Chapter 1747:


    She had no intention of tethering herself to the Martels under any circumstances. The more generous Alban’s offers became, the more clearly she could see the shape of whaty beneath them. He wanted to use her — to draw her close enough to the family that she could be turned against the Joneses. And Gillian would not betray the person who had stood up for her, not for ten million, not for a hundred, not for anything.


    Alban asked again and again, and each time, Gillian gave him the same answer. She had no interest in marrying him — that was not going to change, no matter how many times he circled back to it.


    He stood there in silence, genuinely at a loss. He had never been made to feel like the lesser option. The experience was entirely foreign to him, and he didn’t know what to do with it.


    A reckless thought surfaced before he could stop it: if he told Gillian the truth — that he couldn’t have children, that his inheritance would one day fall to her daughter — would she reconsider? The thought unsettled him the moment it formed. He was actually prepared to reveal something deeply private just to persuade a woman to ept him. It went against every instinct he had as a businessman. He had built his life around strategy and clear-headed decisions, never sentiment, and recognizing how far he had drifted from that unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.


    Before he could say anything he would regret, Alban reached for his checkbook. He wrote the amount without ceremony and held it out.


    “Ten million. Take it,” he said. His voice was t, stripped of warmth.


    Gillian nced briefly at Christina, who gave a small nod, then epted the check.


    “We’re done here. Don’te looking for me again,” Alban told her. The words were measured, but the irritation underneath them was in. He had no way of knowing how much those dismissive words would cost himter.


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    “Don’t worry, Mr. Martel. I know my ce. I won’t bother you again,” Gillian replied. She held her head up, steady and unhurried, with no trace of shame or desperation.


    “Good,” Alban said through clenched teeth. “See that you mean it.”


    “I do,” she said simply. And she meant itpletely.


    From the very beginning, Gillian had never intended to involve herself with Alban or the Martel family. The distance between their worlds had always been too great, and she had never been someone who reached for things beyond her grasp. She had learned early that chasing what wasn’t meant for her only ended in pain.


    Alban watched her, jaw tight, frustration working its way through him in silence. She looked entirely indifferent. There was no longing in her eyes, no flicker of regret — nothing that suggested he registered as anything more than a transaction she was d to have concluded.


    Women had spent considerable effort over the years for even a chance at his attention, at his family’s name, at the world that came with it. Gillian stood before him looking as though being connected to him was something she was relieved to be free of.


    It was humiliating in a way he had no framework for.


    “See them out,” he said sharply, his expression darkening.


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