In this country teeming with spies, they are depicted in TV dramas as invincible, composed, and always a step ahead. But when it came to gathering evidence herself, Liyan felt like she was walking on a tightrope, every step filled with trepidation. She had to prepare lies in advance to fend off prying questions. Though Liyan was good at hiding her true feelings, she wasn't adept at lying. Each lie left her feeling guilty for a long time, even if her motives were justified. The constant anxiety made her lose weight, and she had no appetite, often feeling nauseous. At this rate, she feared she would collapse both physically and mentally before she could gather enough evidence.

　　Liyan went to see a doctor, and on her way back to the manor, she clutched the crumpled diagnosis report. The doctor's "Congratulations" hit her like a thunderbolt. She hesitated whether to share the news with John, knowing how much he had been looking forward to it. If only she hadn't discovered the suspicious consignments at Huntington Auction House, she would have happily snuggled up to John and told him, "You're going to be a father." Back at the manor, Liyan pondered for a long time before stuffing the diagnosis report into her dressing table drawer.

　　The next day, Liyan didn't go to the dining room for breakfast because she felt unwell.

　　Mrs. Huntington asked John, "Why didn't Liyan come for breakfast?"

　　"She said she couldn't eat. I'll take a crepe to her bedroom in a bit."

　　"She's lost weight and seems emotionally down lately. Could she be ill?" Mrs. Huntington asked with concern.

　　"She's been really busy with the autumn auction. She said she's just a bit tired."

　　"Don't take it lightly, John. Make sure she sees a doctor."

　　"She's been very dedicated to her work. Just the other day, Liyan mentioned that our auction house might have stolen artifacts."

　　Mrs. Huntington put down her knife and fork, her face serious. "What else did she say?"

　　John was startled by his mother's reaction. "I told her, 'Liyan, you're overthinking it.' She didn't say anything after that."

　　"She didn't press further?"

　　"No. Why are you so tense?"

　　"I'm sorry, I lost my composure." Mrs. Huntington tried hard to conceal her unease.

　　John couldn't help but wonder what was going on with these two women.

　　Liyan noticed her office was unusually clean and tidy. The janitor came daily to empty the trash, wipe the desk, and vacuum the floor, but today everything in her office had been moved and meticulously rearranged. Even the drawer where she kept Director Xu's discs had been opened, though none were missing. Liyan was stunned. Since when did janitors rummage through drawers? Every surface in the office had been carefully wiped down, not a speck of dust or a single fingerprint remained. It was almost suspiciously spotless.

　　Liyan reported to Manager Hopkins, “Someone's been in my office.”

　　“The janitor was there. She left before you arrived,” Hopkins replied.

　　“She went through my stuff.”

　　“Did you lose anything?” Manager Hopkins asked, clearly worried.

　　“Nothing's missing.”

　　“She’s new, and we haven’t had time to train her properly. If her cleaning methods offended you, I’ll fire her immediately,” Hopkins offered.

　　Liyan sighed, “Forget it. I have a specific way I like my things. The previous janitor didn’t mess with my stuff.”

　　“I’ll get you a different janitor,” Hopkins said considerately.

　　Despite Hopkins' assurances, Liyan couldn’t shake the feeling that the immaculate state of her office was highly unusual. She copied the data from Director Xu’s discs and the photos of the consigned items she had taken. Finding an excuse to leave work early, she rented a private safety deposit box at the bank and stored the copies there. Only then did she feel a bit more at ease.

　　That night, just before bed, John reminded Liyan, “Mom wants you to go to the auction house a bit later tomorrow. She has something to discuss with you in the morning.”

　　“What could be so important that it has to be said tomorrow morning?”

　　"She said it's a private matter between women. As a man, I can't be involved," John shrugged, spreading his hands. "I have no idea what she's up to."

　　Liyan wondered if Mrs. Huntington had already figured out her pregnancy.

　　The next morning, John left early for work at the auction house. The dining room was eerily quiet, with just Mrs. Huntington, Liyan, and Nanny the housekeeper present. Liyan's palms were sweaty with nervousness.

　　Mrs. Huntington abruptly threw a stack of discs in front of her. “Explain this.”

　　Liyan instantly realized that yesterday’s office incident was no mere paranoia—Mrs. Huntington was about to accuse her of something serious.

　　“They’re study materials,” Liyan replied nonchalantly. “As the chief appraiser for Huntington Auction House, I felt my knowledge was lacking, so I had a friend in China send me these.”

　　Mrs. Huntington sneered. “Do you think I’m a fool? Tell me, which of the auction house's artworks are on these 16 discs?”

　　John and his big mouth—he must have told Mrs. Huntington everything they discussed privately. Knowing she couldn't lie her way out, Liyan immediately pleaded, “Mom, I didn’t mean any harm.”

　　Mrs. Huntington pressed on, “John says you suspect the auction house of dealing in stolen artifacts. Is that true?”

　　Liyan quickly admitted, “I was mistaken.”

　　“You weren’t mistaken,” Mrs. Huntington said, pulling out a tiny digital camera. “You’ve been investigating us?”

　　Liyan gasped. Her office had clearly been thoroughly searched last night.

　　Before Liyan could react, Mrs. Huntington pressed the delete button on the camera.

　　“I let my son marry a corporate spy,” Mrs. Huntington muttered. “Do you have any other copies?”

　　“No.” Liyan was relieved she had made a backup.

　　“Search her for her phone,” Mrs. Huntington ordered.

　　Nanny found Liyan’s phone and handed it to Mrs. Huntington.

　　“Lock her up,” Mrs. Huntington instructed Nanny and Old Tom.

　　In an instant, Liyan was transformed from the mistress of Huntington Manor to its prisoner.

　　When John returned home that evening, he found Catherine leisurely reading a fashion magazine on the living room sofa. “Why are you home? Don’t you need to manage the London boutique?” he asked.

　　“Mom was frantic this morning, calling me to come home!” Catherine snapped. “I should be asking you what’s going on here!”

　　At that moment, Mrs. Huntington descended the stairs.

　　“Mom, Manager Hopkins said Liyan is sick, and you took a sick leave for her. How is she now?” John asked, rushing toward the bedroom.

　　“She’s not in the bedroom.”

　　“Is she in the hospital?” John was frantic. “I should be the first to know if Liyan is sick!”

　　“She’s not in the hospital either,” Mrs. Huntington said coldly.

　　“Then where is she?” John sensed his mother was hiding something.

　　“Both of you, sit down,” Mrs. Huntington commanded.

　　Her expression was grave, as if something terrible was about to happen.

　　John and Catherine exchanged glances but obediently sat on the sofa.

　　“What I’m about to say, you both need to listen carefully,” Mrs. Huntington said. “Liyan is a corporate spy. She’s been gathering evidence on Huntington Auction House selling stolen Chinese artifacts.”

　　John was desperate. “Mom, I’ve told you before, it’s a misunderstanding. You can’t wrongfully accuse her.”

　　“Wrongfully accuse her? Here’s the evidence you asked for,” Mrs. Huntington said, producing the discs and digital camera.

　　John felt like he’d been struck by lightning. “Where is she?”

　　“She’s in a safe place.”

　　“You’ve locked her up? You’ve imprisoned my wife because you suspect she’s a corporate spy?” John stood up, agitated.

　　“Calm down and listen to Mom,” Catherine said, placing a hand on John’s shoulder and forcing him to sit back down.

　　“She’s only been working at Huntington Auction House for a year, and she’s already collected this evidence. How can I not suspect that she wants to bring down our auction house?” Mrs. Huntington continued.

　　“Liyan has always been interested in artifact appraisal. This is just her curiosity. I’ve already explained to her that any auction house’s consignment items may contain some stolen artifacts, and she understands. This is all a misunderstanding,” John said, trying to defend his wife.

　　“The evidence she’s collected is enough to ruin the auction house,” Mrs. Huntington said sharply.

　　“You’re blowing this out of proportion. Liyan has never done anything to harm the auction house. You were the one who persuaded her to stay and work here not long ago,” John felt his mother was targeting a non-existent threat, blinded by her obsession with the auction house.

　　“You’re blinded by this woman. Isn’t this evidence enough?” Mrs. Huntington snapped.

　　John pleaded with his mother, “Can you let Liyan out, please? We need to confront this face-to-face.”

　　“Absolutely not!” Mrs. Huntington’s tone was firm.

　　“Meeting face-to-face is the only way to clear up this misunderstanding. Unless... unless Liyan’s suspicions are true?” John’s voice wavered.

　　Mrs. Huntington’s expression froze. “It’s time you knew the truth about Huntington Manor. We’re not nobility anymore,” Mrs. Huntington said. “Your great-grandfather, Andrew Huntington, squandered our fortune and mismanaged the estate. Coupled with the increased inheritance taxes in England, the Huntington family was on the brink of bankruptcy. He saved the estate by selling off crates of looted Chinese artifacts from the colonial era. But that wasn’t enough, so he turned to smuggling artifacts directly from China to sell in the UK. To avoid exposure, he established an auction house—Huntington Auction House was born from this.”

　　John and Catherine were stunned into silence.

　　“When I first learned this, I was just as shocked as you are now,” Mrs. Huntington continued. “Your father was ill, and when you were seventeen, I had to take over the auction house and learned all these secrets. I thought marrying into the Huntington family was a blessing, but I had no choice. As a mother, I wanted my children to live a privileged life without struggling for survival.”

　　Ever since Mrs. Huntington took over the auction house, joy and laughter vanished from their home. Her strict and cold demeanor toward John wasn’t because she didn’t love him but because she lived in constant fear and anxiety, facing this burden alone. To keep the auction house’s secret, she had to endure and wait until John was old enough to take over the family responsibilities.

　　The luxurious life at Huntington Manor was a façade wrapped in lies. Thanks to his mother’s resilience, John had enjoyed a carefree youth. How much had she endured, transforming from a middle-class lady into a capable matriarch? If she had shown any weakness, Huntington Manor would have fallen long ago. But what had he done? He had constantly opposed her, trampling on her good intentions. John was filled with remorse for his youthful defiance. Despite knowing the truth about the auction house, he couldn’t blame his mother for her choices. He even felt a bit grateful to her.

　　“Do you want everything at Huntington Manor to be destroyed because of your wife?” his mother demanded.

　　John promised his mother, “I won’t let that happen. I’ll convince Liyan.”

　　With Mrs. Huntington and Catherine watching, John wearily climbed the stairs.

　　He reached the door of the room where his mother used to lock him when he misbehaved. Through the door, he could hear Liyan crying inside, and his heart softened. John knocked gently and called her name.

　　“Liyan, it’s John. There’s a small mechanism about a quarter of the way up from the bottom of the door.” John opened the small hatch, which was about the size of a mail slot. When he was a child, and his mother locked him in, Nanny would pass sandwiches through this slot. John sat on the floor, leaning against the door, his head level with the hatch.

　　“I'm sorry,” John choked up, not knowing where to start.

　　“Please let me out,” Liyan said through the hatch, their eyes the only part of each other they could see.

　　“Mom suspects you're a corporate spy, trying to bring down the Huntington family.”

　　“I’m not a spy,” Liyan defended herself. “I found out by accident.”

　　“Can we just pretend none of this happened and go back to how things were?”

　　“John, pretending these things didn’t happen isn’t a solution.”

　　“Can you do it just this once for me?” John pleaded.

　　“You can pretend for a while, but not forever. Please, just let me out first.”

　　John could sense Liyan’s stubbornness. She wasn’t going to compromise no matter what. He recalled his own childhood, the first day he was locked in this very room, just as stubborn, though he eventually gave in.

　　“Get some rest. I’ll bring you a sandwich later.” John stood up, lingering at the door for a long time before finally leaving.

　　From John’s words, Liyan understood everything. The anonymous consignor of the stolen artifacts to the auction house was Mrs. Huntington. There was no way Mrs. Huntington would let her go. Would John defy his mother’s will and free her? Based on today’s events, it seemed like a fifty-fifty chance.

　　Liyan examined the confinement room. The glass windows were tightly papered, with wooden slats nailed securely inside, making it impossible to escape through the window. The manor was vast, with the villa at least a kilometer away from the outside world; shouting would be useless. The small hatch on the door could only be opened from the outside. Unless someone brought food, she was completely isolated.

　　This familiar manor had become foreign, cruel, and filled with hidden dangers. She felt trapped in a black hole, enveloped by conspiracy and despair. Liyan thought of the horrifying scenes in Agatha Christie novels; in a secluded manor, there were countless ways to turn a person into a ghost who never speaks again. Alone in England, even if she disappeared, no one would care. Her mother was far away in China, unable to help even if she noticed something was wrong. Determined, Liyan resolved to win John’s sympathy and beg him to free her.

　　There was no clock or sunlight in the room. Without any reference points, the concept of time became blurred. Liyan noticed Nanny brought sandwiches twice a day, and John brought one once. These details were her only way to mark time.

　　John would talk with her every day, reminiscing about their time at Oxford, with the sole purpose of salvaging the situation through happy memories, hoping to make the other person yield. John wanted Liyan to go along with things and pretend nothing had happened, while Liyan tried to persuade John to abandon the family business.

　　“John, don’t you want to study music? Leave the auction house, and let’s start over.”

　　“I can’t leave my mother. I can’t watch the auction house collapse.”

　　“Huntington Auction House can run a legitimate business without selling stolen artifacts. Convince your mother to stop.”

　　“Mom has sacrificed so much for the family. I can’t—” John began to sob.

　　“I don’t care about a luxurious life. We can leave here and make an honest living. I can endure poverty.”

　　“Why are you so stubborn? It's not just the UK; how many auction houses in the West haven’t sold stolen artifacts? That’s just reality.”

　　“When people force you to accept wrong things, they say, ‘That’s just reality.’”

　　Each conversation ended in silence, fizzling out into nothing. There was a mysterious force in this manor that made people weak. If you played by its rules, some were naturally suited to it, effortlessly fitting in. Others, like John, had to struggle a bit, but no matter how much he rebelled in his youth, he was eventually molded to fit the manor’s way of life. But if you tried to defy it, it would strip away everything it had given you and peel a layer off your skin, like it was doing to her. Liyan guessed it had been about a week, and she longed for her tiny apartment in Shanghai. Though the attic was small, it had a skylight, and standing beneath it, she could see the distant skyline, with pigeons flying at the edge of the sky. Pigeons couldn’t be caged because each of their feathers shimmered with the light of freedom.

　　Am I going to spend the rest of my life in this closed-off room? Liyan’s fear grew more real with each passing moment. When she hesitated at Rachel’s insults, John had opened his heart to her; when she was torn about staying in England, John had proposed; when she couldn’t stand the monotonous life of the manor, John had persuaded Mrs. Huntington to let her work at the auction house. John was her only support in England. Would he, as he had promised at their wedding, protect her for a lifetime?