Chapter 1746:


    Her decision was made.


    “I’m not marrying you,” Gillian said, her voice quiet butpletely firm.


    Alban’s expression fell — just slightly, but enough to notice. He had been refused twice now, and it showed. He genuinely couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t recognize what marrying into his family would mean for her. His thoughts darkened quickly, and the only exnation that took hold was that she wanted Bain instead. The idea ignited something ugly in him. His stare sharpened, the earlierposure burning away and leaving something rawer in its ce.


    The rest of the Martels exchanged nces. They were caught somewhere between the urge tough and a genuine flicker of sympathy. Alban had never been humbled like this — not once in his life — and watching it happen in front of an audience was something none of them had ever expected to see. Quietly, more than one of them found themselves rooting for Gillian. Her past, and the child, had stopped feeling likeplications. If anything, she was the first person who had ever put Alban firmly in his ce, and there was something unexpectedly satisfying about that.


    “I’ll say this once more,” Alban said, his voice controlled but strained. “Either you marry me, or you take the money and we close this. Your choice.”


    “I’ll take the money,” Gillian said, without a moment’s pause.


    No police. No marriage. The money was the only option that made sense, and she had known it before she walked through the door.


    Alban’sposure cracked further. What cut deeper than the refusal itself was the speed of it — as though she had made up her mind long before he had opened his mouth, as though the possibility of choosing him had never existed in her thinking at all.


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    Did she truly want nothing to do with him?


    He stared at her, jaw set, something between fury and bewilderment flickering behind his eyes. This woman had a singr talent for getting under his skin.


    “How much is your family prepared to offer?” Christina asked, cutting through the tension with the calm efficiency of someone wrapping up a business transaction.


    Alban kept his eyes on Gillian. “If you want a settlement, I’ll give you ten million. If you agree to marry me, I’ll give you one hundred million and ten percent of the Martel Group’s shares.”


    The gap between the two figures was staggering, and he had every reason to believe that a rational person would weigh them ande to the obvious conclusion.


    “I’ll take the ten million,” Gillian said.


    Same tone. Same steadiness. Not even a breath of hesitation.


    The rest of the Martel family had quietly assumed that an offer of that magnitude would at least give her pause. It didn’t. She didn’t waver by so much as a fraction, and the room absorbed that fact in a moment of collective, silent surprise. They found themselves wondering — was she simply that afraid of entangling herself with their family, or was the problem Alban specifically? None of them could work it out, and none of them felt it was their ce to ask. They exchanged a quiet look and let the scene continue.


    “Are you absolutely certain?” Alban pressed, still unwilling to let it go.


    “Completely. You could ask me a hundred times and the answer would be the same,” Gillian replied, steady and unhurried.


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