Cordelia Bryson left her husband five years ago.
She hadn’t even gone through the divorce procedures when she left—some might call it a runaway in the dead of night.

Still, she would often see his face in the newspapers she subscribed to daily, or on the town bulletin board whenever she stepped outside.

Not to flaunt how striking his face was, nor to remind people that he was once the most promising businessman in the eastern region of the New Continent.

No, it was because of the bounty on his head. An enormous sum of money had been put up for his capture.

Today again, Cordelia sighed as she looked at his face posted on the town board.

‘So they didn’t catch him today either.’

Just as one notice was taken down, another would be pinned up in its place. And every time, the bounty increased. How was that even possible? He hadn’t committed treason against the nation. Could such a reward really be genuine?

“…Lucas.”

Cordelia softly murmured the name written beneath his black-and-white photo. What was the appropriate emotion to feel when someone you once shared a bed with, someone you once loved, was now being hunted as a criminal?

Sympathy? Pacing the floor with worry? That would be the normal reaction, wouldn’t it?

‘But what else am I supposed to feel for someone who lied to me and never trusted me from the beginning?’

He had destroyed Cordelia’s family, and then tricked her into marrying him while she was unaware of the truth. Even if we were to be generous and say that he must have had his reasons, Cordelia was far too worn down.

So when she left him, she chose to forget. Just as she had discarded her old name and her once-noble status.
Now, the only thing that mattered in Cordelia’s life was her child.

She tore her gaze away from the bounty notice and glanced at her wristwatch—only to gasp.

“Oh no, I’m going to be late.”

Cordelia hurriedly hopped onto her bicycle and glided down the quiet streets of the western city of the New Continent.

Compared to the dazzling eastern side, where the great magnates lived, this place might as well be the countryside.

Cars and lemon-colored sidewalks, neatly trimmed boulevards lined with trees, a department store shaped like a three-tiered white wedding cake. The dazzling East—filled with endless parties and social affairs…

But once you crossed the massive lakeside park, you’d be reminded of the other East, overflowing with crime, blood, and poverty.

The memory alone made Cordelia narrow her eyes.

‘…Forget it.’

What mattered now was not being late for her child’s turn in the recital. She had taken a half-day off work, but even so, she’d already missed the opening, and the guilt was suffocating.

How proudly her child had announced that they’d be reciting a poem Mom loved for the competition.
When Cordelia had asked whether they could memorize all seven stanzas, the child had nodded with a showy little smirk.

She was proud of how clever her child was, but whenever she looked into those bright, shining eyes, her heart ached.

That expression, that brilliance—they all came from her husband.

“…Huh…?”

But just as Cordelia reached the school, she froze, breath caught in her throat at the unbelievable sight.

That car up ahead—it wasn’t unfamiliar in the slightest.
Wasn’t that a black, antique-style vehicle produced by Dussen Corp?

‘Coincidence. It has to be a coincidence.’

She knew it was a car her husband particularly liked—but surely not…

However, the moment she glimpsed the faces of the people inside, her heart dropped like a stone.

They were his men.

“Haah…!”

No—no, this couldn’t be happening.

Cordelia couldn’t even think to lock up her bicycle. She just ran, mind blank with panic. If she’d been alone, she would’ve ridden off and escaped in an instant.

But ever since having a child, her every instinct was wired to that child’s safety.

Taking a detour so as not to be seen, she bolted toward the small school’s courtyard.

And of all moments, what reached her ears now was her son’s voice.

“And is that woman her entire crew? Is she… Death itself?”

The voice reciting poetry carried crisply on the brisk autumn wind—clear as a bell.

“Is that woman Death’s companion?”

And between the trees overlooking the courtyard, a tall man stood.

Even though shadows from the leaves draped him in a dark mosaic, she could recognize him.

A broad figure, draped casually in a long frock coat, wide shoulders, and fine platinum-blond hair.

“Whose kid is that? Pretty sharp—memorized the whole thing.”

The lazy lilt in his voice left her breathless.

Was this real?

After five years—was this truly how they met again?
Like this…?

But the man slowly turned his head. A ray of sunlight cut across his left eye, casting a slanted glow over his face.

His eyes were an intense shade of teal that seemed to pull you in. They curved like crescent moons as they met hers.

Although his features and physique were as fierce as a beast’s, his gaze held a seductive quality that gave him an air of decadent allure.

“It’s been a while, my wife.”
“Ah…!”

“Did you forget about me and live well?”

And the moment Cordelia met those eyes, her knees nearly gave out.

“I thought I’d die every day without you.”

Her husband—now a wanted criminal in the New Continent—had appeared before her and their son.