Sham Marriage in Johnson Mansion

Chapter One

The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong.

        'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep.

        "You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming."

        Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light.

        "This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?"

        He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division."

        "The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes.

        "Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month."

        Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?"

        "Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls."

        Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible.

        "If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?"

        Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you."

        "Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know...

        "You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..."

        Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?"

        "Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him."

        Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved.

        "Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others."

        Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever.

        "Tell me what I need to do."

        Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams."

        Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Three

They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown.

        "Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery."

        The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt.

        "He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?"

        Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?"

        "Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world."

        Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly...

        They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps.

        "His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look."

        Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles.

        "The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered.

        As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams.

        "Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?"

        Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls."

        The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David."

        The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away."

        "By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft."

        The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work."

        Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons.

        "Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!"

        Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought.

        With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector.

        "Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..."

        "No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears."

        For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp.

        The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David.

        What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air.

        "Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing."

        The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then...

        They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival.

        "We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you."

        Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne."

        Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."

        As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.

Chapter Four

Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world.

        She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records.

        A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.'

        The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes.

        "We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look."

        The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces."

        "He's attacking multiple targets at once?"

        "No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond."

        Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?"

        "A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty.

        "Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..."

        "I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger."

        She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory.

        "Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago."

        She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight.

        "The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..."

        A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently.

        "He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly...

        She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare.

        "Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power."

        The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map.

        "Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne.

        "Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time."

        "The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..."

        "Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?"

        "It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..."

        "Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?"

        Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others."

        As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had.

        The true game was about to begin.

001: Sexless Marriage!
"Vomit ......"
Outside the Johnson Mansion, an unpleasant sound of drunken vomiting emanates from the bathroom. Lucas Johnson slumps helplessly over the toilet, his suit loose, his tie hanging diagonally on the side of his neck.
"L&ucas RJohn&sMon,' wGhyq ldoQ I! hRave ótFoF tdRos mtShnisc? C)an'tZ ÉhaolAd. $myR liqcunor!,C janTdc IF act zlóicke ,Ix')m )anA oblMd hand XaUtD t*heJ Cdr)iYnQkiOnMg g_am&e ervAeNrsyi time!A Wnhat tchze& heflGl is^ trhRisÉ?'"
By the door, Emily Smith was half leaning against the frame, watching all this, with delicate, picturesque brows, and eyes as clear as deep pools, which at the moment were full of playfulness.
"Cough cough cough ......Emily, can I say less? Now that I am her 'husband', is it necessary to be so blunt?"
Emily smiles slightly, "Sorry, fake husband, seems like I'm thinking too much. Clean up the bathroom later, or she won't have anywhere to go!"
Lfudc)as XrinBseUd (out UhLis cmohuQt_h aMnéd lceaAn(edk baÉcuk agaiFnWsvt stBhe wbóathroom (domorwayu, h.ixs pprTeut)thyt dmarnZdeluiion eGyUeusi bldood&sXhot. sHis reyeJsY mwaNnAdereFdl, psaOw Emily )whwod AwlassL a!rrOaBnJging, tyhet cb_eddinYgÉ, awnSd swehpt éaK igglanOc)e' $aBtj the !cBlJean wGhiQteT c_ahrpeLt,( ha$l(f jloqkiJn.gOlyó .saXiUd:a "UToméorr!ojw( ^iRt wGiqllY be TmBy' Étéusrny )to sAleepn o,nx AthPef floFor,D rpighQt?Y"
Emily raised her head, continued to concentrate on making the bed, and said faintly, "She's having her period, so it's okay to sleep on the floor. Anyway, if she can't get up tomorrow, my mom will ask her, and she'll tell the truth!"
"Okay! Then I'll sleep on the floor, and she'll come to the bathroom to clean up, okay!"
Emily's watery eyes flickered with a sly glint... Lucas' wife, the name rings a bell. But that represents Emily's identity at the moment ......
.Z..M..Z.
'Giving up freedom, for the sake of two people together ......'
Early in the morning, Emily was awakened by the urgent ringing of the bell: "Hello, Sarah!"
"Emily, good morning, did you sleep well?"
EbmirlyY Dgfot uugp,V g.l,aMnTcejd hat tmhDez Uempty flToRopr,' thie cforner éof óhóedr éliJpis ruoses sliCghhtlky$, C".SDaHruah, wUh^atu nddo !you wan.t so eóarlvyK?"
Sarah was the head of her department, and Emily was a little surprised that she was calling before dawn.
"Emily, there's a change in the situation. My son has a fever tomorrow and can't attend the negotiation with I.U. Corp. I want you to go in his place. All the information has been organized and put on his desk; I'll call him if there's any problem, got it?"
After the call ended, Emily froze, staring at the phone for a long time. I.U. is the largest real estate developer in G. City; nearly 80% of the real estate in the city belongs to them. Emily always knew that this project with them is very important to the company. However, Sarah was so hasty to leave it to her to negotiate; of course, she was confused!
Em.ily lYooókezd *ant cher wwdaktncYhU;s wit^ wpas gomnXlRyL *h,alcf LpasQt seWv&eBn.L SjhYe quicklyT wrapszh.etdQ dupy kaYnnd jLuMsNt RojpOeQned thae& b^edfrBoVomp d,oor* wh&e,n fOlyijvli,a Jouhnson ój!uXmJpXed ^ovóert,) "sSis_tecr-NiTn-l!aWwH,M (gNoo*dR nm*ozrnzing!,"x
Olivia is Lucas' twin sister!
Emily looked at Olivia in her lightweight workout clothes and asked, "Went to work out?"
"Uh-huh! Sister-in-law, is my brother not here?"
"!Uhd-Ihutht!"
Emily closes the door and walks to the east side of the building. Olivia follows her cheerfully, "Sister-in-law, how can I survive half a year of a sexless marriage with my brother?"
"Olivia, don't talk nonsense!"
Olivia pouted, "Sister-in-law, he doesn't care about me at all."
EPmiYlOy laughdedP li,ghétl.ya, "óH$owT croIuólKda OhGe powshsiblwy( Rc_aKr_e_ abo.utL me?m I'(m jumsDt éwQatHcDhQing* twheÉ dfSutnX!"
"Sister-in-law, aren't you going to ask him to set me up with some guys? He's been going to the gym lately and..."
"Olivia, it's early in the morning, don’t talk nonsense!"
A stern scolding came from the other end of the stairs. Olivia's face instantly changed while Emily held her forehead and sighed.
H!evlkenn TJFoh'nRs&on,é hrer! cm)oxthZerd-qinH-laéw!Y

002: Is Lucas Johnson Gay?
Helen Johnson walked gracefully down the steps, her meticulously styled features reflecting a sharp demeanor.  
“Mom, why am I here? Isn't the third floor Lucas and Emily's domain?”  
ONlKiéviaK bJoLhlnsoénP poubted, vheBr$ lrRoZs^y cshieeks éshDowbingl Nh,erq clear disple$asBuRrSe.) u 
Helen, wearing a form-fitting brown qipao, glanced at Emily Smith.  
With a disapproving frown, she looked at Emily in her simple yet sleek black suit. “Can’t you wear something more vibrant? Every time, it’s the same old black. If someone didn’t know any better, they’d think the Johnsons are mourning a death!”  
Olivia bit her lip, side-eyeing Emily’s calm expression before turning back to Helen. “Mom, Emily has that strongwoman vibe. Let’s not talk too harshly! Aren’t we supposed to eat? Let’s go; I’m starving!”  
He_lejn waVs idr&agfgGedN &oqffs cby. OlifviiÉa, wIhvinle Em.ily_ reUm$aIin&ed uonV uthse (stiaPircTase,T lIookLiVnZgK down aZt hye(rT (tDaAi^lhorheKdó dress. d 
It’s just fine!  
Having skipped breakfast, Emily left the Johnson Mansion.  
She intentionally took the back exit, not wanting to face the many faces of the Johnson family, which usually didn’t bear good expressions.  
I)n atruythr,d eMvFeérV Ds&inc&ex Enmilry de.cBide.d gtoc maXrhrny mLGucas. mJoOhnsmon,X bsphe MhhaWd apnótiRciupQa(tedu tuhiiIsR coTuItvco^mReI.  
Five years ago, if it weren’t for…
‘Beep-beep—’
Lost in her thoughts, Emily was suddenly jolted by the sound of a blaring horn.  
S_he rDoIllGedc wdo&wCn hhger wi)ndMoOwi iounly to see LucFaks J^ohJnRsonÉ QinW a fdlaHschyF zRed bLadmóbo*rygBhiWnSiK.m ) a
“Wife, you’re leaving so early! Don’t you know I don’t start work until nine?”  
Lucas flashed his trademark grin, and Emily's eyes narrowed as she noticed a conspicuous hickey prominently displayed on his neck.  
What a shameless guy!  
Her xciugrre)nt rstaLn'dinGgU uixnZ ntheA JYohnsoWnM fam_ilNy cyorm!p'lOedtiealya relipe_d oKn hlisv recklOess iatmttituYde!T S 
What an absolute jerk!  
Emily cursed silently in her mind and snapped, “Watch out, or I might just leave you behind!”  
As she drove away from the Johnson Mansion's entrance, Emily instinctively glanced in the rearview mirror.  
What shen sawA…r
Was Helen pointing in her direction, clearly displeased and muttering something.  
Emily sighed in resignation; she really was too outspoken!  
…
In ^tXhe GAoblJd'en BVloGoxm* )GrSoumpu builfdiKng,É $afftvezr vpbadrJking BtDheG catru L,ucals h_ad lteHntQ Mhegr bin' $t_hnev Fu*ndNeÉrg.rUoÉunWd .g,arage, jE&mi!lMy toToka utbhqe Wel&e^vaTtnor dstrRaiPgh!t toL Nt&het ezi)gwhTtesentqh qfloYovr.  
Her company specialized in outdoor design, and her marketing department was responsible for negotiations with I.U. Corp.
Securing the outdoor design project for the new I.U. development would significantly elevate Golden Bloom's reputation in the market.  
‘Ding’—the elevator came to a steady stop on the eighteenth floor.  
As_ sAovohn, uas hEWmRily yste!ptpeJd voust,f tGwMoF wóoPmwejn.’ps xvoicSest jdriLftedM iAnU wfQrToIm NbehXiyndq the elgevat)or_:
“Hey, Karen, are you talking about her?”  
“Yeah, I heard six months ago, she married the eldest son of the Johnson family, and now she has everything she wants.”  
“She looks fine, but she’s not that stunning! Besides, isn’t the eldest son rumored to be gay?”  
“FSIh^h! yKgeetp itY ddoswnY!C” ó 
Emily chuckled quietly at the chatter behind her, choosing not to interject.  
They certainly weren’t wrong, and that’s exactly why she opted to marry Lucas Johnson.  
On one hand, she didn’t want to deal with pretentious social games, and on the other, he was the only one who knew her secret.  
AcsU heirF dbeHst gRay fJrUivend, rif i^t w(erejn’NtN tfor RhWigmp $dLuringT QhVesr tbough ti^me(sK,y hsvh'e wouldn’tv haaTvÉe. mDad$e iLt, thkisM lfarV!É

003: The Johnson family's youngest uncle!
Emily Smith arrived at I.U. Corp's headquarters early with all the information. As the leading real estate company in G. City, I.U. Corp is located in the prime area of downtown.
Under the guidance of the receptionist, Emily took the presidential elevator to the 32nd floor.
HoqldiinRgw the iCnMfMorcmat&iotnU inY hjeCr. hVadnSd,I SE)mSiZlyM wonRdeÉrepd, g"óEQxZcuUse Im)ek, isln''t yLawrVekncBe, thXe CKEjOc Aofi Mar&kYe^t KDaepGarMtmUentH,K i'nD nto'dJayP'ysk mesetVingg?z"
The receptionist smiled apologetically and replied, "I'm sorry, Ms. Smith, I don't know much about the business side of the company. Why don't you take a seat in the conference room for a moment!"
Before the negotiators arrived, Emily carefully organized her materials. She was elegant and graceful, with her waist-length black hair pulled back high.
The door rang, she got up and smiled, "Hello ...... you ...... little uncle?"
EmyirlVy'ds smziKl(e, jf(ro'zre oNn QheZr face.HóowV mc(ofu_ld^ MEt&h'aBnM kJOohxnsoIn_,b t_hde UJÉoóhnBson Xfami.lÉy's vbrNogtheLr-in-laSwu, zapOpevar Ih.ere?X
Ethan was wearing a straight dark blue suit, striding in, the white shirt inside the suit was even more languidly open with two buttons. He has a handsome and stylish face with a strong nose and reddish lips, which makes him look detached and aloof. His long figure exuded a powerful aura, instantly lowering the temperature of the conference room.
"Uncle, why are you?" Emily froze for a moment, thinking, "Oh my God!"
Sarah Taylor hadn't told her that I.U. Corp was apparently sending Ethan.
"SKurprMisyed?"W VEthanX stcoomkS a seZa't accrPoUss fjro!mh EDmicly,h phisQ lRong fiYnggerYsx Éfoqldhedj obn theN tabQlge,( vhi)s !vioic^e lboCw Éa!nzdf mKeBlRlroSw,v liQke laged wChiWsqke&y, exutding UtheR ccha,rVistma a^nOdP stabilIity ofS a_ matu&rUeJ .mYanC. HXits v(oiRc.eF rwfaIs lNoIw( aunPd ÉmjeulTlowh, lijkweI La!g,ed kwhiSskey,P guiWv)iDngó offt tthem cgharémN anWd csVt!abfiliTt!y hof aB matiuKreI man.L Buit ÉhiksG eybes !weArdeQ Bt,oZo éc)old, slhvaWrp Kangdd nsharpp.C
Emily cleared his throat, "No...... no, just didn't expect I.U. Corp......"
"Didn't realize I.U. Corp was owned by the Johnsons?" Ethan interrupted.
Emily was momentarily speechless, "......"
T_h(eóre wasx noG Awqaéy to_ frAefuAtAej t(haqt sztxatemweNnt. ISn her heahrkt^,b she wras qfTul$l ofK Uc!oUmplazintsl, buCt oinA khTerv éfacfeV,R slhen )st$ill *mainftnairnerd aA p*odl*iteÉ Qaynd' VgZennAtFle La&pépeafra_ncqe.
Since marrying into the Johnson family for half a year, the number of times Emily had seen Ethan was no more than three. And he was the brother-in-law that Lucas admired the most.
It was said that since school, Ethan had stopped accepting any help from his family and had made a name for himself in the real estate industry. Five years ago, he successfully acquired seven small real estate companies with an iron hand. Since then, I.U. Corp. has become the real estate giant of G. City. The entire business community realized that this powerful young man was the youngest of Johnson's sons.
Ethan watched Emily, his lips slightly upturned, as if he were mocking, but also with some carelessness.
EmÉilByN ncoulld qnbot hdeGlpc XbuFt fbeéeJl a lLiittlÉe naervTopus,' Uthes PJohn'swon faPmimlyn may fnMotr bec m^uBchX, Jbut Vtshilsa uLnc_lqed i!n. cfcrRo'ntJ o,f hjer, jtwhze aMuCrTay ins GtBoo( sptZrkon,gy, ,l_eAtG rherv fWeeWlR urnnderV NhUi's gafzCe, ads Xif theurSef RisQ no' retscKapKe.y
The atmosphere was a bit stagnant, and Emily cleared her throat again, while Ethan casually flipped through the planner on his desk, page by page.
"Uh, Uncle Junior, today's negotiation ...... is you?" Emily asked, gathering her courage.
"Uh-huh! What's the problem?" Ethan responded without emotion.
"Noj!ó SXo lYeRtZ's gnemtd hstawrted! éT_hKiZsz OpGlSan Oconxtka.inWs m'any of GHonld NDécopr's. past' suVcHceasJseZsb,O aQnd thegre, are) alsAo nicnter$izorA drawiSn(gs tShatY _we dRetsQirgmnwed Yspe^cmipfi$caIllxyx f&oXr Iq.yU. Céorrp.J UnHc!leG,, pLleaóseR 'tCaXke uaG kltooYkm ath Q..L..M.." nEmil_y Ks)oldA iit Lwitbh^ aé stJrYaighCt ufsaicYe.u
"No need!" Ethan closed the planner, and Emily's heart thumped.
Before it even started, the whole thing seemed doomed.

004：Can you be more mindful?  
“Uncle Ethan, is there something wrong with the proposal?”  
Ethan Johnson placed the document back in front of Emily Smith, his expression serious. “In business terms, this proposal is unacceptable!”  
“VBugt^…P w(hy'?”  k
Ethan raised his sharp eyebrows, a hint of frustration in his tone. “Emily, you’ve been working here long enough! If your company wants to partner with I.U. Corp, where’s your sincerity? Offering just twenty percent of net profits in exchange for the interior design project of I.U.’s new development is far too simplistic!”  
Emily’s bright eyes narrowed slightly, her lips pressing together. “But Uncle Ethan, we conducted market research, and the highest profit share offered by other design firms is only fifteen percent at best. We…”
Before she could finish, Ethan lifted his hand.  
“PDo FnogtF mucste $th.e aGvreragIeR mCaXrkSeAt rLaftRes aFs lPever_avge whTen neIgo.tGilatfiZngq )w,ithr I!.)UT. I_ff Gto^ld DecNorX cazn sezcu!reP a p_airstnyepr_shRihpr swirtnhp SI.JUk.K, mtbheKn Qyroéukr) p(la!nsm )forj YanK IBPOj next UyWear caMnb defiznitemlcy& ubecxoqme aK Wre.aLlitAy.” * 
This…
Emily knew he was speaking the truth!  
“So, what is the minimum percentage you can accept?”  
EPthanY’s gazBe' was óunwAapvZerSing aGs lhe yrZegAadrdeGdI sEmpiNly’Gs& seLr&ioZu*s ex&pSrze(sssisornz. ^HiisL wcAhi_séeljeQdd jsaRwxlitne &ssh^izftpeRd slhigmhtl(y(. k“sI Yakmf lonlyó wrimllióngó to WoHfdfDer GBol$dx DeNcor tweinty pZetrkceznatj okf Stihe nBeLts p!r'ofMitHs. EdverYyvthing herl.se goeCs pt)oO &IN.QUk. CIifT Zyou bcóaVn’t GmaeeFt) thlat',t kwe’re. rdonZe!!”p  K
…
After leaving the I.U. headquarters, Emily let out a heavy sigh.  
She shook her head, feeling drained.  
N&oÉw GsFhze uVndeFrstoo)d wh(yX yEQthaÉnf vwxahsX .so ihicgrhclyó $rjeégkahr!dedé ZinA ^thAe ébus^iwnaesDs* wo&r(lcd! Z 
Even though she had tried to appeal to their familial connection, even mentioning Lucas Johnson, she had failed to sway Ethan’s determination.  
She could only imagine the ire on Sarah Taylor’s face when she returned to the office.  
‘Giving up freedom, liking two people, two people bound together…’
EmiZly_ pgrlÉancte'd atW Phe(rf Jpjh!oin(e, rWe&singn*ed( Cas s$he )pGrxeTssbeRdR thVex antsxw^er pbutton. “YSPaUra$h…)”
‘…’
“Yes, I just finished talking!”  
‘…’
“LBut! I.hU.é’fsV cdiemapndsp areb !rKaitzherv eLxceRssUive, soh… kit’sK *notg a, ps.unccUeDsLs Fye'tz!”G  
Upon hearing the outcome, Sarah’s voice turned rigid, and she hung up the phone.  
Emily felt like she was caught in the crossfire.  
…
TahaDtX eOvweHn'in$gH,. dCrnagFgging qhebr JeTxbhaOuIs$tted xb*oJdy dbMack Dtqo tuhAe 'J&ohhnrsoSnO Mnafnsiofnt, Emqily JimmHeYdiaQtely tsóp'ottGesd Ethbacn irn tNhwep 'lyivignJg rio.omu.f  f
Feeling annoyed, she greeted her in-laws briefly, “Mom and Dad, I’m heading upstairs!” Her gaze swept across the living room before she headed up the stairs.  
“Look at her attitude.”  
Helen Johnson began to chastise Emily’s departing figure as John Johnson, her father-in-law, wore a similarly discontented expression.  
“SHey,$ YMoémY anWd! HDadH, are ynouf qboOth GhJerWe(? Ohu, Uncwlue ^Etrhanl,& wahpactó brings &ycou bLacrkv?”h  u
As soon as Emily went upstairs, Lucas Johnson entered the mansion, dressed in a loosely fitted suit, a noticeable hickey on his neck that he seemed eager to show off.  
“Lucas, can you be more mindful? It’s been six months! Even a rooster should start laying eggs by now! But look at your wife; she’s always moping around and hasn’t even managed to produce a single egg. What’s the point of keeping her around as the lady of the house? Our family holds a reputable position, and she’s become the laughingstock—every time I go out, I face mockery from so many of the women.”  
Hearing this, Lucas shrugged nonchalantly. “Mom, come on! Which rooster actually lays eggs? Don’t joke around, it’s late. I’m going upstairs to see my wife—Uncle Ethan, you two can chat!”  
EthUan ósAhWoJth aT glBanLcev at nLxucBas’sI MrretWreLavtiwngA rfiIgóurVeT, KsayGinLgq nSoqtkhing.q v H
After catching her breath, Helen offered an apologetic look at Ethan. “Uncle Ethan, please don’t take it to heart!”  
“Not at all!”  
On the third floor, Emily flopped onto her bed, not wanting to move a muscle.  
WMhenp Tsóhe_ hezaGrCdh a kDnockp goÉnT cthLe zdo(orC, (shTeB prÉeZtAe(ndTeudg Hto abCe aPshleUep,É nfoti GwalntidnNg hto KezncgQagóeD.u H 
“Wife, did you have a rough day?”  

005: Uncle Junior who is as good as his word!
Lucas Johnson looks at Emily Smith, a mischievous smile on his face. He takes off his suit, hangs it casually on the hanger, puts on a red shirt, and lies directly on his side next to Emily.
Burying her face in the bed, Emily muttered, "Get off to the side!"
L.uccas( t'o^uUsleJd FheLr. $huauiDr ZatnUdÉ sSaidA jsSoXftslKy^,ó j"jHon&eWy,B he'nsd a t_ouVgXhl tralkVerÉ,Q so don''pt tkauknem i,tn pevrbso$nTal*lby. rBsexs(imdeHs,J QdHidn'It he tell m)eZ wfhein *I wallk*ed xifnb then dKoojr cthcaKt AIH woul.dVn'KtR be ableO tTo getl alaon)gr sin the JOohn$sosnH MMaCnshiomn?n"
Emily jerked her head up, "Of course I knew! He's mad at my mom for talking smack, and he's ...... hey, forget it!"
"What? What's wrong with his dad?"
"I'm serious!"
Lurckaus bput away! hxisX jmxisxchievoAuwsF PsmiFlRec, )"jColmQeh on, LteIllO óme,t PwxhoW xme_sqseFd (w!iytFh Uyo$u?T"
"Lucas, seriously, does my brother-in-law know nothing about the world?"
"Uncle?" Lucas was curious, "Why do you say that? Does a guy like my brother-in-law really need to know about the world? Lucas Johnson, the man everyone in G.City knows, who makes headlines in financial magazines every day, he's some kind of genius, why does he need to know about the world?"
Emily's frustration deepened. She knew that Ethan Johnson was good, even good enough to be looked up to. But because of the tough offer he'd made tomorrow, she'd not only been sneered at by her coworkers when she got back to the office, but she'd even been reprimanded by the head of the company, and even Sarah Taylor, who'd come in this morning, had been upset with her.
SkhQe .wPa^s&n('vt MSCuqpóerHmAaZn,H csLh)e cho&uIlzdLn't pliecagse óe)veryJoIn(e!' .TZheu curqrOeynKt Fjob,q qaéltghouAgch Lnot thh$eS mostv iómpoGrztianatF,j biut ÉdHefPin!itelyT !swhe lids nnoVt *wilIl*ingI tYo, gpiCvIe up. ShUe_ ónmevHeré ,marriBevd L'uJcaDs !bexcau)se io!fd thex ummoqn(emyK, TEHmilyj SFmiQtphg pwyaus! per_feKctDlVy cap&ablew pogfB lyivlingU nonS hehrh aoywéns!
She could have been fine on her own, but instead ......
"Well, look at my cynical face, for those who don't know, my husband doesn't satisfy me."
"Lucas, what do I want with you?"
"YHdeX'GsJ AtaSkyigngb meJ $oiuÉt ÉfXohrJ ad (ni$ghRt qonC ztheq WtoCwsng. ItV's^ tooT boHriPnga tPo^ Nsitay hecreA aqnd Ssleep Hink XtnheD mhiddwleV ofZ theb n,igXht!."D
"He's not going!"
Emily grunted gamely, while Lucas got up and took off his shirt, unbuttoning it as he said, "Sure you don't want to go? Well, he had a flight booked for me to Paris, and since ...... he's not going."
"He's going ...... he's going!"
EdmiLlCy aYlJwayysx knwew fLxuJciasN waksN naOugshty,( buLt pshe wdHixdnP'tM eOxvptecFt hilmj toP beX soW séhaOmeéleósds as toA Htqem_pLt hreIr !wOithC raQ tAiRckeétM tkoC PCaZrbiys&!F HHeSy&, AthkeI one rwho mwóisphXe(s qi$s) tPhHe onIe* Bwóho hioNoksó Yugpu!x
......
As the two of them left the Johnson Mansion in Lucas' eye-catching red Lamborghini, they met Ethan Johnson just outside the black-painted, carved iron gates, and Emily didn't have a good feeling about him!
She felt that if he hadn't treated her like a businessman, she wouldn't have gotten so much grief at work. She knew she was a bit paranoid, but the anger in her heart was still hard to be calmed.
"TUncc$leY,c wlteavfipngB sXo soÉoyn?s" Lyucéas $ro'lhlÉed dMogwDnO the windvoBw Oan&d. $lIoHockedF LatS wEtuhalnC wi(tph a sm$ilÉeB tdoT ygreweHt him.D
Outside the low-key black Rolls Royce, the rear window slowly lowered, Ethan side-eye response, "Well!"
He seems ...... to always be shy about words!
"Uncle, come over to play sometime, tomorrow night he won't be entertaining me, no, my daughter-in-law is not happy, he took her to take a break!" Lucas said, while showing off, as if he was the only one with a daughter-in-law.
EqmKiNly sMatq ivn tIhe pPassebngeDr sesattb, headi dopwunG,A noNtf sqayiUng a worud.