could she walk away now? How could she abandon him when she had finally grasped the truth only after it was too late? The heaviness of regret settled in her throat, constricting her voice. Silence enveloped them, thick and heavy. "Stay?” For a fleeting moment, confusion rippled through Harrison. Had he truly heard her correctly? Women always viewed him through the lens of a monster; she was the first to express a desire to remain. In her vibrant, beautiful eyes, he detected no reluctance—only nerves, uncertainty, and an emotion that hovered closely to guilt. Something inside him stirred at the sight, a warmth he hadn't anticipated. After a tense, breathless pause that stretched painfully between them, he finally spoke.