Your Purpose

Prologue

When Anne was eighteen, she had a strange dream. In the midst of its ups and downs, she couldn’t make out the other person’s face. But when she woke up, she found herself clutching a man’s hand tightly.

"Brother Arthur?"

Twenty-three-year-old Arthur slowly pried her tightly clasped hands away, his face devoid of expression.

"Next time you take an afternoon nap, lock your door."

Five Years Later – The Moore Family Banquet

Downstairs, the banquet was in full swing.

Upstairs, in the attic—

Anne lay lazily on the pillow, watching the man in front of her button his shirt, fasten his cufflinks, and put on his watch. Every movement was as precise and meticulous as a carefully crafted masterpiece—detailed and methodical.

At this moment, his refined and elegant appearance was completely different from what he had been just now.

"Not leaving?" Arthur turned to ask her.

"I can't," Anne pointed to the crumpled evening gown on the floor. "The zipper broke."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "When you texted me earlier, why didn’t you think to bring a spare dress?"

Anne feigned ignorance. "I only texted to say there was still plenty of time before the banquet started and asked if you wanted to come up and rest."

She chuckled at her own words.

They had been sleeping together for two years. Most of the time, Arthur was a good lover—almost always indulging her whims and willing to play along with her impulsive ideas.

Like today’s "quick fix"—not a frequent occurrence, but it happened from time to time.

Today, he had clearly underestimated the time. The banquet had already begun ten minutes ago, and as one of the main figures, his absence had been noticed. His secretary called, inquiring about his whereabouts.