In the cemetery of Brixton City, a funeral was underway. Fiona, dressed in black, stood quietly among the crowd, receiving condolences one by one from her father's former friends.

"Miss Quinn, my deepest condolences," someone whispered softly.

Fiona wiped away her tears and thanked the guests.

A month ago, the Quinn Group had completely collapsed, and her father had suddenly passed away from a heart attack, leaving the world forever.

The once glorious Quinn family had fallen into ruin.

The crowd let out a collective sigh of sorrow, but none dared to underestimate Fiona.

For she was not only the heiress of the Quinn family but also the wife of Mason Hayes, the formidable CEO of the Quinn Group, whose very presence could send shivers down the spines of those in the business world.

The funeral lasted until noon, yet Mason was nowhere to be seen. Just as it was about to conclude, a discreet Bentley slowly entered the cemetery.

The driver opened the rear door, and Mason stepped out. Polished leather shoes appeared first, followed by a sharply tailored suit, and then a strikingly handsome face with sharp features, his expression cold.

This was the first time Fiona had seen Mason in two years of marriage—how ironic that it was at her father's funeral!

While all the other guests brought flowers and made contributions, Mason arrived empty-handed!

"Mason," and to everyone's surprise, the other car door opened, and a stunning woman in a red dress and short skirt emerged, naturally linking her arm with Mason's. "Should I go in?"

Looking at her, Mason's expression softened slightly as he gently removed her hand from his arm. "Wait here for me."

"Okay," the woman smiled sweetly, stood on her tiptoes, and planted a kiss on his cheek.

The scene was like a slap in the face to Fiona, stinging and humiliating. It was her father’s funeral, and yet this woman, dressed in a bold red dress, dared to kiss her husband in front of all the guests!

Fiona clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms, her composure hanging by a thread. Meanwhile, Mason strode up the steps, his imposing figure casting a shadow over her as he approached. Standing at an intimidating 6’2”, he loomed over her, his voice dripping with mockery. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue after two years apart?”

“What do you want?” Fiona shot back, her voice steady despite the unease creeping up her spine. She could sense the hostility radiating from him.

“What do I want?” Mason’s eyes turned icy, colder than the winter storm raging outside. “I’m here to pay my respects to my dear father-in-law, of course.”

His gaze swept over her, scrutinizing every detail. There was no denying it—Fiona had grown even more stunning in the past two years. Her long, flowing hair cascaded down her back, and under different circumstances, they might have shared a happy marriage. But no, that was never in the cards. He had married her for one reason only: to exact revenge on that scoundrel, Gary Quinn.

“Everyone, out.” Mason’s command was soft but firm, and without hesitation, the mourners filed out of the hall. No one dared to defy him or cross the Quinn Enterprises.

As the last person left, Fiona felt a sharp, almost bone-wrenching pain in her wrist as Mason yanked her violently into the room. The heavy doors slammed shut behind them.

…

An hour later, Mason adjusted his suit jacket and walked out of the funeral hall, his expression unreadable.

The woman who had been waiting outside the door immediately approached him, gently grasping his hand. "Mason, how did it go? Did you manage to resolve everything?" she asked softly.

"Mm," Mason responded tersely, his voice calm but distant. He turned his hand to hold hers and began descending the steps, his tone final as he added, "It's all over."

Rory sensed the restraint in his words but didn’t dare press further. She glanced back over her shoulder, a lingering unease settling in her chest.

She could only hope—truly hope—that it really was over.