This was undoubtedly the most historic day in Arden's life.

He stood outside the car wash, letting the beautiful attendants move around his beloved car. They threw flirtatious glances his way, but he gave no indication he noticed.

After Sandra had left, it had taken him a while to regain his composure. Even now, a dull ache persisted in his lower body.

Arden drove the half-ice cream-stained car to his original destination: the family doctor's office. He couldn't press the gas pedal too hard—the pain caused cramps that shot from his thigh all the way to his toes.

It was his first time lying on an examination table, allowing another man to fiddle with his private parts for a thorough examination.

Fortunately, it was only soft tissue bruising, and his balls weren't ruptured. If they had been, he would have made Sandra's life miserable forever—ensuring she regretted what she'd done to him today.

🎬🔀

Moya received a call and came to play Arden's chauffeur, but when she arrived, she only saw the car—no Arden.

Confused, Moya climbed into Arden's SVJ and called him. "Where are you?"

"Is the car clean?" Arden asked weakly, his voice betraying a hint of discomfort.

"Yes. I was about to hit the road. Why didn't you drive it yourself?" Moya asked, unable to hide her curiosity. This car was one of Arden's beloved, and he never let anyone else touch the wheel.

"I didn't want to wait, so I took a taxi home," Arden replied quickly.

He didn't want Moya to see the slap mark on the left side of his face, or the bruise from the punch on his right side. And certainly not the way he was walking with his legs clamped together.

"Are you alright?" Moya asked, her tone soft but filled with concern. Having known Arden for years, she could tell immediately that something was off.

Arden, clearly frustrated, yelled impatiently, "Drive the car back, park it on my driveway, and throw the car key on the second-floor balcony."

If Moya were that obedient, communism would have been achieved around the world long ago.

🎬🔀

Arden heard the engine hum in the distance and carefully got up from the bed. He pulled the curtain back slightly, watching Moya park the car with precision. She stepped out, tossed the key onto the balcony with a soft "clink," then climbed back into the waiting taxi, which soon disappeared from sight.

He waited a while longer, ensuring the taxi wasn't returning. Only then did he open the balcony door, slowly bend down, and retrieve the keys.

As he returned to the room, he paused, a strange feeling creeping over him, as if he'd heard something. He stopped, glanced around, but there was nothing—just silence. Probably just his imagination.

Shrugging it off, he made his way back to his bed. He applied a soothing face mask, propped several pillows behind him, and settled in comfortably, turning on the TV to unwind.

After watching half of a news segment, Arden suddenly lowered the volume, his expression turning serious.

Grabbing a hockey stick from beside the bed, he yanked the bedroom door open, only to be met by a tall, slim figure stumbling inside. Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed her arm. Tossing the stick aside, still wearing the face mask, he mumbled, "What are you doing here?"

Moya steadied herself, eyeing Arden as if sizing him up. "Just checking if you're about to die, so I can start preparing to inherit your estate, my dear half-brother."

"Cut it out," Arden waved her off, turning halfway to sit on the bedroom sofa. "You wish. If I die, it won't be you—the unacknowledged bastard—getting anything."

"At least there's hope," Moya said slyly, plopping herself down beside him, making Arden grit his teeth while the jolt of the sofa sent a sharp pain shooting through his injured areas.

"How did you get in?" Arden asked, frustration creeping into his voice. He raised his hand, almost instinctively removing the face mask, but quickly realized his face was in no condition to be seen. He adjusted the mask, trying to cover up his awkwardness.

Moya curled up comfortably on the sofa, letting out an exaggerated complaint. "Why'd you put the spare key so high? I almost fell off the table trying to reach it."

"How did you know about the spare key?" Arden asked, his brow furrowing. He'd almost forgotten about it himself.

Moya smirked wickedly. "Your ex-girlfriend told me."

Arden's brow furrowed deeper, trying to recall which ex-girlfriend might have spilled the beans. He could count the girlfriends he'd brought home on one hand. One of them was sitting right beside him now. Sighing, he decided not to dwell on it—a misunderstanding he could never share with anyone.

Moya, sensing Arden's distraction, quickly shifted the topic, still clearly curious. "Why did you suddenly run back home to put on a face mask?"

"My skin's sensitive in the spring. I need some care," Arden snapped.

"Why don't you go to the beauty salon then?" Moya pressed, not ready to let it go. "You can't just use any mask if your skin is sensitive. It could cause irritation," she added, reaching up to help him remove it.

Arden slapped her hand away. "Don't touch it. This is a hypoallergenic mask."

Moya wasn't convinced, "Doesn't smell like it."

Arden shoved her shoulder in irritation. "What do you know? Hurry up and leave."

But Moya remained stubborn. "We're still going to The Roxy tonight, right? I'm hitching a ride with you."

"Aren't you going home to shower, do your makeup, and change?" Arden asked, clearly not happy with her persistence.

"I can shower here, and I've got makeup with me. As for clothes... what about the ones I left here?"

"I threw them all away."

Moya frowned. "Not a single piece?"

Arden, growing impatient, replied, "Why would I leave your clothes here? Go wherever you feel comfortable. I've got plans tonight. I'm not going to The Roxy."

"What plans?" Moya pressed, her curiosity getting the better of her, as persistent as ever.

Arden ground his teeth and said coldly, "Murder someone."

Moya, startled by the sudden terrifying aura emanating from him, shuddered. "You don't mean... for real?"

"What do you think?" Arden glared at her, the face mask making him look expressionless, but his eyes were sharp enough to kill. "If you don't leave now, I'll use you as a sacrificial offering."

Moya, sensing his deadly vibe but still a little skeptical, said, "You wouldn't do that to your half-sister, right?"

Arden grabbed a pedicure knife from the bedside table. "Try me."

Moya, agile as ever, jumped up.

Arden, holding the pedicure knife, thrust it where she had been sitting.

Leaping toward the door, Moya raised her hands in mock surrender. "Which woman pissed you off? Don't take it out on me. Calm down. We're family. Come to The Roxy tonight. I'll help you out. Honestly, using a pedicure knife for murder is pretty twisted and not very practical..."

The pedicure knife flew towards the door, clattering on the wooden floor as Moya rushed out, leaving Arden alone with his frustration.

🎬🔀

Sandra's hands were still trembling as she stepped through the door. It wasn't fear but the sudden rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins, leaving her muscles taut and her nerves on edge.

"Sasa, you're back," April said, swiveling halfway in her computer chair. "Where's your phone? Battery dead? Yao's been looking for you. He called me a bunch of times. You should call him back. He sounds urgent."

Sandra finally remembered—the phone... it was thrown out of the car by Arden.

"If he calls again, just tell him I'm back. I'm taking a shower first," Sandra replied, covering her mouth with one hand and waving dismissively with the other as she headed straight to her room.

April puffed her cheeks, flipping the phone in her hand while watching Sandra retreat. After a moment of contemplation, she shrugged, unable to make sense of it, and returned to her anime.

Sandra stood under the shower, letting the warm water cascade over her body, slowly easing the tension in her muscles. Her thoughts swirled, a chaotic mix of satisfaction and unease. Was it the rush of revenge, or the lingering shock of his overwhelming presence? She didn't know.

She glanced at the back of her hand, where faint impressions of the wire mesh still lingered. He had been ruthless—did he really want to crush her into minced meat with that wire?

Since the first time she met Arden, he had always played the gentleman. But today, he revealed a violent side she hadn't anticipated. What unsettled her more was the strange, lingering attraction she felt toward him despite it.

Especially when she had asked him to let her go, his stubborn reply—"I won't"—with a childish persistence, echoed in her mind, sending a sharp, inexplicable pang through her chest.

The water carried the bitter taste of shampoo to her lips, stinging as it touched her wounds. Sandra gingerly pinched her swollen lips, replaying the scene.  Her chest involuntarily tightened once more.

She had never experienced a kiss like that before—if it could even be called a kiss. It felt more like he was trying to consume her entirely. Was today the full moon? How could the werewolf transform in broad daylight?

For a moment, she lost herself in the pain and his forceful act. A thought flickered, unbidden: she had almost liked his possessiveness.

Horrified, she shuddered. No way. I can't be a masochist!

Sandra quickly turned the water temperature colder,  letting the chill snap her out of her spiraling thoughts.

April knocked on the bathroom door. "Yao's calling again."

Sandra shouted over the sound of the shower, "Just tell him I'm back."

"He insists on talking to you directly," April replied, exasperated.

Sandra sighed, turning off the water and wrapping herself in a towel. It was something she would have to get over with eventually. So it was better to deal with it quickly rather than lose sleep over it later.

When April handed Sandra the phone, she was a bit surprised, pointing to her own lips in concern. 

Sandra waved her off, silently mouthing, I'm fine.

"Sandra, are you okay?" Yao's worried voice came through immediately.

"Yup," Sandra replied, keeping her tone light.

"Why didn't you answer my calls?"

"I lost my phone," she said, cursing Arden silently and mourning for her cell phone.

"Did he hurt you?"

Sandra hesitated, forcing a smile. "What do you think?"

Yao seemed reassured by the hint of laughter in her tone, but wasn't entirely convinced. "I was worried about you."

Sandra comforted him, "You should see who my sparring partner is—no regular man can do anything to me." 

Though that man wasn't exactly ordinary.

Yao relaxed but pressed further, "What's going on? You two seem... close."

"Do you want the truth or a lie?"

"The lie," Yao said after a pause.

"He calls everyone babe," Sandra quipped, her tone flippant.

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

Sandra heard the knock on the door. April headed to the living room. 

"The landlady's here. I'll talk to you later," She hastily ended the call and threw the phone on the bed.

The landlady entered with a teasing smile. "The girls in love? There's been so much delivery lately—flowers, parcels, you name it. Help me with this one; it's heavy."

Sandra quickly dressed and joined April to carry the parcel inside.

Upon hearing the landlady's comment, Sandra rolled her eyes and glared at April. She hadn't seen any of the petals, so clearly, they were April's. The last time, Ryo almost threw her on a chopping board and devoured her alive. April just couldn't remember the lesson.

April shrank her neck and didn't explain.

"What's it this time?" The landlady asked curiously.

Sandra took a knife, quickly opened the packaging, and revealed a blue and white plastic box inside.

Sandra's heart skipped a beat—it was a small refrigerator. She carefully unlatched it, and a cold mist escaped. The small fridge was half-filled with ice, no wonder it was so heavy.

A bowl of mango ice cream nestled in crushed ice. A large finger cookie stuck out between two chocolate scoops, drizzled with milky syrup that had already hardened.

 "Wow, ice cream! It looks so delicious," April exclaimed, leaning in to admire it.

Sandra stared at the dessert, finding the ice cream less appetizing than it should have been. Maybe it was just her overactive imagination, but the sight of it felt rather creepy. Her stomach churned. 

She didn't need to guess who sent it.

"You like it, go ahead and eat it," Sandra said, retreating to the bathroom to dry her hair.

April happily devoured the ice cream while watching videos. Before long, the bowl was empty.

Sandra, standing in front of the mirror, examined her bruised lips. She rummaged for some ointment but paused when the phone rang. Assuming it was Yao, she answered without checking the caller ID.

On the other end of the line, there was the sound of a man's heavy breathing. Sandra frowned, glancing at the screen. The number looked familiar, but she couldn't quite place it.

"Who is it?"

"Finished the treat?" a teasing voice asked.

He actually dared to call her! It seemed the kick she gave him earlier hadn't been enough.

She glanced at the empty bowl on April's desk and answered impatiently, "Yes."

Arden chuckled, "Good to know you enjoyed it."

His laugh sent an involuntary chill down her spine.

"What... did you put in it?" she demanded sharply.

"You'll know in a little while," he replied, his tone playful yet disturbingly cryptic.

Before Sandra could say another word, the line went dead.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Happy new year!!! Welcome to 2025, the 4th update~

What do you think Arden has put in the ice cream?

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