Perhaps Logan didn’t know that everything Abigail had today was built by my own hands.
The moment I reached the parking garage, more than a dozen bodyguards blocked my way. Instantly, my heart sank.
I never would’ve imagined that for Logan’s sake, she actually dared to move against me.
Outnumbered and powerless, I was taken by force to a villa.
The first thing I saw was a large photo of Abigail and Logan hanging on the wall.
A chill spread through my chest.
All this time, Abigail claimed she preferred to live low-key, insisting we stay in an ordinary apartment complex.
Yet she’d given Logan an entire villa.
So, this was her version of “keeping it discreet.”
Hiding a younger man in a golden cage—how impressive. Truly impressive.
Soon after, Abigail walked downstairs arm in arm with Logan, looking every bit like the lady and master of the house.
Especially Logan.
He was wearing a wig now, dressed in a perfectly tailored custom suit. When he looked at me, the corner of his mouth lifted in open mockery.
“Harrison,” Abigail said coldly. “People online say that smooth seas never made a skilled sailor, and that a man earns his backbone the hard way. So, you’ll have to pay the price for hurting Logan.”