Chapter 1745:


    She didn’t believe for a moment that Alban genuinely wanted to marry her. There was a reason behind the offer — there always was — and love was not among the possibilities. And even if she were wrong, she had no desire to step into the Martel household as a bride. The two families were already in open tension, and she owed the Joneses more than she could repay. Marrying Alban would make her a pawn in a feud she had no part in starting. That was not a role she was willing to y.


    “It matters to me. Very much,” Gillian said, her voice steadier than she felt. “And I don’t want to marry you.”


    Alban’s smile stiffened. He hadn’t seen thating.


    She hadn’t simply declined — she had shut the door without a second’s hesitation, without so much as a flicker of regret on her face. Women had tried for years to marry into the Martel family and failed. Yet Gillian looked as though she would sooner walk barefoot across broken ss than ept him.


    Was she looking down on him? The thought stung more than he cared to admit.


    “Then why are you here?” he asked, an edge of irritation sharpening his voice.


    Gillian opened her mouth to answer, then closed it again, stepping back instinctively as though his frustration were a physical thing pressing toward her.


    Christina stood smoothly and ced a calm, steady hand at Gillian’s back. Gillian nced at her, caught theposed expression on her face, and felt her own breathing settle.


    “Since marriage is off the table,” Christina said pleasantly, “perhaps you’d consider financialpensation instead. Emotional damages aren’t free.”


    Alban’s jaw tightened. “Emotional damages? Are you implying she suffered by being with me?” he said, the words clipped and taut.


    ??????е n????????? o?? ??а?????????????.с??m


    It was dangerously close to a slight against his character in a way he had no clean rebuttal for, and that made it worse.


    His situation had nothing to do with performance, and everything to do with a medical reality — there was a distinction, and this conversation was trampling over it with no regard whatsoever.


    “Whether she suffered or not, you still owe her something,” Christina continued, letting her gaze drift over him with deliberateposure. “Surely the Martel heir isn’t the kind of man who walks away from a woman without any acknowledgment. Can you imagine the headlines? It would be quite the story.”


    Gillian had no interest in awsuit, and she had made her feelings about marriage abundantly clear. A clean settlement was the simplest resolution — straightforward, final, and done.


    Alban held his silence, his jaw tight, his gaze fixed on Gillian with an intensity that carried the unmistakable edge of someone who had no intention of conceding. It wasn’t about the money — that had never been the issue. He genuinely wanted to make her his wife. In his mind, that was the only answer that truly settled anything. The problem was that Gillian was the one refusing it.


    “If you marry me, you won’t just receivepensation. You’ll walk away with far more than whatever figure they have in mind,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers.


    Gillian felt the weight of his stare press against her chest. She had already sensed something calcted beneath his insistence on marriage, and the harder he pushed, the more certain she became. There was only one reason a man like Alban Martel would want to marry someone like her under circumstances like these — and it had nothing to do with genuine feeling. He wanted leverage. He wanted to use her against the Jones family. The thought both rmed and irritated her in equal measure.


    .


    .


    .