《One Night Stand With My Ex's Billionaire Enemy》


 Chapter 1 Breakup Over A Damn Mug

    <h4>Chapter 1: Chapter 1 Breakup Over A Damn Mug</h4>


    Cracks!


    My fianc¨¦ hit me.


    Three minutes ago, I had been daydreaming about how to decorate our ridiculously expensive penthouse apartment, where every corner looked like it belonged on the cover of a magazine.


    Two minutes ago, I identally broke a mug.


    Then, Rhys pped me across the face¡ªhard.


    My cheek burned like it had been seared by fire. It took a full thirty seconds before my brain restarted, slowly piecing reality back together.


    ¡°Are you fucking insane?¡± I gritted my teeth, forcing the words through the cracks of my jaw.


    Rhys¡¯s lips were pressed into a cold, tight line, his expression dark and resolute. ¡°It was just a mug with Katherine¡¯s face on it,¡± he said, like my reaction was an overblown performance, not the result of something horrifying he had just done.


    ¡°You have got to be fucking kidding me.¡± I stared at him in disbelief, chest heaving as rage and humiliation churned violently inside me, ready to explode.


    For half a second¡ªjust half¡ªsomething like guilt flickered across his face. Then it vanished, consumed by a storm of fury.


    ¡°No, you¡¯re the insane one!¡± he roared. ¡°I already agreed to marry you¡ªwhat more do you want? Katherine¡¯s gone, but you still broke that mug on purpose!¡±


    His voice trembled with anger. ¡°She was your sister! She had to leave because of you! And now you¡¯re jealous of her? You won¡¯t rest until every trace of her is erased, will you?¡±


    The hatred in his eyes cut deeper than the p.


    My cheek throbbed. My hand was still bleeding. But nothing hurt more than my heart.


    I forced myself to unclench my jaw and made onest attempt to exin. ¡°It wasn¡¯t me. I never asked her to leave.¡±


    Technically speaking, I understood why someone might say that. Katherine had left behind a letter. In it, she said she¡¯d seen my diary, realized I had a crush on Rhys, and decided to ¡°let go,¡± to ¡°let him be yours.¡±


    I don¡¯t think she ever understood that a diary meant privacy. I never meant for anyone to read it, but not only did she read it¡ªshe told everyone.


    No one cared about the pain I felt when my secret was exposed. I was dragged out, nailed to a pir of shame, forced to pay for her so-called noble sacrifice.


    To my family, it was like I¡¯d been bumped up to the starting lineup out of nowhere, recing the golden girl¡ªI should¡¯ve been grateful. Even if Rhys had stabbed me in the gut, they¡¯d still find a way to excuse it.


    It was as if my parents had always hated me. No matter how much better I did than Katherine, they always saw me as bitter, as someone who couldn¡¯t protect her fragile pride.


    The searing pain on my cheek intensified.


    My fingers clenched tightly around the engagement ring. A wave of heat¡ªanger, humiliation, resentment¡ªrose in my throat.


    Hot tears welled in my eyes, blurring my vision. I blinked fast, wiping them away before they could fall.


    I would not cry. I would never show weakness in front of him.


    I took a heavy step toward the door, struggling to move. I had to get out of there, or I wouldpletely fall apart. Whatever shred of dignity I had left¡ªI couldn¡¯t let it be destroyed in front of this man.


    Rhys suddenly grabbed my wrist and yanked me back. ¡°Clean it up.¡±


    I looked up at him in disbelief, needing to confirm I¡¯d heard him right.


    ¡°You broke the mug. You clean up the pieces.¡± His voice was icy, absolute.


    He had to be insane.


    ¡°No.¡± I lifted my chin and spat the word without an ounce ofpromise.


    His face tightened, jaw clenched. ¡°You sure you want to do this?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I said no.¡± My eyes were red, but they zed with defiance as I stared him down without flinching.


    If love meant I had to grind my self-respect into the dirt, then it was worthless to me.


    The air between us was taut enough to snap. I could almost hear it crackling. The fury in his eyes was an uncontroble ze, threatening to consume me. And beneath that fire, I saw something else¡ªdisbelief. The once-docile littlemb had bared her fangs.


    He took a step closer, menace radiating from him. ¡°Last chance. If you don¡¯t obey me, then we¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªare over,¡± I finished for him, cold and final.


    Shock froze his face. For a moment, the air went still. He hadn¡¯t expected me to actually say it.


    While he was caught in that moment of confusion, I wrenched my arm free from his grip. The taste of freedom hadn¡¯t yet bloomed in my chest when he snapped back to life, grabbing my arm again with brutal force.


    Now.


    I spun around without hesitation and raised my hand¡ªSmack! A resounding pnded hard across Rhys¡¯s handsome, arrogant face.


    The air froze again, thick with silence.


    My palm tingled slightly, but it brought a rush of fierce, unprecedented satisfaction.


    Rhys staggered back a few steps, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief¡ªnot from the pain, but from a world turned upside down. He never thought I would dare. After all, I had once loved him so deeply.


    I lowered my hand, lifted my chin, and looked calmly at his stunned expression. I gave him a faint smile. ¡°Now we¡¯re even.¡±


    Without waiting another moment, I dragged my feet away from that suffocating hell.


    If I stayed even one more second, I would break down. I¡¯d rather choke on my own tears than let him see them fall.


    Then¡ªthud¡ªI fell.


    High heels and emotional chaos are a terrible match.


    Pain shot through my palms and knees as they scraped against the hard marble. Blood surged out instantly, but I barely felt it.


    I got up, grabbed my purse, and kept walking.


    Home. I just wanted to go home. Away from all of this. Away from him.


    Like a woman fleeing the scene of a crime, I burst out of the building¡ªonly to m into a wall of muscle and the intoxicating scent of expensive cologne.


    I looked up¡ªand saw sharp, sculpted features with an aura somanding it could silence a room. He looked like the kind of man who, if you pissed him off, wouldn¡¯t just ruin your life¡ªhe¡¯d erase your entire existence.


    Unfortunately, that only made him more attractive.


    For a second, I wished he would throw me over his shoulder and carry me to hisir¡ªmy face flushed red instantly. If this were a porno, the camera angle would be an absolute disaster.


    I snapped myself back to reality.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I mumbled and rushed into the elevator of my apartment building.


    Back upstairs, I rummaged through my bag. My heart sank.


    No keys.


    Of course. The universe had clearly dered today The End of Mira Day.


    Frustration and helplessness surged in my chest. I kicked off my heels and shook the doorknob violently. It didn¡¯t help¡ªbut I needed to let it out. Why did everyone always choose Katherine?! Hadn¡¯t I done enough?


    I copsed against the wall, sliding down to the cold floor as sobs tore from my throat. The tears came in a flood, impossible to stop.


    Just as I was nearly choking on my own cries, a voice¡ªlow, smooth, like ck velvet¡ªcut through the air behind me.


    ¡°Your key.¡±


    Fury sparked in my veins. Why did someone always interrupt me just when I was about to get it all out?


    Annoyed, I turned, ready to re¡ªonly to freeze.


    Through tear-blurred eyes, I saw him again. The man I had bumped into downstairs¡ªthe one who looked like he had stepped out of a Renaissance painting.


    ¡°Your key fell,¡± he said, raising an eyebrow as his gazended on the scattered contents of my purse. ¡°That¡¯s probably why you couldn¡¯t find it.¡±


    I stared at the key resting in his elegant hand, my face flushing so hot it could¡¯ve lit a match. I snatched it from him and fumbled to unlock the door, stumbling inside without a word.


    It wasn¡¯t until my back hit the door that I realized¡ªI hadn¡¯t even thanked him.


    Great job, Mira. You absolute idiot.


    Hesitating, I crept toward the peephole. Through that tiny lens, I saw him calmly turn, unlock the door directly across the hall, and stroll inside.


    He lived across from me?


    He must¡¯ve just moved in. With a face like that¡ªand that aura¡ªthere¡¯s no way I wouldn¡¯t have noticed before.


    Wait, Mira. What are you doing? You¡¯re seriously letting a hot new neighbor make you forget the hell Rhys just put you through?


    No. Absolutely not. All men are trash. Always.


    I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to steady my racing heartbeat, reminding myself not to be so stupid again. But no matter how hard I tried, that sculpted face kept shing through my mind.


    I needed ice¡ªfor my racing pulse, and more urgently, for the stinging pain on my cheek.


    Just as I forced myself up to head to the kitchen, my phone rang, shrill and sharp.


    One nce at the screen made my whole body go cold.


    Mom.


    I couldn¡¯t ignore the call. If I did, she would destroy my career without hesitation. She was absolutely capable of it.


    The moment I picked up, her voice sliced through the air¡ªcold and merciless.


    ¡°Mira, you must be insane! How dare you do something so disgraceful to Rhys! You apologize to him right now or you¡¯re no longer our daughter!¡±


    I opened my mouth to exin, stunned¡ªbut she hung up before I could get a single word out.


    I gripped my phone tightly. Why was it that no matter how hard I tried, I still couldn¡¯t earn even a sliver of their love? And Katherine¡ªshe never had to do anything, yet she was their perfect, precious jewel.


    Enough.


    I thought if I worked hard enough, my family, my fianc¨¦¡ªthey would love me.


    But that¡¯s never going to happen.


    I have to reim the self-respect I lost long ago.


    I have to break off this engagement with Rhys¡ªno matter the consequences.

 Chapter 2 Plan B

    <h4>Chapter 2: Chapter 2 n B</h4>


    For the next forty-eight hours, I became one with my bed.


    No calls. No outside world. Just me, a pile of nkets, and the crushing weight of humiliation.


    That p from Rhys wasn¡¯t just a blow to the face. In so many ways, it was a p across my entire life¡ªone steeped in desperation, delusion, and pathetic longing. It forced me awake. It forced me to look back on everything I¡¯d ever done to make him notice me, everything I did for a fantasy called ¡°us¡± that had never truly existed.


    God, where do I even begin?


    Like the time he casually mentioned he liked girls with smooth, silky hair. That night, I ordered three bottles of the shampoo he¡¯d once praised. My scalp broke out in hives. I smiled through the pain and said, ¡°It¡¯s fine¡ªsome allergic reactions are worth it.¡±


    Or when he told me he was too busy with work to grab dinner, so I stayed up learning how to bake and brought him a box of pastries in the rain. He didn¡¯t even open the door¡ªjust had the receptionist tell me, ¡°Don¡¯t bother next time. I don¡¯t like sweets.¡±


    Then there was that night at his friend¡¯s dinner party. I forced down oysters¡ªmy most hated food¡ªjust to seem ¡°graceful and agreeable.¡± I spent the entire night crouched over a toilet, writhing in pain until 3 a.m. He didn¡¯t ask if I was okay. Heughed and said, ¡°Can¡¯t even handle seafood? That¡¯s just dramatic.¡±


    But the worst?


    That time he quoted a line from The Godfather he liked. I stayed up all night reading film essays just to casually drop the quote at a party. I got it wrong. He corrected me in front of everyone, sneering, ¡°Don¡¯t pretend to like things you clearly don¡¯t understand.¡±


    And Iughed. Iughed and said, ¡°You¡¯ve got such a good memory.¡±


    What a joke. I never realized I was never the person he wanted.


    He never really saw me. To him, I was nothing more than a low-rent version of the ¡°perfect and untouchable¡± Katherine. A cheap stand-in.


    I wasn¡¯t her, but I could offer him the faint illusion of having her again. That was all I was good for.


    I buried my face in the pillow andughed until I shook. Not because it was funny¡ªbut because the pain had gone too deep for tears.


    Thankfully, after my parents delivered their final ultimatum two days ago, they hadn¡¯t contacted me again.


    A small part of me wondered¡ªdid Rhys intervene? Did he finally realize what he¡¯d done?


    Suddenly, the doorbell rang.


    And it didn¡¯t stop ringing.


    For a full five minutes.


    I groaned into my pillow. Oh god. Social interaction.


    Dragging my exhausted body to the door, I opened it.


    Ivan Carlisle¡ªmy best friend and the only person who had the legal right to yell at me¡ªstood on the other side, hands on hips. Then her eyesnded on my face.


    Her expression froze. The light in her eyes dimmed. ¡°What the hell happened to you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I said, trying to sound casual. She wasn¡¯t buying it.


    She reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. Her jaw clenched.


    Then¡ªsilence.


    Not the awkward kind. The dangerous kind. The kind thates right before something explodes.


    ¡°Who hit you?¡±


    ¡°Come inside,¡± I muttered quickly, trying not to draw the neighbors¡¯ attention. That would be mortifying.


    Ivan didn¡¯t move. She gripped my arm and spoke through gritted teeth. ¡°Mira. Who. Hit. You?¡±


    As soon as the door clicked shut, I copsed into her arms. My face buried in her sweater, and within seconds, the fabric was soaked.


    She didn¡¯t flinch. She just held me, her hand moving in calm, soothing circles across my back.


    I didn¡¯t know how long I cried. Long enough for my throat to burn and my nose to turn bright red like Rudolph. Eventually, I managed to force out a single word.


    ¡°Rhys.¡±


    Ivan didn¡¯t move.


    Everyone in Sky City knew that name. Rhys Granger wasn¡¯t the kind of man who needed to throw punches to destroy someone. One phone call to the right person, and your life would be over. Reputation, money, status¡ªhe had it all.


    Every move he made was deliberate, timed to perfection¡ªlike the ticking of a Rolex. When he chose to go to war, he was a nobleman wielding cruelty like fine art, probably with a ss of aged Scotch in hand.


    People called him arrogant. No one ever called him violent.


    That¡¯s why, when Ivan processed what I¡¯d just said, I could practically hear the gears in her brain screaming in protest.


    ¡°No way,¡± she muttered under her breath, as if denying it out loud might somehow make it untrue. ¡°Rhys? Your Rhys? He couldn¡¯t have...¡±


    I got it. I really did. Rhys was supposed to be the gentleman. The golden boy. The wless, elegant, untouchable good guy.


    ¡°It was him,¡± I said quietly.


    She exhaled sharply, then started rubbing my back again, this time slower. ¡°Tell me what happened.¡±


    I swallowed. ¡°I was at his ce. I, uh... identally broke a mug.¡±


    Her entire body tensed. ¡°Just a mug?¡±


    I nodded.


    Silence. Then she clenched her jaw and said, ¡°I swear to God, if you tell me it was some priceless, hand-crafted, one-of-a-kind family heirloom¡ª¡±


    ¡°It was Katherine¡¯s mug.¡±


    Ivan¡¯s hand froze mid-pat.


    Everything shifted. One second, she was my concerned best friend. The next, she was a woman plotting murder.


    I grabbed her wrist before she could get ahold of something worse. ¡°It¡¯s over between Rhys and me.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Really. Even if the earth split in two and Sky City sank into the ocean, I wouldn¡¯t marry him.¡±


    That stopped her from storming out tomit homicide.


    ¡°Katherine. That venomous snake¡ª¡± Ivan spat the name like it physically hurt her. ¡°She¡¯s not even here anymore and she¡¯s still managing to wreck your life! And your parents? They just stand there watching! I swear, they could watch her light your house on fire and they¡¯d hand her the matches. It¡¯s unbelievable!¡±


    I felt like a balloon someone had just popped¡ªdeted, exhausted. That all-too-familiar ache settled deep in my chest. I knew some parents would always love their firstborn more. And there was nothing I could do about it.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Mira.¡±


    Ivan sat down beside me and gave my head a firm push toward her shoulder. I pulled away and managed a weak smile. ¡°Actually, I think it¡¯s a good thing. At least I found out what kind of man he is before we got married. Better now than after the vows, right?¡±


    She let out a long sigh, her eyes softening. ¡°Mira, you know no matter what happens, I¡¯ve got your back.¡±


    Right then, my stomach growled loud enough to interrupt the moment. Loudly.


    Like a magician, Ivan reached behind her and pulled out a takeout bag, giving me a look that practically screamed: I knew you¡¯d be like this.


    I wanted to hug her, but I was too busy eating like a ravenous little goblin.


    After dinner, she pushed me into the bedroom and went off to clean up. Iy on the bed, staring at the ceiling, drained and overwhelmed. What now?


    Through the half-open door, I heard her on the phone. I didn¡¯t catch every word, but the ones I did hear... were iconic.


    ¡°A pile of shit.¡±


    ¡°Total fucking psycho.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you think that¡¯s bad? Wait till I tell you what this violent bastard actually did¡ª¡±


    She was probably talking to Zane Hasterton. And unlike Rhys, Zane would never raise a hand to her.


    The way Ivan so instantly, so fiercely chose me¡ªwithout hesitation, without question¡ªmade my throat tighten. She believed me. No one else did. But she did.


    This wasn¡¯t something she did lightly. Rhys¡¯s family sat at the very top of the food chain¡ªuntouchable. And I had no doubt her parents wouldn¡¯t be thrilled to see her go up against them.


    I curled deeper under the nket and let out a slow breath.


    Why couldn¡¯t my parents love me like that?


    Ever since their favorite daughter Houdini¡¯d her way out of their master n, I became n B. But that didn¡¯t mean they forgave my existence.


    Let¡¯s be honest: the only reason they¡¯d stopped actively berating me was because I got engaged to Rhys. That little arrangement somehow elevated me from ¡°irreparable family disgrace¡± to ¡°potential saving grace.¡±


    Part of the reason I agreed to the engagement¡ªand I know how pathetic this sounds¡ªwas because I thought maybe I could finally get something Katherine had: a sliver of parental affection. A crumb of approval.


    But now that the engagement was off?


    I was disposable again.


    Last I heard, they were boxing up my things, ready to ship me off to some remote jungle where I¡¯d spend the rest of my life befriending anacondas and repenting for my sins.


    They were absolutely capable of that.


    I groaned into my pillow. What the hell do I do now?


    Unless... I married someone more powerful than Rhys.


    The idea was so ridiculous I snorted. Right. Because billionaires are just wandering around Sky City hoping to marry a 23-year-old orphan with no patience for their bullshit.


    And yet¡ª


    A face shed in my mind.


    Three days ago. My new neighbor.


    I remembered, quite inappropriately, thinking I wouldn¡¯t mind being alone with him in his apartment where he could do all sorts of rated-R things to me.


    I shook my head, quickly banishing the thought. I didn¡¯t even know his name. Just that he had the kind of aura that could slice a person in half.


    No. Way too dangerous.


    I groaned again.


    If I hadn¡¯t broken that stupid mug, everything might¡¯ve been okay.


    But it wasn¡¯t. And it¡¯s not. And there¡¯s no going back.


    Fuck! Why am I the one trying to fix this when I wasn¡¯t even the one who messed it up?! I sat up¡ªand bam, the door burst open.


    Ivan marched in. ¡°Sleep is just going to make you feel worse. We¡¯re getting up, and we¡¯re going to find a dick worth loving¡ªone that¡¯s better than Rhys¡¯s.¡±


    WHAT?!


    While I gaped, she had already changed me into a new outfit.


    Just like that, we were off to Sky City¡¯s most exclusive club¡ªmembers only.

 Chapter 3 Rebound Night

    <h4>Chapter 3: Chapter 3 Rebound Night</h4>


    ¡°Is this really necessary?¡± I stood at the end of the line, shivering, tugging desperately at the hem of my tragically short skirt. I could practically feel it¡ªif I opened my mouth to speak, my underwear would be on full disy.


    ¡°Sweetheart, we paid a fortune to get into this ce. Of course we¡¯re going all kill. Do you not get it?¡± Ivanna dered like a mafia queen, standing tall against the icy wind in her five-inch heels without the slightest trace of fear.


    ¡°But isn¡¯t this a little too¡ª¡± I didn¡¯t even get to finish before a brutal gust of wind pped me across the face like it had a personal vendetta. I immediately yanked up the zipper of my puffer jacket and curled into myself like a frozen shrimp.


    Ivanna let out a dramatic groan. ¡°Mira,e on. We¡¯re going to a bar, not an Arctic expedition.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just d I won¡¯t be hospitalized for hypothermia tonight, thanks,¡± I snapped back.


    She rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might fall out of her head, gave me a once-over full of disappointment¡ªbut said nothing more. Small victory. My puffer jacket was safe¡ªfor now.


    I¡¯d thought we¡¯d have to wait in line like everyone else. That was the whole reason I wore this thermal fortress of a coat. But clearly, I had underestimated Ivanna.


    She had zero ns to follow the rules.


    With the ease of someone who¡¯d done this a thousand times, she slipped a rolled-up bill into the bouncer¡¯s hand, her palm casually grazing his rock-hard chest like a Bond girl who¡¯d forgotten her martini.


    Ten seconds. That¡¯s all it took. We were in.


    Ivanna was the kind of beautiful that made men forget protocol¡ªand ethics¡ªin an instant.


    And just like that, we breezed into Roxanne.


    The ce was thick with heat, perfume, and the effervescent scent of champagne. I ripped off my coat the second we stepped inside, only to be met with a ¡°are-you-trying-to-embarrass-me?¡± re from Ivanna.


    She handed her coat off to a passing server with a flick of her fingers, like she¡¯d personally hired the man. Regal, effortless, born for this.


    I tried to copy her moves. Failed miserably. Nearly dropped my purse and stumbled like a hamster who¡¯d just woken up from a freezer nap.


    Graceful? No. I looked like roadkill in Gi heels.


    If I hadn¡¯t known each cocktail here cost about the same as my checking ount bnce, I might¡¯ve even convinced myself I was pulling it off.


    ¡°Jesus Christ!¡± I gasped, eyes glued to the menu like it had just insulted my entire bloodline.


    Ivanna gave me a sideways nce and scoffed. ¡°Rx. Tonight¡¯s on me.¡±


    I exhaled with something dangerously close to gratitude. Considering I¡¯d nearly broken off an engagement, risked being exiled to some remote tropical ind by my parents, and needed to budget for anti-snake spray, I needed all the charity I could get.


    Price tags aside, the view was elite: ambitious young actors, outrageously good-looking models, and a legion of finance bros who looked like they gave TED talks while wearing Burberry.


    It was a glittering buffet of vanity and hormones, wrapped in velvet lighting and the illusion of power.


    We found a table near the bar and hadn¡¯t even ordered drinks when a bartender locked eyes on us.


    Well. He was hard to miss¡ªtall, sculpted features, sleeves rolled to the elbows just enough to show off well-trained forearms.


    He shouldn¡¯t be mixing drinks¡ªhe should be in the Louvre. Or at the very least starring in Dior¡¯s newest fragrance campaign. Maybe that¡¯s why this club was so expensive: even the staff had to be perfect.


    ¡°Two 75s, French brandy,¡±


    Before I could even locate the cheapest drink on the menu, Ivanna had already tossed her order at the bartender. ¡°Make it strong.¡±


    And of course, she didn¡¯t forget to sh her signature smile¡ªthe one that bnced perfectly between sexy and innocent, chin tilted just enough to say ¡°Oops, didn¡¯t mean to flirt¡±.


    The bartender reached effortlessly for the gin, giving her a half-smile. ¡°Rough night?¡±


    ¡°More like an engagement-level disaster,¡± she said, casually pointing her thumb at me. ¡°And it¡¯s wrapping up real soon.¡±


    I nced at her. ¡°Thrilled that my personal life is now public broadcast.¡±


    She patted my hand with mock sympathy. ¡°Sweetie, this ce runs on romantic catastrophes. Without bad decisions, no one would be buying drinks.¡±


    Then she turned away and melted into the crowd, flipping into Social Queen Mode like someone had hit a switch.


    In under ten seconds, shepleted a visual sweep¡ªlike a hawk zeroing in on prey¡ªbefore spinning back around and pointing her perfectly manicured finger toward the edge of the dance floor.


    ¡°Okay, listen. You need a rebound. Exhibit A: Six-foot-two, hair neater than your ex-fianc¨¦¡¯s moralpass, shirt unbuttoned just enough to scream sexy without slipping into cheap. He either owns a yacht or, at the very least, a VIP card.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°Nope.¡±


    Her eyes flicked to a new direction. ¡°Exhibit B: struggling musician. Dressed like payday hasn¡¯t happened yet, but he¡¯s hot enough you¡¯d forgive him. You¡¯d fund his next album and still sleep like a baby.¡±


    ¡°Pass.¡±


    She sighed, then pointed again. ¡°Fine. Exhibit C: total dad vibes¡ªbut the good kind. Like ¡®books your doctor¡¯s appointment and your breakfast¡¯ dad, not ¡®calls the waitress ¡®sweetheart¡¯ and thinks climate change is a myth¡¯ dad.¡±


    I groaned into my hands. ¡°Ivanna, please.¡±


    She didn¡¯t back down. ¡°Mira, you cannot sit here like a decorative wall gecko. Tonight is about rebooting your life, not stitching up emotional wounds.¡±


    Just as she geared up for a fourth round of rebound rmendations, she suddenly froze. It was like someone had hit mute on her entire system.


    Then, far too casually, she said, ¡°Hey, want to hit the bathroom?¡±


    I narrowed my eyes. ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°...Or maybe let¡¯s move tables? The vibe here¡¯s weird.¡± Her smile was tight, and her voice cracked like a pair of worn-out heels.


    Weird vibe? We¡¯d only been sitting for ten minutes, and we just ordered drinks. By Ivanna¡¯s standards, we hadn¡¯t even made it past the opening credits.


    Then I followed her gaze.


    A half-private booth.


    Rhys.


    He had his arm draped around a woman. Her head rested on his shoulder, makeup wless, smile polished and effortless.


    I didn¡¯t need more details.


    That face¡ªI would never forget it.


    Four years ago, a girl vanished under mysterious circumstances. I, in all my naive glory, believed she had simply ¡°stepped aside,¡± choosing to selflessly walk away from a future with Rhys.


    And now, here was Katherine¡ªperched on my ex-fianc¨¦¡¯sp, locked in a pose so intimate it looked less like a casual bar date and more like a budget version of Fifty Shades of Grey.


    I had told myself I was over it. Over him. We¡¯d broken up. It was done. Time to move on.


    Until I heard what came next.


    ¡°Honestly, I didn¡¯t think she¡¯d fall apart over a coffee mug.¡±


    Katherine¡¯s voice was soft, full of false pity¡ªthe kind that sounded like she¡¯d just killed someone and was now gently tucking a nket over the body.


    She gently swirled the wine in her ss, her lips curling into a near-perfect smile. ¡°Of course I put that mug somewhere obvious. I wanted her to notice. After all, she still doesn¡¯t know you¡¯ve been seeing me behind her back. It was time she caught a little hint, wasn¡¯t it?¡±


    She looked up at Rhys, eyes glowing with admiration. ¡°Honestly though, darling, your performance was spot-on. Even I almost believed you were worried she¡¯d find out about us, instead of just helping me pull off the scene. She¡¯s so stupid¡ªof course she thought you were upset about the mug, not terrified of exposing your affair.¡±


    Rhys chuckled softly, smug and rxed. ¡°I had to act like I cared. She spends every day trying to be the perfect girlfriend. If she found out all her effort still couldn¡¯tpete with you, she¡¯d lose it.¡±


    Katherineughed under her breath and patted his chest. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. Knowing Mira, she¡¯s probably still scrambling to fix things. She¡¯s the type who always believes that if she just tries hard enough, people will finally see her worth.¡±


    Herugh turned soft,ced with pity so sharp it felt like a de. ¡°But the harder she tries, the more pathetic she looks. And me? I just ¡®happened¡¯ to return home. Her parents don¡¯t know a thing. They didn¡¯t even get the chance to stop me. Tomorrow, I¡¯ll be seeing them in broad daylight¡ªbecause she gave up the engagement herself, and you, dear, are meless.¡±


    Katherine leaned back with a triumphant sigh. ¡°Isn¡¯t this the best ending? I never gave up on you. I was just waiting for her to step aside.¡±


    Rhys nodded slowly, a small smirk on his lips. ¡°You¡¯re right. You always are.¡±


    A loud roar filled my ears, and my heartbeat pounded against my skull like a war drum.


    Ivanna must¡¯ve been saying something¡ªpleading with me to stay calm, not to do anything stupid¡ªbut I didn¡¯t hear a word.


    I wasn¡¯t the same Mira who swallowed her pride for praise anymore.


    I slipped free from Ivanna¡¯s grip and turned to the bartender. ¡°Your best red. Put it on Rhys Granger¡¯s tab.¡±


    The bartender¡ªbless his beautiful, rule-breaking soul¡ªdidn¡¯t even flinch. He handed me the bottle like I¡¯d just ordered mineral water.


    With the bottle in hand, I had a mission. A singr, burning purpose.


    The bouncer moved to stop me, but one look at my face¡ªlike a vengeful goddess straight from hell¡ªmade him wisely back off, hands raised in surrender.


    I marched straight toward Rhys and Katherine. They were lip-locked in some dramatic, second-rate soap opera make-out scene.


    I raised the bottle¡ªand smashed it, with all my strength.


    ss shattered with a sharp crack, spraying across the table. Rhys¡¯s forehead split instantly, a trail of blood beginning to drip down between his brows.


    Katherine screamed and leapt off hisp. ¡°Mirabelle?! Are you insane?! What are you doing here?!¡±


    She scrambled to find a lie, panic rising in her voice. ¡°You¡¯re misunderstanding, it¡¯s not what you think¡ª¡±


    Rhys cut her off, his hand gripping her arm, his gaze dark and frigid. ¡°Don¡¯t bother exining, Katherine. It doesn¡¯t matter. My parents will take your side, no matter what. We¡¯re just correcting an old mistake.¡±


    Katherine¡¯s panic twisted into smugness in an instant. She curled into his side with sickening sweetness and cooed, ¡°Oh, honey, your head¡¯s bleeding. We have to get to the hospital.¡±


    Before I could say anything, Ivanna rushed to my side, fury radiating from every pore. She raised her hand, ready to p Katherine straight back to whatever pit she¡¯d crawled out of. ¡°You disgusting, two-faced bitch¡ª!¡±


    I grabbed her wrist, steady and cold. ¡°Ivanna, let them go. If they stay here one more second, I might lose my appetite permanently.¡±


    I locked eyes with Katherine¡¯s smug little face and raised my voice deliberately. ¡°After all, the theme of this ce is premium taste, not some clearance aisle for secondhand trash.¡±


    Katherine¡¯s smile froze on her lips. Rhys¡¯s face darkened, but they had no chance to respond.


    Ivanna, emboldened, lifted her chin and sneered at the bouncers. ¡°Well? What are you waiting for? Kindly escort these two walking health code vitions off the premises.¡±

 Chapter 4 Key Guy

    <h4>Chapter 4: Chapter 4 Key Guy</h4>


    As soon as they were gone, Ivanna dragged me out of the club.


    Damn it. I hated that Katherine had predicted every single thought running through my mind.


    Yes, I had still been considering salvaging my rtionship with Rhys.


    But now? The truth was right there, unmistakable and raw¡ªthey¡¯d been sleeping together behind my back all along. And me? I was just the foolish, unnecessary third wheel in their twisted little story.


    What I couldn¡¯t wrap my head around was¡ªwhy had Katherine faked her disappearance four years ago? What exactly had she been hiding? And whye back now?


    My eyes stung. I tilted my head toward the sky, forcing the tears back.


    Fine. Katherine¡¯s back. Perfect. Now they could all reunite like a happy little four-piece family?, and I... I was finally free.


    ¡°Mira... I¡¯m so sorry. I had no idea they¡¯d be there tonight. I didn¡¯t even know Katherine was back.¡± Ivanna¡¯s eyes were full of regret.


    I gave a bitterugh and shook my head. ¡°Neither did I. But I heard it loud and clear¡ªthey¡¯ve been screwing around for a while. To them, I was just in the way.¡±


    ¡°Those goddamn assholes!¡± Ivanna hissed through clenched teeth. ¡°You should tell your parents. Let them know Katherine¡¯s not the perfect angel they think she is. What about Rhys¡¯s parents? No way they¡¯ll tolerate a scandal like this.¡±


    I was quiet for a moment. Ivanna had a point¡ªRhys¡¯s parents were the only people who had supported me. But he was their son. They wouldn¡¯t choose me over him. Not in the end.


    And my parents? I let out a breath, heavy and tired. ¡°You know better than anyone¡ªthey only care about Katherine. No matter what I do, I¡¯ll never rece her.¡±


    Ivanna grabbed my shoulders, worry darkening her gaze. ¡°So what now? You¡¯re just going to let them humiliate you?¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡± My voice dropped to a whisper, a weariness weighing it down. ¡°Maybe if I ept it, it¡¯ll finally be over.¡±


    Suddenly, Ivanna¡¯s phone buzzed. She nced at the screen, brows knitting in frustration. ¡°Mira, my agent just called. There¡¯s ast-minute ad shoot¡ªI have to go now. Can you get home on your own?¡±


    I nodded, managing a faint smile. ¡°Go. Don¡¯t worry about me. I¡¯ll call when I get back.¡±


    After she left, I hailed a cab. Instinctively, I gave the driver my home address. But barely two minutes into the ride, a wave of suffocating pressure settled over me.


    ¡°No, wait,¡± I said quickly. ¡°Take me to a bar. Any bar. Just... far away from Roxanne.¡±


    The driver didn¡¯t blink¡ªclearly used to the erratic demands of Sky City¡¯s broken-hearted.


    We eventually pulled up outside some unfamiliar nightclub. Velvet ropes. A crowd of influencer-types wielding selfie sticks. I didn¡¯t bother checking the name. I handed the bouncer some bills and strode inside.


    Straight to the bar.


    ¡°Whiskey sour. Large. Keep theming.¡±


    ¡°Ma¡¯am, maybe you should slow down,¡± the bartender said gently, with concern.


    I mmed my empty ss on the counter and shoved my card across. ¡°Did I stutter? Top me off.¡±


    The bartender sighed, but obliged.


    ¡°That guy¡¯s right,¡± a smooth, maic voice murmured beside me. ¡°Too much alcohol can impair cognitive function and judgment. Unless you want to wake up in a stranger¡¯s bed tonight¡ª¡±


    I turned, irritated¡ªthen froze.


    It was him.


    The man fromst night. My new neighbor. The one who¡¯d handed me my keys with all the casual elegance of a Renaissance statue.


    ¡°Well, well. You again.¡± I raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at my lips. ¡°You really can¡¯t resist other people¡¯s business, huh?¡±


    He chuckled softly,pletely unfazed. ¡°Think of it as a well-developed instinct for being helpful.¡±


    I gave an exaggerated sigh. ¡°You¡¯re a hero, truly. But I don¡¯t need saving, Mr. Key Man.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± he said calmly, lifting his ss and taking a slow sip. His eyes were clear and sharp. ¡°But you do seem in desperate need of rity.¡±


    I frowned. ¡°Is this how you treat all your neighbors? First their keys, then their dignity?¡±


    Heughed¡ªa low, rich sound. ¡°Only when the neighbor looks like she¡¯s on the verge of self-destruction.¡±


    ¡°...But I am always self-destructing,¡± I muttered, suddenly quieter. ¡°Doesn¡¯t it seem kind of pathetic? Like my whole life is just one mess after another?¡±


    He didn¡¯tugh. He didn¡¯t rush to reassure me, either. He didn¡¯t even deny what I¡¯d just said.


    He just looked at me. Calm. Quiet. Like he was watching a slow-motion disaster unfold¡ªbut had no intention of stopping it.


    ¡°You¡¯re not wrong,¡± he finally said, voice low and steady. ¡°You are pretty good at making a mess of things. Like right now¡ªyou can¡¯t even stand properly and you¡¯re still demanding more alcohol.¡±


    I froze, frowning instinctively.


    But he went on, his tone unhurried¡ªlike he was flipping through a book and hadnded on a sentence he already knew by heart:


    ¡°But strangely, you always seem to meet someone who refuses to walk away... right before everything falls apart.¡±


    I stared at him, half in shock, half in suspicion. ¡°Are you... flirting with me?¡±


    He gave me a slow smile, his eyeszily curving with just the right amount of mischief. His voice came out smooth and provocative, like velvet wrapped around steel. ¡°Does it make you feel any better?¡±


    His voice was low and warm, like whiskey being poured into a ss at midnight¡ªjust a little dizzying, just a little dangerous. He looked at me with an intensity that felt nearly uncontroble, like he might lean in close and whisper things in the dark, on a bed, asking if his touch was hard enough.


    My heart skipped a beat. My cheeks flushed instantly. My fingertips tightened against the edge of the bar.


    I had to look at him properly. Really see him.


    That face¡ªit wasn¡¯t just handsome. It had the kind of quiet, devastating maturity that no amount of cologne and hair gel could fake. Not the kind you¡¯d find among the over-groomed boys who danced to house music like they were owed the world.


    A wild, uninvited thought shed through my mind.


    If I let him walk away tonight, maybe I was rejecting one of those rare, merciful moments when fate offered a second chance.


    Before I could stop myself, my hand wrapped around the sleeve of his suit jacket. I rose from the barstool, heart pounding.


    ¡°So, Mr. Keys,¡± I said, my voice hoarse but firm, ¡°since you¡¯re somitted to helping... why not help all the way?¡±


    He clearly hadn¡¯t expected that. His brow lifted slightly, surprise flickering across his face¡ªbut he didn¡¯t step back. He didn¡¯tugh. He simply said, calm and steady:


    ¡°Of course. As long as this is something you won¡¯t deny when you¡¯re sober.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡± I answered without hesitation.


    Gripping his wrist tighter, I pulled him through the crowd and out of the bar.


    The night wind struck us like a cleansing p, city lights flickering above.


    I didn¡¯t let myself pause. No time to think, no space for regret.


    We crossed the street. Entered the nearest hotel lobby.


    Because tonight, I needed to know if I had the courage to ept what fate had ced in front of me.


    It must have been one hell of a night, because when I woke up, sunlight was spilling through the curtains, and the red LED numbers of the digital clock blinked 10:07 AM at me with the judgmental smugness of a nun catching you sneaking out of the church.


    The sheets still carried his scent¡ªbergamot and sin¡ªand my body buzzed from the lingering aftershocks of what we¡¯d done.


    I stared at the ceiling and thought: That was absolutely phenomenal sex.


    The kind that wrecks you, delights you, and makes you stupid enough to want another round.


    I ached everywhere¡ªin the best, most regrettable way.


    But my head... my head was a battlefield. It felt like a hundred tiny jackhammers were drilling through my skull. The alcohol fromst night had dered mutiny, and my brain was paying the price, like someone had jammed a red-hot poker through my temple.


    I had no idea how much I drank¡ªdefinitely more than I should¡¯ve.


    The details had vanished into a fog thicker than a London morning.


    Groaning, I rolled out of bed. Groaned again. Began gathering the scattered pieces of my clothing.


    The n was simple: Get dressed. Sneak out. Pretend this never happened.


    I had just picked up my skirt when a voice stopped me.


    ¡°Leaving so soon?¡±


    Shit.


    I turned¡ªvery slowly, thanks to the hangover and the shame¡ªand saw him standing in the bathroom doorway, a towel slung low on his hips.


    Droplets clung to his abs, catching the morning light, trailing down the deep V of his torso.


    I stared. Unashamed.


    Images from the night before surged back into my brain. I suddenly felt... very, very thirsty.


    ¡°We need to talk,¡± he said.

 Chapter 5 Proposal

    <h4>Chapter 5: Chapter 5 Proposal</h4>


    ¡°We need to talk.¡±


    He stood in front of me, voice disturbingly calm¡ªlike he was announcing the fridge had broken, not that I had thrown him onto a bed the night before.


    Talk?


    My brain instantly began filtering keywords. Talk about what? A debrief? A review? Or was he proposing some sort of... ¡°long-term sexual partnership¡±?


    Definitely not a proposal. That only happens in soap operas written by people with chronic romance brain.


    Was he worried I¡¯d cling to him?


    After all¡ªit was me who started this.


    I was the one who dragged him out of the bar.


    I was the one who opened the hotel door.


    I was the one who pinned him down without a second thought.


    ¡°Look,¡± I said, adopting the most adult, ountable tone I could muster, st night was a mistake. A reckless, impulsive, but... undeniably enjoyable mistake.¡±


    I tried not to look at his shoulders. Not at his chest. Not at the water droplets sliding down his vicle, tracing the path over sculpted muscle.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to ask you to take responsibility. I won¡¯t call you crying about emotional trauma. I¡¯m not that kind of girl.¡±


    He didn¡¯t say anything.


    Seeing no reaction, I turned to the door¡ªcue graceful exit,plete with closure monologue.


    But just as my hand reached the doorknob, a warm, wet palmnded on the back of mine.


    I froze. Slowly turned around.


    He was looking at me with an expression I couldn¡¯t ce¡ªsomewhere between surprise and... seriousness.


    ¡°You don¡¯t remember me?¡± he asked softly.


    I blinked, thrown. I answered quickly, almost defensive: ¡°Of course I do. You¡¯re my new neighbor. Helped me find my keys the other night.¡±


    Technically true. Totally urate.


    What I didn¡¯t say¡ªand never would¡ªwas that even without those trivial interactions, I remembered him.


    That face was unforgettable.


    Or, to be more precise, that face, standing in front of me in just a white towel, with water dripping down those abs... yeah. Not something easily erased from memory.


    I swallowed hard.


    The trick was: don¡¯t look directly at him. Like an eclipse.


    Too bad that strategy hadpletely failed.


    Worse still, even though I was fully dressed and he was practically naked, somehow under his gaze, I felt like the onepletely exposed.


    I tried to speak¡ªsay something, anything to shift the attention.


    But he didn¡¯t ask again. He just stood there, watching me, as if waiting for the moment my real reaction would finally arrive.


    The silence stretched.


    Then he said, ¡°It¡¯s fine. Doesn¡¯t matter.¡±


    I blinked. What?


    ¡°Can I go now?¡± I asked, my voice dry. His hand still hadn¡¯t moved.


    He looked at me again, then¡ªunhurriedly¡ªsaid:


    ¡°Will you marry me?¡±


    ...


    WTF?!


    ¡°You¡¯re not serious.¡± I finally found my voice.


    ¡°I¡¯mpletely serious,¡± he replied, like he was announcing a quarterly investment n. ¡°I just returned to the country. My parents want me to get married as soon as possible. In their eyes, a married man means stability. And only a stable man can inherit the family business.¡±


    I fell silent.


    Two days ago, I swore I¡¯d bring home someone better than Rhys.


    Someone impressive enough to shut my parents up.


    And now, the universe had delivered an answer¡ªjust with a thickyer of irony.


    But I knew.


    Marriage shouldn¡¯t be like this.


    I¡¯d already lived through a love-less engagement once.


    What it left behind was a house full of silence, intimacy that felt hollow, and a slow, brutal erosion of my self-respect.


    I opened my mouth to say no.


    But at that moment, my phone rang.


    The sharp ringtone sliced through the quiet like a knife.


    I nced at the screen¡ªand felt like a bomb had gone off in my chest.


    Caroline Vance.


    My mother.


    Katherine was back.


    She must¡¯ve called to announce the beginning of something.


    I looked at that face¡ªfamiliar yet foreign¡ªthen back down at my phone.


    And finally, I said the words:


    ¡°I can¡¯t ept.¡±


    I walked out of the hotel suite, the ringtone still shrieking behind me.


    I answered not because I wanted to, but because I needed¡ªdesperately¡ªto sever this umbilical cord that kept dragging me back into the past.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you answer your phone? Were you trying to give me a stroke?¡±


    My mother¡¯s voice came rapid-fire, like a machine gun.


    ¡°I thought you were dead in a ditch or kidnapped by some maniac! Get home. Now. We need to talk.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m already on my way,¡± I said coldly, and hung up before she couldunch into round two.


    I gave the driver my parents¡¯ address and copsed into the backseat, like someone bracing for a colonoscopy without anesthesia.


    Okay. Let¡¯s get this over with.


    My neighbor¡ªaka my one-night stand¡ªwas probably insane.


    But while I still had a drop of alcohol-induced courage left in my bloodstream¡ªwhile the old Mira, desperate for love, hadn¡¯t crawled back in and taken over¡ªI had to move fast.


    I had to throw this shattered mess back in their perfect little faces.


    The Vance family estate sat in the kind of suburban enve that didn¡¯t wee anyone who couldn¡¯t afford a BMW. No subway stops. No bus routes. Just an elegantly phrased ¡°keep out, poor people.¡±


    At the wrought-iron gate, I inhaled deeply. I felt like a boxer walking into the ring. Shoulders squared. Chin lifted. Emotional armor locked and loaded.


    The moment I stepped into the living room, I could smell the ambush.


    My father¡ªFranklin Vance¡ªsat alone in his leather chair, wearing the same expression he probably used to fire underperforming hedge fund managers.


    Beside him, my mother, Caroline, with her wless hair and perfectly aligned pearl ne, smiled the way a doctor does when saying, ¡°The cancer¡¯s spread.¡±


    To their left, Rhys sat on the sofa, all solemn and brooding, as if waiting for a divorcewyer to direct his next pose.


    And on the right?


    Katherine, obviously.


    All we were missing was a gavel and a court reporter.


    This was a trial.


    I was the defendant.


    And the verdict had already been written.


    Mother struck first.


    ¡°What took you so long? I called you hours ago.¡±


    She crossed her arms, her tone colder than the AC.


    ¡°Traffic,¡± I lied.


    If I told them I¡¯d just escaped from a man in a towel, they¡¯d have me institutionalized.


    ¡°So? Why am I here?¡± My tone was sharp, iced over.


    No one answered.


    Not until Rhys stood, bandage still across his forehead.


    The sight of him looking vaguely wounded brought me the tiniest flicker of grim satisfaction.


    ¡°You left this at my ce,¡± he said slowly, holding something in his hand.


    ¡°Your bear rm clock.¡±


    I stared at it.


    A cheap, scuffed electronic clock shaped like a cartoon bear, its stic face scratched and faded from over a decade of use.


    And now, this relic was their opening move?


    Rage crawled up my throat, but I forced it down.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I said tly. ¡°That¡¯s... thoughtful.¡±


    I snatched the ridiculous little clock and turned to leave.


    Come on. No one calls a full-blown family meeting just to return a damn rm clock. I knew better. This was about humiliation. About putting me in my ce.


    They were the real family.


    I was always the outsider¡ªinvited in only when they needed a benchwarmer.


    ¡°Wait,¡± my mother said, her voice even colder than before.


    I paused. Didn¡¯t turn around.


    She folded her arms again and smiled¡ªthat tight, poisonous kind of smile you only see when a doctor says ¡°Stage four.¡±


    ¡°Now that Katherine¡¯s back,¡± she said, ¡°and since you and Rhys have broken up, we believe it¡¯s time¡ªhe and Katherine should be engaged.¡±


    I gave a short, humorlessugh. Turned around slowly, letting the sarcasm drip from my mouth.


    ¡°By all means. n whatever you want. Not like you¡¯ve ever asked for my opinion before.¡±


    ¡°We used to ask,¡± she said, voice turning sharp, ¡°back when you were still the sensible daughter. The one with potential.¡±


    She stepped closer.


    ¡°You¡¯re too emotional, Mira. Your insecurity made you paranoid¡ªusing Rhys, trying to control him. You didn¡¯t trust him, and that¡¯s what destroyed the rtionship.¡±


    Her words were des.


    Featherlight in tone.


    Ruthless in effect.


    ¡°So this is on you.


    And you¡¯ll make that clear in the press.


    Tell them you fell for someone else.


    That¡¯s why you ended the engagement.¡±


    I froze.


    Something tore inside my chest¡ªlike they¡¯d ripped it open with their bare hands.


    I looked at them, all of them¡ªmy parents, Rhys, Katherine.


    So calm. So calcted.


    Like a script they¡¯d rehearsed for weeks.


    What had I done to deserve this?


    Where had I gone so wrong?


    I was ready to explode. To storm out.


    But that¡¯s when my father finally stood.


    Like a judge preparing to read the sentence.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry about finding someone new,¡± he said with absolute finality.


    ¡°We¡¯ve already made arrangements¡ª¡±

 Chapter 6 Family Showdown

    <h4>Chapter 6: Chapter 6 Family Showdown</h4>


    I don¡¯t even remember how I got out of that house.


    All I had was one single, sharp conclusion echoing through my head¡ª


    I must not be their daughter.


    And I had to find out the truth.


    It was the only exnation I could cling to¡ªbecause otherwise, how could I live with the idea that my own parents were capable of being this cruel?


    The moment I got back to my apartment, I copsed into bed. I didn¡¯t move until my phone started ringing.


    It was Ivanna.


    I didn¡¯t wait for her to ask anything¡ªI just blurted out everything my parents had done.


    And, yes... I also told her about the one-night stand.


    I left out the proposal.


    Ivanna let out a scream so high-pitched it could probably shatter ss and murder all the nts in my apartment.


    ¡°You had a one-night stand?! And you didn¡¯t FaceTime me live from the scene?!¡±


    I switched the phone to speaker and tossed it onto the couch, slumping back into the cushions with my eyes closed.


    Her voice kept going like fireworks:


    ¡°Who is he? What mythological realm did this man descend from? Are you telling me you actually, finally, let Rhys go? Don¡¯t tell me¡ªhe looks like Michngelo carved him, or...¡±


    She paused. I could picture her sitting up on her sofa, wrapped in a nket, making that infamous, exaggerated gesture.


    ¡°A wand of unnatural proportions?¡±


    ¡°You are¡ªso. Incredibly. Annoying,¡± I groaned, dragging a pillow over my face.


    ¡°You¡¯re dodging the topic,¡± she snapped back instantly.


    Yes.


    Yes, I was.


    I never hid things from Ivanna. Not even the ugliest parts of my story.


    Not even...st night.


    I slept with a man whosest name I couldn¡¯t remember.


    Just to peel Rhys¡¯s residue off my skin¡ªfor a minute, an hour, a night¡ªwhatever it took to feel free again.


    Was it liberating?


    No.


    It was revenge, escape, a cocktail of both with a guilt chaser.


    But Ivanna wasn¡¯t here to judge me.


    She was here to douse the mes¡ªeven if it was only through the tiny speaker in my living room.


    ¡°At least tell me this,¡± she said suddenly, her voice lowering, softer. ¡°Was he hot? Like, close-your-eyes-and-you-can-still-see-his-brow-bone hot?¡±


    ¡°...Hot,¡± I muttered into the pillow.


    ¡°And when he touched you... did it feel like he knew you were something rare? Like you were a limited edition made just for him?¡±


    I clenched my jaw. Didn¡¯t answer.


    ¡°Oh my god,¡± she breathed.


    ¡°You actually slept with someone who was worth it.¡±


    I kept my eyes closed, and for some reason, that one sentence felt like a suture pulled gently over the tear in my chest.


    My parents¡¯ voices still echoed in my head¡ªsharp, suffocating, like burnt toast you couldn¡¯t scrape off.


    The way they¡¯d discarded me¡ªso clinical, soposed. Like tossing out a baby bottle that had outlived its use.


    ¡°Mira,¡± her voice shifted again, quieter, steadier. ¡°You can do anything. Screw up, break down, love the wrong person¡ªit¡¯s all fine. But you can¡¯t carry all of this alone anymore.¡±


    I said nothing.


    Just pulled my knees to my chest and pressed my face into them.


    ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± she whispered. ¡°Wherever you go. Whatever you do. I¡¯m here.¡±


    I didn¡¯t cry.


    I swear I didn¡¯t.


    I just clenched my jaw, shut my eyes tighter, and swallowed the words thank you like a pill I couldn¡¯t quite get down.


    I nced at the time.


    I had to go to work.


    Now that my parents had made it clear I was disposable, my job was the one thing I couldn¡¯t afford to screw up.


    Of course, they believed I worked as a barista.


    They¡¯d forbidden me from having a corporate job.


    In their minds, once married, I should be home full-time¡ªa perfect little housewife.


    So I never told them what I really did.


    Dragging my exhausted body out the door, I headed to Ground & Pound¡ªmy workce.


    The name? Chosen because the owner figured it had no real brand potential. Was it a sexy coffee shop? An underground MMA gym? Who knew? Who cared?


    But it was decent.


    Stable.


    And for now¡ªsafe.


    Well... until it no longer existed.


    ¡°Mira.¡±


    My boss, Benny, greeted me like I was his parole officer¡ªnervous, sweaty, probably two seconds away from peeing his pants.


    He was in his forties, wore a man bun that did no favors for his hairline, and his arms were covered in tattoos best described as regrettable¡ªone of which included a goat wearing sunsses.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to be here today. I was just about to call you...¡± He stared at the floor. ¡°You¡¯re not on the schedule anymore.¡±


    Excuse me?


    ¡°You¡¯ve been... let go. I¡¯m really sorry. I didn¡¯t want to, but... I got a call. From your mom.¡±


    My stomach dropped.


    ¡°She threatened to report us, said she¡¯d have our license revoked if I didn¡¯t fire you.¡± Benny kept staring at the floor. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I couldn¡¯t do anything.¡±


    ¡°She runs a luxury skincarepany, Benny. Not the goddamn FBI.¡±


    He shrugged helplessly. ¡°She said she¡¯d report us for health code vitions. And you know she¡¯s got connections. She could actually pull it off.¡±


    I took a deep breath. Yelling at Benny wouldn¡¯t do anything. This wasn¡¯t his fault.


    Before I did something stupid¡ªlike hurl a milk jug out the window¡ªI stormed out.


    I didn¡¯t hate that job. Being a barista was just a side hustle.


    What really paid the bills¡ªwhat no one knew except Ivanna¡ªwas my jewelry design.


    Ever since I was a kid, my mom had told me I was average. Ordinary. Talentless. Every time I tried to shine, she dragged me back into her shadow.


    Eventually, I learned to obey. I buried my ambition, wore gray feathers like a peacock pretending to be a pigeon.


    So no, I didn¡¯t care about losing the coffee shop job.


    What infuriated me wasn¡¯t unemployment. It was that this¡ªthis power move¡ªwas her.


    Her fingerprints were all over it.


    It was her punishment. A response to me trying to escape Rhys. Trying to escape her.


    She was sending me a message:


    You don¡¯t get to walk away.


    I can destroy any scrap of pride you think you¡¯ve earned¡ªwith one finger.


    If she thought I¡¯de crawling back, like I used to, begging for her approval...


    She could go to hell.


    I wasn¡¯t her puppet anymore.


    I was done ying the good girl.


    Thirty minutester, I shoved open the front door of the Vance estate.


    No knocking. I didn¡¯t care.


    I hade ready to start round two of our family war.


    What I found instead was something far worse.


    My parents were sitting on the ivory couch in the living room, sipping wine worth more than my rent,ughingughing¡ªwith a man I didn¡¯t recognize.


    The scene was picturesque. Like they¡¯d stepped right out of How to Host the Perfect Suburban Power Dinner.


    The man looked like a slimy, watered-down version of a 1950s mogul¡ªmaybe one who¡¯d spent time in white-cor prison and came out with a tailor.


    Custom suit. Shirt unbuttoned to mid-chest, revealing a patch of chest hair that looked like someone had just trimmed a Christmas wreath.


    His teeth were too white, his smile too polished¡ªlike greed dipped in varnish.


    ¡°Darling,¡± my mother cooed, sweet as syrup, e meet Mr. Leonard Shaw, CEO of Alcott Shipping. A true self-made man. There¡¯s so much you could learn from him¡ªabout turning raw talent into real sess.¡±


    It hit like a scented hammer to the face.


    Leonard grinned ear to ear. His eyes¡ªno, his eyes went straight under my skirt.


    ¡°Lovely to meet you, Miss Vance,¡± he said. ¡°I do hope we get to talk more. I always enjoy mentoring young women. Especially smart, beautiful ones like yourself.¡±


    I didn¡¯t bother hiding my expression.


    It wasn¡¯t disgust. It was nausea.


    He was practically licking his lips.


    I could hear the soundtrack of Indecent Proposal ying in his head.


    ¡°Mira,¡± my mother warned in that sugar-coated threat tone, ¡°don¡¯t be rude. Shake Mr. Shaw¡¯s hand.¡±


    I didn¡¯t move. I didn¡¯t even blink.


    If someone had thrown a roon at me in that moment, I¡¯d have hugged it over touching Leonard¡¯s hand.


    Caroline¡¯sugh rang out, high and brittle, like she was trying to cover up my resistance.


    ¡°Young people are so sensitive these days, aren¡¯t they?¡± she said to Leonard, with the practiced tone of someone saying she¡¯lle around.


    Leonard just waved it off. ¡°I like a girl with a little fire.¡±


    Yeah, and I like dentists who don¡¯t need pliers. We can¡¯t all get what we want.


    And my father¡ªthe same man who, just days ago, told me ¡°we¡¯ll take care of everything¡±¡ªwas now nodding at Leonard like a hotel concierge hoping for a good tip.


    That¡¯s when I understood.


    This wasn¡¯t an introduction.


    It was a presentation.


    I was the product on disy tonight.


    This wasn¡¯t about meeting a ¡°promising single man.¡±


    This was a sale. I was being marketed like a financial package with a bonus gift.


    When Leonard finally left¡ªleaving behind a cloud of cologne and a trail of sleaze¡ªI turned to face them.


    ¡°What the hell was that?¡±


    My mother raised her wine ss, took a slow, triumphant sip.


    ¡°That,¡± she said with a smile, ¡°was your future husband.¡±

 Chapter 7 - 8 Threats

    <h4>Chapter 7: Chapter 8 Threats</h4>


    I blinked. Then snorted. ¡®You¡¯ve officially lost the plot. You¡¯re pimping me out to a man who looks like he gets senior citizen discounts.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t be dramatic,¡¯ Mum snapped, though her voice stayed polished and posh. ¡®If you won¡¯t marry Rhys, you¡¯ll have to marry someone. You don¡¯t get to float around like some spoiled socialite with no value. That¡¯s not how this works.¡¯


    I stared at her. ¡®So, this is it? I dump Rhys, and suddenly you¡¯re throwing me at the next billionaire with a functioning heart valve?¡¯


    Mum pursed her lips like she was trying not to roll her eyes. ¡®I was furious when I heard about the state of your rtionship with Rhys. Especially your attitude yesterday. You were cold. Rude. Disrespectful. You embarrassed me. But the situation, as it turns out, could still be salvaged.¡¯


    ¡®Right, because now that your precious Catherine¡¯s back in Skyline City, suddenly it¡¯s ¡°convenient¡± I¡¯m out of the way,¡¯ I said, unable to stop the bitterness from slipping out.


    Mum didn¡¯t even blink. ¡®It is convenient. Rhys and Catherine have history. They¡¯re better suited.¡¯


    ¡®So I did you a favour then.¡¯


    ¡®You didn¡¯t do me a favour,¡¯ she snapped. ¡®You created a mess. Without Catherine¡¯s timely return, what you did may have seriously offended the Grangers. Do you have any idea how valuable that connection is? You don¡¯t want Rhys? Fine. But you¡¯re going to make it right by finding another match¡ªand soon.¡¯


    ¡®No,¡¯ I said tly.


    Mum leaned forward, that terrifying stillness settling over her face¡ªthe kind that always came before she did something diabolical. ¡®I invested a fortune raising you. Education. Clothes. Debutante nonsense. Do you think that was free? You¡¯ve done nothing for the family, Mirabelle. At the very least, you owe us a strategic alliance. It¡¯s the least you can do.¡¯


    I scoffed. ¡®Send me an invoice then. I¡¯ll pay back whatever little expense I¡¯ve cost you. But I¡¯m not selling myself to the highest bidder just so you can recoup your ¡°investment¡±.¡¯


    Throughout the mother-daughter debate, Frank¡ªdarling Daddy¡ªjust sat there. Silent. Supportive in the way that meant ¡®I¡¯ll let your mother destroy you and offer you a biscuit afterwards.¡¯


    I turned to Mum again. ¡®That wasn¡¯t why I came back. Why the hell did you call my boss? You got me fired.¡¯


    ¡®That was the price of disobedience,¡¯ she said coolly. ¡®You don¡¯t get to disrespect me and walk away unscathed. And Rhys deserved better than your tantrum yesterday. You embarrassed all of us. You should be thinking about how to make things right instead of behaving like a brat. I suggest you start by making a date with Leonard Shaw.¡¯


    I clenched my fists. ¡®I¡¯m never marrying Shaw. Or any other sleazebag you dig up from your Rolodex of corporate creeps.¡¯


    Mum was utterly unfazed. ¡®You¡¯ll fall in line. You always do.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯ve already cost me my job. I don¡¯t even live at home anymore. There¡¯s nothing else you can take from me.¡¯


    Her smile was slow. Cold. ¡®Don¡¯t be so sure. I can do plenty. You like your apartment, don¡¯t you? Shame if yourndlord suddenly decided your lease was void.¡¯


    My stomach dropped.


    ¡®And that best friend of yours... what¡¯s her name? Yvaine? Her parents¡¯ little family business still depends on our supplierwork. That could change. Fast.¡¯


    I stared at her,pletely stunned. ¡®You wouldn¡¯t.¡¯


    ¡®Would you be willing to risk it?¡¯


    The way she said it, I knew¡ªwithout a shred of doubt¡ªthat she meant every vile syble.


    Caroline Vance didn¡¯t run a Fortune 500pany, but she did run my father like a high-end Roomba, and Daddy dearest was neck-deep in Skyline City¡¯s business scene. If she wanted to destroy someone¡¯s livelihood, all she had to do was give the word.


    I didn¡¯t have a choice. Not really. I couldn¡¯t let Yvaine get caught in the crossfire of my family¡¯s twisted drama. If someone had to go down, it wasn¡¯t going to be her.


    So I went on the offensive.


    ¡®I can¡¯t marry Shaw, because I¡¯m already engaged,¡¯ I said, with the conviction of someone who absolutely wasn¡¯t but desperately needed to be.


    Mum actually blinked. ¡®You¡¯re what?¡¯


    ¡®Engaged,¡¯ I repeated, casually inspecting my nails like I wasn¡¯t making this up on the spot. ¡®Met someone incredible. Very powerful. We¡¯re getting married.¡¯


    Dad gave a little cough like he¡¯d just woken up from a nap. ¡®That¡¯s not possible. You were engaged to Rhys for years. You broke it offst week.¡¯


    ¡®Well, it¡¯s been a productive week,¡¯ I said, shing my most deranged pageant smile. ¡®Turns out, I rebound very well.¡¯


    Mum narrowed her eyes. ¡®Who is he?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯ll meet him soon enough,¡¯ I said, lifting my bag and stepping towards the door. ¡®I¡¯ll bring him home for dinner sometime. And I promise, he¡¯ll make your Leonard Shaw look like a budget haircut in a back alley barbershop.¡¯


    ¡®Mirabelle¡ª¡¯


    I left before she could start interrogating me.


    Back at my t, I flopped onto the sofa like a copsing deck chair and groaned.


    I was furious. Not just at Mum¡ªthough her high-handed, Machiavellian meddling had definitely earned her a prime spot on my personal hit list¡ªbut at myself. Because after all these years of therapy, wine, and telling myself I was immune to her maniptions... she still got under my skin like glitter in a carpet.


    And now I¡¯d gone and thrown a bloody fianc¨¦ into the mix like I was auditioning for a Hallmark Christmas special, minus the snow, the charm, or the actual fianc¨¦. The woman would suss me out in three business days, max. Probably sooner if she skipped brunch.


    I needed to make my little lie true. Somehow. I needed a man who oozed enough wealth and power to make my mum clutch her pearls and my dad reach for his investment portfolio. Someone untouchable. Impressive. Preferably with enough bite to make them both second-guess every smug word out of their mouths.


    Too bad every eligible guy I knew who fit the bill was either married, morally bankrupt, or part of Rhys¡¯s polo-ying inner circle.


    ¡®Shit,¡¯ I muttered, burying my face in a throw pillow.


    Then, just as I was ready to spiral into a full-blown panic, a face floated into my brain.

 Chapter 8 - 9 Let’s Make a Deal

    <h4>Chapter 8: Chapter 9 Let¡¯s Make a Deal</h4>


    I stopped outside his door, took a deep breath like I was about to skydive without a parachute, and knocked.


    No going back now. Not unless I fancied throwing myself down the stairwell.


    The door swung open almost immediately, leaving me zero time to panic or bolt.


    There he was¡ªin a suit. A proper one. Not the kind you wear for a Zoom meeting or to make your ex jealous on Instagram, but the sort that whispered ¡®money¡¯ and ¡®I don¡¯t queue for anything, ever.¡¯


    He looked like he was on his way out.


    Maybe a date.


    Probably with someone tall, elegant, and dangerously immune to carbs.


    Regret made a swift U-turn in my gut, and I took a tiny step back, already rethinking everything.


    But then he gestured for me to wait. He was on the phone, looking very much like a man who closed deals before breakfast. He held up a hand, mouthed ¡®one second¡¯, then pointed inside.


    I stepped into his t, trying not to look too nosy while absolutely snooping.


    It was about the same size andyout as mine, but the vibe was all different.


    Where mine screamed ¡®early-twenties chaos with a side of IKEA regrets¡¯, his felt sleek. Understated. Expensive in that annoying way where you knew each item had a brand name that required a six-month waitlist and a blood oath.


    Still, it didn¡¯t feel lived-in. No clutter, no mess, no personality. More hotel suite than home.


    Either he¡¯d just moved in like I suspected, or he barely slept here. Which, fair enough. He didn¡¯t look like the type who needed more than four hours of sleep or any kind of throw cushion.


    Before I could finish my impromptu Cribs tour, he ended the call and turned to me, eyebrow raised in question.


    Right. Time to stop gawping.


    I pulled out the cheque I¡¯d written and held it out.


    ¡®For the shirt,¡¯ I said. ¡®The one I sort of shredded during our, uh, you know...st time.¡¯


    He looked at the cheque. ¡®I don¡¯t need it.¡¯


    ¡®I know. But I do. Need to give it, I mean.¡¯ I set it on his ss coffee table.


    He didn¡¯t reply. And I suddenly had absolutely no idea what to do with my limbs. My arms were weird. My legs were traitors. The silence swelled between us like a balloon full of awkward.


    Then he moved closer.


    Just a step. Barely even that. But it was enough.


    ¡®What¡¯s the real reason you came?¡¯


    I froze. Every muscle in my body tensed.


    Being this close, I was forcibly reminded of just how tall he was¡ªand how much he radiated that very specific, very male sort of danger. That raw, unfiltered, primal energy that made my instincts twitch like I was standing in front of something wild and untamed.


    He wasn¡¯t doing anything. Just leaning in, breathing the same air. But my pulse was suddenly doing parkour in my neck and my mouth was dry.


    It wasn¡¯t fear, not exactly. It was that same instinctual thrill you¡¯d get if you were face to face with a leopard in the wild¡ªwell-fed, maybe, but still looking at you like it hadn¡¯t ruled out dessert.


    Even if there was ss between you and the ws, your body still clocked that you were in the presence of a predator.


    My palms were sweating. My knees had opinions about gravity. My fight-or-flight response was going through a full-blown crisis.


    All because this man, this maybe-dangerous, possibly-rich, definitely-hot neighbour was looking at me.


    And here I was about to pitch the world¡¯s most deranged idea: fake marriage. Casual pretend engagement.


    Just your everyday ¡®hey, can you be my incredibly powerful and slightly terrifying fianc¨¦ so my parents will stop trying to marry me off to the highest bidder?¡¯


    Yeah. No way this was going toe across as anything butpletely unhinged.


    To stall, I said, ¡®You mentioned a proposal that time... back at the hotel? I didn¡¯t really catch the details.¡¯


    He raised an eyebrow. ¡®That¡¯s funny. Because I seem to remember I¡¯m the one asking the questions right now, and you still haven¡¯t answered me.¡¯


    Right. That.


    My mouth opened, and before I could stop myself, the words just... spilled out. ¡®I want to marry you.¡¯


    There was a beat of silence. Then he blinked.


    ¡®I mean¡ªnot really marry you,¡¯ I added in a rush, the dam well and truly broken now. ¡®I mean yes, technically, but not romantically. It¡¯s fake. A cover. A bluff. A strategic performance. My parents¡ªokay, my mum¡ªhas basically gone full viin mode and is trying to auction me off to some obscenely wealthy fifty-year-old who owns like, half the shipping industry and is on the hunt for Wife Number Five, and if I don¡¯t show up with someone even richer and more terrifying, she¡¯s going to force me into some grotesque merger of souls and assets. I¡¯ve got three days to conjure up a billionaire fianc¨¦ with serious scary-man energy, and the list of avable candidates is currently: you.¡¯


    I finally paused to breathe, chest heaving like I¡¯d just finished a sprint, which, emotionally speaking, I had.


    He didn¡¯t say anything. Didn¡¯tugh. Didn¡¯t call building security. Just studied me for a second like I was a crossword puzzle that had started solving itself.


    And then he nodded.


    ¡®Alright,¡¯ he said.


    I blinked at him. ¡®Sorry¡ªwhat?¡¯


    ¡®Okay,¡¯ he repeated, like this sort of thing happened to him all the time. ¡®I¡¯ll do it.¡¯


    I stared. My brain short-circuited so hard I half expected to smell burnt toast. ¡®Just like that?¡¯


    He shrugged. ¡®My family¡¯s been on my back about finding a wife. I¡¯m not interested in dating. Your proposal happens to solve my problem too.¡¯


    Oh.


    He went on, ¡®In fact, that was what I was trying to bring up back at the hotel, before you left.¡¯


    I was speechless.


    ¡®I¡ªthis feels... surreal,¡¯ I said, blinking at him like he¡¯d grown another head. ¡®I mean, me needing a fake fianc¨¦ at the exact same time you¡¯re in the market for a fake fianc¨¦e? What are the odds¡ª? Wait, just to be clear,¡¯ I added hastily, ¡®it is a fake fianc¨¦e you are looking for, right? Not a real one, I mean.¡¯

 Chapter 9 - 10 Fake Engagement

    <h4>Chapter 9: Chapter 10 Fake Engagement</h4>


    ¡®Fake, of course.¡¯ I caught the faintest trace of a smile as he answered. ¡®And arranged partnerships for mutual benefit happen more often than you think. We¡¯re just skipping the dinner dates and going straight to the paperwork.¡¯


    And then he gestured for me to sit down, pulled out a sleek ck notebook, and began listing terms. Like this was a bloody client meeting.


    I sat through the whole thing in a fog, nodding along as we discussed timelines, appearances, and what counted as eptable hand-holding.


    At one point, he used the phrase ¡®public intimacy quotient¡¯, and I had to fight the urge to check if this was all some borate prank being livestreamed on TikTok.


    Even after we¡¯d shaken on it, I still felt like I¡¯d slipped into an alternate reality where men said yes to fake marriages without blinking and I somehow wasn¡¯t being scammed.


    ¡®There¡¯s a party in three days,¡¯ he said casually, like it was no big deal. ¡®I¡¯ll need you there. It¡¯s time to announce our engagement.¡¯


    He paused, looking at me with that predator calm again.


    ¡®And I¡¯ll do the same for you, with your family. Let¡¯s give them a show they won¡¯t forget.¡¯


    ***


    I left his apartment in a daze, drifted back to mine like I¡¯d just been abducted by aliens and deposited back on Earth without the instruction manual.


    Even when I slid into a booth across from Yvaine at our usual dinner spot, I still felt like I¡¯d identally wandered out of my own body and into someone else¡¯s wildly overdramatic Netflix show.


    ¡®Hello? Earth to Mira.¡¯ Yvaine waved her hand in front of my face. ¡®You look like someone just told you your t¡¯s been repossessed by a cult.¡¯


    I blinked myself back to thend of the conscious and gave her the rundown. Getting fired from the coffeehouse, my mother¡¯s role in it, the continued repercussions of my cutting ties with Rhys, everything.


    Yvaine¡¯s face scrunched up like she¡¯d just tasted battery acid. She let out a string of expletives so colourful it could¡¯ve qualified as abstract art, most of them directed at my mother. I politely ignored the bit where she called Caroline a ¡®fire-breathing dementor in a Chanel suit¡¯.


    ¡®That¡¯s not why I called you,¡¯ I said, waving away the job thing. ¡®You know I couldn¡¯t care less about the barista job. I mean, yes, RIP to my 40% staff discount, but that¡¯s where the mourning ends.¡¯


    ¡®Still,¡¯ Yvaine huffed, ¡®that¡¯s no excuse for what Caroline pulled. I mean, does she wake up and choose viiny every morning or is it a spontaneous thing?¡¯


    Before she could continue her spirited campaign to have my mother tried for emotional war crimes, I hit her with the real headline.


    ¡®I¡¯ve, uh... sort of gotten engaged.¡¯


    Yvaine froze mid-sip. Her eyes went so wide I was half-worried they¡¯d roll right out of her head and into her cappino.


    ¡®Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯ve gone back to Rhys.¡¯


    ¡®God, no.¡¯ I made a face like she¡¯d just suggested I marry my cousin. ¡®This is worse. Or better? I don¡¯t even know anymore.¡¯


    Iunched into the full saga: my mother trying to auction me off to the Skyline City edition of Daddy Warbucks, my desperate bluff about already having a more powerful fianc¨¦, and how I somehow ended up convincing my absurdly hot neighbour ¨C who also happened to be my rebound one-night stand ¨C to go along with the madness.


    Yvaine didn¡¯t interrupt once. Her eyes just kept getting bigger until I was convinced she was morphing into a human bush baby.


    ¡®Right,¡¯ she finally said, after a long pause and possibly some internal screaming. ¡®Now I¡¯m dying to meet this mystery man.¡¯


    ¡®You will. There¡¯s a party in three days. He wants to make the engagement public. You know, the usual fake fianc¨¦ PR package. I¡¯ve got you an invite.¡¯


    Yvaine nodded slowly, as if her brain was still buffering. Then she raised her coffee mug. ¡®I suppose this calls for a celebration.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s a fake engagement.¡¯


    ¡®Yes, but no one else knows that, do they? Besides, I¡¯m not celebrating that. I¡¯m celebrating the fact that you¡¯ve finally told Caroline where to shove it. And that you¡¯re officially free of Rhys the walking red g.¡¯


    I clinked my mug against hers. ¡®I¡¯ll drink to that.¡¯


    And we did. Then we smiled at each other. Yvaine had this uncanny talent for turning total chaos into a party theme. With her around, even my absolute train wreck of a life felt kind of... fun.


    ¡®This calls for wine, not caffeine,¡¯ she dered, snapping her fingers at a passing waiter. ¡®Bring us the wine list!¡¯


    It was shaping up to be a properly celebratory afternoon.


    Right up until Rhys waltzed into the same bloody restaurant.


    With Catherine hanging off his arm like a Dior handbag.


    She swanned over to our table and gave us this wide-eyed look of manufactured surprise and went, ¡®Oh! Mira? I didn¡¯t expect to see you here.¡¯


    Before I could say anything remotely scathing, she leaned in just enough to seem intimate and murmured, ¡®Mum mentioned you¡¯re seeing someone now... an older gentleman, wasn¡¯t it? Mr Shaw, I think?¡¯


    She said it casually, but her eyes flicked to Rhys, like she wanted to make sure he was catching every word.


    Then came the sigh, soft, almost regretful. ¡®I believe he¡¯s been through, what... four divorces?¡¯


    She let that hang in the air just long enough to sting, then added, with this serene, saintly little smile, ¡®But of course, to each their own.¡¯


    Her tone was all indulgent big sister, the kind who wouldn¡¯t dream of judging your choices out loud, even though she was clearly dying to hand you a pamphlet titled Why You¡¯re Doing It All Wrong.


    Rhys¡¯s expression shifted like someone had just told him his stocks had tanked. He looked straight at me, eyes all moody and brooding, and demanded, ¡®So this is why you ended the engagement?¡¯


    I briefly considered baptising them both in merlot, but this ce was far too ssy for that kind of scene. Also, I really didn¡¯t want to end up on a viral TikTok titled ¡®Local Woman Loses It in Midtown Bistro¡¯.


    Yvaine crossed her arms, eyes zing, and sneered at Rhys like she was seconds away fromunching her drink at his face. ¡®You of all damn people know exactly why Mira ended the engagement. Don¡¯t you dare stand there and y the victim¡ªyou¡¯re not fooling anyone.¡¯


    She gave him a disappointed look. ¡®You know, I used to think you were better than this. Turns out I was giving you way too much credit.¡¯


    Then she tilted her chin towards Catherine with a cold little smirk. ¡®You two really are a perfect match. Trash finds trash, after all.¡¯


    Rhys¡¯s face went redder than the merlot in my ss. ¡®Say that again and your modelling career¡¯s over.¡¯


    That¡¯s when I¡¯d had enough.

 Chapter 10 - 11 Evicted

    <h4>Chapter 10: Chapter 11 Evicted</h4>


    ¡®Shut it, Rhys,¡¯ I snapped. ¡®You know damn well why I broke things off. So do us all a favour and back off.¡¯


    He clocked the death grip I had on the wine bottle and caught the look in my eyes¡ªthe same look that said I wouldn¡¯t think twice about smashing it over his infuriating head again, just likest time.


    Rhys froze. The look on his face was absolutely priceless. Like I¡¯d just walked up and pped him with a frozen salmon.


    He simply couldn¡¯tpute the fact that I was no longer the starry-eyed doormat who used to treat his words like gospel. Probably still catching up from that time I¡¯d literally pped him during our breakup.


    Honestly, I don¡¯t think his ego had recovered.


    Before Rhys could open his mouth again, a manager in a suit so sharp it could¡¯ve sliced air walked over. He looked at Rhys and Catherine like they were yesterday¡¯s expired prawns.


    ¡®Sir, ma¡¯am, I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re now on our banned list. You¡¯re no longer wee here. Ever.¡¯


    Rhys spluttered like a clogged kettle. ¡®W-what? You can¡¯t be serious.¡¯


    Instead of exining, the manager waved over security. Two veryrge men in very small earpieces started making their way towards our table.


    Rhys kept yelling something about how he¡¯d ¡®file aint¡¯ or whatever nonsense billionaires shout when things don¡¯t go their way.


    Catherine just hissed something under her breath and followed him out, her heels clicking like angry punctuation marks.


    Once the chaos walked itself out, the manager turned to me with a faint, polite smile. ¡®Apologies for the disturbance, miss. Your dinner tonight is on the house.¡¯


    I blinked at him. ¡®That¡¯s... very generous of you.¡¯


    ¡®My pleasure,¡¯ he said smoothly. ¡®You¡¯re a highly valued patron here at La Vache Dor¨¦e.¡¯


    ¡®Highly valued¡¯. Right. I¡¯d been here maybe twice this past month, and both times I¡¯d ordered the cheapest set menu and split a dessert with Yvaine.


    I eyed the manager, whom I¡¯d vaguely recognised from those visits¡ªalways polite, always professional, but never this... chummy. He gave me big energy of someone who wouldn¡¯t notice me in a line-up unless I¡¯d set the restaurant on fire.


    Before I could probe into his sudden generosity, he handed me a ck card embossed with the restaurant¡¯s logo.


    ¡®The owner asked me to pass this along. You¡¯re wee to dine here, anytime. No charge.¡¯


    He gave me a little bow and disappeared into the kitchen before I could so much as sputter a refusal.


    Yvaine gawked at the card. ¡®Wait, what? Mira, do you know the owner of this ce?¡¯


    I shook my head. ¡®No.¡¯


    But I had a hunch who it might be.


    ***


    When I got back to my t, still riding the high from watching Rhys and Catherine get chucked out of the restaurant like a couple of misbehaving toddlers, the universe decided I¡¯d had enough fun for the night.


    Myndlord was waiting by my door, fiddling with his keys like they were rosary beads. Mr Donnelly, mid-fifties, who always smelled faintly of microwaveable shepherd¡¯s pie and wore socks with sandals, gave me a look like I¡¯d just run over his cat.


    ¡®Miss Vance, I¡¯m really sorry,¡¯ he said, scratching his head in that way men do when they¡¯re about to say somethingpletely shitty but want to look sympathetic while doing it. ¡®There¡¯s going to be some, ah, urgent renovations. Safety stuff. You¡¯ll need to, ah, vacate the apartment by the end of the week.¡¯


    Right. And I was the Queen of Ennd.


    I could practically hear my mother¡¯s voice behind his. Guess she¡¯d made good on that charming threat.


    I nodded. ¡®I¡¯ll be gone in two days.¡¯


    No arguments. No begging.


    No point.


    He gave an awkward nod and shuffled off, probably to microwave another shepherd¡¯s pie.


    I¡¯d expected this. Just didn¡¯t expect my mother to move this fast.


    Moving wasn¡¯t an issue. I could afford somewhere better. Bigger. With windows that didn¡¯t jam and a kitchen that didn¡¯t double as a sauna every time I boiled water.


    Hell, I could¡¯ve offered Mr Donnelly double the rent and he¡¯d probably have wept with joy and epted.


    But that would¡¯ve been like duct-taping a crack in the Hoover Dam.


    Even if I stayed, my mum knew where I lived. The calls, the visits, the threats dressed up as motherly concern¡ªnone of it would stop unless I gave in and married Leonard Shaw or whatever crusty aristocrat she dug up, or found a man powerful enough to scare her into silence.


    Speaking of which...


    I was halfway through mentally packing my jewellery tools and wondering if my nextndlord would let me solder in the living room when it hit me¡ªI¡¯d agreed to fake an engagement with my very attractive neighbour, and I didn¡¯t even know his bloody name.


    Brilliant.


    In my defence, I¡¯d been a little preupied during that meeting, mostly with the way his shirt hugged his shoulders.


    And also with the very inconvenient, very vivid shbacks to that night in the hotel room. The one with all the foggy bits and thepletely uncalled-for heat.


    So when he started going on about the details of our arrangement, I was too busy staring at his mouth and wondering if it still tasted the same to take in much of anything else.


    Still. Minor detail.


    I scribbled a note:


    Hey, just a heads-up¡ªI¡¯m moving out in two days. Long story. Here¡¯s my number in case you still want to go ahead with the whole fake fianc¨¦ thing. Name¡¯s Mira, by the way. Cheers.


    I tucked it under his door across the hall. The lights were off, no sound from inside.


    He was probably out doing hot mysterious things. Like brooding on a rooftop or teaching orphans how to box or whatever handsome men do when they¡¯re not identally getting roped into fake rtionships.


    Then I went back to my t, plonked myself on the sofa, opened myptop, and typed ¡®apartments that won¡¯t ruin your life¡¯ into the search bar.


    Rhys rang just as I was elbow-deep in a bag of cheesy crisps, trying to ignore my tragic life by watching an aggressively cheerful baking show.


    I answered because I was in a good mood and didn¡¯t bother to check caller ID.


    Stupid of me, really.


    He didn¡¯t bother with small talk. ¡®Dinner. Tomorrow night. With my family.¡¯


    I leaned back on the sofa and stared at the ceiling like it owed me an exnation. ¡®Rhys, we¡¯re not together anymore. In case your memory¡¯s as selective as your morals.¡¯


    He huffed. ¡®My mother wants to see you.¡¯

 Chapter 11 - 12 Blackout

    <h4>Chapter 11: Chapter 12 ckout</h4>


    That stopped me. Just for a second.


    Louisa Granger. The only member of that gically cursed family I¡¯d actually liked.


    She used to call me her ¡®darling girl¡¯ and meant it. She remembered my birthday. She bought me books I actually read. She once told me I had a fire in me and that it was beautiful.


    Meanwhile, my own mother thought my jewellery designs were a hobby I¡¯d grow out of and that fire belonged in fireces or hell.


    ¡®Come to dinner,¡¯ Rhys carried on, his tone clipped. ¡®Just don¡¯t say anything to her about... y¡¯know. Us.¡¯


    Of course he wanted me to lie for him. Again.


    ¡®Wow. Brave of you,¡¯ I said, voice sharp enough to julienne a courgette. ¡®What happened to that big manly energy you were showing off with Catherine? If you¡¯re so smitten, why not bring her to dinner and introduce her to the fam? Or are you worried Mummy might not approve of your shiny new mistress?¡¯


    He didn¡¯t reply. I didn¡¯t wait for him to.


    I hung up, tossed my phone on the sofa, and muttered, ¡®Bloody coward.¡¯


    ***


    Half past ten, I¡¯d just put down the TV remote and dug out an unfinished sketch from my tablet, thinking I could snack my way into some inspiration.


    I barely got two bites of leftover lo mein in before the lights cut out like a budget horror film. One second I was basking in LED brilliance, the next I was plunged into darkness, lit only by the ghostly glow of my tablet screen.


    I practicallyunched myself off the sofa. My heart did a triple backflip before I realised it was just a ckout. Again. Because of course this bloody floor had the electrical stability of a soggy biscuit.


    I fumbled for my phone and rang Mr Donnelly. No answer. I called again. Still nothing. ssic Donnelly¡ªless ¡®property manager¡¯, more ¡®professional ghoster¡¯.


    I wouldn¡¯t have put it past him to fake a ckout just to speed up my moving out.


    I¡¯d already said I was leaving. Did he really need to go full superviin with the power supply?


    No wonder this ce was cheap. Faulty wiring and andlord who disappeared faster than my willpower around cake. Still, for rent that low, I couldn¡¯t stay mad for long.


    Besides, I was out of here soon enough.


    Grumbling under my breath, I groped my way into the stairwell to check the fuse box. Of course it was mounted at a height best suited for NBA yers.


    I¡¯m nearly 5¡¯7" and had to stand on tiptoe like I was doing pirouettes in the dark¡ªonly with more swearing and less grace.


    Not that it helped. I stared at the jumble of switches like it was written in hieroglyphics.


    ¡®Bloody hell,¡¯ I muttered, returning to fetch a chair before I electrocuted myself out of sheer guesswork.


    Just as I reached my door, the neighbour¡¯s door eased open.


    And there he was.


    Like me, he was using his phone as a torch, which gave me a clear view of his face. His fringe, usually styled like a GQ cover shoot, was loose and damp, making him look about five years younger and way too good-looking for the average tenant.


    Droplets slid from his hair down his neck, past his corbone, down over muscles that really needed a warningbel.


    The man had on nothing but a towel.


    Just. A. Towel.


    And judging by the little rivers of water tracing down his torso, he¡¯d rushed out of the shower to investigate the ckout without bothering with trivial things like clothes.


    I tried very hard not to ogle.


    I failed spectacrly.


    To be fair, it was like being hit in the face with a very well-sculpted Greek statue.


    A very wet, half-naked, annoyingly sexy Greek statue.


    Last time I saw him, he¡¯d been dressed to the nines in a tailored suit. I hadn¡¯t expected him to be this... stacked.


    It was like finding out your ountant moonlighted as a Calvin Klein model.


    My brain short-circuited for a moment. I just stood there, tantly gawking like some creep on a stag do.


    He caught me staring. Of course he did. His eyes¡ªpartly hidden under a mess of damp fringe¡ªcrinkled ever so slightly.


    Then he nced at my ears, probably clocking that they were turning the same colour as a cherry slushie, and finally turned back inside.


    He came back a minuteter wearing a white T-shirt.


    I blinked and cleared my throat.


    Now that he was fully clothed¡ªor at least pretending to be¡ªthe tension eased a bit and my brain came back online.


    Iunched into an exnation about the ckout and the fuse box situation. ¡®Sorry to bother you. I didn¡¯t expect the power to go out at this time of night, and thendlord¡¯s decided to ghost me.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s no bother,¡¯ he said in that deep, low voice that probably doubled as white noise for insomniacs.


    He brushed past me and headed to the fuse box. He didn¡¯t even have to stretch. Where I¡¯d nearly dislocated my toes trying to reach it, he just flicked the switches like he was turning on a light in a fridge.


    Must be nice, being tall and useful.


    He squinted at the fuse box for a moment, flicked another switch, then muttered, ¡®Looks like the main breaker¡¯s loose. Might¡¯ve been knocked about¡ªcheap casing, maybe. I¡¯ll see if I can tighten it up.¡¯


    ¡®Oh, okay,¡¯ I said, nodding along like I was following, even though my brain had already clocked out of the electrical conversation and checked into the gym that was his back.


    The white cotton T-shirt clung to him in all the right ces¡ªor maybe it was just thin enough to show off everything he had going on underneath. Every time he moved, muscles shifted under the fabric like they were choreographing a silent dance routine.


    It was hypnotic. Like watching bread rise. Orvamps. But hotter.


    I must have been staring at his back like a total weirdo for a full two minutes before I remembered I was supposed to be helping, not leering.


    I cleared my throat. ¡®If it¡¯s a hassle, don¡¯t worry about it. It¡¯ste anyway. I should probably just call thendlord in the morning.¡¯


    Without turning around, he said, ¡®There¡¯s a storage room near the stairs. Might be a pair of pliers in there. Grab them for me.¡¯

 Chapter 12 - 13 Runaway Libido

    <h4>Chapter 12: Chapter 13 Runaway Libido</h4>


    The hallway outside was still pitch ck, so I used my phone¡¯s torch to sweep the walls like I was on a ghost-hunting show.


    Eventually found the storage room, which was basically a hoarder¡¯s fever dream. Tools, nails, screws, boxes¡ªan entire DIY graveyard dumped in a single corner.


    The pliers were buried somewhere in the back like they owed someone money.


    I stretched up, teetering on my toes, reaching for them like I was auditioning for Swan Lake: Apocalypse Edition.


    Just as I grabbed them, my foot rolled over something suspiciously round and untrustworthy. I yelped, lost my bnce, and iled like a human car dealership balloon mid-windstorm.


    There were nails all over the floor. Actual nails. Pointy and plentiful. The sort of thing that would absolutely ruin my chances at open-toed heels ever again.


    But the pain never came.


    Instead, a pair of strong arms wrapped around my waist and hauled me upright like I weighed less than a bag of crisps.


    ¡®Careful,¡¯ he muttered, voice low.


    My heart was still trying to yeet itself out of my chest.


    I couldn¡¯t see him¡ªhe was behind me¡ªbut every one of my senses had dialled up to a hundred in the dark.


    His breath skimmed my neck, warm and low. The heat of his hands burned through the fabric of my top, fingers firm against my waist like he was built for catching wayward women in stairwell idents.


    And his scent¡ªJesus. Freshly showered, with that crisp, clean smell of soap that definitely cost more than my weekly grocery shop. Something ridiculous, like ¡®Alpine Seduction¡¯ or ¡®Boardroom Temptation¡¯.


    Whatever it was, it had no business being that sexy.


    The second I felt steady again, I pulled away from his arms.


    And then the lights flicked on.


    I blinked twice and shuffled a few feet away, putting what I hoped was a respectable amount of space between us. ¡®You fixed it?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah,¡¯ he said. ¡®Go check your ce. See if everything¡¯s back to normal.¡¯


    ¡®Right. Yeah. Cool.¡¯ I tossed the pliers onto a nearby shelf and fled.


    I legged it back to my t like someone had lit a fire under my arse, and it wasn¡¯t until the door clicked shut behind me that I realised I hadn¡¯t thanked him.


    Or asked if he¡¯d seen my note.


    Basic social stuff. Stuff I usually didn¡¯t mess up.


    Normally, I wasn¡¯t like this. I wasn¡¯t the type to go all wobbly-kneed and tongue-tied because of one hot guy.


    But apparently, close physical proximity to the man short-circuited my entire personality. One minute I was Mirabelle Vance, functional adult with working vocabry, and the next I was a glitching mess who couldn¡¯t even make eye contact without overheating.


    And really, how was I meant to stayposed?


    He was standing there in a damp towel and a clingy T-shirt so thin it might as well havee with a viewer discretion warning.


    The man¡¯s presence didn¡¯t just affect me¡ªit practically rewired my hormones.


    I was genuinely impressed I¡¯d managed to escape before he noticed how the heat of his skin had turned my spine to jelly, or how close I¡¯de to full-on swooning.


    Me. Swooning.


    Like some Regency heroine who¡¯d misced her smelling salts.


    I shook my head violently, trying to scrub the image of him from my brain.


    Him in that towel. Drops of water trailing down his neck.


    That scent¡ªclean, crisp, outrageously masculine.


    ¡®Pull yourself together, Mira.¡¯ I softly banged my head against the door. ¡®You¡¯re not a blushing virgin or a hormonal teenager. You¡¯ve seen abs before. Hell, you¡¯ve had abs before.¡¯


    My phone buzzed. I checked it with dread.


    Not Rhys. Thank God.


    Unknown number: Saw your note. Noted about the moving out. Do you need help finding a new ce? I have some suggestions if you¡¯d like. Name¡¯s Ashton, by the way.


    Oh. So that¡¯s his name.


    Social etiquette whispered that I should probably call him. Thank him for the ckout rescue.


    Or, I dunno, discuss the uing party where we were supposed to debut our fake engagement.


    The fact that he¡¯d texted meant he was awake.


    And probably shirtless.


    I stared at my phone, debating.


    Going over there at this hour felt like tempting fate.


    Or more urately, tempting myself to do something wildly inappropriate, like climb him like a tree and make very questionable choices.


    I didn¡¯t trust my judgement. Late night was prime territory for reckless decisions and identally catching feelings.


    Or feelings-adjacent hormones.


    So instead, I sent back a safe, responsible message: Thanks for the offer, but I¡¯ve got several ces in mind already. Good night.


    ***


    The night came with dreams so vividly R-rated, my therapist would probably need to show ID before I could legally describe them.


    I woke up with a groan muffled into my pillow, brain still stuck in the haze of sleep and scandalous fantasies.


    And, of course, there he was¡ªAshton. Bloody Ashton. Ashton with the abs you could grate cheese on. Ashton with arms so sculpted they looked like they¡¯d been Photoshopped by Zeus himself. Ashton with¡ª


    Right, no. Stop it, Mira. I mentally pped my libido and told it to sit in the corner and think about what it¡¯d done.


    I spent the morning apartment-hunting to distract myself and the afternoon sketching designs for a jewellery line that the studio might use in their nextunch.


    I ordered takeaway, stayed firmly indoors, and basically avoided all windows like I was in witness protection¡ªbecause if I so much as glimpsed Hot Ashton again, there was a non-zero chance I¡¯dbust on the spot or attempt to lick his abs.


    Rhys didn¡¯t call again to chase me down for the family dinner.


    Either he¡¯d finally grown a pair, or he¡¯d weaselled his way out of it without me.


    I wondered if he¡¯d dragged Catherine back to meet the family, then rolled my eyes and dismissed it.


    His mum, Louisa, had always had a personal vendetta against Catherine.


    Something about her being too sharp, too slick, and too obviously after the Granger family fortune.


    Louisa¡¯d probablybust if she knew Rhys and Catherine were rekindling their ex-from-hell me.


    Speak of the devil.


    Louisa¡¯s name shed across my phone screen.


    I hadn¡¯t called her since the breakup. I¡¯d needed a breather to sort through the emotional wreckage, but apparently my breather had expired.


    I stared at the phone, weighing my options: keep pretending I¡¯d moved to a remote ind with no signal, or grow a spine and deal with it.

 Chapter 13 - 14 Crash

    <h4>Chapter 13: Chapter 14 Crash</h4>


    I answered the call.


    ¡®Louisa...¡¯ I sounded sheepish, even to myself.


    I could ghost Rhys with no regrets, but Louisa was a different story. She¡¯d always treated me like family¡ªsometimes more than my actual family did¡ªand I couldn¡¯t bring myself to be cruel to her.


    If she was calling now, she probably already knew about the split. Either Rhys had miraculously grown a pair and told her, or he¡¯d been his usual cowardly self and she¡¯d sensed something was off.


    ¡®Mira.¡¯ She cleared her throat like she was bracing herself. ¡®I know Rhys has been aplete idiot, but you¡¯ve been engaged for two years. The wedding¡¯s next month, sweetheart. This isn¡¯t the time to throw a tantrum.¡¯


    So he did tell her. Colour me shocked. Or maybe Catherine was the one who pushed him into it, like she did with everything else.


    I didn¡¯t want to upset Louisa. I really didn¡¯t. But there were some hills a girl had to die on, and this particr hill had ¡®no to marrying a man who drools over his ex¡¯ spray-painted all over it.


    ¡®Louisa, I think you already know what went down between Rhys and Catherine,¡¯ I said, voice as even as I could manage. ¡®They¡¯re perfect for each other. Honestly. He¡¯s always had a thing for her. It¡¯s best to let them get on with it.¡¯


    ¡®Mira, don¡¯t be like this. I know you love Rhys.¡¯ Her voice was soft, almost pleading. ¡®I¡¯ll give him a proper talking-to, get him to end things with... with that woman. Sweetie, I know you¡¯re hurting¡ª¡¯


    That cracked something in me. Just a little.


    I swallowed hard, eyes stinging.


    I¡¯d been braced for Louisa to tear me a new one¡ªfor ruining the Granger name, for embarrassing Rhys in front of Skyline City¡¯s upper crust, for not ying my part as the dutiful almost-daughter-inw.


    But instead of going full Crue, she¡¯d said I was hurting. That she understood. And somehow, that made it worse.


    I let out a long, tired sigh.


    This wasn¡¯t our first breakup rodeo. Back in the day, whenever Rhys and I hit a rough patch, Louisa would swoop in with homemade cookies and guilt-trips, and I¡¯d melt faster than ice cream at a barbecue. I couldn¡¯t ever stay mad when she looked at me like I was already part of the family.


    And maybe that¡¯s what made me stick it out with Rhys for so long. I wasn¡¯t just trying to make it work with him¡ªI was trying to honour her.


    But this time, I¡¯d had enough of bending backwards just to keep everyone elsefortable.


    ¡®Louisa, this isn¡¯t some one-off,¡¯ I said, voice steady even though my heart felt like it was chewing itself apart. ¡®Rhys never really let go of Catherine. Not then, and not now. It¡¯s only gotten worse. I¡¯m done pretending I¡¯m okay with it.¡¯


    There was a pause. Then her voice came back, thinner, raspier.


    ¡®Marriage isn¡¯t some joke, Mira. I¡¯ve always seen you as my daughter-inw. I mean that. I¡¯ll talk to Rhys. I will. I¡¯ll make sure he cuts ties with that woman. Please, darling, just give him one more chance. Even if it¡¯s just for me.¡¯


    I could visualise her through the phone¡ªperched on her white leather sofa, the one she jokingly imed was ¡®Italian but secretly from IKEA¡¯, hair in its usual glossy helmet, pleading like her entire life hinged on this conversation.


    And for a second, I wobbled.


    Just a little.


    Then I looked up.


    The apartment was full of half-packed boxes. My jewellery tools were stuffed into a cardboard wine case, and my coat was still hanging off the door like it hadn¡¯t decided whether to stay or bolt.


    I remembered exactly why I was moving.


    I remembered my mother threatening Yvaine¡¯s family business just to shove me into a forced engagement, while treating Catherine like the seconding of Beyonc¨¦.


    And suddenly, I wasn¡¯t wobbly anymore.


    If I caved now, I¡¯d lose every shred of self-respect I had left.


    ¡®I mean it this time, Louisa,¡¯ I said slowly, each word deliberate. ¡®This isn¡¯t a tantrum. It¡¯s not a bluff. I¡¯m not marrying Rhys, I¡¯m sorry.¡¯


    There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end.


    ¡®But¡ªbut you and Rhys were fine just a few weeks ago. What happened? Are you seriously calling off the wedding?¡¯ Her voice was shaking.


    ¡®I¡¯ve made up my mind. I¡¯m not doing this out of spite, Louisa. It¡¯s not a phase. I¡¯m done.¡¯


    ¡®Mirabelle!¡¯ she cried, as if saying my full name would magically change my mind. ¡®I can¡¯t ept¡ª¡¯


    BANG.


    A deafening crash burst through the phone speaker. I heard metal screaming against metal, the sound of everything going sideways in a split second.


    ¡®Louisa?! What the hell¡ªLouisa?!¡¯


    I gripped my phone so hard my hand went numb.


    There was more chaos¡ªshouting, screeching, static¡ªthen the call cut out.


    My stomach did a nosedive into my boots.


    ¡®Louisa?¡¯ I called again, voice shaking.


    Nothing.


    The line was dead.


    I redialled Louisa¡ªno answer. Tried Rhys¡ªnothing. Even called Clive Granger, Louisa¡¯s husband¡ªvoicemail.


    The silence on the other end wasn¡¯t just eerie. It was wrong. Really bloody wrong.


    Heart thudding like a drumline on Red Bull, I grabbed my bag and phone and bolted. Smashed my phone against the doorframe on the way out¡ªcue a loud ¡®shit!¡¯¡ªthen managed to drop my purse on top of it. ¡®Damn it!¡¯


    I crouched down to scoop everything up, hands shaking like I¡¯d just downed five espressos.


    The call had ended way too suddenly, too violently. That crash¡ªit didn¡¯t sound like bad signal or a phone dropped on the floor.


    Was Louisa hurt? Was anyone with her? Had someone called emergency services?


    My brain spun itself into a meltdown spiral while I tried¡ªand failed¡ªto shove my lip gloss, keys, and everything else back into my bag.


    I was so caught up in my internal catastrophe I didn¡¯t notice the lift ding or the footsteps approaching.


    Not until someone knelt in front of me and ced steady hands on my trembling shoulders.


    ¡®What¡¯s wrong?¡¯

 Chapter 14 - 15 Emergency Room

    <h4>Chapter 14: Chapter 15 Emergency Room</h4>


    My head jerked up.


    I recognised Ashton. My ridiculously attractive neighbour.


    ¡®I think... someone I know might¡¯ve been in an ident.¡¯ I swallowed my rising panic. ¡®I need to get to the Grangers¡¯.¡¯


    The second I got enough brain cells online to function, I fumbled for my phone and ordered an Uber.


    I stood up, wobbly, and made it two steps before Ashton caught my arm. ¡®Let me drive you.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m fine, I can¡ª¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯ll take ages to get a ride from here,¡¯ he said, already pulling me towards the lift like I¡¯d agreed. ¡®My car¡¯s downstairs. It¡¯s faster.¡¯


    He wasn¡¯t wrong. Also, I wasn¡¯t in the mood to argue. Not when my nerves were having a full-blown seizure.


    As the lift descended, Ashton made a quick call¡ªsomething low and calm in that velvet voice of his.


    When we reached the lobby, a sleek ck car was already waiting at the kerb. A guy who looked like his assistant handed over the keys, then melted into the night.


    ¡®Passenger side,¡¯ Ashton said, nodding at the car.


    The night air pped some sense back into me. I climbed in without a word.


    Ashton slid into the driver¡¯s seat, took the wheel, and floored it.


    Only once we were barrelling through traffic did it ur to me I had zero clue where we were even going.


    I dug out my phone. ¡®I need to call someone, figure out which hospital¡ª¡¯


    Ashton tapped his Bluetooth earpiece and answered a call with a smooth, ¡®Yeah.¡¯


    Before I could get through to Louisa, Rhys, or even Clive bloody Granger, he ended the call and said, ¡®Louisa Granger¡¯s at Eldergrove Private.¡¯


    I stared. ¡®How the hell¡ª?¡¯


    He kept his eyes on the road. ¡®I had my assistant check emergency admissions in the area. You said car ident, mentioned the Granger name. It wasn¡¯t exactly a needle in a haystack.¡¯


    I was too impressed to respond.


    Ashton went on, ¡®Louisa Granger was admitted ten minutes ago. She was conscious when they brought her in, but she¡¯s being treated now. Multiple injuries.¡¯


    I gripped my hands together in myp. My whole body tensed, spine peeling away from the seat like I couldn¡¯t sit still even if you superglued me down.


    She¡¯d been rushed in for emergency care. That meant serious. That meant... it could be bad. Life-or-death bad.


    Ashton nced at me, then tapped something on the touchscreen embedded in the dashboard. Soft, calming music began to y¡ªsomething instrumental and mellow.


    ¡®She¡¯ll be okay,¡¯ he said.


    The music helped. So did the subtle scent wafting through the car, something clean and woody that I was ny-nine per cent sure wasing from Ashton himself.


    We drove in silence for a bit. Then he asked, ¡®She means a lot to you?¡¯


    I nodded. ¡®She¡¯s probably the best parental figure I¡¯ve got,¡¯ I said, then threw in a dry littleugh. ¡®Honestly, she¡¯s been more of a mum to me than my actual mum.¡¯


    Saying it out loud felt weirdlyforting. Like I could finally exhale without choking on the panic. Something in me started to unclench, just a little.


    I couldn¡¯t help thinking about when I was little and Mum used to make me wear Catherine¡¯s hand-me-downs. Picture seven-year-old me drowning in a sparkly unicorn jumper two sizes too big, looking like I¡¯d been mugged by a clearance rack.


    Aunt Louisa hated that. She¡¯d whisk me off to hers for dinner, clock my tragic outfit, and the next thing I knew, we were in a department store and she was holding up dresses like we were auditioning for The Great Kiddie Style Intervention. Then she¡¯d march straight over to my mum¡¯s and start a row that could probably be heard in the next district.


    After I got engaged to Rhys, every time I got sick¡ªwhich, to be fair, was no more than once a year¡ªAunt Louisa was the one sitting beside my hospital bed, feeding me soup and telling the nurses off like she owned the ce.


    Even without her saying it out loud, I was starting to realise she didn¡¯t just see me as a future daughter-inw. She¡¯d already decided I was hers.


    I lowered my head and wiped my eyes.


    Had I been selfish breaking things off? Maybe I should¡¯ve just yed along¡ªmarried Rhys, be Mrs Rich-and-Repressed, and lived the rest of my life with perfectly curled hair and zero opinions.


    Ashton¡¯s driving was fast and smooth. We pulled up outside the hospital in record time. The second the tyres kissed the kerb, I shoved the door open and jumped out.


    The cold pped me right in the face. I hunched my shoulders but didn¡¯t slow down. At the emergency desk, I asked for Louisa Granger. The nurse gave me the once-over¡ªmessy hair, red eyes, possibly a rtive¡ªand said, ¡®Eighth floor. Trauma unit.¡¯


    When I got there, I saw Rhys pacing like he was about to challenge the vending machine to a fistfight.


    ¡®How¡¯s Louisa?¡¯ I asked, bracing myself for the worst.


    ¡®Still in surgery. She only went in a few minutes ago,¡¯ he muttered, running a hand through his perfectly gelled hair like that would magically calm him down. ¡®The doctor said she¡¯s got a fractured arm, a busted knee, and some internal bleeding they need to sort. Nothing life-threatening, but they¡¯ve got to operate.¡¯


    My shoulders dropped half a centimetre, just enough to register non-catastrophic relief.


    But then the guilt swanned in.


    Louisa had been on the phone with me when the car hit her. I wasn¡¯t the one behind the wheel, obviously, but I couldn¡¯t exactly im full innocence either.


    Rhys clearly shared the same thought, because he turned and red at me balefully.


    ¡®She was upset when she found out you weren¡¯ting to dinner,¡¯ he snapped. ¡®She insisted on calling you. Went outside to do it. If she hadn¡¯t¡ª¡¯


    ¡®If she hadn¡¯t called me, she wouldn¡¯t have been hit, is that where we¡¯re going?¡¯ I crossed my arms, already feeling the heat rise behind my ears. ¡®Well, guess what? If you¡¯d had the balls to tell her I wasn¡¯t showing up and cancel the dinner, she wouldn¡¯t have needed to call me in the first ce.¡¯


    His jaw clenched. His fists did too.


    For a second, I thought we were about to put the ¡®emergency¡¯ in ¡®emergency room¡¯.


    Experience¡ªfresh and unwanted¡ªhad taught me that Rhys wasn¡¯t always a pacifist when things didn¡¯t go his way.


    I stepped back, on guard.

 Chapter 15 - 16 Hare-brained Idea

    <h4>Chapter 15: Chapter 16 Hare-brained Idea</h4>


    But instead of throwing a punch, Rhys took a deep breath and said, ¡®We need to talk.¡¯


    I rxed fractionally and plonked myself down on a bench in the waiting area. I wasn¡¯t going anywhere till Aunt Louisa came out of surgery. If Rhys wanted to talk, he could crack on. I was fully prepared to ignore every syble.


    He sat next to me and lowered his voice. ¡®I need you to... do something for me.¡¯


    I kept my eyes glued to the neon-red sign above the operating room door that screamed Surgery In Progress.


    Rhys went on. ¡®Look, I¡¯m sorry I lost my temper that day and... hurt you. I apologise.¡¯


    I turned my head slowly, like I was checking if I¡¯d just hallucinated him saying that.


    Rhys Granger, apologising?


    Was he ill?


    Had the aliens finally reced him with a half-decent human clone?


    ¡®I¡¯m sorry about how things turned out,¡¯ he said. ¡®I wish we could work something out. Mum was really upset when she found out we¡¯d had a fight¡ª¡¯


    ¡®We didn¡¯t just have a fight, Rhys. We broke up.¡¯ I cut in before he could romanticise it into a bloody rom misunderstanding.


    He let out a heavy exhale. ¡®Yeah, I know. But Mum doesn¡¯t.¡¯


    I blinked. ¡®You didn¡¯t tell her?¡¯


    ¡®I said we¡¯d had a fight. That we were, like, on a break. She told me to fix it. She thinks I¡¯m the one who messed up and I¡¯m supposed to win you back with flowers or whatever.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t respond. Mostly because I was too busy mentally filing this under You Cannot Make This Shit Up.


    Rhys leaned closer. ¡®Look, I know it¡¯s a massive favour, but... would you still be my fianc¨¦e? Just for now. Just till Mum¡¯s feeling better. I need time to, you know, ease her into the idea of me and Catherine.¡¯


    Ah, there it was. The cherry on top of the bullshittery sundae.


    Rhys wanted me to y pretend fianc¨¦e while he canoodled with Catherine behind the scenes.


    ¡®You¡¯ve got to be kidding me,¡¯ I said, once my brain caught up with the sheer absurdity of it all.


    ¡®I can pay you,¡¯ he added like he was doing me a favour. ¡®Get you a job at mypany, or literally anywhere else in the city. A t, money, jewellery¡ªwhatever you want.¡¯


    ¡®You seriously think I¡¯m going to y house with you just so you can keep lying to your mum?¡¯ I stared at him like he¡¯d grown a second head. A dumber one.


    Less than twenty-four hours ago, I¡¯d literallye up with the exact same n to get my parents off my back.


    But somehow, when he suggested it, it made my skin crawl.


    Maybe that made me a hypocrite.


    Or maybe it just meant I still had some shred of self-respect left, which was more than I could say for him.


    ¡®I know it¡¯s a lot to ask,¡¯ he pressed on, because of course he did. Rhys never took no for an answer, at least not from me. His voice sped up like he was trying to close a deal before his mum came out of surgery.


    Which only made it worse. His mum had just been in a car crash and he was already out here, scheming how to manipte her feelings.


    The man had balls, I¡¯d give him that.


    ¡®But this works out well for you too, doesn¡¯t it?¡¯ he pushed on, absolutelymitted to his little pitch. ¡®Your parents are pressuring you to go date that guy¡ªwhat¡¯s his name? The one you clearly can¡¯t stand. But if we¡¯re still engaged, they¡¯ll back off. You get your peace, I get mine. Win-win.¡¯


    He actually had the gall to smile.


    ¡®I won¡¯t interfere in your life,¡¯ he added. ¡®You can date whoever you want, just keep it quiet. My parents can¡¯t find out. And I swear it won¡¯t take long. A couple of months, tops, then I¡¯ll¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Then you¡¯ll what?¡¯ I snapped, barely keeping my voice low enough not to get escorted out by hospital security. ¡®You¡¯ll finally grow a backbone and tell your parents that your great romance with Catherine¡¯s been bubbling away this whole time and you¡¯ve been feeding them lies like a goddamn vending machine?¡¯


    My voice was shaking. Not from nerves¡ªmore like pure rage.


    I shot up from the bench. ¡®This is not the ce for this. Come with me.¡¯


    ¡®Wait, where are you going?¡¯ Rhys stood too, annoyed. But he followed me anyway as I stormed into the stairwell.


    I checked for witnesses, cameras, and possibly the ghost of a nosy janitor. Once the coast was clear, I shut the door behind us.


    Rhys shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, impatient. ¡®We need to settle this fast. My dad¡¯s on his way, I need to¡ª¡¯


    I turned on him so fast he flinched. The light in the stairwell was grim and flickery, like it belonged in a crime documentary re-enactment, but it didn¡¯t do much to dent Rhys¡¯s model-groomed hair or perfectly symmetrical face. His custom suit clung to his body like it had been stitched on by a thirsty tailor.


    He looked like the total package. Handsome. Rich. Confident.


    Shame the warranty had expired on his decency.


    I raised my hand, then paused. A p would¡¯ve felt amazing but would¡¯ve left a mark, and Clive Granger was due to show up any second. No way was I letting this turn into an episode of Law & Order: Pretentious Pricks Unit.


    So I switched tactics.


    I leaned in slowly, looping my arms around Rhys¡¯s neck like I was about to kiss him.


    He blinked, confused, but still smug enough to think he was winning.


    ¡®What are you¡ª?¡¯


    That¡¯s all he managed before I drove my knee straight into his gut.


    His breath left him like air from a punctured bouncy castle. Eyes wide, mouth gaping, Rhys folded like a bad poker hand.


    I let go and stepped back.


    ¡®Since you seem to struggle with the word ¡°no¡±, that was my answer to your hare-brained little proposal,¡¯ I said, while he continued to wheeze. ¡®I¡¯m not going to help you lie to Louisa. You want to confess your undying love for Catherine? Great. Find another way to do it. But leave me the hell out of it.¡¯


    Still doubled over, he made a pathetic grab for my arm, but I was already out of reach.


    ¡®You... bitch! You¡¯ll regret this!¡¯

 Chapter 16 - 17 Ashton’s POV: Cut the Pretence

    <h4>Chapter 16: Chapter 17 Ashton¡¯s POV: Cut the Pretence</h4>


    Ashton was scanning the hallway when the stairwell door flew open and Mirabelle barrelled out.


    She looked furious. Gorgeous, obviously¡ªbut furious.


    And then, like a nasty aftertaste, Rhys Granger followed her out.


    Ashton¡¯s jaw tightened. He¡¯d never met the guy in person, but he recognised him from the photos and the extensive background check.


    Rhys, the ex-fianc¨¦. A trust fund guy with anger management issues, and apparently, the emotional maturity of a wet sock.


    The moment Ashton saw the expression on Rhys¡¯s face, he knew what was about to happen. The guy had that look¡ªthe same look idiots get right before they do something incredibly stupid.


    Ashton moved fast. Long strides, no hesitation.


    Mirabelle clocked himing, surprise flickering in her eyes, but there wasn¡¯t time to say anything.


    Rhys was already raising his arm, going for a cheap shot from behind like the absolute coward he was.


    Ashton didn¡¯t think. He just moved.


    His left arm wrapped around Mirabelle¡¯s waist, yanking her out of range, while his right leg shot out and mmed into Rhys¡¯s knee with the kind of precision that made footballers cry.


    Rhys folded like a broken deckchair and mmed into the stairwell wall with a satisfying thud.


    When she understood what just happened, Mirabelle didn¡¯t flinch. She just stared at Rhys with disdain.


    ¡®Really? That¡¯s your move?¡¯ She shook her head. ¡®Trying to punch me when my back¡¯s turned? Christ, Rhys, I knew you were a spineless little worm, but this is pathetic, even for you.¡¯


    Ashton looked down at her, checking her face. ¡®You all right?¡¯


    She nodded. ¡®I¡¯m fine. Thanks.¡¯


    ¡®Let¡¯s get out of here.¡¯


    Mirabelle hesitated. ¡®Louisa¡¯s still in surgery.¡¯


    Ashton gave Rhys a pointed nce. ¡®Yeah, but you don¡¯t need to spend the next few hours in a corridor with him. My assistant¡¯s on standby. He¡¯ll call the second there¡¯s any update. The surgery could take all night. You being here doesn¡¯t make the clock tick faster.¡¯


    She thought it over, then nodded. ¡®Fair enough.¡¯


    Ashton walked her to the car, opened the door, and waited until she was tucked inside before sliding into the driver¡¯s seat and starting the engine.


    But even as they pulled away, his eyes kept darting to the rear-view mirror like she might vanish if he blinked.


    She looked pensive. What was she thinking about? Louisa? Rhys? Him?


    Ashton didn¡¯t believe in fate¡ªhe trusted nning, power, and contracts¡ªbut he still thanked whatever cosmic nonsense had convinced him to return to Skyline City earlier than nned.


    If he hadn¡¯t, he wouldn¡¯t have seen her break up with Rhys, wouldn¡¯t have been the man she dragged away from a bar for a one-night stand, and definitely wouldn¡¯t have ended up ying the role of her fake fianc¨¦.


    She didn¡¯t know it yet, but Ashton had no intention of staying fake for long.


    That morning in the hotel, when he asked if she remembered him, her nk stare hadn¡¯t surprised him.


    Disappointed him, yes.


    But surprised? Not really.


    Seven years was a long time, and she¡¯d only been a teenager back then¡ªbaby-faced, all nerves and big dreams, standing on a stage at some inter-school tech expo, pitching her clunky smart jewellery prototype like she was about to revolutionise the entire industry.


    She¡¯d looked terrified, but there was a kind of fire in her, the sort that made people stop and pay attention, even in a room full of bored judges and cynical investors.


    Ashton hadn¡¯t been one of them, not officially. Just doing a favour for a friend, reviewing submissions for a grant.


    But then she tripped on her way out, and he caught her before she hit the ground.


    She¡¯d looked up, breathless and wide-eyed, thanked him like he¡¯d saved her life, and disappeared before he could say a single word.


    She never knew his name. Probably didn¡¯t even register his face.


    But he remembered everything.


    Now here she was again, older, tougher, still standing tall after being dragged through hell by a man who didn¡¯t deserve her and a family that never protected her.


    Ashton wasn¡¯t letting her walk away. Not this time.


    The fake engagement was just the opening move.


    When he¡¯d told her his family was pressuring him to get married, he hadn¡¯t lied.


    The vultures had been circling since hended back in Skyline¡ªcousins with matchmakers, uncles with ultimatums, his stepmother with her trademark emotional ckmail.


    What he left out was the part where he could¡¯ve shut it all down with one look. His family didn¡¯t push him; they tiptoed around him. They feared him, and that suited him just fine.


    But he let her believe the pressure was real. Gave her the whole ¡®expectations¡¯ speech because he knew it would make her soften, make her say yes.


    But he knew this wasn¡¯t about convenience or family pressure.


    It was about her.


    The only woman who¡¯d ever made his heart stutter.


    The only one he¡¯d ever wanted for more than a night.


    The only one he wanted for every night, for the rest of his life.


    Now she was in his passenger seat, legs crossed, face turned to the window, breathing like she hadn¡¯tpletely undone him just days ago in that hotel room.


    He should¡¯ve been watching the road, but his eyes kept sliding to her¡ªher profile in the low light, the way her fingers twitched against her thigh, the soft scent of her shampoo threading through the air.


    She smelled like sugar and fire. Like trouble he¡¯d dly ruin himself for.


    She¡¯d been tipsy that night. He hadn¡¯t. He remembered it all.


    He remembered the exact sound she made when he kissed the inside of her thigh. The way her hands gripped his hair. The way she arched her back as she came.


    When they shook hands on the fake engagement deal, she didn¡¯t know he already had the ending written.


    A real ring. A real marriage. Her signature next to his on everything from a marriage licence to a cemetery plot.


    And maybe she still thought this was a favour. A temporary fix.


    But Ashton knew better.


    She was already his.


    And if she didn¡¯t know it yet, he¡¯d make damn sure she did¡ªsoon.


    He stole another nce at her.


    He could feel the heat rise just thinking about that night. The sound of her voice, her skin against his.


    But another thought made his jaw clench: if he hadn¡¯t shown up at that bar, would she have gone home with someone else? Someone with a pretty face like that smug bastard Rhys?


    Ashton¡¯s grip on the steering wheel tightened. He would burn down the city before he let anyone like that near her again.


    It was time to move faster. Cut the pretence. Turn this engagement into something permanent.


    And if he had to lie, manipte, or y every dirty card he had to keep her?


    So be it.

 Chapter 17 - 18 One Step Further

    <h4>Chapter 17: Chapter 18 One Step Further</h4>


    ¡®You alright?¡¯


    His voice snapped me out of my mental spiral.


    ¡®What?¡¯ I blinked at him, brain still buffering.


    Ashton gave me a quick side nce. ¡®Earlier. At the hospital. Did he... hurt you?¡¯


    ¡®You mean Rhys?¡¯ I said. ¡®No.¡¯


    Technically true.


    Not forck of trying, though.


    Rhys practically lived at the gym, probably had protein shakes for blood. If he¡¯dnded a hit, I¡¯d be scraping bits of myself off the floor with a dustpan.


    I added, softer this time, ¡®Thank you.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t say ¡®you¡¯re wee.¡¯


    Instead, his grip on the steering wheel went full Incredible Hulk¡ªveins popping like they were auditioning for a fitness ad.


    I stared.


    Was he angry? At me? At Rhys?


    ¡®That was your ex-fianc¨¦?¡¯ he finally asked, voice low.


    ¡®Yeah.¡¯


    He looked like he had about seven things he wanted to say and none of them were polite enough for public consumption. In the end, he just nodded and stared straight ahead.


    The rest of the drive was silent. Not awkward-silent, just... broody.


    We got to the apartment and rode the lift up in silence. At my door, I turned to him and said, ¡®Thanks. Good night.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t reply. Just stood there, face unreadable in the dim hallway light.


    I dug out my keys and was halfway through the door when¡ª


    ¡®Wait.¡¯


    I turned, giving him the eyebrow.


    He held up his phone. ¡®Here¡¯s my number,¡¯ he said, airdropping it to me. ¡®Once Louisa Granger¡¯s out of surgery, I¡¯ll let you know.¡¯


    ¡®Thanks,¡¯ I said, and meant it. He didn¡¯t owe me¡ªor Louisa¡ªanything. But he¡¯d gone out of his way anyway.


    His gaze drifted over my shoulder into the living room and his brows went up.


    ¡®You seriously nning to spend the night in that?¡¯


    I nced behind me. Boxes were stacked like a game of adult Jenga, most of my stuff taped up and ready to go, the bed stripped bare, the wardrobe gutted.


    Right, I kind of forgot I was moving out tomorrow and had packed all my stuff.


    ¡®It¡¯s just one night. I¡¯ll make do,¡¯ I said with the confidence of someone who fully intended to sleep on a rolled-up hoodie.


    ¡®Why don¡¯t youe over to mine?¡¯


    I turned back to him slowly, trying to work out if I¡¯d just hallucinated that sentence.


    His tone was neutral. His facepletely expressionless. Like he¡¯d just offered to lend me a socket wrench instead of, y¡¯know, his bed.


    Was this an innocent offer? Or was he dropping hints about a sequel to Hotel Night: The Pantsless Saga?


    My brain was so fried it couldn¡¯t spell ¡®context¡¯, let alone process it.


    ¡®Um... thanks, but I don¡¯t think¡ª¡¯


    ¡®That guy Rhys knows where you live, doesn¡¯t he?¡¯ Ashton steamrolled right over my polite rejection. ¡®If he¡¯s ming you for his mum¡¯s crash, how long do you think it¡¯ll take before he turns up here to settle the score?¡¯


    I opened my mouth, but all that came out was a very unhelpful, ¡®Um...¡¯


    The man had a point. Rhys had an ego the size of a small country, and nothing bruised it worse than losing, especially to a woman.


    And not just any woman. Me. The one who used to trail after him like a lovesick Labrador.


    ¡®And your family¡¯s still tight with the Grangers, right? If they hear about Louisa¡¯s ident, there¡¯s a good chance they¡¯ll either call or show up in person. Do you really want that circus on your doorstep tonight?¡¯


    I let out a sigh. ¡®Fair point. Thanks. If it¡¯s not a huge inconvenience, I might crash in your living room for the night. I¡¯ll take the couch, promise.¡¯


    I knew his ce had the sameyout as mine, and there was no guest room.


    He might¡¯ve smiled, though it was hard to tell in the light. ¡®Good. We¡¯ve got a few things we need to talk about anyway.¡¯


    I followed him into his t.


    ¡®Drink?¡¯ he asked, heading over to the sleek little minibar wedged between the living room and the kitchen.


    ¡®Sure.¡¯ I took the ss he handed me¡ªsome fancy Japanese whisky with an unpronounceable name¡ªand took a sip. It went down smooth, like silk soaked in fire, and I felt the tension in my shoulders start to give up and move out.


    I stifled a yawn. It wasn¡¯t even ten yet, but the day had been a long one.


    ¡®About the party the day after tomorrow,¡¯ he said, voice casual, but I could tell from the way he leaned on the bar that this wasn¡¯t just small talk.


    ¡®Yeah?¡¯ I blinked away the sleep threatening to hijack my brain and looked at him.


    He was watching me again with that same unreadable expression¡ªnot creepy, not flirty, just... observant. Like a cat that couldn¡¯t decide if you were a threat or a chew toy.


    ¡®Considering what went down today, I think it¡¯s time to revise the terms of our arrangement.¡¯


    Arrangement. Right. The fake engagement.


    I waited for the rest.


    ¡®I¡¯m guessing from his charming performance tonight that Rhys Granger isn¡¯t quite ready to let you go.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah, you could say that.¡¯ I gave a wry littleugh.


    Normally, I wasn¡¯t one to unpack personal baggage with strangers.


    But Ashton didn¡¯t feel like a person you had to tiptoe around.


    Maybe it was because we made a deal. Maybe it was the way he talked about everything in a matter-of-fact way like he was discussing stock prices instead of my messy love life.


    So I told him about Rhys¡¯s absurd request to keep pretending we were still engaged just so he could ease his new rtionship with Catherine into his parents¡¯ approval.


    ¡®You turned him down,¡¯ Ashton said, not as a question, but as a statement.


    ¡®Yeah. Took me years to wrap my head around the fact that he¡¯spletely besotted with Catherine. I spent far too long ying the role of emotionally avable ceholder. I¡¯m not signing up for that encore performance.¡¯


    ¡®Rhys Granger doesn¡¯t strike me as someone who takes no for an answer.¡¯


    I gave a shrug. That one he nailed.


    ¡®And then there¡¯s your family,¡¯ he added. ¡®From what I¡¯ve gathered, your mum won¡¯t give up until she¡¯s set you up with someone she approves of, regardless of how you feel.¡¯


    ¡®Exactly. Which is why I needed you toe to a family dinner next week. As my fianc¨¦.¡¯


    ¡®But do you think that¡¯ll be enough?¡¯


    I tilted my head. ¡®What¡¯re you getting at?¡¯


    ¡®Engagements can be broken off,¡¯ he said, setting his ss down. Then he walked over and stopped right in front of me.


    Since I was still sitting on the sofa, he basically eclipsed the ceiling light like a very expensive sr event. I had to crane my neck to look up at him.


    ¡®Pretending to be engaged isn¡¯t going to magically make your parents or Rhys disappear.¡¯


    ¡®So what, you want me to fake a pregnancy too?¡¯ I asked, only half joking.


    ¡®No,¡¯ he said, dead serious. ¡®I¡¯m suggesting we take it a step further.¡¯


    ¡®You mean actually get engaged?¡¯


    ¡®No. I mean get married.¡¯

 Chapter 18 - 19 Almost Said Yes

    <h4>Chapter 18: Chapter 19 Almost Said Yes</h4>


    I stood in the shower like a soggy pretzel, hoping the scalding water would burn the confusion out of my skull.


    Spoiler alert: it didn¡¯t.


    Ashton¡¯s words kept looping: ¡®Let¡¯s get married for real.¡¯


    Excuse me? Was I concussed? Had I slipped and hit my head and developed some sexy-rich-boy-themed delusions?


    Becausest I checked, we were in a mutually agreed fake engagement. No strings, no vows, no wedding hashtags.


    And yet, there he was, five minutes ago, standing in front of me with that infuriatinglyposed face and that annoyingly persuasive baritone, dropping a ¡®let¡¯s get hitched¡¯ like he was suggesting brunch.


    I mean, what even was that?


    He¡¯d leaned in, talked in that velvet-coated, emotionless CEO tone like he was negotiating a merger, but the only thing merging in my brain was every single R-rated thought I¡¯d ever had about him.


    I hadn¡¯t registered a single word, too busy inhaling his scent, staring at his lips, and letting my dumb, horny body teeter on the edge of blurting out yes.


    Thank God for the ringing phone that cut through the haze before I threw myself at him.


    I cranked the water hotter, whacked my forehead gently against the tile, and groaned.


    What was wrong with me? The second Ashton appeared, my logic dipped out like a side character in a horror film, leaving my poor brain cells to fend for themselves against the tsunami of testosterone and abs.


    I wondered if he saw through my act, if he knew that while he was talking strategic alliances, all I could think about was how his Adam¡¯s apple might taste.


    If he ever realised I was so into him that I wasn¡¯t even listening to his perfectly sensible, legally airtight proposal and was just picturing him naked... I¡¯d actually die. Of humiliation. Possibly on the spot.


    ¡®Damn it,¡¯ I muttered, smacking the tap like it owed me money.


    I tried to rationalise it: maybe it was just the post-Rhys drought. After all, it¡¯d been a while. My libido had gone into hibernation and Ashton had apparently jump-started it back to life.


    Besides, it wasn¡¯t all my fault. Even Agent Peggy Carter nearly face-nted into Steve Rogers¡¯ pecs after the serum transformation, and she was literally a government-trained professional.


    If she couldn¡¯t resist a good set of chesticles, what hope did I have?


    I was just a regr woman with a pulse. And a highly reactive, dangerously thirsty hormone system.


    By the time I stepped out of my extra-long shower, my fingers were prunier than a sad raisin in the sun.


    I stood in front of my wardrobe. Do I wear my usual sleepwear, which consisted of a threadbare uni tee with a coffee stain shaped suspiciously like Australia and a pair of shorts so tiny they¡¯d get gged on Instagram?


    Or do I pretend to have dignity and put on something that didn¡¯t scream ¡®I¡¯m trying to seduce you¡¯?


    In the end, I reached for a long, ankle-grazing dressing gown I¡¯d bought during a misguided boho phase and never worn again. It was shapeless, scratchy, and about as ttering as a camping tarp.


    I tiptoed out of my t and paused at Ashton¡¯s door.


    He hadn¡¯t pressured me for an answer when he suggested we get married. Said I should take my time and think about it.


    But honestly, I was terrified that if I saw those hypnotic eyes of his again, I¡¯d throw all rational thought out the window and say ¡®yes¡¯.


    Worse, I was worried I¡¯d be desperate enough to suggest we celebrate our new rtionship status with a cheeky roll in the sheets.


    Not that that was something I¡¯d usually do.


    Then again, I wasn¡¯t really a one-night-stand kind of girl either. Or a fake fianc¨¦e kind of girl.


    Apparently, I was going through a phase called ¡®actingpletely out of character and confusing the hell out of myself¡¯.


    When I finally pushed open the door to his ce and saw the empty living room, I wasn¡¯t sure if I was relieved or gutted.


    Possibly both.


    He¡¯d left a note on the coffee table. Said he had to fly to another city for urgent business but he¡¯d be back in time for the party. Also said I could treat the ce like mine.


    Dangerous words. Because five secondster, I was standing in his bedroom weighing the moral implications of crashing on his sofa versus full-on starfishing in his bed.


    The bed won.


    It smelled like him, and I slept like a baby.


    Next morning, I woke up to find that my mum had called me roughly two dozen times and left a string of messages long enough to qualify as a podcast. Each one more shouty than thest, ming me for Louisa¡¯s ident.


    Rhys might have called too, but I wouldn¡¯t know¡ªI¡¯d cklisted him as soon as I¡¯d left the hospital.


    There was also a message from Ashton. Louisa was out of surgery but still in ICU, loopy on anaesthetic and not up for visitors.


    I texted back a quick thank-you and inhaled a breakfast consisting of cold toast and half a banana.


    Then it was time for work.


    I¡¯d barely stepped foot into the studio when I got summoned to the boss¡¯s office.


    Nyx Collective was a high-end jewellery design house co-founded by two bosses, but one of them was basically a ghost. As in, no one had seen him. Not once. He could¡¯ve been an AI for all I knew.


    Word on the street was that this mystery founder had bankrolled 80% of the start-up costs, which made him the real power behind the velvet curtain.


    Anyway, the person currently sitting across from me wasn¡¯t that elusive financier, but the other boss. The one who did the actual work.


    Savannah Lane was pushing forty but looked like she¡¯d just been cast as the sexy barista in a ro. Glowy skin, hair like a shampoo ad, and a wardrobe that screamed ¡®rich but rtable¡¯.


    ¡®Vanna, I¡¯m really sorry,¡¯ I said as soon as I walked in, before she could unleash the guilt-tripping Kraken. ¡®I know this week was a nightmare for the studio and I just... disappeared. I was sick, then there was other stuff, and time sort of did that thing where it flings itself into a volcano.¡¯


    ¡®Rx.¡¯ Savannah smiled at me. ¡®I didn¡¯t drag you in here to scold you. I¡¯m giving you a bonus.¡¯

 Chapter 19 - 20 Office Nemesis

    <h4>Chapter 19: Chapter 20 Office Nemesis</h4>


    ¡®A what now?¡¯ My brain did a double take and tripped over its own feet.


    Savannah¡¯s grin widened. ¡®That ne you designed? The one Eliza ck wore on the red carpetst week? It blew up. Press coverage, socials, even one of those trashy gossip TikToks. Nyx Collective finally went viral, and it¡¯s thanks to you.¡¯


    Huh. I rxed. So I wasn¡¯t getting fired today.


    ¡®So here¡¯s the deal,¡¯ she added breezily. ¡®Ten grand. It¡¯ll be in your ount by the end of the day.¡¯


    I nearly hugged her. Nearly. But I settled for a deeply heartfelt thank-you and a facial expression that screamed ¡®I suddenly believe in capitalism again.¡¯


    Back at my desk¡ªyes, frencers got cubicles too at Nyx Collective, mostly for the aesthetic¡ªI dropped into my chair and tried to act casual. Which was difficult, because my inner monologue was doing the cha-cha to the sound of iing funds.


    Clearly, word had already spread, because no sooner had I logged in than someone from the next desk leaned over and whispered, ¡®I¡¯m so jealous. Ten thousand in one go? I¡¯d sell a kidney for that kind of payday.¡¯


    ¡®I mean, the studio¡¯s basically mainstream now,¡¯ another designer piped up. ¡®We¡¯ve all got a shot at a viral moment.¡¯


    I gave them a modest little smile, the kind you practise in the mirror when you¡¯re trying not to look smug but still want people to know you¡¯re sessful.


    We were having a perfectly nice moment¡ªbit of a gossip sesh, bit of humblebragging about my bonus¡ªwhen a voice behind me sliced through the air like a rusty nail file.


    ¡®She just got lucky, that¡¯s all. Eliza ck could¡¯ve picked anything. Total fluke.¡¯


    I looked up and to the left, already bracing myself. And there she was. Violet Lin. Designer, full-time drama queen, and my not-so-secret workce nemesis. If I was the shiny new MacBook Air, she was the Dellptop that kept overheating but swore she was ¡®just as good, actually.¡¯


    Violet had been trying to outdo me since the day I walked into Nyx Collective with a sketchbook. She¡¯d decided I was the obstacle between her and the sparkly throne of Top Designer, and she¡¯d been waging a war ever since.


    The second she opened her mouth, the whole room fell quieter than a group chat after someone types ¡®I need to vent¡¯. Everyone knew Violet and I didn¡¯t mix.


    She strutted past me, all cking stilettos and cloying perfume.


    ¡®Honestly, did any of you see the trending threads? People online are saying Nyx Collective stuff looks cheap now. One ne, and the brand goes from boutique elegance to bargain bin Barbie.¡¯


    She tossed her hair like a shampoo model.


    Right on cue, one of her usual background extras piped up with a helpful echo: ¡®Totally. They¡¯re roasting Eliza, but really they¡¯re dragging the ne.¡¯


    Ah, the ssic tag-team shade. Subtle as a sledgehammer.


    I tossed my pen down and turned, meeting her eyes dead-on.


    ¡®Most of the reviews are singing her praises, darling. People are calling Eliza¡¯s ne a masterpiece. So where exactly is this imaginary ¡°roast¡± you¡¯re talking about? Or wait, don¡¯t tell me. You¡¯re either snacking on troll crumbs for breakfast or you genuinely think cubic zirconia is the pinnacle of design. Which is it? Be honest, we won¡¯t judge¡ªout loud.¡¯


    The silence was instant. Delicious.


    I nced in the direction of Savannah¡¯s office. ¡®Maybe I should ask Vanna if we¡¯ve got overstaffing issues. Sounds like someone¡¯s got way too much free time and WiFi.¡¯


    Everyone suddenly discovered theirptops were fascinating and started typing like their lives depended on it. After all, I¡¯d justnded a fat bonus and was firmly in Savannah¡¯s good books. No one with half a brain wanted beef with the boss¡¯s current golden girl.


    But Violet Lin wasn¡¯t wired like the rest of us.


    ¡®Some people really think they¡¯re something just because they got ten grand. I mean, only people who are seriously broke would act like it¡¯s a big deal.¡¯


    I let out augh. ¡®Sure, some people might turn their noses up at ten grand... but then again, their designs aren¡¯t even worth ten bucks. It¡¯s kind of tragic when you think about it, spending your whole life sketching crap no celebrity would be caught dead in. And if my ne ¡°lowered the brand¡¯s image¡±, then someone¡¯s didn¡¯t even make it onto the radar.¡¯


    Someone behind me snorted hard enough to nearly choke on her iced matcha.


    Violet turned the same shade as her lipstick and mmed her coffee cup down. ¡®Excuse me? Are you saying my designs have no ss? Just because your little ne ended up on Eliza ck¡¯s neck? Please. Like I even rate her.¡¯


    I shrugged. ¡®I didn¡¯t mention any names. Funny how you brought yourself up, though. Bit of a self-drag, no?¡¯


    That shut her up real fast.


    The office blessedly dipped into sweet, glorious silence. For a total of... what? Ny seconds, maybe.


    Then she was at it again, pping her gums with the girl next to her like we were on a break in Year 9 homeroom.


    ¡®Did you hear?¡¯ she said, loud enough to rattle the windows. ¡®The Laurent family¡¯s throwing a g. Word is, the heir himself is making a public appearance. Only the most influential people in Skyline are invited. And guess who just got an invitation?¡¯


    The moment she dropped the L-word, everyone perked up like meerkats at feeding time. I swear, one of the interns nearly dislocated a neck trying to lean closer.


    Because yeah, the Laurent family basically runs the city. Skyline¡¯s economic puppeteers. And their heir had never been seen in public. Zero photos. Just rumours and a PR team tighter than a nun¡¯s wardrobe.


    Apparently, getting an invite to this g was harder than getting Taylor Swift tickets during presale. People were shelling out stupid money or calling in favours like it was their final wish on a deathbed.


    Violet tilted her chin up, beaming as people gathered around her like she was royalty.


    ¡®Some people,¡¯ she drawled, flicking a look in my direction, ¡®could design the Mona Lisa out of rhinestones and still die broke. They¡¯ll never get a Laurent invite. It¡¯s tragic, really.¡¯


    She even threw in a couple of pity clucks, like a gossiping aunt at a family reunion. Subtlety was not her strong suit.


    I didn¡¯t even blink. Kept right on sketching.


    Then my phone dinged.


    Yvaine had sent a photo of a dress and a message:


    [Picked out the shiniest, sexiest dress ever. You¡¯re gonna y that party. Make Rhys Granger eat his heart out. MWAH!!!]

 Chapter 20 - 21 Clean Slate

    <h4>Chapter 20: Chapter 21 Clean te</h4>


    After work, I crashed Yvaine¡¯s shoot. She was wrapping up a final round of photos for some artsy indie boutique no one¡¯s heard of but everyone pretends to love.


    When she finally changed out of a chainmail minidress and stilettos, we hit one of her regr haunts¡ªthis little boutique in West 7th called Spitfire. She¡¯d sweet-talked the owner into holding a dress she imed had my name stitched into the soul.


    One look at the dress and I stopped breathing. Crimson satin. Plunging neckline. A thigh-high slit that could probably cause traffic idents.


    I gawked. ¡®You¡¯re kidding. I can¡¯t wear that.¡¯


    ¡®Why not?¡¯


    ¡®Just... not my usual style.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s the point, honey. You¡¯ve got one shot to stun a crowd and make a man spiral,¡¯ Yvaine said, hands on her hips. ¡®This is it. You¡¯re not showing up as yourself tomorrow. You¡¯re showing up as the woman every other woman wants to be, and every man regrets losing.¡¯


    ¡®Bit dramatic,¡¯ I muttered.


    ¡®Bit iconic,¡¯ she snapped. ¡®Now shut up and try it on.¡¯


    Even the sales girl chimed in: ¡®If I had your waist and that ex, I¡¯d show up dressed like vengeance too.¡¯


    I bought the damn dress.


    Back at my new t¡ªtiny, sunlit, and finally mine¡ªI hung up the dress in the closet and flopped onto the sofa. The moving crew had dumped everything earlier. Rhys didn¡¯t know this address. My parents didn¡¯t either. Clean te.


    On the way home, I¡¯d dropped by the hospital. Louisa was out of surgery, recovering, still closed off to visitors. I didn¡¯t push. I didn¡¯t want her guilt-tripping me into forgiving her son and left before Rhys showed up.


    Now I stood in front of my mirror, holding up earrings against my neck. I had no clue if Ashton¡¯s family preferred pearls or diamonds, saints or sinners. Tomorrow¡¯s party wasn¡¯t just about dress codes and canap¨¦ trays. It was his grand announcement: Meet my fake fianc¨¦e. All I had to do was to nod and smile and y nice.


    I should¡¯ve asked him what they were like. Cold? Conservative? Open to women who¡¯ve made at least two of their leering male colleagues cry in public?


    Ashton hadn¡¯t told me. He was off somewhere ¡®on business¡¯, which, let¡¯s be honest, could mean anything from mergers to murder. I didn¡¯t even know the name of hispany.


    The stove clicked off behind me, and I was just about to sit down when the doorbell rang.


    Every cell in my body jolted. No one knew I¡¯d moved except Yvaine. I crept to the peephole.


    A secondter, I opened the door.


    Ashton stood there. Hoodie. Joggers. Sharp-eyed and aggravatingly handsome.


    ¡®Just got back from the trip. Thought I¡¯d drop by.¡¯


    My brain glitched. For a second, I thought I¡¯d hallucinated myself back into my old apartment, the one where he lived across the hall and could pop by any moment. But nope. I turned and stared at the stack of unopened moving boxes behind me. This was my new ce. My clean te.


    ¡®How the hell did you find me?¡¯


    He didn¡¯t blink. ¡®Made a few calls.¡¯


    Of course he did. Same man who¡¯d tracked Louisa¡¯s hospital room faster than I could Google ¡®where¡¯s the nearest ER centre¡¯. I hated how fast he moved, how smug he looked while doing it. I hated that I was also... impressed.


    I should¡¯ve felt vited, probably. Most people take weeks to get a couch delivered¡ªhe tracks my new address in less time than it takes to boil pasta.


    But he didn¡¯t radiate creep energy. Just power. Cold, inconvenient, casually terrifying power.


    ¡®Did youe straight from the airport? You look¡ª¡¯ I trailed off, clocking theck of suitcase. His joggers were tailored, his T-shirt suspiciously wrinkle-free. Not travel clothes. Not jetgged.


    ¡®No.¡¯ He gave me that infuriatingly calm stare. ¡®I bought the t across the hall.¡¯


    I swallowed hard. So that was the n. We were neighbours again. Perfect.


    Then he added, deadpan: ¡®If we¡¯re going to be engaged¡ªand maybe, soon, married¡ªI thought proximity would help.¡¯


    My jaw twitched. So he¡¯d gone from fake fianc¨¦ to fake husband in under ten seconds.


    I didn¡¯t say anything. Couldn¡¯t. My brain was buffering, trying to download a reaction from the chaos cloud in my chest. I wasn¡¯t ready tomit to another lie when I was still unpacking from thest one.


    He didn¡¯t push. Just shrugged. ¡®It¡¯ll be easier if we¡¯re seening and going together. My family likes to pry.¡¯


    Of course they do.


    I nodded. Mostly because saying ¡®what the actual hell¡¯ felt rude.


    The silence stretched. Not awkward yet, but approaching it.


    ¡®You eaten?¡¯ I blurted.


    He arched an eyebrow, like he wasn¡¯t sure if that was an offer or a trap.


    ¡®Come in,¡¯ I said, already regretting it.


    Inside, the ce still smelled like fresh paint and furniture polish. I reheated my sad little dinner¡ªleftover pasta, garlic bread that had gone soggy in the fridge, and a sd that barely passed for edible.


    He didn¡¯t flinch. Just sat at my cramped table like it was the Ritz and epted the meal like it was a tasting menu. Didn¡¯t evenment on the stainless-steel cutlery, which honestly felt like handing royalty a spork.


    He ate like he¡¯d done finishing school with Bond viins. Knife in his right hand, posture too perfect for someone in loungewear.


    I tried to fill the silence. ¡®So... what exactly do you do, Ashton?¡¯


    He cut a piece of garlic bread with surgical precision. ¡®Business.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s specific.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s what it is.¡¯


    He wasn¡¯t chatty. But he wasn¡¯t a wall either. Every time I asked him something, Ashton answered¡ªshort, to the point, polite. But he never asked anything back. No follow-ups, no boration. Just clean, efficient replies like a human email.


    I tossed a nce at the TV, trying to fish formon ground.


    ¡®You ever watch The Spite Club?¡¯ I nodded at the screen, where two reality stars were waterboarding each other with kombucha.


    His expression didn¡¯t even twitch.


    Fair enough. That show was garbage.


    But then the financial news rolled on¡ªstocks, suits, the usualte-capitalist meltdown¡ªand that got a flicker out of him. Not much, just a look. But itnded.


    Finance guy, then. Banker or shark. Probably both.


    Midway through dinner, my phone buzzed. Unknown number. I ignored it. Probably another telemarketer.


    Then a text popped up:


    [You should really reconsider pretending to be my fianc¨¦e. Just until my mum gets better. Agree to y along, and I¡¯ll forgive you for the assault at the hospital.]


    I snorted. Only one man could turn maniption into charity and still sound smug doing it.


    I blocked Rhys¡¯s new number and deleted the text.


    I must¡¯ve made a face because Ashton looked up and asked, ¡®Rhys Granger?¡¯


    I nodded and shrugged. ¡®Still trying to cast me in his personal soap opera.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t say a word. I figured that was the end of it.


    Then he stood up, disappeared down the hallway, and came back with two suit bags. Designerbels. Obnoxiously expensive. Clearly male clothes.


    ¡®What¡¯s this?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®Stage dressing,¡¯ he said. ¡®If you¡¯re not ready to escte the fake engagement into a fake marriage, we¡¯ll need something else to make it believable. Like living together.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s overkill.¡¯


    ¡®If I could find your new address, so can he.¡¯ His voice was t. ¡®Couple grand to a PI. Or two phone calls, tops.¡¯


    He had a point.


    ¡®If Rhys shows up, I¡¯ll handle him,¡¯ I said.


    ¡®No doubt. But a few suits in the closet might make him hesitate. Make him believe the lie before he tries to rewrite it.¡¯


    I raised an eyebrow. ¡®Or I could just show up to his ce, shove my tongue down your throat, and finally make him believe I¡¯m with someone else now.¡¯


    Silence.


    I winced. ¡®Sorry. That was¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Not a bad idea,¡¯ he said, voice unreadable. ¡®If he shows up and you need to sell the act, call me.¡¯


    I barked out a nervousugh and scooped up the suits. ¡®Let¡¯s call that n B, shall we? I¡¯ll, um... I¡¯ll hang these up.¡¯

 Chapter 21 - 22 Party

    <h4>Chapter 21: Chapter 22 Party</h4>


    The Laurent family estate sat alone at the top of a private hill, like it thought it was too good to share real estate with the rest of us. The only way up was a winding mountain road that made my stomach do backflips.


    Lately, all anyone in Skyline could talk about was the elusive Laurent heir like he was the seconding of Gatsby with better hair. I¡¯d heard his name so many times it started to feel like subliminal messaging. At this point, I had to see what all the fuss was about.


    Traffic on the way up was a nightmare¡ªSkyline¡¯s elite crawling up the mountain like glittery ants in ck-tinted SUVs. We weren¡¯t even at the top when Yvaine told the driver to pull over.


    She got out first. I followed, tugging my dress down an inch¡ªnot that it helped.


    Technically, I should¡¯ve arrived with Ashton to sell the whole engagement thing. But he¡¯d texted to say he¡¯d be runningte.


    Yvaine hooked her arm through mine as we headed up the rest of the way on foot.


    The dress she¡¯d picked for me was... bold. A silver slip covered in enough rhinestone fringe to double as a disco ball. Definitely not my usual vibe, but tonight wasn¡¯t about subtlety. The thing clung to me like a second skin, sparkling even in the patchy mountain moonlight.


    And the slit? Let¡¯s just say one wrong move and I¡¯d be charged with public indecency. I¡¯d paired it with a pair of silver stilettos that made my calves look deadly and my ankles like they could cut ss.


    With my hair pinned up and a pearl clip at the back, I almost passed for ssy. Almost.


    By the time we reached the Laurent gates, I was trying not to stare but¡ªbloody hell. Even the door was smug. Giant wrought iron monstrosity with gold ents and enough marble to pave a Greek tragedy.


    Now, the Carlisles weren¡¯t exactly paupers. Yvaine¡¯s family practically ran Skyline¡¯s social scene, and her brother had been expanding the family empire like Monopoly was a blood sport. Still, even she raised an eyebrow at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.


    ¡®Is that... a fountain inside the gate?¡¯ she whistled.


    I nodded. ¡®With mingos. Real ones.¡¯


    We¡¯d barely stepped into the ballroom when the crowd turned.


    Heads swivelled. Mouths parted. Champagne flutes paused mid-air.


    Yvaine made quite the entrance. She was in a strapless red number that hugged her like it had stock in her waistline, and I figured I didn¡¯t look too shabby, either.


    I scanned the room for Ashton. No sign of him. Just a sea of manicured women and Botoxed men pretending they weren¡¯t checking each other¡¯s worth. I wondered which ones were Ashton¡¯s family.


    He¡¯d apparently decided this circus of a party was the perfect setting for me to meet his parents for the first time. Public enough that they wouldn¡¯t throw drinks or start interrogating me in full CIA mode. Crowded enough that any ¡®nice to meet you¡¯ would be short, polite, and over before I had a chance to trip over someone¡¯s surname.


    While Yvaine and I were busy scanning the crowd, the crowd was busy scanning us.


    Women looked like they were either about topliment us ormit a hate crime. Men stared like they were seeing cleavage for the first time.


    ¡®That¡¯s Yvaine Carlisle¡ªCarlisle family heiress,¡¯ someone whispered behind me. ¡®But the one next to her? Who is that?¡¯


    ¡®Mirabelle Vance,¡¯ someone else chimed in, sounding way too smug about it. ¡®She¡¯s marrying Rhys Granger. Wedding¡¯sing up soon. No wonder she¡¯s glowing.¡¯


    ¡®Pfft, glowing my arse. Everyone knows she¡¯s just clinging to Rhys. He doesn¡¯t even like her. Got someone else on the side, apparently.¡¯


    ¡®Please. Mirabelle Vance is a nobody. Even her own family doesn¡¯t back her. She¡¯s just some barista, right? Latching onto Rhys is the only thing she¡¯s got going for her.¡¯


    Thedies were whispering like we didn¡¯t have ears. Low voices, but not low enough. Every word floated straight over to us like smoke from a bad barbecue.


    Yvaine¡¯s eyes snapped up. She took one look at the group and started striding over like she was about to stage a very well-dressed homicide.


    ¡®Yvie,¡¯ I grabbed her wrist. ¡®Not here. It¡¯s the Laurents¡¯ party. You deck someone in this ballroom, we¡¯ll be cklisted from every g till we¡¯re sixty.¡¯


    She huffed. ¡®They¡¯re the ones running their mouths. If this bloody dress weren¡¯t so tight, I¡¯d be over there turning cheeks into handprints.¡¯


    Rtable.


    But I wasn¡¯t mad. Not really. Their gossip was so off-script it wasn¡¯t even offensive¡ªit was just outdated. The real social sharks would¡¯ve already known Rhys and I were done.


    Although... Rhys probably hadn¡¯t told anyone. Definitely not Louisa. And definitely not the family friends who¡¯d rat him out to her.


    Because if there was one thing Rhys Granger couldn¡¯t stomach, it was the idea that I walked away first.


    ¡®Are you just going to let them get away with it?¡¯ Yvaine seethed.


    ¡®Nope.¡¯


    I used to swallow that crap. Every side-eye, every whisper, every woman who told me I¡¯d never be enough for him. I swallowed it because I thought Rhys was worth it.


    Newssh: he wasn¡¯t.


    So I picked up a ss of juice from the drinks table¡ªcranberry, pretty and dangerous-looking¡ªand strolled over to the cackling hens.


    The one who¡¯d been pping her gums the most stood dead centre, swaddled in avender tulle monstrosity. Pearls everywhere. Big ones. Like she¡¯d raided her grandma¡¯s jewellery box.


    As soon as they saw me, they shut up. Blinked. Smiled like they weren¡¯t just ndering me.


    I smiled too and held out the ss to Miss Lavender. ¡®I would¡¯ve offered you soap, but since I don¡¯t carry that in my clutch, you¡¯ll have to make do with cranberry juice.¡¯


    She didn¡¯t take it. Just stared at the ss like it was about to bite her.


    I didn¡¯t move. Just stood there, hand extended. Waiting.


    Silence stretched.


    A few people turned to watch.


    I didn¡¯t move a muscle.


    Whatever was on my face must¡¯ve told her that this wasn¡¯t a bluff.


    If she didn¡¯t take the juice, I¡¯d pour it over her blowout without blinking.

 Chapter 22 - 23 Accusations

    <h4>Chapter 22: Chapter 23 usations</h4>


    The woman stared at me, then snatched the juice. ¡®Thanks, Miss Vance.¡¯


    ¡®No worries,¡¯ I said, smirking as I grabbed Yvaine¡¯s arm and pulled her away.


    Behind us, the chatter died.


    Yvaine hissed, ¡®Your stare just turned her skin fifty shades darker.¡¯


    I chuckled. ¡®I know their type. Keen to yap behind your back, yet freeze solid when you look them in the eye¡ªespecially in public.¡¯


    We drifted towards the dessert tables¡ªtwo twenty-metre feasts of cakes and champagne. With no immediate threat of juice assassination, I snagged a mini ¨¦ir and shoved it in my mouth.


    The gossipingdies hovered nearby, eyes flicking between us and their empty sses. Wisely, they switched targets and moved on to the Laurent family¡¯s heir.


    ¡®A few years back, the Laurents didn¡¯t even acknowledge that grandson of theirs. Didn¡¯t give him a single share. Nada.¡¯


    ¡®And yet he went off overseas and built his ownpany. Bigger than Laurent Global Holdings, from what I¡¯ve heard.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah, and I heard Edouard Laurent got seriously ill some years back, and LGH started tanking. No one in the family had the chops to save it, so suddenly the prodigal grandson wasn¡¯t so useless anymore.¡¯


    ¡®They dragged him back thinking he¡¯d work for free. Do them a favour. What they didn¡¯t expect was for the young Mr Laurent to quietly take control of the whole damn thing.¡¯


    ¡®My husband tells me he¡¯s now the actual boss of LGH.¡¯


    ¡®Not that he needs it. His ownpany makes LGH look like a roadside lemonade stand.¡¯


    ¡®Maybe that¡¯s what the family¡¯s worried about, that he doesn¡¯t need them. Hence the party.¡¯


    ¡®What do you mean?¡¯


    ¡®Haven¡¯t you heard? This party is the Laurents¡¯ way of making it clear that he¡¯s family now. Make it official, you know. So people will stop calling him a bastard child.¡¯


    I gave Yvaine a questioning look.


    As expected, she knew more than Gossip Ladies and dished the dirt.


    ¡®Young Mr Laurent wasn¡¯t always a Laurent. Rumour has it he was sort of cast aside as a kid. His mum died when he was a teen. Dad remarried. The rest of the n treated him like trash, sent him off with a suitcase and a pat on the back. But now they need him to bail out theirpany. Hence all the pomp.¡¯


    I snagged a lemon tart. His backstory hit close to home. ¡®He must¡¯ve been ruthless to w his way to the top.¡¯


    Yvaine nodded. ¡®Must be. Though I haven¡¯t met him yet. That¡¯s what everybody¡¯s here for.¡¯


    We made for a corner sofa.


    Laughter froze me mid-stride.


    A ring of young women crowded around a familiar face¡ªViolet Lin.


    She hadn¡¯t spotted me.


    ¡®I swear,¡¯ Violet was crowing, ¡®that ne sold out weeks ago. You¡¯d need an advance on your inheritance to score one now.¡¯


    ¡®Is it really the same ne Eliza ck unted on the red carpet?¡¯ one girl murmured.


    ¡®It¡¯s sooo nice! And only thirty grand,¡¯ another cooed. ¡®I¡¯d kill for one.¡¯


    Violet lofted her chin, soaking up the praise.


    I stared at the ne she was wearing.


    Just yesterday, she¡¯d sniffed at this piece. Now she was parading it like the crown jewels.


    ¡®I¡¯ve been t-out at Nyx Collective,¡¯ Violet fakeined. ¡®Thank god my boss gave me leave for this party.¡¯


    Someone perked up. ¡®You work there? Then you know who designed this?¡¯


    Violet¡¯s grin flickered, then went full Cheshire. ¡®Yes, I¡¯m a designer at Nyx.¡¯


    ¡®So you made this?¡¯ the girl pressed, eyes glittering.


    Violet hesitated, then nodded.


    They crowded in, desperate for a closer peek at the ¡®must-have¡¯ essory.


    ¡®Bullshit! That¡¯s Mira¡¯s design,¡¯ Yvaine snapped. ¡®You had zero to do with it.¡¯


    Silence snapped across the marble hall. Everyone¡¯s jaws hit the floor. Heads swivelled.


    When she saw me, Violet nched so hard her mascara threatened to drip.


    Her smug smile shrivelled. She jabbed a manicured finger at me. ¡®Mirabelle Vance, this isn¡¯t your crowd. How¡¯d you get in here? Did you sneak in or fake an invite?¡¯


    Before I couldunch my own barb, Yvaine yanked two crisp envelopes from her clutch and pped them onto Violet¡¯s palm.


    ¡®Official Laurent invite,¡¯ she said. ¡®Addressed to Mira and me. Where¡¯s yours?¡¯


    ¡®My what?¡¯ Violet kept staring at me.


    ¡®Your invite.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s... in my purse.¡¯


    ¡®Care to show it?¡¯


    ¡®Why?¡¯


    ¡®Just humour me.¡¯ Yvaine shrugged. ¡®Unless you don¡¯t have one.¡¯


    ¡®I...¡¯ Violet reached inside her purse, but her hand stayed there.


    Yvaine crossed her arms. ¡®I¡¯m waiting.¡¯


    ¡®I must have... misced it.¡¯


    ¡®Or you don¡¯t have one. You came here as someone¡¯s plus one, didn¡¯t you? Or did you sneak in via the back door?¡¯


    The entire hall went mute. Violet¡¯s cheeks med.


    I winced a little. As much as I wasn¡¯t Violet¡¯s biggest fan, even I had to admit, watching her get roasted alive by Yvaine in front of a crowd this size was... rough.


    Still. I wasn¡¯t about to throw her a life raft.


    I said to Violet, ¡®I know exactly why you tried to use us of crashing the party. You thought if you got us thrown out, no one¡¯d be able to prove you didn¡¯t design that ne.¡¯


    The crowd edged closer.


    Violet stiffened. ¡®I did design it.¡¯ She gripped her phone. ¡®I have the original drafts to prove it. You¡¯re not stealing my work!¡¯


    My eyes narrowed.


    She could be bluffing, or she might really have the drafts.


    As another Nyx Collective designer, Violet had ess to other people¡¯s drafts. And Savannah said she wanted to use my ne sketch as a sample for a studio workshop.


    Maybe I¡¯d underestimated Violet. I hadn¡¯t expected her to save a copy on her phone. Had she been nning to pull a stunt like this?


    She held up her phone. ¡®Look! I have the drafts right here!¡¯


    A cluster of guests leaned in. One nce at her screen and their suspicion flipped sides. Suddenly, I was the viin of the night.


    Violet¡¯s smugness dripped off her like cheap perfume.


    I didn¡¯t react. Just waited.


    Waited until she¡¯d shoved that screen under every nose in a ten-foot radius.


    Then I said, ¡®Good thing you showed everyone. Saved me the trouble.¡¯


    Her phone-hand wobbled. ¡®What do you mean?¡¯


    I said to one of the girls currently inspecting the drafts. ¡®Why don¡¯t you zoom in? Check the engraving on the tiny diamonds.¡¯

 Chapter 23 - 24 The Girlfriend and the Ex

    <h4>Chapter 23: Chapter 24 The Girlfriend and the Ex</h4>


    Violet¡¯s face twitched. She made a futile grab for the phone.


    The girl zoomed in obediently. Her eyes went wide. ¡®There¡¯s an M,¡¯ she blurted. ¡®Tiny, but it¡¯s there!¡¯


    A ripple went through the crowd.


    ¡®That¡¯s the designer¡¯s signature, right? The M?¡¯ someone whispered, loud enough to be not-whispering.


    ¡®It says M. Bloody hell, it really is Mirabelle¡¯s design!¡¯


    Violet¡¯s face went from ghost-pale to lobster-red in two seconds t. She snatched her phone back and mashed the power button like she was trying to murder it.


    Toote. The whispers were already turning into openughter. The kind that bites.


    ¡®If you¡¯re gonna steal,¡¯ I said sweetly, ¡®at least do it properly.¡¯


    I took two slow steps forward, stopping just short of her personal space, and gave her ne a pointed once-over.


    My brow furrowed slightly, like I¡¯d just spotted something nasty in my drink. ¡®That piece around your neck shouldn¡¯t even be here. It¡¯s the prototype¡ªthe very first design. Andst I checked, that thing was locked behind ss at Nyx Collective¡¯s gship showroom.¡¯


    I tilted my head and gave her the kind of look reserved for particrly dumb criminals.


    ¡®Stealing¡¯s really your only talent, huh?¡¯


    For half a second, the room froze. You could hear a champagne bubble pop.


    Then Yvaine cracked up, loud and savage. ¡®So the ne¡¯s stolen too? Damn, is the Lin family that broke? Can¡¯t even afford jewellery anymore?¡¯


    Violet looked like she wanted to melt straight through the marble floor. Her face was so red, it practically shed with the lighting. She fidgeted with the ne, probably feeling like it was burning a hole through her skin.


    I saw the moment she thought about running. She shifted her weight, nced sideways, just about to bolt¡ª


    When the ballroom doors flew open and a fresh wave of noise crashed in.


    Rhys Granger had arrived. And right beside him, looking disgustingly smug in bubblegum pink, was Catherine Vance.


    Rhys wore a sharp ck suit, cold and expensive like something he¡¯d nicked off a mannequin at Dior. Catherine floated next to him, not holding his arm but close enough that they might as well have been glued together.


    Murmurs rippled across the room.


    ¡®God, they look good together. Perfect match.¡¯


    ¡®Told you Rhys never liked Mirabelle. Catherine¡¯s always been his real choice.¡¯


    My grin slipped. Just peeled right off my face.


    Seeing them side by side in public hit me. It wasn¡¯t heartbreak. It wasn¡¯t rage. It was more like reaching for a ss of champagne and tasting dishwater instead.


    I knew Rhys too bloody well. He¡¯d nned this.


    Louisa was still in hospital. Which meant she wouldn¡¯t see this. Wouldn¡¯t hear about it until muchter, after the whole social circle had already gotten cosy with the idea of Rhys and Catherine being a thing.


    By then, Louisa, who hated Catherine with the passion of a thousand suns, would be trapped. Everyone would expect her to ept it.


    After I¡¯d refused to keep ying fianc¨¦e with him, this was his n B.


    The n was slick, sly, and absolutely filthy.


    I thought back to thest public event I¡¯d dragged myself to with Rhys.


    We¡¯d arrived together, technically, but he peeled off the second we said hi to the hosts. Left me standing there like a coat rack while he spent the night chatting golf swings and table football with his idiot friends.


    I should¡¯ve clocked it then. Rhys Granger was never going to love me the way I wanted.


    I got it now. The weird nces his friends kept sneaking me at that party weren¡¯t about my dress or my hair. They were pity.


    And God, thinking about it still made my throat burn. Like swallowing ss.


    I blinked hard, shoved it down, and dragged Yvaine away.


    Yvaine threw a death re over her shoulder. Then she said, real loud, ¡®Imagine bringing your side chick to such a party. Some people have thicker skin than a concrete bunker.¡¯


    Catherine stomped up to us, blocking my path.


    ¡®Mira,¡¯ she said, shing this tragic, I¡¯m-so-sorry face. ¡®I didn¡¯t know you¡¯d be here. Rhys and I just got together to talk about work, and then he said he didn¡¯t have a date, so he asked me toe.¡¯


    I stared at her.


    ¡®Right. Total coincidence. That why you¡¯re dressed like a Valentine¡¯s Day massacre?¡¯ I flicked my fingers at her sparkly pink gown. ¡®That your usual work outfit now?¡¯


    Catherine blinked. It hit her a second toote that I wasn¡¯t ying nice anymore.


    She used to have me pegged. Sweet, soft, desperate for Rhys¡¯s approval. I used to eat shit with a smile if it meant he¡¯d look at me twice.


    Not tonight.


    Catherine clutched her hands so tight I could see the blood leave her knuckles. Her eyes went ssy fast, like she was about to start sobbing on cue.


    ¡®It¡¯s all my fault,¡¯ she said, voice trembling. ¡®I shouldn¡¯t havee with Rhys. Please don¡¯t be mad.¡¯


    Before I could tell her where to shove her apology, Rhys strolled over. He took one look at Catherine and immediately switched into Knight-in-Shining-Dumbass mode.


    His gaze flicked to me. For a split second, something red in his eyes¡ªsurprise, maybe even a hint of regret¡ªbut he snuffed it out quick, like it was illegal to look impressed by me now.


    ¡®Mira, don¡¯t start,¡¯ he said sharply. ¡®I brought her. It¡¯s on me.¡¯


    I smirked. ¡®I¡¯m not starting anything. She¡¯s the one fake-crying like it¡¯s open-mic night.¡¯


    Rhys didn¡¯t believe a word of it. He shot me a warning re, grabbed Catherine¡¯s wrist, and yanked her away.


    Yvaine shed his back a very enthusiastic middle finger.


    ¡®Think he¡¯s just unting Catherine to piss me off?¡¯ I said, reaching for a drink I didn¡¯t even want.


    Yvaine snorted. ¡®Partly, yeah. But mostly? He¡¯s here to sniff around the Laurents. My brother heard half this bloody room¡¯s trying to cosy up to the young heir tonight.¡¯


    ¡®Emmett told you that?¡¯ I asked.


    She nodded. ¡®Straight from the horse¡¯s mouth. Clive Granger was supposed to show up himself, but he¡¯s stuck at the hospital with Louisa. So he shoved golden boy out the door instead.¡¯


    Something Catherine had said earlier kept nagging at me. ¡®Wait. Are Catherine and Rhys... working together now?¡¯

 Chapter 24 - 25 Violent SOB

    <h4>Chapter 24: Chapter 25 Violent SOB</h4>


    Yvaine suddenly found the floor fascinating. Her heels. A smudge on the carpet. Anything but my face.


    ¡®Yvaine,¡¯ I said, sharper this time. ¡®You know all the gossip in town. Spill.¡¯


    She winced. ¡®I didn¡¯t want to tell you. Thought it might... I don¡¯t know. Upset you.¡¯


    ¡®Trust me,¡¯ I said. ¡®The only thing that could upset me right now is running out of alcohol.¡¯


    Yvaine gave a guilty little shrug. ¡®Fine. Yeah. They¡¯re working together. Catherine¡¯s his secretary now.¡¯


    For a second, I thought I hadn¡¯t heard her right. ¡®Secretary? Like... scheduling and stuff?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah.¡¯


    I barked out augh, way too loud for a party this fancy. A few people nced over. I didn¡¯t care.


    Back when Rhys and I were a thing, I needed to book an appointment just to swing by his office with a sandwich.


    Now Catherine, whose only organisational skill was getting thrown out of a club in under ten minutes, got an all-ess pass?


    ¡®Of course she is,¡¯ I said, grabbing another drink off the tray of a passing waiter. ¡®Of bloody course.¡¯


    Yvaine quickly changed the subject. ¡®Why don¡¯t we go say hi to the Van Astors? Their son runs a boutique fashionbel. Might be a chance for you to cob.¡¯


    I nodded and followed her across the room. Business before drama. Always.


    But apparently, Catherine didn¡¯t share that thought.


    I had just sealed a handshake deal with Whitman Van Astor to look at my new designs¡ªmy jewellery line might even end up in his next springunch¡ªwhen she came back, dragging Serenna Oakley behind her.


    I¡¯d clocked Serenna the second she slithered in. Looked like Catherine had pulled some strings to get her an invite.


    God knew when those two got so chummy, though. Last I checked, Serenna was still gging off Catherine¡¯s taste in shoes.


    Serenna shed a smug little grin at me. ¡®Bet you didn¡¯t expect to see me at the Laurent party, huh?¡¯


    I gave her a once-over. Designer dress, borrowed confidence, and a face that said ¡®please validate me¡¯.


    I turned to Catherine. ¡®You might wanna be careful. Our dear cousin¡¯s been obsessed with Rhys since school. You sure you wanna parade him around with her sniffing after him?¡¯


    Catherine¡¯s face stiffened. She snapped her head towards Serenna, eyes sharp enough to shave an eyebrow clean off.


    Serenna went the colour of a bad spray tan. ¡®Don¡¯t listen to her! She thinks every girl on the¡¯s gagging for Rhys.¡¯


    ¡®And you¡¯re one of them,¡¯ I said, all helpful-like.


    ¡®No I¡¯m not! Not anymore!¡¯


    ¡®Huh.¡¯ I raised an eyebrow. ¡®You¡¯ve got a new target then? Who is it?¡¯


    Serenna iled for a second, then swung towards Catherine. ¡®Cathy, swear down, I don¡¯t have a thing for Rhys. I know you two are meant to be.¡¯


    Catherine wavered, chewing over whether to trust Serenna or not, before she gave a stiff little nod. ¡®I believe you.¡¯


    Then she turned to me. ¡®This is an important party for Rhys. I hope you won¡¯t ruin it.¡¯


    I crossed my arms. ¡®Trust me, Catherine, I¡¯ve got nothing more to do with him. Whether this is the best night of his life or he trips over a napkin and dies of embarrassment, I couldn¡¯t care less.¡¯


    Her smile wobbled but she ploughed on. ¡®I know you¡¯re bitter, but please, be reasonable. There are a lot of business elites here tonight. Rhys is trying to secure an investment deal with the Laurents. Please don¡¯t let your personal feelings ruin this chance for him.¡¯


    ¡®My personal feelings? You mean you don¡¯t want me to broadcast the fact that I dumped Rhys because he¡¯s a violent little SOB who hasn¡¯t got the spine to tell his mother he¡¯s in love with someone else? Instead, he just rolls over and epts a fianc¨¦e he never wanted, because having an actual conversation might be too scary for him? Yeah, I can see how that wouldn¡¯t really help his investment pitch.¡¯


    Serenna nced between us, eyes wide, clearly clocking that there was way more dirt under this rug than anyone had warned her about.


    Catherine had the grace to blush, but not the good sense to back off. ¡®Whatever happened,¡¯ she said, voice tight, ¡®you and I are still family. And Rhys will be family too. So please, don¡¯t do anything you¡¯ll regret.¡¯


    I rolled my eyes so hard it was a miracle I could still see straight.


    There was no point trying to exin it to her. In Catherine¡¯s mind, I was still the pathetic little fangirl who used to trail after Rhys like a lost puppy. Nothing I said would change that.


    So I turned to leave.


    I barely made it two steps before I caught a shift in the air behind me, then that overpowering floral cloud Catherine called perfume hit my nose.


    A split-secondter, her heel clipped the back of my ankle.


    I pitched forward, barely catching myself before I facented.


    Before I could turn around, she yanked the long white tablecloth with both hands. Drinks, cakes, fancy canap¨¦ towers¡ªall of it crashed to the floor in one glorious, sticky mess.


    The entire ballroom snapped to attention. Heads whipped round so fast, I swear I heard a few necks crack.


    And right on cue, Serenna threw herself into the spotlight like she¡¯d rehearsed for it. ¡®Oh no! Mirabelle just trashed the party! She¡¯s ruining everything!¡¯


    The words had barely left her mouth before there was a loud smack.


    I shook out my stinging hand. ¡®You tore the tablecloth off and tried to pin it on me. You think I¡¯m blind?¡¯


    Catherine clutched her cheek. ¡®It wasn¡¯t me! It was you! You pulled it by ident... I swear...¡¯


    Yvaine snapped out of her shock and delivered a p of her own, this one right across Serenna¡¯s pretty little face. ¡®You really thought that stupid stunt would work? You think everyone here¡¯s as thick as you?¡¯


    Serenna screeched. ¡®How dare you hit me! I saw it with my own eyes¡ªMirabelle ruined the party on purpose!¡¯


    She grabbed a random ss of wine off the wreckage and aimed it at Yvaine¡¯s face.


    I lunged to block it, but the wine still sshed down Yvaine¡¯s shoulder, soaking half her dress.


    I had been holding back all night. I really had.


    But that was it.


    I grabbed Serenna by the hair and yanked. ¡®Go on. Try throwing another drink. See what happens.¡¯


    Serenna howled like a dying cat, scrabbling at my hands.


    Catherine tried to rush over to help her, but Yvaine blocked her with a shove.


    ¡®You want a scene?¡¯ Yvaine said, wild-eyed and grinning. ¡®Fine. Let¡¯s give ¡¯em a bloody show.¡¯

 Chapter 25 - 26 Ashton’s POV: Gladiator Style

    <h4>Chapter 25: Chapter 26 Ashton¡¯s POV: diator Style</h4>


    ¡®So who¡¯s the poor girl you¡¯ve tricked into getting engaged to you without telling anyone?¡¯ Reginald demanded. ¡®The least you can do is introduce her.¡¯


    Reginald Laurent. Ashton¡¯s biological father. Walking proof that money couldn¡¯t buypetence.


    He looked the part¡ªmid-forties, still in decent shape, sharp enough jawline¡ªbut inside? Empty.


    Everyone in Skyline City knew old man Edouard, king of Laurent Global Holdings, would rather set fire to his empire than hand Reginald the keys.


    The guy didn¡¯t have the grit. Never had.


    Maybe Reginald knew it too. Maybe that was why he spent most of his time punching down, taking out his insecurities on people who could not punch back. Like young Ashton.


    Once upon a time, Ashton used to care. Used to wonder why his father treated him like he was something scraped off a shoe.


    But those days were dead and buried.


    Ashton did not even look up from hisptop. He had a conference call with London, Paris, and Frankfurt in two minutes. Reginald barging in, as usual, wasn¡¯t enough to break his focus.


    ¡®She¡¯s here at the party. You¡¯ll meet her soon enough,¡¯ Ashton said, voice t.


    ¡®But, Ash, what your father means is, we don¡¯t know anything about her,¡¯ Gwendolyn Laurent piped up. ¡®I mean, sure, we know her name and that she¡¯s a...¡¯ Her mouth twisted like she was chewing ss, ¡®a barista. But are you sure this is the right match? You need a wife who can handle the mayor¡¯s gs, investor dinners, charity auctions. Is a barista really going to survive in our world?¡¯


    Ashton finally looked up, staring her dead in the eye.


    There it was. Fake concern, real agenda.


    Gwendolyn wasn¡¯t worried about his sudden engagement. She was thrilled.


    Ashton marrying a ¡®nobody¡¯ meant her precious son, Den, might actually stand a chance. In her twisted daydreams, Den wasn¡¯t just going to inherit Laurent Global Holdings, he was going to snatch Titanova Corp out from under Ashton too.


    Ashton shut hisptop with a click.


    ¡®Whether she¡¯s up to the job is none of your concern. And I didn¡¯t ask for your worthless opinion.¡¯


    Reginald¡¯s nostrils red. ¡®She¡¯s your mother! Show some respect!¡¯


    ¡®Step-mother,¡¯ Ashton said, dragging out the first syble like he was scrubbing it with sandpaper. ¡®And while we¡¯re on the subject, I didn¡¯t ask for yours, either.¡¯


    He hit the inte. ¡®Gareth. Get them out. Whoever let them in¡ªdock his pay for three months.¡¯


    ¡®Yes, boss,¡¯ came Gareth Stone¡¯s dry reply.


    Thirty secondster, the head of Ashton¡¯s security detail walked in.


    ¡®Mr and Mrs Laurent,¡¯ Gareth said, holding out an arm. ¡®This way, please.¡¯


    Reginald opened his mouth like he was about to argue, then caught the look in Ashton¡¯s eyes and thought better of it.


    The moment the study door shut, Ashton patched through his international call.


    Titanova Corp usually ran like a well-oiled machine, but certain things¡ªlike shady local governments and militia groups who thought bribes were a national sport¡ªstill needed his personal touch.


    Half an hourter, he wrapped up the call, adjusted his suit with a sharp tug, and was about to head downstairs when Dominic Everett, his assistant, hurried in.


    ¡®She here?¡¯ Ashton asked, already knowing the answer.


    Dominic, used to Ashton¡¯s one-track mind where Mirabelle Vance was concerned, nodded. ¡®Miss Vance has arrived.¡¯ He hesitated, then added, ¡®But there¡¯s been an... incident.¡¯


    ¡®Spit it out.¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯s... ah, fighting someone in the ballroom. As in, actual fistfight. Not a verbal argument.¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s jaw tightened. His entire expression darkened like someone had switched off the lights inside him.


    He brushed past Dominic without a word and stormed towards the stairs.


    Cassian Langford, looking half-asleep and rubbing his face like he had just lost a brawl with his pillow, caught up to him.


    ¡®What¡¯s all the noise downstairs?¡¯ he asked, voice still scratchy.


    When his friend didn¡¯t answer, Cassian jogged after Ashton, but almost crashed into his back when Ashton abruptly stopped at thending.


    Following Ashton¡¯s line of sight, Cassian peered down.


    ¡®Bloody hell,¡¯ he muttered, eyes widening. ¡®When you invited me to the party, I didn¡¯t know it was going to be diator-style.¡¯


    The ballroom was chaos. Guests scrambled back, forming a rough ring around the brewing disaster in the centre.


    Ashton recognised Mirabelle¡¯s friend Yvaine, who¡¯d just kicked Catherine square in the gut. Not hard enough to do real damage¡ªshe was in a dress that was more for show thanbat¡ªbut it was enough to block Catherine from throwing herself in front of Serenna like a budget bodyguard.


    Catherine seized her moment. Tears poured down her face like someone had flipped a switch.


    ¡®Mira, I was only trying to help,¡¯ she sobbed. ¡®You pulled the tablecloth and knocked over the buffet by ident. I was just helping you pick up the pieces. Why would you hit me? And Serenna was only trying to help, too!¡¯


    A few of her cronies, already nted at the party like bad weeds, caught her frantic nces. They rushed over to back her up.


    ¡®You can¡¯t just go around hitting people!¡¯ one of them screeched.


    ¡®Yeah, what the hell? This isn¡¯t a bloody food market!¡¯ another barked, full Karen-mode activated.


    Yvaine, scrappy but outnumbered, started looking boxed in.


    Before Ashton could even blink, Mirabelle moved. She stormed up, grabbed Catherine by the hair like she was yanking weeds, and mmed her halfway to the marble floor.


    ¡®Don¡¯t think I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re pulling. You set this whole thing up, didn¡¯t you?¡¯


    Her fingers twisted harder. Catherine whimpered. Mirabelle did not let up. With her other hand, she still had a death grip on Serenna.


    Screams and curses ricocheted around the room. Everyone else was freaking out.


    Ashton didn¡¯t see any of it.


    He only saw her.


    He stood on the stairs, fists clenching, watching Mirabelle¡ªtiny, furious, unstoppable¡ªpinning two grown women like it was nothing.


    Her arms looked slim, but damn, she was strong. Catherine and Serenna could not even lift their heads.


    Mirabelle held herself like a queen. Her spine was straight, her chin tipped back slightly, the diamonds around her neck catching the chandeliers and tossing the light back like a thousand tiny knives.


    She made dragging two idiots across a ballroom look... weirdly attractive.


    ¡®Why are you grinning like an idiot?¡¯ Cassian pointed at Ashton¡¯s face. ¡®Does a catfight turn you on?¡¯


    Ashton touched his face. He hadn¡¯t even realised he was smiling.


    But how could he not, when it was Mirabelle?


    He had been wrong. Mirabelle didn¡¯t need rescuing.


    She was feisty, fearless, never-let-them-take-an-inch Mirabelle.


    Soon-to-be-his Mirabelle.

 Chapter 26 - 27 His Real Name

    <h4>Chapter 26: Chapter 27 His Real Name</h4>


    Chaos was breaking out, but Yvaine wasn¡¯t exactly losing. She¡¯dnded a kick on everyone who came near, even knocked one guy t on his arse.


    ¡®All those kickboxing sses finally paying off.¡¯ She even had the time to gloat to me.


    I nodded at her.


    That was when Rhys finally decided to show up, fresh from whatever mirror he¡¯d been admiring himself in.


    He took one look at the scene and his face went from ¡®Skyline City heartthrob¡¯ to ¡®iing category five hurricane¡¯ in half a second.


    ¡®Mirabelle! What the hell are you doing? If you¡¯re pissed off, take it out on me! Leave Catherine out of it!¡¯ he snapped, storming towards me.


    Moving fast, he grabbed my wrist, trying to yank my hand out of Catherine¡¯s hair.


    But I wasn¡¯t letting go.


    ¡®You stay out of it!¡¯ I snapped, tightening my grip. ¡®You just assume it¡¯s my fault without even asking, yeah?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re literally dragging Catherine around by her hair! Am I supposed to pretend I¡¯m blind?¡¯


    The room was full of Skyline¡¯s top-tier elite¡ªthe type of people Rhys used to stalk on LinkedIn and now desperately wanted to impress. His ego must¡¯ve been melting faster than an ice cream on a July pavement.


    So, naturally, he took it out on me, yanking my arm so hard I thought my bones would snap.


    I barely had time to swear before a hand mped down on Rhys¡¯s arm. Hard.


    Rhys stiffened. ¡®Who the hell¡ª?¡¯


    Ashton ripped Rhys¡¯s hand off me like peeling gum off a shoe, and took hold of my wrist. ¡®Come with me.¡¯


    The way he was ring at Rhys, you¡¯d think he was two seconds away from breaking every bone in his hand.


    I nced down. A bright red mark was blooming across my wrist like some godawful brand. Fantastic. Just what I needed ¡ª battle scars from my ex.


    Ashton saw it too. His eyes narrowed. He shot Rhys a look so cold it could¡¯ve frozen the Hudson. Rhys actually flinched, breaking into a nervous sweat.


    He just stood there, dumb as amppost, while Ashton led me upstairs without a word.


    Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted some guy in a suit storming towards Yvaine, with a swarm of security guards on his heels.


    ¡®Let go of me! Not my fault!¡¯ Yvaine shrieked. ¡®Everyone saw it! Rhys has been cheating, parading his side chick around like it¡¯s spring break, and they ganged up on Mira! The wedding¡¯s off! And it¡¯s not Mira¡¯s fault she¡¯s bailing ¡ª it¡¯s because Rhys is a lying piece of shit!¡¯


    ¡®I need to get to my friend,¡¯ I said.


    ¡®She¡¯ll be fine,¡¯ Ashton said curtly.


    I saw the guy in the suit barking orders at the guards, waving them towards the knot of people crowding Yvaine. They waded in, peeling the mob off her.


    Yvaine was still on her feet, looking pissed but perfectly fine.


    Ashton added, ¡®They¡¯reing this way. Don¡¯t worry, your friend¡¯s fine.¡¯


    No time to argue. His grip on my wrist was firm but not rough, dragging me into a side room that looked like a private lounge.


    Secondster, the suit came barging in, hauling Yvaine by the arm.


    He raked a hand through his immactely groomed hair and barked at her, ¡®Right. Start talking. What the hell happened?¡¯


    Yvaine grabbed a napkin and started dabbing at her wine-soaked dress. Sheunched into a y-by-y of the mess downstairs.


    While she ranted, Ashton brought out a med kit, his hand surprisingly gentle as he dabbed antiseptic on my wrist. His touch was careful, almost... reverent.


    The iodine burned slightly.


    Not that it was the worst part. The real problem was how bloody close he was. Ashton was half-kneeling in front of me, breath ghosting over my skin, and between the sting and the heat of him, my whole arm was ready to catch fire.


    His eyes flicked over me, sharp and thorough, like he was scanning for damage. I felt stripped bare.


    I yanked my hand back and shrugged like it was no big deal. ¡®I¡¯m fine, really. I box, you know. If it hade down to it, those girls wouldn¡¯t have stood a chance.¡¯


    Ashton pushed himself upright, grabbed his phone, and made a call. When it connected, he said, ¡®Pull the security footage from the first floor.¡¯


    I checked on Yvaine, blotting at the giant wine stain on her designer dress. The guy in the suit hovered nearby, passing me tissues like he was trying to make himself useful.


    ¡®That dress is a goner,¡¯ he said. ¡®I¡¯ll tell the housekeeper to bring you a fresh one.¡¯


    Yvaine waved it off. ¡®The dress is fine. If you hadn¡¯t dragged me off, I swear I would¡¯ve roasted Rhys into a permanent meme!¡¯


    Then she shot me an apologetic wince and said, ¡®Mira, about me yelling the whole engagement¡¯s off in public¡ªyou¡¯re not mad, right? It just sort of... slipped out.¡¯


    I shrugged. ¡®I¡¯m not mad.¡¯


    Then I looked over at Ashton. ¡®I didn¡¯t realise you¡¯d arrived. You were upstairs this whole time?¡¯


    Even when fists were flying and sses were smashing, I hadn¡¯t missed it. Ashton had appeared from the second floor, not the front entrance.


    Ashton hesitated.


    Before he could say anything, the guy in the suit cut in: ¡®Why can¡¯t he be upstairs? He lives here.¡¯


    I blinked at Ashton. ¡®You live here?¡¯


    Yvaine butted in too, eyes flicking between the guy in the suit and Ashton. ¡®Wait, you two know each other?¡¯


    The guy nodded. ¡®Duh. We¡¯ve been friends for ages. That¡¯s Ashton Laurent. Just got back from Europe. This whole party¡¯s for him.¡¯


    I nearly fell over. ¡®Ashton Laurent? You told me your name was Ashton Girard!¡¯


    At the same time, Yvaine screeched too: ¡®Ashton? Mira, this is your new fianc¨¦?¡¯


    Ashton, calm as a dead heart monitor, said to me, ¡®Girard¡¯s my mum¡¯s surname. Laurent¡¯s my dad¡¯s.¡¯


    His friend¡¯s jaw hit the floor. ¡®Wait, what? You¡¯re engaged?¡¯


    Ashton side-eyed him. ¡®This party is to announce it. Didn¡¯t you get the memo?¡¯

 Chapter 27 - 28 Complicated

    <h4>Chapter 27: Chapter 28 Complicated</h4>


    My brain was doing somersaults.


    I knew the Laurents were throwing this party, but I¡¯d thought Ashton was just a guest, not the bloody host himself.


    Ashton hadn¡¯t exactly lied to me, but neither had he told me the full truth.


    Then something his friend had said earlier lit up in my head, and I rounded back: ¡®If this is your house, why the hell did you rent the t opposite mine at Oakwood Apartments?¡¯


    Ashton looked me dead in the eye. ¡®Oakwood¡¯s mypany¡¯s development. The whole building¡¯s mine. I stay there sometimes.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s how you knew I¡¯d moved there. I¡¯m your... tenant.¡¯


    He nodded.


    Another memory hit me between the eyes. ¡®And La Vache Dor¨¦e? You own that restaurant too?¡¯


    He nodded.


    ¡®And the bar?¡¯ Damn it, I couldn¡¯t even remember its name. ¡®The one where we... the night we...¡¯


    Another nod.


    My emotions were doing the cha-cha. Badly.


    Since the day I met him, Ashton had given off a dangerous aura, not murderer-dangerous, more like apex-predator-dangerous. The height, the build, the lethal arms that looked like they could punch through drywall, the unreadable eyes¡ªyou¡¯d have to be suicidal not to flinch.


    And yet.


    He¡¯d picked up my keys when I dropped them and driven halfway across the city to return them.


    He¡¯d gone along with my drunken, desperate one-night-stand n without a flicker of judgement.


    He¡¯d even offered to fake an engagement to help me get my pushy parents off my back.


    Somewhere in my idiot brain, I¡¯d filed him under ¡®dangerous but good-hearted¡¯.


    Now, though, knowing he literally owned half of Skyline City and more, the pressure crushed down on me like a hydraulic press.


    I didn¡¯t know what I felt.


    Shock, sure.


    But it was more than that.


    It was like thinking you¡¯d adopted a scrappy little kitten, only to realise you¡¯d been cuddling a bloody tiger.


    The room went dead silent.


    Then Yvaine mumbled, ¡®I, ah, I can¡¯t wear this. I need to change. Cas,e with me.¡¯


    She grabbed the man¡¯s arm and bolted out of the room.


    ¡®I¡¯ll put the first-aid kit back,¡¯ Ashton said, disappearing into the en suite bathroom.


    I heard Yvaine¡¯s voice outside: ¡®Why the hell didn¡¯t you tell me he was Ashton Laurent?¡¯


    The man she called Cas shot back, ¡®How was I supposed to know you¡¯d met him before? And why¡¯re you dragging me off? I haven¡¯t even asked about the bloody engagement yet!¡¯


    ¡®Did you not hear? They¡¯re engaged.¡¯


    ¡®No way! Ashton¡¯s been in love with someone for years. What¡¯s this engagement bullshit?¡¯


    ¡®What? What someone? Who is it? Spit it out¡ª¡¯


    Their voices faded as they stormed down the hall.


    I sat there, the echoes of their argument fizzing through my skull.


    ¡®Complicated¡¯ did not even begin to cover it.


    If what Ashton¡¯s friend said was true, that he was in love with someone else, why¡¯d he agree to be fake-engaged to me?


    I heard the footsteps before I saw them.


    Rhys shoved the door open. ¡®Mirabelle! Have you lost your bloody mind? Apologise to Catherine! And that idiot bestie of yours, yelling about you calling off the engagement, embarrassing me in front of the whole city! Was that your idea?¡¯


    I tilted my head, brows pulling tight. I¡¯d just managed to cool off, but Rhys¡¯s voice was like lighter fluid on a barbecue.


    ¡®Rhys,¡¯ I said sweetly, ¡®we¡¯re already done. Yvaine was just telling the truth.¡¯


    ¡®We¡¯re not done unless I say we¡¯re done!¡¯ He scowled. ¡®We¡¯ll talk about thatter. Catherine¡¯s face is swollen thanks to you. Don¡¯t you feel the tiniest bit guilty?¡¯


    Behind him, Catherine clung to his sleeve like a human handkerchief.


    ¡®I¡¯m fine,¡¯ she said in a tiny voice. ¡®If she doesn¡¯t want to apologise to me, whatever. But she should apologise to the Laurents. The ballroom¡¯s a total mess now. The party¡¯s basically ruined before it even began.¡¯


    Rhys gave her hand a patronising pat, then turned back to me. ¡®Cathy¡¯s right. You need to apologise to the Laurents. Publicly. Immediately. Or I¡¯ll¡ª¡¯


    The words barely left his mouth when the bathroom door behind me swung open.


    Ashton strode past me, nting himself right in Rhys¡¯s face. ¡®She¡¯s not apologising to anyone.¡¯


    Rhys blinked at him, thrown off for half a second.


    I could see the wheels in his brain creaking under the weight.


    He¡¯d seen Ashton downstairs earlier, thought he looked familiar, but couldn¡¯t ce him.


    In his tiny little mind, that meant one thing: I¡¯d picked up some random loser.


    Rhys¡¯s nostrils red. He looked Ashton up and down like he was some discount handbag.


    ¡®And who the fuck are you supposed to be?¡¯


    I couldn¡¯t see Ashton¡¯s face, but he must have done something that made Rhys stiffen.


    ¡®This is the Laurent family¡¯s turf!¡¯ Rhys gulped, voice cracking. ¡®You¡¯ve got no say here. And whatever¡¯s going on between me and Mirabelle is none of your damn business either. If you¡¯ve got half a brain, you¡¯ll get lost.¡¯


    Ashton took half a step forward.


    Rhys flinched and staggered back before he even knew what he was doing.


    Before anyone could throw a punch, someone knocked once and pushed the door open. ¡®Boss, I got the footage.¡¯


    Footage?


    I saw Rhys¡¯s right eyelid twitching like crazy, and judging by the way he was suddenly sweating through his shirt, he was about to have a very bad day.


    ¡®Boss? What...?¡¯


    Then I saw realisation dawn in his eyes.


    I caught Rhys giving Ashton a double take.


    For a second, I almost pitied him. Almost.


    Rhys opened his mouth, probably about to dig himself even deeper, but Catherine jumped in first, her voice wobbling. ¡®W-what footage?¡¯


    Ashton did not even spare her a nce. He was busy watching the tablet the neer handed to him, face carved out of pure ice.


    ¡®Put it up on the main screen,¡¯ he said. ¡®First floor. y it on loop. Full volume.¡¯


    ¡®Got it, boss.¡¯ The man nodded and spoke into his earpiece.

 Chapter 28 - 29 Footage

    <h4>Chapter 28: Chapter 29 Footage</h4>


    Thirty secondster, the giant screen in the centre of the ballroom lit up, crystal-clear like some Hollywood premiere, every detail sharp enough to catch the sweat prickling on Catherine¡¯s arms.


    From where I stood near the open door, I had the perfect view of the disaster unfolding downstairs.


    Rhys whipped around to stare at Catherine. ¡®You said Mirabelle was stirring shit, pulling the tablecloth and trying to pin it on you. So exin to me why, in that footage, it¡¯s your hand yanking the cloth, and Mira¡¯s nowhere bloody near it?¡¯


    Catherine burst into tears on cue, shaking so hard her diamond earrings rattled. She stammered for ages, blubbering, ¡®Maybe I, I tugged it by ident? Mirabelle kept provoking me, and I panicked, I thought...¡¯


    No one was buying it.


    Catherine grabbed Rhys¡¯s sleeve. ¡®Rhys, I didn¡¯t mean to cause trouble! Mirabelle set me off!¡¯


    Ashton cut in, ¡®Miss Vance, the cameras record audio too. If you insist on your innocence, I can have them pull the full footage from when you arrived. Let¡¯s all hear exactly how Mirabelle ¡°provoked¡± you, shall we?¡¯


    ¡®No!¡¯ Catherine yelped.


    She shut up after that, probably realising no amount of ugly crying was going to spin this train wreck.


    Her mascara was sliding down her face in greasy ck rivers, but Rhys wasn¡¯t even looking at her anymore.


    He stood there, breathing like he wanted to strangle someone, before forcing himself to chill.


    I could smell the regret sweating off him. He was probably busy wishing he could time-travel five minutes back and unsay every stupid thing he had spat at Ashton.


    Finally, in a voice so stiff it could snap in half, Rhys muttered, ¡®Catherine made a... a mistake. She didn¡¯t mean to wreck the party. It was... an impulsivepse of judgement. Catherine, apologise to Mr... Laurent. Now.¡¯


    Catherine¡¯s eyes widened at Ashton¡¯s name. She stared at Rhys in disbelief, then at Ashton. Then, finally, like Rhys, she understood.


    Then she scrambled to throw out a million ¡®sorrys¡¯ in Ashton¡¯s direction.


    He cut her off, voice like a de: ¡®You¡¯re apologising to the wrong person.¡¯


    Catherine froze. Her gaze slid to me.


    Yeah. I was the one she needed to grovel to. And judging by her twisted face, she¡¯d rather eat ss than say sorry to me.


    ¡®I...¡¯ she stammered, the words choking in her throat.


    ¡®Looks like Miss Vance isn¡¯t exactly drowning in remorse,¡¯ Ashton said, shing a look at the doorway.


    Cue the bouncers. Two guys in ck suits stormed in and grabbed Catherine by both arms.


    She barely had time to blink before they started dragging her towards the staircase.


    ¡®Wait! I¡¯m sorry! I¡¯ll apologise! Mirabelle, I¡¯m sorry!¡¯ she howled, iling desperately.


    The guys didn¡¯t even slow down.


    Ashton watched her with all the emotion of a marble statue. ¡®Toote.¡¯


    ¡®Rhys! Help me!¡¯ Catherine shrieked, kicking her heels against the floor.


    Rhys twitched like he was about to sprint after her, but stopped dead when Ashton said, ¡®Walk out now, Mr Granger, and you make her cause yours. Your name on tonight¡¯s mess. And your name on the Laurent family¡¯s cklist. Is that what you want?¡¯


    ¡®No! I swear, I didn¡¯t know anything!¡¯ Rhys blurted.


    For a second, I thought he might still throw himself at the door.


    Instead, he just looked at Catherine¡ªscreaming, heels scraping over marble¡ªand then looked away.


    He had never looked so cowardly.


    Rhys shuffled over to Ashton, fake smile stretched so tight it looked painful. ¡®Mr Laurent, I actually came here tonight to discuss a potential deal with LGH. I¡¯d never dream of causing trouble at your party. If you might have a moment...?¡¯


    He was actually bowing. The desperation stank.


    Ashton didn¡¯t even look up. He lounged in the armchair, scrolling his phone like Rhys was background noise.


    The silent treatment hit harder than a p. Rhys¡¯s face was a shade of red I¡¯d never seen before.


    Finally, he gave up trying to talk business and leaned towards me instead, whispering, ¡®When did you meet Mr Laurent?¡¯


    I shrugged. ¡®That¡¯s none of your business. Now scram.¡¯


    His jaw ticked. ¡®Since you know Mr Laurent... maybe you could, you know, put in a good wordter? I¡¯ve got a project I want to pitch.¡¯


    I shot him a look. ¡®And what¡¯s that got to do with me?¡¯


    He reached for my hand. Tight enough to be annoying, not tight enough to leave a mark. ¡®Come on, even if we¡¯re broken up, we¡¯re still friends, right? We grew up together, after all. Besides, whether I marry you or your sister, we¡¯d still end up as family. Our interests align, don¡¯t you see?¡¯


    Sometimes the sheer stupidity of men is so overwhelming you have no choice but tough.


    I snorted right in his face.


    ¡®Rhys Granger, even if we were still together¡ªwhich, newssh, we¡¯re not¡ªyou think I¡¯d give a damn about your family¡¯s business? Our interests align? I don¡¯t see my name on yourpany¡¯s stock certificates. You lot could be rolling in gold bars and I still wouldn¡¯t see a penny. Why should I help you?¡¯


    Rhys opened his mouth, then thought better of it.


    Smart for once.


    I yanked my hand free and snatched a tissue off the table, scrubbing my wrist like I was wiping off a cockroach.


    His face twisted. It took him some moments before he found speech again.


    ¡®I know you¡¯re still pissed about... the fight,¡¯ he said, pretending to sound all reasonable. ¡®How about this? I¡¯m free tomorrow. I¡¯ll take you out shopping. Maybe pick a wedding dress.¡¯


    He nced at Ashton, then lowered his voice. ¡®The invites are already printed. The wedding¡¯s happening, Mira. You can kick and scream all you want, but it¡¯s not getting cancelled. Not till my mum... you know.¡¯


    I just stared at him.


    Apparently tired of talking to a brick wall, Rhys grabbed my arm and started dragging me towards the door. ¡®Let¡¯s talk outside.¡¯


    ¡®Stop.¡¯ Ashton looked up from his phone. ¡®Miss Vance is my guest. You can leave. She stays.¡¯


    Trantion: get lost, loser.

 Chapter 29 - 30 Repercussions

    <h4>Chapter 29: Chapter 30 Repercussions</h4>


    Rhys, shocker, actually took the hint and left.


    Silence dropped over the room like a heavy curtain.


    I knew Ashton had just gone full diator mode for me.


    Which was... weirdly touching, considering we were basically strangers who just happened to have a fake engagement contract and three awkward encounters under our belts.


    ¡®Thanks for that,¡¯ I mumbled.


    Ashton shrugged. ¡®Don¡¯t thank me. He was pissing me off.¡¯


    He stood up, gaze flicking to my wrist where Rhys¡¯s Neanderthal grip had left faint marks. He frowned.


    My phone started screaming.


    Caroline¡¯s name lit up the screen like a warning siren.


    Yeah, no thanks.


    I hit decline without blinking.


    Five secondster, the phone started ringing again. Persistent like a debt collector.


    Sighing, I stabbed the answer button and held it to my ear. ¡®What?¡¯


    I barely got the word out before a full-on banshee shriek exploded from the speaker.


    ¡®Mirabelle! How dare you hit your sister in front of everyone at the party?!¡¯


    Ah. Serenna or Catherine must have gone running to mummy dearest with their version of events.


    For a second, I thought about exining. Telling her how Serenna started it, how Catherine had been stirring the pot.


    But then... What was the point? Caroline would believe them over me if they told her the sky was green and pigs had started UberEats deliveries.


    So I stayed quiet, just holding the phone to my ear while she shouted, feeling absolutely nothing.


    ¡®Catherine¡¯s barely back in Skyline and trying to rejoin the social scene, and you humiliated her in front of everyone! She finally got an invite to a major party, and you wrecked it! There¡¯s video footage, Mira, video! It¡¯s everywhere! How do you expect us to save face now? How¡¯s the Granger family supposed to save face? If you¡¯ve got even a shred of decency left, you¡¯ll drag your arse home, apologise to Catherine, then haul yourself over to the Grangers and grovel. You wanna throw tantrums? Fine. But don¡¯t drag the rest of us down with you!¡¯


    I nced at my watch. She managed that two-minute rant without stopping to breathe. A personal best, even for her.


    It sounded like she¡¯d been waiting for an excuse to lose it on me, like this was her bigeback tour after thest time I refused to y ball.


    My phone wasn¡¯t even on speaker, but Ashton, sitting not five feet away, must have caught every word.


    The screaming from Caroline¡¯s end was still going strong when my screen lit up with another call.


    Aunt Louisa.


    I cut in mid-rant: ¡®Mum, you¡¯ve been talking for so long you must be parched. Go grab a water bottle before you croak. I¡¯ve got another call. Gotta run.¡¯


    Then I hung up.


    The phone started buzzing again. Louisa.


    I stared at it, jaw tight.


    Blowing off Rhys was easy.


    Louisa, not so much.


    She was in hospital recovering from a car ident that I was partially responsible for, and she¡¯d been nothing but kind to me my whole life.


    Birthday parties, scraped knees, family fights¡ªAunt Louisa had been there for all of it.


    She was probably calling because she¡¯d heard about the mess at the party. Everyone else had.


    And I had nothing for her. I didn¡¯t want to lie to her. And it wasn¡¯t my job to cover for her son¡¯s dumpster-fire love life.


    The screen went dark. Straight to voicemail.


    Ashton shifted next to me, looking like he wanted to say something.


    His phone went off before he could. He picked up.


    ¡®Got it,¡¯ he said after a minute, then hung up and looked at me.


    I frowned. ¡®What?¡¯


    ¡®That was my assistant. Louisa Granger just copsed at the hospital. They¡¯re trying to bring her round.¡¯


    I was on my feet before he finished. I looked at the door, then back at him, frozen for half a beat.


    Ashton didn¡¯t miss a thing. ¡®Let¡¯s go.¡¯


    ¡®But the party¡ª¡¯


    ¡®The guests can entertain themselves. They¡¯re grown-ups.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t argue. Just threw him a quick, grateful smile and we were off.


    Eldergrove Private loomed up like a ghost I really didn¡¯t want to meet again.


    Last time I¡¯d been here... yeah, not the best memory.


    I shoved it down and stormed inside, zeroing in on the nurses¡¯ station.


    A couple of barked directionster, I found Louisa¡¯s room.


    Willow Granger stood posted like a bouncer at the door, arms folded.


    Her dad, Clive Granger, was slumped on a chair to the side, staring at the floor.


    I walked straight up. ¡®Aunt Louisa, how is she?¡¯


    Willow turned. The second she clocked my face, her expression twisted like she¡¯d swallowed battery acid.


    She didn¡¯t say a word. She just swung.


    The p came fast and ugly, but not fast enough.


    I blocked it with my forearm, easy.


    Willow staggered back a step, surprised.


    I thought about pping her back. I really did.


    But punching Aunt Louisa¡¯s daughter right outside her hospital room felt like a touch too much, even for me.


    Willow hissed, voice shaking, ¡®You¡¯ve got some bloody nerve showing up here. What, trying to finish the job? Want to kill her for good this time?¡¯


    I folded my arms and stared her down. ¡®I¡¯m not here to swap insults. I asked a simple question.¡¯


    She wasn¡¯t listening.


    ¡®You trashed the Laurent party tonight so bad the videos are blowing up all over group chats. Everyone¡¯sughing at us, at the Grangers! And you¡¯re telling me you didn¡¯t mean it?¡¯ Her voice cracked sharp with fury. ¡®My mum treated you better than she treats me sometimes¡ªhell, she pretty much raised you like her own¡ªand this is how you pay her back?¡¯


    ssic Willow. She¡¯d hated my guts from day one. Thought I wasn¡¯t good enough for her big brother Rhys. Not rich enough. Not posh enough. Not educated enough.


    ording to her, the only thing I brought to the table was my looks.


    In her head, I was the stray puppy Rhys was too soft to kick. The hanger-on. The charity case.


    But Louisa had made her choice. She liked me. Loved me, even. Treated me like the daughter she probably wished Willow had been.


    And now Willow had all the ammo she needed to me me for Louisa¡¯s condition.


    She wasn¡¯t done, either.


    The first p had failed, so she reared back for a second.

 Chapter 30 - 31 Guilt-trip

    <h4>Chapter 30: Chapter 31 Guilt-trip</h4>


    I didn¡¯t even move. Something told me I didn¡¯t need to.


    Before her palm coulde down, a hand shot past my shoulder and mped down on her wrist, shoved her backwards.


    Willow stumbled, arms iling for bnce.


    Her head whipped up, ready to mouth off, but the second she clocked Ashton¡¯s face, she faltered.


    Hard to keep swinging when the guy pinning your arm looked like he could snap you in half for blinking wrong.


    She yanked her hand free with a pathetic little noise. ¡®And who the hell are you?¡¯ she barked. ¡®Why¡¯re you getting in the way? You...¡¯


    Her voice got quieter the longer Ashton stared her down.


    Willow shifted from foot to foot, tried to size him up, and then her eyes flicked to me, and to the jacket hanging off my shoulders. ¡®That¡¯s his coat, right? Your new boyfriend?¡¯


    She folded her arms, sneering. ¡®When did you start sneaking around behind my brother¡¯s back, huh? You bang on about Rhys cheating, but look at you! Wearing some random guy¡¯s jacket like a badge of honour.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t have to exin myself to you, Willow. You know damn well Rhys and I are over.¡¯


    She pped a hand at me like I was a bad smell. ¡®Save it. Get out.¡¯


    I nted my feet. ¡®I¡¯m staying till Aunt Louisa wakes up.¡¯


    Willow¡¯s face twisted. ¡®You¡¯re not wanted here!¡¯


    From the corner of my eye, I caught Clive Granger standing up from his chair. He took his sweet time covering the short distance between us.


    He was pissed too. No surprise there. In his head, I¡¯d practically murdered his wife.


    But at least he kept his loathing on a leash, unlike Willow.


    Clive stopped a few feet from me and said, all fake-polite, ¡®Louisa¡¯s sick because of you. You breaking off the engagement has really hurt her. Shocked her into a heart attack. I don¡¯t think she wants to see you when she wakes up. Best you leave now.¡¯


    I kept my chin up. ¡®Uncle Clive, whether she wants to see me or not is her decision. Not yours.¡¯


    His jaw twitched, just a little. Before he could spit something back, Ashton cut in, ¡®Mirabelle staying won¡¯t disturb anyone. She¡¯s worried about Mrs Granger¡¯s health. Let her stay till Mrs Granger wakes up.¡¯


    Clive¡¯s eyes sharpened. ¡®And you are?¡¯


    Ashton reached out, offering his hand. ¡®Ashton Laurent. Nice to meet you, Mr Granger.¡¯


    For a second, Clive just stared at Ashton¡¯s hand like it was a snake about to bite him. Then he shook it hesitatingly. ¡®Mr... Mr Laurent... Um, thank you foring. I appreciate your concern, but...¡¯ He nced at me. ¡®You may now know the full story here. It¡¯splicated. Mirabelle¡ª¡¯


    ¡®I know enough,¡¯ Ashton cut him off. ¡®I was at the party too. I saw everything. Mirabelle and Rhys Granger have been done for a while. Besides, Rhys showed up tonight shing a new girlfriend like a trophy. Mirabelle asking to end the engagement was the polite part. She didn¡¯t even say half of what she could¡¯ve. Honestly, she gave Rhys and the whole Granger family a hell of a lot more dignity than they deserved.¡¯


    Clive looked like he was about to argue, but Ashton just kept going.


    ¡®It¡¯s the twenty-first century. Are the Grangers still ying medieval lord and vassal? Treating Mirabelle like she¡¯s some mail-order bride? Or maybe Rhys thinks he¡¯s got royal blood, getting engaged to Mira while juggling a side chick? What¡¯s next, a crown and a sceptre?¡¯


    I could¡¯ve kissed Ashton right there. Maybe even married him.


    Clive¡¯s face went from tired to full-on corpse grey. ¡®It¡¯s not that she can¡¯t break it off,¡¯ he mumbled. ¡®But... Rhys... he¡¯s just made a mistake, is all. But that doesn¡¯t mean Mirabelle should¡¯ve broken off the engagement so rashly. Especially not in public like that. Marriage isn¡¯t a joke. Louisa was¡¯¡ªhe nced at me with something halfway between guilt and usation¡ª¡®very shocked. And sad.¡¯


    I took a step forward, but Ashton gave my arm a soothing pat.


    ¡®You¡¯re right. Marriage isn¡¯t a joke. That¡¯s exactly why Mirabelle ended it when she realised Rhys wasn¡¯t taking it seriously. He vited the whole point of it by parading around another woman while he imed to be still engaged to Mirabelle.¡¯


    Clive¡¯s mouth opened, but Ashton continued before he could get a word in.


    ¡®If infidelity isn¡¯t a strong enough reason to call off an engagement, what is?¡¯


    The room felt like it was holding its breath.


    ¡®And what are you suggesting, Mr Granger? That Mirabelle should¡¯ve smiled, swallowed it, and walked down the aisle anyway? Sacrificed her happiness just to keep you and your wife from losing face? What do you take her for¡ªa tool to polish up your family image?¡¯


    Clive flinched, but Ashton wasn¡¯t done.


    ¡®And ming your wife¡¯s heart attack on her? That¡¯s low. Guilt-tripping her into resuming the engagement? Even lower.¡¯


    Clive¡¯s mouth worked soundlessly for a second. He looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor.


    ¡®I... You¡¯re right,¡¯ he finally muttered. ¡®It¡¯s not Mirabelle¡¯s fault.¡¯


    ¡®Then maybe ease up on your attitude. From where I¡¯m standing, you lot areing off petty and downright unreasonable.¡¯


    Clive noddedmely. ¡®Yes, yes, we were... too hasty. If Mirabelle wants to stay and wait for Louisa to wake up, she¡¯s wee to.¡¯


    Just like that, the tension cracked and fizzled out.


    We ended up sitting around outside the operating theatre, all awkward and chilly.


    I sat on one end, Willow and Clive huddled at the other, the gap between us wider than a fourne.


    I owed Ashton a lot. Words like ¡®thank you¡¯ feltme and stic, so I swallowed them down.


    Ashton hadn¡¯t been gone five minutes before he came striding back, a paper bag dangling from his hand.


    He stopped in front of me, pulled out a cup of coffee, and handed it over. ¡®It¡¯s cold tonight. Better to have something warm to hold onto.¡¯


    I took it, the heat seeping into my frozen fingers. ¡®Thanks.¡¯


    Then he bent down and fished out a pair of fluffy slippers from the same bag, dropping them neatly at my feet.


    He nodded at me, like, go on then.

 Chapter 31 - 32 Velvet Glove

    <h4>Chapter 31: Chapter 32 Velvet Glove</h4>


    I blinked at him,pletely thrown off my game for a second, then kicked off my heels and shoved my feet into the slippers. I didn¡¯t even realise my feet were hurting till then.


    The soft fleece wrapped around my toes, warmth creeping up my legs and coiling somewhere stupid in my chest. My heart was punching against my ribs like it was trying to make a jailbreak.


    Ashton tossed a massive nket over myp, covering my flimsy dress.


    He leaned in slightly. ¡®If you need anything, shout. I¡¯m just taking a call over there.¡¯


    Then he disappeared towards the stairwell.


    Willow and Clive Granger kept throwing side-eyes my way, their faces flickering between curiosity, doubt, and full-blown suspicion like a glitchy mood carousel.


    I ignored them and watched Ashton through the ss as he leaned against the stairwell wall, lighting a cigarette while he talked on the phone.


    Every few seconds, he¡¯d tilt his head and nce my way. Like he was making sure I was still breathing. Like he was staying put for me.


    By the time the sky outside started to lighten to a miserable grey, the door to the operating theatre finally slid open.


    A surgeon walked out, pulling off his gloves. ¡®The patient¡¯s stable. We¡¯re moving her to a regr ward. She might wake up in a few hours, but be careful¡ªno more shocks, no upsetting news.¡¯


    A team of nurses wheeled Louisa past us, still unconscious, still pale as hell.


    I followed, only to get body-blocked by Willow at the door.


    ¡®You¡¯re kidding,¡¯ I muttered under my breath, but she was already pretending I did not exist.


    I ended up lurking outside the ward. Not exactly my finest moment, but I wasn¡¯t going to take the doctor¡¯s warning lightly.


    A few minutester, Rhys stormed in with Catherine. Both were still in party clothes and looked like they had sprinted all the way here.


    Rhys caught sight of me and, of course, went straight for the jugr.


    ¡®My mum¡¯s unconscious because of you. Happy now, Mira? If you¡¯ve got a problem, you take it out on me. What the hell are you ying at, kicking off at her?¡¯


    I opened my mouth, ready to tell him exactly where he could shove his self-righteous attitude, but he had already bulldozed past me into the room.


    From inside, I heard Willow¡¯s whine: ¡®Mum, she¡¯s already sent you to the hospital twice! You sure you want to let her do it again?¡¯


    I heard her muttering something else, too low to hear.


    Then she popped her head out, scowling like it physically hurt her to speak to me. ¡®Mum says you cane in.¡¯


    I shoved past her before she could change her mind.


    As soon as I reached the bed, Louisa lifted her hand towards me. She looked weak as hell, pale and small under the nkets, but her grip was fierce when she grabbed mine.


    ¡®This isn¡¯t your fault, sweetheart. Don¡¯t you dare me yourself. I just lost my head for a second and my old heart didn¡¯t handle it too well, that¡¯s all.¡¯


    ¡®Aunt Louisa...¡¯ I choked out. Next thing I knew, fat, humiliating tears were spilling down my face.


    Louisa turned to re at everyone else crammed into the room.


    ¡®And don¡¯t you lot start ming Mirabelle either. If anyone¡¯s to me, it¡¯s Rhys. If he hadn¡¯t been out screwing around, Mira wouldn¡¯t have been put through half this shit.¡¯


    She shot a death re at Catherine, who quickly dove behind Rhys.


    Louisa¡¯s eyes swung back to me. ¡®Mirabelle, I know Rhys hurt you, but you¡¯ve loved him since you were little. You told me yourself that marrying him has always been your dream. You are like a daughter to me. I don¡¯t want to see you left with no one to lean on. Especially with... your family situation...¡¯ She let out a heavy sigh. ¡®If you break off the engagement, where are you going to find a better future?¡¯


    If it had been literally anyone else running that script, I would¡¯ve shut it down in two seconds t. Told them I didn¡¯t need Rhys to survive. Told them my love life was none of their damn business.


    But Louisa was different.


    She wasn¡¯t scheming. She wasn¡¯t ying me. She meant every word, and that made my throat jam up like rush hour traffic.


    I¡¯d always been the type to bite back when someone pushed. But if someone pulled, spoke soft, held my hand like I was made of ss? I melted into a bloody puddle.


    So when she clutched my hand tighter and begged, ¡®Please, for my sake, don¡¯t call off the wedding,¡¯ all I could do was stand there, useless, swallowing everything I wanted to say.


    When Louisa drifted back to sleep, I finally peeled myself away and slipped out.


    I still felt guilty as hell, but not guilty enough to throw myself back into Rhys¡¯s arms like a lobotomised Disney princess.


    I had barely made it five steps when Catherine ambushed me in the stairwell.


    No audience now. No fake smiles. Just full-blown venom in her eyes.


    She sneered, ¡®You really are something. Using other people to force Rhys¡¯s hand.¡¯


    I tilted my head, sizing her up. It took me a second to piece it together. She thought I had used Louisa¡¯s health to screw with Rhys.


    My eyes narrowed. ¡®You think I made Aunt Louisa sick on purpose?¡¯


    Catherine snorted. ¡®Isn¡¯t that exactly what you did? Or maybe you and Aunt Louisa cooked up some soap opera plot to force Rhys into marrying you.¡¯


    I stared at her. ¡®You actually believe Aunt Louisa faked a hospital trip just to marry me off to Rhys?¡¯


    Catherine didn¡¯t answer. She just smiled that smug little smile that made me want to smack the lip gloss off her face.


    I sighed. ¡®In case you forgot: I¡¯m the one trying to cancel the bloody engagement. I¡¯d be thrilled if Rhys pped a ring on your finger tomorrow. Hell, I¡¯ll even buy the champagne.¡¯

 Chapter 32 - 33 Legally Binding

    <h4>Chapter 32: Chapter 33 Legally Binding</h4>


    Of course she didn¡¯t believe me.


    Catherine crossed her arms. ¡®All just your tricks. You say you want out, but you¡¯re clinging to him every chance you get. Now that he¡¯s finally interested in me, you¡¯re pulling stunts to drag him back.¡¯


    I wanted to throw up my arms like a cartoon character. It was like talking to a wall.


    ¡®Catherine,¡¯ I said, gritting my teeth, ¡®Rhys isn¡¯t refusing to end it because he¡¯s still obsessed with me. He¡¯s doing it because he¡¯s terrified of what the tabloids will say. He¡¯s doing it because he¡¯s too much of a coward to tell his mummy no. The same goes for you. You¡¯reing at me because you¡¯re too scared to pick a fight with Rhys or Louisa. You two really are a match made in dysfunctional heaven.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s not like that! Rhys is just worried about his mum¡¯s health. That¡¯s why he won¡¯t end things yet.¡¯


    ¡®Right. And you, standing here hissing at me to tell Louisa about your little love story with Rhys¡ªmeans you¡¯re obviously not worried about her health at all, right? Or are you secretly praying I piss her off so badly she ends up back in hospital¡ªor, better yet, kicks the bucket¡ªso I¡¯ll be too busy being the viin to hang onto Rhys, and you can swoop in without her giving you side-eye?¡¯


    ¡®I... no, it¡¯s not... I don¡¯t¡ª¡¯


    I shook my head. ¡®You really should take up chess. You¡¯ve got the scheming down cold.¡¯


    The sh of panic in her eyes was so fast most people would¡¯ve missed it. I didn¡¯t.


    I leaned in a little and got into her personal space. ¡®If you¡¯ve got that much energy, maybe aim it at Rhys instead of me. Whisper sweet nothings to him, y your cards right. Hell, if you can get him to ditch me officially, I¡¯ll owe you a drink. But even if he dumps me, don¡¯t get your hopes up. Rhys Granger might be a lot of things, but easy isn¡¯t one of them.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t wait for hereback. Just brushed past her and left.


    Outside the hospital, I pulled my borrowed coat tighter against the morning chill and tried to g a taxi.


    A sleek ck Cayenne rolled up to the kerb.


    Window down. Ashton¡¯s face appeared. ¡®Get in. I¡¯ll drive you home.¡¯


    For a second, I just blinked at him. I thought he¡¯d left ages ago.


    I shook my head. ¡®It¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll grab a cab.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s too early. You¡¯re not getting a cab here. I¡¯m headed back to Oakwood Apartments anyway. Might as well give you a lift.¡¯


    I hesitated a beat, then nodded. ¡®Thanks.¡¯


    I slid into the front seat.


    The bag in myp felt ridiculously heavy. Inside were my heels and a nket, reminders of what he¡¯d done for me without me even asking.


    Reminders of the fact that Ashton was being too nice. Way too nice.


    Nicer than our little contract arrangement called for.


    And I had no bloody clue why.


    We drove in silence for a few minutes before he broke it. ¡®Mrs Granger doing alright?¡¯


    I nodded, fighting off a yawn. ¡®Yeah. Doctor says she can be discharged in a few days.¡¯


    ¡®So... Mrs Granger still won¡¯t let you call off the engagement?¡¯


    My eyes snapped open. ¡®You¡¯ve been eavesdropping?¡¯


    ¡®The door to her room was open. I was just passing by.¡¯


    ¡®For such a busy man, you sure spend a lot of time passing by ces.¡¯


    He shrugged. ¡®You don¡¯t want to upset Mrs Granger. What¡¯s your n now?¡¯


    I flicked my eyes up and caught his face in the rear-view mirror. Sharp jaw, unreadable expression. He wasn¡¯t even looking at me, but somehow I still felt cornered.


    n? The engagement was already off as far as I was concerned. Rhys just wouldn¡¯t let go, and Louisa was clinging to the fantasy.


    It was my turn to shrug. ¡®No idea. I¡¯m winging it.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t you find it troublesome to have to keep dealing with this issue?¡¯


    I sighed. ¡®Yeah. It is.¡¯


    We hit a red light. The silence stretched. Then he turned to look at me, full-on. ¡®I¡¯ve got a way to fix it.¡¯


    ¡®What kind of way?¡¯


    The light turned green.


    He hit the elerator and said, ¡®Marry me. Like I said before.¡¯


    Silence. Dead, awkward, what-the-hell silence.


    He said it again, like he was offering me a lift and not flipping my life upside down. ¡®Marry me. It¡¯s your best option.¡¯


    ¡®Um...¡¯ was the best reply I coulde up with.


    When I¡¯d roped Ashton into fake-fianc¨¦ duty, it was pure survival mode. I¡¯d figured he was doing it to get his parents off his back¡ªjust like I was.


    But now he looked deadly serious. Like he¡¯d always meant to turn our make-believe into a legally binding situation.


    ¡®Why?¡¯ I finally managed. Because honestly, what else do you even say to that?


    ¡®Mrs Granger doesn¡¯t actually care if you marry Rhys. What bothers her is the idea of you being alone, with no one dependable in your corner. She thinks your family¡¯s useless.¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯s not wrong,¡¯ I muttered.


    He kept going like he¡¯d been rehearsing. ¡®If you had someone solid, someone she could trust to have your back, she¡¯d let it go. The Rhys matchmaking, the passive-aggressive guilt trips, all of it. And if you married me... that would tick every box.¡¯


    I stared at him. Anyone else saying ¡®marry me, I¡¯m your best option¡¯ would¡¯ve sounded like a narcissist with a Godplex.


    But Ashton just made it sound like he was stating facts.


    ¡®The Grangers seem the type to hold a grudge. Even if you manage to call off the engagement, no one in Skyline¡¯s gonna want to piss them off by marrying you. No one but me. I don¡¯t care what the Grangers think. They wouldn¡¯t dare cross me. If I¡¯m the one standing next to you, Mrs Granger can finally give up.¡¯


    He paused, then pre-emptively addressed my unspoken objection as if he¡¯d already anticipated it.


    ¡®If she¡¯s not stupid, she¡¯ll know I¡¯m ten times the man her son will ever be.¡¯

 Chapter 33 - 34 Not A Charade

    <h4>Chapter 33: Chapter 34 Not A Charade</h4>


    Silence.


    Annoyingly persuasive silence.


    I hated how tempted I was.


    Rhys Granger used to be the guy every woman in Skyline had on her dream board. Me included, back when I didn¡¯t know he was a full-time bastard. Catherine, Serenna¡ªhell, we were all drunk on the fantasy.


    But now Ashton Laurent was the real obsession. Not just thest name¡ªthough, yeah, being a Laurent definitely opened doors¡ªbut the man himself. The brains, the backbone, the unnerving calm.


    Marrying him would be the ultimate power move.


    And unlike the other preening, entitled bachelors, he actually acted like a decent human being. Every time we¡¯d crossed paths, he¡¯d been polite, respectful.


    Which made him even more dangerous.


    Honestly, if I had to pick someone out of everyone I knew, he was the safest bet by a mile.


    But that was the bit that didn¡¯t make sense.


    We¡¯d barely seen each other. A few run-ins, some short conversations, and, yes, one wild night together.


    But nothing remotely close to ¡®hey, let¡¯s ruin our lives together¡¯ territory.


    So why the hell was he offering to marry me like it was no big deal?


    He could have anyone. Literally anyone. There were women in Skyline who¡¯d trample their own sisters to get his number.


    What did I have that made me wife material in Ashton Laurent¡¯s billionaire brain?


    I looked at him. Straight up asked, ¡®Why me?¡¯


    ¡®It doesn¡¯t have to be a permanent situation. If things don¡¯t work out, we can split after a year.¡¯


    I narrowed my eyes. ¡®That¡¯s not what I asked. I said¡ªwhy me?¡¯


    His mouth curled slightly. ¡®Doesn¡¯t have to be you. You¡¯re right, I¡¯ve got options, and I¡¯m guessing you do too. But out of all the people we could¡¯ve dragged into a pretend marriage, I¡¯m still your best pick. That¡¯s why you came to me in the first ce, yes?¡¯


    ¡®Yes,¡¯ I said reluctantly.


    ¡®Miss Vance, I¡¯m not ying house. This wouldn¡¯t be some cutesy charade. It¡¯d be a real, legal marriage. With paperwork. With rings. You¡¯d have a marriage certificate and a title that means something. And with that, you can tell Mrs Granger to back off, and your family to shove their matchmaking ns. You¡¯d finally have the upper hand.¡¯


    He paused just long enough to make it clear he wasn¡¯t bluffing. ¡®Think about it.¡¯


    ***


    I had no clue how I made it back to Oakwood Apartments.


    At some point, Ashton had deposited me at my doorstep, then headed back to the office like he didn¡¯t need sleep.


    I unlocked my door, stumbled to the sofa, and flopped down.


    His words wouldn¡¯t stop reying.


    ¡®Marry me.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m your best option.¡¯


    Iy there, staring into nothing, trying to digest the world¡¯s weirdest proposal.


    Marriage. Real marriage. Not the fake kind. This was legit, legal, and terrifying.


    Even if we were just putting on a show for our families, it¡¯d still be a show with contracts and paperwork and probably a joint tax return.


    He needed a buffer from his family. I needed to shut down Louisa and her delusions. Fine. Strategic partnership, one-year term, no sex, no drama. Easy, right?


    I told myself it was fine. Totally fine. Very normal to consider marrying a man I barely knew just to get my life back.


    It didn¡¯t help that my brain had turned into a courtroom. One tinywyer-me was screaming ¡®Run!¡¯, the other one was already drawing up the prenup.


    They bickered so loud in my head I thought I might throw something.


    Iy sprawled like a zombie for a bit, then gave up trying to think and stumbled into the shower.


    Two minutester I was face-nted in bed, lights still on, hair still damp, consciousness entirely gone.


    By the time I got to Nyx Collective the next morning, I looked semi-human. Barely.


    A whole flock of interns had formed a human shrine around Violet Lin, who was basking in the attention and waving her hands around.


    ¡®The Laurent party was insane. I swear, the road was lined with luxury cars. Only the cr¨¨me de cr¨¨me of Skyline City even got through the gates... Obviously, I was on the guest list. Oh, and I talked to the heir, you know, the one who just got back from overseas? He¡¯s hotter than any actor. I mean, movie-star jawline, a killer bod. You get it.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t get it. Or care.


    I swerved around the Violet fan club and beelined straight for my desk.


    The second she clocked me, her whole vibe shifted. Her smile twitched. She continued her story but kept ncing over at me like I might jump up and shout ¡®You lie!¡¯ any moment.


    When I didn¡¯t say anything, she rxed. Her shoulders dropped, her voice got louder, and the fake stories flowed like boxed wine at an office party.


    I tried sketching. Five design drafts, all garbage. I gave up after I realised draft six looked suspiciously like Ashton¡¯s face and headed for the break room, hunting caffeine.


    But his voice followed me there like a persistent ghost.


    ¡®Marry me.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m your best option.¡¯


    I blinked and realised the water dispenser was overflowing. I fumbled to switch it off before the flood reached my shoes.


    ¡®What¡¯s got you so spaced out?¡¯


    I jumped. Nearlyunched the bloody cup across the room.


    Violet was leaning against the door jamb.


    She clicked her tongue. ¡®Seriously? It was an innocent question. You look like you just got caught burying a body. You up to something shady?¡¯


    I didn¡¯t answer. Just grabbed some napkins, wiped down the counter, and headed for the door.


    ¡®Stop!¡¯ Violet blocked my path. ¡®Didn¡¯t you hear me talking to you?¡¯


    ¡®There¡¯s nothing to talk about.¡¯ I didn¡¯t even slow down.


    Our mutual fake-nice era was very much over, and I wasn¡¯t interested in reruns.


    But she stepped in front of me again and hissed in a low voice, ¡®You¡¯d better keep what happened at the Laurent party to yourself. Don¡¯t go running your mouth to the others, got it?¡¯

 Chapter 34 - 35 Corporate Robot

    <h4>Chapter 34: Chapter 35 Corporate Robot</h4>


    I looked at her. ¡®You do realise I wasn¡¯t the only one at that party? Even if I say nothing, other people talk.¡¯


    ¡®Except you and me, no one else from Nyx was at that party. They don¡¯t run in that crowd. If you keep quiet, no one here needs to know a thing.¡¯


    ¡®Rx. I¡¯ve got better things to do than rehash your embarrassing five minutes of fame.¡¯


    I made another attempt to leave, but Violet clearly wasn¡¯t done with her one-woman paranoia parade.


    ¡®As long as you don¡¯t tell anyone I nicked the prototype, I won¡¯t show anyone that little video of you going full WWE at the party. Fair?¡¯


    Oh. So we were doing ckmail now. Fun.


    I stared her down. ¡®You think I care if they find out I threw a punch?¡¯


    Yes, some people at Nyx liked me. Yes, I had work friends.


    But they weren¡¯t ride-or-dies, more like Monday-to-Friday lunch pals.


    ¡®Go ahead and tell whoever you want. I¡¯m not the one who stole from thepany.¡¯


    Violet¡¯s mouth twisted. ¡®Of course you care. You looked like a lunatic, and I¡¯ve got it on video. You were way more embarrassing than I was.¡¯


    ¡®So what¡¯s the n, Violet?¡¯


    ¡®There is no n. Just keep your mouth shut, and I¡¯ll keep mine.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m hardly one for break-room gossip, and frankly, you¡¯re not interesting enough for me to spread rumours about.¡¯


    She rxed fractionally. ¡®Good.¡¯


    ¡®But...¡¯


    ¡®But what?¡¯


    ¡®But you stealing that ne from the showroom is not just gossip fodder. It¡¯s career suicide. If Savannah finds out, you won¡¯t just be unemployed, you¡¯ll be cklisted in the entire industry.¡¯


    Her whole face twitched. ¡®I put it back! No one at Nyx knows, and they won¡¯t¡ªunless you tell them!¡¯


    I raised a brow. ¡®You do know Savannah has ess to the surveince tapes, right? And that she reviews them periodically? If she spots you on her own, that¡¯s on you. Not me.¡¯


    The colour drained from her face so fast I thought she might faint. I could practically see the maths happening behind her eyes¡ªtrying to figure out how to wipe the footage before Savannah got curious.


    A few minutester, Savannah¡¯s assistant popped her head in and asked me to head to her office.


    Violet got summoned too. She walked in like she was headed to her own execution, all pale lips and shaky breath, clearly convinced I¡¯d already tattled.


    But Savannah didn¡¯t mention the ne. Not even a side-eye. Instead, sheunched into business.


    ¡®Eliza ck¡¯s been getting dragged online for weeks. Looks like it only made her dig her heels in, because she wants a full custom set from Nyx Collective, something unique to wear at the Cannes Film Festival next month. If she stuns, we ride the wave andunch the new luxe line off the back of it.¡¯


    Savannah paused long enough for the weight of it to settle.


    ¡®Anyone who wants to can submit designs. Whoever she picks leads the project,¡¯ she said. ¡®It¡¯s our shot. Don¡¯t mess it up.¡¯


    Violet was bouncing. ¡®I¡¯ll make sure she loves my work!¡¯


    Of course she would. She¡¯d been quietly stewing ever since I beat her out for thestmission.


    If Eliza showed up to Cannes dripping in one of Violet¡¯s designs, she¡¯d be waving her victory banner all over the Nyx group chat.


    I gave a more measured nod. ¡®I¡¯ll be ready.¡¯


    The second I stepped out of Savannah¡¯s office, my phone buzzed.


    I ignored Violet¡¯s taunting looks and checked out the message:


    ¡®Your dry cleaning is ready for pick-up.¡¯


    Right. Almost forgot.


    I¡¯d worn Ashton¡¯s jacket home yesterday after he lent it to me at the hospital.


    I was going to hand-wash it at first, but one touch and I chickened out.


    That thing felt more expensive than my entire wardrobe.


    Definitely custom.


    Definitely something that would disintegrate if I got anywhere near it with soap.


    So I took it to the fancy dry cleaner on 5th instead.


    After work, I headed straight there to pick it up.


    On the way back, I passed the bakery near the corner and grabbed a few cupcakes.


    Figured I might as well soften the awkwardness of returning a man¡¯s jacket with sugar.


    I got to Oakwood Apartments and stood in front of Ashton¡¯s door.


    My heart was doing its own little cardio ss.


    I knocked.


    Waited.


    Knocked again.


    Nothing.


    Of course he wasn¡¯t home.


    He probably only slept two hours a day and worked hundred-hour weeks.


    Still, I stood there for a beat longer than I meant to, weirdly disappointed.


    Back in my t, I messaged him: When will you be back at Oakwood? I¡¯ve got your jacket.


    I stared at the screen for two minutes.


    No reply.


    I ate dinner.


    Watched an entire episode of The Infernal Housewives of Skyline City.


    Still nothing.


    Not even a blue tick.


    Maybe he didn¡¯t give a damn about the jacket.


    Maybe once someone else touched it, it was dead to him.


    Like one of those weirdos who won¡¯t rewear socks if they¡¯ve been washed by someone else.


    It was nearly ten.


    I¡¯d showered, blow-dried my hair, thered on night cream, and was just about to go to bed when my phone finally buzzed.


    Ashton: I won¡¯t be back at Oakwood any time soon. Bring it to Laurent Global Holdings headquarters tomorrow.


    No ¡®please¡¯. No ¡®thanks¡¯.


    Just a straight-up instruction like I was one of his interns.


    I typed back: Got it.


    Didn¡¯t add a smiley.


    He didn¡¯t deserve one.


    His message had the warmth of a parking ticket.


    Maybe this was the real Ashton Laurent¡ªzero charm, full corporate robot.


    I was about to put my phone away when it rang.


    Unknown number.


    Could¡¯ve been a scam call.


    More likely Rhys Granger again.


    I hung up instantly and blocked the number.


    Next morning, I took half a day off just to drop the damn jacket off at Laurent Global Holdings.

 Chapter 35 - 36 Not A Date

    <h4>Chapter 35: Chapter 36 Not A Date</h4>


    The building sat like a smug, ss monolith right in the middle of downtown, prime real estate with a reflective metal fa?ade that shed sunlight in every direction like it was trying to blind the poor.


    Sixty-eight floors of money.


    It towered over everything like it knew it owned the skyline.


    LGH didn¡¯t just deal in real estate and finance.


    They had fingers in every pie¡ªtech, hospitality, tourism, you name it.


    If it generated ie, they were knee-deep in it.


    The ce was also a hotspot for influencers and wannabe TikTok stars.


    I¡¯d passed it loads of times and seen people doing twirls or filming dance routines right outside the entrance.


    I¡¯d never actually gone in.


    Inside, it was all clean lines, matte finishes, and subtle flexes of wealth.


    Like, ¡®Yes, this chair costs more than your car, but we won¡¯t mention it.¡¯


    You couldn¡¯t get past the lobby without clearance.


    Which meant I was promptly intercepted by the front desk, where a girl with perfect eyeliner looked me up and down like I¡¯d shown up to a Met G in Crocs.


    ¡®You can¡¯t go upstairs without an appointment,¡¯ she said, smiling the way dentists do before drilling a nerve. ¡®Mr Laurent gets swamped with requests every day. His calendar¡¯s booked out months in advance.¡¯


    She gave me another once-over.


    I could tell exactly what she was thinking¡ªhere¡¯s another one, trying tond a billionaire with a fresh blowout and a hopeful bra.


    Joke¡¯s on her. I hadn¡¯t even bothered with mascara.


    ¡®Maybee back in three months,¡¯ she suggested, this time with a sprinkle of pity.


    I didn¡¯t argue.


    There was no point.


    I found a seat in the lobby¡¯s visitor zone and texted him: I¡¯m at LGH. Can I leave the jacket at reception?


    Ten minutes ticked by.


    Then five more.


    By the time the reply came, I was seconds away from hurling the jacket at the nearest bin and calling it a day.


    Ashton: Contact Dominic Everett, my assistant.


    He pushed a phone number.


    No exnation.


    No ¡®thanks¡¯.


    I stared at the message, already pissed.


    All this hassle for one stupid jacket.


    First I had to take time off.


    Then I got treated like a groupie or wannabe gold-digger.


    Now I had to track down his assistant like I was hand-delivering the Ark of the Covenant?


    God, I was such a mug.


    All this effort for a guy who texted like a contract use.


    Still, I¡¯d alreadye this far.


    Might as well follow through and avoid the karmic curse of unfinished favours.


    I called the number.


    Not five minutester, the lift dinged and out walked a man¡ªtall, sharp suit, not a hair out of ce.


    He moved like he had three meetings and a merger deal waiting, but still smiled when he reached me.


    ¡®Thanks foring all this way, Miss Vance. I¡¯ll take the jacket from here.¡¯


    At least someone here had manners.


    I handed it over, then asked, mostly to make conversation, ¡®Is your boss in a meeting?¡¯


    Dominic blinked. ¡®Mr Laurent didn¡¯te in today. No meetings. He¡¯s... on a date.¡¯


    ¡®A date?¡¯ The word just jumped out. ¡®With who?¡¯


    Dominic nced around.


    He looked like a kid sitting on a Christmas secret.


    Clearly dying to spill, but also shackled by his corporate leash.


    I just stared at him.


    Waited.


    Eventually, the leash snapped.


    ¡®Octavia Grey,¡¯ he whispered, like it was ssified intel. ¡®She¡¯s been after our boss for ages.¡¯


    I blinked.


    Octavia Grey.


    The hottest A-lister on the right now.


    She just snagged the biggest film award in the country for some critically acimed indie drama.


    You couldn¡¯t open your phone without her face popping up¡ªred carpets, interviews, aesthetic brunch pics.


    She had that lethalbo of fame, talent, and bone structure.


    But I¡¯d seen her in clips¡ªshe was the definition of icy-hot.


    Always looked like she¡¯d sooner roll her eyes than flirt.


    And now she was chasing Ashton Laurent?


    While I was trying to process the mental image of those two breathing the same air, Dominic dropped another bomb.


    ¡®Miss Vance, I¡¯m sure you know, um, our boss is in a rush to get married.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t know whether tough or wince.


    The fact that even Ashton¡¯s assistant was openly discussing his desperation to tie the knot made my brain glitch.


    I said, ¡®Yeah, I know.¡¯


    Ashton had said he wanted me to think about his little marriage proposal.


    But from the looks of things, I wasn¡¯t the only one with a spot on the shortlist.


    If I said no, maybe he¡¯d be signing marriage papers with Octavia Grey by tomorrow.


    The man wasn¡¯t kidding about being in a rush.


    It was a business deal for him, obviously.


    He probably thought any warm body would do.


    But was it the same for me?


    If I said no to him, would I also have options?


    Technically, yes.


    There was Rhys, with Louisa¡¯s blessing, and Leonard Something my mother tried to set me up with.


    Last night, I blocked Rhys.


    Felt amazing for about seven hours.


    Then this morning, he called me from two different numbers like a desperate Tinder ghost who couldn¡¯t take a hint.


    And my mother had been blowing up my phone too.


    I didn¡¯t even need to pick up to know what she¡¯d say.


    Looking at it now, marriage with Ashton might actually be the smartest move I could make, and possibly the only move, short of moving away and changing my name.


    Dominic spoke again.


    ¡®Please excuse my being so direct, but I¡¯ve worked with Mr Laurent for years and, trust me, he¡¯s not into those celebrity types. You¡¯re the one he¡¯s most satisfied with, Miss Vance. You should really consider your position.¡¯


    ¡®Right.¡¯ I nodded. ¡®I¡¯ll think about it.¡¯

 Chapter 36 - 37 Ashton’s POV: Pressure Game

    <h4>Chapter 36: Chapter 37 Ashton¡¯s POV: Pressure Game</h4>


    Dominic waited until Mirabelle Vance disappeared down the street before heading back in, theundry bag dangling from his arm.


    At the front desk, one of the reception girls stopped him.


    ¡®Dom, who was that just now?¡¯


    She was trying to y it casual, but he could see the regret all over her face.


    She¡¯d clearly clocked Mirabelle as some nobody earlier and now wanted a do-over.


    ¡®She didn¡¯t give her name. Is she really here to see the big boss? Howe she doesn¡¯t have an appointment? I thought¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Stop asking so many questions,¡¯ Dominic said, barely slowing down. ¡®Next time she shows up, don¡¯t make her wait. Let her through straightaway. Got it?¡¯


    The girl swallowed. ¡®Y-yeah. Got it.¡¯


    Dominic hit the lift and rode up to the sixty-eighth floor, where the C-suite had their offices.


    His boss was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his back to him.


    Dominic wasn¡¯t sure if he was watching the skyline or tracking Mirabelle¡¯s movement.


    He ced theundry bag on a nearby coffee table.


    ¡®Boss. I said everything you told me to. Dropped enough pressure on her to make her nervous. She¡¯s definitely thinking now.¡¯


    Ashton didn¡¯t turn around.


    ¡®Good.¡¯


    His voice was calm, but his eyes had that look again¡ªsharp, locked in, like he was already nning how to corner her next.


    His personal phone lit up.


    Dominic checked the caller ID. ¡®Boss, it¡¯s your father.¡¯


    Ashton turned around, took the phone and answered, ¡®What.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s exactly what I want to ask,¡¯ Reginald snapped. ¡®You walked out of your own damn party. The one meant to introduce you to every major yer in Skyline. Half the city¡¯s still buzzing about it. You realise the media¡¯s gone feral?¡¯


    ¡®Not my problem.¡¯ Ashton leaned back against the ss, fingers drumming on the window ledge.


    ¡®You¡¯re LGH¡¯s CEO. Every damn twitch you make rattles our stock. I happen to own some of it, you know. This affects me, too.¡¯


    ¡®Then maybe diversify.¡¯


    Reginald ignored that. ¡®They¡¯re saying you copsed. Or that LGH¡¯s sinking and you¡¯ve fled the wheel. I haven¡¯t slept since. Been running PR interference, trying to p a gag order on some of the more outrageous stories floating out there. You know, you could¡¯ve given me a heads-up before pulling a vanishing act.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t owe anyone an exnation. Least of all the jackals circling for a quote. The people who mattered got a call.¡¯


    ¡®Some of those ¡°jackals¡± are long-time partners. Investors. Businessmen who flew in from three time zones away to shake your hand. They were left with hors d¡¯oeuvres and no heir in sight. Do you think that¡¯s good for business?¡¯


    ¡®They¡¯ll live. And if they want to keep doing business with LGH, they¡¯ll get over it. Let¡¯s not pretend the economy¡¯s doing great. We¡¯re thest ship worth boarding. They need us more than we need them.¡¯


    Silence reigned.


    Then Reginald tried a new angle. ¡®Fine. You handle the business. But what about the girl?¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s jaw ticked. ¡®What about her.¡¯


    ¡®The one you said we¡¯d meet but didn¡¯t. What am I supposed to say to your grandfather? He¡¯s convinced he¡¯s got one foot in the grave. He wants a wedding. A great-grandkid. Gwen and I were supposed to meet the girl and¡ª¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll talk to him.¡¯


    That shut Reginald up for a beat.


    Then he conceded, ¡®Alright. I¡¯ll leave that to you, too.¡¯


    ¡®Good.¡¯


    ¡®Wait, don¡¯t hang up yet!¡¯ Reginald¡¯s voice changed gears, all awkward and slippery. ¡®There¡¯s... an opportunity. Some new fund. Hedge-adjacent. I¡¯d need some liquidity to get in early¡ª¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯


    ¡®Just hear me out¡ª¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯ Ashton didn¡¯t even blink. ¡®You said that with the golf resort in North Korea. It tanked.¡¯


    ¡®This one¡¯s different.¡¯


    ¡®You said that too, about the cryotherapy chain. Which,st I checked, froze your assets into near bankruptcy.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s not the same.¡¯


    ¡®Neither was the NFT art gallery. Remember that? The one that ¡°just needed influencer traction¡± and ended up being a PowerPoint scam with a domain hosted on GoDaddy.¡¯


    ¡®Alright, alright. I got your point. But I¡¯m your father and I could use¡ª¡¯


    ¡®I might consider helping you,¡¯ Ashton said coolly, ¡®if you keep your wife from treating me like the final rose on The Bachelor. I don¡¯t need another list of ¡°eligible¡± daughters from the Manhattan Yacht Club. Or a random heiress texting me at 3 a.m. because Gwendolyn has given out my number without my permission, again.¡¯


    Reginald sighed. ¡®She¡¯s just trying to help. You¡¯re almost thirty-one and still single. She wants to see you settled.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll settle when I want. What I need now is for her to stop bleeding money on events no one remembers and clothes she¡¯ll never wear. You rein her in, maybe I write a cheque. No promises.¡¯


    ¡®Fine. I¡¯ll talk to her.¡¯


    Ashton ended the call.


    Dominic stepped in, arms full.


    ¡®Boss. These are flowers from Miss Grey. Concert tickets from a¡ªuh¡ªMiss Kendra Lucille? Gift baskets from... Miss Yvette Summers, Miss Liliana Hart, and Miss Noemi Bancroft. Oh, and this...¡¯ He set down a long velvet case. ¡®An antique flintlock from Miss Desiree Lang. Guess she heard about your little shooting club phase in Switzend.¡¯


    Ashton didn¡¯t even nce at the pile. ¡®Chuck the flowers. Tickets go to whichever secretary fixes the office printer. Gift baskets¡ªfood goes to the staff. Whatever can¡¯t be eaten, sell it online. Donate the money to a children¡¯s charity.¡¯


    Dominic grinned. ¡®On it, boss. Can I keep one of the concert tickets? I happen to like the band.¡¯


    ¡®Sure.¡¯


    ¡®Thanks, boss.¡¯ Dominic turned to leave, then paused. ¡®Oh. The safe you ordered has arrived. Installed five minutes ago.¡¯


    ¡®Good.¡¯ Ashton opened the drawer behind him and pulled out a small velvet box.


    He flicked it open with one hand.


    Inside sat a ne. Clean lines, high-contrast design, tinum sharp as a whisper.


    If Mirabelle were here, she¡¯d have recognised it instantly.


    Veyra.


    Her design.


    The one she¡¯d made for Eliza ck.


    The one that¡¯d gone viral and drawn all kinds of mixed reviews.


    He snapped the box shut and handed it to Dominic.


    ¡®Lock this in the safe. Later. Personally.¡¯


    Dominic took it. ¡®Yes, boss.¡¯

 Chapter 37 - 38 Win-win

    <h4>Chapter 37: Chapter 38 Win-win</h4>


    I¡¯d been stewing over it all day and still hadn¡¯t decided.


    Marriage wasn¡¯t like picking a vour of ice cream.


    You couldn¡¯t just go, ¡®oops, not that one,¡¯ and hit undo.


    If Ashton were just Ashton, some guy with a decent job and a halfway-decent sense of humour, I might¡¯ve jumped in headfirst.


    But he wasn¡¯t.


    He was Ashton bloody Laurent.


    As in Laurent Global Holdings, Laurent Towers, Laurent being-on-the-news-for-buying-a-small-country kind of Laurent.


    While I was busy spiralling in my t, Yvaine texted me in all caps: GET YOUR ASS OUT. WE¡¯RE DRINKING. NO EXCUSES.


    She didn¡¯t need to shout, but whatever.


    I could use a distraction.


    And maybe a bit of tequ would kill my indecisive streak.


    I threw on a loose red jumper and skinny jeans, then headed out.


    Skyline had dipped to near-zero this week, but the bar was sweaty as hell.


    Loud music, overpriced drinks, and enough perfume in the air to set off a fire rm.


    Yvaine slung her arm around my shoulders and leaned in, shouting over the bass: ¡®Just the two of us is boring. Let¡¯s order a few male hosts!¡¯


    I rolled my eyes. ¡®Order some for yourself, babe. I¡¯m good.¡¯


    She narrowed her eyes. ¡®Wait. You¡¯re in a mood. What happened?¡¯


    I took a sip¡ªwhisky sour, not bad¡ªand muttered, ¡®There¡¯s something I need to decide. I can¡¯t tell if doing it would be insane or just... impulsive.¡¯


    ¡®Please don¡¯t tell me this is about Rhys again. If he shows up trying to ¡°talk things out¡±, I swear to God, Mira, you must not cave, or I¡¯ll disown you on the spot.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s not about Rhys,¡¯ I said, then paused. ¡®Actually, random question¡ªaren¡¯t you kinda tight with that friend of Ashton¡¯s? Cas or whatever?¡¯


    ¡®Cassian Langford?¡¯ Her nose wrinkled. ¡®He¡¯s mates with my brother Emmett. Always hanging around the house like a stray. What about him?¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s friends with Ashton, right? Think you could casually fish around for me? Get some intel on Ashton?¡¯


    Her eyes went wide. ¡®Why the hell are you digging into Ashton? Don¡¯t you already know him, being fake-engaged to him and all? Why ask someone else about him? What exactly do you want to know?¡¯


    ¡®His dating history, maybe.¡¯


    ¡®Come again?¡¯ She blinked like I¡¯d glitched. ¡®Why do you care about that? Wait¡ªdon¡¯t tell me you¡¯ve actually caught feelings? Wasn¡¯t this whole engagement thing just pretend?¡¯


    ¡®Focus, gossipter. Just find out what you can.¡¯


    ¡®Fine, fine.¡¯ She sighed. ¡®I think I heard Cas say something the other day. Lemme call him.¡¯


    She disappeared into the loo with her phone and reappeared barely three minutester.


    ¡®Got the goods. Cassian says Ashton¡¯s been hung up on some girl for years. Problem is, she¡¯s got a boyfriend. He never had a shot, but apparently he¡¯s still not over her. Hasn¡¯t dated anyone else since.¡¯


    I stared at my drink, my fingers tightening around the ss.


    So that was the ghost in his closet.


    Yvaine went on. ¡®But that was ages ago. Ashton went off to Europe, and Cas doesn¡¯t exactly have eyes on his love life over there. So whatever intel he¡¯s got could be totally outdated.¡¯


    ¡®Or he¡¯s still not over her,¡¯ I said, half to myself.


    Yvaine gave me a long look. Then¡ªbam¡ªrealisation hit.


    Her face morphed into a cocktail of pity, sympathy, and full-body cringe.


    ¡®Wait. Oh no. Honey, you¡¯ve actually fallen for him? Are you serious? I mean, yeah, he¡¯s hot. And richer than every ancestor I¡¯ve got going back to the Bronze Age. But if he¡¯s still hung up on someone else and you go chasing him... isn¡¯t that just you and Rhys all over again?¡¯


    ¡®Exactly,¡¯ I said.


    And that was the point.


    If Ashton was still pining for some long-lost ex, that just confirmed one thing¡ªhe wasn¡¯t expecting anything from me.


    Then this marriage was exactly what he said it was.


    A cold, clean, no-strings deal.


    ¡®If that¡¯s the case,¡¯ I muttered, ¡®marrying him doesn¡¯t sound too bad...¡¯


    Yvaine shrieked. ¡®What marriage? Who the hell are you marrying?¡¯


    She didn¡¯t even wait for me to answer. ¡®Please tell me it¡¯s not Rotten Rhys. Mira, babe, I swear, if you¡¯re even thinking about going back to that sentient trash fire¡ª¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s not him,¡¯ I cut in. ¡®It¡¯s Ashton.¡¯


    Her jaw hit the floor.


    She stared at me in mute horror for a full two minutes.


    Just blinking. Processing.


    Probably trying to remember if I¡¯d hit my head recently.


    Then finally: ¡®You drunk? Did you eat something weird? Did Rhys spike your drink with stupid pills? You¡¯re marrying Ashton Laurent? Like, for real real?¡¯


    I nodded. ¡®Thinking about it.¡¯


    Yvaine reached out and felt my forehead like she was checking for a fever.


    ¡®Darling, are you okay? Do we need to call someone? The Grangers have clearly scrambled your brain. You think you can just marry a Laurent like ordering a cake?¡¯


    I grabbed her wrist and gently lowered her hand.


    ¡®Let me exin,¡¯ I said, then walked her through the whole quickie marriage proposal situation.


    The more I talked, the wider her mouth got.


    By the time I was done, she looked like someone could¡¯ve shoved a tennis ball in there and she wouldn¡¯t even notice.


    I reached over and gently shut her jaw for her.


    ¡®That¡¯s the deal. He came to me, not the other way round. I¡¯m still thinking it through.¡¯


    Yvaine rebooted after about a minute of nk staring, then shot off the bar stool like her arse had caught fire and grabbed both my hands in a death grip.


    ¡®What¡¯s there to think through? Mira, don¡¯t think, just do! Marry him tomorrow! He¡¯s, like, a million times better than Rotten Rhys. There is literally no man in Skyline more gorgeous and loaded than Ashton fucking Laurent!¡¯


    I pulled her back down onto the stool.


    ¡®Okay, calm the hell down. Marriage is still kind of a big deal, don¡¯t you think? This feels... too fast.¡¯


    ¡®Fast is the new normal,¡¯ she fired back. ¡®Half the city¡¯s out here getting hitched after three Tinder swipes. Say yes first, panicter. Worst case, you divorce. Best case, you get to stare at that face every morning over coffee. Win-win.¡¯


    Then she smirked, her whole expression going full perv. ¡®And let¡¯s be real, you marry him, things are bound to liven up in the bedroom. I mean, you¡¯ve got first-hand experience, haven¡¯t you? He probably fuc¡ª¡¯


    I smacked the back of her head. ¡®Jesus, get your brain out of the gutter!¡¯


    Yvaine dropped the act, her voice going serious.


    ¡®Look, all jokes aside, Ashton¡¯s solid, at least from what I¡¯ve known about him so far. Plus, can you imagine Rhys¡¯s face when he finds out you married a Laurent? He¡¯ll have a fucking meltdown. I¡¯ll throw a party just to rub it in.¡¯


    By the time we¡¯d dissected every angle, drawn diagrams, and ranked Ashton¡¯s abs on a ten-point scale (he scored twelve), I¡¯d already made up my mind.


    After work the next day, I was lying on my sofa like a corpse, clutching my phone.


    I¡¯d written and rewritten the damn message so many times, my thumbs were sore.


    Every time I hovered over Send, I chickened out and hit backspace.


    By the time the clock hit eight, I¡¯d typed a whole nove and deleted all of it.


    And then the lights cut out.


    Dead. ck. Silent.


    I justy there blinking like, seriously?


    My old apartment went dark every time someone sneezed too hard.


    Now this one was on the same bullshit?


    I shot upright and jabbed the property management number.


    No answer.


    Tried again.


    Still nothing.


    Third time¡ªvoicemail.


    ¡®Brilliant,¡¯ I muttered, already half-pissed.


    Wasn¡¯t Oakwood Apartments supposed to be under Laurent Global Holdings?


    Ashton Laurent owned the ce.


    He even had a t here, so unless he liked showering in the dark, he should¡¯ve sorted this crap out ages ago.


    I shoved on some fluffy slippers and padded out into the hallway.

 Chapter 38 - 39 Ashton’s POV: Close the Deal

    <h4>Chapter 38: Chapter 39 Ashton¡¯s POV: Close the Deal</h4>


    When Mirabelle knocked, Ashton was rinsing grime off his hands.


    He¡¯d just been down in the stairwell, flipping the main breaker.


    Manufactured ckout.


    It wasn¡¯t an original move, but it was effective.


    Three days.


    He¡¯d given her three whole days to respond.


    She hadn¡¯t.


    He was already losing his mind.


    He¡¯d spent the entire day in the office glued to his phone.


    Every notification made his pulse spike, but none of the messages was from her.


    Cassian had asked him out for drinks that evening but he shut it down.


    He was too restless, too wired.


    Having wrapped his work early, he drove straight to Oakwood Apartments.


    He knew she was in her t, but if she wouldn¡¯te to him, then...


    He cut the power.


    A minuteter, he was in the stairwell, fiddling with the fuse box while she held up her phone as a torch.


    A few secondster, the lights snapped back on.


    ¡®Thanks!¡¯ Mirabelle sounded relieved. ¡®I¡¯ll go check if everything¡¯s okay.¡¯


    ¡®Just a minute.¡¯ Ashton turned. ¡®Miss Vance, have you made up your mind?¡¯


    She blinked.


    The hallway lights lit up the hesitation on her face as he closed the distance.


    She stepped back instinctively.


    He still towered over her, close enough to catch the way hershes fluttered.


    The way she chewed her bottom lip as if it could help her decide.


    Christ. That mouth.


    He remembered exactly how it tasted, that night in the hotel room.


    He remembered how it had moaned through clenched teeth, how it had gone ck when she came.


    It hadn¡¯t said his name, though.


    That was the one imperfection in an otherwise wless night.


    She hadn¡¯t known who he was then.


    She would now.


    Ashton clenched his jaw and forced the thought away.


    Getting hard in a goddamn hallway wasn¡¯t the n.


    Neither was terrifying her into running.


    She already looked like she might bolt if he so much as breathed too loud.


    So he stayed still.


    Pretending like he hadn¡¯t memorised every expression she made in bed.


    Pretending like he wasn¡¯t picturing her up against the door, saying his name like a prayer.


    ¡®I-I¡¯m still thinking...¡¯ she muttered.


    Ashton tilted his head down, his voice inches from her crown. ¡®I¡¯m done waiting. Give me a yes tonight.¡¯


    Mirabelle looked up so fast she nearly broke his jaw.


    ¡®It¡¯s just a contract, Miss Vance. A mutually beneficial one.¡¯ He let the words hang for a beat, then added: ¡®There¡¯s no conjugal duty.¡¯


    Not unless you want it.


    That part he kept to himself¡ªalong with the very vivid image of her t on his bed, breathless, begging, screaming his name until her throat gave out.


    He¡¯d bet his entire portfolio she sounded just as perfect wrecked as she did sarcastic.


    Out loud, he was cool, clinical.


    ¡®We¡¯ll need to keep up appearances in public. Gs, fundraisers, the asional magazine cover. You¡¯d have to y the part¡ªmy wife. I get that¡¯s a burden. Might eat into your personal time... maybe even your dating life.¡¯


    His jaw flexed at that.


    Imagining her on someone else¡¯s arm made something dark rise in his throat, but he shoved it down.


    ¡®So here¡¯s my offer,¡¯ he said. ¡®At the end of one year, you get ten million. Compensation for your time, your social life, your... inconvenience. If it works, we extend. For the second year, fifteen million. Third year, twenty. Escting terms. Entirely optional. No strings if you walk after the first.¡¯


    He leaned back slightly, giving her space he didn¡¯t want to give.


    His voice stayed measured.


    His pulse didn¡¯t.


    ¡®Ten... million?¡¯ Her voice cracked. ¡®As in dors?¡¯


    He cocked a brow. ¡®Too low? I can bump it up to¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Nope! No! That¡¯s... fine! Totally fine!¡¯ She was waving her hands like she was trying to g down a ne.


    ¡®So this works for you?¡¯ he pressed.


    A pause.


    Then, very softly, ¡®It works.¡¯


    He released a breath he hadn¡¯t realised he¡¯d been holding.


    ¡®Good. Then we¡¯re registering the marriage tomorrow.¡¯


    ¡®Wh-what? Tomorrow?!¡¯ she gasped, voice shooting up an octave. ¡®Don¡¯t you think that¡¯s a bit fast?¡¯


    ¡®My grandfather is dying. He wants to see me settled before he...¡¯ Ashtonyered in just enough grief to make it sound real, though he didn¡¯t feel a damn thing.


    ¡®Oh.¡¯


    Then he tacked on, deadpan: ¡®Hope you understand, Miss Vance. Bit of a time crunch.¡¯


    ¡®R-right... yeah. Totally get it.¡¯


    ¡®Great. We¡¯re registering the marriage tomorrow.¡¯


    Mirabelle blinked. ¡®Um... I guess, yeah, let¡¯s do it. But aren¡¯t there preparations to make?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ve already submitted my application. I can upload yours in under two minutes. You just need your ID.¡¯


    He patted his pocket.


    The $35 cash for the marriage license had been living there since the first time he met her back in Skyline City¡ªjust in case the credit card system glitched the day he dragged her to the City Clerk¡¯s Office.


    ¡®But isn¡¯t there a waiting period?¡¯ she asked.


    ¡®I¡¯ll get a judicial waiver.¡¯


    ¡®And a witness?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll bring one.¡¯


    Or twelve.


    He wasn¡¯t taking chances.


    Mirabelle looked at him, a bit dazed. ¡®You¡¯ve really thought of everything.¡¯


    ¡®I have.¡¯


    ¡®Then... I guess I¡¯ll see you tomorrow morning?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll pick you up at eight.¡¯


    The City Clerk¡¯s Office opened at 8:30, but traffic was unpredictable, and there might be couples ahead of them.


    He made a mental note to call Dominic and have them bumped to the top of the list.


    ¡®Right. Then... good night,¡¯ she said, still looking like she¡¯d just been hit by a very polite, very expensive bus.


    But Ashton wasn¡¯t done. ¡®That¡¯s the legal bit. Now, about the wedding¡ª¡¯


    She spun. ¡®Wait. There¡¯s a wedding? Like, reception and all?¡¯


    ¡®Isn¡¯t that tradition? I was thinking reception at The za right after the City Clerk¡¯s, then¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Whoa. Slow down.¡¯ She raised a hand like she was directing traffic. ¡®That¡¯s way too soon. Weddings take months to n.¡¯


    ¡®I see. You don¡¯t want to rush it. So, postpone the reception a few months? That way you can send out invites, arrange flowers¡ª¡¯


    ¡®No,¡¯ she cut in. ¡®I mean maybe... no reception. At all. This is mostly for your grandfather, right? The certificate should be enough. And this ends in a year. No point splurging on a big wedding.¡¯


    ¡®Oh.¡¯ He masked his disappointment. ¡®No reception, then.¡¯


    ¡®Right.¡¯


    They said goodnight.


    He kissed her. Featherlight. Restrained.


    Which was a goddamn miracle, considering he wanted to m her against the door and kiss her until she forgot her own name.


    After she shut the door, he checked the time.


    Still a few things to set in motion if he wanted tomorrow to run like clockwork.


    There was only a registration. No wedding.


    Fine. It was a minor setback.


    But she¡¯d change her mind. Sooner orter.


    He¡¯d make sure of it.

 Chapter 39 - 40 Detour

    <h4>Chapter 39: Chapter 40 Detour</h4>


    When I opened the door to grab the mail, Ashton was already standing there with a coffee tray and a paper bag.


    I blinked. ¡®Uh, morning.¡¯


    It came out awkward.


    Couldn¡¯t help it.


    Last night I¡¯d somehow agreed to marry the man, and my brain was still buffering.


    ¡®Morning,¡¯ he said smoothly. ¡®I brought breakfast.¡¯


    Of course he had.


    ¡®Thanks. Come in. You look... nice.¡¯


    Understatement of the damn year.


    He was wearing a three-piece charcoal grey suit.


    Not the stiff Wall Street kind, but something sharp and clearly custom.


    Thepels were narrow, the trousers tailored within an inch of their life, and the stitching at the cuffs were subtle hand-embroidered initials¡ªAL.


    Jesus. Even his tie looked smug.


    Peopleplimented well-dressed men by saying they looked like a million bucks.


    For Ashton, I¡¯d have to add three more zeros, and that still felt like lowballing it.


    We ate in the living room, though neither of us touched much.


    My croissant sat there king quietly while my brain looped through the phrase ¡®I¡¯m getting married today¡¯ like a bad ringtone.


    After about fifteen minutes of poking at the pastries, I nced at the clock.


    Still early.


    The City Clerk¡¯s Office wouldn¡¯t be open for another hour and half.


    ¡®Would you mind making a detour first?¡¯ I asked, not quite meeting his eyes.


    ¡®Not at all,¡¯ he said, instantly. ¡®As long as we¡¯re notte.¡¯


    He drove.


    In silence, mostly, because there were only so many ways to fill the air between ¡®want to get married?¡¯ and ¡®sure.¡¯


    He pulled up outside the Vance residence.


    I unbuckled. ¡®Thanks. I won¡¯t be long.¡¯


    ¡®Do you want me toe with you?¡¯


    I hesitated. Then shook my head. ¡®No. I can handle it.¡¯


    I grabbed the door handle, then paused.


    Fine. He deserved context.


    ¡®I¡¯ve been thinking about what you said. About Aunt Louisa. You were right¡ªI shouldn¡¯t let guilt steer my decisions just because she¡¯s been... decent to me.¡¯ I sighed. ¡®Marriage should be about me and the person I¡¯m actually marrying. Not how charming his mum might be.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t say anything.


    Just gave me a slight nod.


    ¡®I gave Rhys the ring back ages ago. But there¡¯s something else I forgot to return to the Grangers.¡¯


    There¡¯d been an exchange of gifts when our families arranged the engagement.


    My dad gave the Grangers an heirloom gold ring.


    Louisa had it now.


    The Grangers¡¯ gift had been a vintage brooch.


    ording to the family lore, it once belonged to Louisa¡¯s great-great-great-grandmother, who probably wore it while judging people in oil paintings.


    My parents had kept it locked away in a safe somewhere.


    When I stepped inside the house, only Caroline was there.


    She was on the sofa, sipping coffee.


    ¡®Well, well. Look who finally showed her face,¡¯ she sneered, without looking away from her mug. ¡®You sounded real tough on the phone the other day. And now you¡¯vee crawling back? After pping Catherine and Serenna in front of half the city? Unless you¡¯re here to apologise, save your breath.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ve got nothing to apologise for. If anything, Catherine should be apologising for sleeping with my fianc¨¦, and Serenna for trying to steal hers.¡¯


    Her coffee cup hit the table so hard I thought the ss would crack.


    ¡®Unbelievable! I raised you. I fed you, clothed you, paid for your bloody orthodontist. And now you think you can just cut us off?¡¯


    Here we go. Again.


    ¡®Don¡¯t start with the Greatest Hits,¡¯ I cut her off fast. ¡®I didn¡¯te here for a lecture. I came for the brooch the Grangers gave us.¡¯


    She frowned like I¡¯d asked for her kidneys.


    Took her a full five seconds to even remember what I was talking about.


    Then her eyes narrowed.


    ¡®Why do you want that brooch?¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t see how that¡¯s your business. It was given to me. It belongs to me.¡¯ My patience was already on a three-second fuse.


    ¡®Absolutely not,¡¯ she snapped, all tight-jawed fury. ¡®You¡¯re nning to return it, aren¡¯t you? To the Grangers?¡¯


    ¡®So what if I am? Louisa gave it to me. I can do with it whatever I like.¡¯


    I checked my watch.


    I¡¯d stupidly thought this would be quick.


    In, out, done. Five minutes, max.


    But no, Caroline was digging her heels in.


    ¡®I¡¯m your mother. I have every right to hold on to it for safekeeping.¡¯


    ¡®Exactly, safekeeping. As in, you¡¯re just the storage unit. And newssh, when something¡¯s mine, I can take it back whenever the hell I want. Like... now.¡¯


    ¡®Absolutely not. It¡¯s way too valuable to just hand over.¡¯


    I narrowed my eyes. ¡®You giving it to me or not?¡¯


    She sniffed, mouth curling into that nasty little smirk she probably practised in the mirror. ¡®Even if I did give it away, it wouldn¡¯t be to you. If Rhys gets engaged to Catherine, she should have it.¡¯


    ¡®Then wait till they¡¯re engaged. Until then, it¡¯s still mine.¡¯


    If I didn¡¯t hand that brooch back to Louisa myself, she¡¯d keep thinking there was still something between me and Rhys. Which... ew.


    ¡®Still no.¡¯ Caroline¡¯s eyes darted.


    She knew damn well if Louisa had the final say, she¡¯d never let that heirloom piecend on Catherine¡¯s backstabbing chest.


    I raised a brow. ¡®Oh, I see. You¡¯re scared Louisa and the Grangers won¡¯t ept Catherine, right? Scared that even if Rhys does propose, Louisa¡¯s gonna pretend she doesn¡¯t see her? So you¡¯re just gonna hoard the brooch like some paranoid dragon and hope no one notices? That¡¯s delusional, even for you.¡¯


    That hit a nerve.


    Her nostrils red so wide I thought she might actuallybust.


    ¡®How I handle things is my business,¡¯ she hissed. ¡®And mind your bloody tone. I¡¯m your mother, not someone you get to lecture.¡¯


    ¡®Cool. Then you¡¯ll love this.¡¯


    I whipped out my phone and started dialling.

 Chapter 40 - 41 Married

    <h4>Chapter 40: Chapter 41 Married</h4>


    ¡®Hi, yeah, I¡¯d like to report stolen property. A vintage brooch, pearls and diamonds, easily worth seven figures. If someone refuses to return it, does that count as grandrceny? What kind of sentence are we talking¡ªten years minimum?¡¯


    ¡®What the hell are you doing?!¡¯ Caroline shrieked, full banshee mode. ¡®Have you lost your mind? Put that phone down!¡¯


    She lunged from the sofa.


    One slipper flew off mid-sprint, but she didn¡¯t even notice.


    Too busy iling at me, trying to snatch the phone from my hand.


    I stepped back calmly, dodging her grab like we were doing slow-mo tai chi.


    ¡®Toote. I already called the cops. They said they¡¯re on their way.¡¯


    Caroline froze.


    Her legs went wobbly like someone pulled the plug on her spine.


    ¡®You called the police? Over this little thing? Are you insane?¡¯


    ¡®Oh, now it¡¯s just ¡°a little thing¡±?¡¯ I folded my arms. ¡®If it¡¯s so unimportant, why¡¯ve you spent thest ten minutes ying keep-away?¡¯


    ¡®You don¡¯t call the police on your mother!¡¯ she shrieked. ¡®What the hell is wrong with you? Do you even see me as family?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯ve got two minutes to bring down the brooch. If you do, I¡¯ll cancel the police report. If not, I¡¯ll tell them you stole the brooch from me and that it¡¯s worth millions. Let¡¯s see how that goes over.¡¯


    She stared at me like I¡¯d pped her with a frying pan.


    Then her mouth twisted into something sour and bitter.


    ¡®Fine. You win.¡¯


    She spun around and stomped upstairs, muttering God knows what under her breath.


    Probably hexes.


    Truth was, I never made the call.


    I just wanted to scare the hell out of her.


    If she¡¯d paid any attention, she¡¯d have noticed I didn¡¯t give the ¡®police¡¯ my address.


    It was just some light psychological warfare.


    And it worked.


    Still, I wasn¡¯t exactly doing a happy dance.


    All I wanted was my own damn thing back, and she acted like I¡¯d demanded a kidney.


    This family had stopped seeing me as one of them a long time ago.


    The sound of heels ttering down the staircase snapped me out of it.


    Caroline came barrelling down, looking like she¡¯d aged ten years in three minutes.


    She shoved a mahogany box into my hands.


    ¡®Here. You got what you wanted. Now cancel the bloody call.¡¯


    I popped the box open and inspected the brooch.


    It was intact.


    No scratches, no substitutions.


    Then I snapped the box shut and turned on my heel.


    Caroline came pping after me like a pissed-off goose.


    ¡®Mirabelle! Cancel the damn call! You really want the cops showing up on my doorstep? What will the neighbours think? Do you hear me? Tell them not toe!¡¯


    I didn¡¯t break stride. Just waved my phone over my shoulder.


    ¡®Rx. They¡¯re noting.¡¯


    I was halfway down the driveway before she even hit the front door.


    Once I got a few houses away, I stopped. Turned around.


    Three-storey homes, all smug and cookie-cutter, lined both sides.


    This wasn¡¯t the fanciest part of Skyline City, but anyone living here wasn¡¯t clipping coupons either.


    I grew up here, but that house wasn¡¯t mine anymore.


    I spun back, power-walked out of the neighbourhood, and spotted Ashton¡¯s car parked by the kerb like a ck jaguar waiting to pounce.


    I forced my face into something vaguely neutral, slid into the passenger seat, and buckled up.


    ¡®Got what you came for?¡¯ he asked, eyes flicking to the box.


    ¡®Yeah.¡¯ I set the box on myp, fingers curling around the carved edges.


    He started the engine. ¡®Right. Off to the Office of the City Clerk. No backing out now, Miss Vance.¡¯


    I nodded. ¡®No backing out.¡¯


    Once we hit the main road, he nced over. ¡®So, what was so important you had to show up at the crack of dawn to grab it?¡¯


    I ran my thumb along the floral carving on the lid. ¡®It¡¯s the engagement gift the Grangers gave me. From back when we were still pretending that was a good idea.¡¯


    ¡®Oh? The Grangers gave you that?¡¯


    I thought I¡¯d caught a slight edge in his voice, but maybe I¡¯d just imagined it.


    ¡®Yeah. It¡¯s a brooch. Passed down from Aunt Louisa¡¯s side. Some kind of family heirloom. Since the engagement¡¯s off, I can¡¯t keep it. Figured I¡¯d drop it offter. Tie up loose ends, you know. Maybe Aunt Louisa will finally see that I¡¯m serious about the breakup.¡¯


    ¡®Good idea.¡¯ He sounded sincere.


    The City Clerk¡¯s office came into view.


    We parked, got out, and headed straight in.


    We were first in line.


    I had no clue what I was doing.


    But Ashton moved like he¡¯d memorised the floor n and speedran the tutorial.


    He knew every window, every form, every ¡®sign here¡¯.


    He also looked like he was racing a bomb countdown. Just in case I bolted.


    Twenty minutester, I was holding a crisp little piece of legalmitment in both hands.


    Outside, I exhaled for the first time all morning.


    My death grip on the marriage certificate loosened.


    It was just paper.


    White. Boring fonts. Embossed stamps. Names, date, time, location, the usual robotnguage confirming, yep, we¡¯d officially tied the knot. Signatures. A witness line I hadn¡¯t even registered.


    Also, surprise¡ªI learned my new husband¡¯s full name was Ashton Jules-Sylvain Laurent.


    I stared down at his signature like it might bite.


    I¡¯d really married him.


    Not Rhys Granger. Him.


    Was I okay? Unclear.


    The whole thing still felt floaty and unreal, like I¡¯d tripped andnded in someone else¡¯s life.


    We walked side by side to the kerb.


    I stopped. ¡®Um...¡¯


    Should I call him hubby? That sounded weird.


    ¡®Mr Laurent, you go ahead. I¡¯m heading straight to the Grangers.¡¯


    I was already pulling out my phone to call a cab when he said, ¡®I¡¯m not busy today. I¡¯ll drive you.¡¯


    He opened the passenger door like it was non-negotiable.


    I hesitated.

 Chapter 41 - 42 Can of Worms

    <h4>Chapter 41: Chapter 42 Can of Worms</h4>


    I was about to say no, thanks, we¡¯re not that kind of married, but his voice had that corporate don¡¯t-argue undertone.


    I got in the car. ¡®Thanks. Appreciate it.¡¯


    He just hummed, barely a sound, already turning the key.


    We made it to the next block before he added, like it was some offhandment, ¡®It¡¯s no trouble.¡¯


    I nced over.


    That chiselled, unreadable side profile gave nothing away. Same as before.


    From the moment we walked out with that marriage certificate, he hadn¡¯t shown a single flicker.


    No awkwardughs, no nervous tics.


    Just the same ice-cold poise he probably used to fire underperforming staff.


    It weirdly helped.


    The more he treated this marriage like a business transaction, the easier it was to breathe.


    No romantic pressure. No messy feelings.


    Just... clean lines and clear boundaries.


    Then he said, still eyes on the road, ¡®We¡¯re married. Driving my wife isn¡¯t exactly going above and beyond. And you don¡¯t need to call me Mr Laurent anymore. Just use my name.¡¯


    ¡®Alright... Ashton.¡¯


    ***


    I¡¯d been to the Granger house more times than I could count.


    Their housekeeper, Darlene, recognised me right away.


    She opened the door with a polite smile and a soft ¡®Miss Vance¡¯ like we were old family friends.


    ¡®Come in and have a seat, dear. I¡¯ll go fetch Mrs Granger. She¡¯s just been discharged from the hospital. I know she¡¯ll be thrilled to see you.¡¯


    ¡®Thanks,¡¯ I said, settling on the nearest sofa and ignoring the smell of money and over-scented candles.


    I didn¡¯t even get a sip of water before Willow Granger came swanning down the stairs.


    Her face dropped the second she saw me.


    ¡®What the hell are you doing here? Rhys doesn¡¯t even live here anymore. If you¡¯re looking to throw yourself at him, you¡¯re at the wrong address.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not here for Rhys. I came to see Aunt Louisa.¡¯


    That only made her scowl harder. ¡®My mum? Are you serious?¡¯


    ¡®Do I look like I¡¯m joking?¡¯


    ¡®You look like one of those pathetic women who can¡¯t keep their boyfriend in check, so they go crying to mummy for backup. What, hoping she¡¯ll p some sense into him again?¡¯


    Again? Did Louisa p Rhys?


    That was interesting.


    Willow stepped closer, narrowing her eyes. ¡®Last time, Mum gave Rhys a proper bollocking in the hospital. Isn¡¯t that enough? Are you here to open another can of worms?¡¯


    ¡®Are you calling yourself a worm?¡¯


    Willow looked thrown.


    Back when I still thought pleasing Rhys was a viable strategy, I¡¯d gone out of my way to be friendly with her.


    Now that I wasn¡¯t smiling and simpering, she looked at me like I¡¯d grown a second head.


    She stomped the rest of the way down and zeroed in on the box I¡¯d ced on the coffee table. ¡®What¡¯s that?¡¯


    Before I could say a word, she reached out and flipped the lid open.


    She stared down at the brooch inside.


    Her eyes widened, and she just stood there gawping at it.


    ¡®That¡¯s... a really pretty brooch. Looks kinda... familiar.¡¯


    Then it hit her.


    ¡®Wait! Isn¡¯t this the heirloom thing my family gave yours when you and Rhys got engaged?¡¯


    I didn¡¯t confirm or deny. Just let her stew in it.


    Willow, of course, decided that meant ¡®yes¡¯, and picked it up without asking for permission.


    She held it up to the light. Squinted. Gasped a little.


    But then she remembered she hated me and pped on her best suspicious-face.


    ¡®So that¡¯s why you¡¯re here. You¡¯re trying to use this to guilt-trip my mum, get her to force Rhys into staying with you. Bet you dragged your parents into it too.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t bother replying.


    She put the brooch down, thenunched into her big speech. ¡®You don¡¯t have to push him so hard, you know. Rhys will marry you. He said he would. That should be enough. He might not love you anymore, but at least he¡¯s doing the decent thing. You should just close one eye to him and Catherine, and you can still be my sister-inw. You¡¯ll be the official Mrs Granger everybody acknowledges.¡¯


    I stared at her in amazement. ¡®God, the way you say that¡ªmakes it sound like I¡¯m the mistress.¡¯


    That shut her up.


    Her face turned an awkward shade of pink.


    She looked like she wanted to say something clever but couldn¡¯t find the script.


    Willow muttered after a beat, ¡®Catherine came first. She and Rhys... they¡¯re meant to be. You¡¯re the one who¡¯s interfering. Besides, Rhys wouldn¡¯t have looked elsewhere if he were happy at home.¡¯


    That pissed me off more than I expected.


    Not the words.


    The smug little philosophy baked into them.


    I¡¯d been such an idiot, hadn¡¯t I?


    Twisting myself into knots to be nice to this girl¡ªthis moral vacuum in designer boots¡ªbecause I thought it would help with Rhys.


    Never again.


    I reached out and took the brooch straight from her hand. ¡®Save your lecture. Rhys and I are over.¡¯


    I¡¯d barely finished the sentence when she scoffed loud enough to wake the dead.


    ¡®Yeah right. You¡¯re obsessed with him. Everyone knows you¡¯d do anything to get him back. This is just yourtest scheme.¡¯


    Willow flounced onto the sofa like she¡¯d just won something and was waiting for her prize.


    We both waited in tense, sparkly silence.


    I could feel her watching me from the corner of her eye, like I was about to pull a rabbit¡ªor a prenup¡ªout of my handbag.


    A few minutester, Louisa appeared at the top of the stairs.


    She¡¯d only just been discharged from the hospital, but she looked better than I¡¯d expected¡ªfresh lipstick, silk scarf, no IV drip in sight.


    ¡®Mirabelle! I¡¯ve been meaning to call you¡ª¡¯


    Her gaze dropped to the familiar-looking box in front of me.


    Her steps slowed.

 Chapter 42 - 43 Forgery

    <h4>Chapter 42: Chapter 43 Forgery</h4>


    I walked over, gently took her arm, and helped her down.


    ¡®Aunt Louisa, I came today because... It¡¯s about the engagement.¡¯


    Her face didn¡¯t change much, but I watched it like a hawk anyway, ready to call an ambnce if her blood pressure spiked again.


    Louisa sighed. ¡®Just say what you need to say. Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t overreact this time.¡¯


    We sat.


    I slid the box across the coffee table.


    ¡®This is the brooch you gave me back then. Now that Rhys and I are no longer engaged, it doesn¡¯t feel right for me to keep it. I¡¯d also like the gold ring my parents gave your family returned. Let¡¯s just make a clean break.¡¯


    Louisa ran her fingers over the brooch.


    Next to her, Willow sat like she¡¯d been sculpted from pure snobbery¡ªchin up, shoulders back, eyes full of suspicion.


    She still didn¡¯t buy it.


    She thought I was ying some long con.


    Maybe forcing a breakup to win Rhys back.


    Louisa grabbed my hand.


    ¡®Are you absolutely sure about this? Rhys isn¡¯t perfect, I know. But once you break off the engagement, what happens next? You¡¯ll be alone. Everyone in Skyline knows you¡¯re his fianc¨¦e. They think you¡¯ve been chasing after him for years.¡¯


    That was true; I had been chasing after him for years.


    ¡®If you walk away now, they¡¯llugh behind your back. You¡¯ve got no one to back you up. Have you thought about what that really means?¡¯


    ¡®Mum!¡¯ Willow snapped. ¡®She¡¯s not calling off the engagement, she¡¯s pretending to call it off¡ªobviously! It¡¯s just another sob-story stunt to get a reaction out of you. God knows what game she¡¯s ying this time.¡¯


    ¡®Shut it,¡¯ Louisa shot her a look sharp enough to peel paint.


    I ignored Willow. ¡®Aunt Louisa, you don¡¯t have to worry about me. I actually came today with some good news too¡ªI got married.¡¯


    Instant silence.


    Both Granger women froze, mouths slightly open.


    Then Willow found her voice and used it to shatter ss. ¡®What the hell are you talking about???¡¯


    ¡®I got married. For real.¡¯ I turned to Louisa. ¡®You don¡¯t have to worry. I¡¯ll be just fine without Rhys. Better, even.¡¯


    Willow¡¯s face scrunched like she¡¯d just bitten into a lemon. ¡®You¡¯re not seriously faking a marriage just to break up Rhys and Catherine, are you?¡¯


    ¡®No. Rhys and I are ancient history. Whatever he does with Catherine is none of my business.¡¯


    I reached into my bag and pulled out the marriage certificate, handed it across the coffee table. ¡®We signed the papers today.¡¯


    Louisa reached for it, but Willow snatched it away first.


    ¡®This is fake,¡¯ she barked, flipping it over like she was looking for a watermark. ¡®You¡¯re full of tricks. No way is this real.¡¯


    I shrugged. ¡®There¡¯s no reason to fake it.¡¯


    She kept squinting at it. ¡®Wait a second... is this¡ª?¡¯


    Her eyes bugged out.


    She finally looked at the name.


    ¡®Ashton Laurent?!¡¯


    She screamed it like it burned her tongue.


    Then she blinked.


    Then sheughed¡ªlike, full witch-cackle.


    ¡®Mirabelle Vance! If you¡¯re going to fake a marriage, at least use someone believable. Where the hell did you get the nerve to Photoshop Ashton Laurent¡¯s name onto a marriage cert? It looks legit, I¡¯ll give you that. You must¡¯ve paid a fortune for the forgery.¡¯


    Louisa didn¡¯t believe it either. ¡®Mirabelle, where¡¯d you get this?¡¯


    Willow snorted. ¡®Gotta admit, it¡¯s a pretty good fake. Who¡¯d you hire, one of those dodgy hacker forums?¡¯


    The look she gave me belonged on a mugshot wall, smeared with smug and judgement.


    I ignored her and turned back to Louisa. ¡®Aunt Louisa,e on. Like I¡¯d forge a government document just to get a rise out of you. Especially one with the Laurent name on it. That¡¯s not just illegal; it¡¯s suicide. You know it. You know me.¡¯


    I looked her dead in the eye, not even a twitch.


    Louisa¡¯s lip wobbled.


    When the truth of my words hit her, so did the tears. ¡®You¡¯re really married.¡¯


    Willow iled like someone had just hit her with a water balloon. ¡®Mum, are you serious? Don¡¯t fall for her crap! If Ashton Laurent married Mirabelle Vance, I¡¯ll chop my legs off and moonwalk backwards down Fifth Avenue.¡¯


    I saw her frantically scrolling through her phone,paring some inte image to the certificate in front of her.


    ¡®If you can prove this certificate¡¯s fake,¡¯ I said, folding my arms, ¡®I¡¯ll be the one doing the backwards moonwalk. With no clothes on.¡¯


    Her face changed by degrees.


    First doubt, then panic, then full-blown shock.


    She slumped into the sofa. ¡®This can¡¯t be real. Mum. Tell me I¡¯m hallucinating.¡¯


    Louisa sniffled and grabbed my hand again. ¡®You can¡¯t just marry some random stranger to spite Rhys. This is your whole life we¡¯re talking about...¡¯


    ¡®Ashton¡¯s not just some stranger,¡¯ I said sharply.


    I hadn¡¯t meant to snap, but something about that sentence rubbed me the wrong way.


    Maybe because it wasn¡¯t entirely untrue.


    ¡®Ashton¡¯s young and good-looking and well-known. Definitely not a stranger.¡¯


    Louisa dabbed her face with a tissue. ¡®I know, sweetheart. He¡¯s obviously miles better than Rhys. I just... I¡¯m scared you acted on impulse. Men like Ashton, they live on another. Can someone like that really treat you right?¡¯


    ¡®He does treat me right,¡¯ I said, dead calm.


    Which was a big statement, considering I¡¯d barely spent more than some dozen hours with him.


    But I wasn¡¯t lying.

 Chapter 43 - 44 Double Standards

    <h4>Chapter 43: Chapter 44 Double Standards</h4>


    I remembered that night at the Laurent party, how he dropped everything the moment I needed to leave.


    He cancelled the whole party and personally drove me to the hospital.


    And that coat. He¡¯d wrapped it around me like I was something worth saving.


    Rhys would¡¯ve let me pass out on the marble floor and asked someone to mop around me.


    So yeah. Ashton Laurent was a lot of things. But ¡®just some guy¡¯ wasn¡¯t one of them.


    ¡®He treats me well,¡¯ I said again, louder this time. ¡®Aunt Louisa, I¡¯ve found something better. You don¡¯t need to worry about me anymore.¡¯


    Louisa¡¯s eyes filled up again. ¡®I don¡¯t even know what to say. Rhys was never meant for you, I see that now. He¡¯s the one who lost out.¡¯


    I nced pointedly at the box on the table. ¡®Aunt Louisa...¡¯


    She let out a resigned sigh. ¡®I get it. Whatever bond you and Rhys had, it¡¯s over. That old keepsake means nothing now. I¡¯ll go get it for you.¡¯


    I watched her climb the stairs, slow and hunched like the weight of family disappointment was dragging her down.


    In my head, I whispered a quiet ¡®sorry¡¯.


    The Granger family had already sent out half the wedding invitations with my name stamped next to Rhys¡¯s.


    Now they¡¯d have to w them all back, one by one.


    And Clive Granger would probably explode.


    Louisa would be the first in the st radius.


    I was still chewing on that thought when Willow suddenly let out a snort.


    ¡®Didn¡¯t peg you for a social climber, Mira. But look at you¡ªbagging Ashton Laurent. Who knew you had it in you?¡¯


    Her voice dripped with spite.


    Probably because Ashton wasn¡¯t just rich and hot; he was the billionaire fantasy every bored socialite dreamed ofnding.


    Just yesterday, some C-list actress had ¡®identally¡¯ leaked paparazzi shots of her bumping into him outside a restaurant.


    Even someone like Willow had probably entertained the idea of ¡®identally¡¯ falling into his arms.


    And now he was mine.


    Well, sort of.


    ¡®That day at the hospital,¡¯ she snapped, eyes narrowing, ¡®I knew something was off when he showed up with you. Did you seduce him? Got some sleazy photos and ckmailed your way into a ring? Or maybe drugged him¡ª¡¯


    My palm connected with her face so fast even I didn¡¯t see iting. ¡®Watch your mouth.¡¯


    ¡®You just pped me?¡¯ Willow shrieked, springing off the sofa like she¡¯d been electrocuted.


    She tried to hit back, but I grabbed her wrist mid-swing.


    My nails dug in just enough to make her wince and twist like a squashed bug.


    ¡®Last time I didn¡¯t hit you back was out of respect for Aunt Louisa. Don¡¯t mistake that for weakness. That p just now was for the filthing out of your mouth.¡¯


    I shoved her back onto the sofa.


    ¡®I didn¡¯t even know Ashton until after I dumped your brother. So maybe back off before you embarrass yourself even more.¡¯


    ¡®Oh please,¡¯ she spat. ¡®You expect me to believe you two just happened to fall in love right after the breakup? Spare me. I see right through women like you.¡¯


    I walked over and picked up the marriage certificate from the table, slipping it back into my bag.


    ¡®Your darling brother cheated on me with my sister, and you¡¯ve got the nerve toe at me? Cute. Either you¡¯ve got double standards or you genuinely think it¡¯s fine for guys to two-time their girlfriends. In that case, I hope your next boyfriend¡¯s just like your scumbag brother.¡¯


    ¡®You¡ª!¡¯Willow turned the colour of an overripe tomato. Then she huffed, ¡®Whatever. I¡¯m not wasting my time arguing with you.¡¯


    ¡®You think you get to call it quits now?¡¯ I shot back. ¡®Didn¡¯t you just say you¡¯d moonwalk backwards if I actually married Ashton? Now that you know the cert¡¯s real... I¡¯m still waiting, babe. Moonwalk or coward¡ªpick one.¡¯


    Willow went silent, pretending she hadn¡¯t heard a thing.


    Then she cleared her throat, mumbled something about beingte for a Ptes ss and bolted.


    A few minutester, Louisa came downstairs, holding a ring box.


    She handed it to me like it hurt her.


    ¡®Even if things didn¡¯t work out between you and Rhys, I still think of you as my daughter. Don¡¯t be a stranger, alright?¡¯


    I nodded. ¡®I know, Aunt Louisa.¡¯


    And I meant it.


    She was the only decent Granger in the entire godforsaken gene pool.


    I hugged her, promised to keep in touch, then left.


    The second I stepped out of that house, it felt like someone had finally cracked open a window.


    I could breathe again.


    Ashton was waiting for me outside. ¡®All sorted?¡¯


    ¡®All sorted.¡¯ I slid into the passenger seat.


    He clocked the ring box immediately.


    His eyes flicked down, then back to my face.


    I gave it a yful shake.


    ¡®The engagement gift,¡¯ I said. ¡®And now I¡¯m officially Rhys¨Cfree.¡¯


    Ashton leaned in suddenly, close enough that I could feel his breath against my ear.


    My heart started pounding.


    I stared at him, trying not to blink like a stunned deer.


    ¡®What¡¯re you doing?¡¯ I asked, my voice not nearly as casual as I wanted.


    He just smiled and pulled something from behind his back, like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat.


    Except this wasn¡¯t a rabbit.


    It was a velvet jewellery box.


    He popped it open.


    Inside was a pendant ne that made Tiffany¡¯s look like ire¡¯s essories.


    It wasn¡¯t showy¡ªno diamonds vomiting from every corner¡ªbut the design was clean, elegant, and rich in that quiet, terrifying way.


    The stone in the centre was pale violet, almost glowing, with shes of icy blue and silver when it caught the light.


    Grandidierite.


    Rare as hell.


    Stupidly expensive.


    Even before he fastened it round my neck, I knew it wasn¡¯t something you picked up on a whim.

 Chapter 44 - 45 Presents

    <h4>Chapter 44: Chapter 45 Presents</h4>


    From the delicate curve of the setting to the custom sp detail, I¡¯d bet my sketchbook it was designed from scratch.


    And unless Ashton had been carrying it around for fun, it meant he¡¯d pulled this together in thest few hours.


    For me.


    My chest tightened like my lungs were being rude and forgetting how to function.


    Then he leaned in closer, and suddenly the side of my ear went warm.


    I felt something¡ªlight, soft, like lips¡ªbut it was gone so fast I wasn¡¯t sure it¡¯d happened.


    He reached forward and gently touched the ne now hanging around my neck.


    ¡®That brooch didn¡¯t suit you,¡¯ he said. ¡®This fits better. You like it?¡¯


    I managed to find my voice, just barely. ¡®Yeah... I like it.¡¯


    I hadn¡¯t even seen what it looked like on me, but I didn¡¯t need a mirror to know it was stunning.


    It was the kind of piece that made people stop mid-sentence.


    Ashton gave a little satisfied smile, then his eyes flicked to the ring box still sitting on myp.


    ¡®So I gave you a gift,¡¯ he said. ¡®Aren¡¯t you meant to give me one too?¡¯


    I blinked.


    I had no idea gift-exchanging was part of the programme.


    ¡®But I didn¡¯t prepare anything. Can I get you something in a few days?¡¯


    ¡®But you have one ready,¡¯ he said, tapping the ring box with a finger. ¡®Give me this.¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯ I sat up straight. ¡®No, I¡ª¡¯


    That ring was from my grandmother.


    She¡¯d left it to me.


    I¡¯d nned to keep it, maybe redesign it one day.


    Definitely not give it away.


    ¡®Let¡¯s see what it is,¡¯ he said.


    I opened the box.


    The gold band sat quietly inside, old but elegant.


    Not pure gold, it had silvery floral etchings around the band that shimmered if you caught them at the right angle.


    Ashton¡¯s gaze dipped. ¡®This one¡¯s nice.¡¯


    I shrugged. ¡®It¡¯s an old style. Not worth much. Probably not your thing.¡¯


    ¡®But I think it looks good.¡¯


    His tone was easy, casual, like he hadn¡¯t just put me on the spot.


    He didn¡¯t push again.


    Which somehow made it worse.


    Now if I didn¡¯t give it to him, I¡¯d look petty.


    I hesitated. Overthought. Stared at his annoyingly handsome face while he sat there pretending to be totally chill.


    When the silence stretched too long, he said, ¡®If the ring¡¯s too valuable and you¡¯d rather get something else for me, I understand. It¡¯s fine.¡¯


    I turned to look at him.


    Too valuable?


    He must be kidding, and he knew it.


    The ne he gave me was worth a hundred of this ring.


    His face was calm, same as always, but there was this... quiet sort of disappointment in his eyes.


    Goddammit.


    I shoved the box towards him. ¡®Fine. But don¡¯t regret it.¡¯


    ¡®I won¡¯t.¡¯ He took the ring, waited, looked at me expectantly.


    When I made no move to put the ring on for him, he slid it onto his ring finger.


    It was a little snug, but still looked good on him, because of course it did.


    I bit down on my lip. ¡®Might be too small. I can get a new one.¡¯


    Ashton held up his hand and turned it, checking it out like he¡¯d just scored something off a private auction. ¡®Fits fine.¡¯


    ¡®...Right.¡¯


    The engine kicked on.


    I told him to drop me at Nyx Collective.


    On the way, I said, ¡®You don¡¯t have to keep calling me Miss Vance, by the way. Especially not in front of people. If we¡¯re doing this fake marriage thing, we might as wellmit to the bit.¡¯


    Ashton nced at me, the corner of his mouth twitching. ¡®What should I call you instead? Mrs Laurent?¡¯


    I rolled my eyes. ¡®Just call me by my name.¡¯


    He nodded. ¡®Mirabelle? Or... Mira?¡¯


    I felt that.


    Like¡ªactual physical reaction.


    Full-body static, tingly as hell.


    Just one word and my brain went straight to the gutter¡ªlike, zero detours.


    I could totally picture him saying my name like that in bed, slow and low, all heat and hands and messed-up sheets.


    I mped my legs together on reflex and stared hard out the car window, praying he hadn¡¯t seen my face go up in mes.


    ¡®Yeah... Mira¡¯s.... Mira¡¯s fine.¡¯


    We were about halfway there when he asked, ¡®Still not doing the wedding?¡¯


    ¡®Wedding?¡¯ I blinked. ¡®Yeah. Still a no.¡¯


    This whole thing was a contract with a one-year expiry date.


    A wedding reception would¡¯ve turned it into front-page fodder for weeks.


    He went quiet for a second, then said, ¡®Alright. Whatever you want.¡¯


    The mention of wedding reminded me of why he¡¯d agreed to go along.


    I turned to him. ¡®When are we visiting your grandfather?¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯


    ¡®You said he wanted to see you get married before he... I¡¯d have thought he¡¯d want to meet me.¡¯


    ¡®That... Right, he would love to meet you. I¡¯ll talk to his, ah, doctors and see about arranging a visit.¡¯


    ¡®Is he staying at a hospital then?¡¯


    ¡®A sanatorium. His condition doesn¡¯t permit him to move about much.¡¯


    ¡®I should bring something. What kind of presents will he like?¡¯


    A smile entered his voice. ¡®Your presence alone with suffice to make his day. That, and the wedding certificate.¡¯


    ¡®Got it.¡¯ I couldn¡¯t tear my eyes off the rearview mirror.


    The pendant ne looked like something I¡¯d have designed in a fever dream¡ªif I had fifty years of experience, a royal jeweller for a mentor, and spent my childhood ying dress-up with the Crown Jewels.


    The car slowed as we neared Nyx Collective.


    ¡®Give me a sec.¡¯ I took out the marriage certificate, snapped a couple photos.


    Ashton nced over.


    I gave a sheepish grin. ¡®Promised Yvaine I¡¯d text her as soon as we got it done. Forgot earlier.¡¯


    He just hummed.


    Once the car stopped, I jumped out.


    As I walked off, I caught a glimpse of Ashton still sitting there, holding his own certificate like he was reading between the lines.

 Chapter 45 - 46 Ashton’s POV: Celebration, Low-key Style

    <h4>Chapter 45: Chapter 46 Ashton¡¯s POV: Celebration, Low-key Style</h4>


    Ashton watched Mira snap photos of the marriage certificate.


    When she mentioned Yvaine, he had the dumbest thought: I want to show someone too.


    That¡¯s how he ended up calling Cassian Langford.


    ¡®Drinks tonight. The Rookery. Nine.¡¯


    At 9.02 p.m., Cassian was there in their usual private room, already half a bottle deep and bitching.


    ¡®You ghost me yesterday, drag me out tonight, and now we¡¯re just... sitting? Mate, what¡¯s the deal? And where¡¯s the rest of the crew?¡¯


    Ashton barely opened his mouth when Cassian suggested, ¡®Should I call in a couple waiters to y Omaha or something? This is tragic.¡¯


    ¡®Go ahead.¡¯


    Two waiters came in and shuffled cards.


    Ashton sat to Cassian¡¯s left, casually cing his right hand on the table.


    Right in Cassian¡¯s line of sight.


    The ring wasn¡¯t just visible¡ªit practically screamed.


    Cassian squinted. ¡®What the hell¡¯s that on your hand?¡¯


    ¡®A ring. Just got it today. Haven¡¯t resized it yet.¡¯


    Cassian tossed back his drink. ¡®Who gave you a ring?¡¯


    ¡®My wife.¡¯


    ¡®Your¡ªwait¡ªyour what?¡¯


    Cassian shot upright like the chair was electrocuted.


    ¡®Did you hit your head? Are you high? Who the fuck is your wife?¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s lips twitched.


    He pulled the marriage certificate¡ªnowminated¡ªfrom his inner jacket pocket and slid it across the table like it was an ace of spades.


    Cassian stared for a full thirty seconds.


    Then he picked it up gingerly with two fingers like it might explode.


    ¡®Mirabelle Vance?¡¯ he read, syble by syble.


    His eyes zed over.


    One hand went to his temple like he was about to faint.


    ¡®Have I forgotten how to read? Is this real?¡¯


    Ashton snatched the certificate back before the grease from Cassian¡¯s fingers got any ideas.


    He tucked it away with care.


    ¡®You read it right.¡¯


    Cassian let out a howl that shook the chandelier. ¡®You are married?!¡¯


    Ashton took azy sip of his whisky. ¡®Why? Jealous?¡¯


    ¡®Jealous? Mate, I¡¯m traumatised!¡¯


    Cassian dropped into his chair like his legs had given out, arms sprawled on either side as he stared at Ashton like he¡¯d sprouted an alien head.


    ¡®Have you lost your bloody mind? Everyone and their therapist knows Mirabelle Vance is tangled up with Rhys Granger. And you married her? I thought you were gonna die single. You didn¡¯t even breathe a word to me before signing the damn papers?¡¯


    Ashton flicked him a look like he was slow-witted. ¡®She and Rhys broke up ages ago. Called off the engagement. Why can¡¯t I marry her? What, you want her to wear widow¡¯s weeds for life?¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s not what I¡ª¡¯ Cassian grabbed the ss of water like it was vodka and chugged half of it. ¡®But how the hell did this even happen? Don¡¯t tell me she conned you.¡¯


    ¡®She didn¡¯t con me,¡¯ Ashton said coolly. ¡®I conned her.¡¯


    Cassian froze. ¡®Come again? You conned her? How?¡¯


    ¡®I told her my family¡¯s been harassing me to get married.¡¯


    Cassian flung his arms up like a referee calling foul. ¡®Who in the Laurent dynasty would dare harass you? You¡¯re just out here lying to innocent women for sport now?¡¯


    Ashton caressed the ring on his finger. ¡®I also said my grandfather¡¯s dying. Guilt-tripped her for sympathy points.¡¯


    Cassian¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡®Your grandfather¡¯s got chronic gout, not terminal cancer. When was he dying?¡¯


    ¡®He dies when I need him to.¡¯


    Cassian stared at him in silence.


    Honestly, what the fuck.


    ¡®You¡¯re a psychopath. A literal viin. This is fraud. You should be in prison.¡¯


    Ashton let out a dismissive snort through his nose.


    He didn¡¯t even try to deny it.


    Cassian suddenly sprang forward. ¡®Hold up. This doesn¡¯t make any sense. You¡¯ve been hung up on someone for years and suddenly¡ªpoof¡ªover it in a week back home?¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s mouth curved. ¡®I didn¡¯t get over her.¡¯


    ¡®Wait... what?¡¯ Cassian¡¯s brows nearly hit his hairline.


    Ashton leaned back. ¡®It¡¯s her. Mirabelle.¡¯


    Cassian stared, fully nking for a second. ¡®Mirabelle? I thought the girl you were obsessed with was in Italy. You told me so yourself.¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯s not from Italy. She went to Italy. That¡¯s where I met her.¡¯


    Cassian flung an arm out and waved away the two waiters. ¡®Out. Door. Now.¡¯


    They scrambled.


    He mmed the door shut.


    ¡®Poker¡¯s off?¡¯ Ashton deadpanned.


    ¡®Screw poker. Start talking.¡¯


    Ashton chuckled under his breath. ¡®It was Florence. Seven years ago. I met her at an international jewellery designpetition.¡¯


    Cassian blinked. ¡®Seven years¡ªwait, that means she was what, sixteen, seventeen? Jesus. You were¡ªdude, you were an adult. That¡¯s¡ª¡¯


    Ashton smacked his arm.


    Not hard. Just enough to shut him up.


    ¡®Ow! Assault!¡¯


    ¡®She was still in school. Finalist in the under-twenty category. I was there as a sponsor. We spoke for maybe five seconds. That was it.¡¯


    Cassian grabbed the bottle, poured one for Ashton, then himself. ¡®So what, it was love at first sight?¡¯


    Ashton stared at the ss. Then shook his head. ¡®No. Not love. Not then. She was¡ªalmost grown, but still figuring herself out. I remembered her, yeah. But it didn¡¯t hit me then. Not really.¡¯


    ¡®So when did it?¡¯


    ¡®Second time. Eindhoven.¡¯


    Cassian clicked his fingers. ¡®I remember. You¡¯d already built a damn empire in Europe. Moved your headquarters to Eindhoven, right?¡¯ He nudged Ashton with a smirk. ¡®And I remember the queue of men and women lining up to get in your bed. Some even tried flirting with me, thinking I was the side door to the main event.¡¯


    Ashton scoffed.


    Yeah, Cassian wasn¡¯t wrong.


    Back then, Ashton had been in his mid-twenties, drowning in attention from people who saw his money and assumed he was easy prey.


    He was young. Alone in Europe. Surrounded by staff, assistants, hangers-on¡ªbut no family, no safety.


    Even with all his paranoia, there¡¯d been moments when his guard slipped.


    One night, it did.


    It was a party.


    Fancy venue, expensive wine, fake smiles.


    He¡¯d been careful¡ªhe was always careful¡ªbut someone still managed to drug his drink.


    He¡¯d fought through it, barely stayed on his feet, stumbled out of the hotel like a drunk boxer in the twelfth round.


    And ran straight into her.

 Chapter 46 - 47 Ashton’s POV: Marriage Is Just Step One

    <h4>Chapter 46: Chapter 47 Ashton¡¯s POV: Marriage Is Just Step One</h4>


    Cassian frowned. ¡®Hold on. I visited you a couple times in Eindhoven. You never said you knew Mirabelle. I never even heard you mention her name.¡¯


    ¡®I didn¡¯t know it was her,¡¯ Ashton said.


    All he remembered from that night was the woman¡ªwarm skin, steady arms¡ªwho must¡¯ve figured out something was wrong with him.


    She¡¯d taken him to the hospital. Paid the bill.


    Then disappeared.


    ¡®When I woke up,¡¯ Ashton said, ¡®she was already gone.¡¯


    Cassian blinked. ¡®So how the hell did you know it was her?¡¯


    ¡®I had my assistant look into it.¡¯


    The moment he saw the photo¡ªMirabelle Vance, design student at Eindhoven University¡ªhe knew.


    That was her.


    The girl from Florence.


    The one with the quiet fire in her eyes.


    Cassian leaned in, eyes gleaming. ¡®And then? You tracked her down and asked her out?¡¯


    ¡®You got the first part right.¡¯


    He did track her down. Had to.


    But he never approached her.


    Not then.


    There were too many eyes on him. Too many knives out.


    He didn¡¯t want her anywhere near the st zone.


    Then business exploded.


    His life turned into airports, mergers, new markets.


    By the time he could think about her again, she was back in Skyline City.


    And engaged to Rhys bloody Granger.


    Still, he couldn¡¯t forget her.


    Cassian drained his drink and pped his own forehead. ¡®Wait! So all those calls you made to me, pretending you cared about gossip¡ªSkyline¡¯s charity gs, who wore what, who was dating who¡ªthat was all about her?¡¯


    Ashton gave him a look. ¡®Since when do you know me to give a shit about gossip?¡¯


    Cassian barked augh. ¡®Ha. So you weren¡¯t just nosing around Skyline¡¯s corporate scene. You were low-key stalking Mirabelle.¡¯


    ¡®It wasn¡¯t stalking.¡¯


    ¡®Right,¡¯ Cassian drawled. ¡®Younded back in Skyline less than twenty-four hours after I mentioned the rumours. Not suspicious at all.¡¯


    Ashton didn¡¯t reply.


    The moment Cassian told him what he¡¯d heard¡ªthat things between Mirabelle and Rhys Granger were spiralling, that Granger had his eye on someone else, that he¡¯d only proposed because his family twisted his arm¡ªAshton felt something crack open inside him.


    Something dark and stupid andpletely impossible to ignore.


    She wasn¡¯t happy.


    She wasn¡¯t living the glossy, charmed life he¡¯d imagined.


    And that changed everything.


    He hadn¡¯t nned oning back.


    He¡¯d built a whole empire from scratch, all of it his own, none of it tainted by his family¡¯s meddling hand.


    But the second he heard Rhys Granger might be out of the picture, he was on the next flight back.


    Everything that followed was scripted. Controlled. Calcted.


    Mirabelle¡ªsharp, lovely, frustratingly trusting¡ªended up married to him in less time than it took most people to choose a phone n.


    A few conversations, a little emotional pressure, and the perfect storm of heartbreak and rebound... boom. Married.


    Of course, he knew she wasn¡¯t over Granger. Not really.


    He wasn¡¯t an idiot.


    She hadn¡¯t married him because she loved him.


    She¡¯d married him because she was cornered, and he¡¯d offered her a way out.


    But love could be built. Brick by brick. Kiss by kiss.


    He¡¯d take the cracks Rhys left behind and fill them with gold if that¡¯s what it took.


    He didn¡¯t care how long it took.


    Cassian was two bottles deep and halfway through his third by the time it finally sank in¡ªthis wasn¡¯t a prank.


    Ashton Laurent, their resident forever-bachelor, had actually gone and got himself hitched.


    Not fake-married. Not some stunt. Married-married.


    The smug bastard didn¡¯t stop at shing the ring either.


    He¡¯d pulled out the marriage certificate like it was a business card.


    Stamped, signed, government-issued.


    Looked legit enough, at least to Cassian¡¯s booze-blurred eyes.


    ¡®Congrats, I guess,¡¯ Cassian muttered. ¡®If it makes you happy. You finally bagged the girl.¡¯


    Ashton clinked sses with him. ¡®I am happy.¡¯


    Cassian pped a palm to his forehead. ¡®Bloody hell, I knew something was off. You moved too fast! I didn¡¯t even get to throw you a stag do.¡¯


    ¡®You know I don¡¯t care about that sort of thing.¡¯


    ¡®Mate. It¡¯s not for you. It¡¯s for us¡ªyour mates¡ªto gather and mourn your freedom. A symbolic send-off before you¡¯re locked in the eternal tomb of marriage.¡¯


    Ashton just shrugged. ¡®I¡¯ll live.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah, but what about the wedding?¡¯ Cassian waved a hand at the paper. ¡®Sure, that cert looks all official, but you¡¯re not about to sh it every time someone asks if you¡¯re single. You need a reception.¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s smile dipped. ¡®There¡¯s no wedding.¡¯


    Cassian squinted. ¡®What, like... is that a new thing now? No ceremony? Not even a quiet one at City Hall with the fam?¡¯


    ¡®She doesn¡¯t want a wedding.¡¯


    Cassian snorted. ¡®Every girl wants a wedding. That¡¯s literally what the industry was invented for.¡¯


    ¡®Maybe.¡¯


    Ashton remembered those bridal magazines stacked on Mirabelle¡¯s kitchen counter in her old apartment.


    The bookmarked dress pages.


    The notes on flowerbos.


    She¡¯d tossed everything out when she moved.


    Cassian gave him a nudge, half-drunk. ¡®You sure about the whole no wedding thing?¡¯


    ¡®Not for now.¡¯


    But there would be one.


    That was the n.


    If he yed his cards right¡ªand didn¡¯t piss her off too much in the meantime¡ªthere¡¯d be vows.


    There¡¯d be flowers.


    There¡¯d be Mirabelle in white, walking toward him for real this time.


    Cassian burped. Loudly. ¡®No wedding, no gift, yeah? That¡¯s how this works. No open bar, no obligation. I don¡¯t get to chat up the bridesmaids, you don¡¯t get a toaster.¡¯


    ¡®Fine. You¡¯re off the hook for the gift.¡¯ Ashton leaned forward. ¡®But I need you to do something for me.¡¯


    Cassian perked up like a retriever. ¡®Anything, bro.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re a gossip.¡¯


    Cassian looked wounded. ¡®Excuse you. I¡¯m a high-end information distributor.¡¯


    ¡®Whatever. I need you to do your thing. Start leaking the news. Casual-like. When you¡¯re chatting to people, just drop it in¡ª¡°Oh, didn¡¯t you hear? Ashton and Mirabelle got married. Someone saw them at the clerk¡¯s office.¡± That sort of thing.¡¯


    Cassian blinked. ¡®You want me to start a rumour? But I thought you wanted to keep it low profile. Hence no wedding.¡¯


    That wasn¡¯t his call.


    That was Mirabelle¡¯s request.


    No big ssh, no media circus, no kiss-the-bride headlines.


    Ashton had respected that.


    But he needed her to start seeing this marriage not as a temporary contract, not as an expediency, but as real.


    Permanent.


    A done fucking deal.


    He looked Cassian dead in the eye. ¡®Just do it.¡¯

 Chapter 47 - 48 Midnight Oil

    <h4>Chapter 47: Chapter 48 Midnight Oil</h4>


    I stayedte at Nyx Collective.


    Midnightte.


    Everyone else had bailed hours ago, but I was still at my desk, hunched over myptop.


    Technically, I was working.


    Realistically? I was hiding.


    From Ashton.


    From the terrifying possibility that he might suggest we consummate our brand-new, totally normal, definitely not weird marriage with a roll in the hay.


    Because I was scared I¡¯d say yes without blinking.


    Or worse¡ªwhat if I was the one to bring it up?


    Sure, we were legally husband and wife now.


    But the only time we¡¯d actually slept together, I¡¯d been ckout drunk and didn¡¯t even know his name.


    Still, from the fragments I did remember, he¡¯d been... insane. Stupidly good.


    The kind of good that ruins porn for you.


    Like, knew what to do with his lips and hands and tongue and you-know-what good.


    And okay, yes, my libido wanted an encore.


    A sober one.


    But the rest of me was terrified I¡¯de on too strong, act like some unhinged nympho, and scare him off.


    I mean, I did rip his shirt that night.


    That¡¯s not exactly first-date energy.


    He¡¯d been very professional about this whole contract marriage thing.


    So I needed to be professional, too.


    Which is why I was still at Nyx, doodling nonsense on my sketchpad, pretending I cared about bezel settings and chain lengths when really, I just didn¡¯t want to go home.


    Eliza ck wasing in a few days to pick her lead designer.


    No pressure or anything.


    My brain had been tlining all week, but the pendant ne had given me some inspiration which I should jot down before it vanished.


    I¡¯d shut off all the lights except one, because mood lighting helped.


    Close to one o¡¯clock, I¡¯d just stretched and cracked my spine in five ces when I heard the door ease open.


    I turned and cocked an eyebrow.


    What was she doing here?


    Violet Lin had left hours earlier.


    Apparently, she was just as surprised to see me as I was to see her.


    ¡®Oh wow, workingte?¡¯ she said, pulling up short when she saw me stand up.


    I gave her a side-eye, sat back down, clicked my mouse, and shut down the deck I¡¯d been working on.


    She didn¡¯t need to see anything.


    She saw my move and scoffed. ¡®Please. Like I care what you¡¯re working on. We both know you¡¯re just killing yourself over that Eliza ck pitch. I already finished mine. Not that I¡¯d waste my time looking at yours. I will get the project, by the way. You should just quit now. Save yourself the heartbreak. Nothing worse than crying over a dead dream.¡¯


    I turned my chair slowly to face her. Leaned back.


    ¡®If I get it, great. If I don¡¯t, whatever. It¡¯s one project. I don¡¯t treat it like it¡¯s thest golden ticket out of my tragic little life. That level of desperation kinda reeks. If anyone¡¯s crying when Eliza picks someone else, it¡¯s going to be you, sweetheart.¡¯


    Violet¡¯s jaw clenched so hard I half-expected her teeth to crack.


    She stormed closer, heels stabbing the floor like she was trying to kill it.


    ¡®I¡¯m not desperate,¡¯ she hissed. ¡®Even if I don¡¯t get this, I¡¯ve got backup. Unlike you, I¡¯ve got options. I could quit tomorrow and still be fine. Hell, I could buy Nyx Collective if I wanted and fire your smug face just for fun.¡¯


    ¡®Cool. So why are you here at midnight talking to me instead of doing rich-girl Ptes or whatever?¡¯


    Her nostrils red.


    I smiled.


    She didn¡¯t.


    ¡®Your folks made some cash riding the post-pandemic crypto wave. Big whoop. Doesn¡¯t change the fact they¡¯re still new money. If your family had the power you¡¯re flexing, why didn¡¯t they even get an invite to the Laurents¡¯ g, hmm? And while we¡¯re at it, you still haven¡¯t told me how you got in. What was it¡ªsnuck in under the dessert cart?¡¯


    Her face dropped. ¡®You¡ª!¡¯


    ¡®Yes?¡¯


    She red like she was seconds fromunching her Louboutins at me, then hissed, ¡®You¡¯ll regret this,¡¯ and stomped out.


    I watched her go, head tilted.


    A minute after she left, I grabbed my bag and followed.


    Something about her showing up after hours, all flustered, didn¡¯t sit right with me.


    Violet Lin didn¡¯t do unannounced pop-ins without a reason, and her face when she saw me earlier was straight-up guilty.


    I slipped downstairs, low heels silent on the marble.


    She¡¯d already reached the lobby, deep in conversation with one of the security guards.


    I ducked behind the stairwell, the one blind spot in the CCTV coverage, discovered thanks to three months of stayingte and pure paranoia.


    She handed the guy a card.


    Not the kind to ess the building, the kind you swiped on a POS terminal.


    The guard¡ªhis name was Jace, I think¡ªhad startedst month.


    Baby-faced, couldn¡¯t have been more than twenty-five.


    Clean-cut, twitchy, the type who looked like he still apologised when people bumped into him.


    More importantly, not the rich type.


    Normally, Violet wouldn¡¯t chat up someone like him.


    No way she was down here chatting him up for funsies.


    Jace tried to push the card away, but Violet said something too low for me to catch, then he pocketed the card, but not before he darted his eyes around, guilt written all over his face.


    I ducked down before he could see me, and connected the dots.


    Violet was paying him off to erase security footage.


    Only security and management had ess to the surveince tapes.


    If she wanted something wiped, she had to go through him. Or Savannah.


    Which meant her little detour upstairs had been a recon mission¡ªto check if the office was empty and if, by luck, Savannah had forgotten to lock her door.


    But the moment she saw me, she changed her n.


    I waited for her to leave before heading back upstairs to pack up.


    But not before I¡¯d checked my phone and made sure I got what I wanted.

 Chapter 48 - 49 Rhys’s POV: Damage Control

    <h4>Chapter 48: Chapter 49 Rhys¡¯s POV: Damage Control</h4>


    The Granger family living room looked like a war zone¡ªoverturned vases, a half-shattered wine ss bleeding red across the rug, and a smashed photo frame face-down on the floor, ss splinters glittering like shrapnel.


    Clive Granger¡¯s p cracked through the air. ¡®I should¡¯ve had a vasectomy.¡¯


    Rhys winced, hand on his cheek. ¡®I just thought¡ª¡¯


    ¡®You thought?¡¯ Another p. ¡®You thought wrong, dumbass. You said Mirabelle was obsessed with you. That she¡¯d still marry you even if you were screwing your way through Skyline. And now what? She¡¯s walked. You couldn¡¯t even keep a woman. Jesus, Rhys, I can¡¯t walk anywhere without someone stopping me to ask about you and Catherine Vane. Everyone knows.¡¯


    ¡®Um, we never actually told anyone about¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Bullshit!¡¯ Clive¡¯s palm met skin again.


    Rhys¡¯s head snapped sideways.


    He didn¡¯t fight back. Wouldn¡¯t dare.


    Not when his dad looked one blood vessel away from a cardiac arrest.


    ¡®You think people are blind?¡¯ Clive yelled. ¡®You embarrassed this family at the Laurents¡¯ party. Hell, even their dog probably knows what you¡¯ve been up to. And now you¡¯re standing there pretending like you¡¯ve been all discreet and under the radar? Pathetic.¡¯


    Rhys just stood there, head bowed.


    Clive turned on Louisa next. ¡®And you just handed over the ring? Are you out of your mind? That thing was the only leverage we had. She gives it back, wedding¡¯s officially dead.¡¯


    Louisa crossed her arms. ¡®She brought the marriage certificate. What do you expect me to do¡ªeat the paper and pretend it never existed?¡¯


    Clive mmed the table so hard the crystal tray jumped. ¡®Mirabelle Vance is a brat. Getting secretly married? She clearly thinks our family¡¯s a joke. Did her parents forget to teach her basic respect?¡¯


    Louisa sat down. ¡®Don¡¯t drag Mira into this. You know damn well who the problem is. If your golden boy wasn¡¯t out ying sugar daddy to every influencer with a fake tan, maybe Mirabelle wouldn¡¯t have snapped. You want someone to me? Look in the mirror. He¡¯s your clone, Clive¡ªarrogant, spoiled, and dumb enough to light a match in a gas leak.¡¯


    Clive¡¯s mouth opened, then shut.


    Louisa¡¯s eyes were drilling holes into her husband. ¡®Rhys clearly inherited your talent for screwing around.¡¯


    Clive looked away. ¡®What kind of nonsense is that supposed to be?¡¯


    ¡®You kept a side piece for years,¡¯ Louisa said with a bitter littleugh. ¡®And surprise, surprise, your son turned out just like you.¡¯


    ¡®You¡ª¡¯ Clive¡¯s voice cracked like old wood.


    Willow jumped in. ¡®Mum, stop. Dad cut things off with that woman ages ago.¡¯


    Louisa¡¯s eyes glossed over with rage.


    She jerked her arm free from Willow¡¯s grip.


    Willow tried again, desperate now. ¡®The problem isn¡¯t some ancient fling. It¡¯s that Mirabelle married someone else. That¡¯s why Dad¡¯s losing it.¡¯


    ¡®And she bloody well should have!¡¯ Louisa hissed. ¡®She¡¯s too good for your brother anyway.¡¯


    Rhys gave Willow a look, one of those silent ¡®get her out of here before someone has an aneurysm¡¯ expressions.


    Willow caught it and looped an arm around Louisa.


    ¡®Mum,e upstairs. Doc said you shouldn¡¯t get worked up again so soon after getting out of the hospital. Why don¡¯t youe and see something I¡¯ve got? I went to that new spa today, and they gave me a face mask that¡¯s basically Botox in a jar. You¡¯ve got to try it.¡¯


    She hustled Louisa out, talking about serums and cogen like their family wasn¡¯t currently imploding.


    As soon as they¡¯d disappeared upstairs, Clive turned to Rhys. ¡®My study. Now.¡¯


    ¡®Mirabelle¡¯s married,¡¯ Clive said as soon as the study door was shut. ¡®The wedding¡¯s off. Invitations are already out. How do you n on cleaning up this circus?¡¯


    Rhys stared at the mahogany desk like it had answers. ¡®I¡¯ll just... tell everyone it¡¯s cancelled?¡¯


    Clive looked ready to strangle him with a Herm¨¨s tie. ¡®The whole of Skyline City thinks you cheated on her. Do you have any idea what this does to the Granger name?¡¯


    Rhys shrugged. ¡®We¡¯ll survive. We¡¯ve survived worse.¡¯


    In his head, he still believed his mum had a point¡ªif his dad could parade a mistress around back in the day and still close deals like nothing happened, why was everyone acting like his thing with Catherine was some moral apocalypse?


    At least Catherine was his actual soulmate.


    Mirabelle had been forced on him by his parents, a fianc¨¦e he¡¯d never even wanted.


    Now that Mirabelle was out and Catherine was back, everything felt right again. Bnced.


    Like the universe had finally course-corrected.


    Rhys genuinely didn¡¯t get what all the fuss was about.


    Clive let out a loud, weary sigh.


    A sigh filled with disappointment.


    Rhys didn¡¯t miss it.


    If anything, it fuelled the slow-burn fury he¡¯d been stewing in all day.


    It was all Mirabelle¡¯s fault, really.


    She hadn¡¯t even given him a warning before she¡¯d gone and married herself off.


    Like, what the hell?


    She used to follow him around like a puppy in heels.


    Wide eyes, soft voice, always so eager to please.


    Even when he messed up¡ªespecially when he messed up¡ªshe forgave him with this ridiculous belief that he¡¯d eventually grow up.


    And now she was someone else¡¯s wife.


    Rhys¡¯s jaw clenched.


    His fingers drummed on the edge of the armchair like they were itching to hit something.


    Fine. She wanted to y dirty?


    So could he.


    His dad finally spoke. ¡®Thanks to your personal soap opera, people are saying the Grangers don¡¯t honour deals. That we break promises. Three contracts dead in the water this month.¡¯


    He looked at his only son. ¡®Now do you see what the big deal is?¡¯

 Chapter 49 - 50 Rhys’s POV: Shift the Story

    <h4>Chapter 49: Chapter 50 Rhys¡¯s POV: Shift the Story</h4>


    Rhys¡¯s head whipped up. ¡®That¡¯s not on us. I didn¡¯t cancel the wedding. Nor did I say I wouldn¡¯t marry her. She¡¯s the one who ran off and got married.¡¯


    Clive swore. ¡®Sure. But the bit where you were screwing your ex-girlfriend while still engaged to Mirabelle, that part wasn¡¯t private. Everyone thinks she left because you cheated.¡¯


    Rhys¡¯s mouth stayed shut this time.


    Fine, maybe he had been a bit hasty in getting back together with Catherine.


    But he¡¯d figured Mirabelle would throw a fit, shed some tears.


    He didn¡¯t think she¡¯d actually leave.


    Clive leaned back. ¡®The engagement¡¯s off. Fine. But we¡¯re not taking the fall for this.¡¯


    Rhys looked up, hopeful. ¡®What does that mean?¡¯


    ¡®We shift the story. Say she cheated first. Say she couldn¡¯t wait, jumped ship, married the first man who winked at her. You¡¯re the loyal one. The victim.¡¯


    ¡®I... I thought you liked her.¡¯


    Clive red at his son. ¡®I did, but I like my reputation intact and my investments protected more.¡¯


    Rhys licked his lips. ¡®You do realise the guy she married is a Laurent. If we start spinning this, doesn¡¯t that make him the other man? Ashton¡¯s not exactly gonna let that slide.¡¯


    ¡®We don¡¯t say who. Just that Mirabelle cheated. Keep the guy out of it.¡¯ Clive sneered. ¡®Do you honestly think Ashton married her for love?¡¯


    ¡®Of course not,¡¯ Rhys said immediately.


    There was no world where someone like Ashton willingly chose a girl like Mirabelle.


    Clive gave a thin smile. ¡®They got the licence quietly. No press, no photos. The Laurents haven¡¯t said a word. That means Ashton doesn¡¯t want to acknowledge the marriage publicly. Doesn¡¯t want to acknowledge her. If the vulturese for her, he probably won¡¯t lift a finger.¡¯


    His tone turned calcting. ¡®As long as we don¡¯t name Ashton, all the dirt willnd on her. That¡¯s the only way to clean the Granger name. You get that, right?¡¯


    Rhys nodded slowly. ¡®Yeah. I get it.¡¯


    ¡®Good. Meanwhile, you stay away from Catherine. Keep your head down. Look heartbroken. Let people think Mirabelle¡¯s the one who wronged you. y the wounded ex. You can at least manage that, can¡¯t you?¡¯


    Rhys muttered, ¡®Yeah... sure.¡¯


    He left the Granger townhouse fuming.


    All of this was Mirabelle¡¯s fault.


    Who the hell gave her permission to dump him first?


    If anyone was ending that engagement, it should¡¯ve been him.


    She stole his thunder.


    ¡®If you did it to piss me off,¡¯ he muttered to himself, ¡®congrats, babe. Goal achieved.¡¯


    When he got back to his penthouse, Catherine was lounging on the cream leather sofa in his hoodie, scrolling on her phone.


    ¡®You should skip the office this week,¡¯ Rhys said without preamble, dumping his keys on the counter. ¡®Actually, screw it, take a trip. Paris, Bali, wherever. Just leave Skyline for a while.¡¯


    Catherine looked up, surprised. ¡®Why?¡¯


    ¡®Because we need to chill. My parents are breathing down my neck. People are watching.¡¯


    Her smile started to crack at the edges. ¡®But I thought you¡¯d talk to your parents, tell them you and Mirabelle are done. That you¡¯re with me now.¡¯


    ¡®Just do what I say,¡¯ he snapped.


    ¡®But I¡ª¡¯


    He red at her.


    ¡®France sounds lovely.¡¯ She swallowed her objection. ¡®But for how long?¡¯


    Rhys came over and gave her cheek a light pinch. ¡®That¡¯s what I love about you. You don¡¯t kick up a fuss.¡¯


    She smiled.


    He stood up. ¡®What¡¯s for dinner?¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯ She was thrown. ¡®I, ah, I thought you were gonna eat with your parents. I didn¡¯t¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Never mind. Just order me some takeout.¡¯ He went into the bathroom and took a shower.


    When he came out, Catherine said, ¡®Food¡¯s arriving in fifteen minutes.¡¯


    ¡®That long?¡¯ He frowned. ¡®You should¡¯ve ordered from the restaurant across the street.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll remember that next time.¡¯


    Padding over to the fridge, he hunted down an orange and tossed it to Catherine. ¡®Peel this, will you?¡¯


    She did.


    He¡¯d just popped a few orange slices into his mouth when his stomach cramped hard.


    Sharp, twisting, like someone hadced the fruit with knives.


    ¡®Shit,¡¯ he muttered, pressing a hand to his abdomen.


    ¡®Gastritis acting up again?¡¯ Catherine jumped up. ¡®Where¡¯s your med?¡¯


    He pointed to the bathroom.


    She rushed in and came out thirty secondster. ¡®Here, take these. And if it gets worse, we¡¯re going straight to the hospital.¡¯


    She plonked the H2 blockers and a ss of water down in front of him.


    Rhys stared at them.


    Catherine sat down, her job done. ¡®Must be the stress getting to you. Maybe you shoulde to France with me. You know, clear your head, get a break from Mirabelle. Seriously, I don¡¯t get what she¡¯s ying at. Marrying some random guy just to get under your skin? Pathetic.¡¯


    Rhys was barely listening.


    He stared at the blister pack, made a move to reach it, but groaned when a fresh wave of agony hit him.


    Mirabelle used to do this too¡ªonly different.


    She¡¯d crack the pills out of the blister pack and ce them in his mouth.


    Then she¡¯d tip the water to his lips, hand on his back to keep him anchored.


    All he had to do was lie there and swallow.


    Catherine didn¡¯t do any of that.


    She hadn¡¯t even opened the damn foil.


    Rhys didn¡¯t say anything.


    Wouldn¡¯t be fair to go off over something this minor.


    Still. It bugged him.


    ¡®Rhys? Are you listening?¡¯ Catherine waved a hand in front of his face. ¡®I was thinking... which part of France should I even go to? I¡¯m bored of Paris, Cannes was too humid, and Saint-Tropez¡¯s full of influencers. Maybe somewhere low-key, like Biarritz?¡¯


    ¡®Whatever,¡¯ he muttered.


    ¡®Hmm? Or should I just borrow your family¡¯s chateau in Bordeaux again? Thoughts?¡¯


    ¡®Wherever you want to go is fine,¡¯ he said. ¡®Just go check online for tickets.¡¯


    The second Catherine hit the shower, Rhys grabbed his phone, found her number, hit call.


    If Mirabelle answered and apologised¡ªfine.


    He could let go of the whole quickie marriage stunt.


    Ashton could be her rebound or whatever.


    Once she got over herself and filed the divorce papers, there was still a spot waiting for her.


    He was still willing to give her the title of Mrs Granger despite all the trouble she¡¯d stirred up.


    As long as she didn¡¯t expect affection or bedtime cuddles, they¡¯d be just fine.


    The call didn¡¯t go through, went straight to busy tone.


    Rhys blinked.


    Then remembered¡ªoh. She¡¯d blocked him. Again.


    He dialled Yvaine next.


    One ring.


    Click. Call ended.


    What the hell?


    He called again.


    This time it didn¡¯t even ring. Straight to voicemail.


    He was blocked.


    ¡®Fuck!¡¯ he shouted, hurling the phone across the room.


    Next morning, he sent someone to stake out Nyx Collective.


    Wait for Mirabelle to leave work. Follow her. Get a location.


    By sunset, he had it.


    He drove to Oakwood Apartments, some mid-rise thing near the park.


    On the way there, he called in a favour, pulled a few strings, got ess to the building and a lift pass to her floor.


    He got in the lift.

 Chapter 50 - 51 Midnight Visit

    <h4>Chapter 50: Chapter 51 Midnight Visit</h4>


    I was half-dead on the couch, scrolling through dog videos for inspiration, when someone started pounding on the door.


    I didn¡¯t order food. Yvaine wasn¡¯ting tonight.


    And you needed a building pass just to get on my floor, so that left...


    Sighing, I opened the door.


    Yep. Rhys Granger, looking like someone had pissed in his Cristal.


    ¡®Nope,¡¯ I said immediately and went to m it shut.


    He shoved a foot in. ¡®You dodging me now? I¡¯ve got something to say!¡¯


    ¡®Say it. Then leave.¡¯


    ¡®If you married that guy just to spite me, you win. Fine. You win. I¡¯m here now. You got what you wanted.¡¯


    Iughed. ¡®You think I got married to piss you off?¡¯


    ¡®Didn¡¯t you?¡¯ he said, jaw tight. ¡®You¡¯ve been into me since we were kids. You don¡¯t just flip a switch and stop. Everything you¡¯re doing right now is just a game.¡¯


    Oh, for fuck¡¯s sake.


    I folded my arms. ¡®Rhys, the day you let my darling sister crawl into yourp at that bar was the day I stopped liking you. Yeah, I used to be an idiot. But I¡¯m not anymore. So let me make this crystal clear.¡¯


    He blinked.


    I leaned forward.


    ¡®I. Am. Married. I have a husband. A real one. Not a maybe-one-day-if-you-behave ceholder. You and I? We¡¯re nothing. I don¡¯t love you. I don¡¯t even like you now. Got it? Is that enough closure for you?¡¯


    Rhys just stood there, shoulders slumped, mouth half-open.


    Good. Let it sting.


    His breathing went weird, like someone had stuffed a sock down his throat.


    ¡®No. No way. You can¡¯t not love me.¡¯ He sounded like a broken chatbot. ¡®You marrying Ashton Laurent? That was the real joke. You think the heir to the Laurent empire¡¯s actually gonna fall for you? Maybe he yed along for now ¡®cause you ckmailed him or whatever, but once hees to his senses, you won¡¯t even know what hit you before you¡¯re out on your arse¡ªor dead.¡¯


    I looked up at the ceiling, praying for patience.


    Why the hell did I never notice how exhausting it was just talking to Rhys?


    I¡¯d said what I needed to say.


    I wasn¡¯t wasting another breath.


    ¡®Do note back here,¡¯ I said, then turned and mmed the door¡ª


    Well, I tried to m it.


    Except his foot was still in the gap.


    There was a solid ¡®crunch¡¯.


    Followed by the kind of scream that made my neighbours probably reach for their phones.


    ¡®AAAAAHH!! My foot!! Mirabelle, are you trying to murder me?!¡¯


    I nced down.


    His polished leather shoe had a dent, but I didn¡¯t see blood or bone fragments.


    ¡®Move it,¡¯ I said coolly. ¡®Or next time I¡¯ll snap the whole damn thing.¡¯


    ¡®No!¡¯ Rhys gritted his teeth and clung to the doorframe.


    He grabbed my wrist hard and yanked me out into the hallway. ¡®You think you can just shut the door on me? I¡¯m not done talking!¡¯


    ¡®Let go of me!¡¯ I twisted, tried to pull free, but his grip was vice-tight.


    I could feel it pressing straight into the bone. ¡®Rhys! You¡¯re hurting me, you lunatic!¡¯


    He didn¡¯t reply. Like he¡¯d gone full zombie mode and couldn¡¯t hear me.


    Worse¡ªhe started dragging me towards the lift. ¡®You¡¯reing home with me!¡¯


    ¡®The hell I am! Let go!¡¯


    I was debating if kneeing him in the groin was worth the trip to the police station when the lift let out a cheerful ¡®ding¡¯.


    Ashton strode out, pulled up short at the sight of us, then picked up his pace.


    He was right in front of me in a matter of seconds andnded a punch straight into Rhys¡¯s face.


    Rhys made this choked-up sound, somewhere between a yelp and a dying pigeon.


    Then Ashton grabbed his shirt cor with one hand and mped down on Rhys¡¯s wrist with the other.


    Yanked him clean off me like peeling off a cheap sticker.


    ¡®Who the fuck are you?!¡¯ Rhys gasped, hunched over like a kicked bin.


    He looked dazed, probably couldn¡¯t see past the cartoon stars circling his head.


    Ashton¡¯s voice came down like a guillotine: ¡®Lay a hand on her again, and I¡¯ll kill you.¡¯


    Rhys spat out a mouthful of blood.


    He tried squinting up at the neer¡¯s face.


    I knew the moment he¡¯d recognised Ashton, because he flinched.


    And I couldn¡¯t me him.


    Even I was a little scared.


    Ashton had delivered his threat in a perfectly calm voice, and something told me he¡¯d have no trouble carrying it out.


    Rhys, for all his puffed-up ego, couldn¡¯t even stand straight.


    Panicking, he backed away a step and shouted, as if volume could make up for hisck of balls, ¡®Mirabelle is my fianc¨¦e! What I do with her is none of your business!¡¯


    Thatst part came out about three decibels softer than the rest.


    Even Rhys himself didn¡¯t believe it.


    Ashton took a step forward.


    Rhys scrambled back farther.


    Ashton parked himself right in front of me like a six-foot human wall.


    ¡®Mirabelle is my wife. You show up at my ce in the middle of the night harassing her, and you think that¡¯s got nothing to do with me?¡¯


    Rhys swallowed. Loud.


    I could hear it from behind Ashton¡¯s shoulder.


    Even when he straightened up and tried to match Ashton¡¯s height, he still had to tip his chin just to make eye contact.


    ¡®You didn¡¯t marry her willingly, right? If she¡¯s got something on you¡ªpictures, whatever¡ªI can help. She ckmailed you, didn¡¯t she?¡¯


    Wow. Willow Granger really had him out here reading off a script.


    They¡¯d convinced themselves I¡¯d somehow ckmailed Ashton into marrying me.


    What did they think I had on him? Dick pics? The nuclearunch codes?


    I poked my head out from behind Ashton. ¡®You are delusional.¡¯


    Gently, Ashton nudged me back.


    The next second, his fist connected with Rhys¡¯s other cheek. Dead centre.


    Now his face was finally symmetrical. Swollen on both sides like a rotten melon.

 Chapter 51 - 52 Execution Mode

    <h4>Chapter 51: Chapter 52 Execution Mode</h4>


    Rhys staggered backwards, arms iling like someone had yanked the battery out of his spine.


    Ashton didn¡¯t let up.


    While Rhys was still trying to figure out which direction gravity was pulling him, Ashton calmly slipped off his watch and shoved it into his pocket.


    Then he cracked his neck and grabbed Rhys by the cor.


    And started swinging.


    One punch.


    Then another.


    And another.


    Until I¡¯d lost count.


    Until Rhys was spitting blood and barely holding himself upright, body folding like wet cardboard.


    And Ashton still wasn¡¯t done.


    He let Rhys drop like a sack ofpost.


    Then he strolled over and stomped him in the gut.


    Not once.


    Repeatedly.


    Real slow. Real controlled.


    Every hit got another mouthful of blood out of Rhys, like some horrific vending machine.


    ¡®Ashton!¡¯ I lunged forward, grabbing his arm with both hands. ¡®Jesus, you¡¯ll kill him! Stop!¡¯


    He turned to look at me.


    I almost flinched.


    His eyes were so blue they were almost ck, holding a kind of still fury that made my stomach twist.


    I¡¯d seen him pissed before, but this was something else.


    This was execution mode.


    My fingers trembled on his arm, and I dropped them.


    ¡®Ashton, please stop.¡¯


    If he wouldn¡¯t, I might be forced toe to Rhys¡¯s defence, as much as I hated doing that.


    But whatever switch had flipped inside him... switched back.


    His face emptied out. nk again.


    He blinked, once, and the violence vanished.


    Then he looked at my wrist, the one Rhys had grabbed earlier.


    He stepped closer and took it in his hand like it was made of ss.


    His thumb brushed over the skin.


    I didn¡¯t need a mirror to know it looked bad¡ªdeep red, starting to purple, ugly against my pale skin.


    ¡®He hurt you,¡¯ he said in a soft voice, way too soft for someone who just yed Mortal Kombat with my ex.


    ¡®I¡¯m fine. It¡¯s nothing. Looks worse than it is.¡¯ I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened just slightly.


    Not rough. Just firm enough to freeze me.


    ¡®Come with me,¡¯ he said. ¡®I¡¯ll put something on it.¡¯


    He started walking me towards his t like it was already decided.


    Which, knowing him, it probably was.


    Behind us, Rhys groaned like a dying roon.


    Then his voice came out, all wet and wheezy.


    ¡®You... you can¡¯t do this... this is assault... I¡¯ll call the cops... I¡¯m calling the fucking cops...¡¯


    He reached for his pocket with a shaky hand, only to realise his phone had flown halfway down the hallway.


    It was lying in the corner,pletely out of reach.


    He started crawling for it.


    Didn¡¯t even get ten centimetres before a shiny leather shoe came down on his hand. Hard.


    Rhys froze.


    His eyes travelled up¡ªsleek suit trousers, crisp jacket, perfectly calm rage¡ªuntil he met Ashton¡¯s eyes.


    That shut him right up.


    Ashton looked down like Rhys was something stuck to his sole. ¡®Yeah, call the cops. Let¡¯s tell them you stole an ess card, broke in after midnight, and tried to assault and kidnap my wife. Definitely a 911 moment.¡¯


    ¡®I didn¡¯t... I wasn¡¯t kidnapping Mira, I just¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Shut the fuck up.¡¯


    Ashton pressed harder on his hand.


    Rhys let out a guttural squeal and bit his tongue.


    Ashton pulled out his phone and made a call, voice calm enough to scare me more than the shouting.


    Two security guards showed up so fast I thought they¡¯d been hiding behind the curtains.


    One grabbed Rhys¡¯s left arm, the other his right.


    ¡®Mr Laurent, this is on us. We¡¯ll have him taken to the station immediately. Won¡¯t happen again, sir.¡¯


    When the hallway finally emptied and all the testosterone cleared out, Ashton turned to me, caught my wrist again, and led me into his ce.


    ¡®You¡¯re hurt,¡¯ he said. ¡®Let me see what I can do. Then we¡¯ll go to the hospital, just to be sure.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m fine. Seriously.¡¯ My voice didn¡¯t sound super convincing, mostly because I was too busy eyeing the minimalist murder-den he called a t.


    It looked exactly like the ce across from my old apartment.


    ck, white, grey.


    Everything sharp-edged and spotless.


    Not a single personal object.


    Not even a coffee mug.


    I sat on the sofa¡ªif you could call it that; it felt like a furniture showroom disy¡ªand tried not to fidget.


    Ashton crouched in front of me with a first aid kit, ignoring my objection.


    My wrist throbbed, but what made me flinch wasn¡¯t the pain.


    It was the memory of that look in his eyes earlier.


    That ice-cold, controlled violence.


    He paused, fingers just above my skin, and nced up.


    Guess he noticed.


    ¡®Are you upset I hit Rhys Granger?¡¯


    His voice wasn¡¯t smug or apologetic.


    Just... quiet.


    Too quiet for a man who nearly beat someone into aa five minutes ago.


    If I hadn¡¯t grabbed his arm when I did, he probably would¡¯ve finished the job.


    I wasn¡¯t scared for Rhys; I was scared Ashton might actually kill the guy.


    When I didn¡¯t answer, he went back to dabbing antiseptic on my wrist.


    I could tell from the slightly downturned shape of his mouth that he was stewing in it.


    I¡¯d been in love with Rhys for years.


    Stupid, wasted years.


    Ashton knew that.


    I didn¡¯t me him for assuming I still had a soft spot left somewhere.


    But I didn¡¯t.


    ¡®No,¡¯ I said.


    He looked up again, searching my face like he thought I might be lying.


    ¡®I wasn¡¯t upset for him. I was just scared you¡¯d go full psycho and kill the guy. And then you¡¯d go to prison.¡¯


    His hands stilled.


    Then he smiled. ¡®So you were worried about me?¡¯


    ¡®Yes. If you¡¯d actually murdered him, we¡¯d both be in handcuffs, with me as an essory.¡¯


    ¡®I knew what I was doing. He wouldn¡¯t have died.¡¯ He stood up. ¡®So, you no longer feel anything for him?¡¯


    ¡®Nope.¡¯


    ¡®Good. Then you probably won¡¯t feel anything either, if I¡¯ll tell Dominic to make sure Rhys has a rough night in holding?¡¯


    He reached for his phone.

 Chapter 52 - 53 Murdery Look

    <h4>Chapter 52: Chapter 53 Murdery Look</h4>


    I pped Ashton¡¯s hand before he could get to his phone.


    ¡®Okay, no. Let the cops deal with it. You¡¯ve already gone full Godfather once tonight.¡¯


    I wasn¡¯t saying I didn¡¯t want Rhys to suffer.


    I did.


    I just wasn¡¯t willing to risk Ashton catching a charge for it.


    When they dragged him off, Rhys already looked half-dead¡ªblood all over his mouth, shirt soaked like something out of a bad crime doc.


    ¡®Rhys isn¡¯t worth going to prison for,¡¯ I said to Ashton, in case he got the wrong idea again.


    He exhaled heavily. ¡®Fine. I¡¯ll leave the police to handle it. How¡¯s your wrist?¡¯


    I rotated my wrist and winced. Damn Rhys and his gym strength.


    I didn¡¯t say anything, but Ashton saw the sweat beading at my temple.


    ¡®Right. Hospital. Now.¡¯


    I grumbled, ¡®It¡¯s not that bad. I¡¯ll live. It¡¯ste. Too much trouble to go to the hospital.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll drive.¡¯ His voice left zero room for debate.


    I still didn¡¯t move, and he added, ¡®What, you waiting for me to carry you?¡¯


    That did it.


    I sprang up like my arse was on fire. ¡®Nope. I¡¯ve got legs. Watch me use them.¡¯


    He walked ahead, paused like he was thinking about taking my hand, then didn¡¯t.


    Downstairs, he slid behind the wheel and drove us to a private hospital minutes away.


    I figured he probably yed poker with the owner or something, because the second we pulled up, there were nurses and a doctor already waiting outside, clearly expecting us.


    The X-ray showed no broken bones, just a nasty soft tissue injury.


    Trantion: it hurt like hell, but I wouldn¡¯t be needing a titanium wrist anytime soon.


    While the doctor dabbed a minty-smelling ointment onto my wrist, Ashton stood behind me.


    I couldn¡¯t see his face, but judging by the way the doctor was sweating through his whiteb coat like the air con didn¡¯t exist, Ashton was probably looking murdery again.


    He pulled out his phone and started walking away. ¡®Excuse me.¡¯


    ¡®Are you calling your assistant?¡¯ I craned my neck to look at him.


    He paused at the doorway. ¡®Why¡¯d you ask?¡¯


    ¡®If you¡¯re calling to arrange for Rhys to... you know.¡¯ I nced at the doctor.


    ¡®Are you telling me not to do it?¡¯ His voice hardened.


    ¡®No, I¡¯m telling you... be discreet. Make sure you don¡¯t get caught.¡¯


    He might have smiled. ¡®Got it.¡¯


    Once the doctor finished, we didn¡¯t hang around.


    Just a quick wrap-up and we were back in the car.


    I could feel the tension rolling off Ashton like heat from a busted radiator.


    After a few blocks, he snapped out of it.


    nced over at me like he¡¯d only just remembered I was there.


    ¡®Rhys isn¡¯t going to let this go,¡¯ he said. ¡®He¡¯s not gonna handle your marriage that well. You can¡¯t stay at Oakwood.¡¯


    I stifled a yawn. ¡®What? He¡¯s not a serial killer. He got arrested. He¡¯ll back off.¡¯


    Ashton drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. ¡®You read the news? People kill their exes all the time now. What if he¡¯s got some undiagnosed psycho streak? You wait until he sets your t on fire or shes your tyres, and then what?¡¯


    I shivered.


    The images of Rhys pping me in his penthouse over Catherine¡¯s mug, of him dragging me down the hallway earlier tonight, mmed right back into my brain.


    Maybe Ashton had a point.


    ¡®It¡¯s just... I literally just moved in. Paid three months upfront, can¡¯t get my deposit back. And finding another ce is going to be a total nightmare.¡¯


    We stopped at a red light.


    Ashton turned to me, face smooth, voice dipped in just enough honey to raise suspicions. ¡®You could move in with me.¡¯


    I blinked. ¡®Move in with you?¡¯


    I wasn¡¯t sure if he was kidding or just temporarily lost his mind.


    This was a contract marriage.


    No feelings, no funny business, and definitely no ying house.


    The n was to stay out of each other¡¯s way until the divorce.


    ¡®That¡¯s... probably not a great idea,¡¯ I said slowly, trying to tell him it was a stupid, stupid idea without using the actual words.


    He caught the look I shot him and let out a dryugh.


    ¡®Rx. I¡¯m not trying anything. It¡¯s just safer. And I¡¯m not exactly emotionally invested in this rtionship, so there¡¯s zero chance I¡¯ll suddenly fall for you or whatever.¡¯


    Charming.


    But honestly, the more indifferent he sounded, the more reassured I felt.


    A man too cold to flirt was a man who wouldn¡¯t try to get into my bed.


    Plus, wasn¡¯t he still saving himself for his precious lost love?


    Living with him might just be glorified t-sharing.


    I was still hesitating when he added, ¡®Besides, living together helps with my situation. With my grandfather, you know.¡¯


    ¡®Right. How¡¯s he doing?¡¯


    Green light.


    He turned back to the road. ¡®Much better. I showed him the marriage certificate. Worked like magic. He actually got out of bed that day.¡¯


    ¡®d to hear it.¡¯


    ¡®I told him you wanted to meet him. Grandpa said yes. He¡¯s feeling so much better now, he even wants to check out of the sanatorium ande home. If he sees me living there alone, wifeless...¡¯


    ¡®Ah, I get it. Alright, I¡¯ll move in.¡¯ Then I added, only half-joking, ¡®Hope you don¡¯t snore.¡¯


    He smiled. ¡®I don¡¯t.¡¯


    ¡®Wait. I¡¯m mmed at work this week. There¡¯s a project deadline I can¡¯t miss. I¡¯ll move in after that, once the dust settles, cool?¡¯


    He nodded. ¡®That¡¯s fine.¡¯


    As we pulled up outside Oakwood Apartments, he spoke again.


    ¡®My grandfather¡¯s turning eighty soon. There¡¯s going to be a big party. The entire Laurent family has to be there. You¡¯lle with me.¡¯


    I nodded. ¡®Sure. I¡¯ll go with you. They know I¡¯m your, um, wife, right?¡¯


    ¡®Right.¡¯ He nced at me, smirking. ¡®But I didn¡¯t tell them about our... arrangement. As far as they know, we¡¯re madly in love. Might have to act the part.¡¯


    ¡®Got it. I can act.¡¯

 Chapter 53 - 54 Rhys’s POV: Maximum Punishment

    <h4>Chapter 53: Chapter 54 Rhys¡¯s POV: Maximum Punishment</h4>


    Rhys was chained to a chair.


    Hands cuffed. Ankles shackled. Designer shirt wrinkled beyond salvation.


    The cops had rattled off aundry list of charges: ¡®Theft. Breaking and entering. Trespassing. Assault. Disturbing the peace. Kidnapping.¡¯


    Rhys screeched. ¡®You¡¯ve got it all wrong! That¡¯s my fianc¨¦e! We just had a little lovers¡¯ spat, that¡¯s all!¡¯


    One of the officers didn¡¯t even look up from his notes. ¡®You stole a passcard to Oakwood Apartments. Broke into her t. Dragged her out against her will. That¡¯s not a spat, Mr Granger. That¡¯s criminal trespass. And ording to our records, she¡¯s not your fianc¨¦e. You two broke off the engagement. You¡¯re strangers.¡¯


    Rhys opened his mouth, closed it, then blinked. Hard.


    Technically true. But still. Bit harsh.


    ¡®Look at me!¡¯ he whined. ¡®I¡¯m the one bleeding! Check out the bruises! I¡¯m the real victim here. Arrest Ashton Laurent while you¡¯re at it¡ªhe¡¯s the one who smashed my face in!¡¯


    Another officer raised an eyebrow. ¡®Given the circumstances, it looks a lot like self-defence.¡¯


    Rhys groaned like his soul had been kicked in the nuts.


    He sagged against the chair.


    ¡®Can I at least post bail? I need a hospital. If I stay here any longer, I¡¯m gonna die of internal bleeding or whatever.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯ll live. Sit tight.¡¯ The officer shot him a t look and left the room with the others.


    Apparently, someone upstairs wanted to make an example of him.


    Top-tier treatment, maximum punishment.


    No way he was getting out any time soon.


    ***


    Across town, Clive Granger found out what happened and went absolutely nuclear.


    ¡®Get him out,¡¯ he barked at his assistant.


    The assistant tried.


    All day.


    No luck.


    Clive knew someone was pulling strings behind the scenes.


    He sighed, yanked on his coat, and decided to grovel in person.


    Three days.


    That¡¯s how long it took to call in favours, bend over backwards, and kiss arse from one end of Skyline to the other.


    But finally, he got Rhys out.


    Rhys had barely stepped into the car before Clive pped him so hard his vision pixted.


    ¡®Useless piece of shit.¡¯


    Rhys, already looking like he¡¯d been thrown down an esctor, clutched his face and whimpered. ¡®Dad, seriously, it wasn¡¯t my fault. Ashton set me up¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Shut your mouth! Drive to the hospital,¡¯ he told the driver, then turned back to Rhys with a snarl. ¡®What the hell were you thinking? You picked a fight with Ashton bloody Laurent?¡¯


    Rhys iled weakly. ¡®I didn¡¯t! He beat the crap out of me unprovoked!¡¯


    ¡®You think I don¡¯t know what you were doing at Oakwood?¡¯ Clive shot him a re that could¡¯ve melted steel. ¡®I told you how to spin the story. Direct the heat on Mirabelle. You can¡¯t even do that right! What do I have to do, write you a damn script?¡¯


    His tone dropped, serious now. ¡®Leave Mirabelle alone for now. I¡¯m booking you into a hospital. Stay there and heal up. And for the love of God, don¡¯t cause another scandal.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah, yeah... got it...¡¯


    Clive hired a full-time nurse to watch over Rhys and very intentionally barred Louisa and Willow from visiting.


    Rhysy in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling.


    Catherine had been calling him nonstop, leaving increasingly frantic voice messages.


    He¡¯d replied with a curt ¡®I¡¯m fine,¡¯ then shut off his phone before she could ask him again if he preferred ¨¨ze or Nice.


    As if he could be going anywhere anytime soon.


    It hurt for him to sit up, to wince, even to spit.


    The more he thought about it, the more his blood boiled.


    He hadn¡¯t even thrown a punch, and now his whole body felt like it¡¯d been run over by a garbage truck.


    Meanwhile, Mirabelle got to waltz around town looking smug, probably shopping for her wedding dress.


    She was the reason Rhys was bleeding, yet somehow, she came out of it squeaky clean.


    Rage crawled under his skin like ants.


    Screw what his father said.


    He wasn¡¯t going down without a fight.


    Rhys yanked out his phone and opened the group chat with his closest friends, his inner circle.


    Rhys: [Mirabelle ran off with someone else. Wedding¡¯s off. I¡¯m done.]


    Message sent.


    Boom. It was like setting off a grenade in a crowded room.


    The group chat lit up.


    Montgomery Hayes was the first to bite.


    Monty Hayes: [Wait, what the hell? Mirabelle cheated on you?]


    More came flooding in:


    [She used to follow you around everywhere. What¡¯d you do to piss her off this time?]


    [Didn¡¯t we bet she¡¯de crawling back in, like, three days? And now she¡¯s run off with someone else?]


    [Is this a joke? @Rhys, did you get ckout drunk again?]


    Rhys stabbed his thumbs at the screen.


    Rhys: [I¡¯m NOT drunk. Mirabelle screwed me over. She¡¯s been sneaking around with some random guy. The engagement¡¯s off. So¡¯s the wedding. You can burn the invites.]


    There was no way he was dropping Ashton¡¯s name.


    Hell no. That was suicide by group chat.


    So he kept it vague.


    The bait worked.


    [Damn. So much for her good girl act. Mira¡¯s got game.]


    [Always thought she looked too innocent. Those are the sneakiest ones.]


    [Fact: women always cheat.]


    [Sorry, bro. You¡¯ll find somebody better.]


    [Yeah, like Cathy. She¡¯s back in town, isn¡¯t she?]


    [Forget Mira, bro,e out tonight, let¡¯s hit the new strip club on 8th.]


    ...


    Rhys watched the usations stack up.


    Every insult, every dig, every emoji-voured roast¡ªit was healing.


    He recorded a voice note, deliberately raspy, half-sniffle, half-Oscar reel.


    Rhys: [She lied to me, guys... properly wrecked me. I gave her everything, and she just... yeah. Guess I wasn¡¯t enough. I¡¯m not in the mood to hang out. Just leave me alone for a while, okay?]


    And Send.

 Chapter 54 - 55 Viral Group Chat

    <h4>Chapter 54: Chapter 55 Viral Group Chat</h4>


    Rhys disappeared from my life.


    I didn¡¯t care if he was in jail or in a hospital, as long as he wasn¡¯t six feet under.


    It was a fine Friday, I was at the Nyx Collective studio admiring the ne I¡¯d just designed.


    I¡¯d used my employee perks to get it custom-made¡ªmy design, my materials, my signature, my everything.


    There was literally only one of these in the world.


    And in two days, it was going to be Yvaine¡¯s birthday present.


    I¡¯d barely had time to breathe in its perfection when my phone lit up with Yvaine¡¯s name.


    Shit. Had she somehow found out?


    Surprise ruined.


    I picked up, bracing myself.


    Instead, I got:


    ¡®That dickstain! Next time I see him, I¡¯m stapling his lying mouth shut. The balls on him, spewing bullshit like he¡¯s got a diploma in defamation. Did he eat shame for breakfast or was he just born this scummy?¡¯


    ¡®Whoa, slow down, what happened?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®Check your phone. I just sent you some screenshots. That sewer rat¡¯s mouthing off again.¡¯


    I opened the images.


    ¡®Are you kidding me?¡¯ I muttered. ¡®Rhys actually said that?¡¯


    ¡®Said it, sent it, and broadcast it,¡¯ Yvaine spat. ¡®Someone in his boys-only group chat leaked it. It¡¯s already in, like, fifteen chats. I saw it in a spin ss group I don¡¯t even remember joining.¡¯


    ¡®Of course it¡¯s going viral,¡¯ I mumbled. ¡®Everybody loves a good scandal.¡¯


    ¡®I got myself added to his little dick-swinging group chat. Don¡¯t ask how. I tagged him in every message, asked him to retract his damn lies.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m guessing he didn¡¯tply.¡¯


    ¡®He went silent, that weasel. Then someone kicked me out of the group, probably after Rhys went crying to the mod like the spineless little coward he is.¡¯


    I nodded. ¡®You got the coward part right.¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s not just a coward. He¡¯s a half-baked twatwaffle with a megaphone for a mouth.¡¯


    ¡®Twatwaffle?¡¯ Iughed. ¡®You, ah, seem to have picked up some new vocabry.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ve got loads more. That sad little fart-stain, walking around like his mouth¡¯s directly wired to his arse. Honestly, if he had half a brain cell, it¡¯d die of loneliness. Calling him useless is an insult to actual useless things. He and Catherine should get married already¡ªperfect match, right down to the trash they spew. Cupid¡¯s algorithm finally doing its job.¡¯


    I pulled the phone away from my ear.


    Her volume was breaking the sound barrier and rattling my skull.


    ¡®Breathe, Yvie,¡¯ I told her. ¡®He¡¯s got nothing, so he¡¯s making stuff up to shift the me. Don¡¯t give him the satisfaction of a reaction.¡¯


    Yvaine huffed, but her voice dropped a decibel or two. ¡®He even sent voice messages, like he¡¯s the one being wronged. Can you believe the nerve? I could scream. I am screaming.¡¯


    Anyone would¡¯ve been furious getting publicly dragged through the mud.


    But I¡¯d already slipped into strategy mode. ¡®Cool your jets. Don¡¯t go back in the ring swinging just yet.¡¯


    ¡®Nope. No chance in hell. I need to get back in that group. I¡¯m not done with him.¡¯


    I could practically hear her rolling up her sleeves. War mode: activated.


    ¡®No, don¡¯t, Yvie,¡¯ I said quickly. ¡®Let them keep yapping. The worse it gets, the better.¡¯


    ¡®Are you fucking serious right now?¡¯ she yelled. ¡®It¡¯s getting worse by the second. I swear, I¡¯m two clicks away from hiring some hacker to nuke their phones from orbit. You haven¡¯t seen everything I have. What I sent you was just the tip of the ming shitberg. Rhys¡¯s idiot friends are talking so much shit, it¡¯d need a bleep every other word if I read it out loud.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s okay. Let them keep talking.¡¯


    ¡®You serious right now? Is this Mirabelle I¡¯m talking to? Or has some peace-loving alien taken over your body?¡¯


    ¡®Just hear me out. Do you know anyone else in the group? Someone who can keep feeding us screenshots?¡¯


    ¡®Hell yes. One of my friends is in there. Rhys has no idea we¡¯re connected. He¡¯s my little undercover spy.¡¯


    ¡®Perfect. Tell him to keep grabbing everything. I want every single lie Rhys spits about me on record.¡¯


    There was a pause. Then Yvaine caught on. ¡®You¡¯re going legal, aren¡¯t you?¡¯


    ¡®Damn right I am.¡¯


    I hung up, messaged Savannah to cover for me and left work early.


    I didn¡¯t go home. Took a left instead, down the street behind Nyx Collective.


    I remembered seeing aw firm near here.


    Small ce, nothing shy.


    But it¡¯d do.


    If Rhys wanted to run his mouth, he could do it in court.


    The receptionist looked up from herputer with a tired smile. ¡®Hello. Do you have an appointment?¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯


    ¡®We¡¯re closing soon, and all thewyers are in meetings. Maybee back on Monday?¡¯


    I started to turn, already nning to hit another firm or maybe just call someone online.


    Then a voice called out behind me: ¡®Mirabelle? Mirabelle Vance?¡¯


    I stopped, nced back, and saw a guy in a perfectly ironed suit stepping out of the lift with a ck briefcase.


    Lawyer vibes were written all over him.


    I stared at his face for a beat before it clicked. ¡®Finnigan Carter, right?¡¯


    ¡®Guilty as charged.¡¯ He walked over, grinning. ¡®What are you doing here?¡¯


    ¡®I could ask you the same. Are you working here?¡¯


    ¡®Sure am.¡¯


    ¡®Right. You did prw in college, I remember now.¡¯


    ¡®Damn, it¡¯s been ages,¡¯ he said. ¡®You here for legal advice?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah.¡¯ I nodded, but nced at the clock. ¡®But you guys are closing, right?¡¯


    He shrugged. ¡®Nah,e on. I¡¯ll take you. I just wrapped up myst case anyway. Was gonna sneak out early. Guess fate had other ns.¡¯


    ¡®Are you sure? I don¡¯t want to mess up your ns.¡¯

 Chapter 55 - 56 Out for Blood

    <h4>Chapter 55: Chapter 56 Out for Blood</h4>


    Finn pulled a face. ¡®Please don¡¯t remind me that, as a fully grown, gainfully employed adult, my big Friday night n is sharing reheatedsagne with my judgemental cat.¡¯ He shed another grin at me. ¡®You¡¯re at least betterpany. And less judgemental, I hope.¡¯


    Iughed. ¡®Alright then. Thanks. You¡¯re a lifesaver.¡¯


    We got in the lift.


    Seeing a familiar face here felt like a little cosmic pat on the back.


    Once we were in a conference room, I handed him my phone. ¡®Someone¡¯s been spreading lies about me. Can I sue?¡¯


    Finn scrolled through the screenshots, his jaw tightening. ¡®Jesus, these people are savage. Yeah, if all this is made-up, it¡¯s definitely defamation. You can go civil, or even criminal if you want to push it. That kind of shit¡¯s not protected.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m sure it¡¯s all lies. Every word.¡¯


    Finn scrolled again, slower this time, then frowned. ¡®Wait. The guy who sent all this... Rhys Granger?¡¯


    I nodded.


    His head snapped up. ¡®The same Rhys who...?¡¯


    Another nod from me. This time with bonus shame.


    Back then, I wasn¡¯t exactly broadcasting my crush on Rhys, but let¡¯s be real, people knew.


    Hard not to, especially after Catherine uploaded scans of my diary to the school intr like it was breaking news.


    Boom. Instant humiliation.


    Everyone suddenly knew I had a tragic, textbook-case crush on my sister¡¯s boyfriend.


    College life could be brutal. Especially when you were the headline.


    Still, I had friends. Including Finn.


    We were in the same club, and he¡¯d been nice to me from day one.


    He never pried.


    When everyone else wanted the tea, Finn just quietly made sure I got included in all the club activities and listened whenever I wanted to vent.


    If he hadn¡¯t graduated early and bolted off tow school, we probably would¡¯ve stayed close.


    Still, all these yearster, seeing someone from my ¡®hopelessly simping for Rhys¡¯ era made me want to crawl into the nearest bin.


    Reluctantly, I borated. ¡®We got engaged, then we, ah, we broke up. He didn¡¯t take it well. So now he¡¯s ying petty, spreading shit to make me look bad. But he¡¯s the one who cheated, honest.¡¯


    Finn blinked.


    I saw it¡ªsomewhere behind the professional poker face, a little crack.


    ¡®Send me everything,¡¯ he said, voice low. ¡®I¡¯ll handle thewsuit.¡¯


    ¡®Thements are ongoing and getting worse. His fanboys are still going off on me. I¡¯ll send you moreter.¡¯


    ¡®The worse, the better. If he keeps this up, the judge¡¯ll be begging to p him with charges.¡¯


    ¡®Cool. Appreciate it.¡¯


    Yvaine was basically living on her phone at this point, refreshing like it was a second job.


    Every time Rhys dropped a message in their group chat, one of her friends screenshotted it, sent it to her, and she passed it to me.


    I forwarded the mess to Finn.


    Butwsuits took time.


    Yvaine didn¡¯t have that kind of patience.


    Her birthday wasing up, and she was out for blood.


    ¡®I invited Rhys and Catherine to my birthday party,¡¯ she called and told me. ¡®Watch how I ruin their day for you.¡¯


    I tried to be reasonable. ¡®Don¡¯t let those clowns mess up your birthday. It¡¯s not worth it.¡¯


    ¡®Making them squirm is the only thing that¡¯ll make it worth it.¡¯


    I yielded.


    Sunday afternoon, I turned up at her house with a tiny, ribbon-wrapped box.


    ¡®Custom-made,¡¯ I said, handing it over. ¡®Only one in the world.¡¯


    ¡®Shut up. I love it!¡¯ Yvaine was already sping the ne around her neck, twirling in front of the mirror, snapping selfies.


    Then Cassian Langford walked in.


    Yvaine blinked. ¡®Wait, what are you doing here?¡¯


    He lifted a sleek ck gift bag like it was a peace offering. ¡®Your brother¡¯s stuck overseas. Sent me to y the charming stand-in.¡¯


    ¡®Ooh, what did he get me?¡¯


    He held up two bags. ¡®One¡¯s from Emmett. The other¡¯s from me. Guess which is better.¡¯


    She pointed to her neck. ¡®Neither. This is the best.¡¯


    Cassian looked at me and nodded.


    While Yvaine greeted the iing guests, Cassian stood next to me.


    Several times, he opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but in the end decided not to.


    I was tempted to ask him to spit it out when the party proper started.


    The ce was packed.


    Yvaine had enough energy to power the city grid, and half of Skyline¡¯s social climbers were here kissing her arse.


    The gift pile had mutated into a three-metre-high shrine in the corner.


    I was halfway through my mocktail when Rhys finally showed up.


    And of course, he brought her.


    Rhys nced around the room and stared straight at me.


    He knew I¡¯d be here.


    Showing up with Catherine was part of his whole pathetic power y.


    Message received, loud and clear: You can move on, babe, so can I.


    Childish. Predictable. And not even original.


    Murmurs rippled through the crowd at the sight of those two, especially Rhys.


    He still hadn¡¯t healedpletely from the beating Ashton gave himst week.


    He¡¯d probably snuck out of the hospital with a bruised jaw and stitched-up lip just so he could try and make me jealous.


    I squared my shoulders.


    Yvaine touched my arm. ¡®Let me have a go first. Come on, I¡¯ve got a whole thing nned. Even did a rehearsal.¡¯


    Her smile was feral.


    I gave her the floor.


    She elbowed one of her friends and flicked her chin in their direction.


    That was the signal.


    Near the door, I caught someone disguised as a party photographer filming Rhys and Catherine.


    Probably another part of Yvaine¡¯s n.


    I eased closer for a look.


    The camera caught them at just the right moment.


    One frame even looked like a kiss¡ªpure illusion, but it didn¡¯t matter.


    A secondter, my phone vibrated.

 Chapter 56 - 57 Fists Speak Louder

    <h4>Chapter 56: Chapter 57 Fists Speak Louder</h4>


    Yvaine had just dumped the pics into half a dozen group chats without a single caption.


    Then her gang kicked off their performance like it was rehearsed.


    Voices up, filters off.


    ¡®Is that Catherine Vance?¡¯


    ¡®Sure is. Lucky gal. Had Rhys Granger wrapped round her finger back in the day, dumped him, disappeared overseas for years, and still crawled back into his bed like nothing happened.¡¯


    ¡®Deadass. Word is, he¡¯s paying her to be his secretary now. Like, girl didn¡¯t even study anything close to that.¡¯


    ¡®Please, I heard she majored in interior design or something, nothing to do with admin.¡¯


    ¡®Nepotism much?¡¯


    ¡®Bet they do role-y in the office. ¡°Mr Granger, I need a raise...¡± Bitch, please, we know how you¡¯re earning that bonus.¡¯


    They didn¡¯t even bother whispering.


    If anything, they leaned in louder, like they were auditioning for Mean Girls: The Grown-Ass Version.


    Rhys and Catherine were maybe two feet away, and their faces said everything.


    Pale, pissed, cornered.


    Catherine blinked fast, like she was trying to hold back tears. ¡®That¡¯s not true,¡¯ she mumbled, voice trembling. ¡®Rhys and I aren¡¯t like that. We¡¯re just colleagues. We only came in together because we bumped into each other at the door.¡¯


    Cute excuse.


    Ten out of ten for effort, but no one was buying it.


    Especially not with Rhys standing there like a mute statue.


    They hadn¡¯t gone public with their rtionship, obviously, though I no longer cared to analyse why.


    Maybe sneaking around was part of the fun for them.


    Yvaine floated past with a wine ss and an Oscar-worthy smirk, then oops¡ªred wine all over Catherine¡¯s dress.


    Hand slipped. Whoopsie.


    ¡®Oh dear, my bad. Didn¡¯t see you there,¡¯ she said, not even pretending to sound sorry. ¡®But since you egged Serenna into throwing wine on me at the Laurents¡¯ party, I guess we¡¯re even now.¡¯


    Catherine clenched her jaw and hissed, ¡®Fine. We¡¯re even.¡¯


    She tried to move away, but Yvaine wouldn¡¯t let her. ¡®I¡¯ll pay you for the dress. How much is it?¡¯


    Catherine tossed her hair over her shoulder. ¡®Five grand.¡¯


    Yvaine nodded. ¡®Okay, five grand. Then you owe me fifteen grand.¡¯


    Catherine stared. ¡®What the hell are you talking about?¡¯


    ¡®The dress I wore to the Laurent party. It was tailored, twenty thousand dors. Yours is off-the-rack, right? Anyway, wanna do card or cash?¡¯


    Catherine¡¯s eyes almost bugged out of her sockets. ¡®Twenty grand? Are you frigging kidding me?¡¯


    Yvaine scoffed. ¡®Didn¡¯t your mummy and daddy raise you like a spoiled little princess? What, they never bought you a twenty-thousand-dor dress? Pathetic. Fine, I¡¯ll cut you a discount. Just give me ten. It¡¯ll be my good deed of the day.¡¯


    Catherine¡¯s face went from cherry red to sheet white.


    Her fists clenched so hard I half-expected to see blood. ¡®This is extortion.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ve got receipts,¡¯ Yvaine said. ¡®Want screenshots or printed copies?¡¯


    Catherine whipped her head to Rhys. ¡®Say something, Rhys!¡¯


    He frowned.


    Yvaine raised a hand, not even looking at him. ¡®This is between the girls, Rhys. Sit down and shut up.¡¯


    He did.


    Catherine¡¯s lips started to tremble.


    She scanned the room like she was hunting for backup.


    Found me instead.


    Her eyes narrowed. ¡®You put her up to this, didn¡¯t you?¡¯


    I shrugged.


    Yvaine snapped her fingers in Catherine¡¯s face. ¡®Uh-uh. Eyes over here. We¡¯re not done. Fork it over.¡¯


    Catherine looked around again, desperate now.


    But tonight¡¯s crowd was mostly women, not the type to fall for her good looks and damsel energy.


    The few guys around had the good sense to keep their mouths shut.


    Nobody wanted smoke with Yvaine Carlisle, not when she had a revenge streak a mile long.


    Catherine turned back to Rhysst hope.


    Still useless.


    Rhys had that zed, stunned look on his face, like it had just hit him that he wasn¡¯t the star of the party anymore.


    Catherine bit her lip. ¡®This is just revenge! You poured wine on me on purpose! You¡¯re only doing this because of Mirabelle, because she¡¯s too much of a coward to stand up for herself. Well, guess what? That¡¯s why Rhys dumped her. No spine!¡¯


    Crack.


    The p echoed like a gunshot.


    A perfect, open-palmed serve right across her face.


    Yvaine flicked her wrist like she¡¯d just served match point.


    ¡®Everyone knows who¡¯s the cheater here. Say one more word about Mirabelle and I¡¯ll knock your teeth out for free.¡¯


    Rhys shot to his feet, pulling Catherine to his side.


    ¡®What the hell is wrong with you?¡¯ he snarled at Yvaine.


    She turned to the crowd and raised her voice like we were in court. ¡®Oh, now he¡¯s protecting her? Says they¡¯re just colleagues, but look, he¡¯s fixing her soggy dress, escorting her to parties like they¡¯re an old married couple. Anyone here do that with your ¡°colleagues¡±?¡¯


    Everyone behind her chimed in like a bloody choir: ¡®Absolutely not!¡¯


    ¡®We¡¯re leaving,¡¯ Rhys growled, grabbing Catherine¡¯s wrist.


    Yvaine blocked their way before they could even turn.


    ¡®Going somewhere? On my birthday? After showing up with one gift between the two of you and turning my party into a Jerry Springer episode?¡¯


    Rhys looked ready to explode. ¡®Move!¡¯


    Yvaine stood her ground.


    He shoved her.


    Her heels were skyscraper-tall, and she wobbled like a baby giraffe.


    I caught her before she facented, then stepped right up to Rhys.


    And pped him.


    Twice.


    Felt fantastic, not gonna lie.


    My hand stung like hell, but watching his smug face whip sideways was worth every nerve ending.


    I thought about the crap he¡¯d posted in that group chat this week. The dirty jokes, the smug texts, the smugger selfies.


    So I pped him again.


    Twice more.


    Four clean hits before anyone even processed what the hell just happened.


    His face was already puffy from what Ashton did to him, and now it looked like he¡¯d lost a fight with a frying pan.


    If he¡¯d had any jawline left, it was gone now.


    And weirdly, I kind of understood it.


    That sharp, visceral satisfaction in being able to physically overpower someone who deserved it¡ªit made a sort of primitive sense.


    Not that I was endorsing violence or anything, but sometimes, words just didn¡¯t cut it.


    Sometimes fists spoke louder.


    I shook out my hand and snapped, ¡®Apologise to Yvaine.¡¯

 Chapter 57 - 58 Evidence On a Silver Platter

    <h4>Chapter 57: Chapter 58 Evidence On a Silver tter</h4>


    Rhys blinked.


    He looked mildly concussed, and maybe he was.


    Then he snarled, ¡®Why the hell should I? She poured the damn drink on purpose, she hit Catherine, you hit me. Now you want us to say sorry?¡¯


    He looked around as if looking for support.


    Too bad no one was on his side.


    Every guest was shouting for him to apologise.


    Some even pulled out their phones¡ªssic Skyline behaviour. Justice via Instagram Live.


    Rhys red at me.


    His whole body was shaking.


    If we¡¯d been alone, I bet he¡¯d have swung back.


    But we weren¡¯t.


    He might be stupid, but no way was he hitting a woman on camera.


    So he used his mouth instead.


    ¡®Mirabelle, who the hell do you think you are? You cheated, you ran off with some other guy, you broke off the engagement. If anyone should apologise, it¡¯s you.¡¯


    I smiled. ¡®You¡¯re saying I cheated?¡¯


    Rhys went red. Loud red. ¡®Yes! You cheated!¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re saying I ran off with some random guy?¡¯


    ¡®Damn right! You¡¯re heartless. You slept around while we were still together, then dumped me like trash. You¡¯re a disgrace.¡¯


    He kept yelling, voice cracking, arms iling.


    I waited for him to run out of steam.


    Then I asked, ¡®So... you got proof of any of that?¡¯


    That gave him pause. ¡®No... But it¡¯s true!¡¯


    ¡®Brilliant,¡¯ I said, giving my phone a little twirl between my fingers. ¡®Because I recorded all that. Every word.¡¯


    His jaw dropped. ¡®You recorded it? What for?¡¯ He sneered. ¡®Gonna cry over it at home?¡¯


    I shook my head. ¡®You really are an idiot.¡¯


    Then I turned to the crowd behind us and raised my voice just enough. ¡®You all heard that, right? Rhys Granger ndering me at a public event. I¡¯ve already got awyer. Consider yourselves witnesses.¡¯


    Rhys started sweating. ¡®What the hell are you talking about?¡¯


    I spun back. ¡®I was worried I didn¡¯t have enough to go on. But then you showed up and handed me evidence on a silver tter. Thanks for that, by the way.¡¯


    He stood there gaping.


    Took him a full ten seconds to reboot.


    ¡®You¡¯re suing me?¡¯ he spluttered. ¡®You seriously think you¡¯ve got the guts?¡¯


    Catherine was whispering under her breath like I couldn¡¯t hear her. ¡®Rhys isn¡¯t totally wrong. You were messing around with some random guy, weren¡¯t you?¡¯


    I pointed my phone in her direction. ¡®I recorded that, too. And I¡¯ll be adding your name to thewsuit. You and Rhys can split the court fees.¡¯


    Her mouth snapped shut. Fast.


    Rhys must¡¯ve finally clocked the way everyone was staring at him¡ªlike he¡¯d just farted in church¡ªbecause he grabbed Catherine¡¯s arm and turned to bolt for the door.


    ¡®Oi!¡¯ Yvaine shouted after them. ¡®You still owe me for my bloody dress!¡¯


    They kept walking like their lives depended on getting the hell out of there.


    They didn¡¯t get far.


    Cassian Langford stepped in from the side, casual as anything, and blocked their path.


    I nudged Yvaine. ¡®Is he part of your n, too?¡¯


    She nudged back. ¡®No. Didn¡¯t even know he wasing today.¡¯


    ¡®Mr Granger,¡¯ he said, ¡®we¡¯re not quite done here. You¡¯ve yet to apologise, and the dress still hasn¡¯t been paid for. Surely that¡¯s not the way the Grangers handle things?¡¯


    Cassian was smiling, but there was no warmth in it.


    His familiar predator-like expression reminded me of Ashton, and I suddenly understood what Cassian was doing here.


    Rhys froze.


    He might¡¯ve been dumb enough to piss off Yvaine, but even he wasn¡¯t suicidal enough to cross a Langford.


    Rhys¡¯s dad, Clive, basically bowed when he saw Cassian at corporate events.


    ¡®Mr Langford, you saw what happened,¡¯ Rhys tried. ¡®It was Yvaine and Mirabelle who got physical. Catherine and I were the victims.¡¯


    He actually sounded like he believed that.


    ¡®Then call the police,¡¯ Cassian said. ¡®I don¡¯t care about the scuffle. That¡¯s for the court to sort out. But you¡¯re not denying that your girlfriend here¡¯¡ªhe tilted his chin at Catherine¡ª¡®ruined Yvaine¡¯s dress?¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯s not my girlfriend,¡¯ Rhys said in a hurry.


    Catherine looked like she wanted to say something but Rhys shut her down.


    ¡®Fine. Will you at least acknowledge that she¡¯s your date? You did show up to the party with her, didn¡¯t you?¡¯ Cassian nced at the photographer Yvaine had hired. ¡®If you need help jogging your memory...¡¯


    ¡®No need! Yeah, she¡¯s my... date,¡¯ Rhys admitted reluctantly.


    ¡®Good. I imagine fifteen grand isn¡¯t beyond the Granger family budget?¡¯


    Rhys could definitely afford it.


    But handing over the money would mean admitting Yvaine and I had won.


    ¡®It was an ident,¡¯ he tried vainly. ¡®And Yvaine ruined Cathy¡¯s dress, too. Maybe we should just call it even?¡¯


    ¡®I hear Granger Development Group is bidding on that Redwood Creek redevelopment project? I happen to have friends who are sitting on the City nning Commission...¡¯ Cassian didn¡¯t need to finish the sentence.


    Rhys got the hint fast.


    If he fumbled that deal over a dress, his dad would actually murder him with a caviar spoon.


    ¡®We¡¯ll pay,¡¯ Rhys blurted. ¡®Of course we¡¯ll pay. It¡¯s all a misunderstanding, just a stupid dress...¡¯


    He shot Catherine a look that basically screamed: pay up or I will drown you in the punch bowl.


    She gave him that wide-eyed, damsel-in-distress stare, hoping he¡¯d swoop in and save her wallet.


    He didn¡¯t blink. ¡®Catherine, transfer the money. Now.¡¯


    ¡®But, Rhys!¡¯ she whined.


    Rhys didn¡¯t budge.


    Eventually, with half the room watching, Catherine pulled out her phone and tapped through the transfer.


    Yvaine¡¯s phone buzzed.


    She checked the screen, saw the money hadnded, and gave a tiny nod. ¡®You¡¯re free to go.¡¯


    Rhys and Catherine slithered out of the house.


    Yvaine looked disappointed. ¡®I¡¯ve got more stuff nned.¡¯


    I smiled. ¡®Maybe next time.¡¯


    She looped her arm through mine. ¡®Come on, now it¡¯s time for the real party. Also, where¡¯s your boyfriend? I did send Ashton an invite, didn¡¯t I?¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s not my boyfriend,¡¯ I said automatically.


    Yvaine grinned. ¡®Sure, sure. Because he¡¯s obviously much more than that now.¡¯


    She leaned in, eyes gleaming.


    I knew that look.


    I¡¯d seen it too many times not to brace for impact.


    I tried to squirm away, but she was fast.


    ¡®So? How¡¯s married life treating you? You climb that man yet or what? What position did you use? Were you on top or¡ª¡¯


    I bolted for the bathroom before her questions got even more X-rated.

 Chapter 58 - 59 Rhys’s POV: Two Hundred Grand

    <h4>Chapter 58: Chapter 59 Rhys¡¯s POV: Two Hundred Grand</h4>


    After leaving Yvaine¡¯s party, Rhys and Catherine didn¡¯t speak a word.


    Neither of them had the energy to fake it.


    The whole night had been one long humiliation marathon, and they were both too pissed to bother pretending otherwise.


    At the kerb, Rhys pulled his coat tighter and grunted, ¡®Wait here. I¡¯ll get the car.¡¯


    ¡®Fine,¡¯ Catherine muttered.


    He¡¯d barely turned the corner when some guy leapt out of the flowerbed, nearly scaring Catherine into an early grave.


    ¡®Cathy!¡¯ the boy hissed.


    He couldn¡¯t have been older than twenty, and he was wearing a rent-a-cop uniform two sizes too big.


    She recognised him instantly and dragged him right back behind the bushes by the scruff of his sleeve.


    Her nails dug into his arm.


    ¡®Are you insane?¡¯ she hissed, wild-eyed. ¡®I told you not to contact me! How the hell did you even find me? If anyone sees us¡ªJesus, I¡¯m screwed.¡¯


    He shook her off, flicked a half-smoked cigarette onto the ground.


    ¡®Couldn¡¯t reach you on the phone,¡¯ he said with a shrug. ¡®Had toe find you myself.¡¯


    Her mouth twitched like she wanted to p him or scream¡ªor both. ¡®What do you want?¡¯


    ¡®Money. What else?¡¯


    She froze.


    ¡®Dad¡¯s getting worse. Docs say surgery¡¯s non-negotiable. It¡¯s gonna cost two hundred grand. You¡¯re gonna give it to me.¡¯


    Catherine¡¯s face shifted fast.


    She¡¯d just been bled by Yvaine for fifteen grand.


    Another two hundred K?


    She didn¡¯t have that kind of cash lying around in her purse.


    She eyed him, arms crossed, one brow lifted high enough to scrape the moon. ¡®Is he really that sick? Or did you gamble yourself into another hole?¡¯


    The boy¡¯s jaw twitched.


    He hesitated, just for a second. ¡®Of course it¡¯s Dad. You think I¡¯d lie to you?¡¯


    She didn¡¯t even bother hiding the disbelief in her voice. ¡®You¡¯ve gambled it away again, haven¡¯t you? I told you, I can¡¯t keep bailing you out. If you¡¯re not gonna quit, then I¡¯m done. I¡¯m not your bloody ATM.¡¯


    The boy snatched out his phone and shoved it in her face. ¡®Look! The doctor messaged me!¡¯


    She didn¡¯t even look at the screen.


    Could¡¯ve been porn or pizza coupons for all she cared. ¡®I don¡¯t have the money.¡¯


    ¡®Bullshit!¡¯ he shouted. ¡®You¡¯re Rhys Granger¡¯s side piece. One of his gifts to you probably costs more than my old man¡¯s surgery!¡¯


    That hit home.


    Catherine¡¯s face drained to a pale, waxy white. ¡®I¡¯m not¡ª¡¯


    ¡®We blew so much cash on you back then,¡¯ the boy spat. ¡®And now when it¡¯s me and my dad needing help, you¡¯re suddenly broke?¡¯


    Her lips parted, shaky, like she¡¯d just been pped. ¡®I¡¯m not... not a side piece. Rhys and I, we¡¯re together. Properly.¡¯


    ¡®Even better,¡¯ he scoffed. ¡®Thought I heard he ditched Mirabelle Vance. So what¡¯s the holdup? Why hasn¡¯t he put a ring on it?¡¯


    Catherine took a sharp breath.


    Then another.


    Like she was trying to bottle her panic and drink itter.


    ¡®I¡¯ll send you the money. In a few days. Just go. If anyone sees you, it¡¯s over for me.¡¯


    The boy didn¡¯t budge. ¡®A few days? How many¡¯s a few?¡¯


    ¡®Ten.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s too long!¡¯


    ¡®Fine! Three. Now go!¡¯


    ¡®Fine. But if that money¡¯s not in my ount by day three... you know what I can do.¡¯ He bolted before she could answer, disappearing down the street.


    The second he vanished, Rhys¡¯s car rolled up to the kerb.


    Catherine clenched her fists so hard her nails dug little half-moons into her palm.


    She slid into the passenger seat like nothing had happened.


    Rhys nced at herzily as he pulled back into traffic. ¡®Saw you chatting with someone just now. Friend of yours?¡¯


    Catherine forced a breath, smiled like she hadn¡¯t just been ckmailed behind a hedge.


    The music in the car helped drown out the thudding in her chest.


    ¡®No. Just someone asking for directions.¡¯


    ¡®Right,¡¯ Rhys muttered, eyes on the road. ¡®Figured. No way you¡¯d hang out with someone wearing knock-off trainers.¡¯


    Catherine bit down on her lip, nodded, forced augh. ¡®Yeah. Exactly.¡¯


    To Rhys, Catherine was still the same spoilt little debutante, born to designer shoes and Sunday brunches.


    Even after moving abroad, she¡¯d been living the rich-girl dream, at least ording to her Instagram updates.


    The idea that she might know someone outside his curated little world was simply unthinkable.


    They drove in silence for a while.


    She stared out the window like it might show her a way out.


    Finally, she spoke.


    Sweet. Careful. Like someone testing the temperature of bath water before diving in.


    ¡®Rhys... I saw this bag the other day. Really pretty. But I¡¯m short on cash.¡¯


    ¡®How much?¡¯


    ¡®Two hundred thousand.¡¯


    That got his attention.


    His head snapped to her, brows pulling into that tight little V he always wore when his mood curdled.


    Which,tely, was all the damn time.


    ¡®I already paid for your flights and hotels in France. What the hell do you need two hundred grand for?¡¯


    Catherine pouted. ¡®But it¡¯s thest one, Rhys. Limited edition. They¡¯re not making it again. I¡¯ve literally never wanted anything more in my life.¡¯


    Rhys didn¡¯t budge. ¡®You don¡¯t need a handbag that costs two hundred grand.¡¯


    Catherine leaned in.


    Close enough that her hair brushed his arm, her breath on his cheek.


    She murmured something low against his ear.


    His mouth twitched. ¡®With your mouth?¡¯


    ¡®And anywhere else you like. I¡¯ll wear the red corset.¡¯


    He exhaled hard through his nose. ¡®Yeah, alright.¡¯

 Chapter 59 - 60 Left out of the Loop

    <h4>Chapter 59: Chapter 60 Left out of the Loop</h4>


    The second Rhys and Catherine vanished from Yvaine¡¯s party, the vibe bounced right back like they¡¯d never existed.


    Yvaine was in her element, gliding from group to group like she¡¯d grown up on a champagne tray.


    Sheughed too loud, hugged too many people, and somehow remembered everyone¡¯s dog¡¯s name.


    It was her birthday, after all, so every time someone raised a ss, she drank like it was her duty.


    I kept an eye on her between sips of my own watered-down cocktail.


    Meanwhile, Cassian had parked himself beside me with a drink he didn¡¯t touch and a smile that was trying a little too hard.


    He asked where I was from, what I did, whether I preferred Cosmopolitan or Old Fashioned¡ªbut he wasn¡¯t fooling anyone.


    He knew, and he was dying to get the story behind why his good friend Ashton had suddenly decided to wife me up.


    I yed dumb, smiled sweetly, and answered every question without telling him a damn thing.


    When the party finally broke up, Yvaine found me, clung to my arm and slurred, ¡®I¡¯m taking you home, babe. Come on. My car¡¯s... somewhere.¡¯


    I rolled my eyes. ¡®Yve, I¡¯ve had, like, three drinks. You can barely spell your own name right now.¡¯


    Cassian peeled her off me. ¡®I¡¯ll take you.¡¯


    ¡®Thanks, but don¡¯t worry about me. It¡¯ste and I¡¯m not even on your way. I¡¯ll just grab a cab.¡¯


    He hesitated. ¡®Ash asked me to¡ª¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s fine.¡¯ I smiled. ¡®I can take care of myself.¡¯


    ¡®You sure?¡¯


    ¡®Positive. Good night, Yve. Goodbye, Cassian.¡¯


    I ordered a ride and headed back to Oakwood.


    There used to be just two guards at the front gate.


    Now there were five.


    All burly, all alert, and all apparently recognised me by the head tilt they gave me as I passed.


    Ashton had hired them after Rhys barged his way into the buildingst time.


    Even though he was off on somest-minute business trip, he still made sure Cassian was keeping an eye on me at Yvaine¡¯s party.


    Still had security beefed up at the building.


    He never said a word about it, though. Just did the thing.


    I hadn¡¯t drunk much, but by the time I got upstairs, the night hit me all at once.


    I stripped, showered, and flopped straight into bed without setting an rm.


    It was the weekend, after all.


    I woke up to the sun roasting my face and my phone shrieking like a banshee.


    Squinting, I fumbled around until I saw the name on screen: Savannah Lane.


    That sobered me up real fast.


    Savannah never called me on weekends, not unless the building was on fire.


    I swiped to answer. ¡®Savannah¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Mirabelle Vance! Where the hell are you?! I¡¯ve called you three times. Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re still in bed.¡¯


    I nced at the screen.


    Two missed calls.


    Shit.


    ¡®I mean... technically, yes. It¡¯s Saturday, so¡ª¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s bloody Sunday!¡¯ she shrieked. ¡®And in case your beauty sleep turned you into a goldfish, today is the day Eliza ckes in to review the new jewellery pitch. You¡¯re at home? In your pyjamas?!¡¯


    I shot up so fast I nearly dislocated something.


    My phone screen helpfully reminded me: Sunday, 10:42 a.m.


    ¡®I thought she wasing tomorrow, Monday¡ª¡¯


    ¡®I told you they changed the date. Last week. She¡¯s a global A-lister, Mira, and she¡ª¡¯


    ¡®More like B-lister,¡¯ I mumbled.


    ¡®Shut up and listen! She cleared her schedule for Nyx Collective. She¡¯s here right now! You think she¡¯s gonna wait around because you needed an extra lie-in?¡¯


    ¡®No¡ªI mean yes¡ªI didn¡¯t get the update, I swear¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Save it.¡¯ Her voice cut clean through my panic. ¡®You want this project? You want your name on Eliza ck¡¯s red carpet looks? Then get your arse in here now. You¡¯re the best designer I¡¯ve got .Don¡¯t blow this because you slept through a calendar change.¡¯


    Click. She was gone.


    I sat there, stunned for about five seconds, then scrambled out of bed, tripped into my slippers, and raced to the bathroom.


    I hadn¡¯t seen any reschedule.


    No email. No message. Nothing.


    I¡¯d sworn it was set for Monday.


    Someone had screwed with me.


    No way that update just magically skipped over me.


    Someone¡ªcough Violet bloody Lin cough¡ªhad made damn sure I was left out of the loop.


    But I didn¡¯t have time to sit around cursing her name and plotting her slow demise.


    I¡¯d pulled three all-nighters for that pitch.


    Blood, sweat, and not nearly enough coffee went into that deck.


    Missing this meeting wasn¡¯t an option, not unless I wanted to kiss my shot at real industry cred goodbye.


    By the time I barrelled into Nyx Collective, it was past eleven.


    Every designer had already shown their proposals.


    Eliza ck¡¯s agent was halfway out the door, throwing Savannah a look that said ¡®wrap it up or I¡¯m walking¡¯.


    Savannah had begged. Negotiated. Maybe offered up her soul.


    Eventually, the agent had relented.


    Ten minutes, no more.


    I made it into the conference room on the final minute of that countdown.


    I was a mess¡ªsweaty from sprinting up five flights of stairs, hair wild like I¡¯d just crawled out of a wind tunnel.


    My blouse was sticking to my back, and I couldn¡¯t feel my left leg.


    Eliza ck was perched at the front of the room in head-to-toe ck, a designer mask covering most of her face.


    Just her eyes showing, sharp and watchful.


    She looked exactly like she did on screen.


    Only now, she wasn¡¯t smiling.


    Gone was the grinning, bubbly pop princess.


    This Eliza was ice.


    Still, silent, judgemental.


    And probably five seconds away from standing up and walking the hell out.

 Chapter 60 - 61 Two-faced Intern

    <h4>Chapter 60: Chapter 61 Two-faced Intern</h4>


    I didn¡¯t bother with a sob story.


    Just apologised for the dy andunched straight into my pitch.


    I tugged my shirt into ce and let the projector warm up, using those precious seconds to steady my breathing and slow my heart down from hummingbird-on-espresso mode.


    They weren¡¯t looking at sketches yet, just raw concept.


    I called mine BloomState.


    Every piece was based on the fleeting moments flowers go through.


    I started with the bud: tiny stud earrings, twisted into a barely-there spiral.


    Then came the open heart ne. A stylised bloom, fully open.


    The Seed Pod Ring was the show-off. All structure and sharp angles, but with a kind of quiet rhythm to it.


    And finally, the Dewdrop Cor. Fine chain, light-catching stones that looked like drops of morning dew.


    I¡¯d studied Eliza ck¡¯s whole catalogue, stalked every fan theory thread, and read every fashion blogger¡¯s take.


    She was known for being yful, but this was going to rebrand her as a bloody icon.


    Halfway through, I found my rhythm.


    My voice evened out, and my words stopped tripping over each other.


    Eliza didn¡¯t react.


    Not a blink, not a twitch, not even a polite nod.


    She just sat there, still masked, legs crossed, arms folded, the human equivalent of a locked phone screen.


    But at least she didn¡¯t look like she was about to bolt anymore.


    As soon as I wrapped, her agent stood up. ¡®She has a shoot. We¡¯re already runningte. Will let you know our decision soon.¡¯


    And they were gone.


    The second the door shut, Savannah rounded on me.


    ¡®Do you know how many people were sat here twiddling their thumbs waiting on you? If I hadn¡¯t begged and bartered like a bloody hostage negotiator, they¡¯d have walked!¡¯


    I didn¡¯t argue.


    I didn¡¯t need to.


    Savannah had a mouth like a guillotine but a heart made of marshmallow.


    She wasn¡¯t mad at me.


    She was mad at how close I¡¯de to flushing the opportunity of the year down the toilet.


    I swigged an entire bottle of mineral water before I could speak.


    ¡®Savannah, babe, I swear I didn¡¯t know they changed the time. If I¡¯d known the meeting was today, do you seriously think I¡¯d have been at home passed out in my pyjamas?¡¯


    She squinted at me.


    I could see the gears grinding behind her smoky eyeliner.


    She knew me.


    I wasn¡¯t the kind to ditch work without a damn good reason.


    I¡¯d de nights voluntarily, just to use the studio¡¯s centrifugal caster when no one else was hogging it.


    Frence or not, I¡¯d earned my stripes.


    Then Savannah turned her head slowly and aimed thatser re at Chloe Shaw.


    ¡®Did you not tell Mira the meeting time was moved?¡¯


    The admin assistant looked like a startled fawn caught in headlights.


    Chloe was fresh off probation, officially signed onst month, and still walked like she hadn¡¯t broken in her heels yet.


    ¡®I did! I told her!¡¯ Her voice took on a whiny, panicky edge. ¡®I told everyone, like, two days ago. I swear I told Mira. I said it to her in person. There¡¯s no way she didn¡¯t know.¡¯


    I snapped myptop shut. ¡®Funny. I haven¡¯t seen you in days. What time exactly did you tell me? Give me the full deets, timestamp and all.¡¯


    Her face twitched. ¡®It was right before the end of the day, around 4:30? Savannah told me it was super important everyone knew, so I told everyone one by one. Just to be safe. Face-to-face.¡¯


    A voice piped up behind me. ¡®Yeah, Chloe was really clear about it. Kept reminding me like ten times. You don¡¯t get interns this conscientious anymore.¡¯


    I nced sideways.


    The guy piping up had Violet Lin¡¯s scent all over him¡ªsame fake charm, same smug loyalty.


    Her little fan club had clearly rehearsed their lines ahead of time.


    My eyes chilled.


    I turned to Chloe Shaw and asked, slowly, like I was offering her ast chance to stop digging her grave, ¡®If you really came to tell me, in the office, on Friday afternoon, then someone must¡¯ve seen you. Who can back you up?¡¯


    ¡®I, ah, I went to you when the office was empty. No one was around. So... no, no one saw me.¡¯


    Iughed.


    Not a haha-funnyugh.


    More of a you¡¯ve-got-to-be-fucking-kidding-meugh.


    ¡®Right. Four-thirty, just before clock-out? You expect me to believe the entire floor was a ghost town?¡¯


    There wasn¡¯t a single day when that ce was quiet at 4:30.


    People were usually hovering by the printer, bitching about deadlines, stealing snacks from the breakroom, or pretending to work while online shopping.


    I folded my arms and stared her down. ¡®If no one saw you, no one can back up your story. Maybe you should¡¯ve thought of a better lie than that.¡¯


    Her lips trembled.


    Then the tears came¡ªmessy, theatrical, just the right amount of pitiful to stir sympathy in the cheap seats.


    ¡®Mirabelle, I swear I told you! Why would I lie? I know you think I¡¯m inexperienced. Fine, I am just a fresh grad, but I take my job seriously. It means everything to me. You can¡¯t say that... you¡¯ll get me fired!¡¯


    Violet Lin glided over and handed Chloe a tissue. ¡®Mira,e on. Chloe¡¯s never had any beef with you. Why would she leave you out on purpose? You werete and you¡¯re justshing out at a newbie.¡¯


    Another one jumped in. ¡®Yeah, poor Chloe. She¡¯d never do that on purpose. Look at her. She¡¯s crushed.¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯s the first one in,st one out. Always working her arse off. Don¡¯t throw her under the bus like that.¡¯


    The crowd murmured their approval.


    Apparently, I was now the wicked witch who picked on interns for sport.


    I let out a slow breath. ¡®I haven¡¯t even raised my voice, and she¡¯s already sobbing like I keyed her car. No one saw you tell me, Chloe. You¡¯ve got no proof. I¡¯m the one you were allegedly talking to, and I don¡¯t remember it happening. Make that make sense. Or we can just check the security footage.¡¯


    Her eyes were red, nose running, full-on ugly crying now. ¡®I did tell you, I swear! It just so happened no one saw it. You werete, you almost screwed everything up, and now you¡¯re ming me because you¡¯re scared of getting in trouble!¡¯


    She sniffled. ¡®If you really want to throw usations at me, fine. I¡¯m the lowest-ranking nobody here. All I do is fetch coffee and alphabetise the stationery cupboard. I¡¯ll just quit.¡¯


    And boom¡ªcrowd reaction.


    Gasps. Murmurs. An entire chorus of ¡®don¡¯t quit, Chloe¡¯s bursting out like she¡¯d just announced she had two days to live.


    ¡®Alright, enough!¡¯


    Savannah smacked the table like a judge.


    ¡®I don¡¯t care if Chloe forgot to pass the message or if Mirabelle hit snooze too many times. This mess ends now. From today on, everymunication gets documented¡ªtext, email, whatever. Meeting over.¡¯


    The crowd scattered.


    I left with my jaw tight and my face frozen in neutral.


    Right before I reached the door, I caught Violet Lin watching me, smirking.

 Chapter 61 - 62 I Quit

    <h4>Chapter 61: Chapter 62 I Quit</h4>


    Minutester, Violet Lin sashayed back to her desk.


    Her smug little smirk said it all: she thought she¡¯d bagged the project.


    As she passed me, she let out a little scoff.


    Had she pulled something shady again? Probably.


    I didn¡¯t bite. Didn¡¯t even blink in her direction.


    My proposal was solid.


    But showing upte this morning was a stain I couldn¡¯t scrub off.


    If I were Eliza ck, I wouldn¡¯t trust someone who couldn¡¯t read a clock either.


    Thirty agonising minutester, Savannah stepped out of the office with her phone still in hand.


    From the look on her face, she¡¯d just hung up.


    ¡®Eliza ck¡¯s people got back to us,¡¯ she said, scanning the room. ¡®She picked Violet Lin.¡¯


    Silence.


    Then¡ª


    ¡®Really?¡¯ Violet gasped, one hand clutched to her cheek like she¡¯d just been proposed to. ¡®Eliza ck actually picked me?¡¯


    Savannah nodded. ¡®Yes. Prep starts now. Contract¡¯s getting signed tomorrow. The budget¡¯s generous, and this project¡¯s top priority. Violet, build your team. Everyone else, give her full support. I want apleted design draft on my desk as soon as humanly possible.¡¯


    ¡®Got it,¡¯ Violet chirped.


    Her eyes locked on me.


    I knew that look.


    Knew exactly what she was about to pull.


    ¡®Mirabelle,¡¯ she said, sugary sweet. ¡®Be my assistant?¡¯


    Assistant?


    Please.


    That was just a fancy word for errand girl in Violet¡¯s dictionary.


    The kind who fetchesttes and hauls garment bags up five flights of stairs because the lift¡¯s out¡ªyeah, that kind.


    I¡¯d seen her pull this stunt before.


    She called it team building.


    I called it hazing.


    Last time, she ran some poor intern into the ground, sent her up and down the building so many times the girl nearly passed out.


    The girl quit the day after.


    I would¡¯ve too.


    And now she was trying it on me.


    Across the room, Savannah caught my eye.


    I didn¡¯t say anything, just raised my brow a fraction.


    She knew it wasn¡¯t protocol for one designer to ypdog to another.


    But Violet got in first.


    ¡®This project¡¯s a big deal,¡¯ she said, all sweet and reasonable. ¡®I just want to make sure there are no mistakes. Mirabelle, you¡¯re okay with helping out, right? If Eliza ck¡¯s happy, that¡¯s a win for all of us. Gotta think about thepany.¡¯


    Savannah hesitated, lips pursed.


    ¡®Violet¡¯s the lead, we¡¯ll go with her arrangement,¡¯ she said.


    Her tone was t, but her eyes flicked to me.


    She wasn¡¯t thrilled either.


    Too bad the client had already picked sides.


    Violet was about two seconds away from gloating when I leaned back in my chair and said, ¡®Yeah, no. I¡¯m not doing it.¡¯


    Her smile twitched.


    I was still fuming about the job being yanked from under me, and now Violet had the nerve to bounce over like a rabid cheerleader, trying to stick me with the grunt work.


    Hell no.


    Seniority. Skill. Portfolio.


    I ticked every damn box.


    At Nyx Collective, I wasn¡¯t just a designer¡ªI was THE designer.


    I¡¯d rather jump in front of a moving bus than work as Violet¡¯s assistant.


    I stood. ¡®Not happening. I¡¯m taking leave.¡¯


    Violet blinked, fake-shocked. ¡®Oh, don¡¯t be dramatic. It¡¯s just one project. You¡¯re not seriously quitting because you don¡¯t wanna assist me?¡¯


    Then she got all performative. ¡®If you were the lead designer and I had to assist, I¡¯d totally cooperate.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s cute,¡¯ I said. ¡®But if I were the lead, I¡¯d rather rope in Paul the Octopus to help me sketch than let you anywhere near my project. At least he had better uracy. And taste. Besides, I don¡¯t need this job badly enough to y your stooge.¡¯


    Violet didn¡¯t expect me to hit back that hard.


    Her eyes narrowed, and she slithered closer.


    ¡®Mira,e on, we both know you need this job. You¡¯ve got no family backing you, and I heard the wedding with Rhys Granger got called off. If you lose this job too... how are you gonna survive?¡¯


    I barked augh. ¡®Worried about me? Thanks, but save it. What you really need to worry about is yourself. When Eliza ck shows up in your design looking like a cautionary tale, you won¡¯t just be losing face like you did at the Laurent party. This time, it¡¯ll be international. Front row, high-def, full-on global humiliation. Should be fun.¡¯


    That shut her up.


    Then my phone buzzed on the table.


    I picked it up, expecting some spam or another passive-aggressive group chat message.


    Nope.


    It was a text from the bank.


    ount bnce update.


    I blinked.


    Counted the zeroes.


    Twice.


    Two. Million. Dors.


    What the actual¡ª?


    I figured the bank had glitched or something.


    Like, maybe it identally thought I was Alice Walton for the day.


    Then another message buzzed through, this time from Dominic Everett, Ashton¡¯s assistant.


    [Mrs Laurent, Mr Laurent has requested a new card be issued in your name. A monthly deposit of one million will be made as agreed. An additional million is Mr Laurent¡¯s personal gift to you. Please confirm receipt.]


    I stared at the screen for two whole minutes.


    Not blinking. Not breathing.


    ¡®As agreed¡¯?


    When had I agreed to receive a million dors from Ashton?


    And from the sound of it, this was going to be a monthly thing.


    I didn¡¯t marry Ashton for his money.


    Hell, I barely listened to whatever he said in the dark hallway that day; I was too busy ogling.


    But now, with two million just chilling in my ount like it was pocket change, I couldn¡¯t lie¡ªI felt it in my bones.


    Money really did p different.


    Sure, I¡¯d always known Ashton was rich, but this was the moment it truly hit me.


    I was now officially one of those people who could buy a whole boutique just because the salesgirl looked at me funny.


    Across from me, Violet Lin waved a hand in front of my face. ¡®Earth to Mira. Why are you staring at your phone so hard? Trying to find another job already?¡¯


    I blinked out of it, shoved my phone into my bag, and got to my feet.


    When Violet tried to block my path, I shouldered her aside.


    Everyone in the studio turned to gape at me.


    I shot them all a look, grabbed my bag, and announced: ¡®I quit, bitches!¡¯

 Chapter 62 - 63 Silver Spoon Treatment

    <h4>Chapter 62: Chapter 63 Silver Spoon Treatment</h4>


    It wasn¡¯t until I¡¯d strutted out of the building that I realised maybe I¡¯d been a tad impulsive.


    But holy shit, it felt good.


    I was halfway down the street when my phone rang.


    ¡®Mrs Laurent,¡¯ Dominic greeted.


    I physically flinched.


    Hearing it out loud was way worse than seeing it in a text.


    ¡®Mr Everett.¡¯


    ¡®Please, just call me Dom. I just wanted to remind you,¡¯ he went on, all polite and corporate, ¡®that if there¡¯s no activity on the card, the ount will be frozen before the next monthly deposit.¡¯


    I stopped dead on the pavement. ¡®What do you mean ¡°frozen¡±?¡¯


    ¡®I mean you must spend the funds. There needs to be a transaction history, or the ount locks automatically.¡¯


    I stared at my reflection in a shop window.


    My mouth opened.


    Nothing came out.


    What the hell kind of bougie, dystopian Barbie card needed ¡®mandatory spending¡¯?


    ¡®Um, got it. Thanks, Dominic.¡¯


    Just as I was about to hang up, he added, ¡®When will you be moving in with Mr Laurent?¡¯


    Oh, right. The move.


    That little formality I¡¯d been pretending didn¡¯t exist.


    ¡®I¡¯m free this week, so¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Perfect. Let¡¯s do today. I¡¯ll bring the team to Oakwood Apartments now.¡¯


    ¡®Wait, I don¡¯t need¡ª¡¯


    He hung up.


    I bolted straight back to Oakwood.


    When I got there, Dominic was already outside the building, standing next to three strangers.


    ¡®Mrs Laurent,¡¯ he said with a smooth smile, ¡®this is Mr Laurent¡¯s housekeeper, and these two are household staff. They¡¯ll assist you with the packing.¡¯


    ¡®Right. Cool. Thanks, everyone,¡¯ I said, giving them a nod like I did this sort of thing all the time and wasn¡¯t screaming internally.


    They moved like a corporate SWAT team¡ªefficient, silent, scarily precise.


    Within an hour, my entire life was bubble-wrapped and boxed.


    The ce was scrubbed clean like I never existed.


    Not a stray sock, not a rogue bobby pin, not even a ghost ofst night¡¯s takeaway.


    I¡¯d nned on keeping the t for a rainy-day escape.


    But nope, Dominic¡¯s crew went full Marie Kondo on it, and now the vibe was less ¡®backup home¡¯ and more ¡®sterile Airbnb¡¯.


    ¡®Mrs Laurent, shall we?¡¯ The housekeeper, Geoffrey Croft¡ªmid-forties, crisp ent, dressed like a high-end funeral nner¡ªstood at attention by the SUV, ready to cart me off to Ashton¡¯sir.


    Man had manners like he¡¯d been downloaded straight from Downton Abbey.


    I nodded. ¡®Yeah. Let¡¯s go.¡¯


    I already knew Ashton didn¡¯t live in the main Laurent mansion¡ªthe one that hosted that horror show of a party.


    Geoffrey told me his boss preferred a more low-key residence.


    Well, Ashton¡¯s version of ¡®low-key¡¯ turned out to be a three-storey white vi that looked almost humble from the outside¡ªright up till the gates opened.


    There was a driveway.


    A parking lot.


    An actual swimming pool.


    A tennis court.


    An outdoor barbecue area.


    Even a bloody vegetable garden.


    Dominic gave me a curt nod. ¡®I¡¯ll head back to the office, Mrs Laurent. Geoffrey will show you around.¡¯


    ¡®Right. Thanks. See you.¡¯


    Geoffrey led me around the grounds.


    The backyard had a swing hanging from an old oak tree.


    It looked just like the one from my childhood home.


    ¡®Mr Laurent has been living abroad for several years,¡¯ Geoffrey exined. ¡®He purchased this property some time ago but only started living here this year. It was just me and one other housekeeper until recently. More staff have joined since. If anyone falls short, please do let me know.¡¯


    I gave him a nod. ¡®Noted.¡¯


    Inside, the house was ridiculous.


    Each floor felt like it had its own postcode.


    Spa room, indoor cinema, security control hub, panic room.


    But I nodded along as Geoffrey prattled on.


    Couldn¡¯t have the staff thinking I was just some pretty face who didn¡¯t know the difference between a wine cer and a weapons vault.


    By the time we wrapped the tour, my feet were dead and my brain was mush.


    I crawled into bed for what was meant to be a ten-minute lie-down and passed out like a corpse.


    When I woke up, the sky was pitch-ck and someone was knocking on the door.


    ¡®Mrs Laurent, it¡¯s Carmen Alvarez,¡¯ a woman¡¯s voice said.


    Probably the other housekeeper Geoffrey told me about.


    ¡®Mrs Laurent, Dinner¡¯s almost ready.¡¯


    Mrs Laurent.


    Ugh.


    That title still felt like a boot I hadn¡¯t broken in yet.


    ¡®Thanks, I¡¯ll be right down,¡¯ I said, after a beat.


    I threw on my clothes, shoved my feet into new slippers that were magically my size, and padded downstairs.


    Ashton had texted earlier saying he wouldn¡¯t be back tonight, and I¡¯d damn near done a cartwheel.


    The dining table looked like it belonged in a Michelin ad, everything ted so precisely it made me want to ruin it just out of spite.


    I ate like I hadn¡¯t tasted real food in years.


    Before I could even set my fork down, a staff member swept in and cleared the table.


    Then another guy showed up, all smiles and polish. ¡®Would you prefer a digestif or coffee, madam?¡¯


    ¡®Coffee would be nice, thanks.¡¯


    ¡®Any preference? With cream? Sugar?¡¯


    ¡®Just cream, no sugar.¡¯


    ¡®We have Jamaican Blue Mountain, Hawaiian Kona, or Saint Helena. Fresh ground, of course.¡¯


    Before I could process any of that, he was already moving on. ¡®Would you care for a stroll through the grounds? I¡¯d be happy to show you the way. Or perhaps ap in the pool? I¡¯ll heat it right away if you like.¡¯


    I waved him off.


    The whole thing was too much.


    I wasn¡¯t used to all this silver spoon treatment.


    Sure, my family was well-off, but nothing close to this whole being-waited-on-hand-and-foot level.


    But now I was Ashton¡¯s wife.


    On paper, at least.


    And I had to y the role just convincingly enough that no one started asking questions they weren¡¯t supposed to.

 Chapter 63 - 64 Jewellery Porn

    <h4>Chapter 63: Chapter 64 Jewellery Porn</h4>


    My first night at the house passed without incident, and without a single sighting of Ashton.


    Next morning, I jolted awake to my rm before remembering¡ªI¡¯d torched my job at Nyx Collective.


    Just as I was basking in my unemployment glow, someone knocked on the door.


    ¡®Come in.¡¯


    Carmen Alvarez stepped in, followed by what looked like half the staff of Harrods on ck Friday.


    Racks of clothes, shoe boxes stacked like Jenga towers, handbags, coats, dresses for every season and asion¡ªall designer, all new, all in my size.


    ¡®I¡¯ll arrange these in the closet,¡¯ Carmen said, already directing her team like a runway general.


    ¡®There¡¯s no need. Really. I don¡¯t need this many clothes. Just send them back,¡¯ I said after gawking for a full minute.


    ¡®These were selected from Mr Laurent¡¯s preferred designers. All pieces are custom-ordered for you. Returns aren¡¯t part of the arrangement.¡¯


    I was halfway to telling her where to stick the ¡®arrangement¡¯ when it hit me¡ªright, the role.


    Ashton¡¯s doting wife wouldn¡¯t pitch a fit about couture.


    I pasted on a smile that was more grimace than anything and nodded.


    While Carmen¡¯s crew buzzed around the walk-in, Geoffrey Croft appeared, bncing trays on both arms.


    This time, I sat up straighter.


    The trays were lined with velvet boxes.


    Jewellery.


    Now he had my attention.


    Geoffrey opened one box at a time.


    A tinum ne with Colombian emeralds cut so clean they looked radioactive.


    A cuff bracelet in brushed rose gold with pav¨¦ diamonds wrapped in a helix design.


    One pair of earrings had sapphires so deep and inky they looked like bottled midnight.


    The craftsmanship made me want to cry and then steal it all.


    ¡®There will be fresh deliveries every month,¡¯ Geoffrey said. ¡®Thetest from Mr Laurent¡¯s usual ateliers.¡¯


    I barely heard him.


    My hands were twitching like a toddler in a toy store.


    This was basically porn for a jewellery designer.


    I spent the rest of the morning cocooned in my room, surrounded by enough gemstones to fund a minor coup.


    If Ashton had walked in right then, I might¡¯ve kissed him to Sunday and back, no questions asked.


    When Carmen knocked on my door for what had to be the twentieth time, I reluctantly peeled myself off the carpet, where I¡¯d been having a deeply spiritual moment with a tray of diamond chokers, and trudged downstairs for breakfast.


    Post-eggs-and-something-I-couldn¡¯t-pronounce, I headed back to my room and yanked out my old BloomState pitch.


    It had already been rejected, sure, but I wasn¡¯t ready to bin it.


    I liked it. A lot.


    It wasn¡¯t some trend-chasing fluff cooked up to impress Eliza.


    It was personal.


    I¡¯d poured too much of myself into this one.


    Might as well flesh it out properly, turn it into something real.


    I¡¯d already decided when I opened my own jewellery studio, BloomState would be the first line Iunched.


    Besides, the jewellery haul this morning had totally juiced my inspiration.


    Seeing all those pieces from Cartier, Graff, Boucheron...


    It was like taking a masterss in stone setting, symmetry, and detail.


    I scribbled a few newyout ideas, reworked my bezel cements, fiddled with a hybrid w tension mount I¡¯d never quite cracked.


    Then my phone rang.


    ¡®Hello?¡¯


    ¡®Hi, Mira, it¡¯s me, Finn.¡¯


    ¡®Yes, my favouritewyer.¡¯


    He snorted. ¡®Ten bucks says I¡¯m the onlywyer you know.¡¯


    ¡®Ha, you caught me.¡¯


    ¡®Are you busy right now?¡¯


    I spun a pencil between my fingers. ¡®Believe it or not, I¡¯m free as a bird.¡¯


    ¡®On a Monday morning?¡¯


    ¡®Long story. What¡¯s up?¡¯


    ¡®I was gonna ask if you could meetter this evening, but if you¡¯re free, wannae down to my office now? It¡¯s about the case.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯ve reviewed the stuff I sent you?¡¯


    ¡®All of it. Audio, video, it¡¯s an absolute goldmine. Since the defamation¡¯s both written and spoken, I¡¯m amending theint to include libel and nder. More charges, more damages, as wewyers like to say.¡¯


    ¡®Good.¡¯


    ¡®I need to go over it all with you¡ªevidence, potential witnesses, rough timeline, damage estimates, the works.¡¯


    ¡®Sounds like a long meeting.¡¯


    ¡®Might be. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll buy you lunch if we go over.¡¯


    ¡®Deal.¡¯


    Geoffrey offered to have the car brought round, but I waved him off; I was already feeling like Elly May mpett from The Beverly Hillbillies.


    At Finn¡¯s office, he looked like something out of ¡®Suits¡¯, all pressed lines and smugpetence.


    ¡®Damn, you clean up well,¡¯ I said.


    He grinned. ¡®Court appearance this afternoon. Gotta look the part or the judge assumes I still live with my mum.¡¯


    We got into the case while a paralegal made notes.


    Somewhere between dissecting screenshots and ying a particrly juicy voice memo, we took a break.


    Finn leaned back. ¡®Gotta say, I was shocked when I found out you and Rhys were a thing. Even more shocked when I heard you weren¡¯t. But after hearing all this,¡¯ he gestured at the mountain of evidence I¡¯d brought, ¡®I¡¯m honestly surprised you didn¡¯t dump him sooner.¡¯


    I gave a ruefulugh. ¡®Yeah, love is blind, deaf, and possibly concussed. Took me forever to realise he wasn¡¯t the man I thought he was.¡¯


    ¡®So... you single now?¡¯ he asked, like it was nothing.


    My brain immediately sprinted to Ashton.


    And our fake marriage.


    And the fact that I didn¡¯t have a ring to prove it.


    I must¡¯ve paused too long, because Finn backtracked with a wince. ¡®Sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to¡ª¡¯


    ¡®No, it¡¯s fine,¡¯ I cut in. ¡®I¡¯m not dating anyone right now.¡¯


    Which, strictly speaking, wasn¡¯t a lie.


    Finn checked his watch. ¡®You hungry? Let¡¯s head out for lunch.¡¯


    ¡®Sure,¡¯ I said, grabbing my phone and standing up. ¡®But I¡¯m buying.¡¯


    He chuckled. ¡®Alright, but I¡¯m picking the ce. There¡¯s this little bistro near Park & Fifth. They¡¯ve got the best spicy Cacio e Pepe in the city.¡¯


    I blinked. ¡®Ha. You remembered.¡¯


    ¡®Of course I did.¡¯


    Minutester, we slid into a booth at the bistro and ordered.


    Once the waiter left, I leaned back and said, ¡®So. Catch me up. What¡¯s life been like post-graduation? You know my story now. What about yours? Seeing anyone?¡¯


    He shook his head. ¡®Lawyer life¡¯s a ck hole. Billing hours kills romance. Plus... I¡¯m waiting for the right girl.¡¯

 Chapter 64 - 65 Ashton’s POV: Red Flag

    <h4>Chapter 64: Chapter 65 Ashton¡¯s POV: Red g</h4>


    While Mirabelle was sitting in the bistro with Finn, ten miles away and sixty-eight floors up, Ashton finally found out¡ªsecond-hand¡ªthat she was suing Rhys Granger.


    The moment the ss doors to his office swung shut, Ashton hurled a thick stack of contracts straight at Cassian Langford¡¯s chest.


    The hitnded with a meaty smack.


    ¡®Why the hell didn¡¯t you tell me earlier?¡¯


    Cassian stumbled back, one hand catching the papers, the other pped to his ribs. ¡®Jesus, mate, trying to bruise a lung or what?¡¯


    Ashton didn¡¯t answer.


    The tension in his jaw said plenty.


    Cassian straightened, rubbing at his ribs with exaggerated ir. ¡®Look, I didn¡¯t know either, alright? It¡¯s not like Rhys and I are besties in a group chat. How the fuck was I supposed to know he was running his mouth?¡¯


    ¡®Then how do you know now?¡¯


    ¡®Yvaine¡¯s birthday party. Mirabelle had a go at him. Rhys and his girlfriend were both there. Things got... messy. I just kinda forgot to mention it.¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s jaw flexed again.


    His eyes were already dark, but now they looked like wet asphalt before a storm.


    ¡®When was her birthday?¡¯


    ¡®Three days ago? You told me to go, remember?¡¯


    Another folder mmed into Cassian¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡®And what exactly did I tell you to do at that party? Ogle the influencers? I said watch Mirabelle. That prick Granger was dragging her name through the dirt and you didn¡¯t think to open your mouth?¡¯


    Cassian held up his hands. ¡®Look, it wasn¡¯t that bad. Yvaine backed her up, and Rhys fucked off with his girlfriend. Situation handled. Plus, Mirabelle¡¯s got awyer. She¡¯s already suing him. What more can you do?¡¯


    Ashton jabbed the inte. ¡®Get Legal up here. Now.¡¯


    Cassian sank into an armchair and watched while Ashtonunched a barrage of clipped instructions at the head of Legal.


    Once the door clicked shut behind thewyer, Cassian gave Ashton a slow once-over and clicked his tongue.


    ¡®What?¡¯


    Cassian clicked again, grinning. ¡®Just... never seen you like this. You¡¯re properly gone for her, aren¡¯t you?¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s answer was bone-dry. ¡®Didn¡¯t I tell you at The Rookery?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah, yeah. About how you met her years ago and it was all fate and stardust or whatever. But I don¡¯t get the same energy from her, you know?¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡®What energy.¡¯


    ¡®The one you¡¯re radiating right now.¡¯ Cassian pointed at him. ¡®That look on your face whenever her namees up. You need a mirror, mate. You¡¯re practically glowing. Your eyes are sparkling like a fucking TikTok filter.¡¯


    ¡®If you¡¯ve got time to sit there sounding like an extra from Gossip Girl, you¡¯ve got time to leave.¡¯


    Cassian smirked. ¡®What, are you shy now? Come on, Ash, we¡¯ve been through hell together. I thought I¡¯d seen every version of you. Turns out I missed the one who acts like a high school kid on his first date.¡¯


    Ashton flicked him a nce. ¡®Not all of us were teenage Don Juans.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯d prefer to be called a young DiCaprio. Anyway, I was chatting with her at Yvaine¡¯s party, right? Tried to dig a little. For your sake, obviously.¡¯


    ¡®I told you to keep an eye on her. Not interrogate her.¡¯


    Cassian raised both hands. ¡®Whoa, calm down. If it¡¯s illegal to be a concerned friend, throw the cuffs on. Anyway, I asked her a few things¡ªnormal stuff. She was polite, yeah, but guarded. Real careful. Didn¡¯t give me a damn thing I could use.¡¯


    Before Ashton could snap at him again, Cassian added in a hurry, ¡®Not that I was looking for things to use against her. But you know how it is, people in our circle burn each other for sport. Doesn¡¯t hurt to do due diligence, right?¡¯


    Ashton nodded for him to continue.


    ¡®Everyone knows about her and Rhys. They were engaged, what, three years? Four? That¡¯s practically a decade in our world. Then she dumps him and marries you in less time than it takes me to rece my tailor. You can¡¯t tell me that¡¯s not a red g.¡¯


    ¡®I told you already,¡¯ Ashton cut in, sharp. ¡®I pushed for the marriage. She didn¡¯t want it. I did.¡¯


    Cassian held his hands up again. ¡®Alright, alright. Don¡¯t bite my head off. I¡¯m just saying, if this isn¡¯t just another PR stunt and she¡¯s actually your wife-wife, then I should get to know her. She¡¯s gonna be part of your life, which means she¡¯s gonna be part of mine.¡¯


    Ashton didn¡¯t respond. His silence gave Cassian room to keep digging.


    ¡®So, yeah. I asked. Prodded a bit. And... I gotta be honest, man, I don¡¯t think she feels the same about you.¡¯


    Ashton stilled.


    Cassian pressed on. ¡®She didn¡¯t seem to remember Florence. Or Eindhoven. At least, not the way you remember them.¡¯


    The silence stretched.


    Ashton didn¡¯t flinch, didn¡¯t blink, didn¡¯t react at all.


    But Cassian had known him long enough to spot the way his shoulders lowered just a fraction.


    ¡®You didn¡¯t tell her, did you?¡¯ Cassian asked, more gently now.


    ¡®Tell her what?¡¯


    ¡®That you love her.¡¯


    Ashton turned away without answering.


    He walked to the window.


    The skyline pulsed under him, this city he¡¯d once sworn off.


    He¡¯de back anyway.


    For her.


    ¡®I haven¡¯t,¡¯ he said finally.


    ¡®Why the fuck not? If I like a girl, I tell her. ¡°Oi, be my girlfriend.¡± Done. If I¡¯m dumb enough to want to marry her¡ªGod forbid¡ªI¡¯ll just say it. But you? You¡¯ve been circling her like a damn border collie. You, of all people. Mr ¡°You¡¯re fired¡± before the coffee¡¯s cold. Now you¡¯re moving like every step might blow up.¡¯


    Ashton finally turned. ¡®If you were carrying a fifteenth-century Flemish reliquary, one-of-a-kind, irreceable, would you be sprinting with it?¡¯ He let that sit for a beat. ¡®Didn¡¯t think so.¡¯


    Cassian groaned, dragged a hand down his face. ¡®Jesus. Mirabelle¡¯s not a fragile relic, Ashton. She¡¯s a woman. A pretty tough one at that. You¡¯re acting like she¡¯ll crack if you breathe too hard near her.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t want to scare her off.¡¯ Ashton¡¯s voice dropped lower, rougher. ¡®She¡¯s not ready. Not yet.¡¯


    Not until he¡¯d erased Rhys Granger from every inch of her life.


    His fingers curled against the desk.


    The same fingers that had once skimmed her body.


    The same ones that had memorised the curve of her waist, the softness of her thigh, the exact moment she¡¯d stopped pulling away.


    Now they twitched like they wanted to smash something.


    Preferably Rhys¡¯s jawbone.


    Cassian looked at him sideways. ¡®You nning on waiting forever?¡¯

 Chapter 65 - 66 Netflix and Chill, in Reverse Order

    <h4>Chapter 65: Chapter 66 Netflix and Chill, in Reverse Order</h4>


    When I got back from Finn¡¯s office, Geoffrey greeted me with his usual calm face and a little bombshell.


    ¡®Mr Laurent will be dining at home tonight.¡¯


    Which meant he¡¯d probably be sleeping here tonight.


    Great.


    Not that I was expected to do the whole wife routine in bed¡ªthank God¡ªbut still, I was nervous.


    Dinner was being served when he walked in.


    We sat across from each other, all polished cutlery and polite silences.


    He looked like he was waiting for me to say something, but I had no idea what.


    Then he asked after the first course, ¡®I heard Rhys Granger¡¯s been telling people you cheated on him?¡¯


    I nodded.


    Soon, Rhys was going to get a nice little surprise in the form of awsuit.


    ¡®He¡¯s talking shit,¡¯ I said dismissively, reaching for my wine. ¡®Mywyer¡¯s on it.¡¯


    Ashton dished risotto onto my te with a serving spoon.


    He did it so naturally, like he¡¯d been doing it for ages instead of the first time.


    ¡®I always said Rhys Granger¡¯s unstable.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re probably right.¡¯ I stabbed a piece of asparagus. ¡®Well, this time, I¡¯m not letting it slide. He wants to lie, he can lie to the judge.¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s lips quirked.


    Barely.


    But I caught it.


    ¡®Let LGH¡¯s legal team handle it,¡¯ he said. ¡®They¡¯ve got more experience with this kind of thing.¡¯


    I stopped chewing and looked up slowly. ¡®Isn¡¯t that overkill?¡¯


    The LGH legal team handled mergers that shook stock markets.


    Using them to drag Rhys¡¯s sorry ass through court over a defamation case felt like bringing a bazooka to a pillow fight.


    ¡®Finn said the evidence is solid. He won¡¯t guarantee a win, but there¡¯s a good chance¡ª¡¯


    Ashton cut me off, ¡®You¡¯re Mrs Laurent. Mypany¡¯s legal team exists to protect our interests, and that now includes you. If Rhys thinks he can drag your name through the mud, he¡¯s picking a fight with me. LGH is getting involved whenever a Laurent¡¯s involved, that¡¯s protocol.¡¯


    ¡®Fine. I¡¯ll talk to Finn.¡¯ I wasn¡¯t sure if Finn would appreciate the extra legal muscle or resent the intrusion. ¡®He¡¯s already put a lot of effort into the case, though. Can he still run point?¡¯


    ¡®Sure.¡¯


    We dropped the subject.


    And with it, everyst scrap of conversation.


    The silence didn¡¯t just settle; it took up residence, moved in with a suitcase, and made itself at home between us.


    When I finished eating, I set my fork down and stared at my te.


    What now?


    Was I supposed to wait obediently like some Victorian housewife, or just stand up and leave like this was a public restaurant?


    Geoffrey was loitering nearby like a very polite ghost, another waiter nking him.


    Not exactly the people I could ask about post-dinner etiquette in a situationship.


    I racked my brain for a way to fill the silence.


    Small talk was a dead end¡ªI¡¯d already burned through the ssic ¡®how was your day¡¯ the moment Ashton sat down, and something told me he wouldn¡¯t be thrilled with a thirty-minute monologue on micro-pav¨¦ settings or the ethics of synthetic diamonds in haute joaillerie.


    There was something I wanted to ask, though.


    Was he sleeping here tonight?


    And more pressingly¡ªwhere?


    When Carmen and Geoffrey staged a surprise boutique explosion in my room that morning, there were no men¡¯s clothes in sight.


    But that didn¡¯t mean anything.


    Maybe Ashton had his own dressing room.


    Or maybe he didn¡¯t need sleep.


    Maybe he hung upside down in a hyperbaric chamber like some Armani-wrapped bat.


    But if I asked... would ite off wrong?


    It was his house, after all.


    He didn¡¯t need my permission to stay.


    If I sounded like I didn¡¯t want him here, that might be rude.


    On the other hand, if I sounded too curious, would it read like an invitation?


    Because let¡¯s be real, ¡®Are you sleeping here tonight?¡¯ sounds like a question only a hotel manager could pull off.


    Or a mistress checking her sugar daddy¡¯s schedule.


    I internally facepalmed. ¡®It¡¯s a yes or no question, dumbass,¡¯ I hissed at myself. ¡®Ask it. Use your mouth. You¡¯re not twelve.¡¯


    But a snarkier voice in my head rolled her eyes. ¡®It¡¯s Ashton Laurent. You don¡¯t casually ask him about his sleeping arrangements. If you had dinner with J P Morgan, you wouldn¡¯t ask if his hotel had turndown service. You¡¯d ask about interest rates. Or the future of the country¡¯s financial system.¡¯


    I risked a peek across the table.


    He was sitting there like the ghost of European nobility, sipping wine.


    His fingers, long, elegant, dusted with calluses, wrapped around the ss stem with effortless control.


    And when he swallowed, his Adam¡¯s apple shifted ever so slightly.


    I had the strongest, dumbest urge to lean over and lick it.


    Jesus.


    ¡®Look away, you thirsty gremlin,¡¯ I barked at myself. ¡®Stop leering like a perv.¡¯


    No wonder people always say ¡®movie, dinner, then sex.¡¯


    Or, in Gen Z speak, ¡®Netflix and chill¡¯, with the heavy emphasis on the ¡®chill¡¯.


    There¡¯s a rhythm to it. A build-up.


    Dinner after sex just felt... off.


    Like watching the end credits first, then hitting y.


    I¡¯d done it all backwards, jumped Ashton¡¯s bones before even learning his first name, married him after, and now here we were, eating risotto in weird, loaded silence like a couple on a first date who¡¯d already seen each other naked.


    It was just... awkward.


    I didn¡¯t know what the hell the next move was supposed to be.


    ¡®You don¡¯t have to wait for me,¡¯ Ashton said, not looking up. ¡®You can go do your thing.¡¯


    ¡®Great,¡¯ I said, already halfway to the stairs.

 Chapter 66 - 67 Ashton’s POV: She’s into Him… Maybe

    <h4>Chapter 66: Chapter 67 Ashton¡¯s POV: She¡¯s into Him... Maybe</h4>


    Ashton watched Mirabelle flee the dining room without a backwards nce.


    He set his wine ss down. ¡®How¡¯s she settling in?¡¯


    Geoffrey stepped forward. ¡®Mrs Laurent mostly stayed in her room and worked on her sketches. She dropped by aw firm earlier today. Came back right after.¡¯


    ¡®Stayed in? She didn¡¯t go to the office?¡¯


    He remembered her telling himst week about some big campaign Nyx Collective was prepping.


    A career-definingunch, apparently.


    He pulled out his phone.


    ¡®Find out what¡¯s going on at Nyx,¡¯ he said the second Cassian picked up. ¡®Ask Yvaine Carlisle. Don¡¯t make it obvious.¡¯


    Cassian groaned. ¡®Mate, I¡¯m your bloody best man, not your PA. Nor your wife¡¯s. Why don¡¯t you just ask Mirabelle yourself? Or are you two not on speaking terms?¡¯


    ¡®Do it.¡¯ Ashton hung up.


    He stared at the screen.


    Then at his untouched te.


    The steak tasted like cardboard.


    The wine like vinegar.


    Cassian¡¯s words pissed him off more than he cared to admit.


    He¡¯d married her.


    She¡¯d moved in.


    That was already a win, considering how allergic she was tomitment, post-Rhys.


    But that was about it.


    They lived in the same damn house, ate at the same table, and somehow she still looked at him like he was her boss during a performance review.


    Earlier, at dinner, her smile had been a dead giveaway.


    It was the same kind customer service reps gave¡ªpolite, nd, entirely devoid of meaning.


    Still, he hadn¡¯t missed the way her eyes kept darting over him when she thought he wasn¡¯t looking.


    Over his jaw, his hands, his throat.


    She didn¡¯t know what it did to him.


    Maybe she didn¡¯t realise her gaze had weight, like a touch he could feel without being touched, soft and slow and impossible to ignore, dragging heat across his skin wherever itnded.


    So yeah. She was into his body.


    At least there was that.


    But it was a transient, superficial, Chippendales-level interest¡ªshe was all in for the show, front row, drooling over the abs and hip thrusts... but she¡¯d never take the dancer home.


    Not when the lights came up.


    Not when real life started.


    Ashton ran a hand through his hair, annoyed with himself, with hisck of progress.


    He didn¡¯t want to be her temporary obsession, some aesthetic she yed with until the next whim took over.


    He wanted in.


    Into her thoughts, her trust, her fucking life.


    She¡¯d been used of something serious, and her first instinct was to go it alone.


    She didn¡¯t mention it to him.


    The thought of asking for his help probably never even crossed her mind.


    The tight, low-simmering frustration had been riding his nerves all day, and by midnight, it hit boiling point.


    Ashton¡¯s bedroom was on the east side of the second floor, two doors down from hers.


    As he stepped out to get water, his eyes flicked to the right.


    Light spilt from under Mirabelle¡¯s door.


    She seemed to be on the verge of stepping out.


    But the second she heard his door click open, she froze.


    Then¡ªfaster than a blink¡ªshe ducked back inside and killed the lights.


    So. She¡¯d wanted toe out too.


    Probably for water.


    Or a snack.


    Or something less innocent, if he let himself hope.


    But the second she clocked him, she bolted like the idea of being near him was worse than thirst.


    Ashton let out a slow breath, ran a hand through his hair, and walked downstairs without a backwards nce.


    He didn¡¯t want to spook her more than she already was.


    He filled a ss at the kitchen ind, then wandered over to the living room and dropped onto the leather sofa, phone in hand.


    From where he sat, he had a perfect view of her bedroom door upstairs.


    A sliver of it eased open.


    No lights inside, just ckness and a glint of curiosity.


    She peeked out.


    He didn¡¯t move.


    Didn¡¯t even look directly at her.


    The door snapped shut again.


    His mouth twitched.


    He sipped his water. Slowly.


    Took him ten minutes to finish it.


    Her door opened again.


    A crack.


    Then closed.


    Again.


    Closed.


    He leaned his head back against the sofa andughed under his breath, the sound bitter.


    She¡¯d rather get dehydrated than be stuck in the same space with him for five damn seconds?


    He clenched his phone in one hand and typed without looking.


    [You¡¯ve dated more girls than live in half the zip codes in Skyline. How the hell do you get them to fall for you?]


    He sent it to Cassian.


    Who took his sweet time replying.


    [Mate, it¡¯s two in the fucking morning. You need meds. Or a new friend. Or a brain doc. Mirabelle¡¯s already your wife. You¡¯ve got her exactly where you wanted. What more do you want? Her heart? Soul? Here¡¯s a link to Top 10 Ways to Be a Valentine Without Being a Psycho. You¡¯re wee. Now piss off and let me sleep.]


    Ashton mmed the phone face down into the sofa cushion.


    He should¡¯ve known better than to ask rtionship advice from a man who swapped girlfriends faster than most people changed razor des.


    Still, Cassian wasn¡¯t wrong about one thing¡ªhe¡¯d already got Mirabelle exactly where he wanted.


    She was under his roof now.


    There¡¯d be plenty of chances for... further interaction.


    He rinsed his ss in the kitchen sink, then made his way upstairs.


    But instead of heading into his room, he stopped right behind the door and waited, a juvenile thing he¡¯d never done before.


    Didn¡¯t take long.


    Light footsteps.


    Barely audible.


    Soft, fast, like someone trying not to be heard.


    She had to pass his room to get downstairs.


    He eased the door open a crack.


    There she was.


    Mirabelle was in a white slip, tiptoeing across the marble like a thief.

 Chapter 67 - 68 Ashton’s POV: His and Hers

    <h4>Chapter 67: Chapter 68 Ashton¡¯s POV: His and Hers</h4>


    Mirabelle was holding up the hem of her nightgown with two fingers, her steps careful and silent.


    No shoes.


    Just bare feet on cold ck stone, each step like a spotlight in the dark.


    Her skin looked warm against all that sleek obsidian.


    Pale. Almost glowing.


    Ashton¡¯s gaze tracked up the curve of her calves to the back of her thighs, then higher, past the sway of fabric.


    The dress clung to her hips and draped off her waist like it had been cut for temptation.


    Through the thin material, he caught the outline of her spine, the dip where her back met her hips, the faintest tease of her¡ª


    Ashton swallowed hard.


    Then shut the door.


    Fast. Quiet.


    Teeth clenched, jaw locked, forehead against the wood.


    ¡®Fucking pervert,¡¯ he muttered under his breath.


    He was supposed to be a grown man, not some hormonal teen hiding behind doors to stare at a woman¡¯s arse.


    He didn¡¯t move.


    Just stood there, breathing like he¡¯d run a mile, while she padded around downstairs.


    Eventually, he heard hering back up, just as sneakily as before.


    Once the footsteps passed his room, he peeled away from the door, grabbed a towel, and marched straight into the en suite.


    He needed a cold shower.


    A long one.


    ***


    Mirabelle was already there when Ashton came into the dining room the next morning.


    She¡¯d changed¡ªyellow jumper, jeans, fluffy socks.


    Cosy. Casual.


    Warm in a way that made his throat feel tight again, and not because of lust this time.


    She looked...fortable. Like she¡¯s finally settled into this ce.


    She yawned when she thought he wasn¡¯t looking.


    ¡®You don¡¯t need to get up this early,¡¯ he said, heading to the coffee machine. ¡®Got somewhere to be?¡¯


    She shrugged. ¡®Nah. I¡¯m on leave.¡¯


    He¡¯s heard all about it from Cassian¡ªthe new project, thepetition, the collegial rivalry.


    He even knew her boss, Savannah something, had called her repeatedly in the past couple of days, trying to get her toe back to Nyx.


    Mirabelle had said no.


    What was her n? To find another studio? Start her own? Take a sabbatical?


    More to the point, when did she n on telling him?


    After the fact? Over dinner?


    Or maybe never?


    Ashton pulled out a chair and sat across from her. ¡®Something happen at work?¡¯


    She stirred her coffee. ¡®Nothing huge. Just needed a break.¡¯


    That was a lie, obviously, but he didn¡¯t push.


    Not yet.


    They ate in silence for a few minutes.


    He nced at her over his toast. ¡®Got any ns today?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah. Gonna swing by thew firm again.¡¯ She gave him a quick smile. ¡®Your legal team¡¯s scary efficient. They emailed mest night.¡¯


    ¡®Good.¡¯ He nearly told her to have the meeting at the LGH building instead¡ªpreferably in his office¡ªbut bit it back.


    ¡®Then I¡¯ll catch up with Yvaine over tea.¡¯


    ¡®Let Geoffrey drive you.¡¯


    Mirabelle nced at the housekeeper, who beamed at her.


    She forced a polite smile, then turned back to Ashton. ¡®Public transport¡¯s fine. I don¡¯t wanna trouble anyone.¡¯


    ¡®You drive?¡¯


    She nodded. ¡®Got my licence in college.¡¯


    ¡®Then take one of the cars.¡¯


    Her fork paused mid-air. ¡®You mean one of those rare, probably one-of-a-kind cars in your garage? If I so much as scratched the bumper, I¡¯d have to sell a kidney just to cover the paint.¡¯


    He smiled, then frowned.


    He liked that she wasfortable enough to joke with him now, but he didn¡¯t like that she still saw the cars as his. Not hers.


    Definitely not theirs.


    ¡®Right. My mistake. Those have been sitting in the garage too long. Probably need a tune-up before they¡¯re road-ready. What do you like driving? I¡¯ll have one sent over.¡¯


    She dropped her fork like it¡¯d just bitten her. ¡®Um, no, thanks. Really. I barely drive. Like, ever. I¡¯d rather walk.¡¯


    ¡®Can¡¯t have people seeing you on the subway and thinking I¡¯m some tight-fisted bastard,¡¯ Ashton cut her off smoothly. ¡®So either you drive yourself, or someone drives you.¡¯


    Mirabelle shifted in her seat, trying to squirm out of it. ¡®Fine, I¡¯ll drive myself... I¡¯ve still got that card your assistant gave me the other day. I¡¯ll buy something. Speaking of that¡ª¡¯ she added, ¡®I don¡¯t remember us agreeing on a million-dor monthly transfer. Can you take it back?¡¯


    ¡®No,¡¯ he said tly, his tone edged with irritation. ¡®You¡¯re my wife. There¡¯s a certain image that needs maintaining. That means having a driver. A card that skips queues. VIP ess. The works. Non-negotiable.¡¯


    ¡®That wasn¡¯t in the deal,¡¯ she shot back.


    ¡®Was it not?¡¯ he murmured, hiding a smug smile behind his coffee mug. ¡®Maybe check the contract. Section Five. Subuse twenty.¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯ she blinked, then muttered under her breath, ¡®I don¡¯t even remember where the hell I shoved that damn thing.¡¯


    He remembered, but he wasn¡¯t about to tell her.


    He turned to Geoffrey and said, ¡®Take Mrs Laurent car shopping after breakfast.¡¯


    ¡®Nope,¡¯ she jumped in fast. ¡®Really. There¡¯s no need. I don¡¯t know a damn thing about cars anyway.¡¯


    Ashton didn¡¯t miss a beat. ¡®Then we¡¯ll have one delivered.¡¯


    Which had been the n from the start.


    Mirabelle mumbled something to herself and gave in reluctantly.


    After breakfast, she went upstairs to change.


    Ashton said to Geoffrey, ¡®Make sure she¡¯sfortable with whatever you get.¡¯


    ¡®Of course, sir.¡¯


    ¡®And... get one thates as a pair. The ¡°his and hers¡± type. Have mine delivered to the garage.¡¯

 Chapter 68 - 69 Rehearsal

    <h4>Chapter 68: Chapter 69 Rehearsal</h4>


    An hourter, Dominic delivered a red Ferrari.


    I took it out for a spin.


    Wind in my hair, sunsses on, death grip on the wheel.


    I couldn¡¯t even remember thest time I drove, and I barely hit twenty miles an hour, gliding down the street like a pensioner on sleeping pills.


    Geoffrey rode shotgun, grinning like a proud driving instructor, tossing outpliments like I was doingps at Silverstone.


    But after a few blocks, muscle memory kicked in.


    I loosened my grip, leaned back, and let the engine purr.


    When I pulled back into the drive, there was an actual smile on my face.


    ***


    That evening, just as I was about to retreat upstairs post-dinner, Ashton said, ¡®My grandfather¡¯s birthday¡¯sing up. We¡¯ll need to attend together.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah, I remember.¡¯ I stopped halfway up the stairs and shed him an OK sign. ¡®I¡¯ll be the perfect fake wife. Promise.¡¯


    ¡®The Laurents aren¡¯t idiots,¡¯ he said. ¡®Well, some of them, anyway. If we slip up, even slightly, they¡¯ll catch on. And if anyone starts thinking I¡¯m not serious about this... that I¡¯m using the marriage to manipte Grandfather¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Say no more. What do you need me to do?¡¯ I dropped onto the sofa across from him, still riding the high from the Ferrari and feeling uncharacteristically agreeable.


    He didn¡¯t answer right away.


    He crossed one leg over the other, long limbs folded like he was posing for a Vogue editorial without even trying.


    If this man ever got bored of being a powerful CEO, he¡¯d make a killing on magazine covers.


    Silence stretched again.


    Then:


    ¡®We could rehearse,¡¯ he said.


    Real calm. Real nonchnt.


    ¡®Sure.¡¯ I nodded.


    In my head, ¡®rehearse¡¯ meant something chill.


    A rundown of the backstory.


    A fake engagement 101.


    Maybe even a few lines to memorise so I didn¡¯t identally say we met on Bumble.


    What I got was... choreography.


    We stood side by side at the front door like a couple of understudies about to botch their big debut.


    Ashton said, ¡®We¡¯ll rehearse how we walk in.¡¯


    I stared at him. ¡®You¡¯re kidding.¡¯


    He wasn¡¯t.


    Apparently, we were doing blocking like it was West End week at the Laurent Estate.


    I half expected a stage manager to pop out with cue cards.


    It was kind of fun, but also... kind of awkward.


    At least the house was empty.


    Geoffrey and staff had cleared out, so there was no one lurking to watch me embarrass myself in socks and a faded hoodie.


    I rxed. Slightly.


    Then I nced down at my slippers, then back at him. ¡®We¡¯re going in dressed like this?¡¯


    ¡®The costumes wille inter,¡¯ he answered as if he hadn¡¯t realised I was kidding. ¡®If you walk in that stiff, they¡¯ll see right through it. Get closer.¡¯


    I shifted half a step towards him, already feeling weirdly self-conscious, then his handnded on my waist from behind and yanked me in like I was a prop that needed repositioning.


    I mmed against him, chest to chest, all breath and heartbeat and... fuck.


    I looked up, ready to make some crack about personal space.


    He was looking down.


    Our faces were so close I could smell his cologne and feel his breath on my cheek.


    I looked away. Fast.


    His hand didn¡¯t move.


    In fact, it tightened.


    ¡®Focus,¡¯ he murmured.


    ¡®Fine,¡¯ I muttered, eyes glued to the floor.


    He slid his arm more snugly around my waist and started walking us forward, leading like we were about to waltz into high society instead of the living room.


    We made it from the door to the sofa and back again.


    Twice.


    He stopped. ¡®No. This won¡¯t cut it. We¡¯re way too stiff. Anyone with eyes will know we¡¯re faking it.¡¯


    I licked my lips. ¡®So what do we do?¡¯


    ¡®We can¡¯t just walk like strangers and hope no one notices. If we want them to buy this, we need chemistry. Real intimacy. And we need to cultivate it.¡¯


    ¡®And how exactly do we ¡°cultivate¡± that?¡¯ I asked, air-quoting with my fingers.


    ¡®We start simple. With a hug.¡¯


    I stared at him.


    I mean, technically he was my husband now, but mentally I was still in that awkward co-tenant headspace where our deepest bond was shared Wi-Fi.


    A hug?


    I wasn¡¯t ready.


    My soul wasn¡¯t ready.


    I mean, even Rhys and I rarely hugged, and that was a man I had been seriously in love with.


    I took a step back.


    Ashton took one forward.


    I moved again.


    So did he.


    It went on like some ridiculous mating dance until my back hit the bloody kitchen ind and I had nowhere else to go.


    He tilted his head slightly, bringing his face level with mine.


    His voice was a low purr against my ear. ¡®Would you be willing to give it a try, as a favour to me? Please?¡¯


    The hairs on my neck stood up.


    So did other things I wasn¡¯t going to acknowledge in public.


    Of course I turned bright red.


    Why was this man leaking sex appeal like it was his second job?


    I clenched my jaw. ¡®Yeah. Fine. Let¡¯s do it.¡¯


    Acting. That¡¯s all it was.


    I¡¯d watched enough telly growing up to fake a convincing hug.


    I could channel every ro heroine who ever had to pretend she didn¡¯t want to jump the male lead¡¯s bones.


    Easy.


    Ashton opened his arms, waiting.


    I took a deep breath, muttered something unrepeatable under it, then stepped into his arms.


    And yeah, alright, he felt... expensive.


    His cotton Henley was soft.


    His body was not.


    I wrapped my arms around his waist and instantly hit a wall of solid muscle under all that casual fabric.


    Bloody hell. Man was built like a secret weapon.


    His hands settled on my back, one at my waist, one brushing my shoulder.


    He gave me a light tap, almost a pat. ¡®Rx.¡¯


    Easy for him to say.


    He wasn¡¯t the one trying not to pass out from pheromone overdose.

 Chapter 69 - 70 Trust Issues

    <h4>Chapter 69: Chapter 70 Trust Issues</h4>


    Ashton¡¯s hand moved in slow, careful strokes against my back, and after a couple of minutes that felt like twenty, my spine finally stopped trying to eject itself.


    Weird detail to notice, but I liked how soft his shirt was.


    And how he smelled¡ªclean, expensive, with a faint, woody edge that calmed me down without making a show of it.


    I liked it.


    And I was starting to like the hug, too.


    It was just beginning to feel cosy until Ashton opened his mouth.


    ¡®Still too stiff. If you¡¯re this awkward with me when no one else is around, you¡¯ll never fool the people at the party.¡¯


    Excuse me?


    I thought I¡¯d already rxed enough.


    If I were any more rxed, I¡¯d be in a bloodya.


    What was wrong with the hug? Not intimate enough?


    I tightened my arms around him like I was trying to crack his ribs, then buried my face deeper into his chest.


    And identally breathed right into his pec.


    His shirt warmed up instantly.


    Fantastic. Now my embarrassment had body heat.


    He spoke again, low and close: ¡®You¡¯re standing too straight. Too stiff. And the way your arms are locked around me... it feels like you¡¯re trying to arrest me, not hug me. Maybe we should try sitting down.¡¯


    My mouth twitched.


    Pretty sure that was the first performance review I¡¯d ever gotten on a hug.


    And yeah, it didn¡¯t exactly earn five stars.


    I rolled up my sleeves, channelled my inner overachiever, and marched to the sofa.


    Ashton was already seated.


    I leaned in, flung my arms around his neck. ¡®That good enough for you?¡¯


    He patted my arm. ¡®Feels like there¡¯s still room for the Michelin Man between us.¡¯


    Right. Because apparently bending like a folding chair¡ªarms looped around his neck, torso angled halfway to Narnia¡ªwasn¡¯t the picture of intimacy he had in mind.


    I recoiled and leaned back in again, this time trying to press my chest against him.


    Sort of.


    Unfortunately, my legs wanted no part of the effort.


    So I stood there like a decapitated Barbie, upper body engaged, lower body on strike.


    And my thighs were beginning to scream bloody murder.


    I peeled off him. ¡®Maybe we call it a night?¡¯


    ¡®No. We don¡¯t have a lot of time. And this isn¡¯t going to fool anyone.¡¯


    I stared at him. ¡®It¡¯s your grandfather¡¯s eightieth. It¡¯s not like we¡¯ll be expected to make out in front of the cake.¡¯


    ¡®No, but we¡¯re also not supposed to look like the honeymoon¡¯s long over and we¡¯re alreadywyering up for the divorce.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s what my hug looked like?¡¯


    Ashton nodded. ¡®We could get Geoffrey or the staff in here to give feedback, if you want.¡¯


    ¡®No!¡¯ Absolutely not.


    But the man had a point.


    He¡¯d been nothing but patient with me¡ªhadn¡¯t asked for anything but this: a simple, convincing appearance at his grandfather¡¯s party.


    And I kind of needed him to return the favour with my parents.


    So, yeah. The fake intimacy thing had to look real.


    ¡®Screw it,¡¯ I muttered, then hiked a leg over and straddled him. ¡®How¡¯s this?¡¯


    His mouth curled against my temple, just enough for me to feel it.


    He wrapped an arm around my waist and tugged me closer. ¡®That¡¯ll do.¡¯


    I breathed out.


    If that didn¡¯t satisfy him, I was officially out of ideas.


    ¡®Sometimes intimacy isn¡¯t about physical space or contact,¡¯ he murmured. ¡®It¡¯s about trust. You¡¯ve got to trust mepletely.¡¯


    ¡®Mm.¡¯ I gave him the world¡¯s most nonmittal grunt.


    He was right, of course.


    But knowing something¡¯s right and doing it are two very different things.


    It reminded me of this game we used to y at summer camp, some team-building trust exercise.


    The coach made us line up in pairs.


    First row would fall backwards without looking, and the row behind was supposed to catch them.


    Simple.


    Terrifying.


    I couldn¡¯t do it.


    Not even after ages of mental prep.


    The girl behind me was one of my best friends, and still, I froze.


    What if she blinked and missed?


    What if she secretly hated me and this was the perfect chance to let me crash to the ground?


    What if she wanted to prank me and pretended to let me fall before catching mest minute?


    The more I thought, the more my body locked up.


    And this, sitting here with Ashton, somehow, it brought that whole memory screaming back.


    Except now, I wasn¡¯t even facing away.


    I was straddling him.


    He couldn¡¯t let me fall.


    But some irrational part of me whispered: what if he suddenly stood up?


    What if I hit the floor? Cracked my head on the coffee table?


    I squeezed my eyes shut and told my brain to shut the hell up.


    I knew I had trust issues.


    I knew Ashton wasn¡¯t wrong.


    Still didn¡¯t mean I could magically flip a switch.


    Five minutes passed.


    Or five years.


    I mumbled into his neck, ¡®Can I get up now?¡¯


    ¡®Not yet.¡¯


    So we stayed there.


    He stroked my back gently; he could tell I was still wired tight.


    And the longer I stayed, the stiffer I got, until my legs felt like tree trunks and a crick started forming in my neck.


    Finally, he said, ¡®That¡¯s enough for today. We¡¯ll pick it up tomorrow.¡¯


    ¡®Great!¡¯ Iunched off him like a spring. ¡®I¡¯m going upstairs. Night.¡¯

 Chapter 70 - 71 Kiss Rehearsal

    <h4>Chapter 70: Chapter 71 Kiss Rehearsal</h4>


    The next night, we kicked off the rehearsal over dinner.


    Ashton sent the staff away at my insistence.


    Then, instead of sitting across from me as usual, he slid into the seat beside mine, like we were already at his grandfather¡¯s party ying the happy couple.


    He pointed out where people would be sitting, who I needed to watch, which uncle faked being vegetarian to impress his green-juice-obsessed wife but secretly smashed steaks like a cave troll, and which one nearly blew up a construction site because¡ªget this¡ªhe thought a pile of dynamite looked ¡®fun¡¯.


    Also, there was a cousin who mighte for my throat because Ashton had apparently gotten her arrested for reckless driving.


    It was the most he¡¯d talked to me since this whole thing started.


    And even though his tone was all dry and matter-of-fact, the stuff he said was... weirdly funny.


    I found myself loosening up and even asionally cracking augh.


    The rehearsal continued after dinner.


    By then, I¡¯d epted my fate.


    It was just hugging, right?


    Except this time, Ashton upped the difficulty level¡ªfront hug, side hug, handshakes, air kisses, that dramatic couple¡¯s entrance thing where I was supposed to hook my arm through his and glide in like we hadn¡¯t been awkward strangers a week ago.


    And the weirdest part was, it started feeling... normal.


    Like, dangerously normal.


    Like muscle memory was kicking in.


    So much so that when we sat down to take a break, I kinda... passed out.


    Yeah. Dead serious. I fell asleep.


    On him.


    Like full-on napping, face smushed against his shoulder, legs curled up, drooling-on-his-shirt kind of passed out.


    I med the wine.


    When I finally stirred and blinked at the wall clock, it was past ten.


    Which meant I¡¯d been out for nearly two bloody hours.


    I sat up so fast I nearly gave myself whish.


    My hair was a mess.


    My brain was scrambled eggs.


    And I¡¯d just spent two whole hours unconscious in Ashton¡¯s arms like some love-struck ro extra.


    Kill me now.


    What was worse¡ªhe¡¯d let me.


    He¡¯d just sat there. For two hours.


    Letting me sleep on him.


    Like we were... that kind of couple.


    Nope. Absolutely not.


    I swatted those thoughts away like mosquitoes on a humid night.


    I sat up properly, fingersbing through my tragic bedhead. ¡®Think we¡¯re good for today?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah.¡¯ He leaned back. ¡®We¡¯ll run it again tomorrow. Daily practice until we meet my grandfather, if it¡¯s okay with you.¡¯


    ¡®Cool,¡¯ I mumbled, pretending I wasn¡¯t still mentally screaming into the void.


    The way the Laurents operated, I wouldn¡¯t be shocked if they held family dinners with lie detectors under the cemats.


    Ashton being the (rumoured) bastard son probably made him a walking target.


    No wonder he was so... calcted.


    I stood. ¡®So... dinner and hugs again tomorrow?¡¯


    I was thinking maybe we should rehearse talking points instead.


    Maybe a family cheat sheet, names, ranks, shareholding charts...


    ¡®No. Tomorrow we rehearse the kiss.¡¯


    I froze. Turned slowly.


    ¡®Kiss,¡¯ I echoed, incredulous. ¡®As in, kiss kiss?¡¯


    ¡®Yes,¡¯ he said.


    I blinked. ¡®You mean like... an air kiss?¡¯ Hopefully.


    ¡®Do couples air kiss?¡¯ he countered.


    ¡®They do if they¡¯re in France.¡¯


    He quirked a brow. ¡®Are you sure the French are only air-kissing and not, say... French kissing?¡¯


    My soul t-lined.


    ¡®We¡¯re not actually going to French kiss in front of your grandpa, are we? What if he has a stroke?¡¯


    Ashton smiled. Just a little, which somehow made it worse. ¡®No French. Just a kiss. The sort couples do when they¡¯re dating.¡¯


    Yeah, no big deal.


    Just my mouth.


    On his.


    In front of an ailing patriarch and a family full of snoops.


    Casual.


    ¡®You¡¯re not joking?¡¯ I asked, even though I already knew the answer.


    ¡®I¡¯m not.¡¯


    I opened my mouth.


    Closed it.


    Tried again.


    I probably looked like a dying goldfish onnd.


    ¡®My cousin tried something simr,¡¯ he said. ¡®Hired a girl to y the girlfriend act. It was Christmas Eve, the whole family was there. They fooled no one. His mum cut off his allowance for three years. Till he brought home a real girlfriend.¡¯


    I stared. ¡®Wait¡ªseriously?¡¯


    He gave me the ¡®I¡¯m-a-man-of-facts¡¯ look. ¡®Do I look like I lie for fun?¡¯


    No. He looked like he filedwsuits for fun.


    But that was beside the point.


    My brain whirred like an overheating hard drive.


    If someone saw through us, would Ashton get hit with the same treatment?


    He didn¡¯t exactly strike me as the type to take criticism lying down, let alone roll over for a punishment.


    Still. I¡¯d promised I¡¯d cooperate.


    While I was still standing there like someone had brained me with a frying pan, Ashton got up from the sofa like he hadn¡¯t just casually drop-kicked my sanity.


    He brushed past me on his way upstairs and tossed over his shoulder, ¡®I¡¯ll be home early tomorrow.¡¯


    Then he disappeared around thending.


    I stood there in the middle of the silent living room.


    My legs finally gave a sad little twitch of protest, so I dragged myself upstairs and facented onto the massive bed.


    As soon as I shut my eyes, the word ¡®kiss¡¯ started doing naked cartwheels across my mental sky.


    I must¡¯ve fallen asleep somewhere between shame and denial, because the dream that hit was straight-up X-rated.


    I was t on my back, pinned to a leather sofa I didn¡¯t recognise.


    Someone was kissing the breath out of me¡ªhot, messy, and way too real.


    My skin felt like it¡¯d been cranked up tova and my brain had noped out entirely.


    I tried to push him off, but every time I squirmed, he just followed.


    The room was blurry.


    The world didn¡¯t exist outside of that touch, that mouth, those hands.


    I couldn¡¯t see his face, but everything in me screamed I knew him.


    My body did, anyway¡ªmy heart was too busy having a meltdown.


    Then, just before dawn, the dream finally handed me a name to go with the body.


    Ashton Laurent.


    I jolted awake like I¡¯d been tasered.


    ¡®Nope,¡¯ I muttered, pping my cheeks to manually reboot my system.


    I grabbed my phone¡ª7:30 a.m.


    Countdown to kissing practice had officially begun.


    Nope nope nope.


    I needed a n.


    Preferably one that involved not being within ten metres of Ashton¡¯s mouth.


    Time to make a run for it.

 Chapter 71 - 72 Ashton’s POV: Tactical Retreat

    <h4>Chapter 71: Chapter 72 Ashton¡¯s POV: Tactical Retreat</h4>


    The CEO¡¯s office was silent except for the knock on the door.


    Dominic Everett stepped in, carrying a folder thick enough to strangle someone with. ¡®Mr Laurent, this is everything on Nyx Collective.¡¯


    He ced it on the desk.


    Ashton picked up the folder, flipping through it without a word.


    With each page, his jaw set a little tighter.


    By the time he hit the middle, the muscle under his cheekbone was pulsing.


    So that was what Mirabelle had been dealing with.


    Petty backstabbing.


    Undercut by her own team.


    Screamed at in meetings by people who couldn¡¯t carry her shoes.


    ¡®Fucking hell,¡¯ he muttered.


    He leaned back in his chair, report still in hand, fingers tapping against one name.


    ¡®This Rexford Caldwell¡ªwhy does that sound familiar?¡¯


    ¡®He runs Titan Growth Fund, which invests in Nyx Collective, but he¡¯s not involved in the studio¡¯s day-to-day running. He asked to meet youst week, but your schedule was full.¡¯


    ¡®Right.¡¯ Ashton rubbed his chin. The name clicked now. ¡®Tell him I¡¯ll make time. Set it up.¡¯


    ¡®Yes, sir.¡¯


    Once Dominic left, Ashton reopened the folder, slower this time.


    The report was more thorough than what Cassian had been able to find out from Yvaine.


    ording to thest section, some C-list actress was having custom jewellery made for a film festival in Italy, and that started the whole row.


    He pulled out his phone and made a call.


    ¡®The Venice Film Festival next month. You going?¡¯


    The voice on the other end perked up instantly. ¡®Of course I am. Why?¡¯


    ¡®You wearing jewellery?¡¯


    ¡®Duh. I¡¯m nning to kill it on the red carpet. The dress and the set are both exclusive pre-season drops from¡ªwait for it¡ªAmarante. I¡¯m the first celeb to wear them.¡¯


    ¡®Return the jewellery. You¡¯re wearing mine.¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯ She actually yelled. ¡®Since when do you make jewellery?¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t. My wife does. You¡¯ll wear her design.¡¯


    Silence.


    Long enough that he thought the line had dropped.


    Then: ¡®Ashton Laurent. Are you out of your mind? Or is this some kind of practical joke?¡¯


    ¡®No. Let¡¯s do dinner. I¡¯ll introduce you.¡¯


    He hung up before she could argue.


    ***


    10:03 p.m.


    Still no sign of her.


    Ashton hadn¡¯t moved from the sofa.


    He¡¯d eaten dinner alone¡ªhalf a steak, three bites of sd, and enough scotch to strip varnish.


    She¡¯d texted him at six, chirpy as hell: [Out with Yvaine. Might be backte!]


    Backte, his arse.


    Mirabelle didn¡¯t just ¡®casually¡¯ go for drinks.


    She didn¡¯t do ¡®casual¡¯ anything.


    He knew a tactical retreat when he saw one.


    So he¡¯d sent Cassian.


    The bastard reported back with confirmation.


    ¡®She invited Yvaine. Not the other way around.¡¯


    Right. So it was a retreat. Dressed up as a girls¡¯ night out.


    He¡¯d waited anyway.


    Like an idiot.


    And waited some more.


    Then: ¡®Get Carlisle out of there,¡¯ Ashton barked into the phone. ¡®I want Mirabelle back. Now.¡¯


    Cassian let out augh that sounded more like a choke. ¡®Mate. You two are insane. I¡¯m not your goddamn messenger boy. If she wants to stay out, let her.¡¯


    Click.


    Ashton tossed the phone aside.


    He stared at the time again.


    10:08 p.m.


    So she was dodging the rehearsal?


    Fine.


    But there was another possibility.


    A worse one.


    Had she found out about the lie?


    There was no cousin.


    No tragic tale of the poor bloke dragging his hired girlfriend to a family Christmas dinner.


    That was a story concocted entirely for Mirabelle¡¯s benefit.


    But she had no links to his family.


    No way she could¡¯ve found out.


    This sudden night out was more likely just her way of saying no to the kiss.


    But no, Ashton wasn¡¯t going to let her off the hook that easily, not after the kind of night he¡¯d had.


    He hadn¡¯t slept.


    Not properly.


    Every time he closed his eyes, it was like being sucked back into that sofa.


    Her breath warm against his chest.


    Herugh pressed under his skin.


    Her legs tangled with his like they had every fucking right to be there.


    In his dream, it didn¡¯t stop there.


    First the sofa.


    Then his bed.


    Then the hotel room¡ªthe one he hadn¡¯t told her he¡¯d bought after that night.


    Dream-Mirabelle was straddling him again, like that night.


    That single, scorching night she¡¯d taken the lead and made him forget his own damn name.


    But Dream-Ashton flipped her under him, just as fast.


    She wrapped her arms around his back, gasped his name, pulled him closer like she didn¡¯t want him to leave.


    And in the dream, he didn¡¯t.


    He drove himself into her like he had no brakes, and she clung on like she wanted him to ruin her.


    He woke up pissed off and hard.


    The duvet got kicked to the floor.


    Sweat glued his skin to the sheets.


    Two sses of freezing water did nothing to cool him down.


    He ended up in the kitchen, shirtless, hair a wreck, ring at the marble counter like it owed him an apology.


    Still hard.


    Still furious.


    Still thinking about her.


    If he wasn¡¯t going to get peace, then neither was she.


    Ashton called the bar.


    The Cider & Smoke was closing early tonight¡ªhealth code vition, staff emergency, gas leak; the manager could pick a story.


    Ashton didn¡¯t care.


    He just wanted her out of there.


    Thirty minutester, he heard the crunch of tyres on gravel.


    Geoffrey poked his head into the living room. ¡®Mr Laurent? Mrs Laurent¡¯s back. Talking to the driver. Should be inside any second.¡¯


    ¡®Mm.¡¯ Ashton didn¡¯t nce up.


    His eyes stayed on the tablet.


    One hand flicked the screen like he was reading something important.


    He wasn¡¯t.


    He¡¯d been scrolling the same page for thest twenty minutes.


    But Geoffrey wasn¡¯t stupid.


    He saw the way Ashton sat up straighter.


    The way his fingers smoothed the wrinkle out of his shirt like he hadn¡¯t been sitting there all night, simmering in silence.


    The shift was small.


    But it was there.


    Geoffrey said nothing.


    He just slipped away, because he wasn¡¯t an idiot.

 Chapter 72 - 73 Instructional Video

    <h4>Chapter 72: Chapter 73 Instructional Video</h4>


    I walked in a minuteter, tipsy, still giggling at some dumb meme Yvaine had just sent me.


    Something about a guy trying to deep-throat a corn dog and nearly dying for it¡ªquality content.


    I didn¡¯t think Ashton would still be awake.


    Definitely didn¡¯t think he¡¯d be sitting dead centre in the living room like some kind of final boss, staring straight at the door.


    Our eyes met.


    Shit.


    My grin froze.


    I snapped the phone shut too hard and wobbled sideways, pressing my fingers to my temples.


    ¡®Drank way too much,¡¯ I mumbled. ¡®Gonna crash. Nightttt...¡¯


    I staggered like my knees had melted, clinging to the bannister like it owed me rent.


    Giving him a wide berth, I dragged my feet up the stairs, feeling his stare right up my spine.


    Don¡¯t look back.


    Don¡¯t trip.


    Don¡¯t break character.


    The second I made it to the bedroom, I shut the door behind me like I¡¯d just outrun a serial killer.


    I jumped straight into the shower and let the water st me.


    ¡®Damn it.¡¯ I thudded my forehead against the ceramic tile, while a mental porno featuring Ashton yed on loop.


    Thanks, Yvaine.


    We¡¯d met up earlier and she picked up right where she left off at her birthday, like time hadn¡¯t passed.


    Apparently, my ¡®married life¡¯ was now her favourite drama.


    She grilled me like I was on trial for Crimes Against Horniness, cross-examining me over every single sexless second I¡¯d spent under the same roof as Ashton.


    I told her we hadn¡¯t slept together.


    Well. Not since that one time in the hotel room, pre-fake-marriage, pre-everything.


    So technically, it didn¡¯t count. Right?


    She gave me a look like I¡¯d just told her I enjoyed beige wallpaper and abstinence. ¡®What the hell¡¯s wrong with you? You sleep next to that and don¡¯t tap it? Where¡¯s your libido? Menopause hit early or what?¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t sleep next to him,¡¯ I corrected her. ¡®And my libido¡¯s doing just fine, thanks.¡¯


    She rolled her eyes. ¡®Yeah, clearly. That¡¯s why you¡¯re living with a guy who looks like sin on legs and not riding him like a stolen bike. I¡¯d be on him every morning before coffee and again after dinner, just for the cardio.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not you, Yvaine. And it¡¯s all fake, remember?¡¯


    ¡®Fake marriage doesn¡¯t mean fake orgasms. If you met him under normal circumstances, you¡¯d have nailed him, admit it.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah, I would.¡¯


    And, technically, I had.


    ¡®So what¡¯s stopping you now?¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t want to make things moreplicated.¡¯


    ¡®You overthink everything. Mira, babe, I love you like family, but you¡¯re a damn coward. You move slower than¡ªwhat¡¯s a slow-ass animal?¡¯


    ¡®Tortoise?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah. Slower than a constipated tortoise. Look, life¡¯s short. You admit you like him, right?¡¯


    ¡®¡°Like¡± is a stretch¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Fine, you like his body?¡¯


    ¡®Well, yeah. I mean, I have eyes.¡¯


    ¡®You emotionally tangled up with anyone else?¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯


    ¡®And he¡¯s not either?¡¯


    ¡®I haven¡¯t asked him.¡¯


    ¡®That means no. So what the fuck are you waiting for? Go home, yank his trousers down, and ride him like a champion. And if you¡¯re feeling rusty, I¡¯ve got a few instructional videos¡ª¡¯


    That was when the pub¡¯s PA crackled on with an apologetic ¡®we¡¯re closing early tonight¡¯.


    Now I was out of the shower, in an oversized T-shirt, flopped on the bed like a regret-voured pancake.


    ¡®Damn you, Yvaine,¡¯ I muttered, dragging a pillow over my face. ¡®Could¡¯ve at least airdropped me the vid.¡¯


    Toote.


    My brain had already started shooting its own movie.


    And Ashton was the star.


    I almost screamed when there was a knock at my door.


    ¡®Mrs Laurent,¡¯ Carmen called gently. ¡®You probably need hydration. I¡¯ve brought you some lemon and honey in warm water, and Advil if you¡¯ve got a headache. May Ie in?¡¯


    I blinked away the X-rated image. ¡®Thanks, Carmen. Door¡¯s open.¡¯


    Except when it swung open, it wasn¡¯t Carmen standing there.


    Ashton took the tray from her hands and strolled into my room.


    I stared at him.


    He stared back.


    And then¡ªlike some divine pstick punishment¡ªmy phone slipped and smacked me in the face.


    ¡®Fuck,¡¯ I muttered, rubbing my cheek.


    Great. A ck eye to go with the slow death of my dignity.


    ¡®Um, thank you. Can you just put the tray on the nightstand? I¡¯ll drink it in a bit.¡¯


    No reply.


    I turned, slowly.


    He was still there.


    Still staring.


    Standing two paces from my bed.


    He said nothing.


    I rolled over, and buried my face in the duvet like an ostrich. ¡®Ugh, migraine. So tired. Gonna pass out. Bye.¡¯


    Please leave, please leave, please get the hell out.


    Iy there, holding my breath like I was auditioning to be a corpse.


    I heard the quiet clink of the tray hitting the nightstand.


    But no footsteps walking away.


    Just an awful silence.


    My heart was beating so hard I could hear it in my ears.


    Every second dragged like a horror film jump scare that never dropped.


    Nearly suffocating, I poked my head out and risked a peek.


    The wardrobe mirror caught his reflection.


    His eyes were lowered, his gaze fixed somewhere on my back.


    And I was suddenly very conscious that I was wearing only a T-shirt.


    No bra, no panties.


    And the shirt had ridden up when I¡¯d jumped into bed, and the hem was now somewhere mid-cheek.


    Where his eyes were.


    He wasn¡¯t moving.


    Just watching.


    Just standing there and staring at me like he had nothing better to do than mentally strip me.


    And I couldn¡¯t fix my shirt without admitting that I knew he was looking.


    That I cared.


    So I just yed dead.


    A half-naked, very humiliated corpse.


    Then, after what felt like a decade, he moved.


    I tensed like a cat about to bolt, but all he did was step forward, lean down, and gently pull the nket up over me.


    He tucked it around me like I was five and not actively dying of embarrassment.


    ¡®Good night,¡¯ he murmured.


    Then he was gone.


    I groaned into the pillow.

 Chapter 73 - 74 Lip-lock

    <h4>Chapter 73: Chapter 74 Lip-lock</h4>


    Next morning, I got up before the sun like a guilt-ridden teenager post-sneak-out.


    There was no way Ashton hadn¡¯t clocked the whole performancest night, and I was not about to sit across from him at breakfast pretending I was a normal, functional human.


    So yeah, I tried to dip.


    Sneaked downstairs, shoes in hand, bag swinging by my side.


    But guess what?


    He was already there.


    Sitting on the sofa like the king of the business world.


    Watching the news.


    Calm.


    Shirt rolled at the sleeves like a casual threat.


    I nearly yeeted my handbag at his face.


    ¡®You¡¯re up early,¡¯ I used.


    He looked over, no expression. ¡®Where are you going this early?¡¯


    Busted.


    I bit my lip, the fake kind of innocent that only works on men who want to be lied to. ¡®Yvaine wanted to do breakfast. I¡¯m just gonna... yeah, head out...¡¯


    I crab-walked towards the door.


    Then, right when my fingers grazed the handle¡ª


    ¡®Aren¡¯t you forgetting something?¡¯


    My heart dropped straight into my shoes.


    I froze.


    Turned.


    Marched right back across the room like I hadn¡¯t been tiptoeing a second ago.


    And then I climbed into hisp.


    Straddled him. Arms around his neck.


    No hesitation.


    Okay, maybe a little hesitation.


    But mostly ir.


    Kissing was off-limits.


    But hugging, I could do blindfolded and drunk.


    I leaned in, brushing my face against his neck, whisper-close to his ear.


    ¡®This is as far as I can go. For now. As for the other thing... maybe give me some time? I need time to mentally brace. You¡¯re a man of action, but I¡¯m a girl with nerves. I need a heads-up before we go full lip-lock.¡¯


    I needed time to brush my teeth, drown in breath spray, and chain-eat a hundred mints.


    More importantly, I needed time to give myself a proper warning not to shove my tongue down his throat or do something wildly inappropriate and irreversible.


    Ashton froze.


    Literally stopped breathing.


    Body stiff like someone had swapped his spine for an ironing board.


    He just sat there. Silent.


    Was he mad?


    Or disappointed?


    Or silently scanning our irond hell of a contract, trying to find a use that said ¡®if fake wife misbehaves, fake husband gets to unleash legal hellfire¡¯?


    I decided not the poke the bear further. ¡®Let¡¯s leave it at this for today, yeah?¡¯


    He exhaled. His voice came out low and rough: ¡®We¡¯ll talk tonight.¡¯


    ¡®Cool, cool.¡¯ I bounced off hisp.


    Then I caught him looking at me weird.


    I squinted back at him.


    Was his neck... red?


    Like, sunburn-at-midnight red.


    For a split second I thought maybe I¡¯d given him a love bite without realising, but unless I¡¯d started sucking necks in my sleep, that wasn¡¯t it.


    ¡®Are you¡ª?¡¯ I was about to ask if he was allergic to my lip gloss when Carmen popped her head in.


    ¡®Mr Laurent, Mrs Laurent, breakfast¡¯s ready.¡¯ She gave me a sunny smile. ¡®Mrs Laurent, I made that spicy chorizo scramble you like so much.¡¯


    ¡®Thanks, Carmen.¡¯


    I looked at the dining room longingly.


    Then at the door.


    Then at Ashton.


    His lips curved. ¡®Thought you had a breakfast date with Yvaine?¡¯


    ¡®It could also be a lunch date,¡¯ I amended. ¡®Or afternoon tea. Yvaine¡¯s very flexible.¡¯


    He stood. ¡®Let¡¯s eat.¡¯


    I moonwalked into the dining room.


    Last night I¡¯d been so starved I almost broke into the pantry, but I¡¯d stayed in bed like a good little fake-drunk idiot to avoid blowing my cover.


    Now I was starving.


    I sat down.


    Ashton tore a freshly toasted baguette in half and passed one to me.


    I thered mine with strawberry jam and shoved the jar of pat¨¦ towards him without thinking.


    And then it hit me.


    Not the food.


    The domesticity.


    The fact that this whole stupid, cosy, married-for-show breakfast vibe was starting to feel normal.


    Like I knew exactly how he liked his coffee.


    Like he knew I put jam on everything.


    Like we were just another boring couple doing breakfast, not two liars caught in a high-stakes fake marriage.


    And that freaked me out way more than kissing him ever could.


    ***


    After breakfast, I locked myself in the study to sketch BloomState drafts.


    Geoffrey had cleared out the room just for me, and I¡¯d never been this productive in my life.


    Even at Nyx Collective, with every professional tool and software avable, I didn¡¯t work this fast.


    Sometime in the evening, Ashton texted to say he wouldn¡¯t be home for dinner.


    I let out a breath I didn¡¯t realise I was holding.


    Then he walked through the front door twenty minutester.


    Apparently, ¡®not home for dinner¡¯ didn¡¯t mean ¡®not home at all¡¯.


    Thanks for the rity, CEO of Misleading Messages.


    I was in the kitchen sipping water when the door clicked open.


    My fight-or-flight kicked in.


    I picked flight.


    Slipping past the ind, I tiptoed towards the stairs like a cartoon burr.


    And then I saw him.


    Ashton was draped across the sofa like a GQ centre-spread, legs crossed, shirt slightly undone.


    His eyes were fixed on me.


    I scratched my chin and faked a grin. ¡®Uh... long day? You should turn in early. Beauty sleep and all that.¡¯


    His right hand dangledzily over the armrest.


    Then his index finger lifted, curling at me like I was a pet he was summoning. ¡®Come here.¡¯


    I should¡¯ve said no.


    Should¡¯ve kept walking.


    I didn¡¯t.


    My feet moved.


    One step.


    Two.


    This morning I¡¯d clocked how soft his lips looked.


    Thin, precise, probably very kissable.


    A kiss wouldn¡¯t kill me.


    Hell, I was getting paid.


    Two million sat snug in my bank ount, which was plenty of motivation to treat him like a hot human cheque with abs.


    I picked up the pace and dropped myself onto hisp like I did this every Tuesday.


    Ashton blinked.


    This was clearly not what he expected.


    ¡®I saide here. I didn¡¯t say do anything.¡¯


    I wrapped my arms around his neck.


    ¡®C¡¯mon. We both know what e here¡± means with you. Let¡¯s just get the rehearsal over with. I¡¯ve got sketches to finish.¡¯

 Chapter 74 - 75 Mexican Standoff

    <h4>Chapter 74: Chapter 75 Mexican Standoff</h4>


    Ashton¡¯s jaw clenched so hard I thought he might chip a mr.


    One of his hands twitched, like he was dying to grab me, but ying it cool.


    I stared at him.


    He stared back.


    Neither of us blinked.


    It was a Mexican standoff, except no one had a gun.


    The lights had dimmed¡ªhad they always been that low?


    His stupid smart home probably detected horniness and adjusted the mood lighting.


    I could feel my own heartbeat pounding in my ears, chest pressed to his.


    He wasn¡¯t saying a word.


    Neither was I.


    Both were waiting for the other to make a move first.


    Pride¡¯s a bitch like that.


    Then¡ªfine. I cracked first.


    I shut my eyes, leaned in, lips inches from his, breath ghosting across his skin¡ª


    His phone rang.


    I jerked back.


    Sat up ramrod straight. ¡®Um, your phone.¡¯


    He exhaled like he wanted to strangle someone. ¡®Ignore it.¡¯


    It rang again.


    And again.


    He stabbed the screen to hang up, but whoever it was had octopus fingers.


    The call came back instantly.


    I glimpsed the name¡ªCassian Langford.


    ¡®Might wanna pick up,¡¯ I muttered, sliding off hisp and onto the other end of the sofa. ¡®If he¡¯s calling thiste, it¡¯s probably something important.¡¯


    I crossed my legs, leaned back, and grabbed a throw pillow like it could absorb the residual heat.


    It couldn¡¯t.


    Ashton looked like he wanted to murder someone.


    He stabbed Answer. ¡®This better be life-and-death urgent or I¡¯m blocking you for life.¡¯


    Then his expression shifted from murder-mode to tight-lipped concern in record time.


    ¡®Yeah. Got it. On my way now.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t even wait to hang up before he was shrugging into his coat and heading for the door.


    ¡®Something came up. I¡¯ve got to handle it. Might not be back tonight.¡¯


    ¡®Right. Go. Drive safe.¡¯ I jumped up too fast, smacked my knee on the coffee table, and pretended I didn¡¯t.


    His footsteps were already fading down the hallway.


    I didn¡¯t catch what Cassian said, but judging by Ashton¡¯s face, it wasn¡¯t just a broken printer or someone crying over a spreadsheet.


    Once the tail lights vanished down the driveway, I closed the door and pressed my burning cheek against the cool wood. ¡®Saved by the bell.¡¯


    Cassian¡¯s call hade just in time.


    Kissing Ashton shouldn¡¯t have been a big deal¡ªin theory.


    But in reality, I was suffering from sweaty palms, shaky hands, and a near brush with actually catching feelings.


    If we hadn¡¯t been interrupted right then, Ashton was about to find out I was the world¡¯s worst kisser.


    ***


    The next day, I holed up in the study sketching design mock-ups, trying not to keep checking my phone every five seconds.


    Ashton didn¡¯te homest night.


    I finally caved at lunch and texted him.


    No reply.


    By 5 pm, still nothing.


    Either the world had ended or he was knee-deep in something ugly.


    Probably both.


    Then my screen lit up.


    [Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m fine. Dinner tonight. Want you to meet someone. I¡¯ll pick you up in an hour.]


    I replied: [Cool.]


    Then I legged it to my bedroom.


    When I say I spent twenty minutes in front of the wardrobe debating between ¡®business trophy wife¡¯ and ¡®don¡¯t-fuck-with-me chic¡¯, I mean it.


    There were more clothes in the closet than I could ever figure out what to do with.


    I picked a high-neck column dress¡ªlong, slinky, ssy, and just tight enough to make men pause mid-sentence.


    The kind of dress that said, ¡®Yes, I¡¯ve got a brain, but don¡¯t think for a second I¡¯m not aware of my ass.¡¯


    Hair slicked back in a neat twist, face done up just enough to show I¡¯d made an effort, I checked myself in the mirror and gave a nod.


    Wouldn¡¯t embarrass Ashton.


    Probably.


    At six-thirty on the dot, a ck Maybach rolled up.


    Ashton was in the back seat when the driver opened the door for me.


    I slid in, smoothed my skirt over my thighs, and caught him staring.


    His eyes dipped, sharp and shameless.


    Lingering.


    Assessing.


    I knew that look.


    That was ¡®calcting the probability of ripping this dress off in a private booth¡¯ energy.


    Except, his jaw twitched, and he dragged his gaze back to my face.


    ¡®You look... nice tonight,¡¯ he muttered.


    I turned my head, gave him a smile like I hadn¡¯t noticed him nearlybusting across from me.


    Then tilted just enough so he could catch the glint of the Harry Winstons in my ears.


    ¡®Wore the earrings you gave me,¡¯ I said. ¡®I haven¡¯t thanked you for them. The design¡¯s exquisite.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re wee.¡¯ His voice came out lower this time. ¡®They look perfect on you.¡¯


    I wanted to throw apliment back, but what the hell was I supposed to say?


    That he looked nice?


    Obviously.


    The man wore a suit like it was tailored to his DNA.


    And his face didn¡¯t need jewellery or makeup to sharpen its features¡ªit came pre-sculpted.


    So I went with: ¡®You look tired. Something happen at work?¡¯


    And then immediately regretted it.


    Genius conversationalist, Mira. Really killing it.


    He nodded. ¡®Rebel attacks in the Red Sea. Some of our ships had to be rerouted.¡¯ Then he added, ¡®Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s handled.¡¯


    And that killed the husband-and-wife talk.


    The car pulled up outside one of those discreet, old-money restaurants that pretended to be low-key by charging four hundred dors for a te of air.


    Ashton took my hand and led me upstairs.


    ¡®So, who¡¯re we meeting?¡¯ I asked. ¡®Business partner? A Laurent rtive?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯ll see.¡¯


    Yeah. That didn¡¯t feel ominous at all.


    I took a breath and gave myself the usual pep talk.


    It¡¯s fine.


    Smile, nod, pretend to be the arm candy.


    No one can kill you if you look hot enough.


    Then Ashton opened the door.


    I paused mid-stride.


    Sitting in the booth, legs elegantly crossed, was none other than Octavia Grey.

 Chapter 75 - 76 Throuple

    <h4>Chapter 75: Chapter 76 Throuple</h4>


    She was sitting like she¡¯d been poured into the seat, legs crossed, posture casual, face ridiculous in the kind of way that made me want to throw my skincare routine in the bin.


    I knew that face.


    Everyone did.


    She was the Octavia¡ªfilm awards, designer perfume campaigns, the kind of actress who could cry in a close-up and make the whole cinema sob.


    I¡¯d watched hertest film three times and still hadn¡¯t forgiven her for dying beautifully in the rain.


    In person, she looked even more absurdly wless.


    Like someone had photoshopped her into real life without asking the rest of us for permission.


    I walked in behind Ashton, legs moving on autopilot, and slid into the seat across from her.


    She smiled.


    I smiled.


    It was all very polite and awkward.


    I had no idea what the hell was going on.


    Thest time I¡¯d been anywhere near LGH, Dominic had let slip that Octavia was pursuing Ashton.


    Which apparently included dates.


    Romantic ones.


    So now my options were:


    A) Ashton had gonepletely insane and decided to introduce me to his almost-girlfriend like we were in some weird throuple drama.


    B) He was dumping me. In a restaurant. In front of Octavia Grey.


    Which would be a bold move.


    Or was this some twisted arrangement where I got to meet the real woman in his life¡ªwhile I yed the decorative spouse for legal convenience?


    My shoulders tensed.


    Every trashy soap twist I¡¯d ever half-watched started queuing up in my head like a ylist from hell.


    Then Ashton rested his hand briefly on mine. ¡®This is my wife, Mirabelle Vance. And this is Octavia Grey.¡¯


    Octavia held out her hand. ¡®Lovely to meet you.¡¯


    I took it, still half waiting for someone to shout ¡®cut¡¯. ¡®Hi. I¡¯ve seen your work. You¡¯re even more gorgeous offscreen.¡¯


    ¡®Thank you.¡¯


    Her smile was easy. Friendly.


    Not a single trace ofpetition or possession in her eyes.


    The smile took the edge off.


    Notpletely, but enough that I didn¡¯t feel like I needed to throw my drink in someone¡¯s face.


    Yet.


    She looked exactly like she did in the films¡ªonly now I could see the tiny mole near her left ear and the way hershes curled at the tips without mascara.


    But what threw me was her vibe.


    The press always painted her as some frosty diva who¡¯d send back bottled water for being too wet.


    But the woman in front of me was warm, open, and totallycking in the catty energy I¡¯d braced for.


    And judging by the cosy familiarity but zero chemistry between her and Ashton, I¡¯d definitely overthought the whole he¡¯s-about-to-dump-me-for-an-actress situation.


    Once the food arrived, Ashton cleared his throat.


    ¡®Mirabelle, she¡¯s got a favour to ask,¡¯ he said, nodding toward Octavia.


    ¡®Me?¡¯ I jabbed my thumb at my chest. ¡®You sure you¡¯ve got the right Mira?¡¯


    Ashton gave Octavia a look.


    She leaned in, smiling like we were besties at brunch. ¡®Ash mentioned you¡¯re a jewellery designer?¡¯


    ¡®Yes.¡¯


    ¡®Well, I¡¯m flying out to the Venice International Film Festival in a few days, and I still haven¡¯t locked in my jewellery. The big brands all sent stuff, but it¡¯s the same old shiny crap. I wanted something different. Something custom.¡¯ She paused. ¡®So... Miss Vance, I was wondering if you¡¯d be interested?¡¯


    Ashton coughed.


    Octavia¡¯s eyes flicked to him, then she caught herself and corrected with augh, ¡®Sorry¡ªMrs Laurent, would you be interested?¡¯


    She gave Ashton a sideways nce, like she was checking if she¡¯d passed the test.


    He gave a tiny nod.


    I blinked at her,pletely floored.


    Me? Designing for Octavia Grey?


    She could snap her fingers and have Cartier grovelling at her feet.


    And here she was, asking me to sort her red carpet jewellery?


    And she wasn¡¯t going to any film fest¡ªshe was going to that one.


    The Venice gig.


    The same one where Eliza ck, our current Nyx Collective obsession, was making her big ssh.


    We¡¯d practically turned the office into a shrine for that project.


    But Octavia was a different league.


    The kind of star who was the headline.


    Anything she wore would be dissected, reposted, sold out, memed.


    I opened my mouth.


    Nothing came out.


    ¡®Time¡¯s tight,¡¯ she went on. ¡®Every designer I¡¯ve worked with said no. Too risky, too rushed. But if you¡¯re up for it...?¡¯


    ¡®Yes!¡¯ I blurted, a bit too loudly.


    Octavia¡¯s smile widened. ¡®Fabulous. It¡¯s a mad timeline though, so I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ll be pulling some very ugly hours.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s fine! I¡¯ve got a half-finished design set that might work¡ªI can push to wrap it up, source the materials in parallel, and start production straight away. We¡¯ll make it in time.¡¯


    She nodded like she was impressed. ¡®Perfect. But I¡¯ll need to see the designs first. If I don¡¯t love them, I¡¯d rather hit the carpet in bare ears and a naked neckline. I¡¯m not wearing anything meh.¡¯


    ¡®Got it. I¡¯ll send you the sketches tonight as soon as I get home.¡¯


    ¡®Deal.¡¯


    We spent a few more minutes discussing details, and by the time we exchanged contact info, I was pretty sure I was floating two inches off my chair.


    It felt weirdly like meeting a childhood pop idol¡ªonly this one drank sparkling water and might wear my jewellery on a red carpet streamed to millions.


    At some point, Ashton ducked out to take a call, leaving me alone in the room with her.


    Octavia nced over, sipping her drink. ¡®You kept looking at me. Then at Ashton. Then at me again. Everything alright?¡¯


    I choked on air.


    She raised a brow, clearly enjoying this.


    Okay, fine, I had been looking.


    Trying to figure out if she was secretly eye-banging Ashton under the table.

 Chapter 76 - 77 Sell the Act

    <h4>Chapter 76: Chapter 77 Sell the Act</h4>


    Verdict: she wasn¡¯t.


    I gave her a sheepish smile, cheeks burning like I¡¯d swallowed a radiator.


    I thought I¡¯d been subtle.


    Apparently not.


    Octaviaughed, a silvery sound. ¡®You thought Ash and I were a thing, didn¡¯t you?¡¯


    I groaned. ¡®Yeah... I might¡¯ve read that whole situationpletely wrong. Sorry, that was just me being dumb.¡¯


    She grinned. ¡®Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯re not the first woman to assume that. But trust me¡ªhe¡¯s all yours. Ash and I are rted.¡¯


    ¡®You are?¡¯ I tried to recollect if I¡¯d detected any resemnce in their features, but came up empty; after all, didn¡¯t all beautiful people sort of look alike?


    ¡®I¡¯m a distant cousin on his mum¡¯s side. We weren¡¯t close growing up, only started reconnecting a few years ago.¡¯


    So Dominic Everett had been chatting shit?


    Or maybe I¡¯d messed up the name?


    Was there another actress he¡¯d been gossiping about?


    Before I could untangle that mess, Octavia continued, ¡®It¡¯s obvious he really likes you. I¡¯m happy for him, honestly. Took him long enough to find someone he actually wants to marry.¡¯


    She gave me this look¡ªwarm and kind and a little nostalgic. ¡®Ashton was... difficult as a kid. Bit of a loner. For the longest time, I didn¡¯t think he¡¯d ever settle down.¡¯


    She didn¡¯t borate, and I didn¡¯t press.


    Didn¡¯t seem right to dig into Ashton¡¯s childhood when we were out here lying to half of Skyline City.


    And as for herment about him liking me?


    I had no bloody idea where she was getting that from.


    Still, I pasted on my best bashful smile.


    Octavia studied me.


    Then she leaned in across the table, eyes gleaming.


    ¡®Come here. I¡¯ve got a secret for you.¡¯


    I leaned in without thinking, totally hooked.


    She cupped one hand around her mouth and whispered into my ear, ¡®I¡¯m actually married. Two kids. So you don¡¯t have to worry about me and your husband getting too cosy.¡¯


    My jaw dropped so fast it nearly cracked the floor.


    I just stared at her, blinking like a malfunctioning android.


    Octavia Grey¡ªthe goddess of screen, everyone¡¯s favourite unattainable icon¡ªwasn¡¯t just taken.


    She had kids. Plural.


    She¡¯d never gone around shouting about being single, but no one had ever mentioned a husband, let alone tiny humans she¡¯d birthed.


    The woman had been on every screen and billboard since I was fifteen.


    When the hell did she have time to grow humans?


    She raised one finger to her lips like we were co-conspirators. ¡®You¡¯ve got to keep this between us, okay?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah... of course.¡¯ I nodded like a dazed puppy, then blurted out, ¡®Can I get your autograph?¡¯


    Smooth. Real smooth.


    But Yvaine would¡¯ve killed me if I didn¡¯t ask.


    Octaviaughed. ¡®How many do you want? I¡¯ll sign ¡®em all.¡¯


    ***


    Dinner wrapped, and I climbed into Ashton¡¯s car for the ride back.


    I was still halfway between impressed and scandalised about Octavia¡¯s mum-life reveal.


    The entertainment industry was crawling with secrets, apparently.


    On screen, she was the ice-queen CEO type.


    In person?


    Warm. Funny. Chill.


    Meanwhile, Eliza ck, TV¡¯s favourite cupcake in heels, was about as cuddly as a parking warden in rush hour.


    Somewhere between red lights, I remembered what Octavia had said earlier¡ªthat Ashton liked me.


    I peeked sideways.


    He was sitting to my right, silent, face unreadable as usual, eyes shadowed in the low lighting.


    It almost looked as if he was napping, except his posture was anything but rxed.


    I dismissed Octavia¡¯s words.


    Ashton wasn¡¯t in love.


    At least not with me.


    He had a precious ex stashed somewhere in his chest like a vintage wine no one else was allowed to touch.


    Still... even if he didn¡¯t like me, not really, he¡¯d been good to me.


    That part I couldn¡¯t deny.


    He¡¯d been careful. Attentive. Almost gentle, in his own terrifying way.


    I sneaked another peek.


    My gaze stalled on that jawline.


    He looked intense even when he wasn¡¯t supposed to be.


    The man tackled everything with the sameser-focused, maddeningly sincere attention.


    No wonder he¡¯d climbed to the top of the billionaire food chain at an age when most people were still figuring out how not to drown in student loans.


    Take our fake marriage, for instance.


    He hadn¡¯t just nned it; he¡¯d rehearsed it.


    Scheduled sessions. Run-throughs. Bullet points.


    At the time, I¡¯d thought it was overkill, a kind of neurotic control-freak move.


    But apparently it worked.


    Octavia, an actress trained to lie for a living, hadn¡¯t suspected a thing.


    Speaking of rehearsals...


    There was still one scene we hadn¡¯t nailed.


    I stole another nce at him.


    Despite the polite two inches of distance between us, I could feel the heat radiating off his thighs.


    Something in my lower belly fluttered¡ªhot, reckless, and impossible to ignore.


    I reached over and pressed a button


    The privacy screen between us and the driver slid up.


    Ashton nced at me, eyebrows tugging together.


    I twisted my upper body so I was facing him.


    ¡®Thanks for bringing me to meet Octavia.¡¯


    Then I leaned in.


    One quick kiss. Just a soft press of lips to his cheek.


    A secondter, I was turning back to face front like it hadn¡¯t just happened.


    The car was dark. Quiet.


    But I could feel his stare.


    When I dared look again, his eyes had gone low and dangerous, lit up with something wild and hungry.


    ¡®That¡¯s not the kind of kiss I want,¡¯ he said.


    ¡®W-what kind of¡ª¡¯


    Didn¡¯t finish the sentence.


    Couldn¡¯t.


    Ashton lunged at me.

 Chapter 77 - 78 The Kiss

    <h4>Chapter 77: Chapter 78 The Kiss</h4>


    Ashton¡¯s mouth crushed mine with no preamble, no warning, no hesitation.


    Hot, forceful, and absolutely unrelenting¡ªhe kissed like he owned my lips, my breath, my goddamn soul.


    I gasped, trying to pull back, but he was already in, already taking.


    His tongue pushed past the resistance of my lips like it had every right to be there, and maybe it did, because my body sure as hell wasn¡¯t protesting.


    My hands shot up instinctively, palms ttening against his chest¡ªbut instead of pushing him away, they curled, gripping the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing keeping me tethered.


    ¡®Ashton¡ªwait, just¡ª¡¯ I tried to speak, but all I got out was a breathless jumble against his mouth, broken by the sheer force of him.


    He didn¡¯t wait.


    With a smooth, dizzying motion, he wrapped one arm around my waist and hauled me into hisp.


    The seat creaked beneath us, the whole car shifting slightly with the movement.


    Darkness swallowed us, the only light a faint, flickering neon glow bleeding through the tinted windows, casting him in sharp edges and shadows.


    I felt his thigh under mine¡ªhard, hot, tense¡ªand then I stopped feeling anything else because he kissed me again, deeper this time, like he was staking a im.


    My legs straddled hisp awkwardly, knees pressing into the leather seat on either side of him.


    I was on top, technically.


    But somehow, that didn¡¯t mean shit.


    He was the one in control.


    Every flick of his tongue, every greedy pull of his lips made it clear: I wasn¡¯t running this show.


    The air in the backseat thinned, my lungs burning, my skin prickling like someone had turned the temperature up by ten degrees.


    The windows fogged.


    My head swam.


    Every nerve I had funnelled into where we touched¡ªhis hands spanning my waist, fingers flexing like he was holding back from just tearing my clothes off; the press of his chest against mine, so firm it felt like being pinned beneath a wall.


    And still he didn¡¯t stop.


    I kissed him back because I couldn¡¯t not.


    Because my body had already made the decision for me.


    My lips moved with his, pliant, eager, like they belonged to someone else entirely.


    I felt weightless and drunk, high on him.


    He smelled like clean skin and woodsy cologne, but there was something darker beneath it, something addictive¡ªsalt and sweat and heat.


    Time got weird.


    I forgot how minutes worked.


    I forgot the world outside the car even existed.


    There was just him, just this, just the slick, obscene sound of our mouths shing and the low, hungry noise he made when I shifted slightly in hisp.


    By the time he finally let me breathe, my legs were jelly, my lips were bruised, and my whole body felt boneless.


    I slumped against his chest, panting, one hand still fisted in his shirt like I couldn¡¯t bear to let go.


    Ashton exhaled, slow, controlled, but I felt the tension in his thighs, the not-so-subtle press of something hard beneath me that made my skin flush all over again.


    The driver coughed discreetly. ¡®Mr Laurent, we¡¯ve arrived.¡¯


    I shot off Ashton¡¯sp like I¡¯d touched a live wire.


    He gave a low grunt, adjusted his suit jacket to hide the very obvious evidence of what had just happened¡ªor almost happened¡ªand stepped out of the car.


    Then he reached back in and scooped me up.


    I iled, limbs everywhere. ¡®Put me down¡ªI can walk¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Can you?¡¯


    I tried.


    I failed.


    The moment my heels hit the ground, my knees buckled.


    I wobbled sideways like a baby deer on ice, nearly twisting my ankle into a right-angled tragedy.


    Ashton¡¯s arm shot out, catching me before I could fully embarrass myself.


    Still dizzy¡ªhigh, really¡ªfrom that kiss (or was it kisses? That series of escting, breath-stealing, life-shortening assaults on my self-control), I seriously considered letting him carry me inside.


    But we weren¡¯t alone.


    The driver was still there.


    He was no doubt discreet¡ªhe worked for Ashton, after all¡ªbut I could practically feel the popcorn in his mental hand and the gossipy sparkle in his eyes.


    I patted Ashton¡¯s arm to tell him I was fine and that he should let go.


    The moment he did, I bolted into the house.


    Behind me, I heard a low chuckle.


    I scrambled up the stairs, half-limping, half-flying.


    Just legged it to my room and flung myself face-first into the bed, pulling the nket over my head.


    My lips still tingled, swollen and slick, haunted by the memory of his mouth¡ªdemanding, consuming, like he was trying to suck the soul out of me.


    And God help me, I¡¯d let him.


    Melted into him like butter on a hot skillet.


    Yvaine¡¯s voice rang in my head: ¡®Hot guy. No emotional baggage. Ride him like a stolen bike and get the glow-up your love life needs.¡¯


    Maybe she had a point.


    Maybe I¡¯d been clinging too hard to an outdated model¡ªemotions first, sexter.


    With Rhys, it had been all longing gazes and high-minded ideals, like I was in love with the concept of him more than the man himself.


    But this was different.


    No strings, no expectations.


    Just heat. Hunger. A one-year contract and a man who kissed like he wanted to rewrite my DNA.


    Maybe it was time to reframe this whole fake marriage.


    Call it what it really was: a one-year stand.


    I propped myself up on both elbows and stared towards the door.


    I didn¡¯t know what I was thinking.


    Didn¡¯t know what I was expecting.


    The bedroom door was unlocked.


    Maybe he would...


    My gaze lingered on the handle, half-daring it to move.


    Half-terrified it might.

 Chapter 78 - 79 Ashton’s POV: Interrupted

    <h4>Chapter 78: Chapter 79 Ashton¡¯s POV: Interrupted</h4>


    Ashton watched her bolt into the house, all iling limbs and flushed cheeks.


    He let out a short, lowugh.


    Then he turned to Gino still hovering by the car door. ¡®Next time, don¡¯t drive so bloody fast.¡¯


    The driver nodded. ¡®Yes, boss.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t argue the obvious¡ªthat Ashton was usually the one barking at him to step on it.


    He valued his job, and his kneecaps.


    Ashton walked into the house, loosening his tie as he went.


    The living room was quiet.


    Mirabelle was already upstairs.


    Probably in her bedroom.


    Probably thinking about the kiss.


    He was.


    Ashton took the stairs two at a time.


    Would her door be locked?


    Would she open it if he knocked?


    His mind was already undressing her again¡ªhe hadn¡¯t even taken off her shoes earlier, and the thought was driving him insane.


    He quickened his pace, rounded the corner¡ª


    His phone buzzed.


    Ashton froze mid-step, jaw tightening.


    He yanked the phone out of his pocket, saw the name sh on the screen, then nced back at her door.


    Then down at the raging hard-on in his trousers.


    He let out a muttered curse, turned on his heel, and stalked to the study.


    The door mmed behind him hard enough to rattle the frame.


    Inside, Ashton stood by the window, the overhead light catching the hard angles of his face.


    He held the phone to his ear like he wanted to crush it. ¡®What.¡¯


    ¡®Where have you been? You¡¯ve been dodging my calls all day,¡¯ Reginald snapped. ¡®The Harbourview District mess. What are you nning to do about it? And when are you nning on notifying the board?¡¯


    ¡®Harbourview¡¯s not your concern,¡¯ Ashton said. ¡®Stick to the branch office. You run Laurent City Estates, not LGH.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t forget, I still hold shares in LGH. And Harbourview¡¯s a major deal. I told you and that Langford boy¡ªboth too green, too eager¡ªthat this would blow up in your faces. Now look. I heard the scaffolding copsed in the wind and hit a guard. If even I¡¯ve heard of it, half the city probably has by now. Are you trying to get us sued?¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s jaw flexed.


    He thought of the hospital room.


    Fluorescent lights buzzing.


    The stench of antiseptic.


    The dull beeping of machines doing what a broken body couldn¡¯t.


    Ramon Vega¡ªthirty-four, married, father of two¡ªhad taken the full weight of a twisted scaffold bar across the side of his skull.


    Skull fracture. Internal bleeding. Coma.


    No prognosis yet.


    ¡®It wasn¡¯t the wind,¡¯ Ashton said evenly. ¡®I was on-site within the hour. That frame didn¡¯t buckle from gusts. The welds gave out. Shit materials.¡¯


    Someone had greased the wrong palm.


    He¡¯d known it the second he¡¯d seen the bent beams.


    Steel like aluminium foil. Cracks running through weld seams like veins in dry y.


    No way it was up to code.


    He and Cassian had pulled an all-nighter, elbows-deep in supplier logs, invoices, shipping manifests.


    ¡®Half the structure would¡¯ve crumbled if someone sneezed,¡¯ Ashton said. ¡®I shut it down. Full audit¡¯s underway. We¡¯re reordering materials. There¡¯ll be dys.¡¯


    ¡®Dys? You think the city¡¯ll eat that?¡¯


    ¡®They¡¯ll have to. I¡¯d rather take the hit on the timeline than have another body bag on site. If that¡¯s a problem for the board, they can bring it up at the next vote.¡¯


    Reginald simpered. ¡®You¡¯ve got a lot on your te. If you can¡¯t handle this, maybe I shoulde back and supervise.¡¯


    Ashton pinched the bridge of his nose.


    The hard-on was long gone, and in its ce, a headache was settling in nicely.


    ¡®Sure. I¡¯ll bring you back. You can personally check the stability of every single scaffolding pole. Daily.¡¯


    ¡®What? I was thinking more of a management position.¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯


    Reginald spluttered on the other end. ¡®I¡¯m your father! You think I¡¯ve got the stamina for that kind of grunt work?¡¯


    ¡®You wanted to be involved. I¡¯m making that happen. I¡¯ll have the appointment letter drafted by morning.¡¯


    ¡®No¡ªno, wait, forget it, I¡¯m good where I am...¡¯ Reginald backpedalled fast.


    He might¡¯ve been arrogant, but he wasn¡¯t suicidal.


    One full day on-site and he¡¯d be carried out in a body bag¡ªor at least a neck brace.


    ¡®This is a government project,¡¯ he switched tactics, tone suddenly cautious. ¡®The press already caught a whiff of it. Some trash blogs are reporting it. If this trends, stock will drop. You should¡¯ve killed the story the second it broke.¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s patience snapped clean in half.


    ¡®My priority was keeping the man alive. If he dies, no headline in the world is big enough to bury that. And in case you missed it, I¡¯ve already shut the story down. I¡¯m tracking every post, every feed. I don¡¯t need you ying PR consultant over the phone.¡¯


    He was about to hang up when Reginald whined, ¡®You don¡¯t respect me. Not a bit. Look how you talk to me.¡¯


    Ashton tilted his head, rolling his neck until it cracked. ¡®How I talk to you depends on how you act. You get what you give.¡¯


    Another beat of breathing. Then Reginald sighed.


    ¡®Forget it. Whatever. Anyway, we¡¯ve been asking you toe back for dinner. Not me¡ªyour grandfather. He asked for you himself. You ignoring him now too?¡¯


    ¡®His birthday¡¯sing up. I¡¯ll be there.¡¯


    ¡®At least you¡¯ve got some manners left.¡¯


    Ashton paused, then added tly, ¡®One more thing. Thought I¡¯d give you a heads-up. I¡¯m married. I¡¯ll be bringing her with me. If anyone so much as pulls a face at her, I swear I¡¯ll burn the ce down with all of you still inside.¡¯


    He hung up before Reginald could open his mouth again.


    His eyes shifted to the study door.


    Three doors down was Mirabelle¡¯s room.


    She was in there.


    Showering, maybe.


    Or lying in bed scrolling through videos.


    Or... just sitting there, stewing, wondering why the hell he hadn¡¯te knocking yet.


    He wanted to.


    His body wanted to.


    Every muscle was strung tight like he¡¯d just done a full set of deadlifts with no rest.


    The craving was physical now¡ªcrude, annoying, sharp-edged.


    But¡ª


    He exhaled, like he was trying to bleed the tension out of his lungs.


    Then he rang Cassian.


    There was still work to clear.


    Ramon Vega¡¯s status needed chasing.


    Dominic had better have an update.


    The legal team needed marching orders¡ªstart prepping charges for that rat bastard in procurement who¡¯d pocketed kickbacks and ordered garbage-grade steel.


    If criminal negligence didn¡¯t stick, they¡¯d p him with something else.


    Truth was, he should¡¯ve dealt with it all hours ago.


    But Octavia Grey had given him one window¡ªtonight or not at all.


    So he¡¯d made the dinner happen.


    And after what Mirabelle had pulled in the car¡ªsliding into hisp like she lived there, mouth hot and greedy on his, fingers threading through his hair¡ª


    Yeah. He¡¯d do it again in a heartbeat.

 Chapter 79 - 80 Morning After

    <h4>Chapter 79: Chapter 80 Morning After</h4>


    The next morning, we didn¡¯t talk about almost having car sex.


    Because obviously, pretending nothing happened was the mature thing to do.


    The silence stretched across the table like a bad wifi connection¡ªpatchy, tense, and just begging to crash.


    I was the first to crack. ¡®Can I ask you something?¡¯


    Ashton looked up. ¡®Sure.¡¯


    ¡®I went to LGH that day, and Dominic said you were out on a date with some actress. Octavia Grey, he¡¯d said. But then she told mest night you two are just mates. So, who was the mystery woman you were actually hooking up with?¡¯


    I¡¯d told myself I didn¡¯t care.


    Turns out I was full of shit.


    His silence had been gnawing at me all morning.


    He was the one who¡¯d kissed me like he wanted to memorise the taste of my tongue, and now he was sitting here, sipping his coffee like we hadn¡¯t nearly dry-humped in a Maybach.


    Ashton choked.


    Full-on, coughing-up-a-lung choked.


    He grabbed a serviette and wiped his mouth, coughing out, ¡®I never went on a date with any actress. Dominic was just... talking nonsense.¡¯


    ¡®Right,¡¯ I said, narrowing my eyes.


    Because Dominic Everett, a man who looked like he alphabetised his Spotify ylists, just strikes me as the kind of guy who randomly makes up celebrity hook-ups for fun.


    Sure.


    But if Ashton wanted to lie, that was his problem.


    It wasn¡¯t like our contract had a truth-telling use.


    He reached for his water and muttered, ¡®Clearly I¡¯ve been giving Dominic too little work. He¡¯s got too much time to be creative. I¡¯ll dock his pay.¡¯


    Poor Dominic.


    Somewhere across the city, he was probably sneezing and had no idea why his pay cheque was about to suffer.


    I took it out on my toast.


    Four aggressive bites in and half a slice down, Ashton nced up again.


    ¡®No one¡¯s stealing your food, Mira. You can slow down.¡¯


    I gave him a smile that said ¡®bite me¡¯.


    So I couldn¡¯t ask about his secret shag partner and also couldn¡¯t chew my carbs like a normal person?


    He cleared his throat and, in that clearly-I¡¯m-trying voice, asked, ¡®Did you send the sketches to Octavia? Was she happy with them?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah. Sent the roughsst night. She said she loved them. I¡¯ll tweak a few details today, and we can start sampling tomorrow. Only...¡¯


    I stared down at my empty te.


    Only I didn¡¯t have the bloody equipment.


    No casting machine, no wax injector, noser welder¡ªjust a pretty little sketch that couldn¡¯t magic itself into diamonds and gold.


    If I wanted BloomState to actually exist, I had to go back to Nyx Collective and use their gear.


    Which meant risking a Violet Lin sighting.


    And I was not in the mood for that.


    Ashton must have read my mind. ¡®I¡¯ve got a friend who owns a small jewellery studio. Not as polished as Nyx, but it¡¯ll get the job done.¡¯


    My eyes lit up. ¡®That¡¯ll be perfect. Thanks.¡¯


    It wasn¡¯t just Violet I wanted to avoid.


    It was also Savannah and the risk of her finding out I was designing red carpet jewellery for Octavia Grey.


    If that got back to Nyx, I¡¯d bebelled a traitor faster than you could say ¡®conflict of interest¡¯.


    Savannah wouldn¡¯t care¡ªmy contract said frencer, loud and clear.


    But Violet would twist it into some backstabbing, under-the-table betrayal, and I wasn¡¯t giving her the ammo.


    After breakfast, I headed over to the studio Ashton rmended.


    It was called Moss & me, and it was tucked behind a bakery in a part of the city where parking tickets reproduced like rabbits.


    The owner, a wiry redhead in her fifties named Lorna, greeted me at the door like I was her long-lost niece.


    She showed me around, and insisted¡ªtwice¡ªthat I call her if I needed anything, even if it was just a different gauge of saw de.


    I liked Lorna instantly, except she had this funny look on her face when I mentioned Ashton told me they were good friends.


    The studio was a small ce, but sharp.


    Full toolkit¡ªbenches, loupes, torches, stone-setting tools¡ªand they even cleared out a little office space for me,plete with a cracked leather chair and a coffee machine.


    I stuck around all morning, working.


    Started with CAD to tweak the finer angles on the design, then ran a 3D print of the main pieces in wax.


    The resin came out a little rough, but it was good enough for moulding.


    For the moreplex elements, like thettice settings and that hinged sp Octavia liked, I cast a quick prototype in brass to test the functionality and make sure nothing snapped under pressure.


    Used a micro-motor to clean up the edges, then soldered a sample setting just to see how the curves held under heat.


    Not showroom quality, but it was taking shape.


    I didn¡¯t realise it was way past noon until my stomach growled.


    The studio wasn¡¯t close to Ashton¡¯s house, so heading back for lunch felt like a trek.


    I wandered into a nearby mall and grabbed something spicy¡ªjerk chicken with rice and ntains.


    Just as I sat down, stic fork in hand, I looked up¡ªand nearly choked on a pepper ke.


    Serenna Oakley.


    We hadn¡¯t seen each other since the Laurent party.


    You know, the one where I punched her in the face.


    I locked eyes with my chicken and pretended she didn¡¯t exist.


    Didn¡¯t work.


    Stilettos clicked. Shadow loomed. Poison perfume hit my nose two seconds before her voice did.


    ¡®Bit far from Nyx Collective, isn¡¯t it? What are you doing here?¡¯

 Chapter 80 - 81 Ghost from the Past

    <h4>Chapter 80: Chapter 81 Ghost from the Past</h4>


    I didn¡¯t even nce at her.


    Just kept shovelling spicy chicken over rice into my mouth.


    Serenna dropped herself into the seat opposite mine and dumped her shopping bags onto the floor.


    She huffed. ¡®Not gonna talk? Last time we saw each other, you pped me and ripped out a chunk of my hair. It still hasn¡¯t grown back, by the way. You¡¯ve got some nerve not showing up to apologise. Now you¡¯re nking me like I don¡¯t exist. Ever heard of basic manners?¡¯


    ¡®Manners? You¡¯re the one who sat down without an invitation, is currently spraying spit all over my jerk chicken, and upying a seat an actual paying customer might want. So unless you¡¯re nning to order something, eat it, and shut up, I suggest you find the nearest exit and flounce right back out.¡¯


    Her mouth opened, then closed.


    She choked on her owneback for a second, probably trying to decide if she should scream or sulk.


    Then her face lit up with petty delight.


    ¡®I just figured you might want somepany,¡¯ she said, voice syrupy with fake sympathy. ¡®I heard the Grangers pulled back all their wedding invites. After you chased Rhys around like a loyal golden retriever for years, he¡¯s finally tossed you. Poor Mira.¡¯


    She clicked her tongue. ¡®What now? Aunt Caroline said you¡¯re even cutting ties with your family. So if no man wants you, and your family¡¯s out, what are you gonna do¡ªlive under a bridge?¡¯


    I gave her a cold smile. ¡®Wow. Everything out your mouth starts and ends with men. Can¡¯t survive without a dick in your orbit? I¡¯m actually curious to see what kind of prince charming ends up stuck with you. You had a crush on Rhys, didn¡¯t you? Well, now¡¯s your chance. Just a heads-up, though, Catherine is in the picture now. You¡¯ll have to fight her for him.¡¯


    ¡®I so don¡¯t like him anymore,¡¯ she denied. ¡®He¡¯s a total yer. I¡¯d never go for someone like that.¡¯


    She stared at me, hunting for cracks.


    Probably expected me to be moping, mascara running, wailing about lost love and betrayal.


    But all she got was the top of my head and the sound of my fork scraping the te.


    She snapped her fingers. ¡®Oi, are you deaf? Don¡¯t care about Rhys anymore? Fine. But I bet you¡¯ll care about what I¡¯m about to say.¡¯


    ¡®I bet I won¡¯t.¡¯


    ¡®I mean it¡¯s big. Like, life-altering.¡¯


    I wiped my mouth. ¡®Still don¡¯t care.¡¯


    Her nostrils red. ¡®God, you¡¯re such a cow. Fine, I¡¯ll tell you anyway¡ªIsobel Brooke¡¯s back in town.¡¯


    My hand stalled an inch from my iced coffee.


    My expression didn¡¯t change¡ªmuch¡ªbut the twitch in my brow must¡¯ve betrayed me.


    Serenna saw it.


    Shetched onto that flicker like a parasite finding blood.


    ¡®Ha! I knew it. You¡¯re not so unbothered after all. You should be scared. Remember what happened? Her family shipped her off because of you. Word is, she¡¯s had it rough out there. You think she forgot? You think you¡¯re not at the top of her revenge list?¡¯


    Her grin stretched like she thought she¡¯d won something.


    But the only thing she¡¯d ever win was Most Likely to Be pped at a Wedding.


    I sipped my coffee.


    Bit too much ice, not enough espresso.


    I knew Serenna wasn¡¯t warning me out of the kindness of her cold, botoxed heart.


    She just wanted to see if I¡¯d flinch.


    See if the big, bad Mira Vance still had old ghosts rattling around in her closet.


    And okay. If we¡¯re dragging skeletons out, let¡¯s talk about Isobel bloody Brooke.


    Back in school, if there was one person who could make me sweat, it wasn¡¯t a teacher, or a parent, or even my high-maintenance sister.


    It was her.


    Isobel.


    Queen Bitch of Westbridge Prep.


    Mean girl royalty, with just enough money and power to ruin someone¡¯s life before breakfast and still make it to third period looking fresh as fuck.


    While I kept my head down with textbooks and sketchbooks, she held court from the back row, doing her makeup and filming TikToks for her adoring fans.


    We stayed out of each other¡¯s orbit.


    Until she made me her target.


    All because the guy she liked had a crush on me.


    Not that I ever flirted back.


    But girls like her don¡¯t need a reason, just a target.


    Hell, I didn¡¯t even know the guy¡¯s name.


    Didn¡¯t know the real reason untilter.


    Until I beat it out of her.


    To Isobel, the idea that someone might choose me over her wasn¡¯t just unthinkable¡ªit was sphemy.


    And I had to be punished.


    I ignored the passive-aggressive digs and the giggles behind my back.


    Every school had that, and I had better things to worry about.


    But me not reacting only fuelled her.


    She¡¯d graduated beyond harmless locker room pranks.


    The bathroom lock-ins and the water dumps didn¡¯t get the reaction she wanted, so she went full sociopath¡ªshe spiked my drink at the school dance.


    Someone swapped my soda for vodkaced with something else¡ªand before I knew it, I was stumbling like a half-sedated roon.


    Dizzy. Blurred. Disoriented.


    Led out of the dance hall and straight into a trap.


    Into a building.


    To some scumbag who¡¯d been circling me for months.


    What they didn¡¯t n on was meing back swinging.


    I smashed his nose with a jagged piece of rebar.


    Might have also broken a couple of ribs.


    I escaped, called the cops, filed the report, did everything right.


    And then my parents dropped the case.


    Turns out, the Brooke family had connections.


    They threw hush money at my parents, painted it as a ¡®teenage misunderstanding¡¯.


    The Vances took the payout.


    I wasn¡¯t even consulted.


    Just a signature away from justice, and they folded.


    So I handled it myself.

 Chapter 81 - 82 Pick Up Where We Left Off

    <h4>Chapter 81: Chapter 82 Pick Up Where We Left Off</h4>


    One monthter, I found Isobel walking to her car alone.


    I waited by the boot, yanked a sack over her head, dragged her behind the bleachers, and beat the smug out of her.


    She never saw me.


    No one did.


    Then I did it again.


    And again.


    Every week, like clockwork.


    Every time she showed up to school with a bruise or a limp, I made damn sure I had an airtight alibi.


    Isobel cracked fast.


    Couldn¡¯t hack it without her little entourage pping around her.


    By week five of getting jumped out of nowhere, she quit showing up altogether.


    Her parents yanked her out and shipped her off to a boarding school overseas.


    With her gone, the bullies backed off.


    Guess they figured I might put a bag over their heads next.


    But I didn¡¯te out unscathed either.


    I was sixteen.


    I¡¯d barely kissed a boy, let alone fought off some drunk creep in an abandoned building.


    So yeah, maybe that night carved something jagged into me.


    Maybe that¡¯s why I took up boxing.


    A hand waved in front of my face. ¡®Hello? You heard what I said?¡¯


    I snapped my mind back to the present. ¡®Yeah, I heard. You talk loud enough to be heard five blocks away.¡¯


    ¡®So, you do remember Isobel, right?¡¯ Serenna¡¯s smile sharpened. ¡®You¡¯re not still traumatised, are you?¡¯


    I stood up, forcing her to tilt her chin up to keep eye contact. ¡®If she¡¯s stupid enough to show her face, I¡¯ll make sure to continue where we left off. And you?¡¯ I stared down at her. ¡®Might want to watch your step, sweetheart. I hit a lot harder than I used to.¡¯


    ***


    I¡¯d just returned to Moss & me post-lunch when my phone lit up.


    ¡®Mirabelle, please. You¡¯ve got toe back.¡¯ Savannah sounded like she was two seconds from crying ormitting a crime. ¡®Eliza ck¡¯s ripped the sketches apart ten times now and still hates them. The film festival¡¯s right around the corner. If Nyx Collective doesn¡¯t deliver, we¡¯ll have to pay breach penalties¡ªserious ones.¡¯


    ¡®You do realise Violet won¡¯t let me help her unless I agree to be her assistant, right?¡¯ I said. ¡®And there¡¯s no version of reality where that¡¯s happening.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m the boss,¡¯ Savannah huffed. ¡®What she wants doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯ll double your pay. Juste back and sort this shit out. For me, please.¡¯


    My eyes flicked to thest text from my bank.


    Let¡¯s just say I wasn¡¯t scraping for Uber fare anymore.


    Double pay used to sound like salvation.


    Now? Not so much.


    ¡®Yeah, I¡¯m gonna pass,¡¯ I said.


    Her voice morphed into a high-pitched whine. ¡®You¡¯ve been gone for days. Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re actually thinking of quitting?¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯ Not yet, anyway. ¡®I¡¯ve still got some annual leave to burn. And don¡¯t forget, I¡¯m a frencer. Ie and go as I please.¡¯


    She groaned. ¡®God, you¡¯re such a pain. I should¡¯ve seen thising. But I had to try, didn¡¯t I? Fine. Go enjoy your precious holiday. But we¡¯re clear, right? Holiday. Not resignation. You resign, and I swear I¡¯ll block it like my life depends on it. Don¡¯t make me get on my knees, Mira. I¡¯m too old for that shit.¡¯


    Iughed. ¡®Fine. Holiday it is.¡¯


    We¡¯d circle back to the quitting bitter.


    ¡®Oh, by the way, Vanna, can I take on my own projects while I¡¯m off?¡¯


    There was a pause.


    Then her tone sharpened with suspicion. ¡®Side projects? What kind? With who?¡¯


    I kept it vague. ¡®Nothing specific yet. Just... something I¡¯m considering.¡¯


    ¡®Right, right, of course,¡¯ she said, her voice tilting into panic range. ¡®You can, obviously. I mean, you¡¯re still Nyx Collective, yeah? So anything you do goes out under our name. That was in the contract, remember?¡¯


    ¡®I remember.¡¯


    ¡®Good, because we¡¯ll promote the hell out of it. Your name front and centre¡ªsuperstar designer, all that. Mira,e on, working with you has been a dream. You basically built Nyx. Honestly, I thought Eliza ck would go for your concept. No idea what kind of brain-dead manager she¡¯s got whispering in her ear. But hey, client¡¯s king, right? Just... cut me some ck, okay?¡¯


    I gave a shrug she couldn¡¯t see and said, ¡®Yeah. I¡¯ll keep the Nyx name on it.¡¯


    Savannah let out a breath. A bit too loud. Then, tentatively: ¡®Okay, but... what kind of projects are we talking about?¡¯


    I didn¡¯t answer.


    She pushed on. ¡®I mean, seriously¡ªwhat could yound out there that tops designing custom pieces for a damn A-lister?¡¯


    I stayed quiet. Let her spin.


    ¡®If youe back,¡¯ she said quickly, ¡®and Eliza ck¡¯s wearing Nyx at the Venice Film Festival¡ªthat¡¯s massive. That¡¯s the kind of exposure most designers never touch.¡¯


    Still nothing from me.


    ¡®You and Violet Lin would both get credit,¡¯ she added, a little too fast. ¡®Come on, Mira, this is Venice. The Venice International Film Festival. That kind of spotlight doesn¡¯t just fall into yourp.¡¯


    I rubbed my temple, but she kept going.


    ¡®You¡¯ve got taste. Talent. Hell, range. But you¡¯re still young, babe. Your name needs more traction. Don¡¯t waste the momentum.¡¯


    If she¡¯d said that a few months ago, I might¡¯ve cracked.


    Back then, I¡¯d have sold a kidney for that kind of press.


    But now I had bigger things on my te.


    I leaned back in my chair, letting the silence stretch before I said, ¡®Let it go, Vanna. I¡¯ve got a lot going on right now. But once I¡¯m done, we¡¯ll talk.¡¯


    She didn¡¯t like it.


    I could hear her teeth grinding through the phone, but she didn¡¯t push.


    Smart woman.


    ***


    I got home just before nine.


    Wolfed down dinner, then hit the shower.


    Scrubbed twice, flossed twice, brushed twice.


    Sprayed breath spray for a full minute, then popped a mint for good measure.


    I almost flopped down on the sofa¡ªthen stopped.


    Too obvious.


    Sitting there in full makeup like I was waiting for him?


    Yeah, no.


    I wasn¡¯t that desperate to continue our rehearsal.


    Except... I kind of was.


    So far, all we¡¯d done was some light arm-draping and a couple of those over-the-clothes hugs.


    G-rated at best.


    But after that dinner with Octavia, things had shifted.


    Were we adding a kiss to the repertoire now?


    I grabbed mypact and flipped it open.


    Gave the mirror a breath test.


    Minty. No garlic ghost from dinner.


    Lipstick: matte, smudge-proof.


    Good to go.


    I waited.


    Except Ashton never came home.

 Chapter 82 - 83 Meltdown Mode

    <h4>Chapter 82: Chapter 83 Meltdown Mode</h4>


    The night sucked.


    Cold sheets.


    No sleep.


    Just me and my traitor brain spinning circles.


    In the morning, I saw his shoes by the door.


    That meant he¡¯de back sometime in the dead of night but was now gone again.


    I couldn¡¯t pretend I wasn¡¯t disappointed.


    But work mmed into me, and I buried myself in it.


    I spent the next few days camped out at Moss & me, working ten-hour shifts hunched over gem settings and wax casts.


    Came home too wrecked to care about anything, let alone our ¡®rehearsal¡¯.


    Ashton was apparently busy too.


    No sign of him for days.


    Not even a shadow in the hallway.


    Our whole flirt-to-convince-the-family thing?


    Dead in the water.


    Which¡ªfine by me.


    Sort of.


    Ashton was hot, yeah, but cuddling with someone that good-looking without actual benefits was borderline torture.


    Then, finally, something worth celebrating: I wrapped up the custom set for Octavia Grey.


    Handmade, hand-set, one-of-a-kind, absolute knockout.


    And too precious to be entrusted to couriers.


    I took them straight to her agent¡¯s office myself.


    Octavia was all smiles and gasps, cooing over the ne like it was a newborn.


    She grabbed both my hands, shaking them like she was trying to absorb my talent through touch.


    ¡®This is so much better than the overpriced crap those luxury brands churn out. Honestly, I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on in their design departments. Half the time it looks like they let a blind pigeon do the sketches. But this? This is art. I¡¯m wearing this to the festival, no question. I¡¯ll be the hottest bitch on the red carpet. Doesn¡¯t matter if it¡¯s Cannes or Clevnd¡ªnobody¡¯s topping this.¡¯


    I beamed at her.


    She beamed at the jewellery.


    ¡®But seriously,¡¯ she went on, frowning, ¡®why are you wasting your talent at some no-name studio? I¡¯ve never heard of Nyx Collective before. It¡¯s small, isn¡¯t it? With your skills, you should be running your ownbel.¡¯


    That stung.


    Mostly because she was right.


    A couple of dayster, my annual leave was officially up.


    I had no choice but to haul my arse back to work.


    Quitting still wasn¡¯t on the table.


    Not yet.


    Partly because Savannah had been the only one mad enough to sign a fresh-out-of-uni nobody.


    I owed her for that.


    And partly because I wasn¡¯t nning on crawling into another design studio ever again.


    I was done making magic for someone else¡¯s name.


    My next step was my own studio.


    My rules, my name on the door, my signature¡ªand only my signature¡ªon the designs.


    Only problem was, I didn¡¯t have the clout or the capital.


    Yet.


    Nyx Collective was in meltdown mode when I stepped back into it.


    People were speed-walking like it was an Olympic event, someone inms was crying into their smoothie, and even Savannah¡¯s usuallyposed assistant had mascara smudged halfway to her ear.


    Tasha spotted me and lit up.


    ¡®Mira!¡¯ she chirped, waving enthusiastically.


    The front desk girl was in her early twenties, blue braids today, holographic nails, wore cat ears unironically.


    ¡®Didn¡¯t think you¡¯d actuallye back,¡¯ she said, grinning as she leaned over the counter. ¡®We were taking bets.¡¯


    ¡®Wow, rude,¡¯ I deadpanned. ¡®What were the odds?¡¯


    ¡®Sixty-forty you¡¯d rage-quit. I had faith, though. You owe me a coffee.¡¯


    ¡®I owe you nothing.¡¯ I gestured to the hive of activity. ¡®What¡¯s going on here?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah, total war zone today. Violet¡¯s been tweaking Eliza ck¡¯s designs like a maniac. Eighteen revisions. Eighteen. Can you believe it? I thought Savannah was going to start foaming at the mouth.¡¯


    I blinked. ¡®Eighteen? Jesus. What¡¯s she doing, engraving runes on it?¡¯


    ¡®Wouldn¡¯t be shocked. They finally signed off on the final version like¡ªtwo hours ago? So now everyone¡¯s basically speed-running production like it¡¯s a boss level. Eliza¡¯s flight is at 2 p.m.¡¯


    I looked at my watch.


    It was already 10 a.m.


    People were shouting over each other, elbow-deep in foam padding, checking every sp and stone under brutal lighting.


    Someone barked about airport couriers, another yelled for a lint roller.


    Violet Lin was busy stuffing boxes into bigger boxes.


    She didn¡¯t see me at first, so I just hung back, observing.


    I wasn¡¯t close, but I caught a glimpse when she cracked the lid open.


    Just a sh.


    But it was enough.


    My eyes locked on the set inside.


    Gorgeous.


    shy, but tasteful¡ªjust the sort of thing that made you tilt your head and go...


    Hang on.


    Something about it tugged at me, like I¡¯d seen it before.


    I squinted, but I was too far away to get a good look.


    Probably just my imagination, right?


    Violet suddenly caught me staring, and it was like I¡¯d just triggered a fire rm in her brain.


    She mmed the box shut, spun around to face me. ¡®What the hell are you looking at? You trying to steal my inspiration for your own designs? Is that it? nning on copying me, huh?¡¯


    ¡®Do you seriously think I¡¯d waste my time copying your designs?¡¯ I snorted. ¡®What is this, 2005? Get real.¡¯


    ¡®You¡ª!¡¯ She red at me like she was ready to throw hands.


    Then she shouted at the nearest person, ¡®Get this to the airport, now. Don¡¯t even think about missing Eliza ck¡¯s flight. If you do, you¡¯ll be the one paying for the breach of contract, got it?¡¯


    The poor guy was shaking, barely managing to hold the damn box without dropping it.


    I think he thought Violet was about to explode if he didn¡¯t move fast enough.


    Violet spun back to me, now all smug like she¡¯d just won the war. ¡®I¡¯ve got the final pieces done, the flight¡¯s still got hours to go, no need to panic.¡¯


    ¡®Congrats,¡¯ I said drily.


    ¡®I hear Vanna called you, told you toe back and help me, but you couldn¡¯t be bothered, huh? You were just waiting for me to screw up so you could have a goodugh, right?¡¯


    I raised an eyebrow and looked at her like she¡¯d lost her mind. ¡®Babe, do you have any idea how paranoid you sound right now? Have you seen a doctor about this, or should I take you myself?¡¯


    Her eyes narrowed. ¡®Then why¡¯d you pick today of all days toe back? You wanted to watch me crash and burn, admit it.¡¯

 Chapter 83 - 84 Final Rehearsal

    <h4>Chapter 83: Chapter 84 Final Rehearsal</h4>


    ¡®I admit nothing. When I choose toe back has absolutely zilch to do with you. Same goes for whether you hit Eliza ck¡¯s deadline¡ªnone of it¡¯s my problem. So stop projecting.¡¯


    Violet let out a derisive hum, clearly not buying a word I said.


    ¡®Fine,¡¯ she said, looking all pleased with herself. ¡®Even if you agreed toe back, it¡¯s toote. I¡¯ve already set things up with Eliza. She¡¯s gonna blow up at the film festival in a few days, and once she posts about me on social media, I¡¯ll be a star designer. You won¡¯t even be able to carry my bags, let alone keep up with me.¡¯


    I walked back to my desk, letting her ramble on while I ignored her.


    Violet had no clue.


    She was about to find out the hard way that with all her rush andst-minute changes to the designs, there was no way she was going to hit the mark.


    I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if poor Eliza ck ended up looking like a fool at the film festival.


    ***


    After that little verbal cage match, Violet actually chilled out.


    She was too busy fantasising about her big break as a ¡®world-famous jewellery designer¡¯ to bother picking fights with me.


    A few days went by without her dragging me into another yground-level shouting match, and that suited me just fine.


    Not that I had time for her nonsense anyway¡ªI had bigger things on my te.


    The main event I¡¯d been ¡®rehearsing¡¯ for was finally looming.


    The night before Edouard Laurent¡¯s 80th birthday, Ashton called me into the living room after dinner.


    ¡®We¡¯ve both been busy,¡¯ he said, sitting ramrod straight, looking all businesslike. ¡®We¡¯ve cked off on our practice. Tomorrow¡¯s the party, so we¡¯re doing a quick run-through tonight.¡¯


    ¡®Okay,¡¯ I said, no hesitation.


    We¡¯d barely seen each other in the past few days, what with me being up to my eyeballs in jewellery work for Octavia Grey.


    It had been kind of a relief, but now... I was nervous.


    Tomorrow, I¡¯d be in front of the whole Laurent family with him.


    I couldn¡¯t afford to mess up, not with everything on the line.


    I stepped forward and¡ªwithout even thinking¡ªlowered myself onto hisp.


    The movement was so smooth, I surprised myself.


    My thighs locked around his like muscle memory, and the jolt that shot up my spine was instant.


    No way to pretend I didn¡¯t feel it.


    Ashton¡¯s hands found my waist like mas, his palms hot through the fabric, fingers resting just shy of too familiar.


    God, I¡¯d been trying hard not to think about him since that kiss in the car, but it was impossible now.


    The angle of our bodies, the tension humming between us¡ªit was the backseat all over again, minus the leather upholstery and the eavesdropping driver.


    His eyes pinned me down.


    Blue.


    I¡¯d always known that.


    But now they looked like Kashmir sapphires¡ªdeep, vivid, seductive.


    A stone that could mesmerise you into reaching out... then slice you open if you weren¡¯t careful.


    Suddenly, I wasn¡¯t so sure another ¡®rehearsal¡¯ was a smart idea.


    I felt like I was toeing the edge of something dangerous.


    One wrong breath and I¡¯d tumble¡ªstraight into territory I couldn¡¯t joke my way out of.


    ¡®See? Not bad, right?¡¯ I forced a grin, coward¡¯s instinct kicking in. ¡®Still got the muscle memory. Tomorrow, no one¡¯ll suspect a thing.¡¯


    I tried to ease off hisp.


    ¡®I don¡¯t think we need another rehearsal. I¡¯m kind of knackered. Let¡¯s skip practice tonight. I promise I won¡¯t embarrass you tomorrow.¡¯


    I¡¯d handled enough ck-tie dinners and cutthroat designps to hold my own.


    Rich snobs, brutal judges, backhandedpliments¡ªI¡¯d seen the lot.


    And yeah, not to be vain or anything, but I¡¯ve got a face that doesn¡¯t hurt either.


    I was just about to push myself off him when his hand slid around the back of my neck, fingers pressing lightly, holding me in ce.


    ¡®I¡¯m a firm believer in being prepared,¡¯ he said.


    Before I coulde up with something clever, his grip tightened, and I pitched forward, right into him¡ªchest to chest, thigh to thigh, heat ring where our skin met.


    Then his mouth was on mine, soft but unyielding, and the contact obliterated every half-formed thought in my brain.


    ¡®Mmm...¡¯ I tried to speak, but his kiss swallowed the words.


    It was like the world stopped.


    The only thing I could feel, taste, was him.


    His tongue slid against mine, slow at first, before it deepened, tasting every inch of me like he was starving.


    His lips were warm, firm, and everything around us faded into the background.


    There was just the heat, the friction of our bodies pressed together.


    I was sinking into him, my fingers digging into his shirt, pulling him closer, like I wanted to absorb his body into mine.


    The deepening kiss made my head spin faster, and then¡ªsuddenly¡ªhe moved, and I was on my back, with him above me.


    The soft give of the sofa beneath me was the only thing keeping me grounded.


    His chest pressed against mine, tight enough that I couldn¡¯t breathe easily, but it was exactly what I wanted.


    The weight of him felt safe, like nothing could touch me as long as he was there.


    And, damn it, when his lips left mine, my whole body felt like it had melted into the sofa, like I¡¯d been soaked in warm honey.


    I was breathless, dizzy, and wanted very much to yank him back to me.


    Ashton¡¯s eyes were locked on mine, dark with something I couldn¡¯t quite name.


    His gaze dropped from my lips, lingering on the curve of my neck, and I saw him tense, his jaw clenched.


    I didn¡¯t need to be a genius to know he was struggling to keep hisposure.


    The man was trying way too hard not to lose it.


    His hand brushed the bare skin of my lower back as I shifted slightly, and holy hell, if his fingers didn¡¯t send a shockwave through me.


    No fabric, just his skin on mine, and suddenly all I could think about was how much I wanted more.


    His breath hitched, and for a moment, I thought he might cave, might take it all the way.

 Chapter 84 - 85 Paused on the Brink

    <h4>Chapter 84: Chapter 85 Paused on the Brink</h4>


    He crossed his legs¡ªtight, like that was the only thing stopping him from yanking me closer.


    I could feel his control slipping.


    His fingers clenched the sofa cushion like he needed an anchor.


    Damn, he was fighting hard.


    I could see it all over him.


    Then, suddenly, he snapped.


    Not in a wild, throw-me-down way.


    No, he mmed his palm into his other hand, like he was physically trying to shake himself out of whatever trance I¡¯d pulled him into.


    He pushed up to stand, but my arms stayed locked around his neck, not ready to let go.


    He swore under his breath.


    Then he kissed me again, fast, hard, breathless.


    ¡®Don¡¯t look at me like that,¡¯ he muttered against my lips. ¡®Or I¡¯ll...¡¯


    His words barely registered in my mind.


    I was already drunk on the taste of him, high on the heat, melting into him.


    Then he lifted me, carried me towards the stairs.


    One moment, I was in hisp, and the next, I was on my back, t against the sheets in my room.


    Then he...


    Left.


    The door clicked shut behind him.


    Soft, but sharp enough to slice through the haze I was in.


    He was gone.


    Iy there, boneless.


    Like someone had unplugged every wire in my body and reced it with static.


    My skin still tingled.


    My pulse was still racing.


    And I couldn¡¯t tell which was stronger¡ªrelief or disappointment.


    Part of me was weirdly d he¡¯d stopped.


    If he hadn¡¯t, I might¡¯ve just stripped him naked and begged him to ruin me.


    But the other part¡ªthe one powered by hormones and sheer, shameless lust¡ªwas screaming.


    Who the hell walks away when a woman¡¯s practically throwing herself at him?


    Was I not sexy enough? Hot enough?


    Was he just that noble?


    What the hell was stopping him?


    I was clearly all in.


    And judging by my flushed cheeks and throbbing everything, my body hadn¡¯t exactly been subtle about it.


    But he¡¯d walked away.


    Was he hung up on someone?


    Saving himself for some sainted ex he still lit a candle for?


    Like Rhys had done with Catherine while pretending to date me?


    Please.


    What were the odds I¡¯d fall for the only two men in all of Skyline City who knew how to keep it zipped when temptation was literally on theirp?


    I sat up, pulled my shirt forward, nced down.


    ¡®No way. Still hot,¡¯ I told my boobs.


    So why the hell was Ashton acting like a monk in a meat market?


    ***


    The next day, it was the big one¡ªEdouard Laurent¡¯s 80th birthday bash.


    I had no intention of showing up looking like I was trying too hard.


    So I grabbed a simple white dress, understated, clean, no bells or whistles.


    I let my long, dark hair fall freely, nothing too fussy.


    Not a single piece of jewellery, not even a stud.


    When I came downstairs, Ashton was in the living room, waiting.


    His eyes locked on me the entire way down.


    Not a casual nce.


    This was the kind of look that peeled backyers, that imagined every detail beneath the dress.


    The fire in his gaze, the way his jaw flexed¡ªit wasn¡¯t subtle.


    He wasn¡¯t picturing a polite family dinner.


    He was picturing something far more dangerous.


    I saw it in the twitch of his fingers, the rigid set of his shoulders.


    The heat that shot through me was instant.


    Part of me wanted to gloat¡ªsee what you walked away fromst night?


    I almost did a little twirl just to twist the knife... but the stairs were steep, and I wasn¡¯t about to somersault into the wall.


    Another part of me itched to demand answers¡ªif you¡¯re so good at mentally undressing me, why didn¡¯t you just follow through? What the hell¡¯s stopping you?


    But this wasn¡¯t the moment for that kind of question.


    When I reached the bottom, I looked up at him with a teasing smile.


    ¡®Well? What do you think?¡¯


    He didn¡¯t answer right away.


    His eyes stayed on me, devouring.


    Finally, after what felt like five years, he said, low and hoarse, ¡®Beautiful.¡¯


    I reached for his hand, and he took it without hesitation, pulling me towards the door.


    When we reached the car, he held on a second longer, then finally let go.


    ***


    The parking lot at the Laurent estate was packed.


    Old cars, new cars¡ªall gleaming, all expensive.


    Tonight was a milestone that clearly warranted pulling out everyst stop.


    As I stepped out of the car, I took in the scene.


    The ce was buzzing.


    Family, friends, distant cousins dragged out of hiding¡ªeveryone who could make it was here.


    Ashton¡¯s family tree was less tree, more tangle.


    Edouard Laurent had a few brothers and sisters, and each one had their own army of children and grandchildren.


    Ashton¡¯s father, Reginald, was Edouard¡¯s youngest son.


    Reginald had three sons, Ashton being the eldest.


    Throw in a bunch of distant rtives, and you have a party that could rival any school reunion.


    Ashton¡¯s arm slipped around my waist, and we walked towards the house in sync.


    Any nerves I¡¯d had were long gone.


    I clocked the man at the door¡ªprobably a butler¡ªdo a double take.


    He blinked, like his brain needed a moment topute.


    Even the staff couldn¡¯t help sneaking nces.


    Ashton had timed our entrance perfectly.


    The living room was already crowded¡ªclusters of peopleughing, catching up, or locked in that awkward family small talk you only ever hear at holidays.


    But the second we stepped through the door, silence.


    Like someone had hit mute.


    Every head turned.


    Even the ones pretending not to notice got elbowed by whoever stood next to them.

 Chapter 85 - 86 Meet the Parents

    <h4>Chapter 85: Chapter 86 Meet the Parents</h4>


    I could feel every single set of eyes on us.


    Ashton was... well, Ashton.


    He looked like a walking piece of art.


    But not just beautiful.


    Dangerous-beautiful.


    Like one of those hyperrealistic 3D paintings of a cliff.


    Stare too long and you start to feel the drop.


    Me? I wasn¡¯t bad either.


    Maybe a little less angelic than him, but definitely more than presentable.


    But I could tell it wasn¡¯t the looks that had frozen the room.


    It was the way I was linking arms with him¡ªeasy, intimate,pletely unselfconscious.


    Thanks to our multiple rehearsals (which, fine, had paid off), we didn¡¯t look like a party fling.


    We looked like the real thing.


    I could practically see the thought bubbles forming above every head:


    ¡®Isn¡¯t that Mirabelle Vance?¡¯


    ¡®Wasn¡¯t she engaged to Rhys Granger?¡¯


    ¡®Didn¡¯t she cause a scene at thest Laurent event?¡¯


    ¡®How is she not cklisted?¡¯


    But the main headline was clear:


    ¡®What the hell is she doing with Ashton Laurent?¡¯


    The whispers started immediately.


    We reached the centre of the room.


    Ashton gave the crowd a slow once-over.


    Then came the look.


    The kind of look that said: ¡®What are you staring at? Mind your own business.¡¯


    It was as if he¡¯d flicked a switch.


    The air snapped back to life.


    Whispers cut off.


    Then, after a second of stunned silence, the conversations resumed, but the topics had shifted.


    Everyone went back to pretending they weren¡¯t dying to know what was going on.


    Eyes still flicked our way, though.


    Then, from the edge of the room, a man stumbled over.


    Mid-tote forties.


    Handsome, if you squinted and ignored the wine bloat and under-eye bags.


    His expression was all confusion and shock.


    His mouth opened like it had forgotten how to form words.


    ¡®You¡ªyou said you were bringing your wife. This is her?¡¯


    Ashton didn¡¯t miss a beat. ¡®That¡¯s right.¡¯


    The man looked like someone had just unplugged his brain.


    Everyone here knew I¡¯d been engaged to Rhys Granger.


    The Grangers had only just wed back their wedding invite, and now¡ªbam¡ªI was here, allegedly married to Ashton Laurent, like it was no big deal.


    I recognised the man, but to be sure, I turned and whispered, ¡®Your father?¡¯


    Ashton nodded. ¡®Reginald Laurent.¡¯


    Reginald¡¯s hand went to his chest like he was physically restraining a heart attack.


    His face was turning an rming shade of crimson. ¡®Ashton, how could you¡ªhow could you marry¡ª¡¯


    I beamed at him and stuck out my hand. ¡®Mr Laurent, it¡¯s so lovely to meet you!¡¯


    He froze.


    Even his eyes stopped blinking.


    Was he about to faint?


    ¡®Mr Laurent,¡¯ I said again,yering on my sweetest fake-innocent smile. ¡®I brought gifts for everyone. I¡¯ll have the driver bring them in shortly.¡¯


    His face turned an even deeper shade of maroon.


    For a second, I honestly thought he mightbust.


    His Adam¡¯s apple bobbed¡ªup, down, up again¡ªlike he was trying to swallow a dozen questions at once, all of them jammed up in his throat like rush-hour traffic.


    Ashton frowned. ¡®Mirabelle put a lot of thought into those gifts. The least you could do is say thank you.¡¯


    Saying thank you to me was clearly thest thing on Reginald¡¯s mind.


    His face had gone from red to a deeply worrying purple. ¡®I¡ªI didn¡¯t know...¡¯


    ¡®You didn¡¯t prepare any gifts?¡¯ Ashton cut in, voice sharp. ¡®Even after I told you I was bringing my wife here today?¡¯


    He let that word hang for effect.


    ¡®Cash will do. At least then I won¡¯t have to worry about you handing Mira something useless. There are five of you in your family, so two million each should be a good start.¡¯


    Reginald¡¯s eyes bulged.


    I was half worried he was about to burst a blood vessel.


    ¡®Five? And what do you mean ¡°your family¡±?¡¯ Reginald¡¯s voice cracked like an old floorboard. ¡®It¡¯s six, including you. Aren¡¯t you my son? Aren¡¯t you supposed to be one of us?¡¯


    ¡®Now you¡¯re calling me your son?¡¯ Ashton arched an eyebrow. ¡®Well then, since your son just got married, shouldn¡¯t you be giving a wedding gift? And since you skipped the engagement one, let¡¯s make up for lost time. Four million each should do it.¡¯


    Reginald was trembling.


    Rage or shock¡ªI couldn¡¯t quite tell.


    But I did know this: he wouldn¡¯t make a scene.


    Not here.


    Ashton had briefed me beforehand.


    He¡¯d already shuffled the more useless Laurent cronies off the main board at LGH, parking them in dusty little side offices.


    Reginald was currentlynguishing at Laurent City Estates, a subsidiary where he could do the least possible damage.


    And, if need be, he could be shuffled farther away, like Burkina Faso.


    Ashton held all the strings now, and Reginald knew it.


    While he stood there fumbling between outrage and submission, a woman and a younger man approached.


    The woman was immacte.


    Expensive dress, impable hair, and a smile so sugary it almost matched my fake one.


    She stepped forward like she¡¯d been waiting for her moment all night.


    ¡®Ashton¡¯s right,¡¯ she said smoothly. ¡®As the inws, we should be the ones giving a proper gift to the new bride. Two million¡¯s a bit modest, though. Lucien¡ªAshton¡¯s cousin¡ªjust got engaged, and his parents gave the couple five million each. I¡¯m sure Ashton¡¯s wife is worth a lot more.¡¯


    Ashton didn¡¯t even look at her.


    Didn¡¯t say a word.


    Just let the silence stretch, cool and cutting.


    From the way she clung to Reginald¡¯s arm, I knew exactly who she was.


    Gwendolyn Laurent. Reginald¡¯s wife.


    Her words were perfectly polite, and she even sounded like she was sticking up for me, but I¡¯d met enough snakes in high heels to recognise the type.


    The kind of woman who¡¯d backstab you with one hand and give your shoulder a reassuring pat with the other.


    No wonder Ashton hadn¡¯t said much about her during our briefing.


    All I knew was that she was the one who¡¯d convinced Reginald to ship a barely-teenaged Ashton off to an overseas boarding school¡ªalone, underprepared, and still too young to shave¡ªwhile her own two sons were kept safe and coddled in Skyline City.


    She reminded me of my mother, Caroline.


    Different tactics, same poison.


    And that smile¡ªGod, that smile.


    It made me want to punch her square in the face.


    I leaned towards Ashton as I beamed at Gwendolyn.


    ¡®Aww, that¡¯s so sweet of you. You¡¯re really giving me five million? I don¡¯t even know what to say.¡¯

 Chapter 86 - 87 Insults and Ingratiation

    <h4>Chapter 86: Chapter 87 Insults and Ingratiation</h4>


    Ashton might¡¯ve chuckled.


    He cleared his throat. ¡®Mira, I think she said more than five million.¡¯


    I widened my eyes and let out a delighted little gasp. ¡®Ohhh, that¡¯s so generous of you!¡¯


    Gwendolyn nearly bit her tongue.


    But she couldn¡¯t back out now¡ªnot without losing face.


    ¡®Oh, it¡¯s nothing,¡¯ she said, smile faltering.


    She jabbed Reginald in the ribs, who was still stuck in buffering mode. ¡®Reggie will handle it today, won¡¯t you, Reggie?¡¯


    ¡®W-what?¡¯ Reginald blinked. ¡®Handle what?¡¯


    ¡®The transfer, the... gift,¡¯ she hissed, before turning to me with a buttery smile. ¡®It¡¯s Mirabelle, right?¡¯


    ¡®Right.¡¯ I shook her hand and resisted the urge to scrub mine with a disinfectant wipe.


    ¡®Did you and Ashton just get married yesterday?¡¯


    ¡®No,¡¯ I said, on guard.


    ¡®No? Oh, I only asked because no one informed us about the wedding. I thought... well, never mind.¡¯ She smiled indulgently. ¡®Not a word to the parents¡ªso typical of the younger generation, isn¡¯t it? All impulse, no tradition.¡¯


    She gave Ashton a fond, mildly scolding look, like she actually thought of him as her own. Then back to me. ¡®If it weren¡¯t for Grandpa Edouard¡¯s birthday, we¡¯d have never known you two tied the knot. Such a shame, don¡¯t you think?¡¯


    I nearly rolled my eyes.


    Of course, she wouldn¡¯t dare aim the thinly veiled dig at Ashton.


    So the barbs came my way.


    Did I look like a wide-eyed ing¨¦nue?


    Maybe I didn¡¯t care for all this veiled insult nonsense, but that didn¡¯t mean I didn¡¯t know how to volley back.


    Before I could say a word, Ashton cut in. ¡®You¡¯re not my mother. And my wife doesn¡¯t owe you a visit.¡¯


    Gwendolyn¡¯s left cheek twitched, the smiling mask slipping a little.


    Ashton didn¡¯t lower his voice.


    Didn¡¯t care that the room was full of people pretending not to eavesdrop, even as their ears were twitching like antennae.


    ¡®Ashton...¡¯ Gwendolyn¡¯s voice wobbled. A trembling hand pressed to her chest like she¡¯d been stabbed. ¡®All these years, I¡¯ve treated you like my own son. I never once minded your... your situation, being born out of wedlock. How can you say that to me?¡¯


    She was already dabbing at her eyes.


    I shot Ashton a nce, bracing for his reaction.


    She hadn¡¯t used the word exactly, but it hung there, unspoken¡ªillegitimate.


    I¡¯d heard the whispers.


    The moment Ashton returned to Skyline City, the gossip spread like wildfire.


    There were different versions, some nastier than others.


    I didn¡¯t know which one was true, and I wasn¡¯t close enough to him to ask.


    Ashton¡¯s face was granite.


    If he was rattled, he didn¡¯t show it.


    ¡®Out of wedlock?¡¯ he said coldly. ¡®You know damn well who was the one cheating while still married.¡¯


    He shot Reginald a withering look, who seemed to have just realised he¡¯d been bled of five million times two.


    The colour drained from his face as the maths caught up with him.


    Then Ashton turned to Gwendolyn.


    ¡®If you want to make a scene in front of everyone, I¡¯m more than happy to settle things right here.¡¯


    That was when the young man who¡¯d been standing off to the side like a mildly interested bystander finally stepped in.


    ¡®Ash, don¡¯t say that about Mum,¡¯ he said, not quite confrontational, more cating. ¡®She didn¡¯t mean anything by it, alright? She just meant you two haven¡¯te to visit. Chill out.¡¯


    That had to be Den, Gwendolyn¡¯s youngest and most coddled.


    He had the kind of wless skin, bright teeth and peachyplexion that only came from never having worked a day in his life.


    Spoilt? Almost certainly.


    Useless? Probably.


    But at least he had enough guts to defend his mother, I¡¯d give him that.


    I knew he didn¡¯t hold a position at any LGH subsidiary, which made sense the moment Ashton said:


    ¡®Your stipend next month¡ª¡¯


    He didn¡¯t even need to finish.


    Den folded instantly.


    He grabbed Ashton¡¯s hand, then thought better of it and let go when Ashton didn¡¯t return the gesture.


    He gave a sheepish grin. ¡®Come on, Ash, big bro, don¡¯t do that to me. You¡¯ve already cut my stipend twice in two months. Any more and I¡¯ll be living under a bridge.¡¯


    Ashton said nothing, just tapped his finger against his arm, waiting.


    Den blinked, then lit up like he¡¯d finally decoded the unspokenmand.


    He turned to me with a face-splitting grin.


    ¡®Mirabelle, right? I¡¯ve heard so much about you. Congrats on the wedding. May your future be filled with sunshine, rainbows, and ridiculous amounts of happiness. You and Ashton are perfect together. Anyone can see that.¡¯


    I shook the hand he offered. ¡®Thank you.¡¯


    It was hard to dislike him, even knowing who his mother was.


    Speaking of...


    Den added, ¡®Don¡¯t mind Mum. Half the time she doesn¡¯t know what she¡¯s talking about.¡¯


    ¡®Den!¡¯ Gwendolyn snapped.


    He waved her off like a fly. ¡®Anyway, you shoulde round more. I can show you around. Or¡ª¡¯ He caught Ashton¡¯s look and backpedalled fast. ¡®Or Ash can show you. You¡¯ve got to see the indoor pool. I redid the whole thing. It¡¯s basically a spa now. You¡¯d love it.¡¯


    Then he looked at Ashton like a golden retriever waiting for praise.


    Ashton¡¯s tone softened just a notch. ¡®Your stipend¡¯s as usual.¡¯


    Den straightened. ¡®Thanks, bro!¡¯


    I watched the easy rapport between them, fascinated.


    I really liked that, despite Gwendolyn, Ashton didn¡¯t hold it against Den.


    He even seemed to indulge him.


    I didn¡¯t learn the truth until muchter: when Ashton had been shipped off overseas with barely enough stipend to cover food and shelter, it was Den who¡¯d quietly siphoned off money from his own generous allowance and sent it to him.


    Proof that, asionally, the apple does fall far from the tree.


    Den turned to Gwendolyn. ¡®Mum, seriously, it¡¯s a happy day. Don¡¯t say anything that¡¯ll ruin it. Just zip it and smile for the cameras.¡¯


    Gwendolyn blinked, stunned. ¡®What did I even say?¡¯


    She might¡¯ve brushed off anything from Ashton with that frostyposure of hers, buting from her own son, that cut deeper.


    ¡®Just don¡¯t say anything stupid,¡¯ Den said offhandedly.


    Gwendolyn¡¯s face turned an rming shade¡ªred, then purplish¡ªlike she was this close to throttling him on the spot.

 Chapter 87 - 88 Genial Host, Hostile Guest

    <h4>Chapter 87: Chapter 88 Genial Host, Hostile Guest</h4>


    Ashton gave Den an approving nod, then turned to Gwendolyn. ¡®I told you I¡¯d bring my wife today. Anyone gives her trouble, they¡¯re taking me on.¡¯


    His voice was low, but it carried.


    Loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.


    The words weren¡¯t just meant for Gwendolyn.


    They were a warning shot to the entire Laurent n.


    Anyone who¡¯d been whispering behind my back a second ago suddenly remembered how to shut up.


    A few awkward beats passed before the party resumed its rhythm, the chatter awkward at first, then slowly picking up pace again.


    Ashton took my hand and led me to the enormous sofa in the centre of the room.


    I braced myself for the res, the barbed questions, the sudden onset of passive-aggression.


    But instead, everyone smiled.


    Some even tried to make it look convincing, though it was obvious they were clenching their mrs behind those well-practised grins.


    I¡¯d thought Ashton¡¯s (allegedly) illegitimate status would¡¯ve put him in a precarious spot with the family, but apparently not.


    They were treating him like royalty.


    No one dared raise their voice, not even Reginald.


    Which made me think¡ªif people did suspect our marriage was a sham, would anyone actually have the guts to say it out loud?


    Probably not.


    So why, exactly, was Ashton still going overboard with all those rehearsals?


    It wasn¡¯t like we needed to sell the act that hard, but he¡¯d been treating this like some kind of military drill.


    Then there was the whole thing about his grandfather, Edouard Laurent.


    ording to Ashton, the old man was on his deathbed at a nursing home and just wanted to see him get married before he went.


    Hence the fake marriage.


    Hence the real marriage certificate.


    But when I finally saw Edouard, sure, he looked old and a bit frail¡ªhe needed a cane¡ªbut he didn¡¯t seem like he was about to kick the bucket.


    His attitude towards mended somewhere between Reginald and Den¡ªnot overly warm, but not icy either.


    Polite. Neutral. Watchful.


    Which tracked.


    He wasn¡¯t like his son, Reginald, who wore every thought on his sleeve like a bad name tag.


    Edouard hadn¡¯t built an empire by being the type to blurt out anything without weighing it first.


    He thanked me for my gift, evenplimented my dress¡ªvery grandfatherly, very smooth.


    If I didn¡¯t know any better, I¡¯d have thought he actually liked me.


    Then the party got properly underway.


    There were speeches, gift-giving, cake-cutting, photo-taking¡ªthe whole shebang.


    Not long after, Ashton was called into the study by his grandfather.


    I was left alone on the sofa, quietly matching names to faces and observing the dynamics of a multi-branch family tree.


    I felt it almost immediately¡ªthat creeping sensation of being watched.


    Not just the polite kind, either.


    This was surgical, skin-peeling scrutiny.


    I tried to ignore it, but one particr stareing from my right was doing a fantastic job of making my shoulders lock up.


    I turned my head and locked eyes with a woman in the corner.


    She wasn¡¯t blinking.


    Fuck.


    Isobel Brooke.


    The jolt that went through me was embarrassingly visible¡ªI actually flinched.


    Her gaze hadn¡¯t changed since high school.


    Still that cold, reptilian deadness, like she¡¯d skin me just to see how I was wired.


    I shivered.


    It wasn¡¯t fear.


    It was that reflexive revulsion, like when you feel something wet and squishy in your shoe and realise you¡¯ve just crushed a slug.


    When Serenna Oakley mentioned that Isobel wasing back to town, I¡¯d thought, ¡®Skyline¡¯s huge. What are the odds we¡¯d ever bump into each other again?¡¯


    Yet here we were, not even a few dayster, and I was staring straight at her.


    I leaned slightly towards the girl next to me¡ªdark hair, barely out of college, tapping away on her phone like she was in her bedroom instead of a party.


    Ashton had introduced her earlier, but my brain had already dumped her name.


    ¡®Who¡¯s that?¡¯ I asked, keeping my voice casual as I nodded subtly towards Isobel.


    She looked up, then followed my line of sight. ¡®Oh. That¡¯s Isobel... something. She¡¯s with Quentin, Ashton¡¯s second uncle¡¯s kid. Pretty sure they¡¯re getting engaged soon. That¡¯s probably why she¡¯s here. Y¡¯know, tagging along as future family.¡¯


    I looked again.


    The way Isobel¡¯s eyes had been slicing through me told me everything I needed to know.


    Serenna had been right: Isobel still hated my guts.


    I exhaled slowly, the walls starting to press in around me like the air had thickened.


    Too many people had swarmed me already¡ªchit-chatting, fake-smiling, all trying to suss out one thing: how close was I to Ashton?


    And if the answer was ¡®very¡¯, could I pull his strings?


    Could I be their inside track, their pretty little pawn?


    It felt less like a party and more like aworking event, one where ny per cent of the guests shared the same surname.


    It was still too early to slip out without raising eyebrows, so I stood, smoothed my dress, and gave an excuse of needing the loo.


    I ducked right, away from the clinking of Barat crystal and the nauseating hum of polite small talk, out through a French window into actual air.


    The grass under my heels was damp but wee.


    A gaggle of kids were shrieking with joy nearby, running in uncoordinated circles, high on cake and freedom.


    Theirughter floated on the breeze like bubbles about to pop.


    I passed the pool¡ªglowing turquoise under the garden lights¡ªwhen someone yelled my full name.


    ¡®Mirabelle Vance!¡¯


    I stopped dead.


    That voice.


    I hadn¡¯t heard it in years, but it still scraped across my nerves like nails on a chalkboard.


    I turned slowly, and there she was, strutting across thewn.


    ¡®Haven¡¯t seen you in a long while,¡¯ Isobel said.


    She stopped right in front of me, chin tilted, eyes scanning my face.


    ¡®Not long enough,¡¯ I muttered.


    ¡®Surprised to see me?¡¯ she asked.


    I smiled. ¡®Surprised you¡¯re still in one piece. Given that bratty attitude and unfiltered mouth of yours, I figured by now your body would have washed up on a beach in some sketchy port city. Headless.¡¯

 Chapter 88 - 89 Old Enemy, New Threat

    <h4>Chapter 88: Chapter 89 Old Enemy, New Threat</h4>


    I tilted my head, smirking at her. ¡®So, how¡¯s life abroad been treating you? Since you¡¯re back in town, I¡¯m guessing your family¡¯s decided to un-disown you?¡¯


    Isobel¡¯s grin wavered, freezing for a heartbeat before she caught herself. ¡®Fine. Not that it¡¯s any of your business. FYI, my family treats me like the queen I am.¡¯


    ¡®Oh, really? Like a queen? That¡¯s why they shipped you off with a single suitcase and no return ticket?¡¯


    She stomped her heel, but the tip bounced off the concrete by the pool, making her wince.


    Then she stepped closer, invading my space. ¡®What are you even doing here?¡¯


    ¡®I could ask you the same thing.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m a friend of the Laurents. Engaged to one, actually.¡¯


    ¡®Oh? I¡¯m married to one.¡¯


    Surely everyone with at least one functioning ear must have heard about me and Ashton by now.


    Isobel was just being her usual petty, self-important self.


    Her eyes shed.


    She stepped in again, and I jabbed a finger towards her chest.


    ¡®Don¡¯t get any closer. That knockoff Chanel stench is triggering my gag reflex.¡¯


    She red but remained where she was.


    ¡®I didn¡¯t think you had it in you to snag Ashton Laurent.¡¯ The sneer might be fake, but the jealousy in her voice could not be disguised. ¡®Damn, girl. Gotta hand it to you. Heard Rhys Granger dumped your ass, but now I¡¯m thinking it was the other way round. Bet you ditched him for an upgrade.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t answer.


    No point dignifying that with a response.


    ¡®I always knew you aimed high,¡¯ she went on. ¡®You never dated in high school. Everyone thought you were just a stuck-up nerd. But I knew better. You weren¡¯t wasting that pretty face and perky rack on boys who still lived off their mum¡¯s credit cards. And look where it¡¯s got you¡ªmarried to the golden goose. Must¡¯ve taken a hell of a lot of effort to get Ashton into bed, huh?¡¯


    My patience cracked. ¡®What the hell do you want, Isobel?¡¯


    ¡®Nothing major,¡¯ she said, tone turning ice-cold. ¡®I just want you to keep your mouth shut.¡¯


    ¡®About what? About how you ruled the school with your little mean-girl dictatorship? How you got your arse handed to you for weeks after the winter dance and dropped out like a coward?¡¯


    Her eyes shot wide. ¡®So you¡¯re admitting it! You were the one who jumped me!¡¯


    I shrugged. ¡®I admit nothing. Just recapping what everyone at school knew.¡¯


    ¡®It had to be you!¡¯ she hissed. ¡®Only you had¡ª¡¯


    ¡®What? A motive? Don¡¯t tter yourself. You made enemies like it was a full-time job. If I lined up everyone who wanted a swing at you, I¡¯d need to rent out a whole city block just to manage the queue.¡¯


    Isobel floundered, mouth half open, eyes zing.


    She¡¯d never admit it, but the years abroad must have changed her.


    Something had knocked the edges off, sanded down the queen-bitch arrogance.


    When she spoke again, her voice was noticeably softer.


    ¡®Anyway, I didn¡¯te here to reminisce,¡¯ she said, trying for a more reasonable tone. ¡®Quentin and I are getting engaged soon. I¡¯m hoping the past can stay in the past, and I¡¯d appreciate it if you didn¡¯t mention... anything to him about me.¡¯


    ¡®I just might,¡¯ I said, purely out of spite, though I¡¯d neverid eyes on Quentin before.


    Colour rose in her cheeks.


    Isobel gripped her handbag. ¡®Don¡¯t. Please.¡¯


    ¡®What¡¯s in it for me?¡¯ I asked, just for the hell of it.


    Her eyes widened. ¡®Are you ckmailing me? You want money?¡¯ She was part incredulous, part scornful. ¡®You¡¯re married to the richest man in the city¡ªhell, maybe in the country. Why would you need my money?¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t want your money. I want you to go to the police and admit it was you who hired that thug, you who spiked my drink.¡¯


    ¡®No,¡¯ she refused tly.


    ¡®Then no deal.¡¯ I turned to walk away.


    ¡®Wait!¡¯ She scrambled forward a step. ¡®Come on, for old time¡¯s sake!¡¯


    I looked back over my shoulder. ¡®We don¡¯t have old times. And if we did, I should probably kick your arse for them. But lucky for you, I¡¯ve mellowed with age.¡¯


    ¡®Come on!¡¯ she whined. ¡®I¡¯m not asking you to do anything. I¡¯m literally asking you to NOT do anything.¡¯


    When I didn¡¯t respond, she dropped the sugar-coated act.


    ¡®I won¡¯t say anything if you don¡¯t.¡¯


    I raised an eyebrow. ¡®What have you even got to say?¡¯


    ¡®Plenty.¡¯


    ¡®Like what?¡¯


    ¡®Like how you used to moon over Rhys like some tragic little fangirl. I saw you doodling his name in your sketchpad. Don¡¯t even bother denying it.¡¯ She crossed her arms, her cleavage pushed up and on full disy. ¡®You wouldn¡¯t want your current husband to know you were obsessed with another man, would you?¡¯


    I snorted. ¡®Please. Everyone within a hundred-mile radius knew about me and Rhys. Ashton included. If that¡¯s your big ace, you¡¯re wee to tell him. See what happens.¡¯


    The smugness slipped from her face.


    She could tell I wasn¡¯t bluffing, and panic flickered in her eyes.


    ¡®You know,¡¯ I said casually, twisting the de just a little, ¡®I wasn¡¯t even going to say anything. But the more you beg, the more tempting it bes. And if you really are marrying Quentin... well, that would make us inws of some miserable sort. Imagine having to see you at Christmas dinners. Ugh, no thanks. I¡¯d better go warn Quentin.¡¯


    ¡®You wouldn¡¯t.¡¯ Her voice dropped an octave, threatening now.


    ¡®Wouldn¡¯t I?¡¯ I stepped towards her. ¡®I don¡¯t know what kind of man Quentin is, but I doubt any Laurent would want to marry a schoolyard bully. A mean girl turned social climber. People don¡¯t change, Isobel. Leopards don¡¯t sprout stripes. What if you have kids and raise a bunch of little bullies just like Mummy? I¡¯d be doing Quentin a favour.¡¯


    ¡®Mirabelle Vance!¡¯ she snapped. ¡®Don¡¯t think that just because you¡¯ve got Ashton Laurent wrapped around your little finger, I can¡¯t hurt you anymore.¡¯

 Chapter 89 - 90 Drowning

    <h4>Chapter 89: Chapter 90 Drowning</h4>


    I stepped into her space. ¡®Oh really? What, you¡¯re going to threaten me now? Come on, Isobel. It¡¯s 2025, not the Wild West. What¡¯s the n¡ªwhack me? You think your precious family¡¯s still going to clean up your mess? Still going to bail you out after everything you¡¯ve done?¡¯


    Her face flushed deep red, her breath jagged like she was seconds from bursting a blood vessel.


    ¡®Don¡¯t talk to me like that!¡¯ she hissed, her raised voice drawing attention.


    She nced around, suddenly self-conscious, and dropped her tone. ¡®Fine. How much would it take?¡¯


    ¡®I told you, I don¡¯t want money. I want you to go to the police and confess. Own up to what you did.¡¯


    ¡®Not gonna happen.¡¯


    ¡®Then we¡¯re done.¡¯


    I turned and walked off.


    It wasn¡¯t like I could conjure up a sack, throw it over her head, and pick up where we left off back in high school with a proper beatdown.


    Short of that, I was done.


    She scrambled after me. ¡®Wait!¡¯


    Her hand mped onto my arm.


    Stronger grip than I expected.


    I backhanded her in the ribs, hard enough to make her wheeze and let go with a winded ¡®oof¡¯.


    ¡®Ow! You hurt me!¡¯ she snarled.


    ¡®I¡¯ll hurt you worse if you keep following me.¡¯


    I turned away.


    A pair of kids ran past, squealing, intable swim rings bouncing around their waists.


    I stepped aside to avoid them, my back momentarily to Isobel.


    She must¡¯ve thought that was her moment.


    Even without looking, I felt it¡ªthe air shift, the sharp ck of her heels against the concrete, the sickly waft of her perfume.


    I sidestepped and pivoted.


    She lunged straight past me¡ªarms iling, legs sliding¡ªand crashed towards the swimming pool.


    Except I¡¯d misjudged.


    Didn¡¯t shift far enough.


    As she flew past, her iling hand caught the back of my knee and yanked.


    ¡®Shit!¡¯


    I couldn¡¯t stop it.


    I pitched forward helplessly, headed straight for the pool.


    The water hit me like a wall.


    Cold, sharp, punishing.


    It pped against my skin and swallowed me whole.


    I sank immediately, the chill biting into my bones.


    All sound blurred into muffled silence.


    A thrash¡ªIsobel¡¯s arm, maybe trying to swim¡ªcaught me across the stomach, knocking the breath from my lungs.


    Her leg clipped me again, and I was pushed further away, the current scattering us like broken pieces.


    I should¡¯ve been fine.


    The pool wasn¡¯t deep.


    Kids swam here.


    But the world tilted.


    My vision dimmed at the edges, narrowing like a tunnel.


    Panic surged¡ªsudden, irrational, all-consuming.


    The kind of fear that didn¡¯t care about logic.


    My limbs turned to stone.


    I couldn¡¯t move, couldn¡¯t rise.


    My arms iled weakly, but they weren¡¯t swimming¡ªthey were sinking.


    The cold wasn¡¯t just water anymore.


    The memory hit me like a brick to the chest.


    Years ago. High school.


    Sixteen and stupid, still trusting people I shouldn¡¯t.


    Isobel had lured me to an abandoned building with some thug from off-campus¡ªsomeone twice my size, reeking of cigarettes and something worse.


    I¡¯d wanted to leave.


    I tried.


    But my head was spinning from the spiked drink someone had handed me earlier.


    The bastard reached for me, slurring something, and I knew if I didn¡¯t get out, something irreversible would happen.


    There¡¯d been a rusted piece of rebar on the floor.


    I found it by ident, fingers grazing cold metal.


    When he lunged, I swung.


    Itnded with a sickening thud, and he went down hard.


    The back window was loose.


    I forced it open.


    There was a river below.


    I didn¡¯t even hesitate. I jumped.


    But I couldn¡¯t swim.


    Not then. Not while I was drunk, disoriented, terrified out of my mind.


    The water closed over me, cold and endless.


    I kicked, thrashed, screamed¡ªbut it all stayed trapped inside.


    The sky vanished.


    All that existed was the current, swallowing me, choking me.


    The taste of dirty water in my mouth.


    The weight of my clothes dragging me down.


    The realisation that no one wasing.


    No one knew.


    I was utterly alone.


    And that old terror¡ªthe one I¡¯d buried so deep¡ªmmed into me now like it had never left.


    The pool wasn¡¯t a pool anymore.


    It was that river again.


    And I wasn¡¯t Mirabelle Vance, the woman who survived.


    I was that sixteen-year-old girl again¡ªbetrayed, alone, drowning with no one to save her.


    My limbs forgot how to move.


    My body forgot how to fight.


    Panic mped down like a vice, locking every muscle, scrambling every thought.


    I didn¡¯t know which way was up.


    My vision blurred.


    My chest burned.


    My lungs convulsed, desperate for air.


    My mouth opened, and water rushed in, cold and vicious.


    The edges of my mind flickered, like a dying lightbulb.


    Then¡ªsomething.


    A figure, slicing through the water.


    I couldn¡¯t tell if it was real or just my brain giving me something beautiful to die to.


    A hallucination. A ghost.


    But it wasing straight for me. Fast, purposeful, unstoppable.


    My mouth opened again, but this time not for air.


    Maybe for help. Maybe for a name.


    Nothing came out.


    Then¡ªarms. Solid. Real.


    One wrapped tight around my waist, anchoring me.


    That was when I knew it wasn¡¯t a dream, wasn¡¯t a trick of the light or some fading fantasy.


    And the moment that truth registered, my body gave out.


    Everything went ck.

 Chapter 90 - 91 Ashton’s POV: Not Fast Enough

    <h4>Chapter 90: Chapter 91 Ashton¡¯s POV: Not Fast Enough</h4>


    Ashton had never sprinted that fast in his life.


    Still, by the time he dragged Mirabelle out of the water, her lips were blue, her body limp in his arms.


    He was too fucking slow.


    He knew it the moment her head lolled back and she didn¡¯t open her eyes.


    Heid her down on the poolside tiles, soaking wet and ice-cold.


    Tilted her head, checked her airway, locked his hands over her sternum and pumped.


    Fast. Hard.


    A sick, ugly rhythm that scared the hell out of him.


    Then mouth-to-mouth¡ªhis breath into hers, again and again, his heart hammering so loud it drowned out everything else.


    Come on, Mirabelle.


    Finally, she jerked.


    Coughed.


    Water poured from her mouth and sttered against his chest.


    Her eyes stayed shut, but her breathing started.


    Shallow, ragged, each gasp like it hurt.


    Ashton scooped her up, holding her tight against him, and tore back into the house.


    The party noise hit him like a pughing, music, chatter.


    He didn¡¯t slow down.


    Took the stairs three at a time, ignoring the stunned faces and dropped sses.


    Every head turned.


    Every mouth hung open.


    But no one stopped him.


    Maids scrambled behind him, arms loaded with towels and nkets.


    Ashton kicked open his bedroom door.


    Heid her down carefully on the bed, the thick duvet pulled around her, tucking her in tight.


    She looked so small, trembling like a leaf.


    Her dress was soaked through, stered to her skin.


    The silk shawl was a soggy tangle knotted at her elbow.


    Ashton wrapped his arms around her, nket and all, pulling her into his chest.


    ¡®More nkets!¡¯ he barked. ¡®Get the shower on. Full heat.¡¯


    Mirabelle¡¯s eyelids fluttered like she was caught in a nightmare.


    Her breaths came in short bursts, her mouth half-open.


    He touched her face.


    Ice.


    His own hands weren¡¯t exactly warm either.


    ¡®Mirabelle,¡¯ he said quietly, leaning close. ¡®Mirabelle, can you hear me?¡¯


    Nothing.


    Not even a twitch.


    ¡®Mr Laurent, the bath¡¯s ready!¡¯ a maid called from the doorway.


    Ashton lifted Mirabelle again, cradling her like a baby, and strode into the en suite.


    Steam billowed from the tub.


    He stepped straight in, shoes and all, then knelt and lowered her into the water, still fully clothed.


    The second her skin hit the water, she lost it.


    ¡®No! No!¡¯ she thrashed like she was being electrocuted, nails digging into his forearm.


    ¡®Shh. Shh, Mirabelle, it¡¯s me. It¡¯s not the pool. You¡¯re safe.¡¯


    She fought harder, slippery and fast, elbow smashing into his chest so hard he staggered.


    The breath punched out of him.


    Jesus. He hadn¡¯t realised she could hit like that.


    ¡®Mirabelle,¡¯ he said, dragging her into hisp, one arm locking around her ribs as he pulled her back from the water.


    She clung to him like she¡¯d drown if she let go.


    His gut tightened.


    He¡¯d seen people in shock, but this was something else.


    He cupped her cheeks. ¡®Talk to me, Mirabelle. What¡¯s going on?¡¯


    Her eyes flicked wildly, not quite focusing.


    She looked like she was stuck in something he couldn¡¯t see.


    For a second, he didn¡¯t move.


    Couldn¡¯t.


    Every instinct screamed at him to fix it, but he didn¡¯t know what the hell he was fighting.


    He picked her up again and carried her back to the bed.


    She shivered the whole way, silent, small.


    As soon as her body touched the mattress, some of the tension eased from her limbs.


    Not much. But enough.


    A faint sound slipped from her lips¡ªa low, broken moan.


    Ashton didn¡¯t think she knew she¡¯d made it.


    He felt it more than heard it.


    It cut straight through him.


    He pulled her closer.


    Not tight enough to hurt. Just enough to make sure she knew she wasn¡¯t alone.


    Hershes flickered, and her eyes blinked open¡ªclouded, confused, distant.


    He held her face, thumb brushing her cheek.


    His voice softened.


    ¡®Mirabelle. What happened?¡¯


    She shook her head, barely.


    Her hand clutched at his sleeve.


    ¡®Someone... someone dragged me in...¡¯ Her voice trembled, words slurring, breath short. ¡®It was Brooke...¡¯


    His blood iced.


    He hadn¡¯t caught most of it, just the name.


    He curled his hand around her shoulder, firm enough to anchor her.


    ¡®Look at me.¡¯ His voice was calm, but iron-threaded. ¡®Say it again. What did she do?¡¯


    She mumbled something broken, a rasp more than a sentence, trembling harder in his arms.


    Her mind was slipping fast, like she was underwater and drifting deeper every second.


    Ashton recalled what he¡¯d seen earlier.


    Saving Mirabelle from drowning had been his only thought.


    But now that the panic was ebbing, he remembered there¡¯d been someone else.


    A woman, climbing up from the other end of the pool.


    He hadn¡¯t spared her a second nce at the time.


    ¡®Mr Laurent?¡¯ A maid¡¯s soft voice broke through the haze behind him.


    She was holding a stack of neatly folded clothes. ¡®Should we help Mrs Laurent change into something dry?¡¯


    Ashton stood. ¡®Give me the clothes.¡¯


    The maid hesitated but handed them over.


    ¡®Leave the room.¡¯


    Everyone cleared out.


    Ashton crouched down beside the bed and gently pulled away the duvet.


    The white dress clung to her body like a second skin, soaked through, transparent in all the wrong ces.


    He pulled one of the thick towels off the chair and wrapped it around her shoulders.


    ¡®Mirabelle,¡¯ he said softly, brushing a wet strand of hair from her cheek. ¡®I need to get you dry. You¡¯re safe now. It¡¯s me. Ashton.¡¯


    She flinched when he tugged at the zipper on her dress, a feeble jerk that didn¡¯tst.


    Her fingers gripped his wrist for a second, then let go, as if recognising his touch.


    ¡®You¡¯re safe now,¡¯ he murmured again. ¡®It¡¯s just me.¡¯


    He peeled the dress off, slowly, carefully.


    Her skin was cold and slick, goosebumps running up her arms.


    He draped the first towel over her and started drying her off, slow circr movements, paying attention to her limbs, her back, her neck.


    She didn¡¯t protest, not really.


    She just shivered, chest rising and falling like she couldn¡¯t quite settle into her own body.


    Then came the bra and panties.


    Ashton hesitated, the towel paused mid-air.

 Chapter 91 - 92 Ashton’s POV: Confrontation

    <h4>Chapter 91: Chapter 92 Ashton¡¯s POV: Confrontation</h4>


    Her bra and panties were soaked through.


    Not a good idea to leave them on.


    Mirabelle squirmed when he reached for the bra sp, but his voice cut through the fog again¡ªlow, steady, close to her ear.


    ¡®It¡¯s me. Ashton. You¡¯re safe now.¡¯


    Her breath hitched, then she went still.


    He stripped off thest of the soaked fabric, towelled her off again, and reached for the change of clothes.


    A white dress shirt and suit trousers, both at least two sizes too big.


    They were his.


    There were women in the house¡ªhis brother¡¯s wife, his stepmother¡ªbut the idea of Mirabelle wearing anything of theirs made something primal crawl under his skin.


    He slipped the shirt over her shoulders, buttoned it up, rolled the cuffs.


    The trousers he folded at the waist and cinched loosely with one of his ties.


    She looked like she¡¯d wandered out of his closet half-asleep, hair damp, skin flushed, drowning inyers of fabric.


    Her eyes were barely open.


    She was somewhere else entirely.


    Ashton stood and shifted his weight, running a hand over his cor like it was strangling him.


    His own suit was drenched and clinging to him, but he didn¡¯t care.


    Eventually, Mirabelle¡¯s breathing started to even out.


    Hershes stopped twitching.


    She wasn¡¯t shivering as much.


    He stayed.


    A maid returned with a hairdryer.


    Ashton took it, set it to the lowest and least noisy setting, and gently worked through her hair with his fingers as the warm air puffed softly.


    Mirabelle didn¡¯t let go of his shirt the entire time, her hand clenched in the fabric.


    A knock.


    Another maid stepped in, bncing a tray.


    ¡®Here¡¯s the hot chocte you asked for, Mr Laurent.¡¯


    ¡®Leave it on the table.¡¯


    He stayed by her side, her fingers still twisted in his shirt, murmuring to her under his breath. Over and over.


    ¡®You¡¯re safe.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m here.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re safe now.¡¯


    Gradually, her shivering stopped.


    She curled into the nket he¡¯d tucked around her and didn¡¯t move.


    Ashton stood, eyes scanning her face.


    She looked young like this. Defenceless.


    Barely recognisable as the woman who¡¯d once dragged him off a bar stool and hauled him into the nearest hotel room.


    He turned to the maid. ¡®Stay with her. If she wakes up, get her anything she asks for. And inform me immediately.¡¯


    ¡®Yes, Mr Laurent.¡¯


    He lingered for a second longer, then walked out.


    In another room, he changed into a fresh suit.


    Pausing at the top of the staircasending, he surveyed the crowd below.


    Quentin was pping a towel uselessly around a woman, who sat on a sofa, dripping, face pale.


    She had clearly taken a dip.


    Hair soaked, dress stered to her skin, mascara running down in tiny rivulets.


    But otherwise, her breathing was easy, her eyes clear, her voice functional.


    Ashton stepped into the living room.


    The crowd silenced instantly, then shifted, parting without being asked.


    Isobel stood up immediately, her spine snapping straight, an automatic response of most people when they met Ashton face to face for the first time.


    ¡®Mr Laurent,¡¯ she said with wide eyes and forced concern, ¡®how¡¯s Mirabelle? I hope she¡¯s okay.¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯s resting.¡¯ His tone could¡¯ve iced a cocktail. ¡®What happened.¡¯


    She repeated the little monologue she¡¯d just fed the others¡ªhigh school, old friends, catching up, slippery tiles.


    ¡®She must¡¯ve panicked,¡¯ Isobel added, wringing her fingers. ¡®When she slipped, she just grabbed for me. I don¡¯t think she even realised it.¡¯


    Quentin eased forward gingerly. ¡®Ashton, um, can I use one of the rooms upstairs? Isobel¡¯s soaked through. She¡¯s freezing. I want her to change into something dry.¡¯


    Ashton didn¡¯t look at him. ¡®Just a second.¡¯


    Then he pivoted back to the star of the sob story.


    ¡®You¡¯re telling me Mirabelle pulled you into the water?¡¯


    Isobel blinked rapidly.


    Her lips parted, but no sound came out.


    A second too long passed.


    She gave an involuntary shudder, this time not from the cold.


    ¡®I mean... I guess she did, sort of. She was probably just startled. I¡¯m sure it wasn¡¯t intentional.¡¯


    Her eyes slid away.


    Ashton¡¯s fingers twitched.


    The urge to physically yank the truth out of her was visceral.


    He didn¡¯t, of course.


    But it sat there, humming under his skin like static.


    Without Mirabelle here, Isobel must have thought she could spin whatever tale she liked.


    And maybe with someone else, it would¡¯ve worked.


    But Ashton trusted Mirabelle.


    Even if she¡¯d been half-drowned and half-delirious, he trusted her more than he¡¯d ever trust a stranger wrapped in a damp towel and bad acting.


    ¡®Are you sure that¡¯s what happened?¡¯ he asked, giving her onest chance toe clean.


    Isobel missed itpletely.


    Her fingers clutched at the terry cloth. ¡®Yeah, I think so. I mean, it all happened so fast...¡¯


    ¡®If I pull the surveince footage, will it back up your version?¡¯ Ashton asked.


    She didn¡¯t know the cameras had been turned off at the request of a few privacy-obsessed guests.


    And Ashton wasn¡¯t about to enlighten her.


    Panic hit her eyes.


    Isobel turned to Quentin with a desperate look.


    He ventured, ¡®Ashton, why don¡¯t we deal with thister, yeah? Let¡¯s get Isobel upstairs before she catches pneumonia.¡¯


    ¡®She can leave when she answers the question,¡¯ Ashton said tly.


    His eyes never left her face.


    ¡®Will the tape back you up? Or not?¡¯


    She blinked. Fast.


    He could almost see the internal map in her brain, scrambling to remember where the cameras were.


    He didn¡¯t fill the silence.


    Just stared.


    She buckled.


    Not visibly.


    But he saw it.


    The flinch behind the eyes.


    The slight hitch in her breath.


    He stepped forward.


    Only a fraction.


    Twenty centimetres, maybe.


    But it was enough.


    Isobel jolted like she¡¯d been shocked, stumbled back onto the sofa without meaning to.


    Her throat worked around words that never made it out.


    Quentin dropped into a crouch beside her, resting one hand on her shoulder.


    Even he looked uneasy now.


    ¡®Come on, honey,¡¯ he said, voice a notch too high. ¡®Just tell Ashton what you saw, then we can go get you changed.¡¯


    Isobel licked her lips.


    A small voice piped up from the far side of the room.


    ¡®I saw what happened!¡¯

 Chapter 92 - 93 Ashton’s POV: Punishment

    <h4>Chapter 92: Chapter 93 Ashton¡¯s POV: Punishment</h4>


    The voice was high-pitched, clear.


    It sliced through the tension like someone¡¯d just popped a balloon in a silent church.


    Ashton¡¯s head snapped around.


    The kid couldn¡¯t have been more than seven.


    She wore a daffodil-yellow dress speckled with tiny white blossoms and had pigtails so neatly braided they looked vacuum-sealed.


    She looked right back at him,pletely unbothered by the fact that every single adult was now gaping at her.


    A woman bolted to her side and pped a hand gently over the girl¡¯s mouth.


    ¡®Don¡¯t talk nonsense, Freya,¡¯ the woman hissed, frantic. ¡®You don¡¯t know anything.¡¯


    She forced a shaky smile in Ashton¡¯s direction. ¡®She¡¯s just a kid. She doesn¡¯t understand¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Let her finish,¡¯ Ashton said.


    The woman¡¯s lips kept twitching like she wanted to protest, but all she could do was shut up and move to the side.


    Freya jabbed a finger straight at Isobel.


    ¡®I was ying out back just now. I saw you talking to that prettydy, but she didn¡¯t wanna talk to you. She tried to leave, and you chased her. Then you slipped and fell into the pool, and you dragged her in with you. You lied!¡¯


    Isobel nched.


    Quentin¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡®What? Isobel, is that true?¡¯


    She forced a shaky smile. ¡®Of course it¡¯s not. She¡¯s just a kid. You know how kids are¡ªthey love making things up.¡¯


    Quentin seized on that like a drowning man to a rope. ¡®Exactly. She¡¯s six. She doesn¡¯t know what she¡¯s saying!¡¯


    Freya¡¯s eyes burned. ¡®I saw it!¡¯


    She whipped off her tiny crossbody bag, unzipped it with furious little hands, and pulled out a yellow phone covered in sparkly stickers.


    ¡®I was filming a puppy in the yard and caught the whole thing by ident! Look!¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯ Isobel¡¯s voice turned strangled.


    Ashton held out his hand.


    Freya handed over the phone obediently.


    Silence swallowed the room as Ashton watched the video.


    Centre screen: a yful Golden Retriever puppy.


    Top right corner: two figures.


    Mirabelle with her back turned.


    Isobel lunging.


    A sidestep.


    A slip.


    Isobel¡¯s handtching onto Mirabelle¡¯s leg mid-fall.


    Both went under.


    Ashton yed it again.


    Then he held up the phone to Isobel¡¯s face, pausing on the exact frame of her grabbing Mirabelle.


    ¡®Got anything to say for yourself?¡¯


    Isobel¡¯s throat bobbed.


    Her mouth opened.


    Closed.


    Opened again.


    Quentin rushed in before she could. ¡®Ashton, I didn¡¯t know, I swear. I just believed whatever she told me¡ª¡¯


    ¡®I panicked!¡¯ Isobel blurted, her voice shrill and pitched high. ¡®It happened so fast¡ªI might¡¯ve tripped¡ªI don¡¯t remember exactly. Mirabelle was beside me, I just... reacted! It was instinct! I didn¡¯t mean to drag her in, I swear¡ª¡¯


    The lies tumbled out, quick and panicked.


    ¡®A moment ago, you stood here and made everyone believe Mirabelle pulled you in. I gave you the chance to tell the truth. You didn¡¯t take it. Not until the video exposed you.¡¯


    Around them, the crowd collectively stopped breathing.


    More than a few had been on the receiving end of that tone before¡ªAshton¡¯s calm, cold finality.


    The tone of a man delivering final judgement with no reprieve, no appeal.


    Isobel stood frozen, mascara beginning to crust at the corners of her eyes.


    She turned to Quentin, clutching his hand.


    Quentin looked at her, confusion, betrayal, disbelief, irritation, all fighting for space on his face.


    Then he nced at Ashton.


    Rock. Hard ce.


    But he never got the chance to choose.


    A man and a woman stepped out from the crowd.


    The woman¡¯s voice was brisk, clipped. ¡®She has nothing to do with Quentin.¡¯


    ¡®Mum!¡¯ Quentin choked.


    ¡®Shut up!¡¯ she snapped, then turned to Ashton, voice quivering with both fear and urgency. ¡®She¡¯s been ying us all!¡¯


    The man yanked Quentin away from Isobel, gripping his arm tight. ¡®You¡¯re done with her.¡¯


    ¡®Quentin broke up with her,¡¯ his mother added quickly. ¡®Didn¡¯t you, Quentin? She¡¯s nothing to do with us anymore!¡¯


    Their words had no effect on Ashton.


    His gaze flicked to Quentin, then to his parents.


    ¡®If you hadn¡¯t brought her here, none of this would¡¯ve happened. She¡¯s the culprit. You¡¯re the aplices.¡¯


    Quentin¡¯s mother nched at the implication.


    She stormed up to Isobel and pped her hard across the face.


    ¡®You troublemaker,¡¯ she spat. ¡®You dragged us into this mess. Now apologise to Ashton!¡¯


    She nced back at Ashton, seeking approval.


    He gave her nothing.


    The p jolted Isobel out of her daze.


    She blinked, dazed, struggling to process.


    ¡®I¡¯m sorry,¡¯ she stammered. ¡®It¡¯s all my fault, I... I wasn¡¯t thinking¡ª¡¯


    ¡®My wife nearly drowned. And you think a ¡°sorry¡± will cut it?¡¯


    Isobel¡¯s mouth opened, but the words were tangled in her throat.


    Then came another p, sharp and stinging,nding on the back of her head.


    Quentin¡¯s mother snarled. ¡®Try again! Say it like you mean it!¡¯


    Tears welled in Isobel¡¯s eyes. ¡®I swear, I¡¯m sorry. I was wrong¡ª¡¯


    Still, Ashton said nothing.


    Quentin exchanged a desperate look with his parents.


    They could feel it¡ªAshton wanted more.


    But what?


    With a tense breath, Quentin clenched his jaw, then kicked Isobel in the shin.


    ¡®Get on your knees. Apologise to my cousin properly.¡¯


    Isobel gasped, eyes wide with shock. ¡®Quentin!¡¯


    ¡®Just do it!¡¯


    Quentin nced at Ashton, who was still stone-faced.


    He kicked her again, harder this time, square in the back.


    Isobel crumpled, crashing to the floor with a sick thud.


    Her knees scraped against the cold marble, breath knocked from her lungs.


    She stayed there a moment, hunched and shaking.


    Then, slowly, she pushed herself up to sit, trembling, slumped and dishevelled.


    Ashton¡¯s towering frame loomed above her.


    From where she knelt, he seemed a mile high.


    Isobel clenched her fists, nails digging into her thigh.


    ¡®I¡¯m sorry.¡¯ She stared at the floor. ¡®I shouldn¡¯t have pushed Mirabelle. It was stupid. It was wrong. I...¡¯


    She hesitated, then raised a shaking hand.


    And pped herself across the face.


    Once.


    Twice.


    Her skin reddened.


    Each strike cracked through the silence like a gunshot.


    Ashton scowled.


    None of this came close to atoning for what Mirabelle had endured.


    The fire that had erupted in his chest the moment he saw Mirabelle half-submerged and gasping¡ªit hadn¡¯t gone out.


    The fury that had built, second by second, as he listened to her broken voice, watched her struggle to speak, to move¡ªnone of it had eased.


    A couple of self-inflicted ps and a stammered apology?


    Not nearly enough.


    Mirabelle had almost died.


    His eyes drilled into Quentin.


    If he hadn¡¯t brought Isobel to the party¡ª


    A maid rushed downstairs, breathless.


    ¡®Mr Laurent! It¡¯s Mrs Laurent, she¡ª¡¯

 Chapter 93 - 94 Ashton’s POV: Fever

    <h4>Chapter 93: Chapter 94 Ashton¡¯s POV: Fever</h4>


    Ashton was already moving before the maid had finished speaking.


    He took the stairs four at a time and reached the second floor in a matter of seconds.


    Not stopping to catch his breath, he shoved open the bedroom door.


    Mirabelle was buried under a pile of thick duvets, face flushed scarlet.


    Her skin had been bloodless just half an hour ago, ghost-pale and ice-cold after she¡¯d nearly drowned.


    Now she looked like she was overheating from the inside out.


    Her eyes were screwed tightly shut.


    ¡®She started heating up a while ago,¡¯ the maid behind him stammered. ¡®I got a thermometer and... it¡¯s forty degrees and climbing.¡¯


    Ashton strode over, pressed the back of his hand to her cheek.


    She wasn¡¯t just burning up; her skin was scalding.


    He just picked her up¡ªduvet and all¡ªcradled her to his chest, and turned on his heel.


    ¡®Hospital. Now.¡¯


    Downstairs, the room buzzed with shocked whispers, but Ashton barely registered them.


    He swept through the hallway, his footsteps thudding over the marble floor, and vanished through the front doors without sparing a nce back.


    The driver had already pulled up.


    Ashton slid into the back seat with Mirabelle in his arms, and the car peeled off a momentter, tyres screeching faintly against the cobblestones.


    Inside the mansion, the stunned silence didn¡¯tst.


    ¡®He left? Just like that?¡¯ someone whispered.


    ¡®It¡¯s the old Mr Laurent¡¯s birthday, for God¡¯s sake. Ashton¡¯s the head of the family. What happens to the party now?¡¯


    ¡®The old man¡¯s still here. The show must go on, right?¡¯


    In the middle of the chaos, Isobel was still kneeling on the floor like some half-forgotten prop.


    No one knew what to do with her.


    No one wanted to be the first to ask.


    Then the sound of a cane hitting the floor snapped through the chatter.


    Edouard Laurent appeared at the top of the stairs, his expression thunderous.


    He thumped the cane once more for effect.


    ¡®Enough. All this noise. What are you, chickens in a bloody coup?¡¯


    Even now, even retired, even half out of the family business, the old man¡¯s presence sucked the air out of the room.


    He scowled, muttering under his breath. ¡®Finally get the family together, and that ungrateful brat walks out in the middle of it. The boy clearly doesn¡¯t give a damn what this old man thinks.¡¯


    Next to him, Den shrugged his shoulders. ¡®Not his fault, Pop. me Quentin¡¯s psycho girlfriend. She started it. Big bro¡¯s not gonna sit through dinner while his girl¡¯s dying of a fever or whatever.¡¯


    Edouard¡¯s expression darkened.


    He knew Ashton wasn¡¯t the problem.


    But ditching a family event for a woman chafed at his pride.


    His gazended on the wreck still kneeling on the floor.


    ¡®You think this is a bloody street market?¡¯ he barked. ¡®Dragging strays into the ancestral home like it¡¯s a bloody dog shelter?¡¯


    Quentin¡¯s mother paled.


    She looked like she might throw up or faint.


    ¡®I¡¯m sorry, Uncle Edouard. I... We¡¯ll get her out of here immediately!¡¯


    She lunged forward, snatched Isobel¡¯s arm. ¡®Get up! You¡¯re humiliating all of us!¡¯


    Isobel said nothing.


    Her face was a raw, streaked mess of mascara and blood, smeared from where she¡¯d pped herself till her skin cracked.


    Her designer heels had snapped.


    Her dress clung damp and crumpled.


    She didn¡¯t react to the shouting. Or the shoving.


    Edouard mmed his cane again, loud enough to make the crystal chandelier rattle. ¡®All of you¡ªout!¡¯


    Quentin and his parents froze for half a second.


    Then bolted.


    Quentin grabbed Isobel by the elbow, dragging her limp form out the double doors like luggage with a broken handle.


    ***


    Inside the back of the Rolls, Mirabelle was wrapped so tightly in a duvet she looked half-mummified, but her body still shuddered like she¡¯d been left outside in a blizzard.


    ¡®Faster,¡¯ Ashton barked at the driver.


    Mirabelle¡¯s hand was a limp, burning thing in his.


    Ashton hated how light it felt. Hated the tremble in her jaw, the way her teeth tapped faintly behind her lips.


    His chest felt like someone had cinched a steel cable around it and started cranking.


    He brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek.


    Her skin pulsed with heat.


    ¡®You afraid of water?¡¯ he asked, quiet now, the way he only ever spoke when it was her.


    She wasn¡¯t fully out.


    Her eyes were closed,shes clumped from the pool water, but her lips moved.


    ¡®Scared... yeah...¡¯


    Ashton pulled her closer until her forehead nudged the hollow beneath his corbone.


    ¡®Why?¡¯


    She mumbled, slow like her brain wasgging a few seconds behind, the fever turning her words sticky.


    ¡®Drowned... once. In high school.¡¯


    Ashton stilled.


    She shifted against him, instinctively curling into his body, cooler than hers.


    Her cheek pressed against his chest.


    Through the duvet, he felt her soft curves, the fine tremble of her ribs with every breath.


    She smelled like chlorine and hot chocte.


    He touched her face again.


    Still boiling.


    His palm hovered for a second before settling on her cheekbone, gentle.


    ¡®Was Isobel Brooke there? Back in high school?¡¯


    Mirabelle¡¯s brow furrowed like someone had tugged at a dream she didn¡¯t want to look at.


    ¡®Yeah... yeah, she was...¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s expression iced over. ¡®She pushed you in?¡¯


    ¡®No...¡¯ Mirabelle blinked slowly.


    Her pupils barely tracked.


    She was trying to remember, her face scrunched up with the effort.


    Ashton stroked her arm. ¡®It¡¯s okay. Never mind that now. Don¡¯t talk. Don¡¯t think.¡¯


    ¡®Where... we going?¡¯


    ¡®To the hospital.¡¯


    She frowned. ¡®Don¡¯t like... hospitals.¡¯


    He wanted to ask why not, but Mirabelle had already drifted somewhere else.


    In broken fragments¡ªhalf-formed, jumbled, slurred¡ªshe started mumbling into his chest.


    He had to tilt his head down, almost press his ear to her lips just to catch it.


    Bits and pieces slipped out: Isobel. The drink. The creep waiting for her at some derelict building.


    And then the worst part¡ªalmost drowning in that river, her lungs full of water, no one to help.


    Ashton listened, face carved from stone.


    He regretted it now, regretted not breaking his own rule about notying a hand on a woman, not even one like Isobel.


    He should¡¯ve done it.


    Should¡¯ve put her on the ground back at that party when he had the chance.


    His thoughts spiralled, darker by the second, veering into ces he usually kept chained up and buried deep.


    Until the sharp wail of an ambnce siren cut through, snapping him back.

 Chapter 94 - 95 Ashton’s POV: Things He Didn’t Know

    <h4>Chapter 94: Chapter 95 Ashton¡¯s POV: Things He Didn¡¯t Know</h4>


    ¡®Sir, we¡¯re here,¡¯ the driver said.


    Fifteen minutester...


    The private hospital room was silent except for the slow drip-drip-drip of the IV.


    Ashton stayed beside the bed, adjusting the nket over Mirabelle¡¯s shoulder.


    Her face was flushed. Her hair stuck to her forehead in damp clumps.


    He pulled out his phone and made a call.


    Yvaine Carlisle sprinted in almost an hourter, panting, sweat clinging to her temples.


    She nearly mmed into the doorframe.


    ¡®What the hell happened? Why¡¯s she burning up?¡¯


    Mirabelle was asleep, breathing unevenly.


    Ashton pointed his chin towards the sitting area. His voice dropped. ¡®She fell in the pool. Fever spiked after we got her out.¡¯


    ¡®She fell?¡¯ Yvaine had dropped onto the sofa. She now shot back up like the cushion bit her. ¡®She¡¯s terrified of water. That must¡¯ve scared the shit out of her.¡¯


    Ashton narrowed his eyes. ¡®You knew that?¡¯


    He¡¯d heard the story from Mirabelle in the car, but her words were disjointed, and there were missing pieces.


    He hadn¡¯t pushed her, but he wanted the full story now.


    Yvaine folded her arms. ¡®Yeah. She¡¯s fine with baths and stuff, but she can¡¯t swim. I mean, she can, but she doesn¡¯t like it. She freezes up near deep water.¡¯ She nced back towards the bed. ¡®How the fuck did she end up in the pool?¡¯


    ¡®Isobel Brooke yanked her in.¡¯


    Yvaine¡¯s face darkened fast. She jumped to her feet again. ¡®That bitch¡¯s back in Skyline?¡¯


    She shoved her sleeves up to her elbows. ¡®Where is she?¡¯


    ¡®Sit down.¡¯ Ashton¡¯s voice sharpened. ¡®You¡¯re going to tell me exactly what happened back then. I¡¯ll take care of Isobel.¡¯


    Yvaine stared at him.


    He stared back.


    ¡®Fine,¡¯ she said a minuteter, having lost the staring contest. ¡®Mirabelle and I grew up together. But I got shipped off to Europe for high school. I wasn¡¯t around when Isobel started that bullying crap. Mirabelle told meter.¡¯


    Sheid it all out. Names. Incidents. The kind of details that made Ashton¡¯s jaw twitch.


    It matched what Mirabelle had said earlier¡ªsame story, just clearer and ten times nastier.


    Halfway through, Yvaine got so wound up she grabbed the water ss from the table and downed two big gulps like she¡¯d been yelling.


    ¡®It was straight-up bullying. No question about it. And it wasn¡¯t just Mirabelle. Isobel went after anyone who wouldn¡¯t kiss her arse. Everyone knew. But no one did shit. Mirabelle¡¯s parents took thirty grand and settled out of court. No charges. Just swept it under the rug.¡¯


    She mmed the ss down. Water sloshed over the rim.


    ¡®And don¡¯t tell me it was about the money¡ªthey didn¡¯t need it. They had business ties with the Brookes. Just didn¡¯t wanna rock the boat. They treated her like she didn¡¯t matter. She never saw a cent of that payout. Not one damn dor. Her parents are scum. But what could she do? She was just a kid back then.¡¯


    Her voice cracked. She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand like she didn¡¯t want him to see.


    Ashton reached across the table and nudged the tissue box closer. ¡®Her family treated her like shit. Do you know why?¡¯


    Yvaine¡¯s tears vanished on cue. Her voice jumped an octave.


    ¡®Treated her like shit? Try worse than a stray. Those two clowns go around in public ying happy family, acting like they dote on all their kids equally. Bullshit. Behind closed doors, they treated Mirabelle like the family¡¯s live-in help. Actually, scratch that¡ªthey were nicer to their cleaning staff.¡¯


    She spat the names out like they tasted foul.


    ¡®Franklin Vance kept his distance. Always ¡°busy with work¡±, like that excused him. Caroline Vance pampered Catherine like she shat gold, and whatever little affection she had left went straight to her precious niece, Serenna Oakley. Meanwhile, Mirabelle got scraps¡ªif that.¡¯


    Yvaine shook her head, furious.


    Then she answered Ashton¡¯s unspoken question: ¡®I¡¯ve said it before¡ªthey must¡¯ve swapped babies at the hospital. It¡¯s the only thing that makes sense. No decent parent treats their own kid like that. I even told Mirabelle to grab some of Frank and Caroline¡¯s hair for a secret DNA test, but she wouldn¡¯t do it. I let it go.¡¯ She shrugged. ¡®Maybe it¡¯s easier not knowing.¡¯


    Ashton didn¡¯t respond. His eyes stayed on the water ss Yvaine had mmed down earlier and imagined it was Frank and Caroline¡¯s faces.


    Yvaine sighed.


    ¡®You¡¯ve no idea how much she put up with. She took up boxing just so she could defend herself. And that skank Isobel Brooke? Still has the balls to show her face back in Skyline. I hope karma parks itself on her doorstep.¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s ears buzzed. Yvaine kept talking, but he couldn¡¯t hear her anymore.


    She left at some point, and the room fell into a dead silence.


    Eventually, he moved.


    Mirabelley still, buried under the white duvet.


    Her face had lost its flush¡ªskin pale, mouth ck, darkshes against her cheeks.


    Ashton stepped closer and touched her cheek.


    Her skin felt cool again.


    He bent down and kissed her forehead.


    Then he climbed into the bed, pulled her against his chest, wrapped an arm around her waist, and closed his eyes.


    Something tugged at him. Pressure against his chest. He blinked awake.


    The room was dark. The light from the corridor sliced in under the door, but didn¡¯t reach the bed.


    His back was stiff from the way he¡¯d been lying.


    Mirabelle was half on top of him now, her forehead pressed to the base of his throat.


    The IV needle had been removed at some point; there was a faint red mark on the back of her hand where it used to be.


    That same hand was now curled into his shirtfront, fingers twitching like she was searching for something.


    She kept shifting, restless, her body twisting against his like her clothes were irritating her skin.


    Her breathing was uneven. Her forehead and cheeks were damp. Sweat had soaked through her cor. Her eyes were still shut,shes mped tight. Her mouth was drawn. Tense.


    The heating off her was worse than before.

 Chapter 95 - 96 Fever

    <h4>Chapter 95: Chapter 96 Fever</h4>


    I floated.


    Not in water. Not anymore.


    But my limbs felt loose, weightless, like gravity had forgotten me.


    I drifted in and out of sleep, memories slipping through the cracks.


    Ashton¡¯s arms. The sting of pool water against my skin.


    A towel. A bed. Sleep. But not for long.


    Then the blur of movement¡ªhis chest under my cheek, the lurch of a car.


    I was somewhere else after that. Multiple voices, hands on my forehead and wrist, an electronic beep, receding footsteps, then a different kind of quiet. Cooler air. Sterile, sharp.


    A hospital. I knew the smell.


    At some point, something slid into my arm. A tube. IV fluid dripping, seeping into my bloodstream.


    Cold trickled in. I shivered in relief.


    There were voices again. One of them soft, tight with worry.


    Yvaine? Maybe. I couldn¡¯t hold onto it long enough to be sure.


    Then sleep again. Real this time. Deep. Still.


    My body sank, just for a moment.


    But peace didn¡¯tst.


    Something inside me stirred.


    A flicker at first.


    Then a steady burn, crawling under my skin likeva waking up.


    The heat was back.


    Every breath stung.


    The pillow was wet. The sheet stuck to my spine.


    I wed at the fabric near my corbone, yanked it down, but it wasn¡¯t enough.


    I needed cool.


    Something moved beside me. Weight shifted. Air brushed my arm.


    I heard the electronic beep of a thermometer, then a damp towel draped over my forehead.


    I reached. Found a chest. Solid, broad, warm, but not scorching. The shirt was soft with wear.


    I grabbed it and pulled.


    He tried to rise.


    ¡®It¡¯s okay, Mira. I¡¯m not leaving. Just going to the bathroom.¡¯


    I made a guttural sound. My arm locked around his middle. Yanked.


    He stayed.


    I pressed my cheek to his chest. His heartbeat thumped, steady.


    The surface of his skin felt cooler than mine.


    But not cool enough.


    I dragged my face lower, across the fabric, chasing the cool.


    My fingers popped a button.


    His hand caught my wrist. ¡®Mira.¡¯


    I kept going.


    Another button gone.


    Skin. Cooler there. I pressed my mouth to it.


    He twitched. His stomach rose under my lips.


    I stayed there, inhaling. Laundry soap. Salt. The faint scent of sweat.


    My leg hooked around his hip. My thigh slid against him.


    His breath changed. Slower. Rougher.


    I pulled the rest of the shirt free, shoved it aside.


    My hands spread over his chest, mapped the shape of him. Smooth skin, soft hair.


    My palms moved with purpose, ttening, roaming, learning him.


    He groaned.


    I shifted again, rubbing my face over his chest, the dips and contours.


    Found cooler patches, chased them.


    Beneath his corbone. Along his ribs. Down to his navel. Pressed my cheek there.


    He jerked. His thigh tensed under mine.


    My fingers slid under the waistband of his trousers, searching for the line between warm and cool.


    There was a shape. Rounded, soft. Definitely not cold.


    A grunt. ¡®Mira!¡¯ His hand gripped my shoulder, dragged my face away.


    Another hand threw a nket over me.


    I kicked it off the bed. Air hit my skin. Better.


    Any time I felt fabric¡ªshirt, sheet, waistband¡ªI shoved it aside. Too hot. It held the heat like instion. I wanted none of it.


    I yanked at his trousers. Tugged at mine. Anything that clung to skin, I fought off.


    He caught my wrist again, this timeughing under his breath.


    ¡®Much as I¡¯d like to see you naked, this is a hospital.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t care. Growled. Clung tighter.


    Then he left. The bed shifted, weight gone.


    A huff escaped my throat. I struggled to open my eyes, but my eyelids weighed a ton.


    Then cool pressed to my forehead. Damp. Soft. A towel or ice pack.


    Relief hit like a gust of wind.


    I let myself sag into the mattress. Muscles unknotted.


    He climbed in behind me, arm sneaking around my waist. Warm again. Heavy.


    I shoved at his chest, annoyed. Wanted the cold, not the furnace of his body.


    He paused. Didn¡¯t move. Then pulled back. Mattress lifted slightly.


    He muttered something. I didn¡¯t catch the words.


    Two more ice packster, the coolness settled my skin. My breathing evened. My head stopped pulsing.


    But the human nket came back and was heating me up again. His chest, his arms¡ªtoo warm.


    My skin started to prickle. I squirmed. My thigh rubbed against his. Still too hot.


    I tried to slide out of his hold.


    His arm mped around my waist like a seatbelt.


    I whined under my breath. Pushed at his chest.


    No use.


    I tried twisting, rolling.


    Nothing gave.


    Half my body slid off the mattress before he reeled me back in with one swift tug.


    ¡®Careful,¡¯ he muttered, voice thick with sleep.


    I might have red. Might¡¯ve just imagined it.


    ¡®Too hot,¡¯ Iined.


    Silence, then the weight shifted. He rolled away. The bed dipped. Rose.


    Air filled the space where he used to upy.


    I clutched the ice pack and didn¡¯t move.


    He said something, maybe an oath.


    Then he was gone.


    His weight left the bed, but his scent lingered.

 Chapter 96 - 97 Ashton’s POV: Hot, Cold, Hot

    <h4>Chapter 96: Chapter 97 Ashton¡¯s POV: Hot, Cold, Hot</h4>


    Ashton was about to explode.


    His skin ran cooler than hers¡ªthat was the whole reason she¡¯dtched onto him in the first ce.


    But the coolness didn¡¯tst long.


    The moment her lips brushed his skin, heat punched through his core like a re. His chest tightened, ribspressing like his lungs had shrunk.


    She was doing unspeakable things to his shirt, tugging and wing at the fabric with the same feverish impatience she¡¯d shown that night at the hotel.


    Apparently, she had a habit of tearing buttons off when she didn¡¯t feel like undoing them one by one.


    His throat was dry as sand. Forming words was a challenge he had no time for.


    At first, he¡¯d tried to behave.


    She was feverish. Burning up. Maybe even delirious.


    Someone had to be the adult in the room.


    But it was getting harder by the second.


    Every time she whimpered in that breathy, unsatisfied way when he edged away, every time her mouth ghosted over his chest or her cheek dragged across his stomach, another bolt of heat tore through him.


    Her breath hit his skin¡ªwet, warm, careless¡ªand he nearly flinched.


    He didn¡¯t move. Couldn¡¯t.


    He kept his arms locked around her like a brace, holding himself several decent inches away.


    Then her nose bumped his belt. Her cheeknded squarely against the swollen bulge straining in his trousers.


    Ashton swore under his breath.


    He caught her face in both hands and gently, firmly, pushed it away.


    He shifted, angling himself so that the tent in his pants wasn¡¯t aiming straight at her flushed, inquisitive face.


    But she kepting. Ripping through fabric like it offended her.


    He nearly gave in.


    His eyes darted to the door, back to her fevered cheeks, then to the door again.


    ¡®Fuck.¡¯


    He pried her off, untangling her octopus limbs, and stood up to grab the ice packs from the medical cart.


    The cold hit his fingers first¡ªblessed, numbing relief. He pressed a pack to her skin.


    It worked. Gradually, she quieted. Her limbs stilled. Her breathing slowed.


    His didn¡¯t.


    He pushed air through his nose, slow and shallow, trying to quash the fire crawling up his spine.


    Trying not to stare at the loose gown slipping off her shoulder, revealing smooth, bare skin and the soft curve of her back.


    She was sick. She didn¡¯t know what she was doing.


    He didn¡¯t have that excuse.


    Still, his body had turned traitor. Heat poured off him, sweat gathering under his cor. It felt like he was getting a fever of his own.


    She noticed first. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused. She made a small, irritated sound and shoved at his chest with both hands.


    ¡®Hot. Go away.¡¯


    She rolled to the edge of the bed, kicking off the covers.


    He reached out before she could fall. ¡®Careful.¡¯


    His hand wrapped around her waist and hauled her back, anchoring her against his side.


    She kept squirming, arms and legs iling in slow motion, fists thumping against his ribs.


    Her face scrunched, eyes pinched shut, mouth drawn into a pout. She smacked at him like a sulky toddler.


    None of it hurt. She didn¡¯t have the strength for that.


    He sighed and let her go.


    Standing, he reced the melting ice pack on her forehead with a fresh one, then pointed the infrared thermometer at her temple.


    The reading blinked back at him¡ªher fever was starting to drop.


    Her face crumpled with irritation every time he tried to get close. If he sat on the edge of the bed or reached for her hand, she jerked or rolled away.


    Now that she had the real ice packs, it seemed she no longer needed the human-sized one.


    Ashton left the room, easing the door shut behind him.


    He crossed the suite, went straight for the windows, shoved them all open.


    Cold air crashed into the room. Wind tore through his hair and pped against his bare skin, reminding him just how shirtless he was.


    He pulled out his phone and dialled Dominic Everett.


    ¡®Dig up everything you can on Isobel Brooke,¡¯ he said as soon as the line picked up. ¡®Back to her school days. Bullying, assault¡ªwhatever she¡¯s got buried, I want it. Find the proof. Find the people. And lean on the Brooke family¡¯s businesses. Quiet pressure. Make them sweat.¡¯


    It was past two in the morning, but Dominic sounded wide awake and alert.


    ¡®Got it, boss. I¡¯ll start now.¡¯


    ¡®Where¡¯s Quentin Laurent working?¡¯


    ¡®Admin at Laurent Logistics Management. Desk job.¡¯


    ¡®Transfer him.¡¯


    ¡®Where to?¡¯


    ¡®anbaatar.¡¯


    A pause, then: ¡®Understood. We¡¯ve got a system implementation project there. He¡¯ll oversee it. Timeline¡¯s three years.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t let him set foot back here till it¡¯s done.¡¯


    ¡®Copy that.¡¯


    ¡®Franklin Vance is still trying to bid on our Midtown project?¡¯


    ¡®Yes.¡¯


    ¡®cklist him. And tip off a tax auditor while you¡¯re at it.¡¯


    ¡®Understood.¡¯


    ¡®Wake Geoffrey. Tell him to pack a change of clothes and my shaving kit. Get Gino to deliver them to St Jude¡¯s Metropolitan, Director¡¯s Wing.¡¯


    ¡®Right away.¡¯


    Ashton paused, recollecting. ¡®There¡¯s a girl. Freya Laurent. Find out if her parents are on our payroll. If they are, get HR to review their files. I want them to have a promotion. And bonuses. Make it generous.¡¯


    Freya¡¯s video had exposed Isobel. Without it, things would have taken longer.


    He would¡¯ve promoted Freya herself, but she was six. Not quite hireable yet.


    Ashton ended the call.


    Wind howled through the open windows. He stayed put, eyes fixed on the city beyond the ss, cold air whipping through his hair, over his chest, slicing into him down to the bone.


    Didn¡¯t help.


    His body still burned.


    He pulled a cigarette from the pack, turned it over in his fingers, held it up.


    His gaze flicked back to the closed door behind which Mirabelle slept.


    Ashton shoved the lighter back in his pocket. He lifted the cigarette to his nose and inhaled. Tobo. Stale sweetness. The sting bit at the back of his throat.


    His chest stopped burning.


    He stood there until the pressure in his groin finally subsided. Until the sweat cooled. Until he could be in the same room with her again without risking anything.


    Then he turned and went back in.


    She was still asleep. Barely. The nket had twisted around her legs, one foot dangling out from beneath the mess. Her breathing was uneven, shallow, chest rising in fits.


    He knelt beside the bed and touched her forehead.


    She leaned into his palm before her eyes even opened, her voice muffled in the pillow. ¡®Come here.¡¯


    He climbed in beside her and pulled her against his chest.


    She shifted instinctively, nose nestling against his corbone.


    She was in a paper-thin hospital gown. He was still shirtless.


    He¡¯d thought the cold air and the cigarette had fixed the problem. But the moment her nipples brushed against his chest through the fabric, his entire body snapped to attention.


    ¡®Fuck,¡¯ he muttered. Cursing himself. Cursing his usually faultless restraint.


    Oblivious, Mirabelle burrowed closer, soft breasts squashed fully against his bare skin.


    This time, it was his turn to squirm. ¡®Mira...¡¯


    She let out a drowsy whine when he tried to shift away.


    He rotated his lower half in the opposite direction, hips awkwardly angled away from her, while his arms stayed locked around her shoulders.


    He was twisting himself into a human pretzel. But he wasn¡¯t letting go.


    Five minutes passed.


    Then she started wriggling again. Her brow scrunched. ¡®Too hot.¡¯


    She rolled away.


    Ashton got up and escaped into the en suite. The shower sted cold. Ten minutes under the icy spray cooled his skin, but not enough.


    Because the second he returned to bed, she rolled straight into him again.


    He exhaled slowly, swiped his phone from the nightstand, and typed out a message.


    [Tell Geoffrey to pack several more changes of clothes. And underwear.]

 Chapter 97 - 98 Ab Study

    <h4>Chapter 97: Chapter 98 Ab Study</h4>


    I woke up with my face pressed against something warm and solid.


    Took a second to realise it was skin.


    Male skin. Tanned, smooth, faintly salty. Rising and falling in a steady, hypnotic rhythm.


    My fingers were digging into someone¡¯s abs.


    And not soft ones.


    The room was dim¡ªearly grey morning kind of dim¡ªbut not dim enough to miss the fact that I was clinging to Ashton like a ko, and he was bare-chested.


    I blinked hard. Stayed still for one beat, then another, waiting for my sluggish brain to boot up.


    Last night was a blur. I remembered the fever, the IV drip, the ice packs. Ashton getting into bed with me. Then leaving.


    More than once, apparently.


    Beyond that? nk.


    My hospital gown was still on, but thin enough to feel the heat radiating off him.


    And my hand¡ªGod¡ªwas still resting on his stomach.


    I yanked it back. Stopped halfway.


    Peeked at his face. His eyes were closed.


    Slowly, sneakily, like a thief, Iid my hand back down.


    The feel of him was ridiculous.


    I¡¯d taken boxing sses, tried to build up decent muscle, managed a t stomach on a good day, but never a six-pack. Let alone an eight.


    He had eight.


    A perfect eight-pack.


    So defined it looked carved. Clinical, almost. Like it should be in an anatomy textbook.


    I ran my fingertips lightly over the ridges, tracing the grooves between. Noting the contrast in muscle distribution, not just surface tone.


    Rhys had abs too, product of his dedicated gym routine.


    But it wasn¡¯t the same.


    I didn¡¯t have a bodybuilder¡¯s vocabry to name the difference. I just knew Ashton¡¯s muscles weren¡¯t limited to his midsection. His chest was just as firm, and judging by how his thigh felt under mine, the rest of him matched.


    On the other hand, Rhys¡¯s abs were probably the only solid parts on him. His hands were smooth and soft. His skin, pampered.


    I nced at Ashton again. Still out.


    Emboldened, I pressed my palm t against his stomach. Felt the rise and fall of his breath. The tension held, even in sleep.


    Shouldn¡¯t muscles rx in sleep?


    He felt... ready. Like he could go from deep sleep to ready for battle in a blink. Like a jaguar.


    ¡®Morning.¡¯


    My hand jerked back. ¡®M-morning.¡¯


    I suddenly became very aware that my thigh was still hooked over his. I shifted to roll away.


    And that¡¯s when I felt the problem.


    The big, unmistakable problem.


    I cleared my throat. ¡®Did you... stay with me all night?¡¯


    ¡®You don¡¯t remember?¡¯ His voice rumbled overhead.


    There was something different about him. A lightness in his voice.


    He was in a good mood.


    ¡®I was kind of out of it. Probably delirious.¡¯


    He touched my forehead, then drew back. ¡®Fever¡¯s gone.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah. I feel better.¡¯


    He nced down at me. ¡®Then why¡¯s your face still red?¡¯


    I froze mid-leg-unhook.


    ¡®I¡¯ll get the doctor,¡¯ he said,ughter threading through his voice as he gently untangled our limbs, got out of bed, grabbed a shirt from itsundry bag on the rack, and stepped out.


    I sat up. My body felt heavy, but no longer feverish.


    I patted my cheeks. Still hot.


    Padding into the bathroom, I sshed cold water on my face. Leaned over the sink.


    Then I looked up.


    And saw the problem.


    No bra.


    Two very obvious points were poking at the thin fabric of the gown.


    ¡®Damn it.¡¯


    He must¡¯ve seen. No way he didn¡¯t.


    ¡®Damn it,¡¯ I muttered again and rushed back to bed, yanking the nket up to my chin.


    The doctor came in, checked my vitals, told me I needed to stay a few days for observation.


    Ashton had breakfast brought up while I was still fiddling with the nket. He raised the tray table and started setting up like it was Sunday brunch at a boutique hotel.


    I would¡¯ve insisted on eating at the coffee table like a normal human with four working limbs, but I kept quiet.


    No way was I letting the girls be noticed.


    Whoever delivered the breakfast must¡¯ve thought Ashton was catering for a football team.


    Toast. Pastries. Scrambled eggs. Fresh fruit. Four mini jars of jam. Butter. Coffee. Juice. A tall bottle of water that didn¡¯t even fit on the tray.


    Then he cleared the side table and added cheese. Cold cuts. Smoked salmon. in yoghurt in a ss jar.


    ¡®I¡¯m not a whale, you know,¡¯ I said, squinting at him.


    ¡®Doctor said you might not have much of an appetite. So I asked for variety. Just eat what you want.¡¯


    ¡®Join me,¡¯ I invited.


    He nodded and started to sit on the edge of the bed, then paused.


    ¡®What¡¯s wrong?¡¯


    ¡®Nothing.¡¯ He pulled up a chair instead.


    I picked up a spoon and got to it.


    By the time he¡¯d unscrewed the jam lid, I¡¯d already demolished a cup of yoghurt and half a slice of French toast.


    He watched me for a full minute.


    ¡®What?¡¯ I asked, self-conscious.


    ¡®You eat fast,¡¯ he said, calmly, like an observation in a chart. ¡®And you swallow fast.¡¯


    ¡®Proof that my appetite¡¯s fine.¡¯


    ¡®Eating too fast isn¡¯t good for digestion.¡¯


    I muttered, ¡®Right. Got it.¡¯


    I tried slowing down. Lasted maybe three bites before I gave up and let my mouth do its thing.


    He didn¡¯t mention it again. Just looked at me like he was filing it away forter.


    The more food in my stomach, the more ofst night came back.


    I remembered talking. Saying too much.


    Stuff I¡¯d only ever told Yvaine. Things I¡¯d buried years ago. Things I didn¡¯t want Ashton¡ªor anyone¡ªto know.


    I trusted him; he¡¯d been the ideal fake husband, a perfect partner in crime.


    But I hadn¡¯t meant to show him the broken bits of the high school version of me.


    I hoped he¡¯d forgotten.


    Apparently not.


    ¡®Isobel Brooke¡¯s been arrested,¡¯ he said.

 Chapter 98 - 99 (Almost) Full Disclosure

    <h4>Chapter 98: Chapter 99 (Almost) Full Disclosure</h4>


    ¡®Arrested?¡¯ The juice in my mouth suddenly tasted sweeter. ¡®For what?¡¯


    ¡®Aggravated assault.¡¯


    ¡®On?¡¯


    ¡®You.¡¯


    I touched my own nose. ¡®But I wasn¡¯t assaulted.¡¯


    ¡®She pushed you into a pool.¡¯


    ¡®True,¡¯ I admitted. ¡®But I¡¯m fine now. No ¡°serious bodily injury¡±.¡¯


    ¡®Not forck of trying on her part,¡¯ Ashton said, voice t.


    ¡®I bet her family¡¯s already posted bail.¡¯ The Brookes had more than enough money for that.


    ¡®Not this time.¡¯


    ¡®Why not? Don¡¯t get me wrong, I¡¯m thrilled she¡¯s finally been arrested, but it¡¯s just my word against hers.¡¯


    ¡®There¡¯s evidence. Someone filmed it.¡¯


    I perked up. ¡®Really? Who? I need to send them flowers.¡¯


    His lips curved. ¡®I already took care of that.¡¯


    ¡®Thanks.¡¯ I took another long sip of juice, savouring it. ¡®She used to mess with me in school. Barely back in town and already pulling the same crap. I¡¯m not letting it slide this time.¡¯


    Ashton asked, ¡®What did she do to you?¡¯


    ¡®Didn¡¯t I already tell you? In the car?¡¯


    ¡®Bits and pieces. You were mostly incoherent.¡¯


    I sipped the juice, set it down, tasted the coffee, abandoned that too. Picked up the buttered toast and chewed in silence.


    He didn¡¯t push.


    I sighed, lowered the toast. He already knew half of it. Might as well give him the rest. Sort of.


    I gave him a trimmed-down version. Just the surface. Skipped the worst of it.


    Spilling everything while feverish and half-dead was one thing. Doing it stone-cold sober with full brain function was harder. Even with him.


    If Ashton noticed my dodge, he didn¡¯t call me on it.


    ¡®What do you want to do?¡¯ he asked.


    ¡®I want to sue her. Properly. If the prosecutor drops the criminal charges¡¯¡ªI rolled my eyes ¡ª¡®because the Brookes will be working overtime pulling strings likest time, then I¡¯m bringing a civil suit. And not just for this. For everything back in high school too. The police kept records. Finn, mywyer, said he can get them.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯ve thought this through.¡¯


    ¡®I have.¡¯


    It was an idea I¡¯d been toying with ever since Serenna told me Isobel was back in town. Isobel Brooke was a rot I intended to cut out for good.


    ¡®You¡¯ve got the entire LGH legal department at your disposal,¡¯ Ashton said.


    I opened my mouth to object.


    He beat me to it. ¡®They¡¯re already working with yourwyer on the libel suit. May as well keep the teamwork going.¡¯


    I paused, then nodded. ¡®Thanks.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t look thrilled. ¡®You don¡¯t have to thank me. You¡¯re my wife. Mywyers are yourwyers.¡¯


    I joked, ¡®Tell that to couples in the middle of a divorce.¡¯


    Silence.


    He didn¡¯t crack a smile. Didn¡¯t so much as twitch a corner of his mouth.


    I winced, took refuge in my coffee.


    After a beat, he said, ¡®You¡¯ve got me. If you ever need anything, youe to me.¡¯


    I nodded. ¡®I know.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t think you do.¡¯


    I looked up. His voice had gone sharp.


    ¡®You were gearing up to sue Rhys on your own. nning to handle Isobel by yourself. When there was trouble at work, you dealt with it alone.¡¯


    There was quiet heat behind his words. usation, tightly leashed.


    ¡®How did you¡ª¡¯ I broke off. ¡®Of course you knew. Hence that dinner with Octavia Grey. Who told you?¡¯


    He ignored the question. ¡®You ever need anything, youe to me.¡¯ This time, it was amand, not a suggestion. ¡®As long as you¡¯re Mrs Laurent, anything that touches you, touches me.¡¯


    ¡®Aye aye, Captain.¡¯ His tone was so dead serious I nearly stood and saluted.


    Halfway through breakfast, his phone went off. Twice. Long calls. One of them in French. I nibbled a croissant and watched the butter melt into a golden pool on the porcin te.


    When he came back in, I said, ¡®You don¡¯t have to babysit me. I¡¯m not dying. Or ny. If you¡¯re that worried, get me a nurse.¡¯


    He shook his head. ¡®I¡¯ll work from here.¡¯


    I could¡¯ve argued, but I knew a lost cause when I saw one.


    The Director¡¯s Wing was more suite than hospital room. It had a private lounge, a kitchen, and a dining nook. More than enough space to live in.


    Ashton had Dominic bring up everythingptops, files, chargers, two phones, and something that looked suspiciously like apact espresso machine.


    He set up shop in the lounge.


    Iy in bed, bored out of my skull.


    For an hour, I scrolled through short videos until they all blurred into one long, idiotic loop. My thumb ached, my eyes went dry. I dropped the phone.


    There were a fewundry bags on a rack near the bed. Some held his things, some mine.


    I pulled out a set of clothes, including underwear, silently praying it was Carmen the female housekeeper who packed them and not Geoffrey.


    In the bathroom, I slipped on a tank top and shorts underneath so I wouldn¡¯t sh anyone through the gown¡¯s rear slit.


    Ashton was on a video call in the lounge, sharp Frenching fast, face drawn tight as he frowned at charts on the screen.


    I slipped out while he was mid-sentence, hospital slippers noiseless on the carpeted floor.


    I needed air.


    I wandered the corridor like a bored inmate out on parole. Most of the doors were closed. There was no one else except an asional passing nurse who gave me a friendly nod but didn¡¯t stop me.


    Looking out the window, I decided to venture downstairs. I figured a ce like this had to have a garden somewhere.


    I didn¡¯t get far.


    Two floors down, I stopped.


    Something had caught my eye.


    Or rather, someone.

 Chapter 99 - 100 Pregnant

    <h4>Chapter 99: Chapter 100 Pregnant</h4>


    Rhys Granger was walking ahead of me, head down, flipping through a stack of paper that had the hospital¡¯s logo on it.


    He had his back to me, but I¡¯d have recognised thatnky frame and slightly hunched shoulders anywhere.


    Right next to him was Catherine.


    She sounded chipper. ¡®I told you. It¡¯s positive, right? I¡¯m definitely pregnant! The doctor confirmed it.¡¯


    I nced at the signpost near the stairwell door. This was the obstetrics and gynaecology floor.


    My feet carried me forward before I¡¯d even decided to follow; I smelled drama.


    The hallway wasn¡¯t crowded, but it was busy enough that I could blend in, trailing after them without being noticed.


    Catherine sounded thrilled. Rhys didn¡¯t.


    He kept turning the pages like he either didn¡¯t understand the medical jargon or didn¡¯t want to. ¡®How the hell did this happen? I used protection every time!¡¯


    A few heads turned at that¡ªmost people on this floor were all happy tears and heartbeat scans. Rhys was clearly not on-brand.


    Catherine noticed, too. Her voice slipped into a pout. ¡®Nothing¡¯s one hundred per cent. They say condoms only work, like, ny per cent of the time.¡¯


    Rhys folded the test results and shoved them into his coat pocket. ¡®Doc said your bleeding and cramping are concerning. Suggested a threatened miscarriage.¡¯


    It was hard to tell whether he sounded irritated or relieved.


    ¡®He rmends admission for monitoring.¡¯


    Catherine protested, ¡®I don¡¯t want to stay in the hospital. I already gave up the trip to France. I don¡¯t want to be cooped up in a sickroom for months.¡¯


    ¡®Then you want to risk losing the baby?¡¯ Rhys snapped.


    That shut her up.


    They kept walking.


    By this point, I¡¯d forgotten all about the garden. This was far better entertainment.


    ¡®Will you stay with me?¡¯ Catherine asked, voice smaller now.


    ¡®I¡¯ll visit when I can.¡¯


    ¡®But I¡¯ll be lonely.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll hire a nurse.¡¯


    ¡®Fine.¡¯


    She clearly wasn¡¯t fine. Her voice dipped at the end, as if hoping he¡¯d change his mind and offer to stay.


    He didn¡¯t.


    Rhys slowed. ¡®Cathy.¡¯


    ¡®Hmm?¡¯


    ¡®Are you sure you want to keep the baby?¡¯


    Her voice went sharp. ¡®What do you mean, ¡°if I want to keep the baby¡±? Of course I do! I¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Lower your voice,¡¯ Rhys hissed.


    Catherine wasn¡¯t backing down. ¡®Doctor said if I get an abortion now, it¡¯ll make it harder for me to have childrenter. Is that what you want?¡¯


    Rhys stopped, ran a hand through his hair, and let out a loud exhale. ¡®No.¡¯


    ¡®Then we¡¯re keeping the baby. End of discussion.¡¯


    ¡®I just...¡¯


    She took his arm and yanked him over to the admission desk, where she beamed at the nurse. ¡®Hi, we¡¯d like to check in.¡¯


    She fished the test results out of his coat and handed them over. ¡®I¡¯d like a private room¡ªsingle, preferably en suite. And TV. Wi-Fi. I hear some of your rooms offer a minibar?¡¯


    The nurse smiled. ¡®Of course, miss. Our Director¡¯s Wing includes all that, plus premium bedding, daily housekeeping, a carte room service, aromatherapy options, and personal concierge ess.¡¯


    Catherine turned to Rhys, eyes gleaming. ¡®Rhys! I want the Director¡¯s Wing.¡¯


    Rhys nced at the price list. ¡®No.¡¯


    ¡®But I¡¯ve never stayed in one!¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re pregnant, not dying. You don¡¯t need that level of care.¡¯


    ¡®You think I don¡¯t deserve that level of care?¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s not what I meant,¡¯ Rhys muttered, rubbing his temple. ¡®I¡¯m just saying it¡¯s not necessary.¡¯


    ¡®I think it is.¡¯


    Rhys scowled. ¡®The tickets to France, the cruises, the hotel bookings¡ªnone of it was refundable. I¡¯ve already lost close to eighty grand because you didn¡¯t want to go, and now¡ª¡¯


    ¡®I didn¡¯t say I didn¡¯t want to go! I was bleeding and cramping¡ªhow could I go?¡¯


    Her voice turned soft and wounded. ¡®I¡¯d have thought you¡¯d understand. Are you ming me?¡¯


    Even from where I was standing¡ªhiding behind a giant potted fern¡ªI could hear Rhys¡¯s exhausted sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡®No, I¡¯m not ming you. I¡¯m just saying¡ª¡¯


    Catherine slid her arm further through his. ¡®The doctor said I need rest and quiet. I¡¯m only thinking about the baby. Your baby. Doesn¡¯t that matter to you?¡¯


    ¡®Of course it does,¡¯ he mumbled. ¡®But I¡¯m not sure staying here¡¯s such a good idea. My parents use this hospital. Maybe we should go somewhere else. What if we run into¡ª?¡¯


    He started scanning the corridor.


    And that¡¯s when he saw me.


    His eyes bulged like he¡¯d just spotted a ghost.


    ¡®Busted,¡¯ I muttered, stepping out from behind the fern like I had every right to be there.


    He looked at Catherine, who was still chatting to the nurse about the rooms, then back at me, then at her again.


    He froze. Shoulders stiffened, mouth slightly ajar, tie suddenly too tight at the neck.


    His face drained. He knew I knew.


    ¡®Rhys,e on, they¡¯re giving us a tour of¡ª¡¯ Catherine turned mid-sentence, caught sight of me, and immediately clutched Rhys¡¯s arm tighter like she thought I might snatch him away.


    ¡®What are you doing here?¡¯


    ¡®What the hell are you doing here?¡¯


    They said it in unison.


    ¡®Were you spying on us?¡¯ Catherine added.


    ¡®No,¡¯ I said.


    ¡®Really? What a weird coincidence.¡¯ Catherine patted her still-t stomach like she was trying to get me to take a photo. ¡®So you just happened to be at the same hospital, on the same floor, on the same day as us, right when we came to confirm the pregnancy?¡¯ She enunciated thest word slowly. ¡®Who tipped you off? Mum? No, no way she¡¯s still talking to you. Dad? I¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Cathy!¡¯ Rhys snapped, face darkening. ¡®I thought we agreed not to tell anyone until¡ª¡¯


    She shrugged. ¡®She already knows, doesn¡¯t she? She saw us.¡¯


    ¡®Congrats,¡¯ I said tly. ¡®I wasn¡¯t nning to eavesdrop. I just happened to pass by.¡¯


    Rhys dragged a hand down his face, then yanked at his tie like it had shrunk two sizes. ¡®You shouldn¡¯t eavesdrop like that.¡¯


    ¡®I just told you I wasn¡¯t. And this is a public corridor. If you wanted it kept secret, maybe don¡¯t broadcast your conversation at full volume. Just a thought.¡¯


    The nurse at the desk snickered.


    Rhys opened his mouth for aeback, found nothing, then blinked at me like he¡¯d only just noticed my outfit.


    ¡®Wait¡ªyou¡¯re a patient? What for?¡¯

 Chapter 100 - 101 Wedding

    <h4>Chapter 100: Chapter 101 Wedding</h4>


    ¡®None of your business,¡¯ I said, already turning away now that the show was over.


    Rhys barked, ¡®Stop! I¡¯m not done talking to you.¡¯


    ¡®But I am.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t you have something to say?¡¯


    ¡®Like what?¡¯


    Rhys was scrutinising my face like he was looking for a crack in the wall. ¡®Cathy¡¯s pregnant.¡¯


    I pointed at my ear. ¡®I know. I heard. Not deaf.¡¯


    ¡®We¡¯re getting married.¡¯


    Catherine, who¡¯d been busy scowling at me, snapped her head towards him.


    Her jaw dropped. Her eyes went wide, suddenly so bright they outshone the lights overhead.


    ¡®Good for you,¡¯ I said. ¡®Guess that means wedding bells. Do us both a favour and leave me off the guest list.¡¯


    ¡®Rhys! I¡ª¡¯ Catherine beamed. She looked radiant. Maybe it was the pregnancy, maybe it was his love¡ªwho could tell.


    ¡®Shush.¡¯ Rhys disentangled her arm from his and stepped up to me. ¡®You don¡¯t want toe to our wedding?¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯


    ¡®Why not? You afraid it¡¯s going to be awkward?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah, I¡¯m afraid there won¡¯t be enough seats for all your ex.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re not just one of my ex. You¡¯re Cathy¡¯s sister, which means we¡¯ll be family.¡¯


    It took a heroic effort not to gag.


    Did he hear himself? Or was it some kind of honour to brag that he used to sleep with his sister-inw? Ugh.


    ¡®I¡¯m happy for you,¡¯ I said dryly, though my tone was anything but. ¡®Hope you two go the distance, because once this one tanks, there aren¡¯t enough single women left in Skyline City for you to date. Not unless you start recycling.¡¯


    His brows drew together. The corners of his mouth pulled down. He shifted his shoulders like his jacket had suddenly stiffened into cardboard.


    ¡®Is that all?¡¯ I nced at my non-existent watch. ¡®I¡¯ve got stuff to do, so...¡¯


    ¡®Just a moment.¡¯


    Catherine¡¯s eyes kept ping-ponging between me and Rhys¡ªgloating at me one second, beaming lovingly at him the next. She was like a human traffic light with only two colours.


    Rhys looked over my shoulder. ¡®You¡¯re here alone?¡¯


    I shrugged. ¡®Seems that way. But, once again, none of your business.¡¯


    If he¡¯d shown half this interest in me back when we were dating, my heart might have done somersaults.


    Now? Nothing.


    Catherine chimed in, ¡®That¡¯s depressing. No one came with you? You¡¯re here all by yourself?¡¯


    ¡®What about your husband?¡¯ Rhys spat thest word like it had an aftertaste. There was no ¡®s¡¯ in it, yet he still managed to hiss.


    ¡®He¡¯s busy.¡¯ Ruling his business empire from two floors up.


    ¡®I see.¡¯ Rhys¡¯s tone lightened, as if pleased. ¡®So that¡¯s the kind of man you picked. Can¡¯t even bother showing up for a hospital visit.¡¯


    I let out a shortugh. ¡®As if you ever came with me. Name one time.¡¯


    That shut him up.


    The few times I¡¯d had a fever and called, he¡¯d said I was faking it for attention and hung up.


    I learned not to bother after the second time.


    Catherine cut in, clearly sensing we were drifting into dangerous nostalgia. ¡®Don¡¯t you have somewhere to be? We¡¯ve got a room tour scheduled. Can¡¯t stand around all day talking.¡¯


    Rhys shook off her arm and eyed me again¡ªmy outfit, my hands¡ªand something flickered in his expression. A smug glint.


    ¡®Mum told me you showed her a wedding certificate. Said it looked legit. But I knew it was fake.¡¯


    ¡®Oh? Because you¡¯re such an expert in document forgery?¡¯


    ¡®Because you¡¯re not wearing a wedding ring,¡¯ he announced his big discovery. ¡®If you¡¯re really married, and to a man like Ashton Laurent, why didn¡¯t he give you a ring?¡¯


    He did.


    I wore it to Edouard Laurent¡¯s party as part of the charade.


    But somewhere between falling into the pool, getting dragged out, and the mad dash to the hospital, it must¡¯ve slipped off.


    Mental note: Ask Ashton about itter.


    ¡®No clevereback?¡¯ Rhys tilted his chin. ¡®I don¡¯t know what you did to rope Ashton in, but it won¡¯t hold. Not forever.¡¯


    Catherine looked more than ready to cut the conversation short. She tugged at Rhys¡¯s sleeve again. He ignored her.


    ¡®If you¡¯ve really got Ashton under control, I¡¯ll eat my shoes. You two have been married how long, and no one¡¯s seen a single photo, no statement, no anything. You ask me, you got lucky pulling that bluff, but it¡¯s not going tost. Once whatever hold you have over him wears off, he¡¯lle after you¡ªhard.¡¯


    ¡®What kind of hold do you imagine I have over him? Nude selfies?¡¯ I looked down my nose at Rhys, which was hard to do considering he had the height advantage. ¡®You think he¡¯s the type to cave to ckmail?¡¯


    ¡®Still, you¡¯re supposedly married and he¡¯s not even here,¡¯ Catherine backed up her boyfriend. ¡®You never brought him home. He hasn¡¯t even met Mum and Dad. No one knows you two are married.¡¯


    No one? Try the four hundred guests at Edouard Laurent¡¯s house.


    I was about to point that out, then stopped.


    Why was I even engaging in this argument with the sister I couldn¡¯t stand and the ex I¡¯d rather see under a bus?


    I shook my head. ¡®Like I said: none of your business. Stay out of my life, and I¡¯ll stay out of yours.¡¯


    ¡®What¡¯s the matter? Running off now that we¡¯ve seen through your lie?¡¯ Rhys¡¯s grin was obnoxious. Then he softened his voice into something mock-sympathetic. ¡®I get it, Mira. You¡¯re trying to save face. You don¡¯t have to fake a marriage just because Cathy and I¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Save what face?¡¯


    ¡®Just because Cathy and I are getting married doesn¡¯t mean you need to conjure up some fake husband. It¡¯s not a contest.¡¯


    ¡®Fake? I wasn¡¯t aware I was fake.¡¯


    We all turned.

 Chapter 101 - 102 Publicity, the Wrong Kind

    <h4>Chapter 101: Chapter 102 Publicity, the Wrong Kind</h4>


    Ashton walked down the hallway.


    Loose ck button-down, matching trousers, sleeves pushed up to the elbow.


    Nothing shy, but you couldn¡¯t miss him.


    He had a beige cashmere wrap tossed over one arm, which he draped over my shoulders.


    Then he took my hands and rubbed them between his palms. His fingers were warm.


    ¡®You¡¯re freezing. Why didn¡¯t you wear something warmer?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m fine.¡¯ I pulled the wrap closer and gave him a quick smile. ¡®Just wanted to get some air.¡¯


    ¡®Doctor ordered bed rest. Come on.¡¯


    ¡®Alright.¡¯ I took his offered arm.


    ¡®Hey!¡¯ Rhys, who¡¯d been ignored until now, finally piped up.


    Ashton spared him a nce.


    Rhys backed up half a step, instinctively.


    Ashton said, t: ¡®If I hear you running your mouth about me or my wife again, you won¡¯t just be spending three days in holding.¡¯


    Rhys tried to put up a brave front. ¡®I didn¡¯t say anything.¡¯


    ¡®Was it or wasn¡¯t it you who called me ¡°fake¡± a moment ago?¡¯ Ashton jogged his memory. ¡®Actions have consequences. So do words. You¡¯ve already got a police record. Do you want to add to it?¡¯


    Rhys flinched. His shoulders jerked.


    He was probably thinking about what happened thest time he crossed swords with Ashton.


    ¡®Did you hear me?¡¯ Ashton asked.


    Rhys didn¡¯t want to answer. I could see it in the way his eyelids twitched and his jaw tightened.


    But Ashton stared straight at him, and so far, I¡¯d yet to meet someone who could hold out under that stare of his for longer than a minute¡ªself included.


    Rhys gave in.


    ¡®Got it,¡¯ he muttered.


    ¡®Good.¡¯ Ashton turned. ¡®Come on. Let¡¯s go.¡¯


    I beamed at him. ¡®Okay.¡¯


    My phone pinged with a sharp ding. I checked the notification, nced up, grinned at Rhys.


    ¡®Well, would you look at that. Something nice for once.¡¯


    Rhys frowned. ¡®What?¡¯


    I held up my phone. ¡®Just got a message from mywyer. Court¡¯s epted the case. You¡¯ll be getting your summons soon. Might want to check your mailbox.¡¯


    ¡®What summons? Whatwyer?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯ll know soon enough.¡¯


    Rhys looked like he wanted to stop me to ask for more, but one look at Ashton and he backed off.


    Behind us, I heard Catherine asking Rhys, ¡®Rhys, darling, I¡¯m so happy! So when¡¯s the wedding?¡¯


    ¡®What wedding?¡¯


    ¡®You said you were gonna marry me.¡¯


    ¡®When the fuck did I say that?¡¯


    ¡®Just now. In the hallway. You said...¡¯


    The lift door closed.


    ¡®Bored?¡¯ Ashton asked.


    ¡®Sort of. I came out for some air and ran into them in the hallway,¡¯ I exined. Didn¡¯t want him thinking I was deliberately seeking Rhys out. ¡®Can I be discharged?¡¯


    ¡®Doctor rmends staying a couple more days, for observation.¡¯


    ¡®I feel fine.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s just in case.¡¯ His tone was soft, but there was an edge of irrefutability to it.


    I shrugged. ¡®Fine. Could you ask Geoffrey to bring me my tablet? The one with the MatrixGold icon on the screen.¡¯


    ¡®Sure.¡¯


    That seemed to sum up all avable topics of conversation.


    Silencested till I was back in bed, resuming my role of the invalid.


    Ashton asked, ¡®Catherine¡¯s pregnant?¡¯


    ¡®You heard?¡¯ I was amazed. ¡®You must have the hearing of a bat if you caught that from two floors up.¡¯


    His lips twitched. ¡®I glimpsed the pregnancy report in her hand. She wasn¡¯t exactly trying to hide it.¡¯


    I grinned. ¡®Yeah, she is.¡¯


    ¡®Rhys doesn¡¯t look too thrilled.¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s not.¡¯ I added, ¡®But they are getting married. At least, that¡¯s what Rhys said. Even wanted to invite me to the wedding.¡¯


    ¡®And you said...¡¯


    ¡®No, of course. I don¡¯t want to waste money on the gift, nor the time, which could be more productively spent elsewhere, like watching paint dry.¡¯


    Ashton looked thoughtful.


    ¡®What?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®Nothing.¡¯


    I squinted at him, sceptical.


    I couldn¡¯t im to understand the man inside out based on our month-long acquaintanceship, but I¡¯d be familiar with a certain glint in his eyes that warned of a scheme afoot.


    And I wasn¡¯t wrong.


    That evening, Yvaine came to visit.


    She brought flowers, snacks, and a Trenta-sized serving of gossip.


    ¡®Rhys made it to the financial news.¡¯


    ¡®What? How¡¯d that happen?¡¯ I¡¯d always thought if Rhys ever appeared in the news, it¡¯d be the society pages¡ªor, fingers crossed, the police ¡®wanted¡¯ list.


    Yvaine tapped on her tablet and spun the screen towards me.


    The headline grabbed my attention:


    [Granger Development Group heir knocks up socialite, still no wedding in sight]


    Apparently, I wasn¡¯t the only one who ran into Rhys and Catherine at the hospital.


    Someone else, armed with a high-def camera, had captured the scene faithfully.


    No sound, of course, but their bodynguage told the story.


    That, plus the pregnancy report Catherine was waving around like a g, backed up the headline.


    ¡®Unnamed sources¡¯ also confirmed that there was no sign of an engagement between Rhys and histest pregnant girlfriend, let alone a wedding.


    The article wrapped with a thinly veiled but strongly worded jab at Rhys¡¯s inability to ¡®step up¡¯, raising concerns about his suitability to helm such argepany.


    ¡®¡°After all, if he can¡¯t even do right by the woman he supposedly loves, what about the thousands of GDG employees counting on him as CEO and the public investors who rely on his leadership?¡±¡¯


    Yvaine read the final paragraph in a mock-serious TV anchor voice, then chuckled. ¡®I bet his dad¡¯s feeling real smug about that decision to hand over the reins to Rhys now.¡¯


    ¡®I wonder who leaked the story,¡¯ I mused.


    ¡®I kinda thought it was you.¡¯


    ¡®Why me?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re in the same hospital.¡¯


    ¡®I happened to leave my telephoto lens at home. Even if I took the pics, I wouldn¡¯t know a reporter to leak them to.¡¯


    ¡®H¡¯m.¡¯ Yvaine gave the puzzle two seconds¡¯ thought and gave it up. ¡®Doesn¡¯t matter who did it. Whoever it was clearly hates Rhys¡¯s or Catherine¡¯s guts. That¡¯s good enough for me.¡¯


    By morning, finance blogs had picked up the story. Hashtags were trending.


    Even the city¡¯s serious daily ran a brief mention.


    Granger Development Group was a big name, after all, and shareholders were foaming at the mouth.


    ¡®Was it you?¡¯ I asked Ashton as he brought breakfast, holding up the news.


    ¡®Hospital hallway¡¯s a public ce. Plenty of peoplee and go. Anyone could¡¯ve taken the photos.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s an evasive answer.¡¯


    He looked straight at me. ¡®Would you want it to be me?¡¯


    I gave it a moment¡¯s thought, then shrugged. ¡®Doesn¡¯t really matter to me.¡¯


    After all, it had nothing to do with me.


    Or so I thought.

 Chapter 102 - 103 New Spin

    <h4>Chapter 102: Chapter 103 New Spin</h4>


    I was flicking through crap cable channels when a nurse came in.


    ¡®Mrs Laurent, there¡¯s a man outside who wants to see you.¡¯


    I sat up. ¡®Did he give a name?¡¯


    ¡®A Rhys Granger.¡¯


    I sat back down. ¡®I¡¯m not receiving visitors.¡¯


    ¡®Noted.¡¯


    She came back a minuteter. ¡®He says he has urgent business to discuss and refuses to leave.¡¯


    ¡®Call security.¡¯


    ¡®Got it, Mrs Laurent.¡¯


    Two hourster, my phone lit up with Louisa Granger¡¯s name.


    I almost didn¡¯t answer. I should¡¯ve followed that instinct.


    Sheunched into it before I even said hello.


    Once I heard enough to get the gist, I cut her off, ¡®Aunt Louisa, it wasn¡¯t me. I didn¡¯t take those photos. And I certainly didn¡¯t leak the news.¡¯


    ¡®I know, I trust you, it¡¯s just that... Rhys says you were the only one he ran into at the hospital.¡¯


    I borrowed Ashton¡¯s line. ¡®It¡¯s a public ce. Plenty of peoplee and go. And Rhys and Catherine were talking in a hallway. I saw them. So did the nurse. So did at least two dozen other people walking by at the time.¡¯


    Louisa let out a long, resigned sigh. ¡®I see.¡¯ Then shepsed into silence.


    I sensed her hesitation. ¡®Is there something else?¡¯


    ¡®The story... about Catherine¡¯s pregnancy, is it... is it true?¡¯ Her voice was tight, like she didn¡¯t want to hear the answer.


    I paused, then said, ¡®Yes.¡¯


    The truth would get out eventually anyway.


    Louisa went quiet again. I heard her breathing shift, shorter and shallower.


    I¡¯d heard that sound before. Her stress-breathing.


    ¡®Please don¡¯t work yourself up over this again,¡¯ I cautioned. ¡®You¡¯ve already ended up in hospital once because of Rhys-rted nonsense.¡¯


    ¡®Alright,¡¯ she said, though it didn¡¯t sound like the end of it. ¡®Mirabelle, are you absolutely sure this has nothing to do with you? I know you¡¯re upset with Rhys, but if this spins out of control, thepany¡¯s stock could tank.¡¯


    That stopped me. I hadn¡¯t expected her to throw me under the same bus Rhys was driving.


    ¡®It really has nothing to do with me, I¡ª¡¯


    Ashton took the phone right out of my hand.


    ¡®Hello. Ashton Laurent speaking. My wife was with me all day yesterday. She hasn¡¯t spoken to a single reporter. I suggest you stop slinging baseless usations at her, or we¡¯ll consider legal action for defamation.¡¯


    He hung up.


    I looked at him. He handed the phone back.


    ¡®Are you mad?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®Not at you. I just don¡¯t like people using you like that.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t either. Can¡¯t believe Aunt Louisa actually thought I¡¯d stoop that low.¡¯


    Turns out, she wasn¡¯t the only one.


    The story didn¡¯t die after the usual 24-hour cycle. New spins started cropping up.


    ¡®Unnamed sources¡¯ imed Rhys¡¯s ex was behind it all.


    The motives varied. Some said she wanted him back, others said it was revenge.


    Either way, the ex was the viin.


    ¡®What the actual fuck is this?¡¯ Yvaine was furious. ¡®I thought the person who leaked the story hated Rhys. Why is all the heat on you now?¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t think the person who leaked the original story and the one behind this are the same,¡¯ I pointed out.


    The former was Ashton. If not, I¡¯d eat my ne.


    As for thetter, I had a fairly solid guess.


    Yvaine sat cross-legged on the bed and started typing.


    [You¡¯re all being yed.]


    [From what I know, Rhys¡¯s ex hasn¡¯t had contact with him in ages. Why would she pull a stunt like this to win him back?]


    [Why is it always the woman getting torn apart? Drag him for once.]


    She hit ¡®post¡¯.


    Nothing. Not a single like. Not even a pity emoji.


    Yvaine swore.


    Then she jumped up. ¡®I¡¯ll go find Rhys and beat the crap out of him. Bet he¡¯s the one who engineered the new spin.¡¯


    A woman of action, she was gone before I could say a word.


    I returned to the post. The tone didn¡¯t sound like Rhys. It was more... catty.


    Ashton plucked the phone from my hands.


    ¡®You shouldn¡¯t be stressing about things like this. Let me deal with the trolls.¡¯


    ¡®But it¡¯s my phone.¡¯


    ¡®Confiscated till further notice.¡¯


    ¡®Fine. I¡¯ll just use my tablet.¡¯


    He paused. ¡®Thanks for the reminder.¡¯


    A minuteter, I was phone-less and tablet-less.


    All I had left was the TV remote.


    A nurse came in to change the IV fluids.


    ¡®Can I borrow your phone?¡¯ I asked.


    She blinked but handed it over. ¡®Sure.¡¯


    ¡®Thank you.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t find what I was looking for.


    It had only been thirty minutes, if that, but the inte had been scrubbed clean.


    Every article, post, hashtag, and headline about ¡®Rhys Granger¡¯s Revengeful Ex¡¯ was gone.


    I didn¡¯t bother asking Ashton; He¡¯d just give me the same non-answer as before.


    Yvaine returned with a stunned look on her face.


    ¡®The news is gone.¡¯


    I nodded. ¡®I know.¡¯


    She frowned. ¡®I called you. No reply.¡¯


    ¡®My phone¡¯s been... confiscated.¡¯


    ¡®By whom?¡¯ Then she clocked it. Her frown curled into a teasing grin. ¡®The hubby, eh?¡¯


    I didn¡¯t answer. She already knew.


    Yvaine climbed into bed beside me. ¡®So. How¡¯s married life treating you?¡¯


    I gestured vaguely around the room. ¡®Feels like prison.¡¯


    ¡®Doc says you need peace and quiet. And this is a nice ce.¡¯


    ¡®It is. But you know I hate hospitals.¡¯


    ¡®True. Still, I¡¯m with your shiny new husband on this one. If you¡¯d been discharged, the Grangers would¡¯ve harassed you non-stop.¡¯ Yvaine pulled a face. ¡®I just ran into Rotten Rhys. He¡¯s camped outside.¡¯


    I frowned. ¡®I thought hospital security threw him out.¡¯


    ¡®They did. He¡¯s not technically inside. He¡¯s loitering on the road leading up to the entrance. Tried to way me. Wanted me to take him to you. I flipped him off.¡¯


    I gave her a thumbs up.


    She didn¡¯t notice, too busy staring at her screen. ¡®Rhys and Catherine are getting married.¡¯


    ¡®For real?¡¯


    ¡®The Grangers just released a press statement.¡¯

 Chapter 103 - 104 Terrifying Efficiency

    <h4>Chapter 103: Chapter 104 Terrifying Efficiency</h4>


    Two days after I was discharged, the Grangers sent out wedding invitations.


    Rhys and Catherine were official.


    I scrolled past the announcement without blinking, then got back to work.


    Well, another kind of work.


    Most of my week had been swallowed by meetings withwyers, tangled email threads, and too many evidence lists to count.


    I¡¯d just spent thest forty-eight hours knee-deep in call logs and dusty school records, trying to build a case against Isobel Brooke.


    Today¡¯s meeting was in a caf¨¦ off West 18th.


    Across from me sat Hannah Wu, LGH¡¯s legal rep.


    Glossy ck loafers. Navy pinstripe suit, seams crisp. Lipstick the colour of dried blood. Nails short, square, painted like a healing bruise.


    She turned her tablet around and tapped the screen.


    ¡®Isobel¡¯s been questioned,¡¯ she said. ¡®But the police don¡¯t have enough to detain her on the charges we¡¯re pursuing. Right now, it¡¯s just preliminary statements. No grounds for prosecution yet. But with additional witness testimony, that could change.¡¯


    I nodded. That tracked.


    ¡®I might have someone. Priya Sharma. Isobel broke her leg and burned her throat with boiling water. Her vocal cords never healed properly. Her family took hush money and moved away. I¡¯ve kept in touch, sent her money now and then. I don¡¯t know if she¡¯ll testify, but it¡¯s worth asking.¡¯


    Beside her, Hannah¡¯s paralegal jotted down the name.


    ¡®That¡¯s exactly what we need. Send me her contact details. We¡¯ll take it from there.¡¯


    ¡®Would it be better if I called her first,id the groundwork?¡¯


    ¡®That would help, yes. Given the prior settlement, there¡¯s likely a confidentiality use in ce. I¡¯ll need to get a copy from her, then we can assess whether it¡¯s enforceable and advise her ordingly. She may be more responsive once she understands her legal options.¡¯


    I called Priya during lunch.


    She was cautious but agreed to speak with Hannah.


    Then I started texting old ssmates.


    The more witnesses we had, the better our odds.


    ***


    I was halfway through a cup of tea when my phone buzzed.


    ¡®Mirabelle Vance speaking.¡¯


    ¡®Mrs Laurent, it¡¯s Hannah.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯ve convinced Priya already? That¡¯s fast work.¡¯ I checked the time. ¡®It¡¯s barely been four hours.¡¯


    ¡®We¡¯re still in talks. This is about the defendant.¡¯


    I loved how she used that word to refer to Isobel. ¡®Go on.¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯s been formally charged with assault asioning actual bodily harm. The arraignment is set for tomorrow.¡¯


    ¡®I see. Do I need to show up? As the intiff or something?¡¯


    ¡®This is a criminal case. The Deputy District Attorney represents the state. You¡¯re not the intiff. But you may be called as a witness.¡¯


    ¡®Got it. And the school stuff?¡¯


    ¡®Still under review. The officers did question her again, but nothing¡¯s been filed yet.¡¯


    ¡®Think she¡¯ll get bail?¡¯


    ¡®Normally, yes. But in this case, I doubt it.¡¯


    ¡®Why?¡¯


    Hannah paused, like she was weighing her words.


    ¡®Her father, Dashiell Brooke, tried to reach out to Mr Laurent.¡¯


    I sat up. ¡®What?¡¯


    ¡®He actually tried you first, unsessfully.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah, I¡¯ve been screening my calls.¡¯


    ¡®He may have contacted your parents, too, though I can¡¯t confirm that. Eventually, he reached LGH. Asked for a meeting. He wanted to discuss a private settlement, some kind of conciliation. From what I gather, hispany¡¯s under serious financial pressure. Cancelled orders, elerated loan repayment schedules. He seemed to believe LGH was involved.¡¯


    ¡®Was he right to believe that?¡¯


    Hannah, very much awyer, didn¡¯t answer that.


    I moved on. ¡®Did Ashton take the meeting?¡¯


    ¡®He declined. He sent Mr Everett and me instead.¡¯


    I exhaled. ¡®And?¡¯


    ¡®We made our position clear: it¡¯s either the girl or thepany. He can¡¯t keep both.¡¯


    I let out a lowugh. ¡®How long did he take?¡¯


    ¡®Less than a minute. He chose thepany.¡¯


    ¡®Figures. So that¡¯s why you said bail¡¯s unlikely.¡¯


    ¡®Exactly. Mr Brooke has already lost two major projects this week. Ten more clients have pulled out. Long-term contracts. He knows which way the wind¡¯s blowing.¡¯


    ¡®Thanks for the update.¡¯


    ¡®Of course. Let us know if anything changes on your end.¡¯


    She hung up.


    I stared at the screen.


    LGH¡¯s legal team was terrifyingly efficient.


    If the rest of thepany ran that tightly, no wonder Edouard Laurent skipped over his son and handed Ashton the reins.


    ¡®I should probably learn from the man,¡¯ I muttered.


    I drained the cup, stretched, then stood.


    Time to get back to work.


    Real work this time.


    Back at Nyx Collective, the office was buzzing.


    The Venice Film Festival had just kicked off.


    Eliza ck had hit the red carpet that afternoon in Italy, which meant here in Skyline, photos were dropping right as everyone headed for lunch.


    She wore a floor-length gold strapless gown with Violet Lin¡¯s set.


    It screamed big-budget makeover.


    Not my taste, but it photographed well.


    Violet stared at her screen like she was trying to will herself into it. Both hands on her phone, knuckles pale.


    ¡®God, the ne looks incredible. It really suits Eliza¡¯s face shape,¡¯ she said, loud enough for the entire floor.


    She nced at me while saying it.


    Not nced¡ªred. Eyes smug. Nostrils red.


    While everyone else watched the livestream, Violet refreshed Instagram and X every three seconds.


    She¡¯d been crowing for weeks that Eliza would tag her directly. Personal ount. Name in lights.


    Didn¡¯t happen.


    Instead, Eliza¡¯s PR team posted a generic press roundup.


    Everyone involved got a tag¡ªhair, makeup, stylist, designer, jewellery. All lumped into one caption.


    It didn¡¯t matter. Violet still looked like she might cry from joy anyway.


    Notifications kept pinging, her follower count started climbing.


    She reposted the PR team¡¯s post immediately, added a caption praising Eliza¡¯s ¡®elegance¡¯ and how ¡®she made anything look ssy¡¯.


    Within a matter of minutes, paid shills had pushed ¡®Eliza ck¡¯s personal jewellery designer¡¯ onto trending tags.


    Colleagues congratted her. A few even pped.


    Violet couldn¡¯t stop grinning.


    Then she looked over at me.


    I was at my desk, coffee going cold, the livestream paused on a close-up of Eliza¡¯s ne. I¡¯d zoomed in.


    Violet sashayed over, nted a hip on my desk. ¡®Ha. You couldn¡¯t stop staring at it the other day either. Jealous? Don¡¯t be. If you want tips, just ask. I don¡¯t mind helping you out.¡¯


    I ignored her and kept my eyes on the screen.


    I didn¡¯t just zoom in on the ne. I checked the bangle, the ring, the earrings, everything


    The cuts, the sps, the cement of the stones.


    I had definitely seen them before.


    And they didn¡¯te from Violet.

 Chapter 104 - 105 When S Hit the Fan

    <h4>Chapter 104: Chapter 105 When S Hit the Fan</h4>


    Violet hadn¡¯t designed them.


    She¡¯d copied every piece.


    Not ¡®borrowed¡¯, not ¡®inspired¡¯¡ªstraight-up copy-pasted.


    The original was from a niche brand based in Antwerp, called Roux & Lune.


    They didn¡¯t have much of a social media presence and managed barely two, three dozen sales a year.


    Their stuff wasn¡¯t trending. Their designer didn¡¯t even show her face.


    The business looked more like a pet project for some rich girl with too much time and daddy¡¯s money.


    But during uni, my design professor had mentioned the brand in passing.


    I¡¯d looked them up that night and bookmarked the whole site.


    And I¡¯d followed their updates ever since.


    I ced the livestream screenshots of Eliza ck side by side with Roux & Lune¡¯s catalogue photos.


    Not one alteration. Violet hadn¡¯t even bothered to change the sp.


    I frowned and turned to her.


    She was still smirking, a hip nted smugly on the edge of my desk, looking down at me through her thickshes.


    ¡®Still staring? Babe, I hate to break it to you, but that¡¯s not your name in the post. Eliza picked me, ME. Well, better luck next time.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s all you have to say for yourself?¡¯


    ¡®What else were you expecting?¡¯ She pretended to reflect, then said, ¡®Oh, right, I do have one more thing to say. You know there¡¯s only one spot for thepetition next month, right? I¡¯d say it¡¯s mine. Not that you ever had a chance.¡¯


    She chuckled and swiped at her phone again. ¡®Want me to read out a few of thements people left under the post? Some of them are actually pretty funny.¡¯


    I shook my head. ¡®You¡¯ve got some fucking nerve.¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯ Violet blinked, face scrunching. ¡®Hey, don¡¯t swear at me just because you¡¯re jealous. I wasn¡¯t expecting a hug from you, but at least show some gratitude. Me bing famous means Nyx is famous now, and that¡¯s good for everyone here, including you.¡¯


    I lowered my voice. ¡®Yeah, and if shit hits the fan, you¡¯ll drag everyone down with you, including me.¡¯


    Her brow furrowed. ¡®What are you talking about? What do you mean drag Nyx down? Go check thements. Everyone¡¯s tagging thepany with heart emojis. Last time Eliza wore your piece, she got med for looking cheap. Now she¡¯s got my set on and people are saying she¡¯s finally stepped it up. Nyx should be bloody thanking me. Even Vanna¡¯s probably thinking of sending flowers.¡¯


    I¡¯d seen thements. Most of them were positive.


    A few fans were even saying Eliza¡¯s loyalty to Nyx made her ¡®rtable¡¯ now. Like sticking with the same brand proved she had depth.


    There were all sorts of photos of her on the carpet, nose slightly up, jaw set, like she knew the cameras were going to dissect every damn detail.


    The fans loved it. They ate it up.


    But the louder the cheering got, the worse the crash would be.


    Bored of gloating to me, Violet straightened. ¡®Well, I¡¯m off now. Vanna¡¯s taking me to lunch. Guess she¡¯d like to talk about a promotion. Or a bonus. Who knows? I¡¯ll keep you posted.¡¯


    I yanked her shoulder hard, forcing her to spin around.


    ¡®Ow! What is wrong with you?¡¯ She jerked her shoulder out of my grasp.


    I looked her dead in the eye. ¡®You know exactly where you got that design. And you handed it off to an actress with a hundred cameras aimed at her face, with millions of people watching. You didn¡¯t even tweak a single curve. You really thought no one would notice?¡¯


    Confusion registered on Violet¡¯s face, then a sh of panic, then denial. ¡®I... I don¡¯t know what you are talking about.¡¯


    Someone yelled across the room.


    ¡®Oi¡ªlook at this! Someone just tweeted that Eliza¡¯s jewellery set¡¯s fake!¡¯


    The room froze for half a second.


    Then every chair rolled back and half the office grabbed their phones.


    ¡®It¡¯s some alt ount,¡¯ someone said, scrolling fast. ¡®Already over a thousand shares. Might hit trending any minute.¡¯


    ¡®How could Eliza be wearing knock-offs? Did someone switch it on the way?¡¯


    Violet¡¯s face turned the same colour as the paper in the printer tray. She grabbed her phone.


    Her thumb kept missing the unlock button. By the time she got into the screen, her grip on the phone had gone shaky.


    ¡®Wait¡ªsomeone¡¯s saying it¡¯s not fake, it¡¯s copied.¡¯


    ¡®There¡¯s side-by-side pics. Not ¡°copied¡±, mate. Identical. That set dropped three years ago.¡¯


    Chairs scraped. Heads turned. The entire room was now staring at Violet.


    Her right hand braced the top of a cubicle for bnce, but her knees looked like they might give in.


    No one said anything loud. The volume dropped to whispers.


    ¡®What the hell¡¯s going on?¡¯


    ¡®Did she actually rip it off?¡¯


    ¡®Looks that way. And the original looks better, if I¡¯m honest.¡¯


    Someone snorted, but it got cut off when Savannah Lane stormed out of her office, heels thudding fast on theminate.


    She waved her phone in the air. ¡®Vivian Holloway just rang me from Venice. Full-on screaming. Violet Lin, what the hell have you done?¡¯


    Violet didn¡¯t respond. Her eyes weren¡¯t tracking properly, and her mouth opened and closed like she was chewing words that wouldn¡¯te out.


    Savannah flung her phone down. It bounced once on the floor, then hit the leg of a chair.


    ¡®Eliza needed this event. Her wholeeback PR thing hinged on it. And now she¡¯s getting roasted for wearing knock-off jewellery like some two-bit influencer. Vivian says the hashtag¡¯s already climbing. What the hell am I supposed to tell them now?¡¯


    Someone at the back muttered, ¡®She just posted on Instagram. And X.¡¯


    Every screen lit up again.


    Savannah yanked a phone out of the nearest hand¡ªher own was still lying face down on the floor¡ªand squinted at the feed.


    It was Eliza¡¯s verified ount. Caption in both English and Italian.


    The post said she¡¯d ordered the jewellery in good faith, wore it with full trust, and now feltpletely blindsided if it was really a giarised design.


    She imed she¡¯d been lied to by the brand. Said she was heartbroken. Then she dropped screenshots¡ªdesign drafts and chat logs, proof that she¡¯d bought the design in good faith.


    Her fan base turned militant in under thirty seconds.

 Chapter 105 - 106 Blame Game

    <h4>Chapter 105: Chapter 106 me Game</h4>


    Violet¡¯s phone went off like a fire rm.


    The lockscreen filled up with pop-ups¡ªDMs, tags, mentions, every single one glowing red.


    She set it to silent with a flick of her thumb, but her hand was shaking.


    ¡®Vanna, I¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t bother,¡¯ Savannah snapped. ¡®Just tell me this: are they lying? Did you copy that set or not?¡¯


    Violet¡¯s mouth moved, but the sound barely came out. ¡®Let me exin.¡¯


    ¡®Then exin!¡¯ Savannah shoved the phone in Violet¡¯s face. ¡®The photos are out now. Roux & Luneunched their products three years ago. Yours came outst week. Did you work for Roux beforeing to Nyx?¡¯


    Violet gave a tiny shake of her head.


    ¡®Do you happen to own Roux?¡¯ Savannah held out a faint glimmer of hope.


    Violet shook her head again.


    ¡®The designer at Roux, any rtion of yours?¡¯


    Another head shake.


    ¡®So, unless the idea was beamed into your head by divine intervention, how do you exin your design is identical to theirs?¡¯


    Savannah¡¯s face was murderous red. She looked ready to strangle Violet with her bare hands. ¡®Speak!¡¯


    Violet flinched. ¡®I copied it, I¡¯m sorry!¡¯


    Savannah staggered back on her heels. ¡®No.¡¯


    ¡®I didn¡¯t have a choice! Eliza rejected every draft I sent. If we didn¡¯t deliver something she liked, Nyx would¡¯ve had to pay out the penalties.¡¯ Violet looked pleadingly at Savannah. ¡®I was trying to save ourpany. You understand, right?¡¯


    Savannah wentpletely still.


    Violet nced around the office, seeking support. ¡®Come on, guys. You all know what Eliza was like. And her agent kept calling me twenty times a day. I tried, I really did! But nothing seemed to make them happy. And you guys had to stay back and workte into the night to help. I had to do something.¡¯


    ¡®So you copied anotherpany¡¯s design?¡¯ Disapproval was evident in the tone of the colleague who spoke. ¡®You thought that would solve our problems?¡¯


    ¡®Well, it almost did, didn¡¯t it? The brand¡¯s based in Belgium. They only have one store in Antwerp. Nobody outside the country has ever heard of it. It was so unlikely that anyone would find out. Eliza was getting rave reviews, and everything was fine until...¡¯ Violet spun around, eyes pinned on me. ¡®Until she leaked it.¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯ A dozen voices spoke at the same time.


    Savannah looked at me sceptically.


    ¡®Yeah, Mirabelle knew,¡¯ Violet continued, her voice growing stronger, louder. ¡®She knew and kept quiet so she could screw me over. This is all her!¡¯


    She shoved her phone in the air like it was evidence. ¡®Look¡ªlook at the location tag on the original leak. It¡¯s from Skyline City. Of course it¡¯s her. It¡¯s Mirabelle.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t even bother to roll my eyes. ¡®There are ten million people in Skyline.¡¯


    ¡®But only one who knows both about Roux & Lune and my designs!¡¯ Violet red at me. ¡®Vanna, it¡¯s her! She leaked the story, she ruined the whole thing! If she hadn¡¯t run her big mouth online, no one would¡¯ve found out!¡¯


    Savannah frowned. ¡®Is that true, Mira?¡¯


    Violet cut in, ¡®Of course it¡¯s true! Vanna, just take her phone. You¡¯ll see the login, the post uploaded from her ount.¡¯


    ¡®You want my phone?¡¯ I snorted. ¡®Get a search warrant.¡¯


    ¡®See? She doesn¡¯t want to give it up because she knows it¡¯ll expose her!¡¯ Violet was growing more confident by the second. ¡®You think I stole your spotlight. That¡¯s what this is. You¡¯ve been waiting for a chance to sabotage me.¡¯


    She jabbed a finger at me. ¡®You stared at my screen earlier. You stared at the pieces when they were boxed up and shipped off. You knew what was going to happen. That brand¡¯s so tiny, only another designer would¡¯ve recognised it.¡¯


    She took a step forward, shouting now. ¡®You didn¡¯t care about the fallout. You just wanted revenge. You¡¯ve trashed me, and now you¡¯re tanking the wholepany!¡¯


    Murmurs rippled. A couple of girls behind Violet were whispering and side-eying me.


    I barked out augh. ¡®I¡¯m tanking thepany? Did I hold a gun to your head and force you to giarise the designs?¡¯


    Violet sniffled. ¡®I had no choice. Eliza¡¯s standards were insane. I didn¡¯t want thepany to get sued.¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯s not wrong,¡¯ someone muttered. ¡®Eliza made her revise the sketchbook like sixteen times. She was pulling out chunks of hair by the end.¡¯


    ¡®Oh, I see. So now she¡¯s some martyr? If she was trying to save thepany, then everything could be forgiven, even giarism? Are you serious right now? You can study someone¡¯s structure, but you don¡¯t rip off their whole sp system, their gemstone orientation, their bloody pearl detailing.¡¯


    I stared down the girl who spoke up for Violet until she shrank away.


    ¡®I didn¡¯t post anything,¡¯ I said. ¡®I noticed you copied the design, yeah, but only just now. I haven¡¯t had time to go to the bathroom, let alone upload shit online.¡¯


    ¡®Liar!¡¯ Violet was losing it.


    ¡®Eliza¡¯s face gets stered all over the inte every time she sneezes. Given time, anyone could have spotted the identical designs. It was bound to happen.¡¯


    ¡®No,¡¯ Violet said, shaking her head stubbornly. ¡®No one would recognise that brand unless they were looking for it.¡¯


    She stalked over and grabbed my phone off the desk. ¡®Just give me your phone! I¡¯ll prove it!¡¯


    I lunged after her.


    She dodged left, phone still in her grip.


    ¡®Give it back. You¡¯re out of your fucking mind.¡¯


    ¡®I have to check it!¡¯


    I twisted her wrist so hard her bone might have snapped. She was forced to let go.


    Violet howled in pain. ¡®You won¡¯t do it because you¡¯re guilty! If you¡¯re so innocent, prove it! Show everyone your phone!¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t have to prove anything. It¡¯s you who¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Enough!¡¯

 Chapter 106 - 107 Two Hundred Million

    <h4>Chapter 106: Chapter 107 Two Hundred Million</h4>


    Savannah thumped her fist on a desk.


    A mug jumped up, crashed to the floor with a thud that shut everyone up.


    Violet turned to her. ¡®You saw that, right? She panicked. She¡¯s hiding something.¡¯


    I faced Savannah too. ¡®For thest time, it wasn¡¯t me.¡¯


    ¡®Enough!¡¯ Savannah shouted again. She looked as if she¡¯d aged ten years in as many minutes. ¡®This whole mess started because someone copied a damn design. That¡¯s the core of it. Who leaked it doesn¡¯t matter. Violet Lin, you copied. That¡¯s fact. Yes or no?¡¯


    ¡®I...¡¯ Violet bit her lip. ¡®I only did it for Nyx. I thought¡ª¡¯


    Savannah mmed both hands on the table. Pencil holders rattled. One toppled, spilling half its contents.


    ¡®We¡¯re being shredded online! I had a wholeunch nned after this! And you blew it! Now, fix it.¡¯


    ¡®H-how?¡¯ Violet stammered.


    ¡®How the hell should I know? Shouldn¡¯t you have thought of that before you went ahead with your dumbfuck idea?¡¯


    Savannah¡¯s phone buzzed on the floor. The vibration rattled on the tiles, loud and urgent.


    She bent, snatched it up, swore when she saw the name onscreen, took a deep breath, braced herself, then hit answer. ¡®Miss Holloway, I was just about to¡ª¡¯


    Savannah pulled the phone away from her ear. Her mouth stayed open, but she didn¡¯t get a word in. Just nodded, then muttered a string of apologies.


    Her skin turned blotchy and red. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Her other hand tightened around the edge of the table until her knuckles went pale.


    The caller didn¡¯t hold back. I caught the muffled shouts even from two meters away.


    Savannah kept nodding and mumbling apologies.


    She hung up after five minutes. ¡®That was Eliza¡¯s agent. She said Eliza¡¯s losing brand deals. A few already want to pull out. They think she¡¯s bad press now. Contracts are being terminated. They¡¯re demanding breach-of-contractpensation from us.¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯ Violet¡¯s sobbing cut off. Her knees buckled. She half-sat, half-fell into the nearest chair. ¡®How much?¡¯


    ¡®She didn¡¯t say,¡¯ Savannah muttered.


    Violet swallowed, throat bobbing hard. ¡®You¡¯re not gonna make me pay all of it, right?¡¯


    Savannah didn¡¯t answer.


    That set Violet off again. ¡®It wasn¡¯t all my fault! If Mirabelle hadn¡¯t leaked anything, none of this would¡¯ve happened. She¡¯s involved. She should pay too!¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re delusional,¡¯ I said.


    ¡®It¡¯s you! If you¡¯d kept your fucking mouth shut, none of this would¡¯ve happened!¡¯


    ¡®Um,¡¯ a girl raised her phone hesitatingly. ¡®Someone just tagged Mirabelle. It¡¯s Octavia Grey.¡¯


    I pulled out my phone. Notifications had already flooded the lock screen.


    Octavia always walked the red carpetst. She had just stepped out, and every celeb post before her got swallowed.


    Her PR team had done the usual grid dump¡ªdress credits, styling breakdown, makeup brand tags. Same format Eliza¡¯s people had used.


    But then Octavia posted on her personal ount.


    It was a selfie from the dinner Ashton set up, with just her and me.


    Caption read: ¡®My jewellery plug @MVanceJewels (thumbs-up emoji, heart emoji, rose emoji).¡¯


    Thements exploded.


    ¡®OG finally posted. She looks unreal!¡¯


    ¡®Who¡¯s the girl next to her? Is she an actress?¡¯


    ¡®Jewellery designer, apparently. Her stuff looks good.¡¯


    ¡®Gorgeous and talented. Following immediately.¡¯


    ¡®OG always finds the best stuff. This is better than anything I¡¯ve seen from the big namestely.¡¯


    I scrolled past a few more.


    The follower count shot past ten thousand in a matter of seconds.


    ¡®Mirabelle!¡¯ Savannah¡¯s voice cracked. ¡®When you said you were doing pieces for someone, did you mean Octavia Grey?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah.¡¯ I nodded.


    ¡®Why the hell didn¡¯t you tell me?¡¯


    ¡®I did, remember? Just forgot to mention her name.¡¯ It felt premature to brag.


    Savannah shot forward, grabbed my hand. ¡®She¡¯s way bigger than Eliza. If I¡¯d known you were working with her, I¡¯d have gone straight to her team myself.¡¯


    ¡®You didn¡¯t need to.¡¯


    Violet interrupted, ¡®Vanna, Mirabelle¡¯s part of Nyx Collective. She¡¯s not supposed to take jobs on the side.¡¯


    Savannah whipped her head around. ¡®Shut it. You¡¯re the one who fucked up. You dragged us into that mess.¡¯


    Violet¡¯s face went blotchy. Her mouth opened like she wanted to talk back, but she didn¡¯t. She stood there breathing through her nose, chest rising fast.


    Savannah turned back to me, all smiles again. ¡®Post something. Say you¡¯re with Nyx. Just a quick tag. Let people know we¡¯ve got talent.¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯


    She blinked. ¡®What?¡¯


    ¡®I said no.¡¯


    She gripped my hand harder. ¡®Come on, Mira. We need buzz, especially now. Just this once. Do us a favour.¡¯


    I locked my phone and put it screen-down on the table.


    ¡®She caused the damage. That¡¯s not my bill to pay. Even if I post, even if people see I work here, what does that change? Violet still copied someone else¡¯s design. People don¡¯t forget that easily. All the post will do is show that I work with a giariser.¡¯


    Savannah stared at my phone, but she didn¡¯t reach for it. She wasn¡¯t Violet.


    ¡®Mirabelle. You post it now, I¡¯ll give you the Aureate slot. No contest. Straight to you. Deal?¡¯


    That gave me pause.


    The Aureate Awards ran every two years. It was an international designpetition with big-name sponsors and wide press coverage.


    Spots were impossible to get unless you had brand backing. Nyx barely scraped one entry per round.


    Thest guy who made it in ced neenth, then vanished from our office two monthster with a new job and a fat contract.


    I tapped my nail against the phone¡¯s edge. ¡®If we¡¯re going by merit, the spot¡¯s already mine. Giving it to anyone else would be a waste. You know that.¡¯


    ¡®Come on!¡¯ Savannah leaned in and whispered in my ear, ¡®Please, I¡¯m begging you.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t move.


    Savannah swore. ¡®Fine. We¡¯ll use thepany ount instead. Someone log in and repost Octavia¡¯s tag. Make it clear Mirabelle¡¯s ours.¡¯


    One of the admin girls grabbed herptop.


    She reposted Octavia¡¯s tag through the Nyx Collective official ount.


    Comments trickled in, a few at a time.


    ¡®Didn¡¯t know @MVanceJewels worked at Nyx Collective.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t they have a designer who copied? @Elizack.¡¯


    ¡®Doesn¡¯t mean the wholepany¡¯s trash. It¡¯s one person, not the whole brand.¡¯


    Savannah leaned over the screen, reading every line with her lips pressed tight.


    She looked less ready to scream now.


    Then Octavia posted again.


    ¡®Loved working with @MVanceJewels. Custom piece,missioned privately. No charge. Not connected to herpany in any way. (smile emoji)¡¯


    Savannah¡¯s face drained. She stared at her phone without blinking, then read it again. And again.


    She didn¡¯t speak for two whole minutes.


    Then her ringtone went off.


    Savannah picked up, listened, hung up, and dropped into the chair like someone had kicked her knees out.


    ¡®That was Eliza¡¯s agent. They want two hundred million in damages.¡¯

 Chapter 107 - 108 Victory

    <h4>Chapter 107: Chapter 108 Victory</h4>


    Savannah begged and begged and begged and almost got on her knees.


    By the end of a marathon grovelling session, she¡¯d managed to get Eliza ck¡¯s demand cut from two hundred million to fifty.


    The project didn¡¯t just fail to make money¡ªit had bled them fifty million.


    Savannah was so furious that she ended up in bed with stress-induced fever the same day.


    Violet Lin had to cough up thirty million of that money herself to avoid being booted from Nyx Collective and cklisted by the whole industry.


    Her family may have made its fortune quick, but dropping thirty million all at once still wasn¡¯t a walk in the park.


    For an entire week, nobody at Nyx got any work done. A few had tendered their resignation.


    Violet was too busy licking her wounds to spar with me.


    Meanwhile, my follower count on social media had exploded. My inbox was full. Severalpanies offered me a job.


    But my focus wasn¡¯t on work at the moment.


    Days before the trial, Hannah and her team finally managed to convince Priya Sharma to testify. She and her family had flown into Skyline City.


    I hadn¡¯t seen her since high school. We¡¯d kept in touch a little¡ªtexts here and there, money when she needed it¡ªbut not a face-to-face meeting.


    She hadn¡¯t changed much. Still small, still a bit fragile-looking, though there was a new quietness about her.


    Hannah¡¯s team spent two full days prepping her for court.


    With Priya¡¯s testimony, the trial was smooth sailing.


    The Brooke family didn¡¯t bother showing up. They didn¡¯t send awyer, not even a friend.


    Knowing she¡¯d been given up, Isobel didn¡¯t put up much of a fight in court.


    In the end, she was sentenced to three years for assault, false imprisonment, harassment, and a host of other charges.


    ¡®She deserved more,¡¯ I said. ¡®So much more.¡¯


    Hannah shrugged. ¡®I know it¡¯s hard to swallow, Mira, but with the way the system works, this was the best we could get.¡¯


    ¡®Best? She gets three years for all the damage she¡¯s done? She¡¯s basically being let off easy.¡¯


    Hannah sighed, rubbing her temples. ¡®I get it. Trust me. But you¡¯ve got to understand¡ªthere¡¯s only so much we can do. We fought for everything we could.¡¯ She added, ¡®She¡¯ll serve the full time. No early parole, no bail. I¡¯ll make sure of it.¡¯


    ¡®Thanks.¡¯ I nodded at her. ¡®I know you tried.¡¯


    The morning of the trial, there was a light drizzle.


    By the time I stepped out of the courthouse, the clouds had cleared, and the sun hit my face, warm andforting.


    Priya Sharma was trailing behind me when we stepped out, her hand clutching my sleeve like she was afraid she¡¯d get lost if left alone.


    ¡®Don¡¯t worry,¡¯ I said, offering her a reassuring smile. ¡®There¡¯s no one here to hurt you now. The t at Oakwood Apartments is yours for the time being. You can stay there and wait for thepensation toe through. Meanwhile, I can show you around Skyline. Just give me a couple of days, then I¡¯lle find you.¡¯


    She gave a quiet, rasping ¡®Thanks¡¯. Her vocal cords had been damaged beyond repair.


    I was going to take her to the t myself, but then I spotted a ck car parked near the courthouse. Ashton was stepping out of it.


    I turned to Priya¡¯s parents. ¡®I¡¯ll grab a cab for you guys. I¡¯ve got something to take care of.¡¯


    ¡®Thank you so much!¡¯ her father said, waving me off with a grateful smile.


    Ashton was standing by the car, a conspicuous bouquet of flowers in his hand. The sunlight hit his dark suit, making him look like some sort of strange, glowing creature.


    For a moment, my heart skipped a beat. Then it mmed back into my chest, faster than before.


    I jogged down the courthouse steps, heading straight for him.


    Ashton handed me the flowers. ¡®I couldn¡¯t get away earlier. How¡¯d it go?¡¯


    ¡®She got three years.¡¯ I breathed in the subtle floral scent of the bouquet. ¡®Priya¡¯s testimony went smoothly. She was really brave.¡¯


    Ashton reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. He leaned down slightly. ¡®You were brave too.¡¯


    My pulse quickened as his clear blue eyes locked onto mine.


    I held the flowers tight, feeling the paper crinkle beneath my fingers. ¡®Why the flowers?¡¯


    ¡®A win deserves celebration.¡¯


    ¡®What if I¡¯d lost?¡¯


    ¡®Then this is constion.¡¯


    I grinned. ¡®You have an answer for everything.¡¯


    ¡®I also have a lunch reservation at La Vache Dor¨¦e.¡¯ Ashton held the car door open for me. ¡®Your spicy steak frites are waiting. And chocte mousse.¡¯


    My mouth watered. ¡®Then what are we waiting for? Let¡¯s go.¡¯


    Ashton climbed into the car and signalled for the driver to take off. He turned to me, watching as I cradled the hyacinths in myp.


    I found a notecard attached to the bouquet:


    ¡®Dearest Mirabelle,


    When hyacinths rest in the cold of night,


    They wake with spring and reach for light.


    Let shadows fade, let new days gleam¡ª


    Walk on with fire, chase every dream.


    ¡ªA.¡¯


    ¡®You wrote this?¡¯ I looked up at him.


    ¡®I¡¯d love to im that credit, but no, I had help.¡¯


    ¡®Still, it¡¯s nice. Thanks.¡¯


    His faint smile disappeared altogether. ¡®Like I said before, you don¡¯t have to thank me for everything.¡¯


    ¡®Right, forgot.¡¯ Changing the subject, I said, ¡®Actually, I was pretty anxious earlier. It was my first court case, after all. Even as I walked out of that courthouse, everything still felt a bit surreal, but now I feel... settled. And I appreciate you sending Hannah and her team to help. They are extremely professional.¡¯


    ¡®¡°Appreciate¡± is just another word for thank you.¡¯


    ¡®Right. Forgot again, sorry. But I do want to tell you that I¡¯m grateful.¡¯


    Before he could tell me that ¡®grateful¡¯ was another synonym for thank you, I craned my neck. ¡®Are we there yet? I¡¯m starving.¡¯

 Chapter 108 - 109 Wall of Shame

    <h4>Chapter 108: Chapter 109 Wall of Shame</h4>


    Days passed, and good things just kepting.


    The Isobel Brooke case had barely been wrapped up when Finn dropped the next bombshell: Rhys¡¯s defamation case was going to trial soon.


    I¡¯d been fuming about it for weeks, but after a month of waiting, my anger had dulled to a simmer.


    I handed the whole thing over to Finn and wasn¡¯t about to waste my time showing up to court.


    With the LGHwyer team on his side, Finn had the case wrapped up with hardly any effort.


    In the end, the court ruled in my favour. Rhys had to pay me twenty grand and issue a public apology.


    I heard from Finn that Rhys, apparently too busy nning his wedding to bother showing up, had sent hiswyer instead.


    And he dragged his feet on the apology. I knew what he was thinking: he believed if he buried his head in the sand long enough, the whole thing would just go away.


    But Finn and team hounded him daily, threatening to take him back to court for refusing toply with the judgment.


    In the end, Rhys had no choice. He grudgingly posted an apology to his old chat groups and his social media.


    What exactly he posted, I never saw. I¡¯d long deleted him from my life.


    It was Yvaine who¡¯d sent me the screenshots.


    Sheughed for at least ten minutes when she called.


    ¡®I checked,¡¯ she said, still cackling. ¡®He posted at two o¡¯clock in the morning and took it down five minutes after it went up. Probably thought no one would see it. Idiot. I screenshot everything. And guess what? I¡¯m reposting it everywhere. It¡¯s going to be permanent. A whole Rhys Granger wall of shame.¡¯


    ¡®I take my hat off to you.¡¯ Not everyone had the dedication to stay past three am just to get the drop on an enemy.


    ¡®You saw his wedding announcement, right?¡¯ Yvaine snorted, wide awake. ¡®Pure PR damage control. ¡°See? I¡¯m not a deadbeat, I¡¯m a family man.¡± Cute. But it won¡¯t work.¡¯


    ¡®Helps a little. At least to calm the press.¡¯


    ¡®Helps jack shit. GDG¡¯s stock still tanked. And stocks don¡¯t bounce back because he suddenly remembers how to propose. People don¡¯t forget scandal that fast. Especially when I¡¯m the one keeping it alive.¡¯


    ¡®He must be fuming.¡¯


    ¡®Oh, he¡¯s probably chucking furniture. My post¡¯s been up twenty minutes and already got reposted hundreds of times. He¡¯s probably losing his mind trying to find out who reposted it.¡¯


    I pictured him standing in his penthouse, veins popping, screaming at his phone while some poor assistant tapped furiously at the keyboard.


    The image gave me a weird amount of peace.


    ¡®Thanks, Yvaine. Seriously.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t thank me. Wasn¡¯t just me. I had help.¡¯


    ¡®From who?¡¯


    She paused, and I could practically hear the smirk stretch across her face. ¡®Why don¡¯t you ask your husband?¡¯


    I blinked. ¡®What did Ashton do?¡¯


    ¡®Beats me,¡¯ she said breezily. ¡®But no way my post got this kind of traction on my own. I mean, I¡¯m popr, sure, but most of my stuff gets, what, two, three dozen likes and reposts? Mostly from cousins and friends.¡¯


    She trailed off, fingers tapping at her screen.


    ¡®Wait a sec... I¡¯m looking at a repost count over two thousand. And climbing. That¡¯s definitely not me, babe. That¡¯s someone with serious reach. Or serious money.¡¯


    ¡®What makes you think it¡¯s Ashton?¡¯


    Yvaineughed, short and smug. ¡®What makes you think it¡¯s not? Who else fits the criteria? Who else hates Rhys almost as much as we do, and just so happens to have a media team and endless resources?¡¯


    I opened my mouth, then closed it again.


    She had a point.


    ¡®Lunch tomorrow?¡¯ she said.


    ¡®Let¡¯s make it Saturday.¡¯


    ¡®Got it. You¡¯re paying.¡¯ She hung up.


    I stared at my bedroom door. Ashton was two doors down, probably still awake.


    I should thank him. Whatever he¡¯d done, it worked.


    But he didn¡¯t seem to like it when I thanked him.


    And it waste anyway.


    I pulled open my sketchbook, flipped to a fresh page.


    He didn¡¯t need anything, but maybe I could make him something.


    A pair of cufflinks, maybe. Or a tie pin.


    ***


    It was around lunchtime when Finn called.


    He started with small talk¡ªasked how I was, how things were going¡ªthen hesitated.


    ¡®Would you be interested in grabbing a bite to eat?¡¯


    Before I could say no, he rushed on, ¡®Thought we should celebrate the case being wrapped up. My office is nearby. Would be nice to catch up.¡¯


    ¡®Sure. My treat.¡¯


    We met at a small caf¨¦ not far from Nyx Collective. It had old wooden booths, a handwritten chalkboard menu, and the faint smell of roasted tomatoes and burnt sugar.


    We spent most of the meal reminiscing about uni.


    Finn kept circling something. I caught him watching me more than once, his expression flickering between hesitant and oddly serious, like he was working up to something awkward.


    I ran through possibilities.


    Had I forgotten to pay his legal fees?


    After the first two consults, LGH took over, and Hannah assured me everything was redirected through their ounts.


    Still, I made a mental note to double-check with her.


    It wasn¡¯t like Ashton¡¯s team to miss a step. His people were terrifyinglypetent.


    Over dessert, Finn picked at his cheesecake, looked at me, looked down at the cake, looked at me again, his fork drawing weird vertical arcs in the air.


    He reminded me of a pangolin, paws tucked together like he had something to confess.


    But if he wasn¡¯t ready to say whatever it was he wanted to say, I wasn¡¯t going to push.


    We fought over the bill, both reaching like T-Rexes.


    I won.


    The weather was perfect for a walk, sunny but breezy enough not to sweat through my blouse.


    ¡®My office is just down the street,¡¯ Finn said. ¡®There¡¯s a coffee ce next door. Best cold brew in a ten-block radius.¡¯


    ¡®Lead on.¡¯ I shook off the fooda.


    A car tore past, far too fast for the narrow street.


    ¡®Look out!¡¯


    Finn grabbed me around the waist, yanking me back just before I stepped off the kerb.

 Chapter 109 - 110 Ashton’s POV: Potential Threat

    <h4>Chapter 109: Chapter 110 Ashton¡¯s POV: Potential Threat</h4>


    The car halted at a red light.


    From the backseat, Ashton said, ¡®Make a left turn.¡¯


    ¡®But boss, our destination¡¯s to the right.¡¯


    ¡®Left. Make a detour.¡¯


    The driver obeyed without furtherment.


    They turned onto Garrison Lane, three blocks from Nyx Collective¡¯s office.


    The car slowed, crawling through a street lined with outdoor caf¨¦s, post-lunch strollers and errand boys on scooters wobbling under coffee trays.


    Ashton had meant only to drop in and say hello.


    Well. If he was being honest with himself, he also wanted to check out her workce, survey the male poption, identify and quietly eliminate any potential threats.


    He trusted Mirabelle to stick to their contract uses, but he also knew he wasn¡¯t the only man with eyes in his head.


    Then he saw her. And the n changed.


    She wasn¡¯t alone.


    A man stood in front of her on the pavement, both hands on her shoulders, face tight with concern.


    He said something.


    Mirabelle¡¯s back was to Ashton; he couldn¡¯t catch her reply.


    The man dropped his hands, and they began walking.


    He positioned himself street-side, subtly protective.


    Mirabelle turned her head slightly as she spoke.


    Ashton caught the curve of her smile. Rxed. Happy.


    The man leaned in, head tilted, hanging on her words.


    ¡®Slow down,¡¯ Ashton said.


    The car, already moving at a tortoise¡¯s pace, slowed to a snail¡¯s.


    ¡®Who¡¯s that?¡¯


    Dominic Everett, in the front passenger seat, squinted. ¡®Thewyer. The one Mrs Laurent hired before she came to us. Our legal team met him. Finn something.¡¯ He snapped his fingers. ¡®Finnigan Carter.¡¯


    ¡®The college friend.¡¯


    ¡®Yes.¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s frown deepened.


    The case was over. What was he still doing here?


    And judging by the puppy-dog eyes, this Finnigan wanted more than just friendly catch-ups.


    Ashton remembered how Mirabelle had sung his praises, how Finn¡ªnot Finnigan¡ªhad gone above and beyond to help her.


    The observant Dominic noticed the tension in his boss¡¯s frame.


    Attempting a redirection, he said, ¡®Boss, we¡¯re going to runte for the lunch meeting.¡¯


    ¡®Cancel it,¡¯ Ashton said, eyes never leaving the pavement. ¡®Reschedule.¡¯


    Dominic wisely chose silence over protest.


    He made the call, uttered an appropriate apology, hung up, nced back.


    Ashton was still staring out the window.


    The pair on the street weren¡¯t in a hurry. Looked like Finnigan was escorting her back to her office.


    ¡®Dominic,¡¯ Ashton said. ¡®There¡¯s a restaurant there. Get out. Order takeaway. Quick.¡¯


    The car pulled over.


    Dominic, still not entirely sure what Ashton was plotting, did as told.


    Five minutester, he returned with a paper bag and several unanswered questions.


    ¡®Gino, circle round. Beat them to Nyx Collective.¡¯


    The driver took a side street.


    In under a minute, they were parked in front of her building.


    Ashton stepped out with the takeaway bag.


    People recognised him instantly. A few brave souls made tentative moves, hoping for a word, a handshake.


    But Ashton¡¯s bodynguage screamed ¡®leave me the hell alone.¡¯


    He was.


    A few minutester, Mirabelle and Finn appeared.


    She froze. Surprise gave way to confusion as she walked up. ¡®What are you doing here?¡¯


    The impable suit and the paper bag looked incongruous.


    ¡®I¡¯m bringing you lunch, sweetheart.¡¯


    She blinked. ¡®What?¡¯


    Her eyes, already big, widened toical proportions.


    ¡®It¡¯s a surprise, honey.¡¯ He slid an arm round her waist, pulling her close as he turned to Finn. ¡®Hello.¡¯


    A polished smile apanied his outstretched hand.


    ¡®You must be Finnigan. My wife talks a lot about you. Says you¡¯re a greatwyer.¡¯


    Finn blinked like a mudskipper suddenly tossed ontond. He hesitated, then shook Ashton¡¯s hand.


    ¡®Uh... yeah. Hello.¡¯ His gaze darted to Mirabelle. ¡®Wait... you¡¯re married?¡¯


    Mirabelle squirmed. Ashton¡¯s arm didn¡¯t budge.


    ¡®Yeah,¡¯ she muttered. ¡®Sort of.¡¯


    Ashton smoothly cut in, ¡®Been a while now, actually.¡¯ Forty-eight days and counting.


    He held Finn¡¯s gaze. The edge in his look wasn¡¯t even trying to hide.


    Mirabelle threw him a quick, questioning nce.


    Finn looked like he had a thousand questions.


    ¡®Honey?¡¯ Ashton prompted. ¡®Aren¡¯t you going to do the honours?¡¯


    ¡®What? Oh. Right.¡¯ She cleared her throat. ¡®This is Finn Carter, college friend, also thewyer who helped me with my case. And this is... Ashton Laurent. My, um, husband.¡¯


    Ashton lifted the takeaway bag. ¡®I¡¯d have brought more if I knew you were joining us.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s fine,¡¯ Finn managed. ¡®We¡¯ve eaten.¡¯


    ¡®We?¡¯


    ¡®Mira and I just had lunch.¡¯


    ¡®Oh, I see.¡¯


    Silence.


    The three of them stood in an awkward tableau, with pedestrians thronging around them.


    Finn looked at Ashton¡¯s arm still firmly locked around Mirabelle¡¯s waist, then read the message in his eyes.


    Realisation dawned.


    He¡¯d missed his chance.


    ¡®I need to get back to the firm,¡¯ he muttered. ¡®We¡¯ll get that coffee some other time, Mira. Nice meeting you, Mr Ashton.¡¯


    ¡®You too, Mr Carter,¡¯ Ashton said.


    Mirabelle nodded, distracted. ¡®Take care.¡¯


    Once Finn was gone, she turned to him. ¡®What are you doing here?¡¯


    ¡®Bringing you lunch, like I said.¡¯


    ¡®You never do that.¡¯


    ¡®There¡¯s a first time for everything.¡¯


    People were staring. Mirabelle squirmed out of his arm. This time, he let go.


    ¡®I¡¯ve eaten.¡¯


    ¡®I heard. Bad timing on my part. My meeting was nearby. I thought we could share a meal.¡¯


    ¡®You haven¡¯t eaten?¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯


    ¡®Well.¡¯ She pointed to the bag in his hand. ¡®Go ahead.¡¯ She nced around. ¡®Do you want toe up to my office? Or there¡¯s a coffee ce across the street.¡¯


    ¡®Is that the ce where you nned to ¡°get coffee¡± with Mr Carter?¡¯


    ¡®What? You mean he said... Oh, um, I don¡¯t know, maybe this is the ce he meant, or some other ce. I didn¡¯t get the chance to find out.¡¯


    ¡®Would you like to?¡¯


    ¡®Like to what?¡¯


    ¡®To find out. From Mr Carter.¡¯


    Mirabelle squinted at him. ¡®You are acting weird.¡¯


    ¡®Am I?¡¯


    ¡®Yes, you are.¡¯


    ¡®Well.¡¯ He took her hand and began walking. ¡®It¡¯s crowded here. Let¡¯s get in the car.¡¯


    ¡®And a car¡¯s not crowded?¡¯ She huffed, but followed him anyway.

 Chapter 110 - 111 Ashton’s POV: Give and Take

    <h4>Chapter 110: Chapter 111 Ashton¡¯s POV: Give and Take</h4>


    The car wasn¡¯t crowded at all.


    Gino and Dominic had long since made themselves scarce.


    Ashton sat with the takeaway bag beside him. He lowered the temperature in the car until the faint flush on Mirabelle¡¯s cheeks subsided.


    The windows had a tinted ze to protect them from prying eyes.


    Mirabelle removed a bottled water from the minifridge and drank.


    ¡®Is this Carmen¡¯s cooking?¡¯ she asked, eyeing the box suspiciously.


    ¡®Yes,¡¯ he said absently. A few water droplets had dribbled down her chin. She was licking her lips.


    She looked at him. ¡®You really didn¡¯t have to bring me lunch. There are plenty of ces to eat around here. And it¡¯s not exactly on your way.¡¯


    It wasn¡¯t. Not even close. It was a forty-minute detour with traffic and a minor detonation of his schedule.


    But Ashton hadn¡¯t been thinking logically when he¡¯d spotted her with Finn Carter. Logic had left the building the second he saw that man¡¯s hands on her shoulders.


    ¡®I happened to be nearby,¡¯ he lied smoothly.


    She shrugged. ¡®Alright then.¡¯ She consulted her phone. ¡®It¡¯s way past lunchtime. You¡¯re probably hungry.¡¯


    ¡®Join me.¡¯


    ¡®But I¡¯m not hungry.¡¯


    ¡®Just a bite. You know you love Carmen¡¯s cooking.¡¯


    ¡®I do.¡¯ She dug out a disposable fork. ¡®Alright, just a bite.¡¯


    He opened the box.


    Immediately, a wave of vegetable oil and fried onion smell wafted out.


    Mirabelle winced, the fork hovering mid-air uncertainly.


    ¡®This is Carmen¡¯s cooking?¡¯


    Ashton mentally cursed the restaurant. The fries were glistening so much, he could see his reflection in them.


    But one lie led to another, so he nodded. ¡®Yes. Carmen wanted to try something different today. You know, switch it up a bit. She¡¯s... experimenting.¡¯


    Mirabelle inched away from the food like it might jump out and stain her blouse. She set down her fork. ¡®You go ahead.¡¯


    It was Ashton¡¯s fork¡¯s turn to hover.


    ¡®I thought you were hungry,¡¯ Mirabelle said.


    With grim determination, Ashton picked up the stic fork and speared a piece of chicken which looked marginally less oily than itspanions.


    It was appalling. Greasy, oversalted, vaguely spongy.


    He chewed mechanically, swallowing with difficulty.


    The silence stretched. Only the sounds of his tortured chewing filled the car.


    Mirabelle watched him sympathetically. She handed him a bottle of iced water from the minifridge. ¡®Here.¡¯


    He took a grateful swig.


    ¡®You don¡¯t have to eat it if you hate it so much,¡¯ she said.


    ¡®I don¡¯t hate it. I¡¯m just not used to it.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯d have to be a junk food addict to get used to it.¡¯ Mirabelle nced at her phone. ¡®I should get back to the office.¡¯


    ¡®Wait.¡¯ He wiped his mouth with a napkin, then took a breath mint.


    ¡®What is it?¡¯


    ¡®I brought you lunch. Shouldn¡¯t I get something in return?¡¯


    ¡®For a lunch I didn¡¯t eat?¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s the thought that counts,¡¯ he argued.


    ¡®Fine. What do you want?¡¯


    He pretended to think about it. He already knew.


    ¡®Kiss me.¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯


    When she didn¡¯t move, he sighed. ¡®I bring you food, only to find you¡¯ve already eaten¡ªwith another man. And now I¡¯m here, starving, forcing down cold leftovers. But it¡¯s fine. Don¡¯t worry about it.¡¯


    ¡®No one asked you to bring me food,¡¯ she murmured, sounding conflicted.


    ¡®It¡¯s alright,¡¯ he said again, soft and martyred.


    She hesitated.


    Then, as if deciding to humour a particrly petnt child, she leaned forward to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.


    Except Ashton turned his head just before shended.


    Her lips grazed the corner of his mouth instead of his cheek.


    He didn¡¯t give her a chance to retreat.


    He chased her down with a kiss of his own, firm, insistent, coaxing.


    He caught her bottom lip between his, teasing it with a slow tug before tracing its curve with his tongue.


    She tensed, startled. He felt the resistance in her shoulders, in the way her breath caught.


    But then she gave in.


    Ashton¡¯s pulse surged, a low thrum in his throat and chest.


    The car around them was dim, sunlight filtered through tinted windows, casting a faint golden haze.


    Outside, the world carried on¡ªhorns honking, engines sputtering, the distant grind of brakes¡ªbut it all faded into nothing beneath the press of her lips.


    She parted them slightly. Enough for him to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue past the seam of her mouth, slow and reverent, not demanding but utterly unrelenting.


    The scent of her perfume mingled with the ghost of her lip gloss, now smeared across his own mouth.


    Then she bit his lower lip.


    Not hard. Just enough to shock him back into his body.


    He froze, breath hitching. Was that anger? Reproach?


    He was about to pull back, to apologise, but her arm slid behind his neck and pulled him in.


    Her fingers tangled at the base of his hair. She kissed him again, deeper this time, without hesitation.


    He tasted a trace of chocte cake on her tongue.


    Her mouth moved against his with the confidence of someone who knew exactly how he liked to be kissed, and had no interest in pretending otherwise.


    It was familiar, practised, well-rehearsed.


    But there was nothing tired about it.


    Their mouths moved in sync, a rhythm built from their multiple rehearsals.


    She kissed him until the lip gloss was entirely gone, until only heat and breath remained between them.


    Then she pulled away.


    Ashton sat there, dazed, lips tingling and heart pounding against the starched line of his shirt.


    She met his eyes, amused and just a little smug. ¡®Next time you want a kiss, just ask. You don¡¯t have to torture yourself with sad excuses like that.¡¯ She nced pointedly at the takeaway container, still open.


    Then she opened the door and slipped out of the car.


    Ashton watched her disappear into the building.


    Then he reached over, flipped the tray up, and dumped the entire offensive meal straight into the bin.


    ¡®Worth it.¡¯

 Chapter 111 - 112 Rings

    <h4>Chapter 111: Chapter 112 Rings</h4>


    I was slouched on the couch, flicking through channels, when I noticed a white box on the coffee table.


    Ashton came into the living room. ¡®It¡¯s for you. Open it.¡¯


    ¡®For me?¡¯ I looked up, surprised, and reached for the box, flipping the lid open.


    Inside were two rings.


    I froze, my fingers hovering over the smooth metal.


    He stepped into my line of sight, standing right in front of me. ¡®They are our wedding rings.¡¯


    I nced at the rings again. A pair of tinum bands, each with a small band of delicate diamonds embedded in them. The first letter of our names¡ª¡®M¡¯ and ¡®A¡¯¡ªengraved inside.


    I didn¡¯t reach for them. ¡®What happened to the rings we wore to your grandfather¡¯s party? I probably lost mine somewhere in the pool.¡¯


    ¡®It has been found, but that was a mere prop, bought at a moment¡¯s notice.¡¯


    ¡®It was good enough to fool the guests.¡¯


    ¡®But not good enough for you.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not sure about this,¡¯ I said. ¡®We¡¯ve already swapped gifts once, remember? The ck gold ring I gave you, and the pendant with the grandidierite stone you gave me.¡¯


    Which was so valuable that I¡¯d only worn it once before locking it away in a safe.


    ¡®Those were gifts tomemorate the beginning of our coboration. Wedding rings are different.¡¯


    ¡®Exactly. Wedding rings are different.¡¯ Wearing them, in public, at all times, would transform our marriage from a line in a contract to a visible truth, seen and understood by everyone.


    ¡®A ring would save you the hassle of having to exin yourself to everyone.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t have to exin myself to anyone anyway,¡¯ I argued.


    ¡®Including Mr Carter?¡¯


    ¡®Finn? What about him? He never asked me if I¡¯m married. Why would he?¡¯


    Ashton stared at me. I was seated, he was standing, an angle that made his already imposing height feel even more overwhelming.


    He didn¡¯t say a word, but his silence pressed down on me so heavily, I feltpelled to exin myself.


    ¡®Finn¡¯s a friend. That¡¯s all.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s not what he thinks.¡¯


    ¡®You think he¡¯s into me?¡¯ I stared up at him, amazed.


    ¡®I don¡¯t think; I know.¡¯


    ¡®Come on, just because he took me out to lunch doesn¡¯t mean he wants to get into my pants. I paid, by the way. Don¡¯t you think he¡¯d have insisted on picking up the tab if he wanted something in return? Isn¡¯t that how things usually work? And, FYI, it¡¯s lunch, not dinner. No alcohol involved.¡¯


    I stood up on the couch, so now I was towering above him.


    ¡®I don¡¯t like you throwing usations at my friend. I also don¡¯t like that you¡¯d doubt mymitment to the contract. I said I¡¯d be your fake wife for a year, and I keep my word, no matter what. I swear I¡¯m not going to date another guy till our contract runs out, is that a good enough guarantee for you?¡¯


    Ashton was quiet for a long while.


    Eventually, he said, ¡®I didn¡¯t mean to anger you.¡¯


    ¡®Well, you seeded without trying.¡¯


    ¡®Maybe I didn¡¯t make myself clear. I wasn¡¯t implying that you were interested in dating Mr Carter, just that he might be interested in you.¡¯


    ¡®I can¡¯t control what other people think.¡¯


    ¡®You can¡¯t, but wouldn¡¯t it be better if such thoughts never had the opportunity to arise in the first ce? Wouldn¡¯t that be more preferable to the scenario where Mr Carter confesses his feelings to you, only for you to turn him down? He¡¯ll have his heart broken, and you might lose a friend in the process.¡¯


    I eyed him from my high vantage point and equally high moral ground. ¡®You are trying to manipte me.¡¯ And damn it if he didn¡¯t sound convincing.


    ¡®I¡¯m trying to make both our lives easier. There are women who keep trying to get my attention, no matter how many times I turn them down. I don¡¯t want that kind of distraction, and I¡¯m sure you don¡¯t either. A ring makes all that go away.¡¯


    I climbed down from my vantage point.


    Pursuing his lead, Ashton continued, ¡®And it would help convince your parents who, from what I understand, still haven¡¯t given up on matchmaking you off to the highest bidder.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah.¡¯ I smiled ruefully.


    Me marrying Ashton Laurent was so hard to believe that Franklin and Caroline simply refused to ept it. They thought I was just throwing his name around to force them to back off.


    ¡®Married couples wear rings,¡¯ he stated like it was an incontrovertible fact.


    ¡®Most do,¡¯ I mumbled. ¡®Some don¡¯t.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t know what was stopping me from epting the ring. I¡¯d yed along so far, hadn¡¯t I?


    I¡¯d even started to enjoy our kisses, and if one night, Ashton came knocking on my door, I knew I wouldn¡¯t say no.


    But putting a ring on it made it all too... real. Too final.


    Like amitment I couldn¡¯t easily back out of.


    Ashton took one of the rings, knelt in front of me, slid it onto my ring finger.


    I should¡¯ve said something. I should¡¯ve pushed him away.


    But instead, I just stared at him.


    He held out his left hand, waiting.


    Moving like an automaton, I picked up the other ring and slid it on.


    The rest of the night felt like a haze, a strange kind of disconnection hanging over me.


    It lingered until I finallyy down to sleep.


    I lifted my hand and stared at the ring on my finger.


    Through the small gap between my fingers, I could almost see him kneeling in front of me, his eyes locked onto mine.


    I ran my thumb over the ring, picked up my phone, and checked the calendar.


    It had been over a month since Ashton and I had gotten our marriage licence.


    Just over ten more months to go until the year was up.


    And then we¡¯d divorce.


    The end seemed inevitable.


    I closed my eyes slowly, trying to shut out the thoughts that had started to swirl.

 Chapter 112 - 113 Screwed Over

    <h4>Chapter 112: Chapter 113 Screwed Over</h4>


    The atmosphere at Nyx Collective had changed.


    Everyone was on edge, running around like they had a thousand things to do.


    It was all because of the new boss.


    The word had spread like wildfire that he could pop by any minute for an inspection, and thest thing anyone wanted was to look unprepared.


    Savannah had been hammering it into everyone¡¯s heads¡ªno mistakes.


    The office had to be spotless. After the cleaning crew had done their rounds in the morning, we all had to go over everything again, checking every corner, hunting down every ant and its rtive.


    I walked into the office that morning and, instantly, the atmosphere felt off.


    I meant, more off than usual.


    Everyone was scrambling to tidy their desks, but the nces they shot my way were... weird.


    I caught a few people looking at me, their faces tight, like they were about to say something but kept holding back.


    I raised an eyebrow, confused, and made my way to my desk.


    I looked over at Zara Khan, who¡¯d always been my go-to for office gossip. ¡®Is there something on my face?¡¯


    She gave a tiny shake of her head, the kind that meant she knew something but wasn¡¯t ready to share it.


    ¡®Then what the hell¡¯s going on?¡¯


    Zara nced around, leaned in closer. ¡®Savannah gave the spot in the designpetition to Violet Lin. People think it¡¯s a bit unfair.¡¯


    I felt my jaw tighten. ¡®She was supposed to let uspete internally. So why the hell is Violet getting it?¡¯


    Zara¡¯s tone was sympathetic. She looked ready to cry on my behalf. ¡®I don¡¯t know. Violet walked out of Savannah¡¯s office a little while ago, glowing. She just announced the spot was hers. Everyone¡¯s still trying to figure out how it happened.¡¯


    I looked across the room at the empty desk that should¡¯ve been Violet¡¯s. ¡®Where is she?¡¯


    ¡®Probably gloating to anyone else who hasn¡¯t already heard it. I know she has a friend in the office one floor down.¡¯ Zara sighed. ¡®Look, Mira, don¡¯t let it get to you. There¡¯ll be other chances.¡¯


    I thanked her and returned to my thoughts.


    Other than the non-zero probability that Savannah hadpletely lost it, I couldn¡¯t think of a single reason why she¡¯d do that.


    Violet Lin had just barely dodged a bullet with that giarism scandal.


    The fact that she even still had a job at Nyx was a miracle.


    Giving her that spot in thepetition didn¡¯t make any sense, not unless Violet had single-handedly saved Savannah¡¯s mother and dog from a burning house.


    But there it was, happening right in front of me.


    I made my way to Savannah¡¯s office.


    ¡®I gave the spot to Violet,¡¯ she said bluntly.


    ¡®I know. What I don¡¯t know is why. She¡¯s not even close to qualified. Even if I didn¡¯t get it, someone else would, but it sure as hell wouldn¡¯t be her.¡¯


    ¡®Will you sit down? You look like you¡¯re ready to kick that chair halfway across the room. Or me.¡¯ She poured coffee for me. ¡®I¡¯m trying to see if I can get another spot for you. Hold on, okay?¡¯


    I couldn¡¯t help the way my eyebrows pinched together. ¡®Is this some kind of joke?¡¯


    Savannah leaned back in her chair, giving me an unreadable look.


    ¡®Are you still mad about the Instagram stuff?¡¯ I said. ¡®Holding a grudge because I refused to post for thepany?¡¯


    ¡®No. Give me some credit here, Mira. I¡¯m not that petty to sabotage you over something like that.¡¯


    ¡®Then what is it?¡¯ I asked, getting more impatient by the second.


    She paused, like she was weighing whether or not to tell me. Then she sighed. ¡®You know about Eliza ck and the breach of contract, right?¡¯


    ¡®Who doesn¡¯t?¡¯


    ¡®Well, Violet covered thirty million of that. And Nyx had to handle the other twenty,¡¯ she continued, her tone shifting to something like grudging respect. ¡®But that¡¯s not the end of it. Violet¡¯s put up another thirty million, twenty as a working capital loan to Nyx. Interest-free.¡¯


    She repeated the word as if she still couldn¡¯t quite believe it herself. ¡®Interest-free. And the remaining ten million is a gift to thepany. With a single string attached.¡¯


    ¡®A spot in thepetition,¡¯ I said.


    ¡®Exactly.


    ¡®So she¡¯s basically just buying her way in?¡¯ My voice was incredulous. I stood up abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor. ¡®She can¡¯t just pay for it. And even if she does, she¡¯s not going to get anywhere in thepetition.¡¯


    Savannah spread out both hands. ¡®I know Violet¡¯s not exactly top-tier, but it¡¯s thirty million! For that kind of money, I¡¯d sell my firstborn.¡¯


    ¡®You don¡¯t have a kid,¡¯ I pointed out coldly. ¡®You don¡¯t even have a boyfriend.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t remind me of that.¡¯ She winced. ¡®But my point stands.¡¯


    ¡®So, you¡¯re telling me money is more valuable than actual talent?¡¯


    ¡®Look, this is an internationalpetition. Big names from all over the world will be there. Nyx is a small fish in a massive pond. I didn¡¯t expect us to win, no matter who joins. I just wanted us to be a part of it, get the exposure. It could be Violet, it could be you, it could be Tasha the front desk girl.¡¯


    ¡®It may not mean anything to you, but it means a hell lot more to me.¡¯


    She raised her hands in mock surrender. ¡®Mira, I know you¡¯ve got the talent. You¡¯ve probably got more than the rest of thembined, but you have to think about thepany. And it¡¯s not as if I¡¯m saying you can¡¯t join. You can, just not this year. I¡¯ll make sure you get a spot next time, I promise.¡¯


    ¡®But¡ª¡¯ I started to argue, but she cut me off.


    ¡®This is final,¡¯ Savannah said, her tone hardening. ¡®You¡¯re upset, I get it. But you need to look at this from my side, too. I have to keep thepany afloat. Prestige and recognition mean jack all if we can¡¯t even pay the staff. You¡¯re still our chief designer, Mira. And that¡¯s not changing. But on this, I can¡¯t help you.¡¯


    ¡®Fine,¡¯ I said, nodding. ¡®I get it.¡¯


    I left Savannah¡¯s office, my mind made up.


    The spot was Nyx¡¯s to hand out, so there was no point continuing to argue.


    But I wasn¡¯t ready to give up just yet.


    Who said I couldn¡¯t participate as an independent?

 Chapter 113 - 114 Gloater

    <h4>Chapter 113: Chapter 114 Gloater</h4>


    Back at my desk, I opened The Aureate Awards website to see what it took to enter as an individual.


    Violet Lin materialised like a ghost behind me, peering over my shoulder.


    ¡®Ah, checking out the website?¡¯ she said, her tone smug.


    She ced her cup of ck coffee down on my desk with an exaggerated clink, as if making a point.


    ¡®I guess you¡¯ve heard the news, huh?¡¯


    ¡®The way your voice carries, the janitor and his broom on the basement floor would have heard the news.¡¯


    ¡®The spot¡¯s mine.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not deaf.¡¯


    ¡®But you are stubborn. Still trying to get in, huh? Well, I wouldn¡¯t waste time. Unless you¡¯ve got thirty million spare cash lying around.¡¯ She covered her mouth with a dainty hand. ¡®Oops, I forgot. You don¡¯t.¡¯


    ¡®Do you n on buying your way to the finals? I¡¯m afraid all the gold in Fort Knox won¡¯t suffice. You¡¯d have to kill every other contestant.¡¯


    ¡®Still sarcastic, I see. But I guess that¡¯s all you can do now¡ªtalk. Meanwhile, I¡¯ve got things to do.¡¯ She picked off an invisible lint from her dress. ¡®Don¡¯t you worry about me, dear. Worst-case scenario, I¡¯ll just hire a top-tier designer to do the work for me. Simple.¡¯


    I gawked at her. ¡®Does Savannah know that¡¯s your n? Having created one scandal isn¡¯t enough? What, you¡¯ve got some kind of quota to fulfil?¡¯


    ¡®She doesn¡¯t, and she doesn¡¯t need to know. If I win, it¡¯s good for Nyx. If she knows what¡¯s good for her, for thepany, she¡¯ll keep her mouth shut.¡¯


    I looked at Violet in a new light.


    I hadn¡¯t expected her to have this kind of balls, to be this... brazen.


    The office was full of people who could hear every word, and she wasn¡¯t even pretending to keep it quiet.


    Clearly, she¡¯d stopped caring about what people thought after the online bacsh.


    ¡®I suggest you start looking for a new job,¡¯ she said as a parting shot. ¡®You¡¯ll never get ahead of me as long as I¡¯m at Nyx. You have some talent, sure, but if you want to make a name in this industry, you need cash, you need backing. And you?¡¯ She shook her head at me in mock pity. ¡®You have nothing.¡¯


    ¡®And you have coffee breath.¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯ She huffed out a breath against her palm instinctively, then realised she¡¯d been tricked. ¡®That¡¯s low.¡¯


    ¡®Whatever works.¡¯ I shrugged.


    She scowled. ¡®You¡¯re such a juvenile.¡¯


    ¡®Hey, Violet?¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯ She turned around.


    ¡®Would you at least admit that without you, I would have won the spot hands down?¡¯


    Thinking I was fishing for acknowledgement, she allowed like a gracious winner, ¡®Sure, but it doesn¡¯t matter.¡¯


    ¡®So, that means you spent thirty million dors just to be where I would have been. Huh.¡¯ I tapped a finger on my chin. ¡®It¡¯s nice to know how much I¡¯m worth, thanks.¡¯


    Violet¡¯s face went stiff.


    Her lips moved soundlessly, struggling but failing to deliver a clevereback.


    Everybody else in the open office was busy¡ªbusy pretending they were working and not eavesdropping, busy hiding their sniggers behind file folders, busy livestreaming every word that was said in group chats.


    Violet stood there like a statue trying toe alive.


    I handed her coffee cup back to her. ¡®FYI, the final round¡¯s live sketches. I¡¯m afraid your hired designer can¡¯t help you then.¡¯


    She gripped the cup. Coffee sploshed over the rim. ¡®You think you¡¯re so smart. You think you¡¯re so¡ªMarried?!¡¯


    She grabbed my left hand. ¡®Is that a wedding ring?¡¯


    I snatched my hand back. ¡®It is. And it¡¯s also none of your business.¡¯


    ¡®You are married?¡¯ she repeated, still incredulous. Then her eyes narrowed in suspicion. ¡®Wait, today¡¯s Rhys Granger¡¯s wedding day, right? How could¡ª? Ah, I see.¡¯


    ¡®See what?¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s marrying another woman. You must be devastated, so you¡¯ve gone and put on a ring to make yourself feel better, haven¡¯t you?¡¯


    Every pair of ears within a 50-metre radius rotated towards my cubicle like auto-tracking satellite dishes.


    A girl in front of me was tilting her head back so hard her face was parallel with the ceiling.


    ¡®No, I¡¯m not devastated. And yes, I¡¯m married. Is that a problem?¡¯ I scanned Violet from head to heel. ¡®You spotted it the second I put it on, huh? Looks like you¡¯ve been watching me a bit too closely. Got a crush on me, maybe?¡¯


    A few snickers rippled through the office.


    ¡®Don¡¯t be ridiculous,¡¯ she hissed. ¡®And what a load of bullshit. You can¡¯t really be married. Nobody¡¯s heard a thing. And what about the wedding? Announcement in the papers? Or, what, did you elope?¡¯


    Thest thought seemed to give her some satisfaction, as the smug smile returned to her face.


    I held back a sigh.


    Ashton had been wrong; the ring didn¡¯t save me any hassle¡ªit caused more.


    ¡®Why can¡¯t I be married? Just because every man you meet sprints in the opposite direction doesn¡¯t mean I have the same problem.¡¯


    ¡®Fine. Who did you marry, then?¡¯


    ¡®That is none of your business.¡¯


    Violet squinted at me. ¡®Oh, I get it. You¡¯re definitely hiding something. I bet your husband¡¯s some nobody, some broke guy, and that¡¯s why you didn¡¯t have a wedding. Couldn¡¯t afford it. Did you just pick up some random old man off the street?¡¯


    She sneered at the ring on my finger. ¡®That ring doesn¡¯t look like anything special. Where¡¯d you get it, out of a cereal box?¡¯


    The office had gone quiet.


    I didn¡¯t notice it until I realised how loud Violet¡¯sughter had gotten.


    Every other sound¡ªtyping, chair scraping, mouse clicks¡ªwas gone.


    Even the copier seemed to have stopped mid-print.


    Violet was more oblivious than me.


    ¡®What? Cat got your tongue? Can¡¯t think of a usible story now, can you?¡¯


    I looked up at the sound of footsteps.


    More than one person.


    Coming from behind Violet.


    Getting closer.

 Chapter 114 - 115 New Boss

    <h4>Chapter 114: Chapter 115 New Boss</h4>


    Every head turned.


    Two men emerged from the front entrance, followed by a handful of staff members.


    I recognised Rexford Caldwell from his file photo.


    The big boss of Nyx Collective, the man who had never bothered to show his face in the office until now.


    But it wasn¡¯t Rexford who had everyone staring.


    That was Ashton, walking a step ahead of Rexford.


    His face was inscrutable as usual, a neutral mask he wore for business, and his hands were stuck in his trouser pockets.


    Yet something told me he was not happy.


    He reminded me of Bernini¡¯s ¡®David¡¯, right before he slung the fatal stone at Goliath.


    Rexford cleared his throat and pped his hands. ¡®Hello, everyone! May I have your attention for a minute. Some of you know who I am. Rexford Caldwell, majority shareholder of Nyx Collective, this lovely studio you¡¯re working in.¡¯


    He paused, as if expecting apuse.


    Nothing happened.


    He cleared his throat again. ¡®Well, anyway, I need to introduce you to the new owner of Nyx Collective. Mr Ashton Laurent.¡¯


    Hands pped. A few people at first, then more joined.


    Rexford stepped aside, yielding the floor to Ashton.


    ¡®Mr Caldwell, do I look like an old man to you?¡¯


    ¡®Huh?¡¯


    I could see the question mark forming above Rexford¡¯s head, and everybody else¡¯s.


    ¡®Um, of course not, Mr Laurent. You¡¯re younger than me.¡¯ He added in a hurry, ¡®But no less aplished.¡¯ He chuckled. ¡®If you¡¯re considered old, what does that make me, a corpse? Haha.¡¯


    The joke fell t.


    Ashton said, ¡®I don¡¯t think I¡¯m old either. But someone did just call me an ¡°old man¡±.¡¯


    Rexford looked utterly baffled. ¡®Mr Laurent, what do you mean?¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s gaze slid over to me, a small, knowing smile ying at his lips. ¡®Someone just said my wife married an old man. Not just old, but also broke. And a nobody. And picked up from the street.¡¯


    Ah. So he¡¯d heard me and Violet.


    How long had he been standing just outside the door, eavesdropping?


    Rexford¡¯s eyes followed Ashton¡¯s to me. ¡®This... this is Mrs Laurent?¡¯


    Ashton stepped forward, took my hand, gently plucked me up from my chair¡ªthat was when I realised, btedly, I was the only one who¡¯d still remained seated.


    The only person whose jaw dropped lower than Rexford¡¯s was Violet¡¯s.


    ¡®Mr Caldwell.¡¯ Ashton linked arms with me.


    ¡®Yes, Mr Laurent?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m beginning to think that taking over the shares from you is a mistake.¡¯


    ¡®W-what? Of course not! I mean, it¡¯s a solid investment. It¡¯s made reasonable returns for me over the years. Nothing staggering, of course, but the profit¡¯s more than¡ª¡¯


    ¡®You didn¡¯t tell me thepany had such a toxic culture. With colleagues openly ndering each other over personal affairs during work hours, can it really deliver the kind of performance you promised me?¡¯


    Rexford caught on quick. ¡®It¡¯s just one employee, and one employee doesn¡¯t represent Nyx Collective.¡¯ He jabbed a finger at Violet. ¡®Oi, you there. Apologise to Mr Laurent and Mrs Laurent. Now.¡¯


    Violet finally stopped resembling a waxwork figure of herself.


    Her lips made a valiant effort, but her words were mute.


    Savannah, who¡¯de out of her office a minute ago, stepped in. ¡®Mr Laurent, Mr Caldwell, apologies for the unfortunate incident. I¡¯ll speak to Violetter and make sure she¡¯s reprimanded properly. Let¡¯s all move to the conference room, shall we?¡¯


    Rexford jumped in before Ashton could reply. ¡®Yes, yes, Mr Laurent, let¡¯s go have a seat. I¡¯ll show you the quarterly¡ª¡¯


    Ashton didn¡¯t move.


    ¡®I heard something about apetition slot earlier,¡¯ he said tly. ¡®Someone paid for it. How much? I¡¯ll pay triple. That should get my wife a spot.¡¯


    I tugged at his elbow. He didn¡¯t react.


    Rexford wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and shot Savannah a look. ¡®What bloody slot?¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s for The Aureate Awards,¡¯ Savannah exined. ¡®There¡¯s been a misunderstanding. No one needs to pay. I¡¯ll review the internal selection processter.¡¯


    ¡®Like hell you will,¡¯ Rexford snapped. ¡®Give it to her.¡¯ He was about to point a finger at me, but shrank back at thest moment. ¡®Give it to Mrs Laurent.¡¯


    ¡®Yes, of course.¡¯


    Rexford turned to Ashton. ¡®Does that work for you, Mr Laurent?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not the one you should be asking.¡¯


    ¡®Right, right, of course. Mrs Laurent?¡¯ Rexford turned to me, his oily smile reminding me of the fries Ashton bought the other day, pretending it was lunch made by Carmen.


    I wondered if he finished them.


    Probably not.


    ¡®Savannah and I will discuss itter,¡¯ I said.


    Rexford nodded quickly. ¡®Of course, of course. Shall we head to the conference room then?¡¯


    Ashton held up his hand, joined to mine.


    The tiny diamonds in the rings glittered.


    ¡®The rings are custom-made. And yet someone here, who calls herself a jewellery designer, thought it came from a cereal box. If she genuinely can¡¯t tell the difference between bespoke craftsmanship and stic junk, I¡¯d be deeply concerned for anyone foolish enough to hire her.¡¯


    Violet¡¯s face burned crimson. She dropped her eyes to the floor. If there had been a hole in it, she¡¯d have crawled right into it.


    ¡®My wife isn¡¯t in the habit of exining herself. She¡¯s patient, far more than I am, but don¡¯t mistake that for weakness. If anyone here has an issue with her, or thinks they can speak about her disrespectfully, fix your attitude fast. If not, save us both the trouble and hand in your resignation. I don¡¯t tolerate disrespect, especially not towards her.¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s gaze swept over the room like a storm rolling in.


    Everyone in the room could feel the weight of it, including me.


    Rexford muttered under his breath, ¡®How the hell are you running this ce, Savannah? Get rid of that woman immediately.¡¯


    Savannah kept quiet. She knew better than to argue with him now.


    Ashton was staring at Violet again.


    ¡®One more thing.¡¯


    I almost felt bad for Violet.

 Chapter 115 - 116 A Present, Not A Shackle

    <h4>Chapter 115: Chapter 116 A Present, Not A Shackle</h4>


    ¡®This one¡ª¡¯ Ashton gestured at Violet¡ª¡®tried every trick in the book to get an invite to the Laurent family¡¯s g. I heard she wore a ne she ¡°borrowed¡± from Nyx Collective. I wonder if she ever returned it.¡¯


    Violet stiffened, her face going even whiter.


    ¡®What?¡¯ Savannah stared at Violet. ¡®What ne? Violet?¡¯


    ¡®The one that Eliza ck wore a while ago,¡¯ Ashton added helpfully. ¡®Seems to have generated quite a bit of buzz.¡¯


    ¡®Veyra?¡¯ Savannah gasped. ¡®But that¡¯s kept under lock and key. And nobody¡¯s ever borrowed it since¡ª¡¯ She seemed to have finally understood what Ashton meant by ¡®borrowed.¡¯


    ¡®I believe it was taken from your showroom. You might want to check the security footage.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll get right to it.¡¯ Savannah turned to her office, then stopped, turned back. ¡®But our meeting¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Can wait,¡¯ Ashton said. ¡®I¡¯ll just chat with my wife while you sort this out.¡¯


    He looked at Rexford. ¡®Mr Caldwell, when I sign that deal, I expect thepany to be clean. No toxic staff, no lingering scandals, and certainly no employees with sticky fingers. If there¡¯s rot, I expect it gone before the ink dries.¡¯


    ¡®Of course, of course, Mr Laurent.¡¯ Rexford hurried over to join Savannah, cursing a blue streak. ¡®What the hell did I tell you? This is an important day for me, and you fuc...¡¯


    I grabbed Ashton by the arm, pulling him into a corner away from the madness. ¡®How do you know Violet stole the ne? You weren¡¯t even in the room that day.¡¯


    ¡®I checked the footage. It came with audio. I knew exactly what you two were saying back then.¡¯


    ¡®Huh. But she had the footage deleted¡ªI mean, the one here. I saw her the other day... Wait, that¡¯s not what I wanted to ask. So many things are happening at the same time, my brain¡¯s a bit fogged.¡¯


    ¡®Ask ahead.¡¯ Ashton sounded amused.


    ¡®What¡¯s going on? How did you end up being the owner of this ce? You really bought Nyx Collective?¡¯


    ¡®Yes. Surprised?¡¯


    ¡®Well, yeah. I mean, you never said a word to me.¡¯


    ¡®I was going to wait until your birthday to tell you.¡¯


    ¡®My birthday? You mean, you bought thepany for me?¡¯


    He nodded. ¡®Thewyers have drawn up the papers. Your name¡¯s listed as the owner.¡¯


    I stared. ¡®But I can¡¯t ept it. It¡¯s too much.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s not too much for the wife of a man who owns a dozenpanies. It¡¯s just a small studio.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah, small to you.¡¯ I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. ¡®If it¡¯s a surprise, why the visit today?¡¯


    ¡®Wanted to see you,¡¯ he said simply.


    I pretended it didn¡¯t make my heart do a little flutter dance in my chest. ¡®And now you¡¯ve seen it, regret it yet? We¡¯ve got enough infighting and backstabbing here to give Macbeth a run for its money.¡¯


    ¡®All the more reason for you to take over. Clean it up.¡¯


    I thought about it. ¡®Tempting, but, honestly, I wasn¡¯t nning to stay at Nyx for long. I¡¯ve been thinking about moving on. There¡¯s not much future here for me.¡¯ I looked at him. ¡®If you haven¡¯t signed the papers, there¡¯s still time to back out.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s a done deal.¡¯


    ¡®Oh? Oh, well... I don¡¯t know what to say. Now I feel bad.¡¯


    He touched my hand. ¡®Don¡¯t. I¡¯d have bought it anyway. Caldwell¡¯s not wrong; the ce has potential.¡¯


    I wondered how much he¡¯d paid for thepany.


    If he¡¯d given me a heads-up, he could¡¯ve just handed me the cash for the buyout.


    That money would¡¯ve been more than enough to start my own studio.


    Hell, I could¡¯ve done it on my own terms.


    I must¡¯ve had a pretty obvious look on my face.


    ¡®If you want to leave, go ahead,¡¯ he said casually. ¡®I¡¯m not forcing you to stay here.¡¯


    ¡®But you bought the ce...¡¯


    ¡®As a gift to you, not a shackle.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll... I¡¯ll think about it.¡¯


    There were so many things to think about, and this was not the ce or time to do it.


    ¡®Mr Laurent.¡¯ Savannah shuffled up, looking dejected. ¡®I¡¯ve had people poring over the security footage, but, um, there was nothing unusual in the showroom that day.¡¯


    ¡®The footage wasn¡¯t deleted?¡¯ I asked, surprised.


    ¡®No.¡¯ The look she gave me was soplicated, I didn¡¯t bother analysing its dozen emotions. ¡®We retrieved the footage. It showed everything as per normal. No one touched the disy case.¡¯


    ¡®Then you didn¡¯t check thoroughly enough,¡¯ Ashton said.


    Savannah looked like she wanted to argue, but didn¡¯t. She cleared her throat. ¡®Maybe we missed something. Should I check again?¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t bother.¡¯


    I spected, ¡®If there¡¯s no sign of a break-in, they must¡¯ve used old footage to cover it up.¡¯


    Savannah nced nervously at Rexford Caldwell, who was clearly wishing he could vanish into thin air.


    If the footage had been overwritten, there was no way to prove Violet had stolen anything. It was a dead end.


    ¡®If Mrs Laurent says it was overwritten,¡¯ he said, his voice tight, ¡®then it¡¯s been overwritten. We¡¯ll handle this properly,ter. Let¡¯s just head to the conference room, shall we?¡¯


    He gestured with a forced politeness, but Ashton didn¡¯t budge.


    ¡®Mr Caldwell, you¡¯re acting like my wife and I are the ones causing trouble here.¡¯


    Rexford Caldwell¡¯s forehead was sweating. He waved his hands frantically. ¡®No, no, of course I trust you. It¡¯s just that... It¡¯s just a ne, I mean, how much is it worth, really? I know how valuable your time is and I don¡¯t want to waste it. There¡¯s no need to get worked up¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Mr Caldwell, if the security footage from Nyx Collective can be tampered with, I wouldn¡¯t trust you to handle the security system for our new mall.¡¯


    Rexford paled. He snapped into action. ¡®We¡¯ll get to the bottom of this! I¡¯ll have someone here to investigate right now. Whether it was deleted or overwritten, we¡¯ll find the traces!¡¯


    He dialled a number, barking instructions to someone on the other end.

 Chapter 116 - 117 Security Guard

    <h4>Chapter 116: Chapter 117 Security Guard</h4>


    Rexford was eager to reassure what was possibly the biggest client of his career.


    ¡®Mr Laurent, you have my word. I¡¯m meticulous when ites to these things. The mall project will be handled with the utmost care. There¡¯s no way we¡¯ll miss anything.¡¯


    Ashton gave a brief nod. ¡®Tampering with security footage would require the help of someone with authorised ess.¡¯ He looked a question at him.


    Rexford answered, ¡®That¡¯s management and security staff.¡¯


    Savannah jumped in. ¡®I swear I never tampered with anything. I¡¯d stake my job on it! I don¡¯t even know how to do it.¡¯


    Rexford narrowed his eyes at her, then said, ¡®So, that leaves security.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll ask them toe up.¡¯ Savannah was already on her phone.


    Three security guards entered. An older man who seemed to be the team leader, and two younger ones.


    Savannah didn¡¯t waste time. ¡®Which one of you helped Violet Lin tamper with the security footage?¡¯


    The guards looked at each other, their faces nk, no one saying a word.


    Savannah turned her re on Violet Lin. ¡®Come on, speak up. Who helped you delete the footage?¡¯


    Violet¡¯s face went white. ¡®No one. I didn¡¯t do anything! You¡¯re making a huge mistake!¡¯


    I pointed to the youngest of the trio, who still had peach fuzz on his jaw. His name tag said ¡®Jace¡¯.


    ¡®I saw him talking to Violet one night, after everyone else had left the building. She handed him a card. Then they went up to Savannah¡¯s office together.¡¯


    Violet looked ready to murder me with her eyes.


    ¡®You don¡¯t have to take my word for it.¡¯ I shrugged. ¡®Call the cops. Let them handle it.¡¯


    The young guard finally showed a reaction. He looked ready to bolt.


    Rexford was reluctant. ¡®Must we involve the police? That can¡¯t be good for thepany. Think of the publicity. Mr Laurent¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Do it.¡¯


    Rexford sighed and turned to Savannah. ¡®Do it!¡¯


    ¡®Wait!¡¯ Jace shouted. ¡®Don¡¯t call the police! It was me, I helped Violet Lin swap the footage. But she paid me, alright? I was desperate. Please, don¡¯t call the cops! I don¡¯t want to go to jail again!¡¯


    He pped Savannah¡¯s phone from her hand, sending it skidding across the floor. The screen went dark.


    Savannah was too shocked to be angry about her broken phone. ¡®Violet? You really did it?¡¯


    Violet¡¯s murderous re switched targets.


    Jace red right back. ¡®What? You paid me, yeah, but to rig the footage. You didn¡¯t pay me enough to go to jail for you.¡¯


    ¡®Violet!¡¯ Savannah nearly screamed.


    Violet would have bolted from the office if the three-deep crowd hadn¡¯t hemmed her in.


    ¡®Violet? Speak!¡¯


    She shuffled her feet, stammering. ¡®It wasn¡¯t like that. The ne was really popr, I just... I thought I¡¯d try it on, you know? I was going to give it back the next day. No harm done, right?¡¯


    ¡®Then where¡¯s the bloody ne now? The one in the disy case is fake!¡¯


    ¡®I sort of, um, misced it. I can pay for it. I¡¯ll pay ten times its worth. Please, just don¡¯t call the cops! I can make this right.¡¯


    Savannah pinched the bridge of her nose.


    Her eyes darted between Rexford and Ashton.


    Rexford hesitated.


    Ashton said, ¡®My order stands.¡¯


    Rexford gritted his teeth. ¡®Savannah, call the police.¡¯


    ¡®Fine.¡¯ Savannah borrowed a colleague¡¯s phone. ¡®They¡¯ll be here shortly.¡¯


    Jace tried to run, but the entourage that came with Rexford and Ashton blocked him.


    Cornered, he turned and screamed at Violet, ¡®This is all your fault!¡¯


    He glowered at me. ¡®And you, you meddlesome bitch. If you¡¯d kept your mouth shut, none of this¡ª¡¯


    I barely registered Ashton¡¯s movement.


    In a sh, he was no longer at my side but had Jace by the cor, shoving him hard against the wall.


    The guard¡¯s face went puce-coloured in a matter of seconds, Ashton¡¯s grip hard enough to cut off air supply.


    Ashton stood back.


    Jace slipped to the floor, spluttering and gasping.


    Ashton said to Rexford, ¡®When the police get here, get them to run a search on this man. More likely than not, he has a record.¡¯


    Rexford had long given up trying to contain the mess; he simply nodded.


    ¡®Keep an eye on him,¡¯ Ashton ordered his men.


    ¡®I wasn¡¯t trying to run,¡¯ Jace said weakly. ¡®I just wanted to make a call... to my family. For bail.¡¯


    I agreed with Ashton; the man knew too much about police procedure not to have been through it before.


    ¡®I won¡¯t run again, I promise!¡¯ Jace pleaded. ¡®Just allow me one phone call, please? I don¡¯t have my phone with me.¡¯


    Rexford turned to Ashton, asking for direction.


    Ashton said nothing.


    Jace struggled to stand. He limped to the nearestndline and dialled.


    Sweat beaded on his forehead. ¡®Come on, pick up, pick up... You have to save me...¡¯


    The ringing tone went on and on.


    He swore, hung up, and dialled again.


    I stepped forward involuntarily.


    Ashton held me back, a question in his eyes.


    ¡®I need to see the number,¡¯ I whispered to him.


    ¡®You recognise it?¡¯


    I nodded. ¡®I think so, yeah.¡¯


    For a period after my breakup with Rhys, that number frequently appeared in my unanswered calls log.


    Once I knew who it was, I blocked it.


    Jace dialled the number again, hitting redial at least ten times before someone finally picked up.


    ¡®You¡¯ve got to get me out of here!¡¯ He whined. ¡®I got caught messing with thepany footage. The police are on their way. You¡¯ve got to bail me out at the station, quick!¡¯


    I was standing right next to him, but couldn¡¯t hear what the person on the other end said.


    It was just a short sentence, then the call ended with a sharp click.


    Jace swore.


    He was about to call yet again when I stopped him.


    ¡®Who are you calling?¡¯

 Chapter 117 - 118 Half-sister

    <h4>Chapter 117: Chapter 118 Half-sister</h4>


    Jace scowled, visibly annoyed, though the expression vanished the moment he caught sight of Ashton behind me.


    ¡®A friend,¡¯ he muttered, sullen.


    ¡®Who?¡¯ I pressed.


    ¡®Just a friend.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m asking for a name.¡¯


    Irritation flickered in his eyes. He looked like he¡¯d rather punch me than answer me.


    But then he looked me up and down again, and something shifted. A smug glint reced the irritation.


    ¡®I guess it doesn¡¯t matter if you know now. I was calling Cathy.¡¯


    ¡®Cathy? Catherine Vance?¡¯


    He crossed his arms and gave a slow nod. ¡®Yeah, that Cathy. Bet you didn¡¯t see that oneing, eh?¡¯


    So I¡¯d been right. The number was Catherine¡¯s.


    ¡®She¡¯s a friend of yours?¡¯


    ¡®More than a friend, actually.¡¯


    ¡®Girlfriend?¡¯ I guessed.


    Jace snorted. ¡®Hell no. She¡¯s my...¡¯ He paused, watching me closely. ¡®Sister.¡¯


    ¡®Your sister?¡¯ I repeated, incredulous. ¡®You mean like a cousin?¡¯


    ¡®No. I mean actual sister. Same mother. Real deal.¡¯


    ¡®No way.¡¯ I studied his face again. ¡®You look nothing like her.¡¯


    He shrugged.


    ¡®There¡¯s no way you¡¯re her brother. I am her sister¡ªher real sister¡ªand I¡¯ve never heard of you. And don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re some kind of illegitimate son. If the Vance family had a son, my father would¡¯ve brought him home ages ago. The man¡¯s so desperate for an heir he¡¯s practically adopted his brother¡¯s kid.¡¯


    ¡®Who said anything about illegitimate?¡¯ Jace let out another snort. ¡®I¡¯m as legitimate as theye, babe. I¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Watch your mouth,¡¯ Ashton warned. ¡®Say that again and you¡¯ll be picking your teeth out of that wall.¡¯


    Jace¡¯s bravado slipped. He straightened, taking a cautious step back.


    When he spoke again, his tone was considerably meeker.


    ¡®All right, take it easy, man, I don¡¯t mean nothing by it.¡¯


    ¡®Exin,¡¯ I demanded impatiently.


    Jace checked his watch. ¡®Well, seeing as she¡¯s officially Mrs Granger now, I guess it doesn¡¯t hurt if the truthes out.¡¯


    ¡®What truth?¡¯


    ¡®I told you¡ªshe¡¯s my sister. That¡¯s the truth.¡¯


    I opened my mouth, but Ashton¡¯s hand brushed my arm. His voice was low. ¡®Not here.¡¯


    I followed his gaze. All of Nyx¡¯s staff were gathered, eyes wide, phones discreetly raised.


    ¡®Conference room,¡¯ he said to Rexford.


    The man jumped to life and led the way.


    Inside, Ashton gave the order: ¡®Clear the room.¡¯


    Savannah, Ashton¡¯s assistants, and the entire gaggle of curious staff vanished.


    ¡®When the police arrive, ask them to wait,¡¯ Ashton told Rexford, then shut the door.


    It was just me, Ashton, and Jace now.


    Ashton knocked once on the table. ¡®Talk.¡¯


    Jace swallowed, then nced nervously at the door. ¡®What do I get if I tell you?¡¯


    ¡®You get to spend your time in lockup unmolested. That, or we let things take their natural course.¡¯


    Jace swallowed again. ¡®I¡¯m not going to jail. You can help me, right? You¡¯re the famous Mr Laurent.¡¯


    ¡®Yes, I am. And yes, I can. But I won¡¯t lift a finger until you tell my wife what she wants to know.¡¯


    I folded my arms. ¡®Start talking. Or I¡¯ll start talking to the police about what I saw between you and Violet. I¡¯d make a verypelling witness.¡¯


    Jace muttered a curse, slumped into a plush leather chair.


    ¡®All right, all right, I¡¯ll spill. I should start by telling you that Ie from Stonewick, Wessexia.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s where Catherine disappeared to years ago,¡¯ I said.


    He smirked. ¡®Yeah. She came looking for me. For us.¡¯


    ¡®Who are you to her?¡¯


    ¡®I told you. Family. I¡¯m her brother.¡¯


    ¡®Exin!¡¯


    He leaned backzily.


    Ashton rapped a knuckle against the table.


    Jace flinched, straightened. ¡®Catherine¡¯s not a Vance by blood. She¡¯s my older sister. Same mother.¡¯


    I blinked. ¡®What?¡¯


    ¡®My mum and her first husband were travelling through Skyline years ago. She gave birth to a baby here, in a hospital, and then...¡¯ He hesitated.


    Ashton¡¯s stare hardened.


    ¡®She left the baby,¡¯ Jace said, almost flippantly.


    ¡®Why?¡¯ I asked.


    He shrugged. ¡®No clue. She never liked talking about it. From what I gathered, there¡¯d been a fight. Something about him cheating, she wanted out. A baby would¡¯veplicated everything. And Skyline was a foreign city. No one back in Stonewick would know. She could disappear, start fresh.¡¯


    I stared at him, waiting.


    ¡®She left the hospital right after giving birth. Just... vanished. Came home without the baby. Or the husband.¡¯


    ¡®The baby was Catherine?¡¯ I asked, the pieces rearranging themselves in my mind.


    ¡®Yeah.¡¯


    ¡®Then how¡ªwhat...?¡¯ I couldn¡¯t even find the words.


    Jace leaned back again.


    Ashton¡¯s hand hit the table, harder this time.


    ¡®All right!¡¯ Jace snapped, sitting up. ¡®Look, it was years ago. Mum married my dad, had me. Life moved on. But something must¡¯ve started gnawing at her, because she got... weird. Depressed. Obsessive. She¡¯d mutter things now and then, but I didn¡¯t pay much attention. It didn¡¯t have anything to do with me, right?¡¯ He scratched his jaw. ¡®I didn¡¯t know she¡¯d reached out to Cathy.¡¯


    ¡®When was this?¡¯ I asked.


    He frowned. ¡®Five, maybe six years ago.¡¯


    ¡®How did she even find Catherine?¡¯


    ¡®No idea. Probably hired a PI. Someone must¡¯ve looked into the hospital records. From what I gathered¡ªfrom her andter Cathy¡ªit went like this: after Mum left the baby, the staff tried to contact her, but she¡¯d already left the country. Around the same time, another woman gave birth at the hospital. Something went wrong, her baby was stillborn. A nurse or doctor, I dunno which, maybe both, decided to fix the situation.¡¯


    ¡®They swapped the babies,¡¯ I said quietly.


    ¡®Pretty much. Gave the grieving woman a living, breathing, healthy baby. She went home happy. Everyone else washed their hands of it.¡¯


    ¡®That woman was Caroline Vance?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah.¡¯


    I felt a chill creep up my spine.


    ¡®Anyway,¡¯ Jace went on, ¡®somehow Mum tracked Cathy down. Told her everything. Got her toe to Stonewick. They did a DNA test that confirmed Mum¡¯s story. That¡¯s when I first met Cathy. My half-sister.¡¯


    ¡®And then?¡¯

 Chapter 118 - 119 Stayed for Money, Left for Money

    <h4>Chapter 118: Chapter 119 Stayed for Money, Left for Money</h4>


    Jace snorted. ¡®You already know what happened next. Cathy left Skyline. Came to live with us.¡¯


    I was dumbstruck.


    The pieces locked into ce, finally.


    I¡¯d never understood why Catherine left so abruptly when she and Rhys were practically joined at the hip.


    He¡¯d been utterly besotted, and she¡ªwell, she wasn¡¯t indifferent.


    That nonsense excuse about stepping aside so I could have Rhys?


    Franklin and Caroline might¡¯ve bought it, but I never did.


    Catherine was many things, but self-sacrificing wasn¡¯t one of them.


    She didn¡¯t leave for me; she left for her birth mother.


    But that only answered one question and raised a hundred more.


    ¡®Do Franklin and Caroline know?¡¯ I asked.


    Jace shrugged. ¡®Beats me. But from what I figured, no. They don¡¯t know Cathy¡¯s not theirs. And after she found out, she sure as hell didn¡¯t tell them.¡¯


    ¡®Why not?¡¯


    His lips twisted into a smirk. ¡®You really don¡¯t give your sister enough credit. She¡¯s a lot sharper than you think. You know why she decided to stay in Stonewick?¡¯


    ¡®Why?¡¯


    ¡®Perhaps I should mention my mother¡¯s name. Eleanor Montague. Ring any bells?¡¯


    I frowned. ¡®Should it?¡¯


    ¡®It should. The Montagues are old money. Ancient, actually. Fingers in every pie, family tree thicker than a hedge maze. They made a bloody fortune, and Mum inherited the lot. She didn¡¯t have a head for business, never worked a day in her life, so it shrank a bit... but it¡¯s still a substantial pile.¡¯


    I stared.


    He spread his arms. ¡®Which means Cathy, as her daughter, stands to inherit half of it. Instant multimillionairess the day Mum kicks the bucket.¡¯


    I muttered, ¡®So she stayed for the money.¡¯


    ¡®Of course she did. Wouldn¡¯t you?¡¯


    A knock sounded at the door.


    Ashton nced at me.


    ¡®I¡¯ll be fine,¡¯ I said.


    He gave Jace a hard look, then stepped out, leaving the door slightly ajar.


    I turned back to Jace. ¡®Then why¡¯d shee back to Skyline?¡¯


    Heughed bitterly. ¡®Stayed for money, left for the same reason.¡¯


    ¡®What happened?¡¯


    ¡®Turns out, Mum was even worse with money than I thought. Her fund managers had been bleeding her dry for years, and she had no idea. By the time the will was read, the ¡°fortune¡± wouldn¡¯t havested me a month in Vegas. So Cathy packed up and came crawling back to Skyline. And you know what that proved? She was bloody smart to keep the truth from the Vances. Always good to have a backup n.¡¯


    I thought hard. ¡®You said earlier that it doesn¡¯t matter now if the truthes out because Catherine¡¯s Mrs Granger. Why?¡¯


    He gave me a look like I¡¯d asked the stupidest question in the world. ¡®You still don¡¯t get it? Money, of course. The Grangers are loaded, right? Filthy rich. Cathy marries one, and boom, she¡¯s back on top.¡¯


    ¡®But what if the Grangers find out? They could demand a divorce.¡¯


    Knowing Clive Granger, who treated pedigree like a religion, he was probably already frothing at the mouth at the thought of an annulment.


    Jace didn¡¯t look concerned. ¡®Doesn¡¯t matter if they do. Cathy and that Rhys guy didn¡¯t sign a prenup. You know what that means, right?¡¯


    ¡®It means if they divorce, Catherine gets half of everything Rhys owns.¡¯


    ¡®Exactly.¡¯ He grinned. ¡®So either she stays married and she¡¯s rich, or she gets divorced and she¡¯s slightly less rich, but still rolling in it. And with the baby, she¡¯ll get even more. Alimony, child support... it all adds up. Either way, win-win.¡¯


    ¡®That still doesn¡¯t exin what you¡¯re doing here.¡¯


    ¡®What else? Money.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re a gambler?¡¯


    I remembered the Vegasment.


    He didn¡¯t even try to deny it.


    ¡®Yeah. Love the roulette. After Mum passed, Cathy ditched me and my dad and ran back to Skyline. Can¡¯t me her. My dad wasn¡¯t her real father. Her birth father died ages ago. We¡¯re only half-siblings, anyway. But then Dad got sick, and we both needed cash. I¡¯d already blown the pathetic sum Mum left me, so I figured, why not pay dear sis a visit?¡¯


    I frowned. ¡®Why are you working at Nyx Collective? Don¡¯t tell me that¡¯s a coincidence.¡¯


    He shook his head, smug. ¡®Of course not. Cathy got me the job. Told me to keep tabs on you, let her know if you¡¯re workingte or going away for a trip, that sort of thing. Gave her the perfect window to sneak around with Rhys.¡¯


    ¡®So, Rhys has been cheating on me longer than I thought. You¡¯ve been here at least six months.¡¯


    Jace shrugged. ¡®Don¡¯t shoot the messenger. I¡¯m just the tool, remember? Besides, Cathy and Rhys were a couple first. This is just... setting things right again.¡¯


    I was so overloaded with information that I didn¡¯t even have the energy to be offended at his brazenness.


    Jace kept talking.


    I just mechanically filed away the words without really registering their meaning.


    Ashton hade back a while ago and was waiting quietly, his eyes on me.


    I rose slowly.


    ¡®Done?¡¯ he asked.


    I nodded.


    Jace perked up. ¡®Wait. I¡¯ve told you everything. So... you¡¯re gonna let me go, right?¡¯


    Ashton rested a hand on my shoulder and steered me towards the exit.


    Two uniformed officers appeared in the hallway. They nodded at Ashton and stepped inside.


    ¡®Hey¡ªwait, what the hell¡ª¡¯ Jace¡¯s voice rose behind us.


    Then the door shut, cutting him off mid-shout.


    Ashton nced at me. ¡®You okay?¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t know. That was... a lot.¡¯


    ¡®Tell me on the way home?¡¯


    ¡®We¡¯re going home? It¡¯s the middle of the day.¡¯


    ¡®You need rest.¡¯


    ¡®But you need to work.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m on leave today.¡¯


    ¡®Since when?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m the boss. I can take time off whenever I want.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t argue.


    Back at the house, Carmen greeted us with a mug of hot chocte so overloaded with marshmallows and sugar it could¡¯ve revived the dead.


    I thanked her. It revived my brain, which was only half dead.


    We sat down, and I walked Ashton through everything Jace had said, trying to make sense of it myself as I spoke.


    He took it better than I had. Unsurprising, since it wasn¡¯t his family imploding.


    ¡®It exins a lot,¡¯ I said.


    ¡®What do you mean?¡¯

 Chapter 119 - 120 Wedding Disaster

    <h4>Chapter 119: Chapter 120 Wedding Disaster</h4>


    ¡®I always wondered why my parents hated me so much. It wouldn¡¯t have stung so badly if they were awful to everyone, but no, Franklin doted on Preston, his brother¡¯s kid. Caroline smothered Catherine, and after Catherine left, she startedvishing all her affection on Serenna. Her niece. Not me.¡¯


    I smiled bitterly. ¡®For a while in middle school, I actually wondered if I wasn¡¯t their child. Maybe I was adopted. Like in those old telly dramas.¡¯


    Ashton nodded silently.


    ¡®But Jace told me something that finally made it make sense. I wasn¡¯t the swapped baby; Catherine was. Caroline didn¡¯t know she¡¯d given birth to a stillborn. She didn¡¯t know Catherine wasn¡¯t hers. But... maybe on some level, she sensed it. A few yearster, she started having nightmares¡ªbabies crying, babies turning into monsters. Coincidentally, the dreams started after I was born.¡¯


    I stood up and started pacing, unable to keep still.


    ¡®And I think she looked at me and felt it. Knew it, somehow. That I wasn¡¯t hers. She must¡¯ve done a DNA test at some point, confirmed I was Franklin¡¯s, so I stayed. But that seed of doubt never left her. It haunted her. And every time she looked at me, she couldn¡¯t love me. Not properly. Because she thought I didn¡¯t belong to her. The facts may say one thing, but her heart¡¯s telling her another.¡¯


    Ashton reached out and gave my hand a quiet, steadying pat.


    ¡®I¡¯m not sad,¡¯ I said. ¡®It¡¯s just... nice to finally understand.¡¯


    ¡®Jace heard all this from Catherine?¡¯


    I curled up next to him and nodded. ¡®Yeah. Catherine had her suspicions for years, even before her birth mother reached out. She overheard Caroline talking to Franklin once, voicing her doubts. So Catherine did what Catherine does¡ªshe stole hairs from their brushes, paid for a DNA test, and when the results came back... she kept them to herself. That¡¯s why she was so ready to believe Jace¡¯s mother when she turned up. She already knew.¡¯


    ¡®Franklin and Caroline made a mistake,¡¯ Ashton said.


    ¡®They did. They thought I was the swapped baby, but it was Catherine all along.¡¯


    ¡®Are you going to tell them?¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t know. I need time to process everything.¡¯


    ¡®Take all the time you need. You don¡¯t need to go to work. Nyx Collective is going to be in some upheaval for the next few days.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re still buying it?¡¯


    He nodded.


    ¡®What¡¯s going to happen to Jace?¡¯


    Ashton checked his phone. ¡®He¡¯s been arrested as Violet Lin¡¯s aplice, but the charges won¡¯t hold him for long. He¡¯ll likely be out in a few weeks. Bail¡¯s an option too.¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯ll definitely call Catherine for help.¡¯


    ¡®I can block bail, if you want.¡¯


    ¡®Actually, no. Let him have it.¡¯ I smiled faintly. ¡®Imagine the kind of damage a man like Jace can do. Rhys and his family have no idea what they¡¯ve married into... but they¡¯re about to find out.¡¯


    ***


    Mid-afternoon, I was lying on the sofa, staring nkly at the ceiling.


    When my phone buzzed, I nearly let it go to voicemail until I saw the name.


    I answered. ¡®You wouldn¡¯t believe what I just¡ª¡¯


    ¡®You wouldn¡¯t believe what I just saw!¡¯ Yvaine shouted. ¡®Wait, what? What did you say? How could you possibly already know? Am I not the first one calling you?¡¯


    ¡®Heard what?¡¯


    ¡®What happened at Rhys and Catherine¡¯s wedding!¡¯


    ¡®You went to their wedding?¡¯ I sat bolt upright.


    Ashton nced up from the dining table, where he was typing away on hisptop.


    I covered the phone with one hand and said, ¡®I¡¯m taking this upstairs.¡¯


    He nodded.


    I left. It felt wrong to gossip in front of a working man, even if he was technically on leave.


    I tiptoed into my bedroom.


    Yvaine hadn¡¯t stopped talking the entire way.


    ¡®... Mum didn¡¯t want to go, so of course I got stuck with the honour. Appearances and all that. But it turned out to be the best decision I¡¯ve made all week!¡¯


    ¡®What happened?¡¯ I flopped onto the bed, t on my back.


    Yvaine let out another burst ofughter. ¡®The wedding barely started, and both the bride and groom bolted! Can you believe it? Now everything¡¯s a disaster. Half the guests are furious, the other half are rubbernecking. And I¡¯m sitting here with a slice of top-tier wedding cake, calling you live from the scene. Wish you were here, babe.¡¯


    ¡®Start from the beginning. Why did they bolt?¡¯


    ¡®Well, technically, they didn¡¯t. Catherine fainted. Copsed right before the ceremony and got rushed to the hospital. Rhys went with her.¡¯


    ¡®Catherine¡¯s sick?¡¯


    ¡®No clue. I only saw her being bundled into the back of an ambnce. But plenty of guests took photos. You should check online.¡¯


    I opened Instagram and X, scrolling through posts from mutual acquaintances, trying to piece together the story.


    ¡®So,¡¯ Yvaine said, ¡®the ceremony was about to begin. Catherine and Rhys were waiting backstage for the music cue. I got bored and wandered off, stopped somewhere in the hall near them, which gave me an excellent vantage point for watching.¡¯


    ¡®You mean snooping.¡¯


    ¡®Semantics. Do you want to hear the story or not?¡¯


    ¡®Sorry. Please continue.¡¯


    ¡®One of Catherine¡¯s bridesmaids handed her a phone. I couldn¡¯t hear what was said, but her face changed. Dramatically. And this was from behind a pir twenty paces away, so trust me, it was obvious. Whoever called had something big.¡¯


    ¡®When was this?¡¯


    ¡®Maybe two, three hours ago?¡¯


    That would¡¯ve been when Jace tried to call her.


    ¡®She lookedpletely rattled,¡¯ Yvaine went on. ¡®Then Rhys grabbed the phone from her and demanded to know who it was. I caught something about the police. He hung up. Catherine started pleading with him. Her phone rang again. And again. And again. Rhys got mad¡ªreally mad¡ªand forced her to answer it. She did. No clue what she heard, but she went pale. And I mean ghostly. Then she doubled over and clutched her stomach.¡¯


    ¡®Morning sickness?¡¯


    ¡®Looked like pain. Rhys rushed her to a nearby sofa. Lucky for me they didn¡¯t go back to the bridal suite, or I wouldn¡¯t have heard what happened next.¡¯


    ¡®What did you hear?¡¯

 Chapter 120 - 121 Surprise of Their Lives

    <h4>Chapter 120: Chapter 121 Surprise of Their Lives</h4>


    ¡®Rhys called an ambnce,¡¯ Yvaine said, ¡®told his father the wedding had to be dyed, asked him to pacify the guests. You should¡¯ve seen the look on Clive¡¯s face, Mira. He looked like he was going to tear Rhys to pieces, kept shouting ¡°What the hell is this?¡± and ¡°What will the guests think?¡±¡¯


    ¡®Yeah, that sounds like the Uncle Clive I know,¡¯ I muttered.


    ¡®I¡¯m with Rhys on this one, though. I mean, Catherine looked barely conscious, and the sweat on her face was visible all the way across the room.¡¯


    I nodded. ¡®Go on.¡¯


    ¡®Rhys yelled, Clive yelled back. Louisa tried to intervene, but no one listened to her. Then Franklin and Caroline arrived and rushed straight to Catherine. All sorts of shouting followed. Everyone was scrambling. Then the ambnce came. Rhys and his sister Willow rushed out with Catherine on a stretcher. And that¡¯s all I know.¡¯


    She made yummy noises. ¡®I¡¯ve got to get the contact info for whoever made this cake. It¡¯s seriously amazing.¡¯


    ¡®Forget the cake. You won¡¯t believe what I¡¯m going to tell you.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s going to top my story?¡¯ Yvaine scoffed. ¡®Unless you tell me you¡¯re pregnant with Ashton¡¯s baby, I¡¯m not sure anything can shock me at this point, Mira.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t be too sure.¡¯ I jumped off the bed. ¡®I¡¯ll meet you. It¡¯s a long story, and you¡¯ll want to be sitting down for this.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m already sitting down, and I¡¯m sitting with the best slice of wedding cake in all of Skyline City.¡¯


    ¡®Juste. You won¡¯t regret it.¡¯


    ¡®Fine, fine. Looks like the show¡¯s over on my end, anyway. Clive and Franklin are apologising to the guests, probably feeding them some bullshit story about a gas leak or something. Anyway, I¡¯m out. Where are we meeting?¡¯


    I suggested a caf¨¦ we both loved.


    Yvaine nixed the idea. ¡®No. Let¡¯s go to a cake shop. I¡¯ve got a craving now.¡¯


    I quickly changed clothes and headed downstairs.


    Ashton looked up from hisptop. ¡®Just got word from a contact on the force. Someone posted bail for Jace.¡¯


    ¡®Catherine? That¡¯s fast. I thought she was still in the hospital.¡¯ I filled him in on Yvaine¡¯stest scoop.


    ¡®No, not Catherine. It was Rhys Granger.¡¯


    ¡®Ha.¡¯


    Ashton smiled. ¡®You were right. The Grangers are going to get the surprise of their lives once they hear what Jace has to say.¡¯


    ¡®Wish I could be a fly on the wall for that conversation.¡¯


    ¡®Heading out?¡¯ Ashton nced at my handbag.


    ¡®I¡¯m meeting Yvaine for afternoon tea. To catch her up.¡¯


    ¡®Oh, I thought we could have tea together. I asked Carmen to prepare something.¡¯


    ¡®Oh.¡¯ I nced toward the kitchen, my steps slowing. ¡®Um...¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s fine. You need a friendly ear after everything you¡¯ve just been through. I get it.¡¯


    ¡®We could do dinner,¡¯ I offered. Then I stepped over to him, leaned down and kissed him. ¡®Just so you know, you were the first friendly ear I unloaded to, in case you¡¯ve forgotten.¡¯


    This time, his smile was genuine.


    ***


    It took two slices of red velvet, one of chocte fudge, and three cups of the strongest ck coffee for Yvaine to fully process my story.


    The telling took almost an hour, punctuated by ¡®oohs¡¯, ¡®no way¡¯s, and plenty of ¡®WTF¡¯s from Yvaine, some loud enough to draw looks from the other patrons in the cake shop.


    ¡®So, yeah, that¡¯s the story of Catherine Who¡¯s-not-really-a-Vance.¡¯ I leaned back in my chair, my mouth dry from talking for so long.


    Yvaine was digging into a slice of strawberry shortcake when she caught my disapproving look. ¡®I¡¯ve got a sweet tooth and no self-control, sue me.¡¯


    ¡®No thanks, I¡¯ve just got out of two court cases.¡¯ I checked my phone. ¡®I need to go.¡¯


    ¡®But you just got here.¡¯


    ¡®No, I¡¯ve been out for almost two hours. I need to get back.¡¯


    ¡®Back for what?¡¯


    ¡®Dinner.¡¯


    ¡®We can have dinner.¡¯


    ¡®No, thanks, I don¡¯t make a habit of having cake for dinner.¡¯


    ¡®We¡¯ll go somewhere else. You can¡¯t just drop a bombshell like that and leave. I need time to digest. I¡¯ve got questions.¡¯


    ¡®But I promised Ashton I¡¯d¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Hmph.¡¯ She pointed her fork at me. ¡®Ditching your girlfriend for a man? That¡¯s against the girl code.¡¯


    ¡®Fine. I can stay a little longer.¡¯ I sank back into my seat.


    Yvaine shoved her te aside and stood up. ¡®Let¡¯s go.¡¯


    ¡®Where? I just sat down.¡¯


    ¡®To a bar. I need to wash down the info dump with alcohol, not coffee.¡¯


    ¡®But my dinner¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Yeah, yeah, your dinner with Dear Ash, I haven¡¯t forgotten.¡¯ She yanked me up. ¡®Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll get you home in plenty of time for your dinner and sex sess with your man.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s just dinner. No sex.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s sad.¡¯ She bundled me into a taxi and gave an address to the driver. ¡®It¡¯s a new bar, owned by a friend of mine. Just two blocks away. He asked me toe do a tasting and give feedback. Drinks are free.¡¯


    At her suggestion, I ordered a drink called Peat & Zest, a smoky whisky with a twist of lime and something else I couldn¡¯t quite make out.


    I took a sip. ¡®It¡¯s nice.¡¯


    Yvaine, on her third Hugo Spritz in under twenty minutes, was already buzzed. Her eyes sparkled with sugar high and alcohol, mixed with a constant stream of gossip.


    ¡®Word¡¯s spread already.¡¯ She waved her phone in front of me. ¡®People are talking, Mira. Big time.¡¯


    She giggled and nearly toppled off her barstool.


    ¡®Whoa, careful there.¡¯ I grabbed her.


    ¡®People are saying Rhys ran away from the wedding,¡¯ she slurred. ¡®Some say it was Catherine who ran. Others say they had a fight. Plenty had heard the wail of the ambnce. There are so many versions flying around, I can¡¯t even keep track.¡¯


    ¡®Yet, none of them are close to the truth,¡¯ I muttered.

 Chapter 121 - 122 Diabolical Plan

    <h4>Chapter 121: Chapter 122 Diabolical n</h4>


    Yvaine nodded. ¡®Yeah. I wouldn¡¯t have believed it if it weren¡¯t you telling me. I mean,e on, who¡¯d have thought Catherine isn¡¯t really the Vances¡¯ kid? The way they coddle her, you¡¯d think she¡¯s their only child. And this Jace character, her half-brother...¡¯


    ¡®Rhys bailed him out,¡¯ I said. ¡®I guess he called Rhys after Catherine fainted.¡¯


    Yvaine cackled. ¡®Rhys is in for the shock of a lifetime. Thought he married a socialite, turns out she¡¯s a swapped baby with a broke mother, and now she¡¯s saddled with a gambling addict of a half-brother.¡¯


    Her fingers twitched. ¡®Are you sure I can¡¯t post this? Come on, this is the scoop of the year!¡¯


    I shook my head. ¡®Catherine is going to hate your guts if she finds out you exposed the truth about her.¡¯


    Yvaine snorted. ¡®She already hates my guts, not that I care.¡¯ Reluctantly, she set down her phone.


    Mine buzzed. I checked the message. ¡®Violet Lin just got out on bail.¡¯ I tapped a finger on the bar. ¡®Barkeep, another one of these, please.¡¯


    Yvaine raised an eyebrow. ¡®You might want to pace yourself. That drink goes down smooth at first, but you¡¯ll feel itter.¡¯


    ¡®Sage advice from a woman who¡¯s consumed a week¡¯s worth of sugar, cream, and fat... plus god knows how many sses of alcohol.¡¯


    She tapped her ss. ¡®This is basically sparkling water.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah? How many fingers am I holding up?¡¯


    ¡®None, and I¡¯m raising my metaphorical middle one at you. Proof of my totally sober mind¡ªyou just said Violet got out on bail. I deduce her family bailed her out.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re a veritable Sherlock Holmes.¡¯ I raised my ss to her. ¡®Her family¡¯s loaded. This¡¯ll barely touch her. The only thing that¡¯ll really hurt is getting fired from Nyx Collective. After that, she might get cklisted across the entire industry.¡¯


    ¡®Good,¡¯ Yvaine said, pping her leg with satisfaction. ¡®She deserves it. Same goes for Rotten Rhys. Now that the marriage is official, he¡¯s stuck with Catherine Not-a-real-Vance, and with heres that man, Jack. I¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Jace,¡¯ I corrected.


    ¡®Whatever. From what you¡¯ve told me, that guy¡¯s trouble. That¡¯s a diabolical n he¡¯s got. Rhys can¡¯t get out of the marriage now without coughing up half of his money, and we¡¯ll know how much he loves parting with it. Not to mention the hit to his reputation. He¡¯s going to be the butt of jokes in Skyline for years toe if people know he married a woman who¡¯s a fake and broke.¡¯


    I nodded. ¡®That¡¯s why I don¡¯t want you to post about it. Rhys¡¯s father will do everything in his power to crush this story. Once it gets out, the Granger name bes a joke.¡¯


    Yvaine¡¯s smile grew wider. ¡®I just want to see Rhys¡¯s face when he realises he¡¯s trapped with that mess. I can¡¯t stopughing just thinking about it.¡¯


    She nced around as several more customers trickled in. ¡®What do you think of this ce, huh?¡¯


    ¡®Your friend picked a good location,¡¯ I said.


    It was only mid-afternoon on a weekday, but the ce already had a solid crowd.


    ¡®Yeah, he called it Crossroads. Told me he noticed how, back when this was still a bakery, everyone in the area¡ªdoing groceries, going to work, out for a jog¡ªwould pass by this corner. So he bought it and turned it into a bar. Now it draws all kinds of people. Joggers, office workers, retirees, even moms on the school run.¡¯


    ¡®And people you don¡¯t want to see,¡¯ I muttered.


    ¡®Hmm?¡¯


    I tilted my head towards the door.


    A man just walked in.


    Rhys Granger didn¡¯t notice us at first.


    He looked like he¡¯d already had a few too many before stepping inside.


    Lurching forward, he staggered to the counter and mmed a fist down. ¡®Vodka. Double¡ªno, never mind, just bring the bottle.¡¯


    Both our cocktail sses jumped.


    ¡®Sheesh,¡¯ Yvaine muttered. ¡®Of all the bars in town...¡¯


    ¡®Yvaine?¡¯ Rhys turned his head slowly in a half circle, like a slow-mo sloth.


    The flush on his cheeks told me just how much he¡¯d had.


    He was still in his wedding tux, though it now looked like it had been through multiple spin cycles in a tumble dryer.


    ¡®Mirabelle.¡¯ His gaze was bleary and struggling to focus. ¡®What are you doing here?¡¯


    ¡®I could ask you the same thing,¡¯ I said, moving my drink further away.


    ¡®Yeah, shouldn¡¯t you be on your way to your honeymoon?¡¯ Yvaine added sweetly.


    ¡®Honeymoon?¡¯ Heughed bitterly. ¡®Catherine¡¯s in the hospital.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah, I heard, sorry about your wife.¡¯ Yvaine emphasised thest word.


    Rhys didn¡¯t register the jibe. He wobbled over and dropped himself onto the barstool on my other side.


    ¡®I want to talk to you.¡¯


    ¡®But I don¡¯t want to talk to you.¡¯ I tried to shift away, but the barstool was bolted down. Maybe Yvaine¡¯s bar-owner friend should fix that.


    ¡®Did you know?¡¯


    ¡®Know what?¡¯ I leaned back, wincing as his alcohol breath hit me.


    ¡®Did you know that Cathy¡¯s not... not Cathy?¡¯


    ¡®I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about,¡¯ l lied.


    ¡®She never told me she had a...¡¯ He made a face like he smelled something rotten. ¡®A half-brother.¡¯


    Yvaine smirked behind him and winked at me.


    ¡®I¡¯ve been yed, Mira. I married the wrong Vance. No, she¡¯s not... she¡¯s not even a Vance! She¡¯s...¡¯ Rhys reached for my hand. ¡®I married the wrong woman, Mira.¡¯


    I yanked my hand back and gave his shoulder a sharp smack. ¡®Keep your hands to yourself. And tell your story to someone else. I¡¯m not your therapist.¡¯


    ¡®But you¡¯ve got to listen!¡¯ He whined. ¡®You need to know¡ªCathy, she¡¯s not your sister. She¡¯s... I don¡¯t even know who the hell her real parents are. That Jace guy? He¡¯s a loser. A deadbeat. A gambler. And now he¡¯s my brother-inw. He got arrested. I had to bail him out. And now he¡¯s moved himself into my house. Sitting on my couch. Eating my food. Watching my TV. I can¡¯t...I just... How could Cathy do this to me?!¡¯


    ¡®So, what, if Catherine¡¯s not a Vance, suddenly you don¡¯t love her anymore?¡¯ I sneered.


    As much as I hated Catherine, I felt a tiny stab of pity for her if this was the kind of man she married.


    Rhys just stared at me, ck-jawed.


    He didn¡¯t seem to know what to feel.


    And to be honest, neither did I.


    But I wasn¡¯t about to sit here and coddle him.


    ¡®Let¡¯s go.¡¯ I stood.


    ¡®You can¡¯t leave!¡¯

 Chapter 122 - 123 Human Roadblock

    <h4>Chapter 122: Chapter 123 Human Roadblock</h4>


    Rhys shook his head so hard he almost toppled off the barstool.


    His bloodshot eyes were fixed on my hand as he reached for it again.


    ¡®Stop it!¡¯ I snapped, yanking it back. ¡®Don¡¯t touch me.¡¯


    He looked so damn pathetic.


    He opened his mouth¡ªto apologise, maybe¡ªbut all that slurred out was, ¡®You¡¯ve got to lisss...¡¯


    I gave him a shove. Not hard.


    But he still went down like a sack of wetundry, copsing sideways off the stool and hitting the floor with a thud.


    ¡®For God¡¯s sake,¡¯ I muttered.


    He made no effort to get up. Just sat there, back against the bar, legs syed, head drooping onto his chest.


    Yvaine poked him with the tip of her high heel. ¡®He¡¯s not dead, is he?¡¯


    ¡®Still breathing... I think.¡¯ I leaned down for a closer look and nearly toppled over myself.


    The room swayed. Suddenly, there were two Rhyses swimming in my vision.


    ¡®Whoa, Mira.¡¯ Yvaine caught me, steadying me with an arm. ¡®Told you that drink would hit hard. Should¡¯ve taken it slower. Come on, sit down.¡¯


    She led me to a sofa and sat me down gently. ¡®How many fingers am I holding up?¡¯


    I shook my head, trying to blink the haze away.


    The room doubled again. Everything had a weird, dyed echo to it.


    I wasn¡¯t drunk, but I was definitely not sober.


    ¡®Time to get you home,¡¯ Yvaine decided.


    Suddenly, Rhys snapped awake.


    His upper body lurched forward as he made a grab for my ankle. ¡®Mirabelle, I...¡¯


    I kicked him. The motion sent another dizzy wave through me.


    Rhys rolled over, then started wriggling along the floor like a worm.


    Yvaine kicked his leg. ¡®Move aside.¡¯


    Rhys didn¡¯t. He sprawled out wider across the floor like a human starfish.


    His hand slithered out again, reaching for my ankle. ¡®You can¡¯t leave. You can¡¯t just walk away from me like this...¡¯


    I stood up¡ªwell, more like swayed upright¡ªand raised my foot to stomp on his hand. But the floor kept shifting under me.


    ¡®Yvaine,¡¯ I said, blinking hard.


    ¡®Hmm? Want me to kick him for you?¡¯


    ¡®No. Just... are you seeing what I¡¯m seeing?¡¯


    ¡®Seeing what?¡¯


    ck coat. White T-shirt. Grey trousers.


    He looked just like any other bar patron, except for the face.


    That face stood out anywhere.


    He stepped closer.


    I reached out, the motion throwing me off bnce.


    He caught me.


    ¡®Ashton!¡¯ Yvaine¡¯s surprised shout confirmed I wasn¡¯t hallucinating.


    Ashton¡¯s solid warmth double-confirmed it.


    ¡®What¡¯s going on?¡¯ he demanded.


    ¡®What are you doing here?¡¯ Yvaine asked at the same time.


    ¡®Let¡¯s get out of here,¡¯ I said,gging behind.


    Yvaine picked up the exnation. ¡®We came out for a drink. Just a quick one. I was going to get Mira home right after. I know she¡¯s got dinner ns with you. But then this guy¡¯¡ªshe jabbed a toe at Rhys¡ª¡®rolled in drunk and miserable and started pouring out his soul. Mira wouldn¡¯t give him the time of day, so hey down on the floor and tried to roadblock us.¡¯


    ¡®I got a text from Cassian. He told me Mira¡¯s here.¡¯ Ashton answered Yvaine¡¯s earlier question before turning to me. ¡®Can you walk?¡¯


    ¡®Yes,¡¯ I said, attempting a demonstration.


    Not a straight line, but definitely forward-ish.


    The world was still moving through gauze. I could hear everything and see everything, just not all in the right order.


    Rhys was still flopping about on the floor.


    Ashton wrapped an arm around my waist and stepped over him¡ª


    And nted a foot down on Rhys¡¯s outstretched arm.


    Rhys let out a sharp yelp.


    Ashton nced at Yvaine. ¡®You said she only had a quick one.¡¯


    Yvaine shrank under his inquisitorial gaze. ¡®Well, yeah, two sses, tops. But it was a rather strong blend.¡¯


    She added sheepishly, ¡®I told her to go slow.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m fine,¡¯ I mumbled. ¡®Hold up your hand. I¡¯ll count your fingers.¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s voice dropped another ten degrees. ¡®What¡¯s your address? I¡¯ll drop you off.¡¯


    Yvaine backed away. ¡®Nah, no need. I¡¯m good, really. I can walk. Totally. And this ce is owned by a friend. Don¡¯t worry about me, just take care of Mirabelle.¡¯


    Ashton gave a curt nod.


    Everything blurred again; I was scooped off the floor.


    My vision swam upwards until I was looking up at his chin, lightly dusted with stubble.


    ¡®Mirabelle.¡¯ Rhys groaned from the floor. ¡®I need to talk to you.


    Ashton walked right over him.


    Rhys yelped, curled into a ball, but still managed to cling to Ashton¡¯s ankle with one hand.


    Ashton calmly stomped down on it. Ground it into the floor.


    Rhys howled.


    The cool evening air pped some rity into me as we stepped out of the bar.


    I blinked a few times. Things sharpened a little.


    Ashton slid me into the back seat of the car, then climbed in after me.


    That was when I noticed he was wearing indoor slippers.


    The drive was quiet.


    The car felt like a tomb, only the hum of the engine filling the silence.


    I wasn¡¯t sure when I nodded off. But eventually, the awkward seat angle woke me again.


    I kept sliding off the leather.


    So I inched closer to Ashton and dropped my head on his thigh.


    It was a hard pillow, but better than sliding into the footwell.


    From this angle, all I could see was his Adam¡¯s apple and the underside of his jaw, clenched tight.


    The car braked suddenly.


    I almost rolled right off him, but his hand shot out and caught me.


    ¡®Drive slower,¡¯ he barked at the driver.


    ¡®Sorry, boss.¡¯


    I clung to his arm, waited for the nausea to roll past, then squirmed a bit, trying to find a morefortable spot.


    The knees were hard and digging into the back of my neck.


    The thighs were solid as granite.


    I shifted higher up.


    His hand mped down on my hip.


    A warning: stop wriggling.


    His other hand brushed my hair back from my forehead, then began gently massaging my temple.


    It felt nice.


    I made a pleased little hum to let him know he should keep doing that.


    My eyes fluttered shut, lulled by the soothing pressure of his fingers.


    I might have fallen asleep again, if not for¡ª


    ¡®Do you still have feelings for him?¡¯

 Chapter 123 - 124 Feelings for You

    <h4>Chapter 123: Chapter 124 Feelings for You</h4>


    It took me a long minute to figure out the question wasn¡¯t a dream.


    Because Ashton repeated it. ¡®Do you still have feelings for him?¡¯


    ¡®Who?¡¯


    ¡®Rhys.¡¯


    ¡®Rhys who?¡¯


    ¡®Granger.¡¯


    ¡®Granger who?¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s chest rumbled overhead.


    I blinked, trying to focus. ¡®Who¡¯s that?¡¯


    His grip on me loosened just a bit. ¡®A nobody.¡¯


    ¡®Who¡¯s a nobody?¡¯


    ¡®Never mind.¡¯


    Mygging brain finally caught up to the night¡¯s events andnded on a question I probably should have asked ten minutes ago: ¡®What are you doing here?¡¯


    ¡®Where? This is my car. We¡¯re going home.¡¯


    ¡®At the bar.¡¯ I fumbled for my phone.


    ¡®What do you need?¡¯ He dug it out of my handbag for me.


    ¡®To check. For a bug. I didn¡¯t tell you I was at that bar.¡¯ I didn¡¯t even know I was going to be at that bar.


    ¡®I didn¡¯t bug your phone.¡¯ A pause. ¡®Though, now that you mention it... Cassian texted me. Sent me a photo of you and Yvaine and... Rhys.¡¯


    ¡®I wasn¡¯t with Rhys.¡¯ I frowned.


    ¡®I know.¡¯ His voice softened. ¡®It¡¯s just... seeing him there...¡¯


    ¡®Look,¡¯ he said after a beat, ¡®I¡¯m not trying to control you. It¡¯s just, Rhys is married, and with all the mess surrounding him right now, if anyone sees you two together... it could getplicated.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not with him,¡¯ I said again, hating the idea.


    I shifted in Ashton¡¯s arms, trying to pull myself up to eye level.


    That failed, so I yanked him down instead.


    ¡®Okay, I think I remember who Rhys Granger is now.¡¯


    ¡®Who is he?¡¯


    ¡®Gum on my shoe. Can¡¯t get rid of him everywhere I go. Keeps popping up.¡¯


    ¡®I like that answer.¡¯


    I yawned. ¡®He wants a refund, you know.¡¯


    ¡®What refund?¡¯


    ¡®On the wedding. Catherine¡¯s not who she ims to be, so he doesn¡¯t want her anymore. He wants a re, re¡ª¡¯ I snapped my fingers. ¡®I forgot the word. A return. Yes, a return.¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s fingers, still massaging my temple, stopped.


    ¡®He wants a return? To the old status quo? To... you?¡¯


    Rolling my eyes took too much effort when drunk, so I settled for a derisive snort, which came out like a piggie grunt.


    ¡®He wishes.¡¯


    ¡®Do you wish the same thing?¡¯


    ¡®Wish what thing?¡¯ I lost track of the conversation.


    ¡®Getting back together with Rhys.¡¯


    ¡®Why do you keep bringing him up?¡¯ I made a face.


    ¡®Because he keeps showing up in your life, and I¡¯m afraid you...¡¯ He muttered something I didn¡¯t catch.


    ¡®I what?¡¯


    ¡®Never mind.¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯ I tickled his chin. He was staring out the window. ¡®Are you mad?¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯


    ¡®Your jaw says otherwise.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not mad. Not at you.¡¯


    ¡®H¡¯mm.¡¯ After a beat, I said, ¡®Ash.¡¯


    He looked down.


    I looped an arm around the back of his neck, pulled him close, and nted a loud smack on his lips. ¡®Mwah! There. Don¡¯t be mad.¡¯


    Then I released him. Job done.


    He did something. The backseat divider clicked into ce.


    Then he was back. In my face. Lips on mine.


    It was immediate. It was forceful.


    It was sucking all the air right out of my lungs.


    I couldn¡¯t breathe except by borrowing the air from him.


    He shared. Generously.


    Ashton kissed me like he had things to say but mere words wouldn¡¯t suffice.


    I kissed back like I understood.


    My tongue tingled, this time not from alcohol.


    I pushed him back, panting. ¡®No.¡¯


    His lips were still parted, eyes zed over with lust, but his hands caressing my waist stilled. ¡®Sorry, I¡ª¡¯


    ¡®No, I don¡¯t.¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯


    I took a moment to catch my breath. ¡®No, I don¡¯t have feelings for him.¡¯


    Then I added, ¡®Your question. Earlier. You asked if I still have feelings for him. The answer¡¯s no.¡¯


    For a second, everything was still.


    Then, with a quiet exhale, he murmured, ¡®Mira.¡¯


    The way he said my name made my ears tingle.


    I flopped back down onto hisp like a limp rag. ¡®For Rhys Granger, you know. I don¡¯t have feelings for Rhys Granger.¡¯


    He chuckled, chest rumbling. ¡®I know, Mira. I get it now.¡¯


    ¡®I have feelings. Just not for him.¡¯


    ¡®H¡¯mm.¡¯ He nodded, patting my hand like he was soothing a toddler.


    ¡®For you.¡¯


    ¡®H¡¯mm¡ªwhat?¡¯


    ¡®I have feelings for you.¡¯ I licked my lips, savouring the aftertaste of that kiss. ¡®For you. Ashton Laurent.¡¯


    ¡®Yes, that¡¯s my name.¡¯ His voice had gone low.


    ¡®I have feelings, and those feelings are for you, Ashton Laurent,¡¯ I summarised.


    ¡®I hear you. Loud and clear.¡¯ He leaned in again, but I pushed his face away.


    ¡®No oxygen,¡¯ I said. ¡®Do itter.¡¯


    Heughed and straightened. ¡®All right.¡¯


    The car stopped.


    Ashton carried me into the house.


    The driver might have been watching, but I no longer cared.


    Who wanted to walk on their own two legs when they could be carried everywhere?


    My head was still swimming, but the room wasn¡¯t double anymore.


    Ashtonid me down on the bed.


    I sighed into the soft mattress.


    ¡®Shower?¡¯ he asked. ¡®Or dinner? Rest? I¡¯ll ask Carmen to make you something. Soup, maybe.¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯


    ¡®No soup, or no shower?¡¯


    ¡®No nothing.¡¯ I kicked off the nket he¡¯d just tucked over me. ¡®Hot.¡¯


    ¡®Do you want some water?¡¯ He brought me a ss.


    I drained it.


    ¡®More?¡¯


    I nodded.


    He fetched another ss.


    I drained that, too.


    ¡®Still thirsty?¡¯ He frowned. ¡®What kind of drink did you order at that bar?¡¯


    ¡®Drink, yes, I want.¡¯


    ¡®No. I can get you more in water.¡¯


    ¡®in.¡¯ I wrinkled my nose. ¡®nd. Meh.¡¯


    ¡®Or sparkling. Or lemonade?¡¯


    ¡®I know!¡¯ I snapped my fingers. ¡®I want...¡¯


    ¡®Yes?¡¯


    I yanked him to me and kissed him. ¡®You.¡¯

 Chapter 124 - 125 Ashton’s POV: Clarity

    <h4>Chapter 124: Chapter 125 Ashton¡¯s POV: rity</h4>


    Ashton¡¯s pulse surged, his body burning with an intensity that made him want to tear off his shirt, shred his coat, and set fire to his trousers.


    The source of the heat was currently twined around him like a vine, rubbing against him like a cat marking its territory.


    After she¡¯d kissed him¡ªlong, hard, like she was reiming all the oxygen he¡¯d stolen from her earlier¡ªshe¡¯d hung to him like a tree sloth.


    He¡¯d held her there, standing.


    They stayed like that until she was beginning to nod off.


    Gently, he tried to pry her hand from his neck.


    ¡®Come on, you need sleep,¡¯ he murmured, voice rough.


    ¡®No...¡¯ she protested, her grip tightening on him. ¡®Clothes. Off.¡¯


    ¡®You want me to take off your clothes? Change you into pyjamas?¡¯ He was dying to oblige.


    ¡®No. You. Clothes. Off.¡¯


    ¡®Mira¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Off.¡¯ She began demonstrating, as though his hesitation was due to ack of understanding.


    Ashton sighed as she popped off the top two buttons of her silk blouse.


    ¡®At least this time it¡¯s your own clothes,¡¯ he muttered. Not that that made it any better.


    He leaned forward, still holding her, until her back met the mattress.


    She locked both legs around him. ¡®Your turn.¡¯


    ¡®You want me to take off my clothes?¡¯


    ¡®Mh-hmm.¡¯


    ¡®Why?¡¯


    ¡®Hot.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not feeling hot,¡¯ he lied.


    ¡®Me. Hot.¡¯


    ¡®I can help you change¡ª¡¯


    To his disappointment, she let go, then immediately began rolling across the bed. ¡®Hot.¡¯


    She kicked off the nket, then the pillows, then the bolster.


    She attacked the sheets next.


    ¡®Mira.¡¯ Ashton eyed the bathroom.


    Was she up for a shower? Highly doubtful.


    She rolled and rolled, nearlyunching herself right off the bed until he caught her mid-flop.


    She blinked up at him, then knelt, arms wrapping around his midsection. ¡®Don¡¯t go.¡¯


    Her voice cracked with need.


    She took his hand and guided it to her corbone.


    The heat of her skin lit a spark in his palm.


    Ashton hesitated, his fingers lingering, but his restraint held.


    Barely.


    He wouldn¡¯t go lower. Even though every nerve screamed for it.


    He watched colour bloom along her skin, spreading from her neck.


    Then she tugged at him again, hard, and they tumbled onto the bed together, himnding on top of her.


    Her mouth was parted, warm, ready.


    She writhed beneath him, flushed, breath shallow, the pulse at her throat thudding wildly.


    His restraint snapped.


    He kissed her. Deeply. Hungrily. Repeatedly.


    Her thighs locked around his hips. Her nails scraped the back of his neck. She tasted like wine.


    He felt her heartbeat everywhere.


    He kissed and kissed and kissed. Only stopped until her voice broke against his ear.


    Breathless, she clung to him. Sweat dampened her corbone. Her eyes fluttered shut, skin burning under his.


    He braced both hands on the mattress, hovering just far enough not to touch her.


    ¡®Is that what you wanted?¡¯


    ¡®Yes.¡¯ She opened her arms for him. ¡®More.¡¯


    ¡®Do you want me to stay?¡¯


    ¡®Yes.¡¯


    ¡®To spend the night?¡¯


    ¡®Yes.¡¯


    ¡®Are you sober right now?¡¯


    ¡®Yes.¡¯ Her eyes were closed.


    His pulse throbbed harder.


    Still, he didn¡¯t move.


    ¡®Do you know who I am?¡¯


    No response.


    He stared at her face. ¡®Mira. Do you know who I am?¡¯


    ¡®Yes.¡¯


    ¡®What¡¯s my name?¡¯


    ¡®Ash.¡¯


    ¡®Ash what?¡¯


    ¡®Ash... Ayesha.¡¯


    Ashton breathed in, exhaled. ¡®What¡¯s your name?¡¯


    ¡®What¡¯s what?¡¯ She hadn¡¯t stopped moving.


    She¡¯d already yanked off his coat and now attacked his shirt.


    Unfortunately, it wasn¡¯t a button-down.


    Just a in white tee.


    She grabbed a fistful of fabric and attempted to rip it in two.


    ¡®What¡¯s your name?¡¯ he asked again.


    She paused. Then resumed.


    ¡®What¡¯s your name?¡¯


    A beat. Then: ¡®... I don¡¯t know.¡¯


    The heat in his chest turned to ice.


    He could¡¯ve gone ahead.


    He could¡¯ve taken what she was offering and let her wake up tomorrow thinking it had all been her idea.


    But he didn¡¯t.


    He wasn¡¯t going to take a single fucking risk with her.


    He wanted her awake. Fully conscious. Wanting him with rity. Saying his name with that sharp tongue and those clever, filthy lips.


    He exhaled and pushed himself up.


    His arms ached from holding himself back.


    His skin was burning where hers had touched it.


    He grabbed the duvet off the floor and draped it over her, leaving only her face exposed.


    She mumbled something, trying to roll over.


    He tucked the nket under her shoulders. Then her sides. Then under her legs. Like she was a parcel he was wrapping for safekeeping.


    She stilled.


    Her breathing deepened.


    Ashton waited, watching her face.


    When she started to drift, hershes resting against her cheeks, he finally loosened his hold.


    He stood.


    Her phone rang from inside her handbag.


    He paused, then pulled it out.


    No name. Just a number he didn¡¯t recognise.


    He muted it.


    The screen went dark.


    Three secondster, it lit up again. Same number.


    Once could be a mistake. Twice meant someone needed something.


    He looked over at Mirabelle. She was curled up under the duvet. One arm had slipped out, fingers twitching slightly against the pillow.


    Ashton took the phone and stepped out of the bedroom, the door closing silently behind him.


    The third call came.


    He answered.


    ¡®Mirabelle! Finally. I¡¯ve been trying to reach you¡ªIt¡¯s Rhys!¡¯


    As soon as Ashton heard the voice, his jaw clenched.


    ¡®You blocked my old number,¡¯ Rhys went on, loud and breathless. ¡®This is a new one. I didn¡¯t finish what I needed to¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Then say it to me,¡¯ Ashton cut in.


    Silence.


    Then: ¡®Ashton Laurent?¡¯


    Rhys¡¯s tone had darkened, strained, furious. ¡®Why do you have Mirabelle¡¯s phone?¡¯


    ¡®Because she¡¯s my wife. Problem?¡¯


    Rhys swore. ¡®Put her on. Now.¡¯


    Ashton leaned back against the hallway wall. ¡®She¡¯s sleeping. She¡¯s tired. Whatever you want to say, say it to me. I¡¯ll pass it on.¡¯


    Another long pause. Then: ¡®She¡¯s sleeping? In your house?¡¯


    Ashton chuckled. ¡®She¡¯s my wife. Whose house should she be in?¡¯


    He added, lying easily: ¡®She¡¯s in our bed right now.¡¯


    He should¡¯ve hung up the moment he heard Rhys¡¯s voice.


    Normally, he would have.


    Tonight, he wanted to hear the bastard crack.


    He nced down at the strain in his trousers.


    There was a faint clicking on the line¡ªRhys, gnashing his teeth.


    ¡®So?¡¯ he asked again. ¡®What¡¯s so urgent you had to ring my wife in the middle of the night?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not talking to you,¡¯ Rhys snapped. ¡®I want to see her. In person. Can you tell her that?¡¯


    ¡®Sure.¡¯


    Ashton ended the call, deleted the record, and blocked the number.


    He returned to the bedroom and set the phone gently on the nightstand.


    Mirabelle hadn¡¯t stirred. One cheek was still flushed from the alcohol.


    He stood there longer than he meant to.


    Then turned away.


    He headed downstairs to the gym.


    His body was coiled tight and had nowhere to unload it.


    He messaged Dominic.


    [Rhys Granger¡¯s got too much time on his hands. Give Granger Development some problems to solve.]


    He had pushed for the Rhys-Catherine wedding, assuming the man would shut up and behave once married to the woman he¡¯d betrayed Mirabelle for.


    But he hadn¡¯t ounted for Jace. Or the size of Catherine¡¯s lie. Or the fallout.


    Now this.


    Rhys was sniffing around again.


    Ashton wouldn¡¯t allow it.


    He stayed in the gym for half an hour, hammering the punching bag until his knuckles throbbed.


    Then he took a freezing shower.

 Chapter 125 - 126 Roughed Up

    <h4>Chapter 125: Chapter 126 Roughed Up</h4>


    Sunlight hit my face like a p.


    I cracked my eyes open and immediately regretted it.


    My mouth was dry. My back ached. My thighs felt like I¡¯d done squats in six-inch heels, which I hadn¡¯t.


    I couldn¡¯t move. I was wrapped in the duvet like a corpse.


    I groaned, kicked the damn thing off, and sat up.


    My hair stuck to the side of my face. My left earring was gone.


    The room smelled like fresh linen and faint cologne¡ªAshton¡¯s.


    Right. He¡¯d dragged me out of the bar.


    Everything after that was static.


    I grabbed my phone from the nightstand.


    Eight-twelve.


    My head throbbed behind my eyes.


    I showered, threw on clean clothes, and made it halfway to the stairs before my phone buzzed.


    I picked up. ¡®Yvaine. I¡¯m never going to order that drink again¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Mira, are you with Ashton?¡¯ Her voice was raspy. Shaky. ¡®Tell him toe. Cassian¡¯s about to get his head knocked off. Emmett¡¯s gone psycho!¡¯


    ¡®Wait, what? Slow down.¡¯


    Yvaine sniffled. She sounded like she¡¯d been crying.


    She was mumbling and barely coherent. I couldn¡¯t catch half of it.


    ¡®Okay, slow down. I¡¯m listening. Just¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Come! Hurry!¡¯ Her voice dropped to a scared whisper.


    Then she hung up.


    I redialled. No answer.


    I ran downstairs barefoot.


    Ashton sat on the sofa with one leg crossed, coffee in one hand, tablet in the other.


    He looked up the second I reached the bottom step. ¡®Something happen?¡¯


    I told him everything in one breath. Yvaine. Cassian. Emmett. The call cutting off.


    He stood and set his mug down. ¡®Did she say where?¡¯


    ¡®Lakeside Reserve. Her brother just bought her a vi out there. They¡¯re all at the house.¡¯


    ¡®Alright. Let¡¯s go.¡¯


    He drove. I sat beside him, phone in my hand, trying Yvaine again. No answer.


    He frowned at the windscreen. ¡®What¡¯s Yvaine doing with Cassian?¡¯


    I sighed. ¡®She told me that after we left the bar, she called him to pick her up. He brought her to the vi, and apparently... he stayed the night.¡¯


    Ashton raised an eyebrow.


    ¡®Emmett flew back this morning. Went to drop something off. Rang the bell. Cassian opened the door. Shirtless. Emmett saw red. That¡¯s when the punching started.¡¯


    Even saying it out loud didn¡¯t make it make sense.


    ¡®I still can¡¯t believe it,¡¯ I muttered. ¡®Cassian and Yvaine? I¡¯ve never seen them act like they even liked each other.¡¯


    Ashton nodded slowly. ¡®Last I checked, they couldn¡¯t stand each other.¡¯


    ¡®Exactly. Every time they met, they argued. And Cassian¡¯s friends with Emmett, right? I always thought Yvaine treated him like a spare older brother.¡¯


    I tried calling her again. Straight to voicemail. My stomach clenched.


    ¡®Shit,¡¯ I mumbled. ¡®What if something¡¯s actually wrong?¡¯


    Ashton reached over and squeezed my hand. ¡®I¡¯ve only met Emmett a few times, but he struck me as level-headed. Not the type tomit manughter. Cassian¡¯ll survive.¡¯


    ¡®Let¡¯s hope so.¡¯


    He wasn¡¯t speeding, but the tyres still kicked up grit. We pulled into Lakeside Reserve in under thirty minutes.


    Yvaine¡¯s vi sat quiet and still. Every blind was drawn.


    I rang the bell and called out, ¡®Yvaine? You in there?¡¯


    It took her a while to answer. The door eased open.


    ¡®Mira, finally,¡¯ she said, voice rasping.


    Her eyes were swollen. Wet streaks marked both cheeks.


    I touched her jaw. Her skin felt hot, blotchy. ¡®Let us in. Start from the beginning.¡¯


    We barely stepped through the entryway before I spotted it¡ªa streak of dried blood running across the marble tiles. It led past the hallway rug and disappeared into the living room.


    Cassian was on the sofa, half-sprawled, head tilted back against the cushions.


    Someone had shoved him into a loose white loungewear set, but the cor was crusted red. Blood dotted the fabric, especially down the left side.


    His lip was split. One eye was nearly swollen shut. His chest rose, barely.


    To his right sat a man in a charcoal suit, cuffs rolled, top buttons undone.


    He was wiping blood off a sleek silver watch with the same care I used on opals.


    His knuckles were red.


    Yvaine had told me once she¡¯d rather break both ankles than piss off her big brother.


    She might run wild in clubs and mouth off at their parents, but when Emmett said ¡®home¡¯, she folded.


    Looking at him now, I could sympathise with her.


    Ashton came in behind me and shut the door quietly.


    He stopped in front of the sofa, nced down at Cassian¡¯s face, and said tly, ¡®He needs a hospital. Now.¡¯


    Yvaine sniffled. ¡®Emmett won¡¯t let me. He wouldn¡¯t even let me open the door. I think he actually meant to kill him.¡¯


    I turned. ¡®What the hell happened?¡¯


    Her voice was steadier now, but her hands kept fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie. ¡®He showed up unannounced. Cassian answered the door, shirtless. He lost his mind.¡¯


    I darted a look at Emmett. He hadn¡¯t said a word so far, just gave Ashton an acknowledging nod when he came in.


    ¡®I don¡¯t see what the big deal was,¡¯ Yvaine muttered. ¡®Cassian used to be around all the time. Mum and Dad trust him. Emmett did too. He even asked him to keep an eye on me a couple of times when he was travelling.¡¯


    ¡®I asked him to look out for you, not take you to bed.¡¯ Emmett looked up.


    Yvaine bit her lip. Her eyes filled again. ¡®He didn¡¯t fight back. Not once. You didn¡¯t have to beat him up until he copsed!¡¯


    She looked at me. ¡®I had to drag him to the couch. I got him dressed while Emmett smashed his phone. I couldn¡¯t call anyone. I didn¡¯t dare.¡¯


    ¡®So you called me,¡¯ I said.


    She nodded, lips trembling. ¡®I didn¡¯t even finish the call. Emmett snatched my phone.¡¯


    Cassian let out a low, wet groan. His fingers twitched.


    ¡®He¡¯s losing too much blood,¡¯ Yvaine whispered. ¡®If we wait any longer¡ª¡¯ Her voice cracked. ¡®What if he¡¯s not going to make it?¡¯

 Chapter 126 - 127 Confirmed Playboy

    <h4>Chapter 126: Chapter 127 Confirmed yboy</h4>


    Emmett leaned back into the sofa, face nk, shirt still spattered red.


    Ashton stepped forward. ¡®Emmett, whatever happened, this isn¡¯t the ce to deal with it. He needs a hospital. Unless you¡¯re really nning to let him bleed out in your sister¡¯s living room.¡¯


    ¡®Mr Laurent,¡¯ he said, t and clipped. ¡®This is my family¡¯s problem. Not yours.¡¯


    Under any other circumstances, Ashton would¡¯ve walked out or started swinging.


    Instead, he took half a step back and adjusted his tone like he was trying not to spook a wild animal.


    ¡®Emmett. I¡¯m not here to interfere. Cassian¡¯s a friend. I¡¯m just asking you to let him get medical attention. He¡¯s in no shape to argue. Neither are we, if something worse happens tonight.¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s not dying,¡¯ Emmett said without even looking at Cassian. ¡®I didn¡¯t go for the kill. He brought this on himself. He thinks he can sneak into my sister¡¯s bed under my nose? He¡¯s lucky he¡¯s still breathing.¡¯


    ¡®Barely,¡¯ I muttered.


    ¡®He didn¡¯t sneak in,¡¯ Yvaine snapped. ¡®I invited him. And I¡¯m not twelve. I don¡¯t need you vetting my rtionships.¡¯


    Emmett didn¡¯t answer.


    Ashton tried again, still measured, still painfully calm. ¡®I think they both know what they¡¯re doing. Maybe there¡¯s some misunderstanding here. Let him get checked out first. Then you can yell at him all you want.¡¯


    Emmett rose from the sofa in one sharp movement. His shadow blocked half the light.


    ¡®Misunderstanding? I walked in and found a man I trusted with my sister half-naked in her house. That¡¯s not a misunderstanding. That¡¯s betrayal. You¡¯re friends with him, Mr Laurent. You know exactly what he¡¯s like. If it were your sister he was screwing, would you be this calm?¡¯


    Ashton moved past Emmett and grabbed Cassian under the arm. I took the other side.


    Cassian didn¡¯t even lift his head¡ªjust groaned once, breath rattling.


    We started dragging him towards the front door.


    Emmett didn¡¯t block us. He just stood there, breathing hard, jaw flexing.


    Yvaine hurried after us.


    ¡®Stay right there!¡¯ Emmett¡¯s voice cracked through the air. ¡®He goes to the hospital, fine. But you¡¯re not going with him. Sit your arse back down.¡¯


    ¡®Emmett, please! Just let me check on him. If he¡¯s fine, I¡¯lle straight back.¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯


    ¡®You broke his nose, probably cracked a rib. We¡¯ll have to pay the damn hospital bill. The least I can do is go with him.¡¯


    Emmett stepped forward. His tone dropped to a low grind. ¡®So now you¡¯re defying me for him?¡¯


    ¡®No. I just¡ªhe¡¯s in rough shape.¡¯


    ¡®Yvaine Carlisle,¡¯ he said through his teeth, ¡®you walk out that door with him, you can forget you¡¯ve got a brother.¡¯


    Yvaine froze halfway through the door.


    Ashton and I were already outside, shoving Cassian¡¯s sorry arse into the back seat.


    His nose was bleeding again.


    Yvaine clenched her jaw, turned, and followed us anyway.


    ¡®Emmett, don¡¯t be dramatic. I¡¯ll be back in twenty minutes.¡¯


    She jumped into the car.


    ***


    Cassian¡¯s injuries turned out to be mostly superficial¡ªbloody, yes, but not serious.


    The bulk of the bleeding hade from his nose, with a few scrapes on his arms and hands from the fall.


    Emmett¡¯s fists had done the rest.


    No broken bones, no internal damage, just a face so bruised and swollen he¡¯d be unrecognisable in family photos for the foreseeable future.


    As a doctor tended to him, I dragged Yvaine out by the wrist and shoved her into the nearest stairwell.


    ¡®When did this start? You and Cassian? Why the hell didn¡¯t you tell me?¡¯


    She looked like she wanted to crawl into the floor tiles.


    ¡®My birthday,¡¯ she muttered.


    My stomach dropped.


    Her birthday.


    I ran through the memory: She was hammered. Couldn¡¯t walk straight. Kept trying to escort me home, even though she could barely talk.


    I left in a cab. Cassian offered to take her back.


    But there was no flirting at the party. Nothing even close.


    So whatever happened, it happened after they left together.


    I narrowed my eyes.


    ¡®You weren¡¯t even making eye contact that night. You¡¯re saying you jumped him after the car ride?¡¯


    ¡®Yes.¡¯ With me, she could be frank.


    ¡®So you two have been together for what, months now? And I had no idea.¡¯


    ¡®Well, we are not exactly together...¡¯ she mumbled.


    ¡®Was it a one-night stand?¡¯


    Yvaine nodded. Then: ¡®Well, more like a string of one-night stands. We¡¯d just get together when we have the time, you know.¡¯


    I stared at her. ¡®I shouldn¡¯t have let you leave with him. You were drunk out of your mind.¡¯


    ¡®You don¡¯t have to feel guilty. He didn¡¯t make any moves on me. That night, I puked on him in the hallway. He stayed to clean up. Took a shower. I saw him without a shirt. Liked what I saw.¡¯


    I stared. She didn¡¯t blink.


    ¡®He didn¡¯t drag me into anything,¡¯ she added. ¡®I was the one who started it. It was one night. At least, that was the n. I didn¡¯t tell you because it wasn¡¯t supposed to be serious.¡¯


    ¡®And now?¡¯ I asked slowly.


    She shrugged. ¡®I think I like him.¡¯


    I rubbed the centre of my forehead. ¡®Yvaine¡ª¡¯


    ¡®I know what you¡¯re gonna say. That he¡¯s a flirt. Emmett already gave me the same speech. I¡¯ve heard the stories too.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not trying to break you up,¡¯ I said. ¡®But he¡¯s not exactly boyfriend material. Ashton filled me in on the ride here. Said Cassian¡¯s decent in a fight, generous with his mates, and loyal in the ways that count, but he goes through women faster than he goes through razors. Half the time, he¡¯s in a new bed before the old one cools off. That¡¯s probably why Emmett lost it.¡¯


    Yvaine nodded. ¡®I know. But he said he¡¯s done screwing around. It¡¯s been over a month since my birthday, and he hasn¡¯t touched anyone else.¡¯


    I smacked the back of her head. Not hard. Just enough to hopefully knock some sense into her.


    ¡®And you believed that? You, who could have anyone, decided to get tangled up with a confirmed yboy?¡¯

 Chapter 127 - 128 Don’t Bet On It

    <h4>Chapter 127: Chapter 128 Don¡¯t Bet On It</h4>


    Yvaine said simply, ¡®He¡¯s hot. He treats me well. I like him. I¡¯m not nning our wedding. If he starts sniffing around anyone else, I¡¯m out. Simple as that.¡¯


    I opened my mouth. Closed it again.


    She wouldn¡¯t listen now.


    If I pushed, she¡¯d only dig in harder. She¡¯d convince herself everyone wanted to keep them apart, and he¡¯d look even more appealing.


    I knew that because I¡¯d done it. I¡¯d clung to Rhys Granger with both arms and most of my dignity, even after everyone warned me he was bad news.


    Maybe Yvaine really could walk away. Maybe she meant what she said.


    I hoped so.


    The doctor finished patching up Cassian, and we stepped into the room together.


    Ashton had already sorted a nurse for him.


    Cassian was calling his family, lying about having to be away on a business trip for weeks.


    Just before I left with Ashton, I paused at the door.


    Yvaine was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding Cassian¡¯s hand. His knuckles were wrapped. Her thumb moved tenderly across the gauze.


    He stared at her with a look that was possibly adoration.


    They looked ready to take on a firing squad together.


    ¡®Do you think he¡¯ll change?¡¯ I asked Ashton quietly.


    ¡®Wouldn¡¯t bet on it.¡¯


    After we left the hospital, Ashton and I grabbed brunch near East 78th.


    ¡®I¡¯ll drive you,¡¯ he said after I told him I nned to go back to Oakwood Apartments.


    I nodded, remembering not to say ¡®thank you¡¯ like I always did.


    ¡®Aboutst night,¡¯ he started.


    ¡®Yeah?¡¯ I stared out the car window, distracted.


    I was thinking about Priya.


    The payout from the Isobel Brooke case was finally clearing.


    Priya was heading home once the moneynded, and I didn¡¯t know when I¡¯d see her again. Probably not for a long time.


    I figured we could do onest walk around the city. Maybe grab coffee. Maybe people-watch in the park andin about men.


    ¡®After we left the bar,¡¯ Ashton said. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully.


    I turned to look at him. ¡®Did something happen after we left? Right, I forgot, Rhys was still there. I hope someone called the cops on him.¡¯


    ¡®Let¡¯s hope so.¡¯ He smiled a little.


    ¡®Is that what you wanted to talk about? Rhys?¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯ The word seemed toe from between clenched teeth. ¡®I want to talk about us.¡¯


    ¡®What about us?¡¯


    ¡®Do you remember what you said in the car?¡¯


    I tried to recall. ¡®I said plenty, I think.¡¯


    I remembered the kiss.


    Somehow, Ashton¡¯s kiss always seemed hotter when it was done in the backseat of a car.


    Maybe it had something to do with the confined space. There was nothing else to focus on except him, except the moment.


    Then I remembered what led to Yvaine and Cassian¡¯s one-night stand. ¡®God, I hope I didn¡¯t throw up on you.¡¯


    That would be beyond embarrassing.


    ¡®No, you didn¡¯t.¡¯


    ¡®Good.¡¯ I breathed out.


    ¡®Was that all you wanted to say?¡¯ I asked.


    Ashton paused a beat, then: ¡®Never mind.¡¯ The car slowed. ¡®We¡¯re here.¡¯


    I leaned over, kissed his cheek. ¡®Thanks. See youter.¡¯


    I got out and waved goodbye.


    I texted Priya from the pavement outside the building. [You free today?]


    Nothing.


    I waited. Checked my phone again. Still nothing.


    I went upstairs. Knocked twice.


    No answer. But I heard loud noises from within. TV and people talking.


    I pulled the spare key out of my bag, shoved it into the lock, and stepped inside.


    My jaw locked.


    The entire t reeked of stale smoke and fried snacks. Air heavy with that cheap, acidic cigarette stench that clung to the back of your throat.


    The coffee table was surrounded by men I¡¯d never seen before¡ªearly twenties, all of them smoking, shouting over one another, ying cards.


    Wrappers, pistachio shells, orange peel¡ªtrash scattered across the floor and cushions.


    Priya¡¯s brother Rohan was in the middle of the chaos, slouched low with one arm draped across the back of the sofa. I recognised him from court.


    Nobody looked up.


    Some guy whooped, mmed a card down, then shoved his chair back with a screech and shouted, ¡®Pay up, losers!


    Another peeled off his hoodie and threw it onto the floor.


    I scanned past the mess and spotted a man near the window, his back to me.


    Neal Sharma. Priya¡¯s father.


    He was on the phone, voice loud and smug. ¡®It¡¯s a proper t! Big windows, new floors. I¡¯ll send you pictures, you¡¯ve got to see the height on this ce. Her rich friend said we can stay as long as we want... No, she wouldn¡¯t kick us out. What kind of person would do that, after everything we did? Priya testified for her. Without us, she¡¯d have lost that case, end of story. And another payout¡¯sing soon, so pack your bags. Rohan¡¯s mates are already here.¡¯


    Unbelievable.


    This was the same man who¡¯d smiled at me, shaken my hand, and thanked me, with tears in his eyes, for getting justice for Priya.


    When I moved out, Ashton¡¯s staff had scrubbed the t spotless. Not a mark on the floor, not a crumb left behind.


    Now the ce looked like a squat. Rubbish everywhere, stained walls, sticky counters, broken biscuits ground into the rug.


    I started to step inside.


    A voice cut through from the kitchen. ¡®Why are you just standing around? Everyone else is helping. You can¡¯t even sweep the floor?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ve got a cold... my head¡¯s spinning...¡¯ That was Priya¡¯s scratchy voice.


    ¡®You¡¯re useless. Can¡¯t even help when family¡¯s here. Make a proper lunch¡ªwe¡¯ve got guests.¡¯


    ¡®This isn¡¯t even our t. We¡¯re just staying here¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Your rich friend made you testify, so she owes us! What, does she want us out on the street?¡¯


    ¡®You still shouldn¡¯t trash the ce.¡¯


    ¡®Shut your mouth and start cooking.¡¯


    I¡¯d heard enough.

 Chapter 128 - 129 Ingrates

    <h4>Chapter 128: Chapter 129 Ingrates</h4>


    One of the men at the table looked up and squinted.


    ¡®Hey. Who the hell are you? How¡¯d you get in here?¡¯


    Another twisted around and whistled. ¡®Who ordered a call girl?¡¯


    ¡®Not me.¡¯


    ¡®You stupid fuck, that¡¯s not a call girl. Not dressed like that.¡¯


    I walked in.


    A guy with patchy facial hair stood up and waved a hand. ¡®Alright, seriously, who even are you?¡¯


    I kicked aside a banana peel on the floor and said, ¡®I¡¯m the one who pays the rent.¡¯


    Theughter came immediately.


    ¡®This ce belongs to Priya. You her stalker or something?¡¯


    I stared at the ceiling and exhaled hard through my nose. ¡®Funny. No one told me the t changed itsst name to Sharma.¡¯


    That finally got them quiet.


    Neal had turned around, gaping.


    Le Sharma rushed out of the kitchen.


    Rohan popped up from the sofa, rubbing sleep from his eyes.


    Le threw on a wide smile. ¡®Mirabelle, darling! You should¡¯ve called. Come,e, sit¡ª¡¯


    She shoved the guys aside and started brushing off the sofa cushions with both hands like it¡¯d make any difference.


    I didn¡¯t move.


    ¡®When thendlord asks for damages, the money¡¯sing out of your pocket.¡¯


    Le blinked at me. ¡®What damages? It¡¯s just a bit of trash¡ª¡¯


    Neal was blunter. You¡¯re seriously going to make us pay? You¡¯ve got all that money and¡ª¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll clean it.¡¯ Priya stepped out from behind her mother timidly. She barely looked me in the eye. ¡®I¡¯ll fix everything. We¡¯ll be gone once thepensationes through. I swear.¡¯


    Le shoved her back with one hand. ¡®Don¡¯t be stupid. We¡¯re staying. This is our home now.¡¯


    ¡®Staying?¡¯ I crossed my arms. ¡®Fine. Stay. But rent¡¯s on you from now on.¡¯


    Neal¡¯s smile dropped like a curtain. ¡®You brought us here, Mirabelle. You said you¡¯d look after everything. Food, rent, clothes. And Priya, she¡¯s your key witness. Without her, you wouldn¡¯t have won shit. My daughter handed you that verdict. This is how you repay her?¡¯


    I dug my nails into my palm to keep from throwing something.


    ¡®I already wired you money before you came to Skyline. A lump sum. Enough for food, bills, taxis, all of it. The case is long over, and you¡¯re still squatting in my t. I¡¯d done more than enough. But I¡¯m not your damn sponsor.¡¯


    Rohan mumbled something under his breath. ¡®We helped you. You should help us. It¡¯s only right...¡¯


    I spun to face him. ¡®Priya wasn¡¯t just a witness. She was part of the case. She testified for her own sake as much as mine. You think one courtroom appearance earns your whole family a free ride for life?¡¯


    Silence. Even the guy who¡¯d been chewing loudly stopped mid-crunch.


    Priya swallowed hard and looked at her feet. ¡®We¡¯re not trying to freeload. We won¡¯t stay. Mum, Dad, stop saying that stuff.¡¯


    Le turned and pped her on the shoulder. ¡®Shut your mouth! You don¡¯t speak for us.¡¯


    Priya flinched.


    I grabbed Priya and yanked her away from Le. Her wrist felt thin and damp in my hand. ¡®Are you insane? You don¡¯t hit your daughter.¡¯


    ¡®Exactly, she¡¯s my daughter.¡¯ Le snorted. ¡®And I didn¡¯t hit her. It was just a tap. Didn¡¯t even hurt.¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯s got a busted leg and you still make her do everything. Cooking,undry, scrubbing floors. While the rest of you sit around. That¡¯s how you treat your daughter?¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯s a girl. That¡¯s what girls do. I¡¯m just training her for when she gets married.¡¯


    My jaw clenched so hard my temples started to throb. I turned to Priya.


    ¡®The money I sent you. You didn¡¯t keep any of it, did you?¡¯


    She didn¡¯t speak. Just stared at the floor. Tears dropped straight down onto the front of her sweatshirt.


    That was my answer.


    I already knew her backstory¡ªgrew up poor, got into Skyline on a schrship, parents took a payout from the Brookes and ran.


    I¡¯d sent her money so she could buy herself a decent meal every now and then.


    Clearly, none of it stayed in her ount.


    ¡®Right. So the whole family¡¯s been living off you like leeches.¡¯ I tried not to raise my voice. They weren¡¯t worth it. ¡®You¡¯ve got one day. Clean the t. Pack your shit. Be out by tomorrow night. If you¡¯re still here, I¡¯m calling the police.¡¯


    ¡®No!¡¯ Neal scowled. ¡®You brought us here! You used us! Now you want to kick us out like we¡¯re trash?¡¯


    ¡®You ARE trash. And thewyers spelt it out at the start. We wanted Priya to testify. None of the rest of you were actually invited. And we sure as hell didn¡¯t promise you a permanent address in Skyline.¡¯


    I turned to leave.


    Priya tugged at my sleeve.


    When I looked back, her eyes were bloodshot, and her nose was running. She wasn¡¯t saying anything, but I could read the panic written all over her face.


    If I walked out now, they¡¯d take it out on her.


    I grabbed her wrist and pulled her with me. ¡®I said I¡¯d show you around the city, didn¡¯t I? We¡¯re doing that today.¡¯


    Multiple voices started shouting. I mmed the door hard enough to make the hallway shake.


    Inside the lift, she mumbled, ¡®Sorry.¡¯


    She barely reached my shoulder. With her head ducked like that, all I could see was the top of her scalp and the stringy part in her hair.


    ¡®I thought your parents gave a damn,¡¯ I muttered. ¡®That¡¯s why they travelled all the way here with you. I didn¡¯t realise they only came here to see what they could wring out of you.¡¯


    ¡®They didn¡¯te here thinking that. Not at first,¡¯ she said in a small voice. ¡®But after we arrived, and thewyer had everything arranged, and you put us up in this fancy building... Then you stopped showing up, and they assumed you¡¯d forgotten. They thought they could push it.¡¯


    ¡®So it was all my fault now?¡¯ I raised an eyebrow. ¡®I should¡¯ve just stayed away and let them do whatever they liked?¡¯

 Chapter 129 - 130 Miss Davis

    <h4>Chapter 129: Chapter 130 Miss Davis</h4>


    ¡®No, no, that¡¯s not what I meant!¡¯ Priya looked on the verge of tears again. ¡®I just didn¡¯t put it very well...¡¯


    She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. Her fingers were red and cracked, the skin king near the knuckles. Some of the patches looked raw.


    ¡®It¡¯s only November,¡¯ I said, frowning. ¡®What the hell happened to your hands?¡¯


    She jerked her arms back into her sleeves. ¡®It¡¯s nothing. I¡¯m used to doing chores back home.¡¯


    I stared at her. She looked small again, hunched in that oversized coat, trying to disappear into it. I let out a breath.


    ¡®You¡¯d be better off staying here and getting a job. You can¡¯t keep ying maid for those people. Your mum was talking about marrying you off just now, wasn¡¯t she?¡¯


    She nodded. ¡®They found some guy, forty years old. They¡¯de to sort of arrangement before we left.¡¯


    ¡®Are you fucking serious?¡¯ I was incredulous. ¡®They¡¯re trying to sell you off? That¡¯s it. You¡¯re NOT going home with them!¡¯


    Priya swallowed. ¡®Mirabelle, you should call the police. Don¡¯t let them mess up your t any more. If they¡¯ve got nowhere to go, they¡¯ll have to go back home.¡¯


    ¡®And what about you?¡¯


    She hesitated. ¡®Do you think someone like me could get a job in Skyline?¡¯


    She had a limp. Her voice still came out hoarse from the damage she¡¯d had before. She¡¯d barely finished school. It wouldn¡¯t be easy.


    But I¡¯d seen worse make it. She just needed a chance.


    She nced away again. ¡®Never mind. They¡¯ll never let me stay. They still need me to go back and cook and clean.¡¯


    The lift doors opened.


    We stepped out into the marble lobby. I turned to her and didn¡¯t let her look away.


    ¡®Think it through. Then tell me straight. Do you really want to stay in Skyline City? Away from your parents? All alone in the big city with no friends, no family?¡¯


    Her mouth twisted. She didn¡¯t speak. Her eyebrows creased tightly.


    Then, finally, she nodded. ¡®Yes, I do.¡¯


    I smiled. ¡®Good. I¡¯ve got a way to get your parents and your brother out without dragging you with them.¡¯


    Her eyes widened. She looked like she didn¡¯t believe me.


    ¡®I¡¯ll make a call.¡¯


    Oakwood Apartments were LGH property.


    I called Ashton. Told him everything.


    He didn¡¯t even pause. ¡®It¡¯s being handled. Don¡¯t worry about it.¡¯


    ¡®Thanks.¡¯ I hung up and turned to her. ¡®Come on. We¡¯re going shopping.¡¯


    It took a while. At first, Priya stayed glued to my side, flinching any time someone brushed past.


    But after about twenty minutes and two food samples, her shoulders started to loosen. She even smiled when I dared her to try on a ridiculous yellow hat with sequins.


    We were halfway through the food court when my phone rang again.


    ¡®It¡¯s sorted,¡¯ Ashton said. ¡®They¡¯re out. Got them tickets and had someone watch them board. They¡¯re halfway back to whatever dusty ce they came from.¡¯


    ¡®Wait¡ªseriously?¡¯ I stopped walking. ¡®How the hell did you manage that so fast?¡¯


    ¡®Thirty grand. Told them to leave the girl and take the cash. Dominic went with a few people. If they¡¯d said no, he had... cheaper methods ready.¡¯


    I grinned. ¡®You can¡¯t see me now, but I¡¯m giving a big thumbs-up.¡¯


    His voice was light. ¡®Anything for you, Mrs Laurent.¡¯


    My ear against the phone suddenly felt hot. I cleared my throat. ¡®You¡¯re probably busy with a million things. Thanks, and see youter.¡¯


    After I hung up, I turned to Priya. ¡®They¡¯re gone. You¡¯re staying.¡¯


    She didn¡¯t seem thrilled by the news. ¡®They gave me up for thirty thousand,¡¯ she said quietly. ¡®That¡¯s all it took.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s a small price to pay to get your life back,¡¯ I said. ¡®Take the win. Start fresh. Go look for a job when you¡¯re ready. I¡¯ll ask around too.¡¯


    She looked up. ¡®Thank you. I mean it. I¡¯ll pay you back. Every cent.¡¯


    In the afternoon, I took her to get a new bank card.


    Then I called Hannah and told her to reroute Isobel Brooke¡¯s settlement money to the new ount.


    The old one was in her dad¡¯s name. If itnded there, she¡¯d never see a penny.


    Now it was hers. Finally.


    Just before sunset, I dropped her back at Oakwood.


    ¡®Stay here for as long as you want. You¡¯ve got the space, no one¡¯s breathing down your neck¡ª¡¯


    She unlocked the door, and we both stopped talking.


    The ce was spotless. Counters wiped, floor swept, junk gone.


    Even the bustedmp had been reced.


    It looked the way it did the day I moved out.


    I didn¡¯t need to ask.


    I pulled out my phone and texted Ashton: [Thanks for the clean-up crew. Big smiley face emoji.]


    He replied immediately: [Don¡¯t mention it. I¡¯m out tonight. Dinner ns.]


    [Cool.] I typed, then locked my screen.


    Just as I started to put it in my bag, it rang. I looked down.


    Caroline.


    I hadn¡¯t spoken to her or anyone in the Vance house for months.


    Her name on my screen already gave me a headache.


    I declined the call.


    A secondter, a message came through. Voice note.


    I hit y.


    Her voice chirped out.


    ¡®Mirabelle! Why didn¡¯t you pick up? Guess who I ran into today?¡¯


    I didn¡¯t reply. She¡¯d tell me anyway.


    After I settled Priya in¡ªextra nkets, stocked fridge, new padlock on the inside of the door¡ªI left her alone and got into the lift.


    The second voice note came through before I hit the lobby.


    ¡®I saw Miss Davis! You remember Miss Davis, don¡¯t you?¡¯


    Of course I did.


    There¡¯d only ever been one Miss Davis in my life.

 Chapter 130 - 131 Trap

    <h4>Chapter 130: Chapter 131 Trap</h4>


    Miss Davis taught literature at Westbridge Prep when I was there.


    Fresh out of uni, looked about twenty. Always wore long white dresses. Thick brown braids. Smelled like toner and rosemary. Carried a canvas tote with busted straps and wrote in red pen, not green like the others.


    She wasn¡¯t scared of Isobel Brooke.


    The other teachers acted like they couldn¡¯t see a girl getting shoved into lockers. Miss Davis dragged Isobel into her office every other week and gave her a talking-to.


    It didn¡¯t stop everything, but it kept Isobel on a shorter leash.


    When I reported Isobel to the police, the school freaked.


    Only one teacher backed me up.


    The rest kept their mouths shut and stuck to the script: ¡®Just kids being kids.¡¯


    The case was dropped after my parents took the Brookes¡¯ money.


    Miss Davis left a monthter.


    Rumour said she¡¯d been fired.


    I never saw her again.


    After uni, I tried to track her down.


    But Davis was amon surname, and there were simply too many of them online.


    Caroline¡¯s voice notes kept going.


    ¡®She looks exactly the same. Not a single wrinkle. Skin¡¯s still glowing. We were just talking about you. She said you turned out impressive!¡¯


    I stared at the lift doors. Something felt off.


    Back in the old days, Caroline barely said two words to Miss Davis. Called her ¡®stubborn¡¯ behind her back. Said she was wasting her time sticking up for the wrong kids.


    Now she was all chatty and warm? Weird.


    I typed out a quick reply: [Where did you run into her?]


    Another voice note dropped instantly. ¡®At the mall. We were shopping and bumped into her. She¡¯s still with me now.¡¯


    A pause. Then another messagended.


    I hit y.


    This one wasn¡¯t Caroline.


    ¡®Hi Mirabelle. I¡¯m with your mum now. It¡¯s been years. Let¡¯s catch up over dinner tonight? I¡¯m only in Skyline for a couple days.¡¯


    I stopped walking. Hit rey.


    It was definitely her.


    Same voice I used to hear from the back row, reading out ¡®Jane Eyre¡¯ to us. Warm, even.


    I hadn¡¯t heard it in years, but it still had that same calm pressure, like nothing around it could shake it loose.


    Before I could think of what to say, another message dropped.


    ¡®You heard that, right? Miss Davis wants to see you. Are you free tonight? I¡¯ll book the ce.¡¯


    I answered immediately: [Free.]


    I wanted to see Miss Davis.


    Also, it was time to ask Caroline whether she knew Catherine wasn¡¯t her biological daughter.


    Like I expected, the Grangers had kept a tight lid on the situation. No mention of Catherine anywhere. The wedding cancetion was being med on some hotel emergency.


    Still, it was hard to believe Clive or Rhys hadn¡¯t already lost it and confronted Caroline and Franklin directly.


    She took a few minutes, then sent back: [Booked it. 8 p.m. at The Corner Table, Room 108.]


    [Got it.]


    I shoved my phone into my bag and headed home.


    I needed to change.


    I got in at half six. As I kicked off my shoes in the foyer, I called out, ¡®Geoffrey, Ashton and I won¡¯t be home tonight. Skip dinner prep.¡¯


    ¡®Noted, Mrs Laurent.¡¯


    I darted upstairs, took a quick shower, and did a full face in twelve minutes t. Went for the grey tweed dress with the square neckline and fitted waist.


    At seven thirty, I was ready. The Corner Table was about half an hour across town, so I had Geoffrey call the car.


    The driver took a side route. We pulled up at seven fifty.


    I got out and headed through the ss doors.


    Despite the name, The Corner Table wasn¡¯t a diner.


    Crystal lighting, te floors, velvet walls, the whole thing smelled like bergamot and polished wood.


    I¡¯d barely stepped in when the ma?tre d¡¯ approached me. ¡®Good evening, miss, do you have a reservation?¡¯


    ¡®Mira?¡¯ Someone on my left spoke.


    I turned. ¡®Ha, didn¡¯t expect to see you here.¡¯


    Ashton wore ck. His tie was loosened. There was a faint scent of vetiver when he stepped closer.


    ¡®Yeah. Meeting a few people for dinner.¡¯ He looked rxed. ¡®We can head home together after, if you want.¡¯


    ¡®Sure.¡¯


    He tipped his chin. ¡®Which room?¡¯


    ¡®108.¡¯ I nced at my phone. ¡®I¡¯m runningte. Catch youter.¡¯


    I smiled at him, then followed the waiter down the corridor.


    Just outside Room 108, I paused and checked my reflection in my phone screen. Adjusted a loose strand. Straightened my back.


    Then I stepped in.


    There was no Caroline.


    No Miss Davis.


    Three men were seated.


    One on the left was Franklin, arms folded, leaning back.


    Cousin Preston sat on the right, straight-backed and smug.


    The one at the centre I¡¯d never seen in my life.


    Thick neck, pink face, thinning blond hair slicked straight back. His eyes tracked me in a way that put my back up immediately.


    I didn¡¯t step inside.


    ¡®Where¡¯s Miss Davis?¡¯


    Preston got up and reached for my arm. ¡®She¡¯s on her way. Runningte. Come, sit.¡¯


    He tried to steer me in.


    I pulled away. ¡®You people pulling another stunt?¡¯


    ¡®No stunt,¡¯ Preston said. He grabbed my shoulder and forced me down into the chair beside the fat stranger. ¡®We¡¯ve invited Mr Maxwell for dinner. Sit with him.¡¯


    He pressed down. Hard.


    I drove my elbow straight into his stomach.


    He gasped.


    I stood.


    ¡®You dragged me here to meet a fucking creep?¡¯ I snapped. ¡®You said Miss Davis was here.¡¯


    I turned and walked towards the door.


    ¡®You¡¯re not going anywhere,¡¯ Franklin growled. He hauled a chair in front of me, blocking the path. ¡®Sit down.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t move.


    The man called Maxwell shifted in his seat, his belt digging into his gut, his stare fixed on my chest.


    If I wanted out, I¡¯d have to go through all three men.


    I scanned the room.


    No windows.


    Only one way out.

 Chapter 131 - 132 Dinner With A Perv

    <h4>Chapter 131: Chapter 132 Dinner With A Perv</h4>


    Preston saw me hesitate and shoved down on my shoulder again.


    I gripped the edge of the table, ready to throw a te at him, but then he bent low beside my ear.


    ¡®Rx,¡¯ he whispered. ¡®Maxwell can¡¯t get it up. He can¡¯t do anything. Just sit still and look pretty.¡¯


    I stared at him.


    He stepped back.


    I turned slowly and looked at Maxwell again.


    His lips were parted in a sticky grin.


    His skin looked waxy. His eyelids drooped. He blinked slow.


    The man probably couldn¡¯t climb a flight of stairs without copsing.


    I sat.


    Preston¡¯s hand lifted from my shoulder.


    He moved around the table, filled a ss for Maxwell, poured a second for himself, then said, ¡®This is Mr Gary Maxwell, Senior VP of Corporate Procurement. This is my cousin, Mirabelle Vance.¡¯


    Franklin chuckled. ¡®Come on, Mirabelle. Say hello. Give Mr Maxwell a toast.¡¯


    I stared straight ahead and kept my mouth shut.


    Franklin¡¯s smile twitched. ¡®She¡¯s, uh... shy. Not much of a talker. Let¡¯s eat.¡¯


    Still blocking the door, he waved for the waiter.


    tes started arriving.


    Prawns, roast duck, asparagus spears zed in something thick and amber.


    No drinks yet, but the food alone could¡¯ve fed twenty people.


    I counted the tes. The total bill wouldnd deep in four figures.


    Maxwell must¡¯ve been holding something they wanted. A project. A contract.


    Something big enough for the Vances to pull out all the stops and sell their dignity along with mine.


    I dropped my gaze, felt eyes crawling up my arm.


    Maxwell was still staring; he hadn¡¯t stopped since I came in.


    His breath came out thick. His elbow brushed mine again.


    I shoved my chair sideways with a sharp scrape. The legs dragged across the tile, loud enough to startle a busboy.


    Franklin snapped, ¡®What the hell is wrong with you? Show some manners.¡¯


    He leaned in close and hissed, ¡®If this deal goes through, I¡¯ll wire you some cash. Just shut up and behave.¡¯


    I rolled my eyes straight into the back of my skull.


    He tried tough it off. ¡®Let¡¯s eat, then. Mr Maxwell, how¡¯s the spread? If there¡¯s anything you don¡¯t like, we¡¯ll order something else.¡¯


    Maxwell¡¯s eyes stayed locked on me. ¡®It¡¯s fine.¡¯


    He wasn¡¯t talking about the food.


    Still, he didn¡¯t touch me.


    Eventually, he started chatting with Preston and Franklin, something about procurement cycles and contract uses.


    His attention shifted off me, which meant I could finally stop holding my breath.


    I stayed put. Back stiff. Fork untouched. I didn¡¯t drink the water.


    Preston broke first. ¡®Mr Maxwell, about that project, any update?¡¯


    Maxwell¡¯s cheeks pulled tight with a grin. His eyes disappeared into the fleshy folds. ¡®Almost at the tender stage.¡¯


    ¡®You must be swamped. Appreciate you making the time.¡¯


    Franklin jumped in, lifting his ss. ¡®Yes, thank you for squeezing us in. Cheers.¡¯


    He took a sip, then leaned sideways, dropping his voice. ¡®You know if the contractnds with us, we¡¯ll be... very grateful.¡¯


    He raised two fingers behind the ss and flicked them once.


    I caught it.


    What did that mean? Twenty thousand? Twenty million? Or twenty per cent?


    Maxwell didn¡¯t blink. He reached for his fork. ¡®There¡¯s a process. Let¡¯s stick to that. Food looks great.¡¯


    Franklin nodded. ¡®Of course, of course. Let¡¯s eat.¡¯


    They¡¯d just started moving their cutlery when I cleared my throat.


    ¡®Mr Maxwell, just a heads-up, you should steer clear of Vance Ovend. The ce is tiny, outdated, and they¡¯ve got a pile of vitions stacked higher than their forklifts. Total shitshow.¡¯


    I clucked my tongue and shook my head slowly.


    They tricked me into this dinner. They locked the door, yed dumb, shoved me at this perv.


    Fine. If they wanted drama, I¡¯d give them the full set list.


    ¡®Last I heard, tax investigators showed up at their warehouse unannounced. If you sign with them and they vanish in a month, you¡¯ll be chasing ghosts. Just saying¡ªit¡¯s a risk.¡¯


    All three of them stared.


    Franklin mmed his palm on the table. ¡®What the hell is wrong with you? Just shut up and eat!¡¯


    Preston¡¯s voice was strained. ¡®Mr Maxwell, she doesn¡¯t know what she¡¯s saying. She¡¯s just a kid. Ignore it. Hell, she doesn¡¯t even work at thepany. I¡¯m the CEO, and I can speak with confidence that our books are clean, our permits are intact, no incidents on record. Everything¡¯s above board.¡¯


    Maxwell looked annoyed for half a second, then shoved it down and grinned like nothing had happened. ¡®No harm done. I guess Miss Vance was just ribbing you. Cousins, eh?¡¯


    He shifted in his seat and leaned my way.


    His fingers, thick and greasy, crept towards my thigh.


    I smacked the back of his hand, hard.


    ¡®Ow! Bloody hell,¡¯ he yelped, jerking back like I¡¯d burned him.


    His smile vanished.


    Franklin looked ready to throw his drink at me. ¡®Mirabelle! What the hell is wrong with you? You don¡¯t just hit people. Apologise to Mr Maxwell!¡¯


    I flexed my wrist. ¡®He should be thanking me. There was a mosquito. I killed it. And if ites back, I¡¯ll kill it again.¡¯


    Maxwell chuckled. ¡®Feisty. I like that.¡¯


    There was no trace of mirth in his eyes.


    I ignored his attempt to make me drink, and I kept ying with the steak knife.


    He kept his hands to himself after that.


    The rest of dinner dragged.


    Preston kept circling back to the project, trying to slip in little reminders about deadlines and logistics between meaningless chit-chat.


    I half-listened, knife in hand.


    Every so often, I threw in a fresh lie about Vance Ovend.


    Faulty cranes. Leaky roof. Unpaid workers. A rat infestation.


    Franklin red. Preston kicked me under the table once.


    They both looked like they regretted dragging me here.


    Good.


    Franklin made onest attempt. ¡®If Vance Ovend gets the chance to work with LGH, we¡¯ll prioritise this partnership. Give it our all. Mr Maxwell, you¡¯d benefit too. Win-win, right?¡¯


    I looked up from my drink and stared at Maxwell.


    So this guy was with LGH.

 Chapter 132 - 133 Clever System

    <h4>Chapter 132: Chapter 133 Clever System</h4>


    I studied Maxwell with a frown.


    No way someone like him was from their main office.


    Maybe he wasn¡¯t LGH at all.


    Maybe he was full of shit.


    While they kept babbling, I slid my phone out of my clutch and secretly took a photo.


    Sent it straight to Ashton Laurent.


    [This guy. You know him?]


    It took Ashton a few minutes to reply.


    [Yeah. He¡¯s a Senior VP at Laurent Systems & Solutions. Why?]


    [He¡¯s meeting suppliers on the sly.]


    I started typing more. Stopped. Deleted.


    Typed again.


    [Tried to grope me under the table.]


    Sent.


    I flipped the phone screen down and turned on the recording app.


    While Franklin tried to pitch him again, I cut in.


    ¡®LGH¡¯s got some tight policies, don¡¯t they? Something about staff being banned from meeting vendors off the record. No gifts. No cash. No freebies. Not even a discount voucher.¡¯


    Maxwell paused, fork halfway to his mouth. ¡®I didn¡¯t take anything from them.¡¯


    I pointed at the lobster tail swimming in butter and the sliced abalone drowning in brown sauce. ¡®You think this table set itself? That¡¯s not free.¡¯


    He hesitated, then slowly set down his fork.


    He tried to shrug, but his shoulders were too heavy.


    ¡®If that counts as bribery, I guess I can¡¯t eat dinner with anyone anymore.¡¯


    Franklin said hastily, ¡®It¡¯s just a meal. Nothing serious.¡¯


    Preston chimed in right behind him. ¡®Yeah. We invited Mr Maxwell. He was kind enough toe. That¡¯s all.¡¯


    ¡®Exactly,¡¯ Franklin added. ¡®Someone at Mr Maxwell¡¯s level¡ªgetting the asional gift during the holidays is normal.¡¯


    I let them il for a moment, then gave Maxwell azy smile. ¡®Everyone¡¯s got bills to pay. And you look like a man who¡¯s got expensive tastes. Bit of kickback on the side wouldn¡¯t be the worst thing. I get it.¡¯


    I smiled wider, like I meant it.


    ¡®You¡¯re joking, Miss Vance. I don¡¯t take kickbacks,¡¯ he said stiffly.


    I nced at his watch.


    ¡®Didn¡¯t realise you were that noble. All those supplier contacts, project budgets, and still living off payroll? You must be scraping by.¡¯


    I clicked my tongue twice and shook my head slowly. Like I was genuinely disappointed he wasn¡¯t loaded.


    ¡®Shame. I thought a man who could afford a Patek Philippe might be able to take a girl somece fancy. Guess not.¡¯


    That did it.


    His eyes flicked to my mouth, then to my corbone.


    He leaned in, voice low and greasy.


    ¡®I¡¯ve got plenty of money. Youe with me, sweetheart, and I¡¯ll take you to all the fancy ces you want.¡¯


    His jowls bunched up around his grin like rising dough.


    I forced myself not to gag.


    I tilted my head, let my voice go light. ¡®Yeah? Where¡¯s all that money from, then?¡¯


    He swayed a little, eyes ssy.


    Definitely drunk enough to show off.


    Definitely stupid enough to think I cared.


    ¡®Doesn¡¯t matter where it¡¯s from. What matters is I¡¯ll spend it on you.¡¯ He wagged a finger. ¡®I¡¯ve got assets in the high nine figures.¡¯


    I twisted sideways when his hand reached for my waist, then widened my eyes. ¡®So what¡¯s your role at LGH, Mr Maxwell? You¡¯ve got to be making, what, a few million a year? Let¡¯s say three. If you¡¯ve got a hundred mil in assets, you¡¯d need to work thirty years straight, no breaks, no shopping, no food.¡¯


    He smirked. ¡®Of course I don¡¯t make that from LGH alone.¡¯


    ¡®So you¡¯re skimming.¡¯ I shrugged. ¡®Fair enough.¡¯


    ¡®No, no,¡¯ he said quickly. ¡®Skimming sounds dirty. What I do is just... fair exchange.¡¯


    I kept my expression steady, eyes a little wide, like I was impressed. ¡®I don¡¯t understand.¡¯


    ¡®Look, these guys give me gifts because they want to. I never ask. They know how things work. I greenlight their bids, their products meet spec, nobody gets hurt. Win-win.¡¯ He turned to my father, seated on the other side. ¡®Right, Franklin?¡¯


    Franklin nodded. ¡®Exactly. Win-win.¡¯


    He looked over at me, noticed I¡¯d stopped rolling my eyes and ying with the knife, so he rxed his shoulders and gave me this smug little nod, like we were on the same team.


    He raised his ss to Maxwell. ¡®Once wend the contract, we¡¯ll make sure you¡¯re taken care of, Mr Maxwell. Hope you¡¯ll put in a good word during the final round.¡¯


    Maxwell grinned. ¡®That won¡¯t be a problem.¡¯


    Franklin clinked sses with him.


    I leaned in, kept my voice casual. ¡®So... you¡¯re not worried someone¡¯ll trace the cash? Or do you just insist on paper envelopes and stash them under your mattress?¡¯


    Gary let out a shortugh, puffed up. He didn¡¯t touch me this time, just inched closer and switched to a patronising tone.


    ¡®My wife deals antiques. All your dad has to do is pick out a vase and pay. That¡¯s it. It¡¯s all legal. Clean as a whistle.¡¯


    ¡®Oh. That¡¯s¡ª¡¯ I paused. The shock in my voice wasn¡¯t fake. ¡®That¡¯s clever. The stuff¡¯s worthless, isn¡¯t it? Cracked junk no one else wants, but it still sells for ridiculous amounts. So technically, no one¡¯s paying you. They¡¯re just overpaying for garbage. Your wife pockets the profit, and your hands stay clean.¡¯


    Maxwell beamed. ¡®You¡¯re sharper than I thought, Miss Vance. Now you believe I¡¯m worth nine figures?¡¯


    I exhaled slowly. ¡®You¡¯ve got nerve, I¡¯ll give you that. But if your boss finds out, you¡¯ll be pissing in a bucket at Rikers for the next twenty years.¡¯


    His face twitched.


    Franklin saw it too and immediately snapped at me. ¡®Don¡¯t talk rubbish. Mr Maxwell is a cornerstone at LGH. There¡¯s no way someone like him¡¯s getting arrested.¡¯


    I smirked. ¡®Oh yeah? You think he¡¯s more untouchable than Ashton Laurent, the big boss himself?¡¯


    Preston narrowed his eyes. ¡®Don¡¯t be ridiculous. You talk as if you actually know him.¡¯


    He scoffed. ¡®Last I heard, you were swanning around iming you¡¯d married Ashton Laurent. Still clinging to that fantasy, are you? Dropping his name like it gives you clout.¡¯


    ¡®You don¡¯t believe I married him?¡¯


    Prestonughed. ¡®That might¡¯ve worked on Aunt Caroline, but not me. You never brought him home, never even showed a photo. Probably realised you couldn¡¯t keep the lie going and dropped the act. And now you¡¯re using his name? You sound unhinged.¡¯


    ¡®I do know him. And if you¡¯re not careful, I might take all this straight to Ashton.¡¯

 Chapter 133 - 134 Playing Pretend

    <h4>Chapter 133: Chapter 134 ying Pretend</h4>


    The room fell silent.


    Then someone snorted.


    Then all three of them burst outughing.


    ¡®She¡¯s lost it.¡¯


    ¡®Ashton Laurent? Come on, Mira. Pick a more believable name next time.¡¯


    ¡®You expect anyone to buy that?¡¯


    Maxwell swirled his wine. ¡®Miss Vance, don¡¯t joke like that. I¡¯m the Senior VP, and I see Mr Laurent maybe once a year. You think he¡¯s just sitting around waiting for you to text him?¡¯


    I tapped the table. ¡®You¡¯re really not scared I¡¯ll report you?¡¯


    He shrugged. ¡®I told you what I did because I don¡¯t care if it gets out. Besides, you¡¯re not going to do anything.¡¯


    I reached across the table, picked up my phone, and held it up. ¡®And if I recorded everything just now?¡¯


    ¡®Sure you did,¡¯ he said, lips stretched in a smug,zy smile.


    ¡®Oh, I sure did.¡¯ I tilted the screen towards him. ¡®And I¡¯m sending it to Ashton Laurent right now.¡¯


    Maxwell snorted out a scornfulugh. ¡®Oh,e on. Are we still ying pretend?¡¯


    He turned to Franklin. ¡®You didn¡¯t tell me your daughter¡¯s¡ª¡¯


    The door swung open. Not gently. The handle mmed against the wall with a t crack.


    Ashton stormed in.


    His stare swept across the room, then locked straight onto Gary Maxwell.


    Maxwell¡¯sugh died in his throat.


    No one moved.


    Then Maxwell scrambled up so fast his chair scraped the floor. ¡®Mr Laurent¡ªsir¡ªI didn¡¯t expect¡ªI mean, I didn¡¯t know you wereing¡ª¡¯


    Franklin and Preston froze mid-breath.


    The moment Maxwell said Ashton¡¯s name, they jumped up so fast they nearly tripped over their own feet.


    ¡®M-Mr Laurent,¡¯ Franklin stammered.


    ¡®Mr Laurent,¡¯ Preston echoed dumbly.


    I stayed seated.


    Franklin hissed under his breath, ¡®Stand up. That¡¯s Mr Laurent from LGH¡ªwhat the hell¡¯s wrong with you? Get up!¡¯


    I gave him a sideways nce. Still didn¡¯t move.


    He started sweating through his shirt.


    Franklin and Preston, seated nearest the door, blocked Ashton¡¯s path without realising.


    He stopped where he was, gaze cutting through the silence.


    He didn¡¯t say a word.


    Maxwell started twitching.


    ¡®Mr Laurent, I was just¡ªthis is just a business dinner. I¡¯ve been doing due diligence. Research. Vetting suppliers. Logistics firms, you know¡ª¡¯


    He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.


    His face was still blotchy from the whisky, but the colour had drained from around his mouth.


    Getting no reply from his boss¡¯s boss, Maxwell tried again. ¡®Such a pleasant surprise for you to join us, Mr Laurent. Why don¡¯t we all sit down, talk it through¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Yes, yes!¡¯ Franklin jumped in. ¡®Please, let¡¯s sit! Preston, order more food¡ªquickly!¡¯


    Maxwell bent so low I thought he might kiss Ashton¡¯s shoes. He gestured at the table with both hands. ¡®Please. Sir, make yourselffortable¡ª¡¯


    Ashton didn¡¯t move. He looked at Maxwell¡¯s hands the same way an executioner at the guillotine might eye a condemned man¡¯s neck.


    Maxwell hesitated. He looked down at his hands as if searching for blood stains. Then he tried to shove them behind his back.


    But Ashton grabbed his meaty wrist.


    His grip tightened slowly, steadily, until the tendons in Gary¡¯s wrist started pushing against his skin.


    ¡®Mr Laurent?¡¯ Maxwell was in pain, sweat pouring down his face.


    ¡®Which hand touched my wife?¡¯


    Maxwell gulped, mouth open. ¡®Wife? What wife? I don¡¯t¡ªI mean, who¡ª¡¯


    I cleared my throat, loud enough to turn heads.


    Then I raised my hand like I was back in Year Nine maths ss.


    ¡®Me,¡¯ I said. ¡®I¡¯m the wife.¡¯


    Franklin almost dislocated his neck, whipping around so fast.


    I pointed at Maxwell¡¯s arm. ¡®Wrong hand. It was the left.¡¯


    Ashton grabbed the man¡¯s left wrist and twisted hard.


    A loud snap cracked through the room.


    Maxwell screamed. His knees buckled.


    Franklin and Preston jumped back like someone had fired a gun.


    I flinched too.


    The angle of Maxwell¡¯s hand was all wrong, bent backwards with knuckles pointing towards his elbow.


    I winced and turned away.


    That wrist was noting back from that.


    Maxwell sat on the floor in a heap, blinking at his damaged wrist like he couldn¡¯t believe his eyes.


    Then the full extent of the pain, dulled by alcohol, finally hit him.


    He started screaming.


    And kept screaming.


    He clutched his arm, mouth wide, face white as a sheet.


    His howling bounced off the walls, sharp and high and desperate, like a dog being disembowelled.


    He didn¡¯t roll around, but it looked like he wanted to.


    His voice, when he managed to find it, was high-pitched and wheezing. ¡®M-Mr Laurent, it¡¯s a misunderstanding. I didn¡¯t mean anything... I didn¡¯t touch her, I swear!¡¯


    I cut him off, ¡®You grabbed me in front of half the room, and now it¡¯s a misunderstanding?¡¯


    He shook his head. ¡®I wasn¡¯t trying to grab you. It was a handshake.¡¯


    ¡®Was it?¡¯ I smiled.


    He flinched like I¡¯d pulled a knife.


    ¡®I was invited by Vance Ovend. By your father. We were discussing business. That¡¯s all. I wouldn¡¯t¡ªI mean, I didn¡¯t¡ª¡¯


    His eyes flicked to Franklin, desperate for help.


    Franklin didn¡¯t move.


    He stared at the floor like it might offer him an escape route.


    I shrugged. ¡®Setting aside the grope disguised as a handshake, there¡¯s a more important issue at stake. Mr Maxwell here epted a bribe. He was this close to settling the kickback terms before dessert. Not his first time, either. He¡¯s skimmed at least nine figures over the years.¡¯


    I looked at Ashton. ¡®That¡¯s straight from the horse¡¯s mouth. LGH had an internal audit department, right? Might want to ask them to look into that.¡¯


    Maxwell¡¯s forehead was drenched.


    Sweat soaked the cor of his shirt and ran down his temples like he¡¯d just crawled out of a sauna in a suit.


    ¡®That¡¯s not true,¡¯ he protested weakly. ¡®I¡¯ve worked at LGH for years. I¡¯ve always followed the rules. I was just joking. Must¡¯ve been the wine... Someone misunderstood. Right, Franklin?¡¯

 Chapter 134 - 135 Arrest Them All

    <h4>Chapter 134: Chapter 135 Arrest Them All</h4>


    Maxwell kept twitching his eyes at Franklin like he was sending a Morse code signal.


    Franklin finally spoke up, stiff as a broomstick. ¡®Yes... it was just business talk. Regr discussion. Nothing else. Mr Maxwell was asking about ourpliance structure. He said he was impressed. Wanted to examine it more closely...¡¯


    Preston jumped in. ¡®Mira probably misunderstood. She doesn¡¯t work at thepany. She doesn¡¯t understand the industry lingo.¡¯


    Ashton turned to me.


    I lifted my phone. ¡®I recorded everything. The entire conversation. I don¡¯t understand industry lingo? Fine, we¡¯ll get someone who does understand. Maybe an in-housewyer from Ethics & Compliance.¡¯


    Maxwell refused to admit defeat. ¡®Audio can be doctored. Everyone knows that.¡¯


    I stared at him. ¡®Let¡¯s y it now. We¡¯ll see how doctored it sounds.¡¯


    ¡®Wait!¡¯ Maxwell tried to stand up, failed, slumped back. ¡®Mr Laurent, sir, I¡¯ve worked for thepany for more than a decade. You¡¯ve got to believe me! She¡ªMrs Laurent, your wife, she¡¯s not a businesswoman. Perhaps there¡¯s some slight misunderstanding earlier. I apologise for my behaviour if it offended her. But I swear I didn¡¯t ask for bribes. She¡¯s twisting my words¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Jesus, you¡¯re unbelievable.¡¯ I lifted my thumb to hit y. ¡®Let¡¯s hear your own words.¡¯


    Ashton sidestepped Maxwell¡¯s bulk and came up to me. ¡®That¡¯s not necessary. I believe you.¡¯


    ¡®Mr Laurent!¡¯


    Ashton cut him off. ¡®You¡¯re done. She doesn¡¯t need to y it. If you think I¡¯m just taking her word for it, we¡¯ll send the file straight to Digital Forensics.¡¯


    Dominic Everett stepped in right on cue.


    ¡®Call the police, Dom,¡¯ Ashton said. ¡®Gary Maxwell is dismissed from Laurent Systems & Solutions, effective immediately. LGH is pressing criminal charges against him for epting bribes, fraud, breach of fiduciary duty, you know the drill. Mira¡¯s got the recording. Give it all to the police.¡¯


    Dominic nodded.


    He stepped out to make a call and returned with two men, who hauled Maxwell to his feet and dragged him out.


    ¡®Now, just the family left.¡¯ I turned to Franklin and Preston. ¡®So. You set me up. Is Miss Davis actually on her way here, or was that bullshit too?¡¯


    I hadn¡¯t believed it from the start.


    The voice message had sounded too convenient.


    Still, it had been her voice. Just like I¡¯d remembered. Just enough to make me second-guess myself.


    Maybe Caroline had bumped into her. Maybe they were all in on it.


    But it was hard to believe Miss Davis would willingly collude with Caroline and Franklin.


    ¡®Where¡¯s Caroline?¡¯ I demanded.


    I¡¯d long since stopped calling her Mum; she¡¯d forfeited that right a long time ago.


    Franklin blinked himself back to the present. The shock on his face hadn¡¯t worn off, though.


    He kept looking at Ashton as if he still couldn¡¯t believe he was really here.


    ¡®She¡¯s, um...¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t say she¡¯s on her way here.¡¯ I rapped on the table. ¡®That lie¡¯s getting old fast. And Miss Davis, call her. Ask her what¡¯s going on.¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯s um...¡¯ Franklin licked his lips. ¡®Miss Davis was here for a conference. She was supposed to leave in two days. But, um, apparently, something came up. She had to leave early¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Bullshit. She sent the invitation at six-thirty. I got here at eight. That¡¯s barely ny minutes. She vanished from the city in that time without a word? Try again. And don¡¯t tell me you don¡¯t have her number.¡¯


    He flushed dark pink.


    Preston stole a nce at Ashton, whose silence seemed to embolden him. ¡®She said she had to go. What were we supposed to do? Cuff her to the bloody table?¡¯


    ¡®So, that voice message was fake.¡¯ I reached for my phone. ¡®I¡¯m calling the police.¡¯


    ¡®Wait¡ªdon¡¯t!¡¯ He would have lunged for my phone if there hadn¡¯t been a table between us. ¡®So what if it was fake? What¡¯s the big deal? Why must you drag the cops into everything?¡¯


    ¡®Why are you so afraid of the cops if you¡¯ve got nothing to hide?¡¯ I shot back.


    His eyes darted away.


    Ashton looked up from his phone. ¡®The police are on their way.¡¯


    I looked at him. ¡®You called them?¡¯


    ¡®Dom did. To arrest Maxwell. But they might as well take a look into this case.¡¯ He reached for my hand. ¡®Let¡¯s go.¡¯


    ¡®No¡ªwait!¡¯ Preston leapt to block the doorway. ¡®We were just messing around, alright? It was just a joke.¡¯


    I crossed my arms. ¡®What joke?¡¯


    He hesitated, blinked twice, then gave up. ¡®The voice message. It was AI. Aunt Caroline saw a clip of Miss Davis online, ran it through some app. Synthesised the audio. Made it sound like a personal message.¡¯


    I looked at my so-called father. Wanted to ask what part he yed in this. Was it his idea? Or did he just go along with whatever Caroline did, as usual?


    But I said nothing.


    There was no point.


    Ashton gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze.


    ¡®I¡¯m fine,¡¯ I muttered.


    He turned his head towards the door.


    ¡®Sir, the police are here,¡¯ Dominic said. ¡®Gary Maxwell has been taken into custody.¡¯


    I had long since stopped marvelling at how scarily fast Ashton¡¯s people moved.


    ¡®Good. Ask them to step in. Franklin and Preston Vance are involved in conspiracy tomit a crime, harassment, cyberstalking, false pretences. Don¡¯t forget to add Caroline Vance¡¯s name to the list.¡¯


    Preston shouted, ¡®We didn¡¯t do anything! It was a joke!¡¯


    Didn¡¯t matter how loud he yelled.


    Dominic came through the door with two officers behind him.


    Preston and Franklin were dragged out like bin bags on collection day.


    Once the door shut, the silence hit hard.


    My shoulders dropped.


    First time I¡¯d taken a full breath since walking into 108.


    I smiled at Ashton. ¡®Good thing you were already at The Corner Table.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t smile back.


    His expression had turned sharp, worse than when he¡¯d walked in.


    ¡®What is it?¡¯


    His tone was t. ¡®What if I hadn¡¯t been?¡¯

 Chapter 135 - 136 Works Both Ways

    <h4>Chapter 135: Chapter 136 Works Both Ways</h4>


    I blinked. ¡®What do you mean?¡¯


    ¡®If I hadn¡¯t been here, do you have any idea how dangerous this could¡¯ve got?¡¯


    ¡®I...¡¯ I hesitated.


    He wasn¡¯t yelling. That somehow made it worse.


    ¡®I didn¡¯t know it would turn into this. I heard Miss Davis¡¯s voice note. She asked me to dinner. I wasn¡¯t going to ignore it.¡¯


    ¡®And once you realised it was a setup, why didn¡¯t you leave immediately?¡¯


    ¡®I couldn¡¯t. Not right away.¡¯


    He tugged at his tie and exhaled heavily.


    ¡®Why didn¡¯t you call me?¡¯


    I shrugged, sheepish. ¡®I wanted to see what they were up to. And then I found out about Gary Maxwell taking bribes. I got, um, interested.¡¯


    ¡®So you stayed and talked to him, knowing full well he had designs on you?¡¯


    ¡®I can take care of myself,¡¯ I protested. ¡®Fine, yeah, maybe I took a risk, but it was a minimal one. This is a public ce. If things go wrong, I could yell. And I didn¡¯t drink any of the wine.¡¯


    That seemed to cate him somewhat.


    At least his jaw was no longer clenched.


    ¡®I got him to spill how much he took and how he did it. On record. That should make things easier for the police, right?¡¯


    Ashton stared at me like he wanted to drag me back in time and throttle me. Then he gave a dryugh and shook his head.


    ¡®Yes, it would, but you didn¡¯t have to do it.¡¯


    ¡®Hey, you¡¯re the one who always says that we are a couple. Anything that affects me affects you. I figured it works both ways. Anything that affects you, affects me too.¡¯


    He nodded. ¡®That¡¯s true.¡¯


    I grinned. ¡®So now it¡¯s all sorted, you can head back to your dinner thing. Your guests are probably wondering where you disappeared off to.¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯ He took my hand. ¡®We¡¯re going home.¡¯


    ¡®What about your guests?¡¯


    ¡®Dom can handle it.¡¯


    His driver was already parked outside. We slid into the back seat, doors shutting with a quiet thud.


    I nced at him. ¡®You walking out like that¡ªare you sure it¡¯s okay?¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s fine. My VP¡¯s there. And Dominic knows what to say.¡¯


    ¡®Right.¡¯


    He turned his head and looked at me, making sure we had eye contact before he spoke. ¡®Next time something like this happens, call me. Straight away.¡¯


    ¡®I will.¡¯ Then I added in self-defence, ¡®I did text you, though.¡¯


    ¡®What if I didn¡¯t see your text in time?¡¯


    ¡®By the same logic, maybe you wouldn¡¯t have got my call in time,¡¯ I pointed out. ¡®Your phone could be set to silent mode. Or you could be in a meeting...¡¯ My voice trailed off under his stern gaze. ¡®Fine. I got it. Call next time. Don¡¯t text.¡¯


    ¡®I mean it. Doesn¡¯t matter what it is, youe to me.¡¯


    The car moved smoothly through traffic.


    I took a breath. ¡®Okay. And thank you. For today. And for what you did with Priya¡¯s parents. Really.¡¯


    ¡®You don¡¯t have to keep saying thank you. Not with me.¡¯


    ¡®Got it. I¡¯ll write it down.¡¯ I leaned back, shifted until I found a good spot, then looked over at him. ¡®Actually, I do need your help with something else. It¡¯s serious.¡¯


    He straightened. ¡®What is it?¡¯


    I kept my face deadpan. ¡®I haven¡¯t had dinner. I¡¯m starving. Let¡¯s get home. Fast.¡¯


    He repeated it softly. ¡®Home.¡¯ Then he smiled. ¡®Alright.¡¯


    ***


    Ashton updated me two dayster¡ªCaroline, Franklin, and Preston were out.


    Paid their fines, no charges stuck.


    But that was all he said.


    I didn¡¯t get the full picture until Yvaine called.


    ¡®Hey, Mira,¡¯ she said as soon as I picked up. ¡®Random question¡ªhow do you feel about weddings?¡¯


    ¡®Love the jewellery. Hate the seating charts. Why?¡¯


    ¡®My cousin¡¯s getting married. Total bridezi, but she¡¯s obsessed with your designs. Wants a custom set.¡¯


    ¡®Send me her mood board. I¡¯ll do it.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re a saint.¡¯


    ¡®Liar. How¡¯s Cassian?¡¯


    There was a pause.


    ¡®I resigned from the modelling gig,¡¯ she said, tantly changing the subject.


    ¡®Again?¡¯


    ¡®Got bored with it.¡¯


    I could almost see her shrug. ¡®You never stick to anything for more than three months.¡¯


    ¡®Some things aren¡¯t meant to be long-term.¡¯


    ¡®Cassian included?¡¯


    Another pause. Then¡ª


    ¡®Guess what,¡¯ she said quickly. ¡®I ran into someone who lives next to your parents. She heard about the whole police thing. Told me everything.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah? Ashton said they got out, but that¡¯s all I know.¡¯


    ¡®Oh, honey. It was a circus. They stuck to the ¡°just a prank¡± story. Said the doctored audio was AI-generated, just family fun, didn¡¯t know it was illegal. Cops couldn¡¯t make anything stick, so they each paid a thousand-dor fine and walked.¡¯


    ¡®And then?¡¯


    ¡®Caroline went off the moment they reached home. ¡°We¡¯re her only family left in the bloody world¡± this, ¡°heartless cow¡± that. Franklin looked like he was ready to strangle her.¡¯


    I rubbed my temple. ¡®Sounds about right.¡¯


    ¡®They kept snapping at each other. Preston told them both to shut it. It was Serenna who picked them up, by the way.¡¯


    ¡®Should¡¯ve expected it,¡¯ I muttered. ¡®Aren¡¯t they one big happy family.¡¯


    ¡®Caroline didn¡¯t shut up. The neighbour could hear her from across the fence. Preston finally lost it, told her you were married into power now and all she was doing was whining like a loser.¡¯


    I leaned back in my chair. ¡®Did they say anything about Ashton?¡¯


    ¡®Plenty. Serenna and Caroline were trying to figure out when it happened. Caroline was ranting about how you must¡¯ve lined him up before you left Rhys. Franklin finally snapped. Said your marriage was the best thing to ever happen to the family.¡¯


    ¡®Of course he did.¡¯


    ¡®And Preston¡ªget this¡ªsaid they should call and apologise. Said they needed you on their side.¡¯


    ¡®I didn¡¯t get a call from him.¡¯


    ¡®I think it was Caroline who called.¡¯


    ¡®Oh, I blocked her number.¡¯


    Yvaineughed. ¡®Good call.¡¯


    But apparently, not good enough.

 Chapter 136 - 137 The Boss’s Wife

    <h4>Chapter 136: Chapter 137 The Boss¡¯s Wife</h4>


    The phone rang to thest second before I picked up.


    ¡®What do you want?¡¯ My voice came out t, because I wasn¡¯t in the mood to pretend.


    I¡¯d blocked Caroline¡¯s number, Preston¡¯s number, Catherine¡¯s, Serenna¡¯s.


    I¡¯d even set my phone to filter all unknown calls.


    But one number slipped through.


    Franklin called me so rarely that I forgot I even had his number.


    He jumped straight into damage control. ¡®Mirabelle, sweetheart, we just got out. Total misunderstanding, that whole thing. I wanted to apologise¡ª¡¯


    ¡®If that¡¯s it, I¡¯m hanging up.¡¯


    ¡®No, no, wait¡ª¡¯ His tone flipped like a switch. ¡®I was thinking, if you¡¯re free, maybee home for dinner sometime?¡¯


    He said ¡®dinner¡¯, I heard ¡®trap¡¯.


    ¡®You actually think I¡¯d sit down and eat with your lot again?¡¯


    Silence. Then some pathetic throat-clearing. ¡®That was all in the past. This time we¡¯ll treat you right, promise. Proper wee and everything.¡¯


    He hesitated, then added, ¡®You didn¡¯t even tell us about the wedding. Not a word. We missed the whole thing. Bring Ashton when youe, yeah? Would love to meet my son-inw.¡¯


    ¡®Not happening.¡¯


    ¡®I get it, you¡¯re busy. But surely you can spare an hour for a meal¡ª¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll think about it.¡¯ I ended the call without waiting for his reply.


    Then I blocked his number.


    I tossed my phone on the breakroom counter and stared at the coffee I¡¯d just made.


    It had gone lukewarm while I listened to that bullshit.


    I didn¡¯t bother drinking it.


    The office felt strange today.


    Everyone was too cheerful.


    Since Ashton showed up, people who barely said a word to me before were suddenly offering me snacks and shing fake smiles.


    The desk across from mine¡ªwhere the loudest gossip usually started¡ªhad sent over a basket of snacks before lunch.


    Full of imported choctes and air-popped crisps I didn¡¯t even like.


    The ones I used to actually speak to? They¡¯d started acting awkward. Polite. Careful.


    I tried to focus on my sketches, but every few minutes, I could feel someone watching me.


    But the second I looked up, everyone was buried in their screens like I¡¯d imagined it.


    I dragged Zara into the breakroom and shut the door behind us.


    ¡®Alright, spill. Why is everyone acting like I walked in with a bomb vest?¡¯


    Zara groaned and dropped into a chair. ¡®Mira, babe, you¡¯re married to the CEO of LGH. Your husband is our boss¡¯s boss. You think people are gonna ck off next to the boss¡¯s wife? Everyone¡¯s terrified you¡¯ll report them if they even blink too long.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s insane. I¡¯ve got my own work to do, I¡¯m not spying on anyone.¡¯


    She narrowed her eyes. ¡®Swear you¡¯re not snitching?¡¯


    ¡®Swear on my favourite ring. Jesus, I don¡¯t even care if you lot take a three-hour lunch break.¡¯


    Zara grinned. ¡®You say that, but no one else believes it. They¡¯re all sitting up straight like schoolkids. I¡¯m the only one with a death wish, apparently.¡¯ She straightened and stretched. ¡®Anyway, if you¡¯re not gonna rat, I¡¯m off to ¡°check the supply closet¡± for forty-five minutes.¡¯


    I watched her leave, then went back to my desk.


    The tension was still thick.


    Nobody spoke.


    The sound of a chair scooting across the floor was so careful it may as well have been staged.


    It was ridiculous.


    I couldn¡¯t breathe in that atmosphere, let alone work.


    If this carried on, I¡¯d lose my mind before I finished a single sketch.


    So I stood up, walked straight to Savannah¡¯s office, and pushed the door open without knocking.


    She jumped up from her chair like she¡¯d been waiting for me. ¡®Mirabelle! Come in,e in!¡¯


    She hurried over, smiling like we were best friends.


    She even pulled the chair out for me, which had never happened before.


    I sat down and got to the point. ¡®Vanna, I need to talk to you about something. I think¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Mirabelle, darling, I was just going to look for you. You¡¯re the boss now. Which means you can¡¯t keep cramming into the open office with the others. I¡¯ve sorted a private space for you. They¡¯re cleaning it now, should be done. Come, let¡¯s go have a look.¡¯


    ¡®A private office?¡¯


    It might help.


    People out there might actually rx if I wasn¡¯t breathing down their necks.


    But I liked the noise. The chatter.


    Moving into some quiet cave didn¡¯t exactly thrill me.


    Savannah kept nudging until I followed her.


    The space used to be storage. Now it was spotless. The floor shone. Not a speck of dust.


    But all it had was a single desk and one stiff-looking chair.


    ¡®It wasst-minute,¡¯ she said quickly. ¡®Give me three days and I¡¯ll furnish the rest. Just bear with it.¡¯


    I nced around. The room was small, the walls close. One narrow window faced a brick wall. No light came in.


    On a grey day, I¡¯d need the overhead fluorescents even at noon.


    She must¡¯ve caught my face. ¡®There¡¯s no other room avable right now. If you hate it, take mine. I¡¯ll swap.¡¯


    I waved her off. ¡®No need.¡¯


    She exhaled.


    ¡®Look, you sitting out there with the team¡ªit¡¯s too much for them. They¡¯re all on edge. You¡¯ve noticed it, haven¡¯t you?¡¯


    ¡®I have.¡¯ I nodded. ¡®That¡¯s actually why I came to talk to you. See if something can be done about it.¡¯


    ¡®You having your own office is the solution. You¡¯re the boss. So act like one.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not the boss.¡¯


    ¡®The boss¡¯s wife.¡¯ She shrugged. ¡®Potaytoes, potahtoes.¡¯


    I hadn¡¯t nned to be the boss of Nyx Collective.


    But Ashton bought it.


    And now everyone looked at me like I was supposed to have airs and a stick up my arse.


    The room was still dim, even with the overheads on.


    A few days in here and I¡¯d lose the will to keep my eyes open, let alone design anything.


    But I couldn¡¯t boot Savannah out of her space either, so I agreed to stay. For now.


    After she left, I sat down.


    The air felt thin. My shoulders tightened.


    I couldn¡¯t focus on anything except how badly I wanted to leave.

 Chapter 137 - 138 New Beginning

    <h4>Chapter 137: Chapter 138 New Beginning</h4>


    I was grateful Ashton had taken over thepany. I was.


    But staying here like this¡ªbeing the face of the brand, walking around with a title that didn¡¯t belong to me¡ªit was already messing with my head.


    I hadn¡¯t designed a single new piece since the buyout.


    My ideas felt second-guessed before they even reached the sketchpad.


    While I was debating whether I could fake an allergy to the paint fumes and flee, my phone buzzed.


    Bank notification. Another two million hadnded.


    Monthly transfer, on schedule.


    I hadn¡¯t even used thest batch.


    Okay, I had bought some clothes, a few handbags. That was it.


    Add the ten million Ashton had wrangled out of his father and evil stepmother back at that birthday dinner, and my ount was now sitting pretty at just under fifteen million.


    I stared at the number.


    My fingers started moving before my brain caught up.


    A studio. My own. Small, focused, mine.


    Even with Skyline¡¯s real estate prices, where a ck market heart transnt might be cheaper than your own t, I could still afford a decent space with the money I had now.


    And I would have enough left over to cover everything else: staff, furniture, utilities, casting tools, inventory.


    I could make it a niche brand¡ªcustommissions, limited drops, high-end but personal.


    If I could convince Octavia to mention my studio in her post, we¡¯d have credibility from day one.


    I wouldn¡¯t need investors. I wouldn¡¯t owe anyone anything.


    It was what I used to dream about.


    Now it didn¡¯t just feel possible¡ªit felt overdue.


    I couldn¡¯t sit still.


    Pacing, as much as the space allowed me to, I was about to call Ashton, then figured, given the time of day, he was probably in a meeting.


    I switched to text instead.


    He replied before I sat down.


    [Do whatever you want. You have my full support. Go for it.]


    I read it again. And again.


    My fingers curled around the phone.


    A slow heat spread through my chest, steady and grounding, like the rush you get after stepping into a hot shower on a freezing day.


    I felt settled. Clear-headed. Ready to tear the world a new one.


    Then I messaged Yvaine.


    [Thinking about opening my own studio. Thoughts?]


    Yvaine: [Finally. I¡¯ve been waiting for you to get out of Nyx Collective. When Octavia tagged youst month, I heard a bunch of brands were sniffing around.]


    Me: [They were all tiny. None better than Nyx.]


    Yvaine: [Which is why you should do your own thing. Pick a space. Don¡¯t just sit around in that sad office.]


    Then she called me.


    ¡®I¡¯ve got time this week,¡¯ she said. ¡®Bored out of my mind. Let¡¯s go location hunting.¡¯


    We met that afternoon.


    The next day, we found the ce.


    One street over from Nyx, tucked between a tea shop and some massage ce with tinted windows.


    It used to be a florist. The owner was moving away and needed to let it go fast.


    There was a huge ss window out front, clean and high. The sunlight came straight through, bright and even.


    The walls were pale cream, no weird murals or tacky decals.


    Just a clean space that smelled faintly of eucalyptus.


    There was a narrow staircase tucked into the back wall that led up to a second floor.


    I could already see it¡ªguest lounge, private client meetings, maybe even a coffee bar if I had money left over after the renovations.


    I walked around twice, touching the walls, checking the flooring for squeaks, looking at the wiring.


    It was perfect.


    Big enough without feeling empty. Modern finishes, decentyout, and no stupid columns in the middle of the room.


    Yvaine liked it too. Mostly because across the street, there was a cake shop also up for grabs.


    ¡®I¡¯m taking that one,¡¯ she said immediately. ¡®If I run a bakery, maybe my mum will stop using me of freeloading. And Emmett can shut the hell up for once.¡¯


    ¡®You and Emmett still at war?¡¯


    She rolled her eyes. ¡®He said I¡¯m an idiot, called me immature. He barely talks to me now. Won¡¯t even look at me if we¡¯re in the same room. But he¡¯s full of shit. I¡¯m his only sister. He¡¯lle crawling back when I¡¯m rich.¡¯


    She pushed her hair off her face and grinned. ¡®Once I¡¯m the boss of a whole empire, he¡¯ll be the one begging for meetings.¡¯


    ¡®An empire built on cakes?¡¯


    ¡®Why not? Frederick Belmont could do it. Why not me?¡¯


    That spark in her voice pulled me in. I wanted in on the empire-building too.


    ¡®What are you doing with the shop?¡¯


    ¡®Cake, for now.¡¯


    ¡®You know how to bake?¡¯


    ¡®God, no.¡¯ Sheughed. ¡®I¡¯m getting it gutted and hiring someone who won¡¯t set the kitchen on fire. Me, I¡¯ll be the manager and official taster. And you¡¯ll be my first VIP customer.¡¯


    ¡®Fine by me.¡¯


    We went out for dinner that night. She picked a ce with brick walls and dim lights and actual cloth napkins.


    Her good moodsted all the way through to dessert. ¡®Once we¡¯re both moved in, I cane over anytime. No more waiting for you to get off work. I can just cross the road.¡¯


    ¡®That reminds me.¡¯ I frowned thoughtfully. ¡®I should install an inte. No unsolicited visitors.¡¯


    She ignored me and raised her ss. ¡®To the future.¡¯


    I lifted mine. ¡®To the future.¡¯


    We clinked and drank.


    Once we signed the leases, we started renovations. Mine first.


    Most of the florist¡¯s stuff was useless¡ªcracked shelving, rusted hooks, water-stained counters.


    Everything had to go.


    Yvaine stuck a ¡®Closed for Renovation¡¯ sign on her shop and left it alone.


    She said she¡¯d deal with itter.


    For now, she was too busy treating my studio like a real-life Tycoon game, gleefully bossing around contractors and haggling over cab handles.


    We were both drowning in packing tape and delivery boxes, so I texted Priya.

 Chapter 138 - 139 Third Wheel

    <h4>Chapter 138: Chapter 139 Third Wheel</h4>


    Priya didn¡¯t have a job yet, so I offered her one.


    Nothing fancy¡ªjust temp help, weekly pay, cash if she wanted.


    She showed up the next day in trainers and a messy bun, then carried a massive steel table up the stairs by herself without breaking a sweat.


    Yvaine watched her drag it into ce and muttered, ¡®How is she stronger than me and youbined?¡¯


    The studio was big¡ªtoo big for three people, even with Priya on beast mode.


    ¡®We need to hire someone,¡¯ I said.


    Yvaine stuck out her hand. ¡®Leave it to me. I know people. I¡¯ll find you someonepetent, punctual, and preferably not creepy.¡¯


    ¡®Great. Don¡¯t get scammed.¡¯


    I knew why she stuck around.


    She¡¯d had no time to go home this week, which meant she had not seen Emmett and, consequently, had not been yelled at all week.


    ¡®I barely texted Cassian.¡¯ She looked smug. ¡®Being busy suits me.¡¯


    ¡®Are youining or bragging?¡¯


    ¡®Neither. I like this. Real work. Once the cake shop¡¯s redone and I¡¯ve got proper staff, I might even turn it into one of those viral spots with the queues and the pastel walls.¡¯


    ¡®You will.¡¯


    She grinned at me, then tilted her head. ¡®Hey, do you want anything for your birthday?¡¯


    I blinked. I¡¯d actually forgotten it wasing up.


    I never made a big deal out of it.


    When I was younger, Caroline used to get me a cake, one of those stic-box ones with piped roses and stiff frosting.


    At some point, she stopped.


    No one else noticed.


    I doubted anyone in the Vance family still remembered the date.


    Catherine¡¯s birthday was 8 February.


    Mine was 8 December.


    Just two months apart. Easy to remember.


    Every year, the Vance family threw her a party at the house.


    Full guest list. Fancy catering. Gold balloons tied to the staircase.


    Catherine always wore something pastel and glittery and spent the evening waltzing betweenpliments.


    Two monthster, no one said a word.


    Eventually, I stopped caring.


    Half the time, I forgot the date myself.


    Only Yvaine remembered every year without fail, even when she was overseas.


    She always picked out something with annoying precision, like she¡¯d been spying on my browsing history.


    ¡®I don¡¯t want anything fancy,¡¯ I told her, sorting shippingbels at the workbench. ¡®Whatever you give me, I promise I¡¯ll like it.¡¯


    ¡®Noted,¡¯ she said, and bumped my hip with hers.


    We worked through the afternoon, arguing over which drawer should hold the burnisher set.


    Sheughed at how all the ring mandrels looked phallic.


    ¡®They evene in different sizes.¡¯


    ¡®Wait till you see the sausage stuffers in your own shop,¡¯ I said drily.


    ¡®Sausage stuffers!¡¯ She was rolling on the floor.


    I shook my head.


    Emmett had a point when he called his sister immature.


    I started packing up around six.


    Just as I was unplugging the steamer, I noticed a ck car idling outside the studio window.


    The number te looked familiar.


    A secondter, Ashton stepped out.


    I opened the door and leaned out. ¡®Passing by?¡¯


    ¡®No,¡¯ he said. ¡®I came to get you.¡¯ His eyes swept the room. ¡®Looks good.¡¯


    ¡®It is.¡¯ I eyed the space like a proud mother eyeing her firstborn.


    ¡®Ready to go? I made a reservation.¡¯


    ¡®I was just about to lock up.¡¯ I turned to Yvaine. ¡®Youing?¡¯


    ¡®And be the third wheel? No thanks. I¡¯ve got a date of my own.¡¯ Yvaine smiled ingratiatingly at Ashton, then sidled up to me and whispered, ¡®Your husband¡¯s kind of scary.¡¯


    ¡®Only if you¡¯ve done something wrong.¡¯ I thought of Gary Maxwell and wondered how he was coping in prison.


    ¡®He gives me the same vibes as Emmett. Also, my old headmaster.¡¯


    I turned to look at Ashton.


    He was holding open the car door for me.


    ¡®He looks like a perfect gentleman,¡¯ I said.


    Yvaine rolled her eyes. ¡®You¡¯re so smitten.¡¯


    ***


    The restaurant he chose was quiet, white-walled, with pale wooden chairs and linen napkins folded like envelopes.


    Piano music floated overhead, slow and loose, like whoever was ying didn¡¯t care about tempo.


    Ashton asked for a table by the window, slightly tucked away from the rest.


    As soon as we sat, I caught a few people ncing over.


    One woman at the bar tilted her head and stared for a beat too long.


    I got up to use thedies¡¯.


    When I came back, I caught the end of it.


    A girl¡ªcouldn¡¯t have been more than neen¡ªstood by our table, clutching her phone with both hands.


    She was shaking so slightly I wouldn¡¯t have noticed if the reflection in the window hadn¡¯t given her away.


    ¡®Hey, um... can I get your number?¡¯ she asked, smiling like her mouth wasn¡¯t sure what to do with itself.


    Ashton looked up just once. His mouth stayed shut.


    The girl hesitated, held her phone out anyway.


    ¡®Just, you know... to get to know each other.¡¯


    Ashton raised his left hand and tilted it slightly.


    The ring caught the overhead light.


    She saw it.


    Her eyes widened. Then she mumbled something and turned so fast her shoe slipped on the tile.


    I stopped just around the corner, waited until she disappeared past the hostess stand, then circled back and slid into my seat.


    The stern look on Ashton¡¯s face vanished, reced by an expectant one.


    It looked almost as if he wanted me to ask about the girl.


    Suppressing a grin, I reached for my water. ¡®You¡¯re not swamped at the office today?¡¯


    ¡®Quiet enough.¡¯ His face fell, just slightly. ¡®How¡¯s the studioing along?¡¯


    ¡®Fine so far.¡¯


    ¡®Do you need more money?¡¯


    ¡®No, no. God, no.¡¯ I almost choked. ¡®The money I¡¯m using now came from you anyway. Technically, it¡¯s your investment.¡¯


    I must have said something wrong, because that stern look was back.

 Chapter 139 - 140 Hard to Read

    <h4>Chapter 139: Chapter 140 Hard to Read</h4>


    ¡®That money was yours the moment I gave it to you,¡¯ Ashton said. ¡®But if it makes you feel uneasy, you could give me part of the studio in return. Forty-nine per cent?¡¯


    I considered it. ¡®Alright.¡¯


    His voice dropped. ¡®If we¡¯re talking share transfers, we¡¯ll need a contract. I¡¯ll get someone on it.¡¯


    ¡®We¡¯re going full corporate, huh? Fine. Use your legal team.¡¯


    ¡®Will do.¡¯


    Silence settled in.


    I watched a droplet of condensation roll down the side of my ss and disappear into the tablecloth.


    He didn¡¯t check his phone. Just kept looking out the window, posture still, expression unreadable.


    I cleared my throat. ¡®So... any update on Maxwell?¡¯


    ¡®Dismissed. Arrested. Under internal review for further sanctions. Legal¡¯s working on it.¡¯


    ¡®Was anyone else involved?¡¯


    ¡®Not that we know of.¡¯ He paused, then added, ¡®If there are, we¡¯ll find them.¡¯


    I nodded, fiddled with the stem of my ss. ¡®Right. Makes sense.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t say anything back.


    ¡®Sorry. I wasn¡¯t trying to imply anything. It¡¯s just¡ªnever mind.¡¯


    He nced over. ¡®You weren¡¯t.¡¯


    Another pause.


    ¡®Studio¡¯sing along,¡¯ I offered. ¡®Savannah cried when I quit. One single tear. She dabbed it dramatically with a tissue. I almost stayed out of guilt.¡¯


    His mouth twitched. Not quite a smile.


    ¡®I¡¯m still stuck on the name, though. I¡¯ve gone through fifty options and none of them feel right.¡¯


    He gave me a few suggestions, all of which were solid.


    I promised I¡¯d think it over.


    He nodded, then went quiet again. Not tense. Just... still.


    Yvaine had called him scary.


    I hadn¡¯t agreed. Not really.


    But I understood what she meant.


    He wasn¡¯t cold. Just... closed.


    Hard to read, harder to get close to.


    With Rhys, back in my hopeless fangirl days, I never hesitated.


    I¡¯d straight-up asked him what kind of coffee he liked, what trainers he wore, what toothpaste brand he preferred.


    But with Ashton, asking what he liked to eat felt... frivolous, like I was wasting his time.


    Still, I tried.


    ¡®Do you like seafood?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®Why?¡¯


    ¡®Just wondering.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s fine. Depends on the prep.¡¯


    ¡®Okay. And coffee or tea?¡¯


    A beat. ¡®ck coffee. No sugar.¡¯


    ¡®So not a fan of the little oat milkttes with foam hearts?¡¯


    His brow twitched. ¡®Not particrly.¡¯


    I gave a smallugh. ¡®Figures.¡¯


    He tilted his head. ¡®What does that mean?¡¯


    ¡®Nothing. Just... no foam hearts. Got it.¡¯


    Another stretch of silence passed.


    Not ufortable, exactly.


    Just a bit off-kilter.


    Like we were circling each other in a room with too much space.


    Before I realised it, the tes were cleared.


    The car was already waiting outside.


    We got in.


    The second the gate came into view, I spotted someone standing by the entrance.


    Tall frame, grey zer, arms stiff at his sides, gut hanging over the belt.


    I leaned forward, squinting.


    Franklin.


    I¡¯d ignored all his calls this week.


    He¡¯d changed his number, rung every day, left voicemails, even sent a few half-arsed texts.


    I¡¯d blocked the new number.


    Still, he¡¯d found me.


    I climbed out of the car.


    ¡®What the hell are you doing here?¡¯


    He held up two gift boxes, one in each hand, like they were some kind of peace treaty.


    I didn¡¯t touch them.


    He grinned. ¡®Thought I¡¯d drop these off. Just wanted to talk.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t answer.


    I knew he¡¯d tried calling Nyx Collective first. Found out I hadn¡¯t shown up in days.


    No one had told him where my new studio was, which meant he¡¯d tried the next best thing¡ªLGH headquarters.


    I could picture it: Franklin shouting at the girl behind reception, throwing the word ¡®your boss¡¯s father-inw¡¯ around like it meant something, until security dragged him out.


    Any reasonable person would¡¯ve taken the hint. Walked away.


    But Franklin wasn¡¯t reasonable.


    ¡®What do you want?¡¯ I didn¡¯t move to let him in.


    ¡®Mirabelle.¡¯ He sounded hurt. ¡®Can¡¯t I stop by without an agenda?¡¯


    I stared at his face and felt my jaw tighten.


    ¡®Didn¡¯t spend long enough at the station, did you? Couple more nights in holding and maybe you¡¯d be too busy to stalk me.¡¯


    To his credit, he didn¡¯t flinch. That stic smile slid right back on.


    ¡®Even while I was in there, I kept thinking about you. Weather¡¯s turning, you know, flu¡¯s going around. Just wanted to make sure you¡¯re staying warm¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Amazing what two nights in a cell can do. Twenty-three years of you pretending I didn¡¯t exist, then suddenly you care if I¡¯ve got a fever.¡¯


    He faltered, blinked again. ¡®I mean it. I do care.¡¯


    ¡®Save it. I¡¯m not in the mood. What do you want?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m just here to see you.¡¯


    I crossed my arms. ¡®You¡¯re here to kiss Ashton¡¯s arse. Don¡¯t bother.¡¯


    His smile cracked.


    He nced past me and spotted Ashton stepping out of the car behind me.


    His whole posture changed. He straightened, brushed invisible lint off his zer, and shoved past me.


    ¡®Ashton!¡¯ he called out, beaming. ¡®A fine evening, huh? I just came by to say congrattions. Which are long overdue. Didn¡¯t realise you and Mirabelle were married! If I¡¯d known...¡¯


    His grin stretched wider than it had with me, eyes crinkled, voice dripping with phoney warmth.


    He shoved the boxes forward.


    Ashton¡¯s brows drew together.


    Franklin didn¡¯t notice. Or didn¡¯t care.


    ¡®Mirabelle¡¯s always been a bit... private,¡¯ he went on, louder. ¡®Not great with people, no close mates, and Rhys... well, that didn¡¯t work out. But now? She¡¯s finally found her match. Warms my heart. I know you¡¯d treat her right.¡¯


    I pressed closer to Ashton and hooked my arm through his. ¡®Ignore him. Let¡¯s go inside.¡¯


    We turned. Took maybe three steps before Franklin started scurrying after us.


    ¡®Mirabelle! I went to all this effort to find you. Can¡¯t you spare ten minutes? Just a cup of coffee. It¡¯s windy out, don¡¯t be so cold.¡¯


    I grabbed Ashton¡¯s hand and picked up the pace.


    Then Franklin barked behind us: ¡®I¡¯m still your father. You can¡¯t dodge me forever. Maybe one day I¡¯ll visit your studio.¡¯


    Ashton hesitated. His steps slowed.

 Chapter 140 - 141 Visit from Father

    <h4>Chapter 140: Chapter 141 Visit from Father</h4>


    I tugged Ashton forward.


    ¡®Don¡¯t let him get in your head. I don¡¯t care if he shows up at the studio. I¡¯ll just throw him out myself.¡¯


    Franklin clocked Ashton¡¯s hesitation and pounced.


    ¡®You¡¯re a public figure,¡¯ he said loudly. ¡®And Mirabelle¡¯s been getting a lot of buzz online. If people find out how you treat family... it won¡¯t look good.¡¯


    Ashton stopped, turned.


    ¡®Come in.¡¯


    ¡®No!¡¯ I snapped, jabbing my fingers into his arm. ¡®He¡¯s not setting foot in the house. The second you let him through the door, he¡¯ll glue himself to the floor.¡¯


    Ashton patted my hand. ¡®I¡¯ve got it under control. He¡¯s not getting a thing.¡¯


    ¡®Then why let him in?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ve got something in mind.¡¯


    ¡®Care to share?¡¯


    Franklin had covered the distance between us with a few quick bounds. He chuckled. ¡®Knew you¡¯d understand, Ashton. Knew you¡¯d be reasonable.¡¯


    He shoved past me and sprinted through the doorway before one of us changed our mind.


    Once we were inside, I didn¡¯t even bother sitting. I red. ¡®Cut the crap. Why are you really here?¡¯


    He gave the room a once-over¡ªartwork, chandeliers, hand-carved trim.


    His pupils expanded.


    He masked it well, but I¡¯d lived with him long enough to know what was running through his head¡ªhow much of this can I get?


    He set down two gaudy red-and-gold gift boxes on the side table with a flourish.


    ¡®These bottles are from a centuries-old vineyard in France,¡¯ he announced. ¡®Aged just right. And these beans¡ªhand-roasted, old family recipe. I thought you two might enjoy them.¡¯


    Ashton motioned to the low sofa by the wall. ¡®Sit there.¡¯


    Franklin shuffled over and perched on the edge.


    When Carmen came over to see if we needed coffee, Ashton waved her away.


    His attitude reassured me somewhat.


    Still, I didn¡¯t get what he was ying at.


    Franklin cleared his throat. ¡®I just wanted to see Mirabelle. We only just heard about the marriage. Your mother and I werepletely in the dark. If we¡¯d known, we¡¯d have thrown a proper celebration. You didn¡¯t have to keep it from us.¡¯


    ¡®I didn¡¯t keep it,¡¯ I shot back. ¡®I told Caroline. Sheughed in my face.¡¯


    He chuckled awkwardly and rubbed his palms together. ¡®Well, your mother is... she¡¯s stubborn. Never mind her. You should¡¯vee to me straight.¡¯


    I snorted. ¡®I would¡¯ve, if I could find you.¡¯


    That shut him up for half a second.


    He opened his mouth, shut it again, tried to look hurt.


    It didn¡¯t take.


    ¡®I mean it, Mira, about what I said earlier. Let¡¯s throw a wedding. A big one. Book a whole ballroom, send out invitations, the works. You deserve a big day. I feel terrible we missed it. So, how about it? Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll cover everything.¡¯


    I rolled my eyes. ¡®Forget the wedding. You can make up for it with a present. Cash is fine. How much are you offering?¡¯


    His shoulders drooped.


    ¡®I wish I could give you everything,¡¯ he mumbled. ¡®But thepany¡¯s in a bad way. We¡¯ve lost several contracts, cash flow¡¯s tight. Honestly, I¡¯m hanging on by a thread.¡¯


    ¡®Is that why you tried to pimp me out to that creep Maxwell?¡¯


    ¡®No! Of course not! You are my daughter, I¡¯d never do anything to hurt you. It was supposed to be a business meeting. I didn¡¯t know Caroline had tricked you intoing with that fake audio until the police questioned her. She went behind my back. I already gave her a talking-to, told her not to pull this kind of stunt again...¡¯


    While he talked, he kept sneaking hopeful nces at Ashton.


    I was tempted to stand in front of Ashton to block his line of sight, but didn¡¯t, because that felt too childish.


    ¡®... with the way the economy is, you know how bad things can get. But I heard LGH¡¯s logistics branch has a few contracts up for grabs. Ashton, if you¡¯d let me handle a couple, or maybe back one of our proposals... we could bounce back fast. Once we¡¯re stable, I¡¯ll shower you both with gifts. Whatever you want.¡¯


    I opened my mouth, ready to rip into him, but Ashton beat me to it.


    ¡®If it¡¯s business, then we¡¯ll discuss it in the study.¡¯


    Franklin lit up. ¡®Of course. Yes, yes. Let¡¯s go.¡¯


    I tugged Ashton¡¯s sleeve and hissed, ¡®Don¡¯t. You can¡¯t hand him a single deal.¡¯


    He gave my hand a soft pat. ¡®Rx. I know what I¡¯m doing.¡¯


    The two of them headed upstairs.


    The moment they disappeared into the study, I tiptoed up after them, pressed my ear t to the door, and held my breath.


    Nothing.


    The soundproofing was too good. I might as well have been listening through a brick wall.


    I pulled out my phone and typed as fast as my thumbs could move.


    [Don¡¯t you dare say yes. I mean it. Don¡¯t give him anything.]


    [His logisticspany¡¯s a joke. Vance Ovend¡¯s never handled anything bigger than a garage move.]


    [I don¡¯t give a shit that he¡¯s family. That doesn¡¯t mean a thing to me. Don¡¯t do this to be nice to me, because I will NOT be nice about it if you actually help him.]


    [You let him in, he¡¯ll bleed you dry.]


    No reply.


    I stared at the screen. ¡®Read¡¯ receipts were on. He¡¯d seen everything and sent back nothing.


    I stomped back to the bedroom, shoved the door shut with my hip, and rolled up my sleeves.


    I started typing again.


    Every shady deal, every corner Franklin had cut, every idiot decision he¡¯d made that tanked thepany¡¯s reputation.


    My phone screen blurred from the speed of my typing.


    I didn¡¯t stop until my thumbs ached.

 Chapter 141 - 142 Ashton’s POV: She Deserves It

    <h4>Chapter 141: Chapter 142 Ashton¡¯s POV: She Deserves It</h4>


    Ashton entered the study first and walked straight to the leather chair behind the desk.


    He didn¡¯t speak. He didn¡¯t look up. He unlocked his phone, scrolled, tapped something, and stayed quiet.


    Franklin hovered near the centre of the rug, hands twitching at his sides, eyes darting around like he couldn¡¯t decide whether to sit or stay upright.


    Eventually, he stayed standing.


    Ashton kept scrolling.


    Franklin cleared his throat.


    No response.


    ¡®I know Mira¡¯s been... distant,¡¯ he started, his voice thin. ¡®She probably told you stuff about us. Some of it is true, I admit. But we raised her. She¡¯s got a temper, sure, but she¡¯s our daughter. Watching her do well now... it makes me proud.¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s eyes flicked up, then dropped back to the screen.


    Franklin kept going, his tone sliding into something meant to sound sentimental. ¡®She hardlyes home these days. I miss her. Her mother does too.¡¯


    The corners of Ashton¡¯s mouth twitched.


    Franklin perked up a little, mistaking it for warmth.


    Heunched into a nostalgic spiel about Mirabelle¡¯s childhood, a few half-hearted regrets, a few humblebrags.


    Thepany had taken up his time, the weight of a thousand employees on his shoulders, but he¡¯d done his best.


    And now that Mirabelle was married to Ashton, she was in good hands.


    Still, as her father, he¡¯d like to provide something. Anything.


    If only thepany weren¡¯t in such a precarious state...


    He trailed off when all he got back was silence, and a sore throat from talking too long.


    He was still standing; Ashton hadn¡¯t offered him a seat.


    Franklin shifted his weight. Tried again.


    ¡®About that project Mr Maxwell used to handle... I was wondering who¡¯s overseeing it now¡ª¡¯


    Ashton dropped the phone onto the desk with a soft thud.


    Franklin stopped mid-sentence.


    ¡®So all that touching nonsense about Mirabelle, that was just the warm-up. You are not here for her. You¡¯re here to sniff around for contracts.¡¯


    Franklin stiffened. ¡®Of course I¡¯m here for her. She¡¯s my daughter. The project¡¯s... well, a secondary issue.¡¯ He smiled ingratiatingly. ¡®But we¡¯re family now, right? Families help each other. Might as well keep it in the family.¡¯


    Ashton gave a short, humourlessugh.


    ¡®Let¡¯s not waste time. I brought you in here because I didn¡¯t want to humiliate you in front of her downstairs. That doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ve got patience for you. And you¡¯re not family.¡¯


    Franklin¡¯s forehead had gone slick. Sweat clung to his temples, slid down his cheek.


    He stammered. ¡®But... but you married my daughter¡ª¡¯


    ¡®And she¡¯s a legal adult. She doesn¡¯t owe you a thing. Neither do I. If you¡¯ve got some grand y lined up, now¡¯s the time to use it.¡¯


    Franklin faltered.


    Then, fist clenched behind his back, he tried one more time.


    ¡®I know I wasn¡¯t always the best father. But I was working. I was trying to give her a future. That house, her school, the business¡ªit was all for her. And no matter what, she¡¯s still my daughter. Family fights don¡¯tst forever¡ª¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s still the script you¡¯re using?¡¯ Ashton said coldly. ¡®I married Mirabelle, not your entire circus. Keep your nephew Preston and your wife¡¯s niece Serenna away from her. She forgives too easily. I don¡¯t. Try anything, and I¡¯ll make sure every door in Skyline ms shut on your family. You, Preston, Serenna¡ªnone of you willst a week. To me, you¡¯re nothing. The only reason you¡¯re still standing here is because you are her biological father.¡¯


    Contempt shed in Ashton¡¯s eyes as he said thest two words, but Franklin didn¡¯t notice.


    He stood blinking, chest heaving lightly, his fingers locked tight around the hem of his jacket.


    Ashton found the sight revolting.


    A father who couldn¡¯t even recognise his own child, who poured resources into a nephew while his daughter got nothing.


    It disgusted him.


    Franklin opened his mouth, shut it again.


    What was there left to say?


    Ashton¡¯s attitude couldn¡¯t have been clearer.


    He turned to leave.


    ¡®Stop.¡¯


    Franklin halted mid-step.


    ¡®Who said you could go?¡¯


    He turned back, slower this time. ¡®Is there something else?¡¯


    ¡®Mirabelle¡¯s your daughter. You never raised a hand to protect her, never gave her a thing she didn¡¯t have to fight for. That ends now. I don¡¯t care what you piss away on your nephew, but Mirabelle gets her share of the inheritance.¡¯


    Franklin¡¯s lips pulled tight. ¡®I¡¯m not dead yet.¡¯


    ¡®You will be. And I don¡¯t trust your conscience to grow a spine before then.¡¯


    Franklin scoffed, shedding thest traces of performance now that he knew sentiment wouldn¡¯t work. ¡®She¡¯s got you. She doesn¡¯t need anything from me.¡¯


    ¡®Needing and deserving aren¡¯t the same. I¡¯m telling you to draft a new will. Everything you own, everything in your wife¡¯s name, all of it goes to Mirabelle.¡¯


    ¡®I can¡¯t do that.¡¯


    ¡®You can. Do it and keep using the money until you croak. Or refuse, and I¡¯ll bleed you dry long before then. You won¡¯t even need a will.¡¯


    Franklin¡¯s mouth twitched. ¡®I have another daughter. Catherine.¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s lip curled. ¡®Are you certain about that?¡¯


    Franklin frowned, confused.


    ¡®I¡¯m not negotiating. And don¡¯t bother shuffling assets out of the country or handing them off to Preston behind her back. I¡¯ve got eyes on you. They know where to look. Try and remember what happened to Vance Ovend when it got gged for tax evasion.¡¯


    Franklin stared. ¡®That was you?¡¯


    ¡®No. That was the IRS. But someone gave them a little nudge.¡¯


    ¡®I need time.¡¯


    ¡®Take it. Just don¡¯t assume I¡¯ll wait.¡¯


    Franklin left without another word.


    Ashton pulled out his phone.


    ¡®Send the paternity test results. Anonymous delivery. Both Franklin and Caroline Vance.¡¯

 Chapter 142 - 143 Boycott Campaign

    <h4>Chapter 142: Chapter 143 Boycott Campaign</h4>


    I cracked the door open the moment I heard footsteps.


    Kept it barely ajar, just enough to see Franklin bolt down the stairs like his arse was on fire.


    I couldn¡¯t catch his expression. No clue if he¡¯d gotten what he came for or if Ashton had kicked him to the kerb.


    I stepped out.


    Ashton came out of the study at the same time.


    ¡®Did you check your phone?¡¯ I rushed towards him. ¡®You didn¡¯t actually give him that project, did you? Tell me you didn¡¯t agree to work with that dodgy little shippingpany.¡¯


    He kept walking, straight towards the staircase.


    What did that silence mean?


    My stomach clenched.


    I didn¡¯t know the ins and outs of his business deals, but Franklin was slick and shameless.


    ¡®Wait¡ªseriously? You didn¡¯t fall for it, did you? If you trust him, he¡¯s going to screw you over. You really didn¡¯t see my messages?¡¯


    Still nothing. Not a word.


    He headed downstairs.


    I followed, practically breathing down his neck.


    The stairs were narrow, polished, and I was barefoot.


    I stepped on the back of his shoe. Hard.


    The second I lost bnce, my hand flew out.


    I grabbed his arm before I could crash to the floor.


    He caught me like he¡¯d expected it¡ªjust reached back, curled one hand around my waist and pulled me into his chest.


    Then he shifted his grip and hoisted me up with one arm, and started walking down the stairs.


    ¡®You managed to trip over yourself,¡¯ he said, almost amused. ¡®What do you do when I¡¯m not around? Walk into traffic?¡¯


    My stomach had dipped when he lifted me¡ªbrief, weightless, like my body hadn¡¯t caught up to itself.


    Then Inded against his chest, warm and solid, my cheek brushing the cor of his shirt.


    I wrapped my arms around his neck before I could think.


    My ears started burning.


    ¡®Put me down,¡¯ I muttered. ¡®I can walk.¡¯


    His arm stayed locked around my back.


    He nced at me.


    My hair hade loose across my face and I hadn¡¯t fixed it.


    I still hadn¡¯t caught my breath from nearly eating the stairs.


    His eyes lingered.


    I narrowed mine. ¡®What are you staring at?¡¯


    He didn¡¯t answer. Just kept walking, straight through the hallway and into the kitchen. Still holding me.


    He carried me with one arm and poured water with the other.


    When he finally set me down, his grip didn¡¯t ease until both my feet touched the floor.


    ¡®You followed me all the way down here,¡¯ he said, raising his ss. ¡®Thirsty?¡¯


    He took a long drink.


    His throat shifted with the swallow, his Adam¡¯s apple bobbing.


    I took a step back and shoved my fingers through my hair, tugging the mess behind my ears.


    ¡®Don¡¯t try and change the subject,¡¯ I used. ¡®I didn¡¯t follow you to get a ss of water. I asked if you saw the messages I sent you.¡¯


    He smiled again. An enigmatic one.


    What was so funny?


    I turned away. ¡®Forget it. If you want to get in bed with the Vance family, that¡¯s your funeral. It¡¯s yourpany.¡¯


    Behind me, heughed.


    I stopped. Looked back and red at him.


    He reached for me and pulled me towards him again.


    ¡®You¡¯re pissed now?¡¯ he said lightly, handing me a fresh ss. ¡®What if I did decide to work with Franklin Vance? Will you flip a lid? Stomp on my head instead of just my foot?¡¯


    I scoffed and tilted my chin. ¡®Do whatever the hell you want. Not like my opinion¡¯s ever stopped you before.¡¯


    He paused. His mouth curved.


    ¡®Rx. I didn¡¯t. I wouldn¡¯t touch a deal with him.¡¯


    I exhaled.


    The pressure in my chest let up all at once, and then came back twice as fast.


    ¡®Then why the hell didn¡¯t you say that earlier? I thought he¡¯d sold you on one of his shitty fake-pitch decks.¡¯


    ¡®I saw your messages.¡¯


    ¡®You didn¡¯t reply.¡¯


    ¡®I was busy.¡¯


    That smug tone made it worse.


    I red. ¡®You weren¡¯t busy. You just didn¡¯t feel like replying.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t deny it.


    ¡®Was it fun making me type like a maniac? My fingers still ache,¡¯ Iined.


    I downed half the ss. The water was cold, sharp against the roof of my mouth.


    I wanted to throw the rest in his face.


    I didn¡¯t.


    ¡®You don¡¯t need to boil over,¡¯ he said finally, softer now. ¡®I saw everything. I read it all. I listened. I¡¯m not working with him. So what are you mad about?¡¯


    I lowered the ss.


    ¡®I¡¯m not mad. It¡¯s yourpany. Doesn¡¯t matter what I think.¡¯


    ¡®Doesn¡¯t it?¡¯ Ashton dragged me back a half step, his hand mped firm around my wrist. ¡®You¡¯re the boss¡¯s wife. What you say goes. You don¡¯t want me working with the Vances, then I won¡¯t.¡¯


    ¡®H¡¯m.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll have Dominic draft a formal notice tomorrow. LGH and every subsidiary under it will cut ties with Vance Ovend and anything remotely connected to Vance Omnia Group. That work for you?¡¯


    I pped his arm. ¡®Jesus, calm down. That ratty excuse for apany doesn¡¯t need a whole boycott campaign. Just don¡¯t touch it, that¡¯s enough.¡¯


    Then I pointed straight at his chest. ¡®And I¡¯m not the boss¡¯s wife.¡¯


    I spun and bolted up the stairs before he could say anything smug.


    ***


    Next morning, I barely stepped into the studio before Yvaine came skidding through the front door with her scarf still wrapped around her head like a towel.


    ¡®Mira! I found someone! He¡¯sing in today. You can meet him and see what you think.¡¯


    I raised both brows. ¡®That quick? Where¡¯d you find him¡ªhe legit?¡¯


    ¡®Haven¡¯t a clue. I haven¡¯t even met him yet.¡¯ She pulled out her phone, tapping fast. ¡®I posted the listing in a few groups online. He messaged metest night. Says he just got back from uni overseas. Twenty-two, fresh out.¡¯


    She turned the screen to show me.


    I leaned in.


    Most of the messages were just him listing his credentials.


    ¡®You think any of this is real?¡¯ I asked.


    She shrugged. ¡®Could be.¡¯


    ¡®If he¡¯s that qualified, why¡¯s he trying to work here? Foreign uni, finance degree... seems like a waste.¡¯

 Chapter 143 - 144 New Hire

    <h4>Chapter 143: Chapter 144 New Hire</h4>


    ¡®He said he¡¯s into jewellery,¡¯ Yvaine said. ¡®Wants to try something different. Let¡¯s just meet him and see.¡¯


    ¡®Fine.¡¯


    We didn¡¯t have to wait long.


    At half ten, the door opened and a guy walked in.


    White crewneck jumper, loose ck trousers, no tie, no jacket.


    Not sloppy, just not trying too hard either.


    He looked fresh out of uni. Big smile, clean skin, short ck hair, the kind of face casting agents probably fight over.


    Yvaine nudged my elbow and muttered, ¡®Fit. Nice build. He¡¯s wearing head-to-toe designer. Think he¡¯s some bored rich kid?¡¯


    I kept my voice low. ¡®He doesn¡¯t look like someone who knows how to get shit done.¡¯


    We both straightened our backs.


    I motioned Priya over, and the three of us lined up on one side of the little ss table.


    He sat opposite, still grinning.


    ¡®Hi,¡¯ he said brightly. ¡®I¡¯m Daniel Williams, twenty-two, just graduated from Eastwick. Looking for work. Would love the chance to join your team.¡¯


    His voice was smooth, posture decent.


    It was irritating how likeable he was.


    ¡®You studied finance,¡¯ I said bluntly. ¡®We¡¯re a jewellery studio. Doesn¡¯t really line up.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m genuinely interested in jewellery,¡¯ Daniel replied quickly, still grinning. ¡®And you need clients, right? I can help with that. I¡¯m good with numbers. Sales, projections, whatever you need.¡¯


    ¡®We¡¯re not really at the projections stage. I¡¯m looking for someone to handle errands. Packaging, deliveries, cleaning. That sort of thing.¡¯


    He paused for half a second, then pped his right bicep and said, ¡®I¡¯ve got energy to spare. You just point, I¡¯ll do it.¡¯


    Yvaine shot me a look.


    Her mouth didn¡¯t move, but her raised eyebrows said it all.


    I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.


    Degree, muscles, zero ego.


    He was practically gift-wrapped.


    I cleared my throat. ¡®The pay¡¯s shit. You might want to think about it.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t need to. I can start today.¡¯ He let out a long breath. ¡®It¡¯s hard to get hired right now. I need experience. Big firms feel cold and fake. I probably wouldn¡¯t fit in anyway.¡¯


    There was no performance in his voice. Just quiet, straightforward honesty.


    Yvaine nodded.


    I gave a quick one in return.


    Daniel stayed.


    He got to work fast, broom in one hand, box of microfibre cloths in the other, shadowing Priya like they were a cleaning tag team.


    He bounced between floors withoutining once.


    I stood by the shelf of stone samples and watched his back move around the room.


    His frame filled the doorway.


    His trainers squeaked on the tiles.


    Something about him nagged at me.


    I leaned closer to Yvaine. ¡®Don¡¯t you think he looks familiar?¡¯


    She gave him a nce, then shrugged. ¡®Not to me. I¡¯d remember a face like that. But I¡¯ll poke around, see if there¡¯s a rich family in Skyline with the surname Williams. Maybe he¡¯s some heir slumming it.¡¯


    ¡®Go for it.¡¯


    I kept looking, but whoever he reminded me of stayed buried somewhere in the back of my brain.


    I gave up trying to ce it.


    ***


    The studio, which I¡¯d christened Mira Joie, opened quietly on a Tuesday.


    Things started to fall into a rhythm.


    Word got out that I¡¯d opened my own space, and Octavia Grey messaged offering to send over clients.


    I said thank you before she could change her mind.


    At the same time, I was putting together my first draft submission for The Aureate Awards.


    Designs, specs, technical sheets.


    Everything had to be ready and clean before the deadline if I wanted to get shortlisted.


    While I buried myself in CAD files and wax moulds, Yvaine threw herself into her own thing.


    She¡¯d decided her cake shop needed a full revamp.


    She was nning to turn it into one of those glittery influencer spots people queue outside for selfies.


    She hired a design team, met with them constantly, argued over colour palettes and flooring samples.


    The more chaotic it got, the more she seemed to thrive on it.


    Still, she didn¡¯t forget my birthday.


    On the day, sheunched a one-woman delivery war on my studio.


    Bags kepting, handles biting into her arms, heels clicking across the floor.


    ¡®I know you don¡¯t need anything. So by my logic, that means you need everything.¡¯


    She dumped the gifts across the couch, the stools, the console table.


    There were handbags, nes, perfume bottles, skincare sets, jumpers, caps, candles, fucking nail files.


    It looked like a department store had exploded in my workspace.


    ¡®I got all the newest drops. No cake, though. You hate birthdays. So I figured I¡¯d be practical instead.¡¯


    I stood by the door with my arms folded, blinking at the pile like it might start moving.


    ¡®You scare me sometimes,¡¯ I muttered.


    The sheer volume of it threw me off.


    Yvaine had always been generous, but this was something else entirely.


    It looked like she was stocking me for the next fiscal year.


    ¡®This is fucking excessive.¡¯


    She grinned and held up a box of lipstick. ¡®Perks of being my best friend.¡¯


    Then she leaned in, dropped her voice. ¡®My parents heard about the cake shop. They¡¯re thrilled I¡¯m finally doing something. Gave me a stupid amount of spending money. I couldn¡¯t get through it fast enough. Figured I might as well unload some of it on you. Oh¡ªdoes your husband even know it¡¯s your birthday today? Has he done anything?¡¯


    ¡®He has. Didn¡¯t I tell you?¡¯


    ¡®Tell me what? What did I miss?¡¯


    I cleared my throat, suddenly feeling ridiculously embarrassed. ¡®Nyx Collective.¡¯


    ¡®What about it?¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s, um, sort of, um, mine now.¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯ Yvaine¡¯s eyes grew wide. ¡®Yours? What do you mean?¡¯


    ¡®He bought thepany. The shares are under my name.¡¯


    ¡®Huh.¡¯ Yvaine slumped back. She swept a limp arm over the mountain of gift bags. ¡®So I lose.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s not a contest.¡¯


    Yvaine red. ¡®Of course it is. What else did he do? Book the Aman Suite for your birthday party? Buy you the Pink Star diamond?¡¯

 Chapter 144 - 145 Birthday

    <h4>Chapter 144: Chapter 145 Birthday</h4>


    ¡®No and no, though I wouldn¡¯t mind giving my firstborn andst and my soul and all my tomorrows for a glimpse of the Pink Star.¡¯


    I drooled at the thought of touching the 59.60-carat, vivid pink, wless diamond.


    ¡®Any ns tonight? Why do I even ask?¡¯ Yvaine waved off her own question. ¡®Let me guess. Candlelit dinner by the bay, live string quartet in the background. I know, I know. I won¡¯t be the third wheel.¡¯


    I said nothing.


    Actually, no, I didn¡¯t have any ns tonight.


    Ashton hadn¡¯t said anything when I left the house this morning.


    And so far, half the day had passed without a message from him.


    Maybe he thought the share transfer agreement had said ¡®happy birthday¡¯ loud and clear.


    By evening, Priya and Daniel packed up and left.


    Yvaine got a call and dashed off in her ridiculous boots, leaving the studio dead quiet.


    I shut myptop, stacked the loose sketch sheets, reached for the light switch¡ª


    And stopped.


    Through the ss, someone appeared on the pavement outside.


    Alone. Stepping out of a car.


    Long ck coat. Straight shoulders. No umbre.


    Streetlights flicked on behind him as he passed, one by one, as if his presence had triggered them.


    Warm yellow light slid across his shoulders, caught in his hair, followed him like his personal ring light.


    The street behind him buzzed with engines and shouting and crosswalk signals.


    He didn¡¯t look at any of it. His eyes stayed on me through the ss.


    I didn¡¯t move.


    He pushed the door open.


    The bell overhead gave a short, clear chime.


    Cold air followed him in.


    He walked straight to me and wrapped his gloved fingers around mine.


    ¡®Come with me.¡¯


    He tugged, I followed.


    Outside, the traffic was louder, headlights sliding past, people jostling to get through.


    We stopped on the edge of the pavement.


    His hand stayed on mine.


    He leaned down so close I felt his breath. ¡®Look up.¡¯


    I lifted my head.


    Dark sky. No stars. Just cloud cover and the faint hum of the city pressing in from every side.


    I turned to him, confused.


    He counted, ¡®Three. Two. One.¡¯


    The sky split open.


    Not lightning. Not thunder.


    Fireworks.


    Red. Gold. Blue. White.


    A burst, then ten more.


    Then hundreds.


    They came from rooftops, from cranes, from somewhere across the river.


    Some small and sharp, others fat and slow like molten coins melting against the sky.


    Sparks rained down the sides of ss towers, lit up the windows, turned the clouds pink and silver.


    I forgot to breathe.


    There were too many to count.


    The air smelled like sulphur and burnt sugar.


    A low rumble shook the concrete under my boots.


    It didn¡¯t stop.


    I lost track of how long I stood there.


    Minutes. Maybe longer.


    Eventually, thest one flickered out.


    The sky emptied.


    Then the noise came back all at once.


    Shouting, whistling, high-pitched screams¡ªso many voices I couldn¡¯t tell one from the other.


    I blinked. My ears rang.


    People had stopped walking. Everyone was looking up.


    Phones were everywhere, arms stretched high, cameras shing.


    The pavement pulsed with footsteps and voices.


    ¡®These are insane. Who the hell paid for that many at once?¡¯


    ¡®What¡¯s the asion?¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s not just here. My cousin¡¯s across town, said the whole skyline¡¯s lit up.¡¯


    ¡®So bloody massive. I can feel the heat from here.¡¯


    ¡®Must be some rich brat showing off. I¡¯m notining.¡¯


    ¡®Not a holiday. Not even a public event. Someone nned that for a private reason.¡¯


    ¡®Post it to your feed, quick!¡¯


    ¡®What for? Everyone in the city¡¯s already seen it.¡¯


    The sky dimmed, one flicker at a time.


    Blue faded to grey.


    The clouds swallowed the colour.


    The air felt heavier again, like it had been stretched and snapped back too fast.


    I turned to Ashton.


    I couldn¡¯t see properly.


    My vision hadn¡¯t adjusted.


    Everything looked smeared and too bright, like a lens had fogged.


    He looked at me with those eyes. Wide, sharp, too focused.


    They caught thest of the light.


    Or maybe they made their own.


    He said, ¡®They¡¯re for you. Did you like them?¡¯


    My pulse kicked hard.


    I felt it in my throat, in my ribs, behind my eyes.


    It took me a second to get my voice out. ¡®Yeah. I did.¡¯


    His mouth curved.


    ¡®Good.¡¯


    He squeezed my hand again.


    Then he said, quiet but clear, ¡®It¡¯s not over. Look up again.¡¯


    I did.


    The sky had turned ck again, but tiny white lights started blinking above us, slow and irregr.


    They shimmered in and out, then clustered together, moving across the dark in sharp, deliberate strokes.


    The words came one at a time.


    All.


    For.


    You.


    Happy.


    Birthday.


    M.


    The lights stayed for a beat, then scattered, drifting outward like sparks caught in a breeze.


    They shrank, pulling higher and farther until they disappeared past the rooftops.


    Then silence.


    Ashton¡¯s voice reached my ear as if from a dream.


    ¡®I had a whole speech nned. None of it felt right. Too many big words. Too much fluff. I figured simple would do better. So, happy birthday, Mira.¡¯


    I turned towards him.


    Words failed me.


    ¡®I thought about presents. Something tangible. Jewellery, shoes, bags. But they all break, get lost, get thrown out. This¡¯¡ªhe gestured towards the sky¡ª¡®you might remember.¡¯


    He leaned down. His lips brushed the corner of my mouth.


    ¡®May your life be filled with many more such memories, Mira.¡¯


    Then he pulled back.


    My skin burned where his mouth had touched me.


    He took my hand again, gently tugging me towards the studio.


    ¡®You¡¯re freezing. Come inside.¡¯


    The door shut behind us with a soft clunk.


    Heat rolled over me the second we stepped in, thick and dry.


    My fingers twitched as the blood came back.


    He gave a shortugh, half under his breath.


    ¡®By the way, the fireworks were eco-friendly. Full permit too. Don¡¯t worry.¡¯


    He held something up in his other hand.

 Chapter 145 - 146 Memories

    <h4>Chapter 145: Chapter 146 Memories</h4>


    ¡®Happy birthday,¡¯ he said again.


    He ced it on the worktable.


    The cake inside was tiny.


    Four inches, maybe.


    Enough for two.


    The icing was smooth and white, with a single purple flower piped dead centre.


    No glitter, no sprinkles.


    Just that flower, neat, precise, a shade darker than amethyst.


    Primrose, my birth flower.


    I stared at it for a few seconds.


    ¡®Thanks,¡¯ I said quietly, before my voice could crack.


    He lit a candle on top, just one, and grinned at me.


    ¡®Make a wish.¡¯


    The me flickered.


    I closed my eyes.


    Nothing came to mind straight away.


    My brain spun in ten directions before settling.


    I opened my eyes and blew out the candle.


    The smoke curled upward, sharp and faint.


    ¡®Happy birthday,¡¯ Ashton said.


    I repeated it. ¡®Happy birthday to me.¡¯


    The heat in the room had settled into my chest.


    It wasn¡¯t from the heater.


    ¡®Cake?¡¯ he asked.


    Then he swiped a finger through the frosting and smeared it across my cheek.


    ¡®Birthday girl.¡¯


    I blinked. Then grabbed a chunk off the side and smeared it across his jaw.


    He froze. Thenughed.


    I did too.


    After a minute, we sat down and actually ate the thing.


    He cut it with a palette knife from my workbench.


    The sponge was light, the cream dense and cold.


    Vani, maybe, with a bit of lemon.


    Best cake I¡¯d ever had, no contest.


    Ashton started clearing the crumbs.


    I leaned back in my chair and looked past him, through the ss.


    Outside, the wind had picked up.


    Coats pped behind people like sails.


    Everyone rushed somewhere.


    Cars jammed up at the lights, hornsyered over each other, red and white shing across wet asphalt.


    Everything had snapped back to normal.


    The fireworks were gone. Not even smoke left behind.


    I didn¡¯t know how many people would remember them after a week, a month, a year.


    Probably none.


    But I would.


    I¡¯d remember the exact shapes of the lights. The cake. The fingerful of cream on my face.


    I¡¯d remember the one who made it all happen.


    ***


    Three dayster.


    I was supposed to meet Yvaine for lunch. Noon sharp.


    At eleven, she still hadn¡¯t shown, which was weird.


    She usually popped into my studio hours early to steal coffee andin about frosting temperatures.


    I crossed the street to Sugar & Whim.


    The door creaked open.


    Cold air swept past my knees.


    Inside, it was too quiet.


    Then I heard it.


    Soft crying,ing from the back.


    I stepped over a pile of wood panels and torn cardboard, and found her sitting on the floor.


    Her jeans were dust-streaked. Her face blotchy.


    She had both arms wrapped around her knees like a child.


    ¡®What happened?¡¯ I rushed over. ¡®Why are you on the floor? Did the contractors bail again?¡¯


    She wiped under her nose with the back of her hand. Her voice cracked. ¡®I told them toeter.¡¯


    I pulled her up by the elbows and shoved her into the nearest chair. ¡®The floor¡¯s freezing. Tell me what¡¯s going on.¡¯


    She didn¡¯t. She justtched onto my neck and started sobbing against my shoulder, full-body shaking.


    I rubbed circles between her shoulder des.


    ¡®Hey, hey, breathe. Just talk to me. What is it?¡¯


    She finally lifted her head. Her cheeks were soaked. Her voice came out in gasps.


    ¡®I broke up with Cassian.¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯


    ¡®We¡¯re over.¡¯


    I stared at her. ¡®You twosted, what, two weeks? Emmett nearly killed himst time, and you still stuck with it. What happened? Your brother again?¡¯


    ¡®It wasn¡¯t Emmett. I should¡¯ve listened to you. All of you. Cassian¡¯s just a smug, lying piece of shit. The second he thought he had me, he stopped pretending.¡¯


    My stomach dropped.


    I already knew.


    ¡®He cheated?¡¯


    She nodded. Her hands were clenched in herp.


    ¡®Some D-list actress. I caught themst night at his t. He didn¡¯t even try to lie about it, just said she¡¯s the lead in that new show he bankrolled. The one he kept saying he hated. Turns out he¡¯d been throwing money at it the whole time to get her attention.¡¯


    I mmed my palm against the table.


    The crash bounced off the empty walls.


    ¡®Fucking bastard. Why didn¡¯t you tell me yesterday? We could¡¯ve made sure he never got it up again.¡¯


    Yvaine let out a shaky breath and reached for a napkin.


    She dabbed her eyes, calmer now.


    ¡®He said it in front of her. That we were never serious. That it was all just... fun for him. I didn¡¯t want to argue and look pathetic. So I left. I didn¡¯t cry, I just walked out like I didn¡¯t give a damn.¡¯


    She paused, crumpling the napkin between her fingers.


    ¡®I thought I was fine. I told myself I didn¡¯t care. But then I got here, and everything felt too quiet, and it hit me all at once.¡¯


    Her voice cracked at the end. She pressed her mouth shut.


    I crouched next to her chair and pulled her into a hug, squeezing tight.


    ¡®You got out before he could waste any more of your time. That¡¯s not weakness. That¡¯s the smartest thing you¡¯ve ever done.¡¯


    I meant it.


    I didn¡¯t trust Cassian Langford the first time I saw him pretend to care.


    The way he kissed Yvaine¡¯s hand in that hospital room, like he¡¯d just stepped out of a soap opera.


    Now he¡¯d ripped off the mask in under four weeks.


    That had to be some kind of record.


    ¡®So what now?¡¯ I asked.


    Yvaine sat up and wiped her face hard, smearing what was left of her mascara into a grey line under each eye.


    ¡®I needed the cry. That was it. Last fucking tear he¡¯s getting from me.¡¯ She sniffed once, then threw the napkin on the floor. ¡®I¡¯m not gonna curl up and die over aid cucumber. He can rot with his little actress.¡¯


    Then she scowled.


    ¡®I don¡¯t even know why I cried. It¡¯s not like I liked him that much. He was just something to do. A time-filler. That¡¯s all.¡¯


    ¡®You don¡¯t have to lie to me. Or to yourself.¡¯

 Chapter 146 - 147 Client Dinner

    <h4>Chapter 146: Chapter 147 Client Dinner</h4>


    ¡®I¡¯m not lying.¡¯ She shook her head so hard her earrings pped her neck. ¡®We dated for, what, three months? If I act like he was the love of my life, that¡¯s just pathetic. I¡¯m not that girl.¡¯


    She sprang to her feet and scanned the room like she was ready to flip a table.


    ¡®I¡¯m gonna build my brand and make a bloody fortune. Men are distractions. I¡¯m over it. That breakdown was temporary, Mira, I swear, I¡¯m fine now.¡¯


    I exhaled through my nose. ¡®He never deserved you.¡¯


    My palms itched. ¡®You shouldn¡¯t¡¯ve let him walk away like that. You should¡¯ve called me. I would¡¯ve made sure he couldn¡¯t sit for a week. He doesn¡¯t get to treat you like that.¡¯


    Yvaine waved me off. ¡®It¡¯s done. I¡¯m not wasting another second on him. If I throw a fit, it just proves I gave a damn. And I didn¡¯t. Not really. Guys like him always fake the charm until they think they¡¯ve won. Then it¡¯s just ego and dick jokes.¡¯


    I folded my arms. ¡®Does Emmett know? He should¡¯ve broken his fucking jaw.¡¯


    ¡®He knows.¡¯ Yvaine made a face. ¡®He wasn¡¯t even mad. He just looked smug. Like he¡¯d been waiting for this.¡¯


    No surprise there.


    Emmett disapproved of Cassian from day one, even though they were friends.


    Yvaine pped her cheeks twice and stood. ¡®Come on. Let¡¯s get food. The contractors areing this afternoon to finish up. Once the shop opens, I won¡¯t have time to think about that useless man again. I¡¯m over it. Really.¡¯


    I nodded, but I didn¡¯t believe her.


    I started popping into Sugar & Whim more often.


    Kept an eye on her without making it obvious.


    No signs of copse.


    She scrubbed the counters, ordered bulk flour, bossed the contractors around.


    She stopped mentioning Cassian entirely.


    Just talked business. Equipment. Packaging. Rent.


    When the gold foil signage went up, I finally stopped checking up on her every five minutes.


    ***


    That afternoon, Ashton rang.


    ¡®Dinner tonight,¡¯ he said. ¡®I want you to meet a client.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah, alright.¡¯


    Octavia Grey had sent me a steady stream of C-list actors and thirsty influencers, all sniffing around for custom pieces.


    I¡¯d done mock-ups for three of them, but none had pulled the trigger. No contracts yet.


    My calendar was so empty it was starting to insult me.


    I met Ashton at The Rookery, a private club tucked behind a nd grey fa?ade on West 48th.


    When I got there, he was leaning against the stone column by the entrance, buttoned up in a charcoal coat with the cor turned up.


    ¡®I just got here,¡¯ he said, his breath showing in the air. ¡®You¡¯ll freeze out here. Let¡¯s go in.¡¯


    I adjusted my bag on my shoulder. ¡®What¡¯s this client like?¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t really know,¡¯ Ashton said. ¡®Cassian sent them my way. Said it¡¯s a friend of his.¡¯


    ¡®What kind of friend?¡¯


    He kept walking.


    I didn¡¯t.


    I should¡¯ve stayed home.


    If I¡¯d known this was one of Cassian¡¯s people, I wouldn¡¯t have touched it with a ten-foot pole.


    I didn¡¯t care if my studio never turned a profit again; Cassian Langford could keep his damn referrals.


    Ashton didn¡¯t notice the shift. He pushed open the club door.


    ¡®Apparently, she¡¯s some actress. Just did a drama that blew up. Her name¡¯s all over right now.¡¯


    ¡®An actress?¡¯


    Ashton nced back. ¡®What¡¯s wrong?¡¯


    ¡®Nothing. Let¡¯s just get this over with.¡¯


    He stepped aside and held the door open.


    I walked in, shoulders squared.


    Cassian Langford was sitting on a velvet sofa. His legs were stretched out, one arm resting along the backrest, looking right at home.


    Next to him sat a girl with a high ponytail and a pale green jumper.


    Her face was small, round, softly lit by the chandelier overhead.


    She looked fresh-scrubbed and polished, like she¡¯d just stepped off a morning show set.


    I recognised her. Barely.


    That was the rising star Yvaine had warned me about.


    Harper Foster.


    She¡¯d had a breakthrough ying the scheming younger sister in some Regency drama.


    She looked less filtered in person.


    Narrower jaw, sharper eyes.


    Still recognisable, if you squinted.


    I stared at her. ¡®You¡¯re Harper Foster, right?¡¯


    She stood, her meet-the-fans smile ready. ¡®Yes. That¡¯s me.¡¯


    I ignored her outstretched hand.


    Just pulled out my phone and started typing.


    She nced at Cassian like a puppy waiting for amand.


    ¡®Don¡¯t just stand there,¡¯ he said casually. ¡®I already ordered. Check the menu, see if there¡¯s anything else you want.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t respond. My thumbs moved across the screen, scrolling fast.


    When I looked up, I aimed the phone screen straight at her. ¡®I¡¯m pulling up your photos. You lookpletely different in real life. Honestly? Bit rough.¡¯


    I tilted the phone so she and Cassian both got a nice, clear look.


    Harper¡¯s face froze. Her lips parted, then shut again. She didn¡¯t speak.


    She clutched her jumper sleeves and peeked up at Cassian like she expected him to rescue her.


    He hesitated, jaw tightening.


    His voice was both confused and offended. ¡®What¡¯s your problem? You¡¯ve just met her and you¡¯re already being hostile. I brought her here because I thought you could design something for her. She¡¯s got a huge following right now. Working with her helps you, not the other way round.¡¯


    Ashton gave him a hard look that should¡¯ve seared a hole through his smug suit.


    Then Ashton leaned towards me and muttered, ¡®Do you know her? Is there history I¡¯m missing? Maybe we go in and talk it through¡ª¡¯


    I didn¡¯t budge. ¡®I¡¯m not going in. This dinner¡¯s not happening.¡¯

 Chapter 147 - 148 Rub It In

    <h4>Chapter 147: Chapter 148 Rub It In</h4>


    Harper¡¯s face immediately flushed red.


    ¡®Did I do something wrong? I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve met before, but if I¡¯ve upset you in any way, I¡¯m happy to apologise.¡¯


    Cassian touched her shoulder.


    ¡®Don¡¯t cry, let me figure out what¡¯s going on,¡¯ he said, then turned to me. ¡®I¡¯m honestly trying to introduce you to a client. What¡¯s going on? Why are we getting into this before we even eat?¡¯


    I¡¯d aimed my snark at Harper to stand up for Yvaine, but Cassian? He was the one who really made me sick.


    I stared him down. ¡®Drop the act. You think I don¡¯t know what you two are up to?¡¯


    Cassian, being an old friend of Ashton¡¯s and a few years older than me, had always gotten my respect in the past.


    But not today.


    ¡®I¡¯ve known Yvaine forever, you know we¡¯re close. Yet here you are, bringing this woman here. What¡¯s your y, Cassian? You trying to rub it in Yvaine¡¯s face? Or maybe you want me to sit here with Harper and stir up some drama between me and Yvaine?¡¯


    The room went deathly quiet.


    The look on Cassian¡¯s face shifted from confusion to something like guilt.


    He didn¡¯t say anything for a long moment.


    Finally, he let out a breath and tried to exin. ¡®I didn¡¯t mean anything like that. It¡¯s just¡ªHarper mentioned wanting a custom piece of jewellery, so I thought of you. I really just wanted to set you up with a potential client.¡¯


    He nced awkwardly at Ashton. ¡®I swear, there¡¯s nothing more to it than that.¡¯


    Ashton shot Cassian a sharp look. ¡®This is really low, Cassian. Did you bring her here just to screw with me?¡¯


    Cassian sighed. ¡®Look, this whole thing is a misunderstanding. I swear, business is business, no hard feelings. Let¡¯s just talk about the jewellery.¡¯


    ¡®Talk about what?¡¯ I scoffed. ¡®I don¡¯t talk business with assholes. Do you think I¡¯m going to sit down and have a meal with you?¡¯


    I turned to Harper. ¡®And you. You do know Cassian has a girlfriend, right? Yet here you are, willing to y the side piece. I¡¯d rather grind my diamonds into dust and snort them than design a single piece of you.¡¯


    I spun towards the door. ¡®I¡¯m done.¡¯


    If it weren¡¯t for Ashton¡¯s presence, I¡¯d have said something far snarkier.


    He fell into step beside me.


    Cassian came rushing after us.


    ¡®Ashton, hold on! Please, let me exin! This is all a misunderstanding!¡¯


    He caught up with Ashton, grabbing his arm. ¡®I¡¯m serious, I didn¡¯t mean for this to go down like this. Don¡¯t let this one little thing ruin our friendship.¡¯


    Ashton yanked his arm away, his tone as cold as ice. ¡®You betrayed Yvaine, and then you bring that woman here? In front of my wife? What the hell were you thinking?¡¯


    Cassian quickly held up his hands. ¡®Look, I didn¡¯t mean for all this to happen. I just wanted to arrange a jewellery order. Simple as that. Yvaine and I broke up weeks ago¡ª¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s not even been a week!¡¯ I cut in.


    Ashton flung out an arm to stop Cassian. ¡®I don¡¯t care about your mess with Yvaine. But you¡¯ve made Mirabelle angry. That¡¯s on you.¡¯


    Cassian frowned. ¡®Come on, Ash. We¡¯ve been friends for years. You¡¯re not going to let her get between us, are you?¡¯


    I pretended not to care, but my ears pricked up.


    ¡®You think I¡¯m going to pick your side after this? Mirabelle is my wife. If she¡¯s upset, I don¡¯t care who you are, you¡¯re going to pay for it.¡¯


    I could hear Cassian¡¯s frustrated sigh.


    Ashton reached me in seconds.


    ¡®Slow down, Mira,¡¯ he said softly. ¡®Don¡¯t be mad.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not mad, I¡¯m pissed!¡¯ I yanked my arm out of his grasp. ¡®Did you know about this?¡¯


    ¡®I knew he was bringing an actress, but that¡¯s all I knew,¡¯ Ashton said, his tone almost pleading. ¡®I didn¡¯t know anything about his rtionship with the woman. If I had, I wouldn¡¯t have brought you here. I swear.¡¯


    I stared at him for a few seconds, trying to lie-detect his expression.


    After a moment, I relented.


    I wanted to believe him.


    Ashton wasn¡¯t an idiot like Cassian; he wouldn¡¯t pull a stunt like that.


    But my anger didn¡¯t fade.


    I knew I shouldn¡¯t take it out on him, but if he hadn¡¯t brought me here, none of this would¡¯ve happened.


    ¡®Forget it,¡¯ I muttered. ¡®It¡¯s not like I can avoid him forever. But when I see him, don¡¯t expect me to be polite. If you¡¯re ufortable with that, just do what you can to keep us apart.¡¯


    Ashton didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡®I¡¯m not ufortable. If it¡¯s about business, there¡¯s no avoiding him. But if it makes you unhappy, I won¡¯t see him outside of work again.¡¯


    I paused. ¡®I¡¯m not trying to control your friendships.¡¯


    It wasn¡¯t my ce.


    But then Ashton said, ¡®You can. I¡¯ve got no problem with that. I¡¯ll always back you up, and I¡¯m with you on this whole thing with Yvaine. I don¡¯t like it either.¡¯


    ¡®Really?¡¯ I asked, surprised.


    ¡®Really.¡¯


    I climbed down from my moral high horse. ¡®The thing is, Cassian¡¯s the one I¡¯m really mad at. He¡¯s the one who¡¯s out of line.¡¯


    ¡®Exactly,¡¯ Ashton agreed, pulling me towards his car. ¡®You¡¯re still upset. You¡¯re not driving. Come with me. I¡¯ll take you home.¡¯


    ¡®What about my car?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll get someone to bring it home.¡¯


    I ended up in the passenger seat before I could stop myself.

 Chapter 148 - 149 Ashton’s POV: The Exception

    <h4>Chapter 148: Chapter 149 Ashton¡¯s POV: The Exception</h4>


    Ashton nced at Mirabelle, sensing the weight of her mood.


    He didn¡¯t dare push her further.


    Instead, his thoughts swirled with curses aimed at Cassian Langford.


    Since Mirabelle¡¯s birthday a few days ago, Ashton had been able to feel the shift in her behaviour.


    She¡¯d been warmer, more open.


    He could almost swear there was a flicker of something deeper in her eyes when she looked at him.


    Not love, but definitely more than mere friendliness.


    But Cassian had ruined it all.


    The progress he¡¯d made in drawing her closer had been demolished in one move by that idiot.


    Ashton knew, if it came down to a choice between him and Yvaine Carlisle, Mirabelle wouldn¡¯t even hesitate.


    She¡¯d choose Yvaine in a heartbeat.


    When he¡¯d chased her out of the club earlier, his chest had tightened with panic.


    He¡¯d been terrified that Mirabelle would start ming him for Cassian¡¯s behaviour.


    Thankfully, it hadn¡¯t gone that far, but it didn¡¯t feel great either.


    As he seethed silently, his phone buzzed.


    Mirabelle nced over and saw the caller ID, immediately turning her head away.


    Ashton¡¯s eye twitched, and he quickly rejected the call, silencing his phone before it could ring again.


    Less than a minuteter, a message from Cassian popped up.


    [How was I supposed to know that Yvaine tells your wife everything? I thought no one knew I was seeing Harper.]


    Ashton swore silently.


    Cassian: [I¡¯m just trying to help your wife, alright? We talked the other day about her opening the studio, and I thought I could offer some support.]


    Ashton didn¡¯t bother responding.


    The messages kepting, so he blocked Cassian¡¯s number.


    Back at the house, Mirabelle waved off Carmen¡¯s offer of dinner with a quiet ¡®I¡¯m tired.¡¯


    She turned to head upstairs.


    ¡®Mirabelle,¡¯ Ashton said, stopping her with just his voice.


    She paused halfway up the staircase.


    ¡®I¡¯m not like Cassian,¡¯ he said.


    ¡®I know,¡¯ she replied at once.


    He nodded slowly. ¡®But your eyes say different.¡¯


    That got her.


    She hesitated, fingers curling slightly against the bannister, then dropped her gaze.


    ¡®I¡¯m not like him,¡¯ Ashton said again. ¡®Don¡¯t lump us together.¡¯


    ¡®I know. I believe you. It¡¯s just...¡¯


    ¡®Just what?¡¯ he pressed, stepping closer.


    She exhaled through her nose. ¡®You two have been friends for a long time.¡¯


    ¡®Doesn¡¯t mean I share his views on rtionships.¡¯


    Mirabelle tilted her head, trying to put something into words she clearly didn¡¯t want to say aloud. ¡®It¡¯s not just you. Or just Cassian. It¡¯s the way guys like you...¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s brow lifted. ¡®Guys like us?¡¯


    ¡®Rich. Young. Good-looking. The kind of men who have everything¡ªand know it. The ones who can snap their fingers and have women throw themselves at their feet.¡¯


    ¡®They can throw themselves all they like,¡¯ Ashton said, his tone clipped. ¡®I¡¯m not catching.¡¯


    Mirabelle gave the smallest smile. It didn¡¯t reach her eyes. ¡®I¡¯m not casting usations. I just...¡¯


    She paused. Looked away.


    Ashton watched her, waited.


    ¡®You know why I liked Rhys so much?¡¯ she said finally. ¡®Even when everyone kept telling me he was wrong for me?¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s chest tightened at the name.


    ¡®Why?¡¯


    ¡®Because Rhys doesn¡¯t y around.¡¯ She let out a breath that was partugh, part sigh. ¡®I know how stupid that sounds. He cheated on me with Catherine. But that¡¯s the thing¡ªhe only wanted her. His heart was always with her. Never me. That¡¯s what proves my point.¡¯


    Ashton didn¡¯t see the point, but he kept quiet.


    ¡®Rhys was self-centred, pampered, emotionally stunted... Pick a w, he had it. But not that one. He never chased women just to prove he could. If he loved Catherine, that was it. It was always going to be her. Even when he did me wrong, he wasn¡¯t... scattered. Cassian is. Men like him always are. He¡¯s already unting his new girl like Yvaine¡¯s yesterday¡¯s news. He didn¡¯t even think it was going to be awkward for me to know. He doesn¡¯t feel guilty because... well, why should he? It¡¯s just the way it is. It¡¯s the way everybody acts.¡¯


    ¡®So Rhys was the exception,¡¯ Ashton said, trying not to let the bitterness show in his voice.


    She nodded slowly. ¡®Yeah. Cassian¡ªhe¡¯s the rule. To men like him, women are like fast cars, new yachts, just something shiny and interesting to have. But only for a while. Then it gets old, and it¡¯s time to move on. Yvaine says she¡¯s over it, but I know she isn¡¯t. Because the same thing happened to me.¡¯


    ¡®Does that mean you¡¯re still not over it? Over Rhys?¡¯ Ashton wanted to ask.


    But he never asked a question if he wasn¡¯t ready to hear the answer.


    She¡¯d given him one when she was drunk in the car that day.


    But what if it changed now that she was sober?


    And he couldn¡¯t promise her he¡¯d never be like Cassian.


    Not convincingly.


    Words were cheap.


    So instead, he stepped aside and let her pass.


    She went into her room and closed the door behind her.


    Ashton stood there for a long while, heart heavy, gaze fixed on the space she¡¯d just left behind.


    Then, as if shaking himself from a trance, he pulled out his phone.


    He unblocked Cassian¡¯s number.


    [Keep your woman in check. If you make Mirabelle upset again, we¡¯re done. I don¡¯t care how long we¡¯ve been friends¡ªI won¡¯t let you screw this up for me.]

 Chapter 149 - 150 Staged Video

    <h4>Chapter 149: Chapter 150 Staged Video</h4>


    I thought the episode was over.


    I was wrong.


    ¡®Mirabelle, there¡¯s... a big client down here!¡¯ Priya called up to me from the first floor.


    I made my way down quickly, but when I saw Harper, the smile I¡¯d been trying to keep on my face disappeared in an instant.


    I slowed my steps, forced myself to look at her without rolling my eyes. ¡®What do you want?¡¯


    ¡®Mirabelle, listen...¡¯ Harper gave me this ridiculously familiar smile and stood up, as though we were best friends. ¡®There¡¯s been a misunderstanding. I came to exin everything to you.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t try to be friendly with me. We¡¯re not on first-name basis.¡¯


    Harper¡¯s eyes welled up a little, and her voice softened. ¡®I didn¡¯t know Cassian had a girlfriend when we were together. If I had known...¡¯


    I wasn¡¯t buying it for a second.


    ¡®If you¡¯d known, you still would have been with him. You¡¯re not in love with him. You¡¯re in love with the resources he gave you. You don¡¯t care about his rtionship status or whether you were the other woman.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s not true!¡¯ Her voice rose. ¡®If I had known about Yvaine, I wouldn¡¯t have agreed to date him. But... but now I¡¯m in love with him. And he¡¯s broken up with Yvaine. So... so it¡¯s just bad timing.¡¯


    ¡®Save it for someone who cares. You know, Yvaine¡¯s my friend. You should¡¯ve stayed the hell away. Yet here you are, trying to act all innocent and y the ¡°true love trumps all¡± card. You really think I don¡¯t see through it?¡¯


    ¡®I...¡¯ Harper bit her lip again. ¡®I just wanted to make it clear that I¡¯m not some homewrecker.¡¯


    ¡®Tell it to Yvaine. Actually, don¡¯t. She doesn¡¯t want to hear it, and neither do I. No one cares. So you can shove it.¡¯


    Harper¡¯s face flushed as if I¡¯d pped her. ¡®I¡¯m not going to bother her,¡¯ she sniffled. ¡®I came here because Cassian asked me to, and also... I thought maybe we could talk about custom jewellery.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯ve got to be kidding. I already told you¡ªno. Priya, show her out.¡¯


    I turned on my heel, walking up the stairs without sparing her another nce.


    Behind me, I could hear Priya trying¡ªhalf-heartedly¡ªto get Harper to leave, but I didn¡¯t care enough to listen.


    Once I was in my studio, I pulled out my phone and fired off a message to Ashton.


    [Tell your good mate to keep Harper the hell away from me!]


    I tossed my phone onto the desk, but the silence was unbearable.


    I picked it back up and started scrolling through videos to kill time.


    Then I saw it.


    ¡®Rising star Harper Foster¡¯s custom jewellery request rejected!¡¯


    The post went on to talk about how the designer was apparently acting like a diva, iming she wouldn¡¯t work with anyone who wasn¡¯t an A-list celebrity.


    There was a video attached, clearly a paparazzi shot, of Harper leaving my studio.


    She wore a mask, her eyes red as if she¡¯d been crying, looking like the world was out to get her.


    The video was getting more views by the second.


    I¡¯d barely finished watching it, and the likes were already up to a thousand.


    I was still watching when Daniel came rushing over, his usual calm reced by something more urgent.


    ¡®Is this about us?¡¯


    He nodded towards my phone screen, where the video was on pause.


    ¡®Apparently.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s messed up,¡¯ he muttered. ¡®That woman came here looking for trouble. What¡¯s the issue with us not working with her? It¡¯s not like we must ept every client who walks through the door.¡¯


    Priya dashed up the stairs, winded from the run. ¡®Harper left less than thirty minutes ago. How did the news spread this fast?¡¯


    ¡®She staged the whole thing,¡¯ I muttered under my breath, my eyes scanning thements, mostly negative. ¡®She¡¯s twisting everything. Even if the paparazzi filmed her, they couldn¡¯t have known what we talked about. She must¡¯ve talked to them. Now, she¡¯s making it sound like I t-out rejected her because she isn¡¯t famous enough.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t get why she¡¯d be doing this.


    Was it revenge for what happened yesterday at the club?


    I frowned as I scrolled through thements.


    Most of the posts were from Harper¡¯s fan base, ripping into me.


    [HF¡¯s at the peak of her career. What kind of designer refuses to work with her?]


    [It¡¯s that @MVanceJewels from before, right? I think her name¡¯s M something Vance. Used to be with Nyx Collective. Guess she¡¯s gone solo now.]


    [Oh, so now she thinks she¡¯s too good for a rising star? How cute.]


    [I said it before, her designs aren¡¯t that great. Turns out her personality isn¡¯t either.]


    [Harper¡¯s on fire right now and some random designer is throwing shade? What a joke.]


    [@MVanceJewels must think she¡¯s the next big thing. Newssh: nobody knows who she is.]


    [Avoid this designer! Big red g!]


    I scrolled down, feeling the heat in my chest as they dug deeper into me¡ªmy real name, my background, even some old schoolments I¡¯d posted ages ago.


    They were digging into everything.


    Thements had turned from random insults to something personal.


    The tone was getting nastier by the second.


    Priya was shaking. ¡®This is so wrong. I thought she was a nice woman. I even made her coffee!¡¯


    ¡®This is ridiculous,¡¯ Daniel muttered, tapping away at his phone. ¡®I¡¯m reporting this. It¡¯spletely fabricated. She¡¯s barely even been famous for five minutes. How does she already have this many unhinged fans?¡¯


    They both kept furiously reporting the video, and within minutes, it was taken down.


    Not just the video; whatever ount posted it was deleted, too


    ¡®We did it?¡¯ Priya and Daniel looked at each other. ¡®We did it!¡¯


    They high-fived each other.


    My phone buzzed.

 Chapter 150 - 151 Brawl

    <h4>Chapter 150: Chapter 151 Brawl</h4>


    ¡®I¡¯ve had them take the video down,¡¯ Ashton said, his voice calm but tense. ¡®But there are still a lot of reposts out there, and it might be trickier to clean up. What exactly happened? Did Harper Fostere to the studio?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah,¡¯ I said. ¡®She wanted a custom piece. I told her to leave. Next thing I know, she¡¯s all over the news.¡¯


    ¡®She did that on purpose.¡¯


    ¡®No kidding. She¡¯s probably getting back at me for yesterday.¡¯


    ¡®I told Cassian not to let her anywhere near you. And now she¡¯s pulling this behind his back.¡¯


    ¡®She said Cassian sent her to me,¡¯ I bit out. ¡®So, who knows.¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s tone grew even deeper. ¡®I¡¯ll go talk to Cassian.¡¯


    He hung up.


    I refreshed my feed, but the video was gone, nothing left but a few scattered reposts, quietly disappearing one by one.


    ¡®The media¡¯s got some sense,¡¯ Daniel remarked, scrolling through his phone. ¡®They know it¡¯s a load of crap, so they¡¯re cleaning it up.¡¯


    Priya nodded. ¡®Yeah, lucky it didn¡¯t blow up more. The power of the ¡°report¡± button, eh?¡¯


    I snorted, flicking my phone off. ¡®It¡¯s the power of money.¡¯


    ¡®What do you mean?¡¯ Daniel asked.


    They both looked like they thought they were the ones responsible for getting the video taken down.


    I didn¡¯t have the heart to burst their bubble, so I just shrugged. ¡®You two were awesome.¡¯


    I muttered a quiet thanks to Ashton in my head.


    Without him stepping in when he did, the whole thing would¡¯ve spiralled, and the studio would¡¯ve taken a hit to its reputation.


    It wasn¡¯t a huge deal in the grand scheme of things, but I knew I¡¯d be pining for custom orders for a while.


    That thought was barely out of my head when my phone buzzed again.


    Cassian was practically falling over himself apologising. ¡®I swear, I had no idea about any of this. It¡¯s got nothing to do with me.¡¯


    I wasn¡¯t in the mood for niceties. ¡®Harper said you sent her to me. So, who¡¯s lying¡ªher or you?¡¯


    There was a brief silence before he spoke again, a little hesitant. ¡®Look, I¡¯ll deal with Harper, don¡¯t worry about that. But about Ashton, could you put in a good word for me? He¡¯s pretty pissed off.¡¯


    ¡®He has a right to be. As do I.¡¯


    ¡®So... is that a yes or no?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll think about it.¡¯


    I ended the call.


    ***


    Two dayster, I¡¯d been half-listening to Daniel ramble on when he suddenly shoved his phone in front of my face.


    ¡®You¡¯ve got to see this. Harper Foster¡¯s starting shit again.¡¯


    I turned away from my workstation and squinted at the screen.


    Hertest post said ¡®tastes disgusting¡¯, tagged right at the location of Yvaine¡¯s shop.


    ¡®What the hell?¡¯


    Yvaine had been pulling fourteen-hour days for weeks just to get Sugar & Whim on the radar.


    Business was finally picking up.


    Influencers were lining up for those stupid pink carousel cakes.


    And now this.


    ¡®She¡¯s doing it on purpose,¡¯ I muttered.


    Daniel leaned towards the window. ¡®Wait, is that her? Corner table by the window. She hasn¡¯t left yet.¡¯


    I was already moving.


    I shoved open the studio door, crossed the street, and yanked out my phone.


    One nce at the screen made my blood pressure spike.


    Hundreds ofments had already piled up under Harper¡¯s post.


    [I saw this ce all over TikTok. Thought it was hyped.]


    [Bet they paid for promo.]


    [Every cake shop that goes viral turns out trash.]


    [Harper must¡¯ve been duped by the algorithm too.]


    Then she replied: [Was curious. Came. Regret it. It¡¯s crap. And stupid expensive. Avoid this ce.] #Sugar&Whim #OverratedMuch


    I came toote.


    Yvaine and Harper were already full-on going at it.


    Yvaine had Harper by the hair.


    Harper had both hands in Yvaine¡¯s curls.


    They were shouting over each other, wobbling back and forth like two drunk aunties at a wedding.


    Yvaine was breathing hard, flushed red down her neck.


    I shoved through the gawking crowd and grabbed Harper¡¯s wrist, yanking it down hard enough that she let go of Yvaine¡¯s scalp.


    ¡®You tried to screw me over. Now you show up here? Didn¡¯t Cassian tell you to back the hell off?¡¯


    She swung her arm at me.


    I blocked it and pped her.


    Loud, sharp, full palm across the cheek.


    Her head snapped sideways and she stumbled back, but didn¡¯t fall, mostly because Yvaine still had a handful of her stupid expensive blowout.


    Harper¡¯s eyes filled fast.


    She made this pathetic choking sound, then burst into wet, snotty tears.


    ¡®You¡¯re ganging up on me! Both of you!¡¯


    ¡®You deserve it!¡¯


    She swung blindly.


    Her elbow dug into my ribs.


    I shoved her off and pped her shoulder. Harder this time.


    She screamed. ¡®Help! They¡¯re trying to kill me!¡¯


    ¡®Sit the fuck down.¡¯ I shoved her into a chair.


    Shended hard, legs bent awkwardly, hair a mess, eyes swollen.


    People were filming. Phones everywhere.


    Harper Foster was famous enough that this would hit social media in under two minutes.


    My heart was still hammering, but the red haze was starting to lift.


    I raised my voice.


    ¡®This woman came here to start trouble. She¡¯s been smearing the bakery online, targeting the owner deliberately. This was nned. Revenge, not a review. You¡¯re all witnesses.¡¯


    I took out my phone and held it up for emphasis.


    ¡®Today¡¯s bill is on me. Everyone here eats free. I just ask that none of you post those videos, please.¡¯


    Then I nced at the nearest staff member¡ªstart clearing the shop.


    But they were frozen in ce, panic all over their faces.


    It took Daniel, thankfully, to finally get them moving.


    Once the ce cleared out, it was just Harper and us.


    Harper was shaking, her eyes darting around like she was looking for an escape.


    ¡®Wh-what are you going to do?¡¯

 Chapter 151 - 152 Getting Roasted Online

    <h4>Chapter 151: Chapter 152 Getting Roasted Online</h4>


    I leaned in, closing the gap between us.


    ¡®You were so brave before, running your mouth. Where¡¯s that confidence gone now?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll call the cops!¡¯ Harper whimpered.


    ¡®Go right ahead. You started this mess, not me. You call the cops, and they¡¯ll take you in. Harassment, provocation of violence, assault.¡¯ I sniffed. ¡®And public intoxication. Jesus, who drinks at ten o¡¯clock in the morning?¡¯


    Harper was reaching for her phone, but she froze halfway.


    I leaned in closer, almost nose-to-nose with her. ¡®Delete your posts. Instagram, X, everything. Now.¡¯


    Her fingers twitched, and her lip trembled. ¡®I... I won¡¯t delete them.¡¯


    ¡®You will. Or I¡¯ll be the one calling the cops. You realise you¡¯ve just handed Yvaine enough to sue the shit out of you, right? That stunt you pulled online¡ªclear case of defamation and malicious falsehood.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah!¡¯ Yvaine backed me up. ¡®Malicious!¡¯


    I¡¯d picked up a thing or two fromwyer Hannah and put them to good use now. ¡®She can file for damages¡ªloss of business, all this smashed-up furniture, reputational harm. And don¡¯t think a judge won¡¯t grant an injunction and force a retraction. You¡¯ll be lucky if you get away with a written apology. Public one, of course. Pinned to all your socials. You want your little fanbase of teenage skincare junkies to see you beg for forgiveness in front of a bakery disy case?¡¯


    Harper squirmed. ¡®I¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Because that¡¯s where this is going if you push it. Civil suit. Discovery. Cross-examination. Then your face goes from influencers¡¯ moodboards to cautionary tale onw school blogs. So go ahead. Keep crying. But if you open your mouth again, make sure it¡¯s to say you¡¯re sorry.¡¯


    Harper bit her lip. ¡®I¡¯ll call Cassian.¡¯


    ¡®Do it. If he¡¯s still taking your side after all this crap you¡¯ve pulled, he¡¯s even dumber than I thought.¡¯


    The fight drained out of her. ¡®Fine, I¡¯ll delete them...¡¯


    Her fingers flew over the screen of her phone, and within seconds, both the Instagram and X posts were gone.


    ¡®Can I go now?¡¯ she mumbled, staring at the floor.


    I nced at her battered face, then at Yvaine, who looked rtively unscathed.


    Yvaine nodded.


    I raised my chin towards the door. ¡®Get out.¡¯


    Harper scrambled, almost tripping over herself as she rushed out.


    The second she disappeared, Daniel¡¯s voice rang through the shop.


    ¡®Someone just uploaded the video!¡¯


    He waved his phone around, showing the rest of us the footage.


    It was a clear shot of the mess.


    With two of us against one of her, she looked like the victim instead of the instigator.


    I sighed, already knowing what wasing.


    There was no way someone wasn¡¯t going to share the video.


    Harper being beaten was way more interesting than Harper getting rejected for custom jewellery.


    The inte loves a good fight.


    I looked at Yvaine. ¡®Well, looks like we¡¯re both getting roasted online.¡¯


    She gave a shrug. ¡®Worth it. And she started it.¡¯


    She tossed her phone onto the counter, then grabbed the attention of the staff. ¡®Everyone, go home for the day. There are a bunch of fresh cakes left in the back and the disy. Help yourselves, then enjoy the rest of the day off.¡¯


    In a few minutes, the ¡®Closed¡¯ sign was up, and the staff scattered, leaving just Yvaine and me in the shop.


    Yvaine brought a few leftover cakes out from the kitchen.


    She plopped down across from me. ¡®I¡¯m starving. Beating up someone really takes it out of you.¡¯


    ¡®Do you need something for your face?¡¯ I asked. ¡®It looks a bit swollen.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m fine.¡¯


    ¡®What the hell happened?¡¯


    Yvaine lifted a shoulder. ¡®She walked in, ordered something. I was in the kitchen. Must¡¯ve posted it while she waited, then started demanding to see the manager. I came out. Sheunched straight into it. Said I was still obsessed with Cassian, used me of sabotaging their rtionship. imed I pulled strings, now he¡¯s ignoring her calls and kicked her out of his t. Apparently, that¡¯s all on me.¡¯


    ¡®Jesus.¡¯


    ¡®I told her to shut it and get out. She tried to trip me. I kicked her. Then you walked in.¡¯


    Her phone buzzed.


    She picked it up.


    ¡®Harper¡¯s fans are going wild in thements.¡¯


    I pulled my own phone out. ¡®The woman knows how to stir up a mob.¡¯


    At first, thements were feral¡ªdeath threats, slut-shaming, people calling me a thug and Yvaine a washed-up sugar witch.


    Every insult you could think of got thrown our way.


    Then someone uploaded a longer video, the one where Harper pped first and started yelling about Cassian.


    That changed the tone fast.


    Yvaine¡¯s regrs flooded thements next, posting photos of ¨¦irs and mousse tarts, raving about the cakes, tagging their friends.


    The replies turned into a dessert feed.


    Half of them forgot why they were angry.


    By mid-afternoon, the original video had vanished, and so had most of the outrage.


    People were losing interest.


    I shot a text to Ashton. [Did you have anything to do with this?]


    He replied: [I didn¡¯t even get a chance to step in. Someone¡¯s already handled the heat.]


    I raised an eyebrow, ncing up at Yvaine. ¡®What about your brother? Emmett, did he help out?¡¯


    ¡®Nope,¡¯ Yvaine said, shaking her head. ¡®I asked him. He¡¯s been in a meeting all day and hasn¡¯t even seen the news yet.¡¯


    Both of us were puzzled.


    If Ashton hadn¡¯t done it and Emmett was out of the loop, who the hell had managed to shut it down so quickly?


    It didn¡¯t stop there.


    Someone had started digging into Harper¡¯s past, unearthing old scandals¡ªstories of her causing trouble in school and always ying the victim.


    A shift in the narrative was already happening.


    We talked about it for a while, specting that it might¡¯ve been one of Harper¡¯s rivals in the entertainment industry.


    ¡®Or an admirer of yours,¡¯ I joked.


    ¡®Or a hater of hers,¡¯ Yvaine said.


    Turns out, we were both right.

 Chapter 152 - 153 Rhys’s POV: Married Misery

    <h4>Chapter 152: Chapter 153 Rhys¡¯s POV: Married Misery</h4>


    ¡®Who was that?¡¯ Rhys asked the moment Catherine stepped inside.


    She didn¡¯t answer right away. Just shut the door and fussed with her scarf like it was stuck.


    ¡®The woman in the car,¡¯ he said. ¡®You pulled up nearly half an hour ago. Just now decided toe in?¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯s a friend.¡¯


    ¡®Then why didn¡¯t you invite her in?¡¯ He moved towards the window. The woman was getting into another car. ¡®She looks familiar. Have I met her?¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t think so.¡¯ Catherine slid past him. ¡®You¡¯re home early. Not busy at the office?¡¯


    Nice try. ¡®And you¡¯re homete. You¡¯re seven months in, Catherine. What the hell are you doing out driving? The doctor said bed rest. Mum¡¯s told you to stay put.¡¯


    She didn¡¯t respond. Just kept walking.


    He followed her into the dining room.


    Louisa was already seated, eating quietly.


    Willow was glued to her phone.


    Clive wasn¡¯t home.


    Same old picture.


    Catherine reached across the table. ¡®Willow, pass the salt?¡¯


    Willow shoved the pepper shaker closer without looking up.


    Rhys sat down. ¡®You need to take this seriously. Running around like this¡ªit¡¯s not good for the baby.¡¯


    Catherine tightened her grip on her fork and stared at her te.


    ¡®She needs rest,¡¯ Louisa said, not looking up. ¡®If she loses the baby, it¡¯ll be her own fault.¡¯


    No one corrected her.


    Rhys used to.


    He used to get in the middle of these rows.


    Ever since that car-crash of a wedding, it had been non-stop.


    When Catherine¡¯s real identity came out, things only got worse.


    Clive had demanded an annulment.


    Said Catherine tricked Rhys under false pretences, that she was never the Vances¡¯ daughter.


    Louisa nearly had a second heart attack.


    She kept repeating how she¡¯d known something was off and that Mirabelle would¡¯ve been the better choice.


    Maybe Rhys had been stubborn.


    Maybe he¡¯d wanted to prove them wrong.


    Or maybe he did love Catherine. Not the idea of her¡ªthe actual woman.


    Whatever it was, he¡¯d defended her. Loudly.


    In the end, the pregnancy had silenced everyone.


    That, and Clive¡¯s paranoia about the public finding out.


    They buried the story.


    Catherine stayed.


    Buttely...tely Rhys found himself saying less.


    Especially when Louisa brought up Mirabelle and made herparisons.


    It wasn¡¯t that he agreed, exactly.


    It was just hard to deny the facts.


    Mirabelle had built something at Nyx.


    Now she had her own studio.


    She kept working, even after marrying Ashton Laurent, a man even Rhys had to grudgingly admit was richer and more powerful than himself¡ªnot that he¡¯d ever admit it out loud.


    Catherine had quit the day she found out she was pregnant.


    She¡¯d never taken the job of being Rhys¡¯s secretary seriously anyway.


    And now she spent her time shopping and having tea with friends.


    And then there was her so-called half-brother, always calling, always asking for money.


    He imed it was for his sick father, but Rhys knew better.


    How was he supposed to defend any of that?


    So he didn¡¯t.


    After dinner, once Willow vanished upstairs and Louisa started wiping down the table, Catherine drifted into the living room.


    ¡®Did you see the news?¡¯ she asked, hovering near him. ¡®Mirabelle¡¯s getting dragged online. Apparently, she refused to work with some struggling actress. People are calling her a snob.¡¯


    Rhys nced at her. ¡®Really?¡¯


    She handed him her phone. Her nails tapped against the screen. ¡®It¡¯s all over. Look at thements.¡¯


    He scrolled. Harper Foster. That name rang a bell. ¡®That¡¯s who she turned down?¡¯


    Catherine nodded. ¡®Thinks she¡¯s above regr clients now.¡¯


    ¡®Doesn¡¯t sound like her. She took every job at Nyx. She cares about her work. Wouldn¡¯t turn someone away without a reason.¡¯


    He handed the phone back without meeting her eye.


    She locked it sharply.


    He stood to fetch his coffee, but paused. ¡®Wait. Harper¡ªwas that the woman I saw you with earlier? In the car?¡¯


    ¡®No,¡¯ Catherine said too fast.


    ¡®Really?¡¯


    ¡®Really.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t press her.


    In his study, he sat down and opened Instagram.


    Mirabelle¡¯stest post mentioned ¡®The Aureate Awards ¨C Preliminary Qualifier¡¯.


    He almost left ament. Didn¡¯t.


    A knock at the door.


    Catherine stepped in. ¡®Rhys, can I talk to you?¡¯


    ¡®What about?¡¯


    She hesitated. ¡®Jace.¡¯


    And there it was. He bristled. ¡®He wants money again? How many times have I told you to say no to him? He¡¯s living at my penthouse, eating my food, and now he wants me to fund his gambling habit? Cathy, you¡¯ve got to put your foot down. He¡¯s your half-brother. That doesn¡¯t make him your problem.¡¯


    Her face flushed. ¡®I know, but he¡¯s all the family I¡¯ve got left¡ª¡¯


    ¡®And I¡¯m not your family? Mum, Dad, Willow¡ªnone of us count?¡¯


    ¡®Do they see me as family, Rhys?¡¯ she snapped. ¡®Really? Your father looks at me like something the cat dragged in. Your mum never shuts up about dear Mirabelle. Your sister acts like I¡¯m invisible. And you¡ª¡¯


    Her eyes dropped to his phone, screen up on the desk.


    She was across the room in two steps and snatched it off the table. ¡®You¡¯re cyberstalking Mirabelle. Rhys. Seriously?¡¯


    He snatched his phone back. ¡®I¡¯m not stalking her.¡¯


    ¡®Then why were you on her profile?¡¯


    ¡®Just checking up¡ª¡¯ He trailed off.


    No good excuse came.


    So he snapped instead. ¡®Mind your own business, Cathy. At least Mirabelle¡¯s got a career. She¡¯s not mooching off anyone. And she¡¯s not enabling some parasite of a brother. You, block Jace¡¯s number. Get back to bed. Are you trying to kill the baby, jumping around like that?¡¯


    He stormed out.

 Chapter 153 - 154 Disqualified

    <h4>Chapter 153: Chapter 154 Disqualified</h4>


    Yvaine and I had breakfast at her shop, then I headed into my studio to get things ready for the day.


    When the call came, I was excited.


    ¡®Miss Vance, this is Nathan Liddicoat from the organisingmittee of the Aureate Awards.¡¯


    ¡®Good morning.¡¯


    I¡¯d just passed the preliminaries and qualified as an independent designer.


    I assumed he was calling to confirm the next round.


    ¡®We regret to inform you that you¡¯ve been disqualified from thepetition.¡¯


    ¡®Sorry¡ªwhat?¡¯ I sat up straighter. ¡®Could you say that again?¡¯


    He did.


    ¡®Why? Was there an issue with my submission? I can¡ª¡¯


    ¡®There¡¯s nothing wrong with your design,¡¯ he said. His tone was stiff, with a hint of difort. ¡®But someone reported you.¡¯


    ¡®Reported me for what?¡¯


    ¡®There¡¯ve been some negative posts about your studio. Allegations that you turn customers away at the door and only work with celebrities who can pay premium fees.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s absolute bullshit.¡¯ I kept my voice steady, but it took effort. ¡®This is about Harper Foster, isn¡¯t it? That video was fake. She set the whole thing up¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Regardless, the fact is you¡¯ve worked with Miss Octavia Grey but not Miss Foster. One¡¯s a major star, the other¡¯s still unknown. I¡¯m not making assumptions, but¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Sounds like you are,¡¯ I cut in, cold.


    He cleared his throat. ¡®We¡¯ve had multipleints. Different names, different emails. And you understand, our sponsors¡ªmajor brands¡ªare sensitive to controversy. They want winners they can market, not ones caught up in online bacsh. I¡¯m sorry. Maybe you can apply again in three years.¡¯


    The line went dead.


    I stared at the phone, listening to the empty tone in my ear.


    I had no idea how long I sat there.


    The room was silent, the air still.


    Then shouting from across the street snapped me out of it.


    I stood up stiffly, crossed to the window.


    Outside, a crowd had gathered in front of Sugar & Whim.


    Mostly girls. All of them loud, angry, shoving forward.


    I ran.


    The girls were holding up phones, filming, streaming, yelling over each other.


    ¡®That¡¯s her! That¡¯s the one who pped Harper! Her name¡¯s Yvaine Carlisle. She got Harper fired!¡¯


    The shouting didn¡¯t stop.


    They kept filming Yvaine like she was a zoo exhibit.


    One of them panned her camera across the cake disys, then zoomed in on Yvaine¡¯s face.


    The rest packed in behind, elbowing past tables, shoving out regrs.


    Boxes tipped over.


    One girl knocked over a tray of mini meringues and didn¡¯t even nce down.


    Yvaine tried talking. ¡®I had nothing to do with her job.¡¯


    They didn¡¯t care.


    No one listened.


    Dozens of them squeezed inside, loud, hot, hysterical.


    Yvaine was cornered by the counter, trapped.


    She shouted for her staff to call the police.


    That made it worse.


    They surged forward again, pushed her back into the corner.


    Phones still filming.


    More girls pushed through the door.


    One of them stood on a chair.


    I shoved through the crowd.


    A girl elbowed my ribs.


    Another one stepped on my foot.


    I finally got in front of Yvaine.


    She looked boxed in, flushed, breathing hard, shoulder pressed against the espresso machine.


    I stood in front of her.


    ¡®What exactly are you trying to do here?¡¯ I said loudly. ¡®All of you. You think this is justice? Ganging up on a woman?¡¯


    One of them snapped back, ¡®We¡¯re not touching her. We¡¯re just speaking out for Harper!¡¯


    ¡®She lost her job because of this woman,¡¯ another shouted. ¡®She had a script lined up and now it¡¯s gone!¡¯


    ¡®This bitch thinks she¡¯s untouchable. Just because she¡¯s got money and connections¡ª¡¯


    ¡®She tried to cklist Harper!¡¯


    ¡®She stole Harper¡¯s man, and now she¡¯s bitter she didn¡¯t win!¡¯


    ¡®Even if Harper¡¯s cklisted, the truth has toe out! Everyone, keep your livestreams running! Let the whole city see what she¡¯s really like!¡¯


    I looked around at the cameras.


    They were all pointed at us.


    Faces flushed. Eyes shining like they were high off their own outrage.


    They were out for blood.


    Yvaine kept trying. ¡®I had nothing to do with the cklisting. Go ask her agency. And I wasn¡¯t fighting her for a man. That¡¯s not what this is.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re lying!¡¯ someone shrieked. ¡®You¡¯ve got money and connections. Harper¡¯s just a normal girl. She never stood a chance against someone like you!¡¯


    The circle around us kept tightening.


    One girl in front had her camera angled inches from Yvaine¡¯s face.


    I clenched my teeth and shoved down the urge to yell.


    No good screaming at a mob.


    ¡®Think for a second,¡¯ I said, loud enough to cut through the noise. ¡®You¡¯re being used. None of you know if she was cklisted. None of you saw a damn script. The only person who knows the full story is Harper, and she sent all of you here to make a scene while she sits safe at home. If someone gets arrested today, it¡¯s not going to be her. It¡¯ll be you. And that record? That sticks.¡¯


    My mouth was dry.


    My voice cracked a little on thest line.


    A few of them hesitated, fidgeting, ncing around.


    Then a girl behind them shouted, ¡®Don¡¯t listen to her! She¡¯s twisting everything! She¡¯s trying to make Harper look bad!¡¯


    ¡®We¡¯re not leaving till Harper gets justice!¡¯


    The ones at the front pushed harder, holding their phones out like they wanted to jam the lenses into our teeth.


    Someone tripped.


    A table toppled.


    Crockery crashed to the floor and smashed.


    That was it.


    A fuse had been lit.


    ¡®Fuck it, let¡¯s just hit her! Give Harper the revenge she deserves!¡¯


    ¡®There¡¯s two of them and dozens of us. Let¡¯s go!¡¯

 Chapter 154 - 155 Mob

    <h4>Chapter 154: Chapter 155 Mob</h4>


    Hands came at us.


    Yvaine and I both caught the first wrists before they couldnd.


    One phone flew out of someone¡¯s grip and hit the floor with a ck.


    The second row surged forward the moment the first took a swing.


    It was like someone had thrown a switch.


    They shoved in, jostling one another to get closer.


    Phones, elbows, bags¡ªeverything hit at once.


    Yvaine¡¯s staff tried to step in.


    A couple of them linked arms and moved to block the crowd.


    That only made it worse.


    The fans shoved back harder, screeching about being manhandled, wing and thrashing.


    Someone shrieked.


    Someone else swore.


    One girl rammed her shoulder into a shop girl¡¯s chest like they were in a rugby match.


    It turned into a brawl.


    Not even a proper one.


    Just limbs flying and people tripping over handbags and folding stools.


    Yvaine and I got boxed into a corner, but no one could reach us through the chaos.


    Her staff took the brunt of it.


    Most of them were barely out of school, skinny, nervous,pletely outnumbered.


    One girl, maybe five foot nothing, got shoved t on her back.


    She hit the floor hard and didn¡¯t move right away.


    Tables went flying.


    Chairs crashed.


    A ring light hit the floor and snapped in half.


    One of the photo setups copsed like scaffolding in a storm.


    The ss cab by the counter exploded on impact.


    Pastries, shards, icing, and blood.


    Someone slipped.


    Someone else went down on their hands and came up screaming with red smeared down their palm.


    I shouted, ¡®This is insane. Someone¡¯s gonna end up in a body bag. Did anyone call the cops?¡¯


    ¡®We did! They¡¯re on the way!¡¯


    Yvaine and I kept ducking blows, half-crouched, trying to shield the ones still standing.


    My shin stung.


    Her arm was bleeding.


    One of the fans tried to kick me.


    I grabbed her ankle and shoved her back into the mess.


    Then I heard it. A cut through the noise like a whip crack.


    ¡®Enough!¡¯


    We both looked up.


    Cassian Langford was storming in.


    Six foot something, broad shoulders, pressed shirt now rumpled from pushing through.


    He crossed the room in seconds.


    He reached us, grabbed Yvaine¡¯s wrist and started dragging her towards the back.


    Yvaine yanked herself loose. ¡®What the hell are you doing here? Gonna help Harper¡¯s little army beat the crap out of me too?¡¯


    ¡®Jesus, can you not?¡¯ His voice cracked with irritation. ¡®I¡¯m here to get you out.¡¯


    ¡®No one asked you to y hero. Go be useless somewhere else.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re bleeding,¡¯ he snapped. ¡®Maybe stop picking fights for two minutes.¡¯


    Before she coulde up with something worse to say, one of the girls on the left swung a chair straight at us.


    Cassian turned, stepped in front, and caught the hit full-force across his back.


    The chair cracked.


    He didn¡¯t fall, but his whole body jerked.


    His breath hissed through his teeth.


    He ended up mmed against Yvaine, pinning her to the wall.


    She twisted away from him instantly.


    ¡®Don¡¯t touch me. I didn¡¯t ask for your damn help.¡¯


    Cassian looked like he was about to throttle her. ¡®You think I want to be here catching chairs with my spine? I was passing by.¡¯


    ¡®Then keep walking.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re wee,¡¯ he muttered, still shielding her with one arm.


    The crowd surged again.


    A girl lunged, fists swinging.


    Cassian blocked the blow with his shoulder and shoved Yvaine tighter between him and the wall.


    She didn¡¯t like it¡ªrolled her eyes, shoved at his chest¡ªbut didn¡¯t push him off.


    I kept an eye on them while trying to hold off a girl who had one of our mannequin arms like a weapon.


    Yvaine reached out and yanked me behind her.


    That left Cassian with both of us smashed against him while more fans wed at his back.


    I heard him swear under his breath.


    His arms braced on either side of us, trying to keep the wall behind and the chaos in front.


    There wasn¡¯t enough room to fight back.


    He couldn¡¯t even move.


    One of the girls elbowed him hard in the ribs.


    His jaw clenched.


    A momentter, he doubled over slightly, like something inside gave way.


    He didn¡¯t drop, but he spat out blood onto the floor next to my boot.


    ¡®Oh, for fuck¡¯s sake,¡¯ I muttered.


    The sirens cut through the noise.


    Police flooded the entrance a secondter.


    The screaming stopped.


    Most of the girls backed up immediately, phones shaking in their hands, livestreams still running.


    ¡®Shut off your phones. Now,¡¯ one officer barked. ¡®Who started this?¡¯


    Yvaine shoved herself out from behind Cassian¡¯s protective arms. ¡®It was them!¡¯ she yelled, pointing at the group of girls. ¡®They barged in and just went crazy.¡¯


    The officers quickly took statements, checked the store¡¯s CCTV, and confirmed it was the fans who threw the first punch.


    The troublemakers were hauled away, while we were given time to deal with the aftermath before we had to go down to the station.


    Yvaine went to check on the injured employees.


    Two of the girls were badly hurt, and she called an ambnce straight away.


    I could hear Cassian mumbling something about his own injuries, but Yvaine ignored him.


    ¡®I just saved your ass back there, and not even a ¡°thank you¡±?¡¯ he muttered. ¡®Stop cleaning up. That¡¯s not important right now. You two should head to the hospital.¡¯


    I shot him a re. ¡®Don¡¯t act like you¡¯re some hero, Cassian. The whole damn thing¡¯s your fault.¡¯


    He scowled. ¡®How the hell is any¡ª¡¯


    ¡®If you hadn¡¯t let Harper Foster run loose, none of this would¡¯ve happened. You couldn¡¯t even keep your little ything in check. Pathetic.¡¯

 Chapter 155 - 156 Fallout

    <h4>Chapter 155: Chapter 156 Fallout</h4>


    I was beyond pissed.


    I didn¡¯t care how hard he¡¯d tried to y the knight in shining armour.


    I was fed up.


    ¡®You really think we¡¯re going to thank you for getting in the way? You cheated on Yvaine. You screwed Harper. When she came to my studio to start shit, you said you¡¯d handle it, keep her on a leash. Now look.¡¯ I swept an arm over the ss shards and smashed cakes on the floor. ¡®If this is you helping, I don¡¯t even want to think about what happens when you¡¯re trying to make a mess.¡¯


    Cassian opened his mouth like he was going to defend himself, but then closed it, his eyes flicking to the wreckage around us.


    What was there left to say?


    He knew I was right.


    He fumbled for his phone, his fingers stiff as he dialled.


    ¡®Shut Harper Foster down,¡¯ he growled into the phone. ¡®Everything. Her work, her ounts, everything. If I see her on any tform again, you¡¯re all out of a job. Got it?¡¯


    His voice carried across the room, meant for both Yvaine and me to hear.


    But neither of us reacted.


    I grabbed Yvaine¡¯s arm, pulling her to her feet. ¡®Stop cleaning the ss. You¡¯re going to slice your hand open if you¡¯re not careful.¡¯


    Then I looked at Cassian with t eyes. ¡®You know, the store¡¯spletely trashed. We won¡¯t be opening for days. Since all this happened because of you, you can pay for it.¡¯


    He ground his teeth. ¡®Fine. I¡¯ll pay.¡¯


    I stared at him, waiting. ¡®Is that it? Just paying for the repairs?¡¯


    ¡®What else do you want me to do?¡¯


    He hesitated, then turned to Yvaine, his tone softer. ¡®I¡¯m sorry.¡¯


    Yvaine said nothing.


    I took her arm. ¡®Come on, let¡¯s get out of here. We¡¯re going to the hospital.¡¯


    We hadn¡¯t even made it to the door when the sound of screeching tyres pierced the air.


    Two ck cars shot down the street, pulling up right outside the cake shop.


    As the brakes screamed, Ashton and Emmett jumped out.


    Emmett made it in first.


    His eyes locked onto Cassian, and before anyone could say a word, his fist collided with Cassian¡¯s jaw.


    The blow caught himpletely off guard.


    Cassian stumbled back, his hand bracing against the nearest table to stop himself from hitting the floor.


    Emmett¡¯s face was thundercloud-dark as he loomed over Cassian.


    One punch wasn¡¯t enough.


    He wanted more.


    But Cassian, still reeling from the first hit, managed to raise his arms just in time to block Emmett¡¯s next swing.


    The pain from the punch had lit a fuse in him. ¡®Thest time you hit me, I let it go. But this time? I didn¡¯t do a damn thing!¡¯


    Emmett¡¯s rage red.


    He rolled up his sleeves. ¡®You¡¯ve got some nerve. Harper¡¯s been causing trouble for days, and she¡¯s your mess. You¡¯re lucky I didn¡¯t bring a gun.¡¯


    Ashton came up to me, eyes sweeping me head to toe. ¡®Hospital.¡¯


    ¡®I was just going,¡¯ I said. ¡®But I¡¯m fine, mostly.¡¯


    ¡®You didn¡¯t look fine in the videos.¡¯ He was making a visible effort to rein in his temper.


    ¡®Did you juste from a meeting?¡¯ I nced down at his hand. ¡®You¡¯re still holding aser pointer.¡¯


    His fingers were curled tight around it. ¡®Never mind about the bloody meeting. Why didn¡¯t you call me?¡¯


    ¡®I would¡¯ve, if I could¡¯ve reached my phone. It was crazy back there. Like a public lynching.¡¯


    ¡®We¡¯re leaving. Now.¡¯


    Emmett came out of the shop at the same time, steering Yvaine forward like a bodyguard. ¡®Stay the hell away from my sister. Don¡¯t even think about showing up near her again.¡¯


    Cassian moved to follow, but Emmett shut him down with a withering look.


    ¡®And that project we were talking about? It¡¯s off. The Carlisle family won¡¯t be working with you.¡¯


    Cassian¡¯s mouth fell open.


    He looked at Emmett like he couldn¡¯t quite believe what he was hearing.


    He took a beat before speaking. ¡®You can¡¯t be serious. Business is business. You¡¯re really walking away from the deal over this?¡¯


    Emmett didn¡¯t bother replying.


    Ashton cut in. ¡®You can also forget about the project between LGH and The Langford Group. It¡¯s not happening.¡¯


    Cassian whipped around. ¡®What the hell, Ashton? Are you all out of your minds? I didn¡¯t do anything wrong!¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯ve been busy, Cassian. Too busy to handle the people you¡¯re supposed to manage. Maybe you should sort out your personal life before you start talking about business.¡¯


    Cassian looked like he wanted to argue, his forehead beading with sweat, but when he met Ashton¡¯s cold gaze, he bit his tongue.


    ¡®Cassian,¡¯ I said.


    He looked up, hopeful.


    ¡®Don¡¯t forget to clean up the shop. You promised you¡¯d pay.¡¯


    He muttered something under his breath.


    Ashton ushered me into his car.


    Behind us, Yvaine got into Emmett¡¯s.


    ¡®How did you all get here so quickly?¡¯ I asked as we pulled off.


    Ashton exhaled. ¡®Dom saw the livestream, showed it to me. I almost didn¡¯t see you, buried under all that mob. Your hand¡¯s bleeding.¡¯


    He took out a handkerchief and pressed it to my palm.


    I shrugged it off, trying to sound calmer than I felt. ¡®It¡¯s nothing, really. A few bruises here and there. I¡¯ll be fine in a day or two.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll believe it when I hear it from the doctor.¡¯


    ***


    Either Cassian had finallye to his senses, or Ashton¡¯s people had taken over.


    Before evening, Harper Foster¡¯s official ounts issued a public apology.


    She took full responsibility and announced her departure from the industry.


    Then came the trending tags¡ªsponsored posts, edited headlines, ancient scandals suddenly back in rotation.


    The narrative flipped.


    Sympathy shifted.


    The me peeled off me and Yvaine.


    ¡®You¡¯ve had enough screen time.¡¯ Ashton plucked the phone out of my hand.


    ¡®I hurt my hand, not my eyes,¡¯ I grumbled. ¡®I¡¯m fine. The doc said I¡¯m fine. Just scrapes. I¡¯ve had worse from bad wax strips. You didn¡¯t have to drag me home in the middle of the day.¡¯

 Chapter 156 - 157 Gun Lessons

    <h4>Chapter 156: Chapter 157 Gun Lessons</h4>


    Ashton¡¯s jaw was tight again.


    I raised both hands. ¡®Alright, alright. I¡¯ll take a couple of days off. Happy?¡¯


    Barely. His eyes narrowed.


    ¡®Was it you?¡¯ I asked. ¡®The Harper clean-up? It was too fast to be Cassian¡¯s work.¡¯ I gave him a thumbs-up. ¡®Thanks for the help.¡¯


    His expression darkened. ¡®I wasn¡¯t ¡°helping¡± you. Protecting my wife is part of the contract uses.¡¯


    I blinked. ¡®I don¡¯t remember that.¡¯


    ¡®I wrote the contract.¡¯


    Fair point. I dropped it.


    ¡®I¡¯ll assign you bodyguards,¡¯ he said.


    ¡®No.¡¯ I didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡®I¡¯m not walking around with shadows. I want to live, not be babysat.¡¯


    His re didn¡¯t budge.


    He looked like he was weighing whether to fight me on it.


    So I rose from the sofa and kissed him on the cheek.


    ¡®Thanks for caring,¡¯ I said. ¡®But it was a one-off. Not happening again.¡¯


    He stared at me.


    ¡®I¡¯ll carry pepper spray,¡¯ I added.


    He exhaled. ¡®Fine. I¡¯ll get you a gun permit.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ve never fired one. I don¡¯t even know how.¡¯


    ¡®Then you¡¯ll learn.¡¯


    I nced at his hands.


    Not soft hands. The kind with memory in them.


    I¡¯d noticed it on day one.


    The calluses. Right spots for either a pen... or a gun.


    Now I was pretty sure which one it was.


    I opened my mouth.


    Then closed it again.


    There was a part of me that wanted to ask.


    About the past.


    About how exactly he¡¯de to be the kind of man who said ¡®Then you¡¯ll learn¡¯ like gun training was as routine as brushing your teeth.


    I wanted to know if he¡¯d ever used one.


    But I didn¡¯t ask.


    Not because I didn¡¯t care.


    Because I thought of Cassian.


    It wasn¡¯t fair topare.


    Ashton was nothing like him.


    But still... what if?


    I¡¯d spent years pining after Rhys.


    I¡¯d built a fantasy on crumbs and carried it like a meal.


    Did I really want to do that again?


    Ashton wasn¡¯t crumbs.


    Ashton was... whole. Composed. Reliable.


    Dangerous in ways that made you feel safe, not scared.


    But if I stepped into something real with him¡ªfully stepped in¡ªwhat would I lose if it went wrong?


    And then there was what Cassian had said.


    That Ashton had loved someone else, for years.


    Some mystery woman who, for whatever reason, he couldn¡¯t have.


    So I swallowed my question.


    ***


    I wasn¡¯t allowed out of the house till three whole dayster.


    The air in the studio tasted like freedom, and the work was what I¡¯d been starved of.


    I was polishing a pearl ne with a lint-free cloth, using slow, exact strokes.


    The sp clicked every time I shifted it.


    The pearls were round, wless, warm against my fingers.


    It was a custom order from Yvaine, a wedding gift for her cousin, Rachel Stone.


    I¡¯d met Rachel twice.


    She smiled with all her teeth and had the kind of posture that made other women straighten up around her.


    Her wedding was in two days.


    I was sending her a matching set, ne and earrings.


    The earrings were already boxed.


    The ne hade off the stringing board ten minutes ago.


    Yvaine wanted Rachel to wear it down the aisle, so I nned to pack it and have Daniel run it over before lunch.


    The wind chimes by the studio door jingled.


    I nced up from my workbench.


    Light footsteps.


    I was still on the mezzanine, half-crouched over the tray.


    I set the ne down and stood, brushing my palms down the sides of my apron.


    Below me, Priya was greeting the walk-in customer.


    ¡®Good afternoon, miss. Are you here for amission?¡¯


    ¡®No. I¡¯m looking for Mirabelle.¡¯


    I paused mid-step.


    I hadn¡¯t seen her for months, but I¡¯d never forget that voice.


    Catherine¡¯s voice sounded off, like her throat had dried out halfway through the sentence.


    I crept to the railing and peeked down.


    From my angle above, I could see everything.


    Her skin looked greyish.


    Her mouth was colourless.


    Her bnce shifted every few seconds, like she couldn¡¯t stay upright for long.


    I stared at her stomach.


    I didn¡¯t see much of a bump.


    I raised a hand and gestured quickly at Daniel.


    He stood at the far end of the mezzanine with a tablet in one hand and a croissant in the other.


    He frowned.


    I pointed at him, then at my phone, then at Catherine.


    He got the hint, shoved the croissant in his mouth, and opened the camera app.


    Once Daniel started recording, I moved slowly down the stairs.


    Below, Priya reached a hand towards Catherine¡¯s elbow. ¡®You look a little unwell. Why don¡¯t you sit down? I¡¯ll go get Mirabelle.¡¯


    ¡®Priya, don¡¯t touch her!¡¯ I called out. ¡®She¡¯s pregnant. Keep your distance.¡¯


    Priya froze mid-step, hand half-raised, and quickly backed off.


    She nced up at me, startled.


    I caught her expression¡ªconfused, polite, too professional to ask what the hell that was about.


    Catherine¡¯s hand flew to her stomach like it had a ma in it.


    Her face went paler than it already was.


    I came down the stairs but stopped short, keeping a good two metres between us.


    ¡®You need something?¡¯


    Catherine forced a smile. Her lips barely moved. ¡®Nothing urgent. I was passing by and thought I¡¯d pop in... maybe ask for a ss of water.¡¯


    Right. Because the woman who stole my ex-fianc¨¦ and hated my guts just wandered into jewellery studios for hydration.


    Her tone was catory, almost submissive.


    It was new.


    Usually, she acted like I was something she¡¯d stepped over on a pavement.


    Priya nced between us, probably wondering why I looked like I wanted to call pest control.


    I didn¡¯t move any closer.


    ¡®We just finished renovations. Nothing¡¯s stocked yet. No water. No snacks.¡¯


    Catherine¡¯s smile twitched. She nodded like she understood, but didn¡¯t step back.


    ¡®I just wanted to see how you¡¯re doing. Rhys and I are married now. That Chapter¡¯s closed. I don¡¯t see you as the enemy.¡¯


    ¡®Fine by me if you do see me as the enemy,¡¯ I said. ¡®But there¡¯s still no water, and we¡¯re working. You done?¡¯

 Chapter 157 - 158 Scapegoat

    <h4>Chapter 157: Chapter 158 Scapegoat</h4>


    Catherine stepped forward.


    I stepped back.


    Her heel scraped against the tile.


    My shoulder hit the edge of a shelf.


    We both paused.


    She smiled again. ¡®I heard about your new studio. Thought I¡¯d stop in and congratte you.¡¯


    ¡®Consider it received. Door¡¯s that way.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ve been walking for hours. Can¡¯t I just rest my legs here for a while longer?¡¯


    ¡®What, Rhys can¡¯t get you a driver? A nanny? By the way, why are you waddling around in the dead of winter with a baby bump?¡¯


    She stopped walking.


    Her chin dipped.


    Two tears slid down her face.


    ¡®I didn¡¯te here to fight,¡¯ she whispered. ¡®Why are you being so hostile?¡¯


    ¡®I wasn¡¯t. Don¡¯t twist it. I just think it¡¯s weird you¡¯re out here dragging your pregnant arse across town. I don¡¯t have water. I don¡¯t have heating either. Go home.¡¯


    She kept one hand mped to her stomach like she was bracing for impact.


    Her face was sickly pale, almost grey.


    Another tear rolled down.


    My scalp prickled.


    I tried to be polite. ¡®The weather¡¯s shite. You should go home. Do you want me to call you a car?¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯ She wiped her face, then gave me a pathetic little smile. ¡®Forget it. I get it. You hate me. Even if I apologised, you wouldn¡¯t forgive me.¡¯


    She looked at me for a long moment, then turned around and walked out.


    I watched her go.


    She moved slow, one hand still on her bump.


    Her shoulders hunched.


    Her steps were stiff, dragging.


    Once the door shut, I turned to Priya. ¡®Follow her. Quietly. I want to know where she goes.¡¯


    Priya grabbed her coat and slipped outside.


    She was back two minutester, breathing hard.


    ¡®She gged a cab. Got in and left.¡¯


    ¡®Anything weird?¡¯


    ¡®No. Just looked tired. Fragile, almost.¡¯


    I let out a breath. ¡®Good. Last thing I need is her faking a miscarriage on my bloody tile floor.¡¯


    The reliefsted until dinner.


    I was halfway through a bite of roast chicken when my phone lit up with Louisa Granger¡¯s name.


    I wiped my fingers on a napkin and answered.


    ¡®Aunt Louisa, how are you?¡¯


    It wasn¡¯t Louisa.


    Rhys¡¯s voice exploded through the speaker like a fire rm.


    ¡®Mirabelle Vance! You spiteful bitch! You killed my baby!¡¯


    My hand jerked.


    The fork ttered against my te.


    Across the table, Ashton stilled, his wine ss hovering in mid-air.


    ¡®Cathy miscarried after seeing you! You¡¯ve always hated her, fine, but the baby? How the fuck could you do this to my kid?¡¯


    He was shouting so loud my ear rang.


    I shifted the phone away.


    Ashton leaned forward. ¡®What is it?¡¯


    I looked at him. My throat felt tight.


    ¡®Catherine lost the baby. They¡¯re saying it¡¯s my fault.¡¯


    Rhys must¡¯ve heard me.


    ¡®It IS your fault! She was fine this morning. You sent her into a meltdown. What the hell did you say to her?¡¯


    He wasn¡¯t even giving me space to answer.


    The same Rhys who once tried to convince Catherine to get rid of the baby was now screaming at me like I¡¯dmitted murder.


    ¡®You pushed her over the edge! You killed my child! I want a fucking exnation!¡¯


    In the background, Louisa¡¯s voice broke in.


    ¡®Mirabelle, what did you say to her? She walked out of your studio and now the baby¡¯s gone¡ªwhat happened?¡¯


    I exhaled hard and t.


    My chest felt tight from holding it in too long.


    ¡®She came by this afternoon, yeah. Stayed maybe ten minutes, max. I didn¡¯t touch her. We barely spoke. Whatever happened after that has fuck-all to do with me.¡¯


    Rhys didn¡¯t buy a word of it. ¡®Cathy¡¯s beenpletely healthy. She sees you for ten minutes and ends up in the hospital? You had to have said something.¡¯


    ¡®Healthy? She looked pale as hell the second she showed up. For all I know, the miscarriage had already started and she just needed someone to me.¡¯


    ¡®Bullshit! She only started cramping after she left your ce. The timeline lines up. The doctor confirmed it.¡¯


    ¡®I didn¡¯t say anything. I¡ª¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯s been crying non-stop!¡¯ Rhys shouted over my voice. ¡®She told me she went to your studio for a ss of water and you mocked her. You upset her so badly she¡ª¡¯


    His voice caught.


    I dragged a hand down my face.


    ¡®So she shows up uninvited, doesn¡¯t drink anything, and now I¡¯m supposed to take the fall because her uterus had a meltdown? If she¡¯s got enough energy to use me of murder, she¡¯s got enough to exin it to you herself. Why are you calling me?¡¯


    There was a beat of silence, then Rhys mumbled, ¡®She¡¯s weak. She can¡¯t talk right now.¡¯


    ¡®Oh, that¡¯s convenient. Can¡¯t talk but managed to give you a full emotional monologue about the mean things I supposedly said? Amazing how her memory works when it suits her.¡¯


    ¡®Mirabelle Vance!¡¯ Rhys roared. ¡®She¡¯s barely hanging on and you¡¯re still making excuses. Do you even have a heart?¡¯


    ¡®I have more than that. I have video. I filmed the whole thing. Bet she didn¡¯t tell you that, did she? I¡¯ll send the video right now. You can both watch and tell me exactly where I murdered your miracle baby.¡¯


    I ended the call and tossed my phone on the table.


    I¡¯d lost my appetite.


    I rang Daniel. ¡®Send me the video from earlier. The one I asked you to record at the studio.¡¯


    He forwarded it within seconds.


    I hit send to Louisa without bothering to type a message.


    ¡®Good thing I had someone record it,¡¯ I muttered. ¡®I knew something was off the moment she showed up.¡¯


    Ashton stepped in behind me, leaning in to watch the screen over my shoulder.


    ¡®She looked pale,¡¯ he said. ¡®And sickly. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if she¡¯d already lost the baby by then. Probably showed up just so she could pin it on you.¡¯


    I nodded. ¡®Makes sense now. I couldn¡¯t figure out what the hell she wanted from me. But that baby was the only thing keeping her relevant to the Grangers. Without it, she¡¯s got nothing. If she mes me, she gets to y the victim. Aunt Louisa won¡¯te down on her too hard, and Rhys¡¯ll turn all that rage on me instead.¡¯


    I set my phone down. ¡®She picked the perfect scapegoat.¡¯


    Except she didn¡¯t count on me having a backup n.


    I opened the chat with Louisa.


    No reply.


    She¡¯d seen it.


    There was nothing left to say.

 Chapter 158 - 159 Ashton’s POV: Retribution

    <h4>Chapter 158: Chapter 159 Ashton¡¯s POV: Retribution</h4>


    Ashton stayed in the study after dinner.


    He sat still for a few minutes, watching the light shift on the edge of his desk, trying to let it go.


    He couldn¡¯t.


    The Grangers had med Mirabelle without proof.


    Then stayed silent after seeing the evidence.


    No apology. Just quiet cowardice.


    He picked up his phone and called Dominic.


    ¡®Find out where Catherine Vance is being treated.¡¯


    Dominic rang back twelve minutester.


    ¡®She¡¯s in a private clinic,¡¯ he said. ¡®Same ce that issued the miscarriage report.¡¯


    Ashton stared at the clinic¡¯s name.


    The director there owed him a favour.


    He called directly. ¡®Check Catherine Vance¡¯s file. I want to know if it was tampered with.¡¯


    The director got back within fifteen minutes.


    He sounded pissed off and sheepish at the same time.


    ¡®One of our doctors took a bribe. Changed the timing on the report from morning to afternoon. I¡¯ve suspended him.¡¯


    Dominic called again.


    ¡®Catherine was seen at another hospital yesterday. Just after nine am. Security footage confirms it. She didn¡¯t stay long. I¡¯m forwarding you the miscarriage report.¡¯


    Everything lined up.


    She¡¯d lost the baby in the morning.


    Got confirmation from the hospital, realised they couldn¡¯t alter the records, so she bribed someone at a private clinic.


    Then she¡¯d gone to Mirabelle¡¯s studio, staged the confrontation, then checked into the clinic, where the paperwork said she miscarried in the afternoon.


    Ashton leaned back in his chair, lips twitching once in disdain.


    It was pathetic.


    Did she really think no one would dig? That she could pull a stunt like that and walk away clean?


    She was partially right¡ªRhys Granger hadn¡¯t bothered checking a single fact before tearing into Mirabelle.


    But that didn¡¯t mean everyone else was as dumb as Rhys.


    Ashton called Dominic again.


    ¡®Send everything we have to Clive Granger. The hospital footage, the forged report, all of it.¡¯


    ¡®Understood, Mr Laurent.¡¯


    ¡®And give him a message. If he wants his family to stay in Skyline City, he¡¯d better leash his son.¡¯


    ¡®Yes, sir.¡¯


    Half an hourter, Dominic sent him a video.


    The shot was of a hospital room.


    Catherine¡¯s crying could be heard in the background.


    The frame was focused on Clive, who pped Rhys across the face.


    ¡®You med Mirabelle without checking a damn thing. Apologise to her.¡¯


    Rhys stood stiff, one hand over his cheek.


    ¡®Sorry,¡¯ he muttered to the camera, barely audible.


    Ashton hadn¡¯t finished watching before Dominic rang again.


    ¡®Clive Granger says he¡¯s dealt with Rhys. They know Catherine set the whole thing up. He wants to know if that video satisfies you.¡¯


    ¡®You tell him that wasn¡¯t a punishment. That was theatre. And I¡¯m not in the mood for shows.¡¯


    Ten minutester, a second video came through.


    This time, Clive struck his son three times.


    Not soft taps for the camera.


    One strike split the skin at the corner of Rhys¡¯s mouth.


    His cheek turned blotchy, eyelid already starting to puff.


    Ashton yed it back. Then again.


    Dominic called. ¡®Clive says this time it¡¯s real. He says if that still doesn¡¯t satisfy you, he¡¯s willing to bring Rhys to your office personally. Or to your house. Wherever you want. Apology on his knees, if necessary. And he wants you to know he¡¯s keeping Catherine locked down for the foreseeable future.¡¯


    Ashton rubbed his jaw slowly. ¡®Tell him I¡¯m... not quite happy, but seem to be relenting.¡¯


    ¡®You want him to think the videos are working?¡¯


    ¡®Exactly. Feed him that. Make sure he believes he¡¯s bought a sliver of goodwill, but not enough to feel safe.¡¯


    ¡®Understood.¡¯


    ¡®And Dom, start acquiring Granger Development Group stock. Anything floating in public hands, get it discreetly. Use proxies. Keep it clean.¡¯


    ¡®Yes, sir. I¡¯ll activate the secondary fund. It won¡¯t ping the Grangers until we¡¯re well past the eight per cent mark.¡¯


    ¡®Good. I want Clive focusing on Rhys, not the boardroom.¡¯


    Ashton rose and moved to the window.


    ¡®Also, start pushing whispers about Rhys and Catherine¡¯s marriage. Make it sound like it¡¯s on the rocks.¡¯


    ¡®Any specific angle?¡¯


    ¡®They had a fight. He¡¯s seeing another woman. Anything. Use your imagination. I want the public to think they¡¯re on the verge of divorce. Once the word spreads, Clive Granger will do everything to prove the marriage is still intact.


    ¡®He won¡¯t risk a divorce scandal. Not so soon after the wedding.¡¯


    ¡®Exactly. Keep the Grangers in a holding pattern, confused, reactive.¡¯


    ¡®Understood, sir.¡¯


    The study went quiet after the call ended.


    Ashton leaned back, rolled the crystal ss between his fingers.


    The whisky barely sloshed.


    He nced towards the hallway.


    Her bedroom door must still be shut, just like it had been when he walked past earlier.


    The light under the door had been on.


    What was she doing?


    What would she say if she knew what he¡¯d done tonight?


    It wasn¡¯t illegal, not quite.


    But there was nothing clean about it, either.


    Would she be disappointed?


    He remembered her face the other day, when he said he¡¯d take her to the range for shooting lessons.


    She hadn¡¯t flinched, not exactly.


    But she¡¯d wanted to say no, he could tell.


    And she¡¯d given all sorts of excuses since to push back the first lesson.


    Would she be scared of him if she knew?


    Not just tonight¡¯s quiet war against the Grangers.


    But the version of him from the early days.


    His ownpany, Titanova, was built in ces where bribery worked better than ballots, wherewyers couldn¡¯t reach and didn¡¯t try.


    Hispetitors had disappeared.


    Sometimes quietly.


    Sometimes with noise.


    And he¡¯d survived because he hadn¡¯t hesitated, and because he knew how to use a gun.


    But that was years ago.


    That version of him was fading.


    Had to be.


    If he wanted to stay here, with her, he couldn¡¯t be that man any more.


    He turned back to the desk, unlocked the second phone, and made another call.


    ¡®Confirm the Brazil handoff¡¯s on track,¡¯ he said. ¡®No dys. I want full operational authority transferred before the quarter ends.¡¯


    ¡®Yes, Mr Laurent.¡¯


    ¡®And keep guiding Titanova into clean-tech. Slow, but steady. No blood. I want the next investment rounds fit for press conferences.¡¯


    ¡®We¡¯ll get it done.¡¯


    He hung up and started another.

 Chapter 159 - 160 Good News

    <h4>Chapter 159: Chapter 160 Good News</h4>


    Yvaine rang just after eight.


    I was halfway through doing my eyeliner.


    ¡®Mira, you want me toe pick you up?¡¯


    ¡®No need.¡¯ I held the phone between my shoulder and ear and reached for my mascara. ¡®It¡¯s not even nine. The wedding starts at noon. I¡¯ll drive over myself.¡¯


    She giggled on the other end. ¡®I¡¯m already on my way. Couldn¡¯t sleep a damn minutest night, I was so keyed up. Rachel¡¯s wedding!¡¯


    ¡®Alright, alright, I¡¯ming. I¡¯ll find you when I get there.¡¯


    ¡®Yes, please. Don¡¯t leave me with my mother¡¯s side of the family.¡¯


    Yvaine had been bouncing about her cousin¡¯s wedding for a week.


    Said she was more excited than if it were her own.


    I believed her.


    I got to the venue just before eleven, still plenty of time before the ceremony.


    Yvaine grabbed my arm the second she saw me and dragged me through the side corridor towards the bridal suite.


    ¡®Come on, let¡¯s see if Rachel needs anything.¡¯


    She didn¡¯t.


    Rachel¡¯s people had already covered everything¡ªmakeup artists, stylists, nners, hotel staff, a fussy old woman who might¡¯ve been a florist or just someone¡¯s aunt with opinions.


    We stood there smiling like spare coat racks for about ten minutes before Rachel¡¯s maid of honour gently suggested we head back downstairs.


    The banquet hall was almost full when we returned.


    Polished floors, crystal sses, gold trim on everything.


    I didn¡¯t even want to guess what the floral arrangements cost.


    Yvaine leaned in, scanning the room. ¡®Is Ashton noting?¡¯


    ¡®He is. Just runningte.¡¯ I checked my phone. ¡®Had a meeting this morning. Said he¡¯ll be here right after.¡¯


    Rachel¡¯s father had some minor deals with LGHst year.


    Add to that my friendship with Rachel, and of course Ashton was going to show face.


    Yvaine and I were wandering near the bar, trying not to ogle the cocktails.


    I turned my head and spotted Octavia Grey walking in through the front entrance, heels sharp, dress silver, hair slicked into a low knot.


    Phones went up instantly.


    Half the room swivelled towards her.


    I stepped away from Yvaine. ¡®Miss Grey, I didn¡¯t know you wereing.¡¯


    She lit up when she saw me. ¡®How many times do I have to tell you, call me Octavia. Rachel and I went to school together. I¡¯m giving a speechter, actually.¡¯


    A crowd had formed.


    Everyone who wasn¡¯t already filming her looked like they were about to crawl across the carpet for a selfie.


    I tilted my head towards the back. ¡®You¡¯d better get moving. You¡¯re causing traffic.¡¯


    She grinned. ¡®Right. I¡¯ll go catch up with Rachel first. See youter.¡¯


    She turned to go, then pivoted back and lowered her voice. ¡®Wait. Got some good news for you.¡¯


    She grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards a corner behind the flower wall where no one was hovering with a camera.


    ¡®I heard about what happened with the Aureate Awards.¡¯


    I winced. ¡®Yeah. How do you know that?¡¯


    And how could me getting disqualified count as good news?


    She gave a shortugh through her nose. ¡®The sponsors are European. One of their sub-brands wants me as a spokesperson. I was on a call with them yesterday. It came up.¡¯


    ¡®Oh.¡¯


    Just hearing it brought back the whole mess.


    I hadn¡¯t cried over it, but the second the phone call came, I¡¯d wanted to put my fist through my workbench.


    Octavia noticed. She paused, smiled like she¡¯d been holding onto a secret too long, then said, ¡®I got your spot reinstated.¡¯


    I stared. ¡®You¡¯re serious?¡¯


    ¡®Of course I am. They want me on their ads. They¡¯ll do whatever I tell them.¡¯


    Gratitude kicked in first, then doubt crawled in after it.


    ¡®I don¡¯t know how to thank you. But... what if people find out and say I pulled strings? Say I cheated my way in?¡¯


    Octavia huffed. ¡®That spot was yours to begin with. I just got it back for you. If you¡¯d asked Ashton to sort it, he wouldn¡¯t even have to speak. One call from his assistant and it¡¯d be done.¡¯


    She nudged me with an elbow. ¡®I don¡¯t get why you didn¡¯t ask him. Wasting that kind of connection is kind of dumb. Don¡¯t me me for being blunt. Honestly, Inded my first big acting role with his help, but can you say I cheated? That I didn¡¯t have the talent deserving of the opportunity?¡¯


    She wasn¡¯t wrong.


    It was blunt, but it was true.


    I smiled. ¡®Thank you, truly.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t mention it. Oh, also, they want me as a judge. I said yes. Sounds fun. Don¡¯t freeze up when I¡¯m scoring your work.¡¯


    ¡®I won¡¯t. I¡¯ve handled worse.¡¯


    ¡®Good. I¡¯m off to find Rachel. You¡¯ll probably hear from the organisers before the day¡¯s over.¡¯


    ¡®Got it.¡¯


    Once she disappeared into the crowd, I turned back to find Yvaine.


    I¡¯d just filled her in when someone near the canap¨¦ table let out a whisper.


    ¡®Who are they? Damn, he¡¯s gorgeous.¡¯


    We both nced at the entrance.


    Cassian Langford had just walked in with some woman clinging to his arm.


    He was in a charcoal suit, perfectly cut, cor stiff, hair slicked back.


    She was tall, wless skin, wearing a te-grey dress with sheer sleeves.


    Her arm looped around his, and her chest pressed right against his side.


    I didn¡¯t hold back. ¡®I wish Emmett had beat him up worse.¡¯


    I looked at Yvaine.


    She was staring at the doorway like she¡¯d forgotten to blink.


    This was her cousin¡¯s wedding. Her family¡¯s event.


    And he¡¯d shown up like that, like he wanted her to see. Like he wanted her to choke on it.


    The people around us were still talking.


    ¡®That¡¯s the Langford kid, right? And that¡¯s Alexis Rivera with him?¡¯


    ¡®The Rivera heiress?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah, looks like it. They look good together.¡¯


    ¡®Not just looks. The families match too. Probably nning an engagement.¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s never brought anyone out in public before. If she¡¯s here now, it¡¯s serious.¡¯


    Their voices blended into one long string of smug praise.


    Yvaine¡¯s hand brushed mine.


    ¡®Let¡¯s go,¡¯ she said quietly.


    Cassian spotted us before we could disappear.

 Chapter 160 - 161 Second Chance

    <h4>Chapter 160: Chapter 161 Second Chance</h4>


    Yvaine stiffened, but it was toote, he was already striding over.


    Cassian stopped right in front of her and gave a shallow nod. No words. Just the bare minimum to make it look civil.


    ¡®What the hell are you doing here?¡¯ I snapped. ¡®You¡¯re blocking our way.¡¯


    His smile twitched, then vanishedpletely. ¡®Yvaine¡ª¡¯


    ¡®And I are just leaving. Come on, Yvaine.¡¯


    We cut through the crowd towards a side corridor.


    At the end of it, there was a narrow balcony tucked behind a set of whitettice doors.


    The music sounded distant from here.


    I asked, low, ¡®Still stuck on him?¡¯


    Yvaine let out a thin breath. ¡®It¡¯s only been a few weeks. If I could drop him that fast, I¡¯d be exactly like him.¡¯


    She used to tell me she was over him.


    At least now she was being honest.


    ¡®He¡¯s swapped out two already,¡¯ she said tly. ¡®I don¡¯t know why I thought I ever mattered.¡¯


    I stayed quiet.


    She wasn¡¯t looking for advice.


    ¡®It¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll feel like shit for a bit. Then I won¡¯t. All I need is a bit of time.¡¯


    I patted her hand.


    Then someone from her family called her name.


    ¡®Want me toe with?¡¯ I offered.


    ¡®No, I¡¯ll be fine.¡¯ Yvaine gave me an apologetic smile and walked off, her back held too straight.


    I headed for the balcony on my own.


    I rounded the corner¡ªand stopped.


    Someone was already there.


    The light caught the edge of his sleeve, the cor of his coat.


    I turned to leave.


    ¡®Mirabelle.¡¯


    ¡®Damn it,¡¯ I muttered, then turned around reluctantly.


    Rhys stood by the railing.


    He looked paler than usual, his hair messier.


    There was a dark patch of stubble along his jaw.


    His suit jacket hung crooked, like he hadn¡¯t noticed it was creased.


    ¡®Came here to see me?¡¯ he asked.


    ¡®Don¡¯t tter yourself. I was just walking around.¡¯


    I turned and started walking off.


    ¡®I¡¯m filing for divorce.¡¯


    I stopped.


    ¡®From Catherine,¡¯ he added, as if I could mistake his meaning.


    I turned, slowly.


    He took a step forward. ¡®I¡¯m ending it with Catherine. If I do... we¡ª¡¯


    He choked on the rest.


    I could see iting, the stupid question he didn¡¯t have the guts to finish.


    ¡®You getting a divorce has nothing to do with me.¡¯


    He stepped closer, agitated now. ¡®If I end it, then we still¡ª¡¯


    ¡®You still don¡¯t have a chance with her.¡¯


    Ashton rounded the corner, walking fast.


    His gaze locked on Rhys like he was deciding where to hit first.


    Rhys backed up half a step.


    ¡®Flirting with my wife in public?¡¯ Ashton stopped right in front of him. ¡®Did you not see the ring? Or are you selectively blind?¡¯


    ¡®I...¡¯ Rhys licked his dry lips.


    Ashton turned to me, pushed a strand of hair off my temple and tucked it behind my ear.


    He took my hand. ¡®It¡¯s starting. Let¡¯s go.¡¯


    I nodded. ¡®Alright.¡¯


    He ced a hand at the small of my back and guided me inside.


    Behind us, I could feel Rhys watching.


    Ashton leaned in. ¡®Was he bothering you?¡¯


    His lips brushed the edge of my ear.


    ¡®No. I spoke maybe all of two sentences, that¡¯s it.¡¯


    By the time we reached the ballroom doors, the sound wrapped around us¡ªcutlery clinking, a string quartet scraping through a breathy jazz cover, bursts ofughter bouncing off marble.


    The crowd shifted when they noticed us¡ªor rather, Ashton.


    Conversations slowed.


    People leaned across tables and cupped their hands over champagne flutes.


    Ashton walked beside me, his steps matching mine exactly.


    He angled slightly towards me, close enough that I could hear his soft breathing.


    We took our seats at the top table.


    I kept my chin up and my spine straight, sensing eyes on us from every angle.


    People stared, then looked away as if caught doing something shameful.


    Yvaine returned, slightly breathless, and dropped into the seat next to mine.


    ¡®Ceremony¡¯s starting in two minutes,¡¯ she whispered.


    The vows dragged.


    At one point, Yvaine sniffled and wiped her cheek with a cocktail napkin.


    Her mascara bled under both eyes, but she smiled through it.


    Then came the bouquet toss.


    The band switched to some cloying pop remix.


    A bunch of women scrambled up onto the dais¡ªRachel Stone¡¯s bridesmaids elbowed their way to the front, squealing like they were at a shoe sale.


    ¡®Not gonna join in?¡¯ Ashton whispered to me.


    ¡®I¡¯m already married, aren¡¯t I?¡¯ I shed him my ring.


    He leaned back, satisfied.


    The flowers flew.


    By the time people noticed Alexis had even joined in, the bouquet was already in her hand.


    She stepped down from the tform like she hadn¡¯t just sprinted in heels and muscled through five bridesmaids.


    People turned in their seats.


    A few gasped.


    Someone let out a sharp littleugh and got shushed.


    Alexis returned to her table like nothing was off, bouquet resting lightly in her grip.


    Cassian leaned back as she held it out to him.


    He didn¡¯t take it.


    She ced the bouquet on the table between them, adjusted a petal, then picked up her drink without saying a word.


    That was enough to set the room off again.


    Heads tilted together.


    People murmured behind cloth napkins.


    ¡®Did she just propose to him?¡¯


    ¡®It looked like it.¡¯


    ¡®Isn¡¯t it supposed to be the guy who proposes?¡¯


    ¡®But he didn¡¯t take it.¡¯


    ¡®They¡¯re probably already engaged. This is just for show.¡¯


    ¡®Bet they announce it next week.¡¯


    The music picked up again.


    A waiter passed by with chocte mousse in shot sses.


    Someone clinked a spoon against a flute.


    I nced at Yvaine.


    She wasughing at something a woman in emerald said, her mouth glossy from wine, no trace of annoyance or tension anywhere.


    Her posture was rxed.


    ¡®Are those flowers always this much?¡¯ Ashton asked, looking down at the centrepiece between us.


    It was an enormous, absurd explosion of peonies and garden roses, mostly white, with the odd dusty pink one mixed in.


    ¡®Depends who¡¯s paying. And whether the bride¡¯s mother¡¯s in therapy or not.¡¯


    ¡®Mm.¡¯ He paused, eyes on the bouquet. ¡®Would you want something like this? For yours.¡¯

 Chapter 161 - 162 Wedding Plans

    <h4>Chapter 161: Chapter 162 Wedding ns</h4>


    I nced at him. ¡®My what?¡¯


    ¡®Wedding,¡¯ Ashton said.


    ¡®We¡¯re already married,¡¯ I said automatically.


    ¡®Contractually,¡¯ he murmured. ¡®Not exactly what I meant.¡¯


    Yvaine stood. ¡®Excuse me, I¡¯m going to thedies¡¯.¡¯


    ¡®Need me toe with?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®Nah.¡¯ She smiled at Ashton. ¡®You¡¯ve gotpany.¡¯


    I followed her with my eyes.


    She didn¡¯t look upset, but she took a wide detour to avoid walking past Cassian¡¯s table.


    ¡®You¡¯re quiet,¡¯ Ashton said.


    ¡®I¡¯m watching the fallout of a terrible snap decision.¡¯


    ¡®Yours or hers?¡¯


    I turned to face him properly.


    His tie was still perfect.


    He hadn¡¯t loosened it.


    His posture hadn¡¯t changed since we sat down, spine straight, hands resting lightly on the tablecloth, eyes impossible to read.


    Only his thumb moved, tracing a slow line against the side of his wine ss.


    ¡®Why are you asking me about weddings?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®We¡¯re here, aren¡¯t we? Such an asion naturally brings that topic to mind. Seemed reasonable to check what you like.¡¯


    I blinked at him. ¡®Are you trying to n a hypothetical wedding with me?¡¯


    He tilted his head slightly, as if I were the one being obtuse. ¡®What if, hypothetically, I said yes?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re not joking.¡¯


    ¡®I rarely do.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re asking if I want a real wedding. With you.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m asking what kind of wedding you¡¯d find tolerable, should circumstances evolve.¡¯


    ¡®Circumstances like... us not faking it anymore?¡¯


    ¡®Something like that.¡¯


    My heart was a mess.


    ¡®Mirabelle!¡¯ The bride appeared next to me, arm linked with her groom. ¡®I have toe and say thank you! The ne is...¡¯ She touched her neck. ¡®Simply divine.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m d you like it.¡¯ I raised my ss and offered a toast.


    The groom tried to engage Ashton in a conversation, and by the time the newlywed moved on, I¡¯d lost track of my conversation with Ashton.


    I checked the time.


    Cake had been sliced.


    People were leaving.


    A few kids ran across the dance floor, dragging a satin ribbon between them like a leash.


    Yvaine¡¯s seat was empty.


    Ten more minutes passed.


    Still no Yvaine.


    I leaned towards Ashton. ¡®I¡¯m going to look for Yvaine. She¡¯s been gone too long.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t stop me.


    The hallway behind the ballroom smelled ofvender soap and floor polish.


    A server carried a stack of tes past me.


    I scanned the prep room, then poked my head into the bridal suite.


    Empty.


    Rachel popped out of the dressing room with her heels in one hand and a gran bar in the other.


    Her updo was copsing.


    ¡®Yvaine came through earlier,¡¯ she said, chewing. ¡®She didn¡¯t stay long.¡¯


    I called Yvaine.


    Straight to voicemail.


    I turned around and went back into the ballroom.


    She wasn¡¯t at the top table.


    I kept checking the rest of the ce, until I returned to the balcony where I¡¯d run into Rhys earlier.


    For some reason, it seemed to be a popr spot for private conversations.


    Or, in this case, a private confrontation.


    I turned the corner and spotted them both, Yvaine stiff as steel, Alexis standing in her way like a smug doorman.


    It took me two seconds to figure out what was going on.


    I walked straight over and stopped next to Yvaine.


    My heels scuffed the edge of Alexis¡¯s gown, which was an ident, but not one I regretted.


    ¡®Let¡¯s go,¡¯ I said to my friend.


    ¡®Miss Carlisle and I are not done talking,¡¯ Alexis said.


    ¡®Talking?¡¯ I sniffed the air, which reeked of passive aggressive vibe. ¡®Or threatening?¡¯


    Alexis gave me a dismissive once-over. ¡®Fine. Yes, consider it a warning. I hope Yvaine¡¯s smart enough not to screw with someone else¡¯s marriage. She wouldn¡¯t want to be called a homewrecker, would she?¡¯


    ¡®You and Cassian are married?¡¯


    ¡®Not yet, but it¡¯s a done deal.¡¯


    ¡®Did Cassian know you wereing to do this?¡¯


    She smiledcently. ¡®No. He wouldn¡¯t like it. And I don¡¯t n on telling him either. Unless you two want to run off and tattle?¡¯


    ¡®So you came here behind his back, hoping we¡¯d just keep our mouths shut?¡¯ I tilted my head. ¡®You think we¡¯re that fucking polite?¡¯


    Alexis just kept smiling. ¡®Yvaine¡¯s a Carlisle. I¡¯d imagine she¡¯s too well-bred to be sneaky.¡¯


    Yvaine snorted. ¡®Says the woman who crept over here like a cockroach and started a fight she can¡¯t finish. Who¡¯s being sneaky?¡¯


    Alexis just shrugged.


    Girls like her were the hardest to deal with, too polished to crack, too pleased with themselves to care.


    I nced at the far corner of the balcony and raised my voice just enough for it to carry.


    ¡®I¡¯m guessing Cassian never wanted to marry you in the first ce. You and your precious family just wouldn¡¯t let go. You¡¯re insecure. That¡¯s why youe here to warn Yvaine off.¡¯


    Alexis¡¯s smile started peeling off her face in slowyers.


    Still, she didn¡¯tsh out.


    ¡®Cassian¡¯s best off with me. You really think he¡¯d choose Yvaine Carlisle?¡¯ she said calmly. ¡®We¡¯re announcing the engagement next week.¡¯


    Footsteps approached from behind her.


    Cassian stepped into view.


    His eyes scanned the three of us like he¡¯d walked into a crime scene.


    ¡®What the hell¡¯s going on?¡¯


    Before Alexis could twist the narrative into another lie, I stepped in. ¡®Miss Rivera chased Yvaine out here to warn her off you.¡¯


    Yvaine folded her arms and red at her ex-boyfriend. ¡®I¡¯d love to know what gave Miss Rivera the impression I¡¯ve been clinging to you. Maybe now¡¯s a good time to clear that up?¡¯


    Cassian turned to Alexis, frowning hard. ¡®Is that true?¡¯


    For a split second, she looked rattled. Then she reset, face softening like butter under amp.


    ¡®I didn¡¯t say anything like that. We were just chatting. I might¡¯ve said something that came out wrong, but it wasn¡¯t serious. You know how things can get misinterpreted. You believe me, don¡¯t you?¡¯


    He hesitated.


    Then he nodded.


    ¡®I believe you.¡¯


    Alexis blinked sweetly, as if that settled it.


    ¡®I didn¡¯t mean any harm. They must¡¯ve misunderstood.¡¯


    She stepped in and slid her arm around his.


    ¡®Let¡¯s go.¡¯


    ¡®Not so fast.¡¯

 Chapter 162 - 163 Sticky Situation

    <h4>Chapter 162: Chapter 163 Sticky Situation</h4>


    I blocked their path.


    ¡®Shame there aren¡¯t any cameras out here. Otherwise, everyone would¡¯ve seen exactly how shameless you are. You really think both of us just hallucinated the same scene?¡¯


    Alexis kept smiling.


    ¡®You¡¯re reading too much into it, Miss Vance.¡¯


    Her voice was soft, sugary.


    I wanted to throw her into the hedge.


    I nced at Yvaine.


    She hadn¡¯t moved.


    Her lips pressed together, hands clenched, shoulders rigid.


    I turned to the cause of all this trouble.


    ¡®You¡¯ve known us long enough. You know who we are. You think Yvaine and I just cooked up a lie for fun? You think we¡¯re that petty?¡¯


    Cassian¡¯s eyes dropped to the ground.


    Then he finally said, ¡®I don¡¯t think you¡¯d lie, but, like Alexis said, maybe it¡¯s just a misunderstanding.¡¯


    Yvaine looked up so fast her hair shifted.


    Then she blinked, shut her eyes, and looked away again.


    He could¡¯ve stabbed her and it wouldn¡¯t have cut deeper.


    Alexis noticed.


    Her lip curled slightly. ¡®Exactly. Seems like a misunderstanding. We¡¯ll leave you to it.¡¯


    She turned, tugging at his arm.


    I stepped in front of them.


    ¡®Hold on. You¡¯re not walking off without exining yourself. Or apologising.¡¯


    Alexis halted, let out a loud sigh.


    ¡®If you insist, Miss Vance, if an apology will make you happy... fine. I¡¯ll apologise. Let¡¯s just say it¡¯s my fault. I¡¯m sorry.¡¯


    Cassian frowned. ¡®What¡¯d you make her apologise for? She did nothing wrong.¡¯


    ¡®She called Yvaine a homewrecker, used her of trying to sabotage your marriage, which, by the way, isn¡¯t even a thing yet.¡¯


    Cassian looked at Alexis, then at Yvaine, then at me.


    ¡®You don¡¯t believe me?¡¯ I saw the doubt in his eyes.


    Alexis mumbled, ¡®I said no such thing. Miss Vance, you must¡¯ve misheard.¡¯


    ¡®Then why did you apologise?¡¯


    ¡®Because nothing else seemed to make you happy.¡¯


    ¡®So I¡¯m the bully now?¡¯


    She turned to Cassian, lips trembling on cue. ¡®Cas, Miss Vance is just putting words in my mouth.¡¯


    Yvaine spoke up. ¡®It¡¯s true. She did say those things. Mira didn¡¯t lie.¡¯


    Cassian, caught between his ex and his current girlfriend, chose thetter.


    ¡®I believe you.¡¯ He patted Alexis¡¯s arm. Then to Yvaine: ¡®Forget it. We¡¯re leaving.¡¯


    Throwing an arm around Alexis¡¯s waist, he turned¡ª


    Then froze.


    Two shadows peeled out of the corner near the balcony, tall and motionless in identical ck suits.


    The lights behind them cast their faces in partial darkness, but I knew those silhouettes before they stepped fully into view.


    Neither said a word.


    Ashton¡¯s stare was cold and dry.


    Emmett¡¯s was heavier, tighter around the jaw, darker under the eyes, which had a murderous glint.


    He stepped forward.


    ¡®It¡¯s my cousin¡¯s wedding,¡¯ he said. ¡®And you brought someone in here to humiliate my sister. Are you sure this is the bridge you want to burn, Cassian?¡¯


    Cassian flinched. ¡®I didn¡¯te here to pick a fight.¡¯


    Emmett tilted his chin at Alexis. ¡®You don¡¯t think this qualifies?¡¯


    ¡®Of course it doesn¡¯t!¡¯


    Emmett said nothing. Just stared.


    The silence was like wet cement.


    Cassian turned to Alexis and bent closer, lowering his voice. ¡®What the hell happened? What did you say to them?¡¯


    ¡®I didn¡¯t say anything!¡¯ She was adamant. ¡®Not a single rude word.¡¯


    He stared at her for half a second, then gave up trying to get the full story.


    Emmett looked ready to put someone through a wall.


    Cassian just wanted it over with.


    ¡®Apologise. Properly.¡¯


    Alexis shook her head.


    Her eyes started to shine like she was about to cry.


    ¡®You¡¯re making me apologise in front of everyone? You don¡¯t believe me?¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s not about that,¡¯ he snapped. ¡®Just apologise. We¡¯ll talkter. Get on with it.¡¯


    She bit down on her lower lip and gave him a look like he¡¯d just kicked her dog.


    He ignored it.


    After a few seconds of petnt silence, she finally turned towards me and Yvaine.


    ¡®Fine. I¡¯ll apologise. It¡¯s two against one, so whatever you say must be true. I said some things I shouldn¡¯t have. I shouldn¡¯t havee here to confront Yvaine. If it upset you, then I¡¯m sorry.¡¯


    She paused like she was waiting for someone to p.


    Then she added, ¡®Is that good enough? Will you forgive me now?¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t act like we¡¯re forcing you to kneel on ss,¡¯ I said. ¡®I can see it¡¯s killing you to say any of that, but the truth is you should¡¯ve apologised without being told. You know damn well we didn¡¯t do a thing to you.¡¯


    She gave a little nod. ¡®I understand.¡¯


    A momentter, Cassian spoke up. ¡®Alexis apologised. Can we go now?¡¯


    He stepped forward to leave, but Emmett blocked him.


    ¡®Last warning,¡¯ he said tly. ¡®Stay away from my sister. You show up again, try to stir anything else up, I won¡¯t just use words next time.¡¯


    Cassian¡¯s mouth tightened. ¡®I didn¡¯te here to start anything. It¡¯s Rachel¡¯s wedding. I got an invite. I¡¯m representing the Langfords. What was I supposed to do, ignore it?¡¯


    Emmett narrowed his eyes. ¡®You know exactly what I mean.¡¯


    Then he turned to Alexis. ¡®The Rivera family¡¯spany is in trouble. This engagement¡¯s a business move, isn¡¯t it? You¡¯d think that¡¯d be reason enough to stay in line.¡¯


    ¡®I...¡¯ Alexis began.


    ¡®The Langfords might pull yourpany out of the hole,¡¯ Emmett steamrolled over her words. ¡®I can just as easily drop you into a deeper one. Think that through.¡¯


    Alexis licked her lips and gave a small nod, trying to lookposed.


    She failed.


    Emmett wasn¡¯t done.


    ¡®Yvaine is my sister. Not Cassian¡¯s ex. You need to understand exactly who she is. If you¡¯re going to start something, you¡¯d better be damn sure you and your family can handle the consequences.¡¯


    I resisted the urge to p.


    Alexis managed to mutter, eyes down, voice t. ¡®Understood.¡¯


    Cassian cut in, ¡®Alright. It was a misunderstanding. It¡¯s sorted now. Let¡¯s go.¡¯


    It was Ashton who stopped him this time.


    ¡®She apologised. You haven¡¯t.¡¯

 Chapter 163 - 164 Apologies All Around

    <h4>Chapter 163: Chapter 164 Apologies All Around</h4>


    Cassian blinked. ¡®Me?¡¯


    He actually pointed to himself, like Ashton had mistaken him for someone else.


    ¡®I wasn¡¯t even here when they started fighting. I¡¯ve no clue what was said. What the hell am I apologising for?¡¯


    Ashton looked at me. ¡®You yelled at Mirabelle. I heard you.¡¯


    Cassian scoffed. He stared at Ashton like he¡¯d lost his mind.


    ¡®You¡¯re joking, right? I barely said three words. That¡¯s ¡°yelling¡± now?¡¯ He swung his hand toward me. ¡®Her tone was worse than mine. Did she apologise to me? No. But I¡¯m the one out of line?¡¯


    Ashton shrugged. ¡®Didn¡¯t hear her.¡¯


    Then he nced at Emmett, who nodded. ¡®I didn¡¯t either.¡¯


    Cassian looked between the two of them like they¡¯d grown matching horns.


    His face went red from the neck up.


    ¡®You¡¯ve got to be kidding me. Selective fucking hearing? You hear me loud and clear but nothing from her? Alright. Fine. You want an apology? Here it is¡ª¡¯ He snapped his head towards me. ¡®Sorry. Happy now?¡¯


    He looked like he wanted to put his fist through something.


    Definitely not sorry.


    He fixed me with a re, breathing hard. ¡®That good enough for you?¡¯


    I rolled my eyes as a reply.


    He turned like he was about to stalk off again.


    ¡®Hold on,¡¯ I called. ¡®You haven¡¯t apologised to Yvaine yet.¡¯


    He froze.


    For a second, I thought he was about to keel over.


    He yanked at his tie like it was choking him.


    One of his shirt buttons shot off and pinged across the floor.


    ¡®You¡¯ve got to be fucking kidding me. What am I even apologising for now? I didn¡¯t say a single thing to her.¡¯


    ¡®You took sides. You knew who started it, and you still backed Alexis. By that, you implied Yvaine and I lied.¡¯


    Cassian exhaled hard through his nose.


    The muscle under his cheek bunched like he was chewing ss.


    We all stood there, forming a hostile circle around him.


    ¡®Fine!¡¯ He turned to Yvaine, arms flung wide. ¡®I¡¯m sorry, alright? Happy now?¡¯


    He pointed at Ashton, then Emmett.


    ¡®You two want one too? Go on, take a number. Sorry, Ashton. Sorry, Emmett. All of this? Totally my fault. What a fucking disaster I am.¡¯


    He was shouting now.


    Ashton barely looked at him. ¡®We¡¯re good. Get out.¡¯


    Cassian spun around and left.


    Alexis trailed after him, heels tapping fast against the tiles.


    The second they were gone, the air changed.


    Everyone exhaled.


    I turned straight to Yvaine.


    ¡®Are you alright?¡¯ I grabbed her arm and checked her over, still unconvinced Alexis hadn¡¯t done something while I was out of earshot.


    ¡®I¡¯m fine,¡¯ she said calmly. ¡®She just ran her mouth a bit. Nothing serious. I didn¡¯t let it get to me.¡¯


    ¡®Good.¡¯


    Emmett stepped closer. ¡®Thanks.¡¯ For sticking up for Yvaine earlier.


    I shrugged. ¡®Don¡¯t mention it.¡¯


    He gave me a nod, then started walking.


    Yvaine trailed after him.


    She looked over her shoulder at me with a grin. ¡®He¡¯s still pissed. I¡¯m gonna go check he doesn¡¯t punch a tree or something.¡¯


    Once they were gone, Ashton and I headed back into the ballroom.


    The wedding was long over.


    Most of the chairs were empty now, a few guests still loitering by the dessert table or packing up their things.


    We stepped outside together.


    The cold hit straight away.


    My arms broke out in goosebumps and I jerked back from the wind.


    ¡®Jesus. Is it snowing?¡¯ I rubbed my arms. ¡®Why is it this cold?¡¯


    Ashton pulled a scarf out from under his coat¡ªno idea where he¡¯d stashed it¡ªand looped it around my neck.


    The wool was thick and still warm from his body heat.


    ¡®Don¡¯t catch a cold,¡¯ he muttered. ¡®I¡¯ve got to stop by the office. I¡¯ll drop you off on the way.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ve got my car. I¡¯ll drive back to the studio.¡¯


    ¡®Alright. Drive safe. Dinner tonight?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah. Text me.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t make it to dinner.


    Just after seven, Ashton messaged to say something hade up.


    Work dinner, or somest-minute stuff.


    He told me not to wait.


    I ate alone on the sofa, half-watching two episodes of a crime show I didn¡¯t care about.


    Just before ten, I got up to turn in.


    That¡¯s when my phone buzzed.


    Riley.


    We hadn¡¯t spoken since that time Yvaine dragged me to her new bar for theunch.


    Her name lighting up my phone at this hour only meant one thing.


    I answered before the second ring.


    ¡®Mira, thank god. Yvaine¡¯s here. She¡¯s drunk. Like, properly hammered. I can¡¯t leave the bar¡ªI¡¯ve got people waiting on deliveries and my manager¡¯s off tonight. Can youe get her? I don¡¯t wanna call Emmett. He¡¯ll lose it.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m on my way.¡¯


    I hung up, yanked off my pyjamas, and threw on the first jumper I could find.


    Five minutester, I was in the car, heading downtown.


    Riley had someone waiting outside the bar when I pulled up.


    A young guy in a ck shirt with too much hair gel waved me in and led me through a side corridor.


    The private room looked empty from the hallway. No lights, no sound.


    ¡®This the right¡ª?¡¯


    Before I could finish, the server flicked on the overheads.


    Yvaine was curled up in the corner of a velvet sofa, hugging a half-empty bottle of something amber.


    Her boots were still on, legs sprawled over the cushion.


    One strap of her dress had slipped off her shoulder.


    The air smelled like spilt tequ, dried limes, and perfume that had lost its charm an hour ago.


    I turned the lights down low and crossed the room.


    Dozens of bottles were scattered around her, some standing, most rolling near the edge of the coffee table.


    I crouched down and nudged her upright.


    Her head lolled forward.


    I tapped her cheek.


    ¡®Come on. Let¡¯s get you home. Can you open your eyes?¡¯


    Her skin burned under my fingers.


    Hershes twitched a few times before she cracked one eye open and blinked hard.


    ¡®Mira?¡¯ she slurred. ¡®Why¡¯re there two of you?¡¯


    ¡®Because you¡¯re smashed. I¡¯m taking you home.¡¯


    ¡®No! I¡¯m not leaving!¡¯ She jerked up and lunged for the table. ¡®Still drinking!¡¯


    I caught her wrist and pulled the ss out of reach. ¡®You¡¯re done. That¡¯s it.¡¯


    She tried to grab it back, twice, then gave up and went limp.


    A secondter, she started crying.

 Chapter 164 - 165 Family Dinner

    <h4>Chapter 164: Chapter 165 Family Dinner</h4>


    ¡®Cassian Langford, you fucking arsehole,¡¯ Yvaine howled. ¡®You think I¡¯m just some toy you can toss out?¡¯


    The crying got louder.


    Her words turned to noise.


    She¡¯d been smiling when we left the wedding.


    Now she was here, alone, red-faced and shaking, drunk enough to copse in a pitch-ck bar.


    I swallowed the sting in my throat, sat beside her, and stayed quiet.


    She screamed, sobbed, cursed his name over and over again, and I didn¡¯t interrupt.


    More than ten minutester, Yvaine finally ran out of steam.


    Her voice cracked and gave out mid-curse, and she slumped sideways against the cushions, passed out cold.


    I called for the server.


    Between the two of us, we hauled her into the back seat of my car.


    I ordered a driver and climbed in beside her, gave the guy her address, and told him to keep the heating low; she always overheated when she drank.


    By the time we got to her house, her head was on my shoulder and her eyeliner had transferred to my sleeve.


    Getting her up the stairs was a bloody workout.


    I managed to get her onto the bed without knocking over themp.


    I sat down on the floor, catching my breath.


    My back was damp under my jumper.


    My phone rang.


    ¡®Where¡¯d you go?¡¯ Ashton said. ¡®You¡¯re not home.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m with Yvaine. She got wrecked. I¡¯m staying here tonight.¡¯


    I filled him in quickly and hung up.


    A minuteter, my phone lit up again.


    Unknown number.


    I stared at the screen. Figured it was Rhys calling from a new line. Ignored it.


    I stood up, headed for the kitchen to grab some water.


    The phone buzzed again. Same number.


    I stepped into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind me before answering.


    ¡®Hello?¡¯


    I expected Rhys. What I got was a woman¡¯s voice.


    ¡®Hi, this is Gwendolyn Laurent.¡¯


    Huh, that was unexpected.


    Gwendolyn was Ashton¡¯s father¡¯s wife, technically his stepmother.


    I¡¯d met her once.


    I had no idea why she¡¯d be calling me.


    ¡®Hello,¡¯ I said, trying to sound normal.


    ¡®Ah, Mirabelle!¡¯ Her voice was warm, unnaturally so. ¡®I know it¡¯s a bitte to be calling, but I wanted to get it done before I forget. Bit of a scatterbrain, you know.¡¯


    Sheughed.


    I didn¡¯t. I was trying to remember when I¡¯d given her my number.


    ¡®Anyway, since you and Ashton have been married a while now, maybe it¡¯s time we all sat down for a proper family dinner.¡¯


    Last time I¡¯d visited the Laurents, Ashton hadn¡¯t looked thrilled to be there.


    Gwendolyn kept talking.


    ¡®Ashton¡¯s never been close to me. I got used to it. But his grandfather¡¯s health has gone downhill, and no matter how many times we¡¯ve called, he won¡¯te home. His father misses him. Edouard too. It¡¯s been so long.¡¯


    I understood what she was getting at.


    ¡®If you want him toe for dinner, I can try bringing it up. But whether he agrees or not¡¯s not up to me.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t bring it up yet,¡¯ she said quickly. ¡®If we ask him directly, he¡¯ll say no. He always says no. Thinks it¡¯s pointless.¡¯


    She paused.


    ¡®Tomorrow¡¯s the winter solstice. It¡¯s also his birthday. I thought maybe we could use that as an excuse. Celebrate. Sit down together. Get things back on track.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s his birthday tomorrow?¡¯


    I said it out loud before I caught myself.


    ¡®Yes, it is. He doesn¡¯t like birthdays. Or maybe he just doesn¡¯t like celebrating them with me.¡¯


    She gave a self-deprecatingugh.


    ¡®He¡¯s always kept us at arm¡¯s length. I¡¯ve never been able to fix that. But tomorrow¡¯s a family day. We¡¯re getting older, Mirabelle, me and his father and grandfather. We¡¯re not after anything. We just want peace at the table. That¡¯s all.¡¯


    I kept quiet.


    I didn¡¯t know the full story.


    I knew his mother died when he was young.


    I knew he got pulled into the Laurent household after that, as the bastard son.


    It wouldn¡¯t have been easy.


    Last time we¡¯d been at the Laurent estate, I could tell he barely tolerated Gwendolyn.


    But now that he ran LGH, the whole family treated him with respect¡ªno, with awe.


    ¡®I got it,¡¯ I said. ¡®I¡¯ll ask if he¡¯s open to doing something for his birthday.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t ask him outright.¡¯ Gwendolyn¡¯s voice sharpened. ¡®Juste over tomorrow. Help set things up. Once everything¡¯s ready, then call him. Say it¡¯s a surprise. He¡¯ll listen to you. You¡¯re practically family. One meal together¡ªhe might finally let his guard down.¡¯


    I hesitated. ¡®Fine.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t think she meant Ashton harm.


    Maybe she didn¡¯t even like him much, but she wasn¡¯t stupid enough to cross him.


    Besides, he¡¯d gone all out for mine.


    The Nyx stock, the fireworks, the cake.


    I wanted to return the effort.


    After I hung up, I went downstairs for water.


    While the ss filled, I tried to think of a gift.


    Nothing came to mind.


    I brought the ss back up just as Yvaine started mumbling about being thirsty.


    I held it to her mouth.


    She drank with her eyes half-closed, then knocked out again right after.


    I dropped onto the short velvet couch by the bed.


    She slept through the night without another word.


    In the morning, Yvaine woke before I did.


    Her voice was dry but steady.


    She said she didn¡¯t remember anything after arriving at Riley¡¯s bar.


    Just remembered ordering way too many drinks.


    She looked fine.


    Pale, but upright.


    I stopped worrying.


    Yvaine promised¡ªtwice, then a third time¡ªthat she wouldn¡¯t go drinking alone again.


    I left once I believed she meant it.


    I headed straight to the mall, circled every floor, and didn¡¯t settle until I found a watch that might be to Ashton¡¯s liking.


    Sleek face, dark leather strap, no pretentious logos.


    It felt like something he would actually wear.


    Then I spent the whole morning and afternoon working on the improvements.


    I switched out the in buckle for a brushed steel sp engraved with his initials.


    Then I traced the inner side of the strap with a hidden iy of ck gold foil, visible only when he took it off.


    The final touch: I reced the crown with a custom-cut obsidian cabochon, low profile but cool to the touch.


    No one else would notice, but he would.


    Once I had the gift wrapped, I drove out to the Laurents¡¯ estate.

 Chapter 165 - 166 Nasty Surprise

    <h4>Chapter 165: Chapter 166 Nasty Surprise</h4>


    Gwendolyn was already waiting by the door.


    Her voice shot out before I even hit thest step. ¡®Mirabelle! Come in,e in. It¡¯s freezing out here.¡¯


    Technically, she was my mother-inw. Kind of.


    I didn¡¯t like her much, but she hadn¡¯t done anything outrageous yet, and I wasn¡¯t about to start a war over guesswork.


    Plus, she was probably still traumatised from how much she spent thest time we met.


    ¡®I¡¯d cleaned Ashton¡¯s old room for you to stay the night.¡¯ She beamed at me.


    I gave her a vague smile and mumbled something nomittal while pretending I hadn¡¯t heard.


    The staff had strung up a few lights in the sitting room.


    There were balloons, cake boxes stacked on the sideboard, and a faint smell of polish and vani.


    Once everything was set, I texted Ashton: [I¡¯m at the Laurent estate. Come for dinner tonight.]


    He called before I even put the phone down.


    ¡®Where are you?¡¯ His voice was low, tight.


    I could hear the drag of his breathing like he was trying not to snap.


    ¡®Gwendolyn invited me,¡¯ I said. ¡®She said it¡¯s your birthday. We wanted to¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Birthday,¡¯ he cut in. Said it slow. Like it tasted off.


    I could picture his face just from the silence¡ªset jaw, narrowed eyes, that nk look he used when he was holding something in with both hands.


    He really hated birthdays?


    I thought he was like me¡ªjust didn¡¯t care for them.


    I figured if someone remembered, he¡¯d be quietly pleased.


    Apparently not.


    My chest tightened. I cleared my throat. ¡®What¡¯s wrong?¡¯


    He didn¡¯t answer.


    The line was dead quiet.


    I nced down to check if the call had ended.


    It hadn¡¯t.


    Finally, a sharp breath hit the speaker, followed by his voice, low and t. ¡®I¡¯ll be there soon.¡¯


    He hung up.


    I stood still for a second, phone still in my hand.


    Something was off.


    That tone wasn¡¯t annoyed.


    It was worse.


    I headed for the kitchen, but before I reached it, Edouard came down the staircase.


    He nced at the cake box on the side table. ¡®Whose birthday is it?¡¯


    He looked around, then stared straight at me. His voice sharpened. ¡®You¡¯re throwing a party for Ashton?¡¯


    Gwendolyn came out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a linen towel. ¡®Of course. It¡¯s his birthday. We¡¯ll sit down as a family. You haven¡¯t seen him in ages.¡¯


    Edouard stopped midway down the steps. His shoulders stiffened. ¡®Did he agree to this?¡¯


    Gwendolyn gave me a cheery nce. ¡®Mirabelle¡¯s here. He¡¯lle. He¡¯s not a child anymore. It¡¯s just dinner. What¡¯s he going to object to?¡¯


    Edouard followed her gaze and locked onto me. His expression dropped. He didn¡¯t bother hiding it.


    ¡®Fine. Do what you want,¡¯ he muttered. ¡®The two of you sneak off to get married and can¡¯t be bothered to visit. No manners whatsoever. Now you sneak back here and n an ambush...¡¯


    He shook his head.


    I kept my mouth shut. I¡¯d nned to greet him politely. That n died quickly.


    I reminded myself he was Ashton¡¯s grandfather.


    But Edouard¡¯s reaction had given something away.


    Ashton must¡¯ve seriously hated birthdays, to the point his own family tiptoed around it.


    Edouard hadn¡¯t asked if he wasing. He¡¯d asked if Ashton had ¡®agreed¡¯. Like it was a loaded question.


    Something bad had happened once.


    I didn¡¯t know what, but it had left a mark on all of them.


    They were twitchy.


    I looked at Gwendolyn.


    She was still smiling.


    I stared at her a second longer.


    That fake sweetness was starting to curdle.


    Reginald was here too.


    Earlier, he¡¯d been polite enough, offered me tea, asked about my work.


    But the longer I stood there, the more it felt like they¡¯d used me to drag Ashton into something he¡¯d never have agreed to on his own.


    Before I could decide whether to confront her or just walk out, the front door burst open.


    ¡®I¡¯m home!¡¯


    Den stepped in, yanking off a heavy coat and tossing it at the housekeeper without looking.


    Last time I¡¯d seen him, he¡¯d had short ck hair.


    Now it was bright copper, long on top and shoved back like he¡¯d styled it with his hands and no mirror.


    His eyesnded on me immediately.


    ¡®Well, shit, look who it is¡ªMira the sister-inw. Didn¡¯t know you wereing. Wait¡ªAshton¡¯s back today?¡¯


    He nced around. No Ashton.


    Then he spotted the cake on the table. His whole face changed.


    ¡®No. No. You¡¯re not serious.¡¯


    He pointed at the cake. ¡®Tell me you didn¡¯t. You didn¡¯t try to throw him a birthday thing. Are you out of your minds? You want him to go nuclear?¡¯


    He looked around like he expected Ashton to appear swinging.


    He red at me. ¡®What is wrong with you? I thought you were the sensible one. Why push it? You think he won¡¯t lose it over this? You think he won¡¯t walk straight into court and file for divorce?¡¯


    Damn it, I¡¯d definitely walked into a trap.


    ¡®What¡¯s the deal? Why can¡¯t he have a birthday? What happened?¡¯


    He narrowed his eyes and stepped in closer. ¡®You seriously don¡¯t know?¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯


    He let out a breath, half a sigh, half disbelief.


    Just as he opened his mouth to answer, the housekeeper¡¯s voice cut in from the hallway.


    ¡®Mr Ashton is back.¡¯


    Everyone turned.


    Ashton walked in fast, coat still on. ck wool, double-breasted, shoulders stiff.


    His expression was t and hard, jaw set, lips tight.


    I¡¯d never seen him look like that before.


    It felt colder with him in the room.


    No one spoke.


    The only sound was his footsteps crossing the polished floor.


    Gwendolyn moved first, a little too quickly. ¡®You¡¯re home. Dinner¡¯s ready,e sit. Let¡¯s eat first.¡¯


    She tried to guide him towards the table.


    Edouard and Reginald were already seated, hands folded, pretending nothing was wrong.


    Den and I stayed where we were.


    Ashton stopped in front of the cake.


    He stared at it, motionless.


    Then his gaze swept across the room, beforending on me.


    His eyes didn¡¯t warm. They stayed fixed, unreadable, cold.


    My chest tightened.


    He got to me before I could speak.


    Ashton grabbed my arm, yanked me behind him, then flipped the entire table with one hand.

 Chapter 166 - 167 Shitstorm

    <h4>Chapter 166: Chapter 167 Shitstorm</h4>


    The crash thundered through the dining room.


    tes shattered, cutlery ttered, wine sses burst.


    The cakended face-down on the floor, half-covered by the tablecloth, mashed t under its own weight.


    Someone screamed¡ªGwendolyn, I think.


    A maid shouted something.


    The others shouted too.


    Reginald caught a flying fork to the shoulder.


    Edouard took a ceramic te to the chest.


    ss nicked Reginald¡¯s hand¡ªa thin red line down the knuckle.


    He bolted over to Edouard and caught his chair before it tipped.


    Chairs scraped, servants rushed forward.


    Someone started shouting for heart pills.


    The whole ce fell apart in under ten seconds.


    Even Den got hit in the face with a spoon.


    Only I came out untouched.


    Ashton had dragged me clear before he lost it.


    He turned to me. ¡®Why the hell are you here?¡¯


    My mouth opened, but nothing came out.


    His face was inches from mine, eyes locked, fists still clenched.


    Gwendolyn stepped in before I could find words. ¡®I invited her. I thought we could have dinner like normal people for once. Is that a fucking crime?¡¯


    He turned on her. ¡®Do you even remember what today is?¡¯


    She blinked, thrown. ¡®It¡¯s your birthday. We¡¯re family, Ashton. What¡¯s wrong with sitting down to eat like one? I haven¡¯t seen Mirabelle since Edouard¡¯s birthday party. Can¡¯t I try to reconnect?¡¯


    Ashton yanked his tie loose and muttered something under his breath. Then louder: ¡®Must be nice living thisfortably. You¡¯ve got so much time on your hands, you¡¯re picking fights just to feel something.¡¯


    Gwendolyn¡¯s voice jumped in. ¡®There¡¯s no need for that tone¡ª¡¯


    While they kept snapping at each other, Den slipped up next to me and leaned in.


    ¡®She tricked you intoing, didn¡¯t she?¡¯


    I nodded.


    He gave a low whistle. ¡®You¡¯re screwed. She dragged you straight into a shitstorm. Do you even know what day it is?¡¯


    ¡®His birthday?¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s also the day his mum died.¡¯


    I stared at him. ¡®You¡¯re joking.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not. She died on his birthday. That¡¯s why he never celebrates it. I don¡¯t know what the hell they were thinking, throwing a dinner tonight. If he snaps, I¡¯m not getting dragged down with you. I should¡¯ve stayed in Mn.¡¯


    He edged sideways like Ashton might lunge at him next.


    I stood there, stomach turning.


    I hadn¡¯t known.


    No one had told me.


    Gwendolyn just said it was a family dinner.


    She¡¯d sounded so normal about it.


    I looked over at Ashton.


    All I could see was his side profile, hard as granite.


    I wanted to p myself.


    Gwendolyn kept talking. ¡®I didn¡¯t mean any harm. We went out of our way for your birthday. That cake was custom-made. Mirabelle wanted to be here. She wanted to eat with us¡ª¡¯


    ¡®No, I didn¡¯t,¡¯ I cut in. ¡®You lied to me.¡¯


    She spun to face me. ¡®I didn¡¯t lie. I asked you to dinner. That¡¯s not a lie.¡¯


    ¡®You left out everything that mattered. That counts.¡¯


    I red at Gwendolyn.


    Whatever guilt I¡¯d felt towards Ashton burned straight through into rage.


    I¡¯d thought their rtionship was tense but tolerable.


    Now I saw I¡¯d been stupid.


    I turned to Ashton. ¡®I didn¡¯t know, I swear. I wouldn¡¯t havee if I¡¯d known. I¡¯m not part of whatever game she¡¯s ying.¡¯


    Words felt useless at this moment.


    ¡®I never lied to you!¡¯ Gwendolyn said. ¡®I just said it was his birthday and you showed up right away. How¡¯s that my fault? None of us meant any harm¡ª¡¯


    Ashton moved suddenly, drove his foot into the leg of a nearby chair, and sent it flying.


    It crashed across the room, straight at her.


    She screamed and threw herself sideways.


    The chair hit the wall behind her andnded on its side, one leg splintered.


    She pressed against the bar cart, breathing hard, eyes wide.


    Reginald stormed across the room and helped her upright. ¡®What the fuck is wrong with you? It¡¯s your birthday. So what if we forgot it was¡ªYou think we¡¯d hurt you on purpose? Grow the fuck up!¡¯


    Ashton kicked another chair. Harder this time.


    The back leg caught Reginald¡¯s shin with a loud crack.


    ¡®Shit!¡¯ Reginald dropped to one knee, gripping his leg. ¡®You trying to kill us now?¡¯


    He staggered upright and limped to the nearest sofa.


    Gwendolyn rushed after him, muttering something under her breath.


    Ashton¡¯s back was tense.


    His shoulders barely moved when he breathed.


    I stood behind him, close enough to hear how uneven that breath had gotten.


    I reached out without thinking and grabbed his hand.


    The second my palm touched his, he gripped back, tight enough to make me wince.


    I felt it. Every ounce of control he was losing, pushed into my hand.


    That grip told me he didn¡¯t think I was part of their bullshit.


    I squeezed back.


    My fingers ached, but I didn¡¯t let go.


    He kept holding. Long enough that I felt the tension in his arm start to ease.


    His chest stopped jerking with every breath.


    When he looked up again, his face was cold but no longer homicidal.


    Then he let go.


    He scanned the room slowly.


    ¡®You¡¯ve all had it too easy for too long. That¡¯s your problem. You thought it¡¯d be funny to drag her into this? You thought you could make her part of your little circus? Just to get a rise out of me?¡¯


    He turned to me. ¡®When did they contact you?¡¯


    ¡®Last night.¡¯


    He nodded slowly.


    ¡®That dinner with the Lauders. You arranged it, didn¡¯t you? To get me out of the house so you could call her without me knowing. Set this whole thing up behind my back.¡¯


    Reginald avoided Ashton¡¯s stare, eyes flicking sideways, mouth shut.


    Which was as good as admitting it.


    Ashton stepped forward.


    ¡®You¡¯ve got some fucking nerve. Living in my house, eating my food, plotting behind my back. Getting too cosy now? Want me to throw you all out, see how long youst under a bridge?¡¯

 Chapter 167 - 168 Parasites

    <h4>Chapter 167: Chapter 168 Parasites</h4>


    Edouard let out a wheeze and sat upright.


    His hands shook as he hauled himself up with that polished ck cane.


    ¡®Where do you get off talking like that?¡¯ he barked. ¡®What do you mean your house, your food? LGH and this vi were built off my back.¡¯


    Ashton gave a shortugh.


    He looked down at Edouard like he was some washed-up street performer shouting in the park.


    ¡®You¡¯ve got a bloody imagination on you. Without me, LGH would¡¯ve copsed two years ago. This ce would¡¯ve been repossessed. You¡¯d be out on your arse. The only reason you¡¯re sitting here with heating and a functioning liver is me. You think your pension covered those hospital bills? You¡¯d be dead by now.¡¯


    Edouard mmed his cane against the marble twice.


    ¡®You listen to yourself. What kind of lunatic talks to their grandfather like this? Do you even see me as family?¡¯


    ¡®No,¡¯ Ashton said inly. ¡®You¡¯re just another parasite. You all are. I don¡¯t owe you anything. And if I hear you¡¯ve stirred up more shit, you won¡¯t live to see spring.¡¯


    Edouard staggered.


    His cane slipped.


    He dropped back onto the couch, chest heaving, colour draining fast.


    ¡®You¡¯ve gone mad,¡¯ he gasped. ¡®Completely unhinged¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Then maybe you should¡¯ve thought twice before pulling this stunt. Actions have consequences.¡¯


    ¡®I¡ª¡¯


    Edouard¡¯s throat bobbed.


    His mouth opened twice, but nothing came out.


    His fingers flexed around the handle of his cane.


    ¡®I didn¡¯t know they were nning anything. If I had, I¡¯d have stopped it.¡¯


    Den shot forward, half-jogging out of the corner like he¡¯d been waiting for a cue.


    ¡®I swear I had nothing to do with it, either! I got here five minutes before you, Ash. I didn¡¯t know shit.¡¯


    Reginald mumbled something behind him. ¡®Neither did I...¡¯


    Gwendolyn turned her head sharply and red at him like she wanted to p the words back into his mouth.


    Then she smiled at Ashton.


    ¡®It was a misunderstanding. Mirabelle didn¡¯t know the date meant anything. She just wanted to surprise you.¡¯


    Ashton turned, slow, until he was facing her directly.


    Her shoulders dropped an inch.


    ¡®You think I¡¯m that fucking gullible? You really think I¡¯d believe you over my wife?¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s not about belief,¡¯ she said quickly. ¡®Neither of us meant any harm. Mirabelle and I were just¡ªjust trying to be kind.¡¯


    ¡®Funny how that sounded like I ran the whole thing. Weren¡¯t you the one who dragged me here in the first ce?¡¯ I stopped in front of her, arms loose at my sides. ¡®You called me up crying about wanting the family to get along. Said it¡¯d just be a quiet dinner. You made it sound like you gave a shit.¡¯


    She licked her lips. Her voice came out breathy. ¡®I didn¡¯t lie. I just said we could all have a meal¡ª¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s enough,¡¯ Ashton cut in. ¡®You knew exactly what you were doing. Try it again, and you won¡¯t be setting foot in this house again.¡¯


    He turned to Reginald. ¡®And you. You¡¯ve been loafing around too long. There¡¯s a site in Namibia that needs bodies. I¡¯ll have HR send your ticket.¡¯


    Reginald shot up from the sofa. ¡®You can¡¯t be serious! I¡¯m your father! You¡¯re sending me to Africa?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re free to resign. But you¡¯ll lose every share, every dividend, and every cent of your payout. Your call.¡¯


    His mouth pped open. Nothing came out.


    Then Ashton looked at Den.


    Den threw up his right hand like he was taking an oath. ¡®I swear on everything, I wasn¡¯t involved. Mum roped in Mirabelle. Not me. Please don¡¯t freeze my cards.¡¯


    Ashton nced back at Edouard.


    ¡®No point wasting breath on you. Just focus on making it through winter.¡¯


    Then he reached for my hand.


    ¡®We¡¯re leaving.¡¯


    We walked out.


    The air outside was damp, cool against my neck.


    He opened the car door.


    I got in.


    So did he.


    But he didn¡¯t start the engine.


    He just sat there, jaw tight, one hand gripping the steering wheel like he was trying not to crush it.


    ¡®I thought things with your family weren¡¯t that bad,¡¯ I said quietly. ¡®Last time, they were polite enough. You said the whole marriage thing was just to keep your grandfather happy and get everyone off your back, so I figured... I just wanted to do something for your birthday.¡¯


    My voice kept dropping, and I couldn¡¯t seem to stop.


    My hands had knotted together in myp, fingers twisting around each other like they had a mind of their own.


    ¡®But that was me being stupid. I wasn¡¯t thinking. I was busy with Yvaine yesterday, and when your stepmum called, I just¡ªmy brain didn¡¯t catch up. I should¡¯ve asked you first. I shouldn¡¯t have gone over on my own. I messed up.¡¯


    I swallowed.


    ¡®It¡¯s my fault. I¡¯m sorry.¡¯


    The car was still.


    No hum from the engine, no light except for the faint silver bleed through the windshield.


    I couldn¡¯t see his expression, just the rigid line of his jaw.


    ¡®I get it if you¡¯re pissed,¡¯ I said, louder this time. ¡®You can yell at me if you want.¡¯


    ¡®Not going to,¡¯ he said, turning his head towards me. ¡®That¡¯s Gwendolyn¡¯s thing. She talks sweet, ys nice, then twists the knife behind your back. You didn¡¯t know. That¡¯s on me. I should¡¯ve warned you what kind of family this is.¡¯


    He shut his eyes for a second, breathing out through his nose.


    ¡®I¡¯m not angry. I just¡ª¡¯ His voice caught. He cleared his throat, but it didn¡¯t help. ¡®My mum died on this day.¡¯


    I looked up.


    The moonlight was catching in the lines of his face, cutting across the shadows from the branches outside.


    He wasn¡¯t crying, but his mouth was tight and his eyes had that t, heavy look I recognised too well.


    Ashton always looked untouchable to me.


    Sharp, controlled, impossible to rattle.


    But right then, I knew better.


    He had pressure points. He bled.


    I leaned over and wrapped my arms around him.


    ¡®Tell me,¡¯ I said against his shoulder. ¡®Only if you want to.¡¯

 Chapter 168 - 169 His Past

    <h4>Chapter 168: Chapter 169 His Past</h4>


    His whole body was stiff, like he didn¡¯t know what to do with contact.


    I ran my hand slowly over his back, palm t, keeping the rhythm steady.


    After a few passes, his shoulders dropped.


    He exhaled, shallow and shaky, and his head lowered until his face was pressed into my neck.


    Then he held on. Hard.


    The car stayed silent.


    There wasn¡¯t even traffic outside.


    Just the faint creak of the leather seats as he shifted closer and locked his arms around me.


    He didn¡¯t speak for a long time.


    When he finally did, his voice was low, paced out like each word needed effort.


    ¡®I moved back in with the Laurents when I was ten. Nobody gave a shit I was there. Gwendolyn acted nice in front of people but told the staff to mess with me behind my back. One time, they sent me up a tree to get Den¡¯s kite. They¡¯d already broken one of the branches. I fell. Hit my back on a rock. The scar¡¯s still there.¡¯


    I kept my hand moving slowly across his back.


    I didn¡¯t know where the scar was, or how bad it had been.


    But I stayed where I was, anchoring him in ce, giving him something solid to hold on to.


    ¡®When I got up off the ground, I saw her. Gwendolyn. She was hiding behind the shed, watching. Smirking. That was when it clicked. All it took was a look. She wanted me stepped on, and they delivered.¡¯


    He pressed his forehead against my corbone.


    ¡®When they sent me overseas, Edouard gave me money. Or he meant to. She intercepted it. Every cent. I would¡¯ve starved if Den hadn¡¯t wired cash behind her back. He didn¡¯t even like me then. He just... didn¡¯t want to be the reason I died.¡¯


    I kept rubbing circles on his back, light and slow, waiting.


    Then I asked, ¡®Tell me about your mum.¡¯


    ¡®She was with Reginald before Gwendolyn came into the picture. They were already involved. But she wasn¡¯t the right pedigree, so he married Gwendolyn. But he kept my mum around for years. Lied to her about leaving Gwendolyn. She believed him.¡¯


    I sensed where the story was going.


    ¡®Gwendolyn came to the house a few times, screaming. Broke a window once. I was maybe five at the time. My mum couldn¡¯t handle it. It got worse year by year. One morning, she was fine. It was my birthday. She made me toast. Waved me off like normal. When I came back that night... she was cold. In bed. Face up. Still in her slippers.¡¯


    He leaned back abruptly, eyes locked on the window.


    My shoulder felt damp.


    I nced down.


    His face gave nothing away, but my jumper was wet.


    For a few minutes, he¡¯d let his guard drop, just enough to lean on me, to fall apart a little.


    Now it was gone again. Packed away without warning.


    ¡®My mum was on medication. Antipsychotics, I think. She was obsessed with Reginald. Wouldn¡¯t hear a word against him. Even when he stopped calling, even when he got engaged, she still waited. When it finally sank in that he was nevering back, something just... snapped. Maybe it started as love, but by the end, she was furious. Only she couldn¡¯t aim it at him, so she turned it on me.¡¯


    He scratched his knuckles, left hand pressing into his thigh.


    ¡®I thought she med me. That I¡¯d ruined her life. I thought she gave up because she couldn¡¯t take care of me anymore. But monthster, I overheard Reginald and Gwendolyn arguing. He was yelling about her going to see my mum. Said it was right before she¡ª¡¯


    He cut off.


    I already knew.


    ¡®Gwendolyn said something to her,¡¯ I said quietly.


    He nodded. ¡®I don¡¯t know what. But it wasn¡¯t kind.¡¯


    My fingers curled into my palm.


    It hadn¡¯t been just petty cruelty.


    Gwendolyn had worked to break him, start to finish.


    She¡¯d kept up her little performance in public, smiling like she gave a damn, acting like she was proud of him.


    She¡¯d made sure everyone saw her as the decent one.


    And I¡¯d fallen for the act.


    While I was silently nning to rip off my own skin, Ashton added, ¡®She always keeps it polished on the surface. Pretends she¡¯s proud of me. But she¡¯s not. She can¡¯t stand me. The second you texted me, I knew she¡¯d set you up. She wanted to rattle me. She just didn¡¯t want to get her hands dirty doing it.¡¯


    The silence stretched.


    I rubbed my thumb along the inside of my wrist and cleared my throat.


    ¡®Now that I know, you don¡¯t need to worry. I¡¯m on your side. Always. I¡¯m not stupid enough to fall for her bullshit again. She can scheme all she wants, won¡¯t make a dent. And for the record, your mum never thought you were a burden. She probably just wanted you to be okay.¡¯


    He gave a quiet hum and reached for my hand.


    His fingers curled around mine.


    Then he nodded at the floor. ¡®What¡¯s that?¡¯


    I followed his gaze.


    The bag was propped against my boots.


    ¡®It was supposed to be a present,¡¯ I muttered.


    When he dragged me out the door earlier, I¡¯d grabbed it on reflex.


    He looked genuinely curious. ¡®What¡¯s in it?¡¯


    I hesitated.


    He hated birthdays.


    The idea of him unwrapping anything remotely celebratory made my stomach tighten.


    Just bringing it up felt cruel.


    But he was waiting.


    So I reached down, pulled the box from the bag, and handed it over.


    ¡®It¡¯s not a birthday present. It¡¯s for the winter solstice.¡¯


    He kept his eyes on me.


    I felt the heat crawl up from the seats, from the space between us, from his hand still resting on mine.


    The cold that had clung to him earlier was gone.


    He flipped the lid and stared at the watch nestled inside.

 Chapter 169 - 170 Give It A Shot

    <h4>Chapter 169: Chapter 170 Give It A Shot</h4>


    ¡®This is good,¡¯ he said.


    That was enough to unclench the tight pull behind my ribs.


    Then he held out his wrist. ¡®Put it on for me?¡¯


    ¡®Sure.¡¯


    He yanked off the one he¡¯d been wearing and chucked it over the dashboard.


    I pinched the new strap between my fingers and fastened it slowly, adjusting the sp so it sat t against his skin.


    His skin was fair.


    The strap was matte ck.


    The contrast was sharp.


    My hand paused just a second longer than it needed to.


    He turned his wrist.


    The second hand ticked forward with a clean, crisp rhythm.


    ¡®I like it,¡¯ he delivered his verdict.


    ¡®Good.¡¯


    My stomach growled. Loud enough to interrupt us both.


    I looked away, embarrassed. ¡®Bit hungry. Let¡¯s eat. I know a ce with decent seafood. You¡¯ll like it.¡¯


    He nodded. ¡®Alright.¡¯


    We pulled away from the Laurent estate and headed downhill, tyres tracing the edge of the winding road.


    I insisted on driving. Told him he didn¡¯t know the way.


    Which was technically true, but mostly I just didn¡¯t want him gripping a steering wheel while still running on adrenaline.


    He¡¯d flipped a table twenty minutes ago. That kind of rage didn¡¯t dissolve with a car ride and a polite gift exchange.


    I needed him still for a bit.


    The city crept closer, and the streetlights started catching on the dashboard.


    The ce I had in mind wasn¡¯t far.


    I parked outside a row of rundown buildings with rusted shutters and faded signs.


    ¡®It¡¯s in that alley,¡¯ I said, pointing between two cracked walls. ¡®Looks dodgy, but the food¡¯s worth it.¡¯


    Ashton looked down the alley. The car definitely wouldn¡¯t fit.


    ¡®It used to be wider,¡¯ I said quickly. ¡®You could drive in before, but the hospital¡¯s building some new wing or whatever, and now half the road¡¯s blocked. We¡¯ll have to walk the rest.¡¯


    He stared at the barricades.


    I scratched the back of my neck.


    ¡®We can go somewhere else if you want.¡¯


    ¡®No need.¡¯ He started walking. ¡®You said the food¡¯s good. I¡¯ll take your word for it.¡¯


    We went in deeper.


    Neon signs flickered above narrow doors¡ªhotpot, ceviche, oyster bars crammed together.


    Most had a few tables.


    People were eating fast and loud, steam rolling out the doorways.


    My ce had six tables, all filled except one in the back corner.


    I turned around and saw him still at the entrance, scanning everything¡ªwalls, ceiling, floor.


    ¡®The owner¡¯s obsessed with cleaning,¡¯ I said, fast. ¡®They bleach the floors twice a day.¡¯


    He stepped in and slid into the seat by the wall. ¡®It¡¯s fine. Looks clean.¡¯


    ¡®As long as you¡¯re not horrified.¡¯ I waved at the kitchen. ¡®Two seafood tters, please!¡¯


    ¡®You got it!¡¯ the owner yelled back. He spotted me and grinned. ¡®Long time no see, Mirabelle.¡¯


    Then he vanished back into the kitchen.


    Ashton nced around again.


    The walls were lined with cheap wooden panels painted seafoam green.


    Fishings were nailed up for decoration, and a dusty life preserver hung over the drinks fridge.


    A row of stic crabs was glued to the ceiling.


    I leaned forward. ¡®It¡¯s tiny andpletely out of the way, but the food¡¯s worth it. Trust me, you¡¯ll regret it if you skip it.¡¯


    He raised an eyebrow. ¡®Youe here often?¡¯


    ¡®Not really. Once in a while when I¡¯m craving seafood. I used toe more, but then I moved overseas.¡¯


    He opened his mouth like he was about to ask something else, but the owner showed up just then, carrying two trays stacked with crab legs, prawns, ms, scallops¡ªsteaming, zed with garlic butter and lemon wedges.


    ¡®Dig in,¡¯ I said.


    He put on a pair of disposable gloves, picked up a prawn, peeled it fast, and passed it to me.


    I took it, shoved it in my mouth before he could change his mind.


    He ate, eyes lifting every few seconds to check on me.


    ¡®You¡¯re inhaling it,¡¯ he said under his breath.


    ¡®It¡¯s seafood. It¡¯s not meant to sit around.¡¯ I reached for another crab leg.


    He watched me, chewing with a half-smile that made it clear he found the whole thing mildly ridiculous.


    I ignored it.


    By the time we got up to leave, it was snowing.


    Thick kes covered the pavement and caught in Ashton¡¯s hair as we stepped outside.


    I hissed at the wind.


    The owner came jogging out with an umbre. ¡®Here, take this. You¡¯ll be drenched in five minutes without it.¡¯


    ¡®Thanks,¡¯ Ashton said, taking it from him. He opened it and held it over my head.


    The thing was barely wide enough for one person, so we ended up shoulder to shoulder, pressed close.


    His coat brushed my arm with every step.


    The street was quiet except for our boots crunching over snow.


    Cold air stung my face.


    My fingers brushed his as we walked.


    His hand was warm. Mine wasn¡¯t.


    I shifted closer. The next time our hands touched, he caught mine.


    I didn¡¯t pull away.


    The alley wasn¡¯t long, but we took our time.


    Snow kept falling. Streetlights blinked through the white.


    Just before we reached the end of the block, he leaned in and said quietly, ¡®Do you want to give it a shot?¡¯


    ¡®Give what a shot?¡¯


    He nced down at me. ¡®Liking me. Us. A rtionship. A real one. Can I ask you to try?¡¯


    I turned to look at him. His eyes were steady, open.


    The light from the storefronts didn¡¯t reach this far, but I could see him clearly.


    Just him. Just us, under the umbre.


    Behind him, snow kept falling, thick and endless.


    My pulse spiked.


    I kept seeing him in the car, how tightly he¡¯d held me, how his voice had cracked like he couldn¡¯t get it under control.


    I¡¯d brought him here because I wanted to share something that made me happy, hoping it would make him happy, too.


    It wasn¡¯t much, just a small thing, but it was all I had to offer.

 Chapter 170 - 171 Body Language

    <h4>Chapter 170: Chapter 171 Body Language</h4>


    He¡¯d asked if I could try. Try to like him. Try to see what we could be if it were real.


    I didn¡¯t have a reason to say no.


    ¡®Alright,¡¯ I said.


    His whole face shifted.


    That careful, nk expression he always wore cracked open.


    His mouth twitched up into a pleased curve.


    Before he could speak, I cut in. ¡®But we agreed on one year. We said we¡¯d divorce after that.¡¯


    I¡¯d started having feelings for him for a while now, I knew.


    But there was a deal, a deadline.


    It hadn¡¯t been a fairy tale; it was a contract.


    ¡®Yeah,¡¯ he said quietly. ¡®We did.¡¯


    He looked away for a second, then back at me. ¡®But contracts can be changed. Updated. Scrapped.¡¯


    ¡®So you¡¯re saying the one-year limit¡¯s off? There are still eight months left. Well, seven and nine days.¡¯


    His eyes narrowed. ¡®You¡¯ve been thinking about it this whole time, haven¡¯t you? Counting down the days until you could leave.¡¯


    ¡®...I haven¡¯t.¡¯


    I had counted.


    But not because I wanted it to end.


    I¡¯d wanted time to slow down.


    Being married to Ashton had been the only stretch of life that felt calm.


    Not perfect. Just... solid.


    But every time I got toofortable, the deadline hit me again, reminding me not to get used to it, reminding me I didn¡¯t get to keep him.


    If there weren¡¯t a deadline, I wouldn¡¯t need to keep stepping back.


    ¡®So,¡¯ Ashton said again, ¡®you¡¯ll give us a shot? Try to like me?¡¯


    ¡®I can.¡¯ I already did. ¡®What about you?¡¯


    He stepped in. Bent slightly, just enough to force me to look up.


    ¡®You really don¡¯t know?¡¯


    Snow was swirling around us, but under the umbre, it was quiet, like we¡¯d shut the rest of the city out.


    Ashton¡¯s stare pinned me in ce.


    I shut my eyes.


    Everything came rushing in.


    Ashton in the stairwell, hands streaked with dust after fixing the fuse box.


    The hospital, when he showed up with a nket, a pair of slippers and coffee hot enough to burn my tongue.


    The night he asked if I wanted to marry him, like he was offering to split a cab.


    The night of the final rehearsal dinner, lights off, music humming through the dark, his arms around me in a practice dance.


    The pool, where his face broke through the water surface and became thest thing I saw before I went under.


    The courthouse steps, where he handed me flowers and said I was brave.


    He always showed up.


    Even when I didn¡¯t ask.


    Even when I tried to push him away.


    He backed me, every time.


    That fireworks show. The cake.


    And the money. No strings, just there when I needed it.


    If he never said how he felt, he showed it, more than enough.


    I opened my eyes. They stung.


    Whatever had me second-guessing before, it didn¡¯t hold anymore.


    I raised my hand and rested it lightly against the back of his neck, drawing him in.


    Then I kissed him.


    His mouth met mine with quiet intent, firm, unhurried.


    His lips were cold from the air but softened quickly against mine.


    I tasted the peppermint from the tea he¡¯d sipped after dinner.


    His hand cupped my waist, fingers pressing through the fabric of my coat, grounding me.


    The alley was narrow, lined with dark brick walls.


    A kitchen fan hummed faintly behind a metal door, but the street noise barely reached us.


    The snow kept falling, light and constant, muffling everything.


    A patch of melted slush glistened under the amber streemp at the alley¡¯s end.


    I didn¡¯t close my eyes.


    I wanted to remember everything¡ªthe way he tilted his head slightly to deepen the kiss, how he breathed through his nose to keep from pulling away, the faint scratch of stubble along his jaw as I moved closer.


    His grip tightened, then loosened, like he was trying not to rush, like he didn¡¯t want it to end too soon.


    I felt the chill seeping through my boots and the press of his chest against mine.


    The umbre tilted as his arm shifted, and a few snowkesnded on my cheek.


    He drew back just enough to look at me.


    His breath came out white and uneven.


    We stayed like that for a second, faces close, sharing the same cold air, before he leaned in again and kissed me harder, like he¡¯d decided something.


    ***


    He drove with one hand on the wheel and the other locked around mine.


    I told him twice to let go.


    The snow was thick, the roads slick, and thest thing I wanted was to skid off a bridge and have the paramedics find us still holding hands like some deranged couple in a suicide pact.


    He didn¡¯t answer either time. Just tightened his grip and kept his eyes on the road.


    Eventually, I gave up.


    His thumb moved slowly across my knuckles, back and forth, like he didn¡¯t realise he was doing it.


    But I knew better.


    Ashton didn¡¯t say much when it came to feelings, but I¡¯d learned to read his tells¡ªtouch was hisnguage.


    So I let him hold on.


    When we walked through the front door, the house was already lit, hallwaymps on, kitchen glowing gold from the under-cab lights.


    It smelled faintly of ginger and something roasted, but the usual tter of Geoffrey preparingte tea or Carmen yelling at her tablet was missing.


    We headed upstairs.


    At the top, he paused outside my door.


    I turned to face him, heart thudding too fast for how quiet everything was.


    His eyes met mine.


    He waited.


    I stood on tiptoe, kissed him again.


    Then I pulled back, just far enough to say, ¡®Good night.¡¯


    He nodded. ¡®Good night, Mira.¡¯


    I pretended not to notice the disappointment in his eyes.


    I watched his back as he walked to his room.


    My hand hovered on the doorknob.


    I wanted to ask him in.


    Every inch of me was wired for it, tuned to the thought of his hands, his mouth, the heat of him pressed against me again.


    But I didn¡¯t.


    I went inside, shut the door, and leaned against it.


    I wasn¡¯t going to make the same mistake I¡¯d made with Rhys. Not with Ashton. Not when this had a chance to be real.


    Still, I couldn¡¯t stop picturing him.


    As I stood in the shower, rinsing conditioner from my hair, I caught myself wondering if he was thinking about the alley. About the kiss.


    If he was lying on his bed, arms folded behind his head, eyes on the ceiling, reying it the way I was.

 Chapter 171 - 172 Reinstated

    <h4>Chapter 171: Chapter 172 Reinstated</h4>


    I got to the studio just after nine.


    I¡¯d barely gotten any sleepst night, my lips felt swollen, and I was still smiling like an idiot.


    Last night seemed to have jolted something loose in him.


    This morning, right after I¡¯de downstairs and before I even had the time to say good morning, Ashton shoved me against the hallway wall and kissed me like we were trying to break a record.


    Thirty minutes. I counted.


    By minute twenty-two, my knees were gone.


    By minute twenty-eight, my vision cked out for a second.


    I nearly passed out in his arms and he still didn¡¯t stop until I shoved him away.


    After breakfast, I tried sneaking out.


    He caught me at the door, pressed me against it, and spent ten more minutes recreating the pleasantly numbing sensation.


    Apparently, Mr Iceberg was dead, reced by someone who couldn¡¯t keep his hands to himself for more than six minutes at a time.


    I should¡¯ve been irritated.


    Instead, I felt light. Warm. Like my ribs had been unzipped.


    I grinned the entire car ride to the studio, lips twitching every time his stupid face popped into my head.


    Priya caught me at the sink, fiddling with my travel mug.


    ¡®What are you smiling at?¡¯ she asked, squinting.


    ¡®Huh?¡¯ I tried ttening my mouth. My jaw ached. ¡®Nothing.¡¯


    She didn¡¯t look convinced. ¡®Well, something¡¯s gone right. The Aureate Awards just sent a letter. You¡¯re back in.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s good news.¡¯ I muttered a quick thank-you to Octavia in my heart.


    ¡®They reversed the disqualification. You¡¯re officially reinstated.¡¯ Priya grinned. ¡®I printed the letter. Framed it for you.¡¯


    My grin came back, wider than before.


    Priya held up a printed sheet.


    ¡®Here,petition schedule. Location, check-in, rules. Says you¡¯ll be sketching on site for eight hours straight. Eight. Hours. Have fun with that.¡¯


    I took the page from her and scanned the bullet points.


    Thepetition was in Riverbend, a couple hours outside Skyline.


    Not far, but far enough to mean hotels, travel.


    ¡®Can you pull the themes from the past few years?¡¯ I said. ¡®Winners, too. Anything visual. I want to study them properly.¡¯


    ¡®Already on it,¡¯ Priya said, skipping towards her desk.


    I pulled out my phone and shot Octavia a message: [Thanks for getting me back in. Owe you dinner, drinks, or both.]


    She replied with a thumbs-up and a smiley face.


    Just before lunch, Daniel came racing down the stairs with hisptop open.


    ¡®You won¡¯t believe it,¡¯ he shouted, sliding theptop in front of me. ¡®That bracelet youunched? It blew up. Thousands of orders already. Might cross ten thousand by tonight.¡¯


    I stared at the screen. Order notifications stacked in rows. All for the same bracelet.


    I¡¯d designed it a month ago. Minimal lines, matte gold, tiny sp with a hidden hinge.


    It was meant as a stopgap, a quick product to make up for all the custom projects I¡¯d lost after Harper¡¯s tantrum scared off half my clients.


    No clients meant no orders. No orders meant no rent.


    I posted the bracelet online just to fill the silence.


    First few days, nothing. Dead air.


    Then, two nights ago, I dressed up a bit, took photos of the bracelet on my wrist. Posted it to Instagram and X.


    I didn¡¯t expect anything. It was just a routine promotion.


    By morning, there were ten thousandments.


    Most of them weren¡¯t even about the bracelet.


    Daniel swore. ¡®Shit, the site¡¯s down! Too many orders. The whole thing froze.¡¯


    He spun the screen around.


    The browser was stuck loading, pixted like a bad livestream.


    ¡®It couldn¡¯t handle the traffic,¡¯ he said. ¡®I had it pped togetherst month, cheap and fast. I¡¯ll call someone in to fix it.¡¯


    ¡®Leave it,¡¯ I said. ¡®A short crash isn¡¯t the worst thing. It slows the flood. We can¡¯t fill ten thousand orders overnight anyway. Once the money clears, we¡¯ll pay for a proper site.¡¯


    The bracelet orders were still funnelled through the same factory Nyx Collective used.


    The ce could only churn out so many pieces a week.


    Even if we worked double shifts, it¡¯d take a month to get through the backlog.


    But the price I¡¯d set wasn¡¯t low.


    Selling thousands meant serious cash. Enough to give Priya and Daniel a pay bump and still have room left for new materials.


    By five, my jaw ached from smiling.


    Every call brought new numbers. Every email had more press than thest.


    By six, I¡¯d forgotten what silence sounded like.


    By eight, I could barely keep my eyes open.


    ***


    Ashton didn¡¯te home for dinner.


    I sat in the living room, TV ying something with cannedughter I wasn¡¯t listening to.


    At some point, I curled sideways on the sofa and passed out.


    I woke to the door clicking open.


    Ashton stepped in, head down, fingers at the cor of his shirt.


    I sat up, blinking hard.


    He walked over, the scent of whisky trailing behind him.


    ¡®You¡¯ve been drinking?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®Didn¡¯t touch it. But others drank.¡¯


    He shrugged off his jacket and let it drop on the floor.


    The whisky smell thinned out as the fabric settled.


    He looked worn out. There was shadow under his eyes.


    ¡®There¡¯s warm milk in the kitchen,¡¯ I said. ¡®Carmen made it before she left. She¡¯s not feeling great, so I told her to go to bed early. I¡¯ll get it for you.¡¯


    I shifted to get up, reached for my slippers.


    He leant down, pressed a hand against my shoulder, pushed me back into the cushions.


    ¡®I don¡¯t want milk,¡¯ he muttered against my lips.


    I tried to speak, but the sound caught in my throat.


    He moved fast, hands locked around my waist, body flush against mine, pinning me to the cushions.


    The silk pyjamas I¡¯d put on after my shower clung to me.


    He gripped my hips, dragged the fabric tighter.


    His fingers dug in just above my waistband.

 Chapter 172 - 173 Different Ideas

    <h4>Chapter 172: Chapter 173 Different Ideas</h4>


    ¡®You¡¯ve lost weight,¡¯ he said against my cheek. ¡®Eat something that isn¡¯t toast and coffee.¡¯


    The second I opened my mouth to reply, he kissed me again. Harder.


    I didn¡¯t get a word in.


    My back slid deeper into the cushions until I couldn¡¯t breathe properly.


    He hauled me upright with one arm and didn¡¯t stop.


    He wasn¡¯t drunk.


    I didn¡¯t want to think about how he¡¯d act if he was.


    When I agreed to give us a tryst night, I didn¡¯t know I¡¯d be flipping a switch inside him.


    ¡®You¡¯re distracted,¡¯ he murmured, teeth brushing my ear.


    Then he scooped me up, one hand under my thighs, the other pressed to the nape of my neck.


    His mouth never left mine.


    He carried me up the stairs.


    Every step jolted through me.


    My arms looped around his shoulders without thinking.


    I wasn¡¯t falling, but it felt like I might.


    His grip stayed tight, possessive.


    My feet hung uselessly behind him, toes nudging his leg as he walked.


    I could feel the exact pressure of his palm on my lower back, holding me steady.


    He pushed open my bedroom door with his elbow.


    The mattress met my spine a momentter.


    I sucked in air like I¡¯d been underwater.


    As soon as he let go, I rolled to the edge of the bed and yanked the nket up to my chin.


    ¡®I¡¯m done. I¡¯m tired. I¡¯m going to sleep.¡¯


    He pressed one palm to my shoulder and leaned in.


    ¡®You¡¯re the one who said we should try.¡¯


    I tried to scoot further, dragging half the nket with me. ¡®Is this your idea of trying?¡¯


    To me, ¡®try¡¯ meant dinners, movies, goodnight kisses, eventually working our way to the bedroom.


    His clearly involved fewer clothes and no breaks.


    I yanked the nket over my head. ¡®We¡¯ve hit the daily quota. I¡¯m serious. I¡¯m about to pass out.¡¯


    It was only a partial lie.


    I¡¯d been swamped all day¡ªback-to-back calls with suppliers, studying pastpetition entries, chasing down that factory contact who refused to pick up before 7 p.m.


    I¡¯d already started nodding off on the sofa earlier.


    Now, with my legs tangled in sheets and my lungs deprived of oxygen, sleep was dragging me under.


    Ashton leaned down, weight sinking into the mattress.


    His breathnded hot behind my ear.


    ¡®I¡¯m flying out tomorrow. Won¡¯t be back for a few days.¡¯


    ¡®Got it. Safe travels,¡¯ I mumbled, already halfway gone.


    ¡®I¡¯m going to miss you.¡¯ He braced himself on one elbow.


    I didn¡¯t respond.


    My eyes had shut on their own.


    Ashton pinched my nose.


    Then he got up, dragged the nket over my shoulders, stood at the edge of the bed for an unnecessarily long time, and finally left.


    By the time I came downstairs the next morning, he was already gone.


    ¡®Mr Laurent has left for his trip,¡¯ Geoffrey announced.


    ¡®Got it.¡¯


    It wasn¡¯t that I didn¡¯t like him.


    It was that my mouth and neck were still sore, and I didn¡¯t feel like being used as a training dummy for his overachieving libido.


    Half an hour minimum, every time.


    My spine deserved hazard pay.


    While I ate, Geoffrey hovered nearby like a polite English ghost.


    ¡®Mrs Laurent,¡¯ he said, ¡®we¡¯ve discovered the heating in your bedroom¡¯s malfunctioned. Maintenance will being in today. Do you have anything valuable inside?¡¯


    ¡®No,¡¯ I said, between mouthfuls. ¡®They can go in.¡¯


    I hadn¡¯t noticed anything when I got up.


    Felt fine, if a bit groggy.


    I shoved it out of my mind and spent the rest of the day buried in fabric samples, order dys, and a client who changed their entire design concept because Mercury was apparently in retrograde.


    Late evening, I got home, ate dinner, went upstairs, walked into my room and nearly shrieked.


    The air was sharp and dry.


    Cold bit straight through my clothes.


    It was like walking into a freezer.


    ¡®Geoffrey,¡¯ I stepped back into the hallway, ¡®the heating¡¯s still busted?¡¯


    He appeared from somewhere down the corridor. ¡®Yes, Mrs Laurent. The system in your room is particrly intricate. They¡¯ll need to return tomorrow.¡¯


    I stared at him.


    This house had five floors, heated marble floors, and smart toilets.


    How could my room be the only one with busted heating?


    ¡®Is the heating in the rest of the house working?¡¯


    ¡®Some parts, yes.¡¯


    ¡®Then give me another room for the night. Any room.¡¯


    He smiled.


    I counted eight mrs and instantly didn¡¯t trust it.


    ¡®Heating¡¯s out on the entire floor dedicated to guest rooms,¡¯ he said. ¡®All the bedrooms are freezing. And the central air system¡¯s down as well.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯ve got to be kidding.¡¯ I rubbed my arms through my sleeves. ¡®So you¡¯re saying none of the rooms are liveable?¡¯


    ¡®Not quite. Mr Laurent¡¯s suite still has working heat.¡¯


    I stared at him. ¡®Why? Isn¡¯t this ce on central heating? His room and mine are on the same floor.¡¯


    Geoffrey folded his hands in front of him. ¡®Yes. Except his room¡¯s on an independent system. Mr Laurent¡¯s suite was customised separately during thest renovation. Different wiring. Entirely self-contained.¡¯


    ¡®That so?¡¯


    It sounded likeplete nonsense.


    Who renovates a mansion and gives one room its own climate control?


    But Geoffrey had the posture of someone on the witness stand at a murder trial.


    Besides, what reason could he have for lying to me?


    Then he suggested, ¡®Since Mr Laurent¡¯s away, why not stay in his room tonight?¡¯


    I nced at the closed door at the end of the hall.


    Heavy, dark, and extremely locked-looking.


    I¡¯d never stepped foot in there.


    A person¡¯s bedroom was sacred territory.


    I wasn¡¯t about to crawl into his bed uninvited while he was away on a business trip.


    ¡®No. Just bring me another nket. I¡¯ll manage. No¡ªbring ten.¡¯


    ¡®As you wish.¡¯


    I walked back into my room and sat on the bed.


    Five minutester, Geoffrey knocked and handed me a stack of nkets.


    They looked thick.


    They were not.

 Chapter 173 - 174 His Room, His Bed

    <h4>Chapter 173: Chapter 174 His Room, His Bed</h4>


    Thirty minutes passed.


    My toes went stiff.


    My nose ran.


    I felt like a dead fish in the back of a refrigerated truck.


    I shoved the nkets off and marched back out.


    ¡®Geoffrey!¡¯


    He materialised. ¡®Yes, Mrs Laurent?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll take Ashton¡¯s room. I¡¯m not freezing to death in here.¡¯


    ¡®Of course, Mrs Laurent. Mr Laurent¡¯s sheets and linens were all changed this morning. Everything¡¯s fresh. You can go right in.¡¯


    ¡®Got it.¡¯


    Standing outside his bedroom, I texted him.


    [Can I crash in your room tonight? Mine¡¯s freezing. I think something¡¯s leaking air through the walls.]


    He replied almost instantly.


    [Of course. It¡¯s our house. Mine and yours. Sleep wherever you like.]


    I typed out ¡®thanks¡¯, then deleted it.


    He hated when I thanked him for anything.


    Instead, I sent a grumpy cat sticker with its photoshopped thumb up.


    The second I stepped inside, heat wrapped around me.


    The air smelled like pine and detergent.


    It was like walking from winter straight into early summer.


    I kicked off my slippers and looked around.


    The whole room was ck, white, and grey.


    Nothing on the walls, no clutter, no mess.


    Every edge was clean. Not a single personal object in sight.


    It was like a high-end corporate suite pretending to be a bedroom.


    Geoffrey hadn¡¯t been lying¡ªthis room really had been built differently.


    The en-suite was just as severe.


    ck tiles, dark counters, a ss shower that looked like it had never been used.


    I flicked on the lights and winced at the harsh re.


    I washed quickly and padded out in pyjamas.


    I threw myself onto his bed and rolled from side to side.


    ¡®God, this thing¡¯s way softer than mine.¡¯


    The bed was massive.


    I flopped around like an idiot and still couldn¡¯t quite reach the edge.


    The room was pitch ck. No street noise, no light bleeding through the curtains.


    It was stuffy, but not unpleasant.


    I thought I¡¯d be too wired to sleep in someone else¡¯s bed.


    I was wrong.


    The second my head hit the pillow, I knocked out.


    I slept deeper than I had in weeks.


    When I opened my eyes, it was already close to nine.


    I went downstairs barefoot, chewing a piece of toast, and nearly walked into a pair of workers carrying a metal toolbox.


    Drills buzzed somewhere in the house.


    Wires hung from the ceiling in clumps.


    Someone shouted for a wrench from inside the boiler room.


    I found Geoffrey by the stairs.


    ¡®Think they¡¯ll fix it today?¡¯


    ¡®Hard to say. This house isn¡¯t standard construction. Every pipe¡¯s custom. If one thing breaks, it turns into a whole operation. No guarantees.¡¯


    I muttered, ¡®Great,¡¯ around a mouthful of bread.


    That night, Geoffrey told me the heating still wasn¡¯t working in my room.


    So I went straight back to Ashton¡¯s.


    Every day after that, it was the same routine.


    I¡¯d ask if things were fixed.


    Geoffrey would frown and say something about structuralplexity.


    I¡¯d nod, thank the workers, and climb into Ashton¡¯s bed again.


    After a few more days, I stopped asking.


    I didn¡¯t even bother checking my room anymore.


    This morning, somewhere between sleep and waking, I felt heat pressing against my back.


    The sheets were warmer than usual.


    My knees brushed something solid.


    There was a slow rise and fall beside me, and my army across something hot and smooth.


    I shifted closer and my hand slid across a firm, bare chest.


    I jerked awake.


    Ashton¡¯s face filled my vision.


    It was inches from mine, eyes closed, jaw ck, his breath brushing my nose.


    My leg was hooked around his thigh.


    My arm pinned his.


    My cheek practically stuck to his chest.


    I tried to yank myself free.


    His arm locked tighter around my waist.


    ¡®When did you get back?¡¯ I asked. ¡®Geoffrey said you wouldn¡¯t be home for another week.¡¯


    Ashton didn¡¯t open his eyes.


    His brow creased. His voice was low and slurred. ¡®Back to sleep.¡¯


    He tugged me in harder.


    My face burned.


    Last night, I¡¯d starfished across this bed without a care.


    Now I was trapped under a human radiator with a six-foot frame and zero regard for personal space.


    I cleared my throat. ¡®Right. I¡¯ll just¡ªget up and go. You can have your bed back.¡¯


    I pushed against his arm.


    It didn¡¯t budge.


    I tried to slide out backwards.


    He shifted, half-asleep, and his grip mped down again like I was some oversized body pillow.


    ¡®Ashton,¡¯ I muttered. ¡®You¡¯re crushing me.¡¯


    He mumbled into my hair, ¡®Got in at two. Let me sleep a bit longer.¡¯


    I leaned back a little to stare at him.


    He hadn¡¯t shaved.


    Hisshes twitched.


    His hand was warm on my lower back, and despite the death grip, his breathing stayed steady.


    He really did look wrecked.


    I stopped struggling.


    My muscles ckened against the heat of the mattress, his body, the nket pulled up to our shoulders.


    It was warm under the covers.


    Not just central-heating warm. Real, body-on-body warmth.


    I let out a quiet breath and eased closer.


    Just five minutes. Maybe ten.


    I didn¡¯t mean to fall asleep again.


    But I did.


    When I opened my eyes, Ashton was lying on his side, propped on one arm, watching me.


    His hair stuck out at the back like he¡¯d run both hands through it.


    His eyes stayed on mine.


    ¡®What time is it?¡¯ I asked, my voice scratchy.


    He nced at the edge of the curtain where sunlight leaked through. ¡®No idea.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t look like he nned on moving.


    His elbow sank deeper into the mattress, but the rest of him stayedpletely still, except for the way his gaze kept dragging over my face, my corbone, the edge of my shoulder where the nket slipped.


    My limbs felt heavy and warm, like the sleep hadn¡¯t fully worn off.


    I blinked slowly and let my head fall back onto the pillow.


    He kept staring.


    I felt the air shift.


    He leaned in slightly, then pulled back again.


    His hand clenched and released near the nket.


    Then he said, low: ¡®You¡¯ve hijacked my bed. I feel like I¡¯m owed something.¡¯

 Chapter 174 - 175 Payment

    <h4>Chapter 174: Chapter 175 Payment</h4>


    I didn¡¯t open my eyes. ¡®What kind of something?¡¯


    His mouth brushed mine. Light pressure, nothing more.


    Then his lips moved again, more deliberately this time.


    His hand hovered near my hip but didn¡¯t touch.


    The slower he went, the harder it was to think.


    My fingers curled in the sheets.


    My breath caught halfway out of my throat.


    Ashton finally let go after what felt like forever.


    He tugged the covers down a little and nudged my shoulder.


    Oxygen-deprived, I felt more lethargic than before. ¡®Not getting up. Let¡¯s just sleep a bit longer. I¡¯m not going to the studio today.¡¯


    I shoved my face against his chest and curled closer.


    He let out a sharp breath near my ear.


    ¡®You can continue to use the bed, but I demand more payment.¡¯


    I mumbled, ¡®What do you want then?¡¯


    He rolled over me in one movement.


    The mattress dipped under his weight, and when I blinked up, his face hovered inches from mine.


    His eyes looked darker than usual, almost ck.


    I could feel the pressure of him everywhere, especially below the waist.


    Sudden rity hit.


    I shoved both hands against his chest.


    ¡®Alright! I¡¯m up! I¡¯m getting up now! I wasn¡¯t nning to steal your bed, Jesus¡ª¡¯


    I scrambled out from under him, caught my foot in the duvet, tripped halfway to the floor and bolted for the bathroom.


    The door mmed behind me a secondter.


    I heard hisughter.


    By the time I came downstairs, it was past noon.


    Lunch was already on the table.


    Ashton sat across from me, cutting his steak like he hadn¡¯t just tried to ravage me upstairs.


    I stabbed a cherry tomato and nced over at Geoffrey. ¡®When¡¯s the heating getting fixed?¡¯


    Geoffrey hesitated.


    His eyes flicked to Ashton, who didn¡¯t even pause chewing.


    Geoffrey cleared his throat and said, ¡®Mrs Laurent, we¡¯re still waiting on a few parts. They need to be shipped in from Italy. Could take a week, maybe longer.¡¯


    I dropped my fork. ¡®You¡¯re telling me the radiator needs Italian imports now?¡¯


    He nodded. ¡®This heating system isn¡¯t standard. It runs on a closed-loop radiator circuit, built for high-pressure flow. If the internal stabilisers aren¡¯t calibrated with the original manufacturer¡¯sponents, the system bes vtile...¡¯


    Geoffrey droned on, throwing in half a dozen words I didn¡¯t recognise.


    Something about a thermostatic valve, a bypass manifold, and¡ªChrist, was he talking about glycol now?


    I stopped listening after thirty seconds.


    My brain drifted straight into panic-nning mode.


    Ashton was back. Which meant I had to move out of his room.


    On paper, we were married.


    In practice, we¡¯d just started dating.


    Sharing a bed with him was premature. And dangerous.


    Especially with the way he kissed.


    What if he decided to take things further?


    What if I didn¡¯t have the willpower to say no?


    My face went hot.


    My spoon slowed halfway to my mouth.


    Ashton scooped sd onto my te with the serving spoon. ¡®What are you thinking about?¡¯


    ¡®What? Nothing.¡¯ I shook my head too fast andughed like an idiot. ¡®Just zoning out.¡¯


    I looked up and caught Geoffrey¡¯s eyes.


    He smiled andunched straight back into it.


    I caught phrases like ¡®family-run factory¡¯ and ¡®founded in 1907¡¯, and something about northern Italy¡¯s copper industry.


    I held up both hands. ¡®Okay, okay, I get it. It can¡¯t be rushed.¡¯


    Geoffrey nodded. ¡®Exactly.¡¯


    I pushed back my chair. ¡®Okay. I¡¯m full. Completely stuffed. I need to swing by the studio. Gotta run.¡¯


    I grabbed a napkin, wiped my mouth, and bolted before anyone could stop me.


    I told them I was going to the studio, but I ended up at Sugar & Whim, wedged into the booth across from Yvaine, clutching a hot cappino.


    Hotels felt too obvious.


    And I wasn¡¯t sure how Ashton would react to it.


    Oakwood was out too.


    Priya was living there and there was only one bedroom.


    That left me with one option.


    ¡®Let me stay with you for a bit?¡¯ I asked.


    Yvaine smacked me on the forehead as an answer.


    ¡®Are you thick? You¡¯re the one who said you¡¯d give the rtionship a try. Now the universe throws you a setup with mood lighting and a king-sized bed, and you want to leave?¡¯


    I rubbed my temple. ¡®I just¡ª¡¯


    ¡®No. Shut it. Do you know how many women would stab each other with heels just to be in your shoes right now? I used to worry that ghost-of-girlfriend-past woulde waltzing back into his life. But now he¡¯s made it very clear he wants YOU. So you need to hold your ground. Keep your name on that mailbox. And for the love of god, stop acting like a coward.¡¯


    I groaned. ¡®It¡¯s not about the bed.¡¯


    ¡®Right, you¡¯re just terrified of identally shagging your husband.¡¯


    ¡®Yes.¡¯


    ¡®Mira.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m serious. If I stay in that room, it¡¯s only a matter of time before one of us does something stupid.¡¯


    I set the cup down and looked away.


    My cheeks burned just thinking about thest time he kissed me.


    My knees had nearly buckled.


    Every nerve had gone loose and twitchy.


    I couldn¡¯t trust myself around that man.


    It wasn¡¯t that I didn¡¯t want him.


    That was the problem. I wanted him too much.


    ¡®We barely even have a proper rtionship,¡¯ I muttered. ¡®Jumping into bed with him now would be... stupid.¡¯


    Yvaine smacked the side of my head again.


    ¡®Ow!¡¯


    ¡®Since when did you turn into a nun? You used to be fun. What, been fake-married for a few months and now you¡¯re Mrs Moral Code?¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s not the same,¡¯ I said, rubbing my temple.


    ¡®It¡¯s sex, not a blood pact. You¡¯re in charge, not him. Knowing him, he¡¯s not going to push you into anything. What are you even afraid of?¡¯


    I narrowed my eyes at her.


    Something felt off.


    ¡®Why are you so desperate to keep me out of your house? You hiding something?¡¯

 Chapter 175 - 176 Share a Bed

    <h4>Chapter 175: Chapter 176 Share a Bed</h4>


    Yvaine tried to deny it, but failed.


    Then she let out a weird giggle.


    ¡®I may have started seeing someone. Just casually. Definitely not living together. I¡¯ve just been busy, that¡¯s all.¡¯


    ¡®Wait, what?¡¯ I sat forward. ¡®Who is he?¡¯


    ¡®Here, look.¡¯


    She pulled out her phone and shoved the screen in my face.


    A selfie of a baby-faced guy with ridiculously symmetrical features stared back at me. Full lips. Strong brows. Zero pores.


    I squinted. ¡®I¡¯ve seen him before. Isn¡¯t he one of those online boys who lip-sync and flex shirtless?¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s him,¡¯ she said, beaming. ¡®He¡¯s got two hundred K followers.¡¯


    ¡®Is he actually that good-looking in real life? Or is it just lighting and filters? And isn¡¯t he, like, eighteen? What the hell does an eighteen-year-old want from you if not your Amex?¡¯


    Yvaine rolled her eyes. ¡®He¡¯s twenty-one. Three years younger than me. Still in uni. And yes, I¡¯ve seen him in person¡ªhe looks even better. No filters. No scams. And before you say anything, no, he hasn¡¯t asked me for money. But if he ever does, I¡¯ve got more than enough. I don¡¯t mind paying a little for emotional support. He¡¯s cute, he¡¯s clingy without being annoying, he doesn¡¯t sulk, and the stamina...¡¯ She fanned her face. ¡®Trust me. I know what I¡¯m doing.¡¯


    ¡®So you just weren¡¯t going to tell me?¡¯ I leaned back and crossed my arms. ¡®What if he¡¯s some Cassian knockoff and you¡¯re just using him to get back at your ex?¡¯


    Yvaine looked mildly offended, which meant I was right.


    ¡®I was going to tell you eventually.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯d better. Next time, bring him out. I want a proper look before you start letting him stay over.¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s not staying over,¡¯ she said quickly. ¡®Anyway, he¡¯s studying film. Got a decent following online. He wants to be in the industry eventually. It¡¯s not serious. I¡¯m just... having fun. That¡¯s all.¡¯


    I hoped that was true, for her sake.


    ***


    Later that night, I got home and instantly regretted it.


    My bedroom was freezing.


    I circled it twice, rubbing my arms.


    The vent in the corner made a quiet clicking sound, but it wasn¡¯t blowing warm air.


    I checked the guest rooms.


    Same issue.


    I stood in the hallway, weighing my options¡ªsofa or hotel¡ªwhen a voice rang out behind me.


    ¡®nning to sleep on the sofa to avoid sharing a bed with me? What do you think I¡¯m going to do to you?¡¯


    I jumped and grabbed the bannister.


    My heel slipped on the edge of the step, and I nearly cracked my tailbone on marble.


    Ashton was leaning against his doorframe, hair slightly damp.


    Thatzy posture didn¡¯t match his voice.


    ¡®You¡¯re terrified of me now?¡¯


    I smiled like nothing about this was awkward. ¡®I was just trying not to disturb your sleep.¡¯


    ¡®So considerate. nning to get pneumonia in the living room?¡¯


    ¡®The living room¡¯s warm,¡¯ I said, ncing at the first floor. Lying through my teeth.


    Ashton walked towards me.


    He didn¡¯t stop until I was boxed in between the bannister and him. Not touching me, but close enough that I could feel the heat off his skin.


    ¡®What¡¯s the issue? Worried I¡¯ll try something?¡¯


    I backed into the bannister, spine stiff against the polished wood.


    My elbows bumped the top rail as I tilted backwards, trying to keep some air between us.


    He moved closer.


    I shifted.


    He followed.


    I was bent halfway into a backbend like a folding chair.


    He caught my arm and tugged me upright again.


    ¡®What¡¯s this? Staircase yoga?¡¯


    I red up at him and bit out, ¡®I¡¯m not scared of you.¡¯


    He gave me a smile that didn¡¯t reach his eyes. ¡®Then why are you acting like I¡¯ve got fangs?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not. I¡¯m just standing here. You¡¯re the one who¡¯s crowding into my space.¡¯


    His eyes scanned my face, slow and knowing. Heughed under his breath. ¡®You¡¯re bricking it. And now you¡¯re pretending you¡¯re not.¡¯


    That smug look made my throat tighten.


    I took a step forward.


    He didn¡¯t move.


    I stepped again, into his space this time.


    ¡®We¡¯re both adults,¡¯ I said, chin up. ¡®What exactly am I supposed to be afraid of?¡¯


    He lifted his brows, didn¡¯t answer, but that smirk pulled wider.


    This time, he stepped back.


    One slow pace, like he was humouring me. Like he could¡¯ve stood his ground easily, but didn¡¯t need to.


    ¡®So... not scared I¡¯ll try something?¡¯


    ¡®Obviously not,¡¯ I snapped.


    He chuckled and reached for my wrist, fingers warm around my skin. ¡®Come on then.¡¯


    He led me into his bedroom.


    The bed was oversized, duvet crisp and tucked in perfectly, pillows piled invitingly at the head.


    ¡®Right,¡¯ I said. ¡®Shower time.¡¯


    I grabbed my stuff and ducked into the en-suite.


    After a quick shower, I wiped down the counter and hung the towel, even pushed stray hairs into the bin.


    I didn¡¯t leave a single thing out of ce.


    When I came out, he was in the low armchair by the bed, a tablet on hisp.


    He didn¡¯t look up, but I caught the flicker in his eyes.


    I went for full-coverage cotton pyjamas tonight, top buttoned up to my throat, hem tucked neatly into the waistband.


    I dried my hair with a towel and nodded towards the en-suite. ¡®I¡¯m done. Go ahead.¡¯


    ¡®Want help with your hair?¡¯


    ¡®Nope. I¡¯ve got it.¡¯


    He got up and walked past me into the bathroom.


    The door shut behind him with a soft click.


    When he came out, his hair was damp and pushed back.


    He¡¯d swapped the suit for a ck T-shirt and drawstring trousers.


    I was already in bed, pressed against the far edge like there was a border patrol on my left.


    I kept my eyes open. Barely.


    My eyelids drooped.


    Still, I made a point of being awake when he came out.


    He dimmed the lights to a low orange glow and climbed in on his side.


    ¡®Want to put a ss of water in the middle? Maybe aser tripwire?¡¯

 Chapter 176 - 177 Sleep Buddy

    <h4>Chapter 176: Chapter 177 Sleep Buddy</h4>


    ¡®Very funny,¡¯ I muttered. ¡®Just go to sleep.¡¯


    He flicked themp off.


    Silence.


    The gap between us could¡¯ve fit three grown adults.


    Each of us had our own duvet.


    Not even a wrinkle crossed the invisible line.


    I opened one eye.


    The dark made it hard to see, but after a minute, my sight adjusted.


    He was lying t, hands tucked under his pillow, breathing slow and even.


    I stared.


    He didn¡¯t move.


    It was unsettling.


    He was being... well-behaved. Too well-behaved.


    He usually insisted on a kiss.


    Or some dumb excuse to touch my face.


    I stayed awake, waiting.


    Nothing.


    Eventually, my eyes burned.


    I tried to hold them open.


    I lost.


    Sleep dragged me under before I could work out what the hell he was plotting.


    Sometime in the morning, I blinked awake.


    My face was pressed against bare skin. Warm, smooth, and definitely not a pillow.


    My arm was hooked over a chest that rose and fell in slow, steady breaths.


    His chin grazed the top of my head.


    My leg was draped over his hip like I¡¯d lost all sense of self-respect in the night.


    I stared at Ashton¡¯s throat and waited for the rest of me to wake up and exin how the hell this had happened.


    His arm tightened around my waist. His voice was half-asleep. ¡®You crawled over in the middle of the night. I tried to stop you.¡¯


    I shoved at his shoulder. ¡®Bullshit.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m serious.¡¯ He didn¡¯t open his eyes. ¡®You were like a heat-seeking missile. I nearly fell off the edge.¡¯


    I nced over his shoulder.


    He was one bad roll away fromnding on the floor.


    We were both tucked on the left side of the bed, under his duvet.


    Which made no sense.


    I¡¯d gone to sleep hugging my edge, wrapped in my own nket, chanting in my head that I was not, under any circumstances, allowed to touch him.


    And yet here I was.


    He gave a martyred sigh. ¡®You stole my nket. Took over half the bed. Nearly killed me. Then woke up and red like I wronged you.¡¯


    I squinted at him. ¡®Fine. I¡¯ll be more careful next time.¡¯


    ¡®Good.¡¯ He yanked me closer, one hand syed across my spine. ¡®Now shut up and go back to sleep.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t move again.


    And for some reason, neither did I.


    The next few nights, I kept going to his room.


    It was easier than pretending I wanted to be anywhere else.


    He didn¡¯t try anything.


    No wandering hands, no weird suggestions.


    Just sleep.


    Every night, same deal.


    In the mornings, I always woke up in the same ce, warm,fortable, pinned against a wall of muscle and heat.


    After a while, I stopped thinking of it as his bed.


    It just became the ce I slept.


    He¡¯d basically be my designated sleep buddy, I thought.


    But I knew better than to tell him that.


    Over breakfast, I told him, ¡®I¡¯ve got that designpetitioning up. The Aureate Awards. It¡¯s in Riverbend.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s hours away. When are you leaving?¡¯


    ¡®The event¡¯s on the third. I¡¯m flying out the day before.¡¯


    He set his phone down. ¡®Leave earlier. I¡¯ve got meetings at the LGH site in Riverbend. I¡¯m flying there tomorrow morning. Come with me.¡¯


    I shrugged. ¡®Sure. I¡¯ve never been. Might as well go poke around.¡¯


    Riverbend was a seaside city that looked like a screensaver.


    Mid-twenties weather all year.


    Palm trees, fancy vis, streets that probably smelled like sunscreen.


    Tourist central, especially during winter.


    Thepetition organisers had picked it for that exact reason¡ªeasy press, guaranteed crowd, every photo perfectly backlit.


    The next morning, we flew out at eight.


    Wended just after noon.


    The second I stepped onto the tarmac, sunlight smacked me across the face.


    Sharp, blinding heat.


    My jumper instantly became a prison.


    ¡®Why the hell did I wear wool?¡¯ I muttered. ¡®I should¡¯ve just brought a T-shirt.¡¯


    Ashton had both our suitcases.


    I caught up, yanking off my jumper and tying it around my waist.


    The terminal was packed.


    Noisy, sweaty, impatient.


    College students everywhere, some with rucksacks, some with glitter on their faces.


    It looked like a festival had thrown up all over the arrival lounge.


    I stopped dead. ¡®Shit.¡¯


    Ashton asked, ¡®What?¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s New Year¡¯s Eve. Tonight. I forgot.¡¯


    ¡®And?¡¯


    ¡®And Riverbend does huge countdown events. Like, fireworks, parades, DJs on the beach. I saw it on TikTok. That¡¯s why this ce is rammed. They¡¯re all here to party.¡¯


    Ashton looked around at the chaos.


    Someone tripped over his suitcase.


    A girl in sparkly boots screamed something about tequ.


    ¡®Good timing then,¡¯ Ashton said. ¡®We get to see the celebration up close.¡¯


    I elbowed him. ¡®You nned this. Don¡¯t even lie.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t deny it.


    A kid bolted past and mmed into my hip before I saw himing.


    I stumbled sideways, caught my bnce, and turned just in time to see him disappear into the crowd.


    A woman¡ªmid-thirties, sweaty, frantic¡ªsnatched him by the hood and shouted a string of apologies over her shoulder.


    ¡®Jesus,¡¯ I muttered, brushing my jumper.


    Ashton caught my hand. ¡®It¡¯s packed. Stay close.¡¯


    Iced my fingers through his.


    We walked out together.


    A ck SUV waited at the kerb, idling with the air con on st.


    I climbed in and pulled the door shut.


    Cold air hit me like a p.


    I sank into the seat and exhaled.


    ¡®Finally. I¡¯ve been sweating since baggage im. How is it this hot in December?¡¯


    Ashton got in on the other side and nodded at the driver. ¡®Let¡¯s go.¡¯ Then to me, ¡®There¡¯s clothes in the bag. You¡¯ll want to change.¡¯


    ¡®We heading to the hotel now?¡¯


    He handed me a water bottle. ¡®No hotel. I¡¯ve got a ce here.¡¯


    ¡®Of course you do.¡¯


    He smiled, then stretched his legs out and closed his eyes.


    I passed out somewhere along the drive and woke up when the car stopped.


    Outside, a two-storey house stood behind a low white gate.


    It wasn¡¯t shy. Small garden, wooden shutters, greenwn with patches of yellow flowers.


    The air smelled like soil and cut grass.


    No traffic noise. Just wind and some bird making a racket near the roof.


    I got out and blinked at the sun.


    It felt like spring.

 Chapter 177 - 178 New Year’s Eve

    <h4>Chapter 177: Chapter 178 New Year¡¯s Eve</h4>


    I headed upstairs and opened the first door I found.


    A walk-in wardrobe.


    The shelves were full. Not just stocked¡ªstuffed.


    Dresses, tops, sandals, a dozen different pairs of sunsses.


    All my sizes.


    Every piece was something I¡¯d actually wear.


    I grabbed a pale green T-shirt from the rail and pulled on a pair of white trackies.


    My hair was a mess from the flight, so I yanked it all up into a bun, tied it tight, and checked my reflection.


    Casual. Clean. Sort of... annoyingly cheerful.


    Whatever. Everyone at the airport looked like they were auditioning for a beach holiday.


    I could try blending in for once.


    Downstairs, I walked straight up to Ashton, spun once, then turned back around. ¡®Well?¡¯


    He stared for a second too long. ¡®You look good.¡¯


    Then he disappeared upstairs.


    Ten minutester, I heard footsteps.


    I looked up and nearly choked.


    ¡®Are you serious?¡¯


    He was wearing the same outfit. Same green shirt. Same white joggers. Same trainers, down to the stripe on the heel.


    Ashton reached the bottom step and paused like he was on a runway.


    His usual wardrobe lived somewhere between ¡®funeral¡¯ and ¡®hostile boardroom¡¯.


    Mostly ck, all tailored, all giving off power vibes.


    Now he looked... younger.


    Not in a weird Botox way.


    Just... less uptight.


    He cocked his head. ¡®You¡¯re staring.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m adjusting,¡¯ I said. ¡®You walk down the street like that, people are gonna think you¡¯re neen.¡¯


    He grinned. ¡®That makes you what, sixteen?¡¯


    He flicked the tip of my nose.


    I stepped back and scowled. ¡®Why are you dressed like me?¡¯


    He shrugged. ¡®Grabbed the first thing I saw. This was on top.¡¯


    ¡®Liar.¡¯


    ¡®Innocent,¡¯ he said, already pulling me towards the front door. ¡®Come on. Food.¡¯


    I let him hold my hand, but narrowed my eyes. ¡®Aren¡¯t you here for meetings or something? You walk into a conference room like that, no one¡¯s going to take you seriously. Not unless you¡¯re a tech genius.¡¯


    ¡®No meetings today. Might have er. We¡¯ll see. Right now¡ªfood.¡¯


    ¡®Fine.¡¯


    We waited nearly forty minutes for a table at the restaurant I picked, some influencer-hyped spot with nts hanging from the ceiling and tiny tes that looked like they¡¯d been arranged by a drunk roon.


    The food was nd as hell. No seasoning, no texture, no point.


    Waste of a queue.


    Somewhere between his second bite of undercooked sea bass and my failed attempt to chew through a mystery leaf, I heard the girls at the next table talking.


    ¡®Midtown Crossing¡¯s doing a countdown party tonight.¡¯


    My ears perked up.


    Ashton caught it. ¡®You want to go?¡¯


    I nodded. ¡®It¡¯s once a year. Might as well pretend we¡¯re fun.¡¯


    ¡®Then we¡¯re going.¡¯


    After we escaped the sad food experience, neither of us felt like heading back to the house.


    We walked to a cinema instead and grabbed thest two seats for some horror film with a name that sounded like a prescription drug.


    Inside was packed.


    People were crammed together, arms bumping over armrests, popcorn spilling everywhere.


    Ashton held onto my hand the whole time, kept me behind him when we queued, like I might get trampled by teenagers in denim jackets.


    The film was trash.


    Predictable, cheap jump scares, blood that looked like ketchup.


    At one point, a zombieunched out of a wardrobe and Ashton actually flinched.


    I burst outughing.


    He leaned in and muttered, ¡®That¡¯s not funny.¡¯


    ¡®You screamed.¡¯


    ¡®I didn¡¯t scream.¡¯


    ¡®You absolutely did.¡¯


    He pinched my thigh, and I almost snorted my drink.


    When we left the cinema, the sky was already dark.


    The streemps were on, casting yellow light down the pavements, and my phone screen lit up as I scrolled for food.


    ¡®Found another viral restaurant,¡¯ I said. ¡®This one looks better. At least their photos don¡¯t feature edible foam.¡¯ I looked at Ashton. ¡®Will you trust me one more time?¡¯


    ¡®Lead the way,¡¯ he said simply.


    It was close to Midtown Crossing.


    We headed that way.


    As we crossed the street, three girls came barrelling toward us, still filming themselves on a selfie stick.


    One of them smacked straight into me.


    ¡®Oh my god, I¡¯m so sorry!¡¯ she blurted, yanking the stick down.


    ¡®It¡¯s fine. Just... watch it next time.¡¯


    She froze. Her eyes widened. ¡®Wait. I know you. Aren¡¯t you MVanceJewels? The designer? Mira Joie?¡¯


    The other two turned immediately.


    ¡®No way!¡¯


    ¡®We follow all your posts. I love your sketches. I save every one.¡¯


    ¡®We bought your bracelets! Look!¡¯


    They shoved their wrists at me, stacked with identical bracelets.


    I recognised my design. ¡®Yeah, that¡¯s me. d you like the pieces. Thanks for the support.¡¯


    The girl in the middle pped once and actually bounced in ce. ¡®We don¡¯t just like your stuff. We love your face. Briana¡¯s obsessed with you.¡¯


    They shoved the smallest girl forward.


    She looked like she wanted to crawl into the pavement.


    Brianaughed nervously. ¡®I just think you¡¯re really pretty. Prettier than half the actresses on TV. When Octavia Grey posted that selfie with you, I followed you straight away. You look better in real life. You could totally be a beauty influencer. Or a model. Or an actress. You should go famous for real.¡¯


    She kept going. Rambling, flushed, beaming.


    I stood there, slightly stunned.


    For a second, I didn¡¯t know where to put my hands.


    Most of my followers on Instagram and X had only clicked ¡®follow¡¯ after Octavia tagged me in that viral photo.


    My posts barely scraped thirty likes unless I showed a sketch or mentioned gemstones.


    That one bracelet drop had gone semi-viral, but I wasn¡¯t exactly a household name.


    I never expected to run into real fans.


    I gave Briana a quick grin. ¡®That¡¯s very sweet of you. Thank you.¡¯


    ¡®Can we get a photo with you?¡¯ she asked hopefully.


    ¡®Sure.¡¯


    I took a selfie with each of them and a group shot too.


    They were loud and shameless about it,ughing, nudging, posing like we were all drunk cousins at a reunion.


    We were standing on a busy street near Midtown Crossing.


    Heads turned.


    A few passers-by slowed down.


    Someone asked, ¡®Who¡¯s she?¡¯


    More people wandered over.


    I heard a guy behind me say, ¡®Is that the designer from that bracelet post?¡¯


    And just like that, I was surrounded.

 Chapter 178 - 179 Jealous

    <h4>Chapter 178: Chapter 179 Jealous</h4>


    The crowd thickened fast.


    Half of them didn¡¯t even know who I was, just saw phones shing and assumed I was somebody worth filming.


    One woman actually elbowed a man out of the way so she could snap a photo over my shoulder.


    Someone brushed against my coat.


    Another girl asked me to sign her canvas tote bag with a borrowed Sharpie.


    I hadn¡¯t even noticed Ashton had disappeared.


    When I finally nced around, he was standing alone by a metal bench in the middle of the pedestrian zone, arms folded, watching the crowd like he was ready to punch someone.


    I caught his eye.


    He straightened instantly, dropped the scowl and put on his most neutral expression.


    It was the fakest look I¡¯d ever seen on him.


    I raised one eyebrow.


    He gave me a shallow nod, like he wasn¡¯t currently burning holes in every person who got within three feet of me.


    I went back to the girls, who had now started trying to guess which gemstone matched my ¡®vibe¡¯.


    Five more minutes passed.


    Then ten.


    Then some guy asked if I was single.


    His mateughed like it was the cleverest thing anyone had ever said.


    Another phone was pushed at me.


    I heard it before I saw him.


    Heavy footsteps,ing fast. Then fingers closed around my wrist and yanked.


    ¡®Oi, what the hell?¡¯ one of the girls snapped.


    ¡®You can¡¯t just grab her!¡¯


    ¡®Who even are you?¡¯


    Ashton turned to face the loudest ones in the crowd.


    He lifted his left hand and showed them the ring.


    Then he did the same with my hand.


    Behind us, someone shouted, ¡®Wait, who the hell was that? Is she safe?¡¯


    ¡®Did you not see the rings? And the matching clothes. They¡¯re a couple.¡¯


    ¡®He didn¡¯t like us crowding her. That was a warning.¡¯


    ¡®Forget it, they¡¯re gone. Let¡¯s go check the pop-up across the street¡ª¡¯


    Ashton moved fast.


    My arm was still in his grip, and his legs were longer than mine.


    I had to jog to keep up.


    ¡®What¡¯s going on?¡¯ I asked. ¡®Why are we leaving?¡¯


    His voice was clipped. ¡®We¡¯re going to miss the countdown.¡¯


    I looked at the time. ¡®We¡¯ve got hours. They were just fans. That was literally the friendliest group I¡¯ve ever met.¡¯


    He kept walking, jaw tight. ¡®I¡¯m starving.¡¯


    ¡®Fine,¡¯ I said.


    I turned around for onest look.


    A girl with red braids waved her phone in the air.


    ¡®She wanted to know what lipstick shade I was wearing.¡¯


    He snorted. ¡®You don¡¯t know what people like that are nning. You should stop posting selfies. Stick to your design sketches. Less chance of someone stealing your face for something dodgy.¡¯


    I stopped in the middle of the pavement.


    The wind hit my cheeks.


    I stared at him.


    He never used to care about that sort of thing.


    And he definitely didn¡¯t used to sound that pissy.


    I burst outughing. ¡®Oh my God. You¡¯re jealous. You¡¯re actually mad.¡¯


    His ears flushed.


    He grabbed my hand and charged ahead again. ¡®I¡¯m not. I said we¡¯re getting food.¡¯


    ¡®Fine, fine,¡¯ I said, stillughing. ¡®We¡¯re getting food.¡¯


    ***


    We¡¯d just finished ate dinner and were walking through Midtown Crossing, hand in hand.


    The square was packed¡ªshoulders brushing, phones up, people shouting over each other.


    Most were clustered under the giant screen in the centre, waiting for the countdown.


    I was fine until the crowd shifted.


    Out of nowhere, people started sprinting towards the screen like there was money flying out of it.


    One man elbowed past me, another shoved Ashton from the side.


    Someone mmed right between us and knocked our hands apart.


    His palm disappeared from mine.


    The air hit my skin where his hand had been.


    I turned fast, heart hammering.


    Ashton was still nearby, just to my right, maybe three or four people away.


    He spotted me instantly.


    ¡®Ashton!¡¯ I shouted, trying to push through, but the mass between us refused to give.


    He shoved forward.


    I darted sideways.


    Each time I moved, someone blocked me.


    Every time I blinked, someone new was in the way.


    We were so close I could see the crease in his brow, the way his jaw clenched when he looked at me.


    The clock ticked 23:59.


    I was sweating. Not from heat, from trying not to panic.


    ¡®Stay there! I¡¯ming to you!¡¯ he yelled.


    His voice cut through the screaming.


    He started pushing people aside, arm after arm, like he didn¡¯t care whoined.


    His eyes locked on mine and didn¡¯t move once.


    I pushed forward, breath short, dodging arms and backs and hair.


    Someone spilt beer on my shirt.


    I didn¡¯t stop.


    Behind me, the screen red white.


    A booming voice shouted: ¡®Ten! Nine! Eight!¡¯


    The crowd eased.


    People stopped running.


    Phones shot up.


    I saw Ashton.


    ¡®Seven! Six!¡¯


    I ran.


    My boots hit the pavement hard.


    One step, two, someone grabbed their kid and opened a gap.


    ¡®Five! Four! Three!¡¯


    I ducked between a couple snogging against a barrier.


    ¡®Two!¡¯


    His hand reached out.


    ¡®One!¡¯


    I shoved past thest body between us and mmed into Ashton¡¯s chest just as the crowd screamed out the final second.


    The square lit up in a burst of white.


    Floodlights snapped on from every direction, blinding and sharp.


    People shouted, jumped, hugged strangers.


    Someone behind me yelled so loud my eardrums rang.


    Ashton locked his arms around me like he wasn¡¯t letting go.


    I grabbed the back of his shirt and held on.


    The screen above us shed red and gold.


    Three massive words flickered on it, bold and glowing.


    ¡®Happy New Year.¡¯


    Dozens of voices shouted it from all sides, ovepping and echoing.


    I heard Ashton¡¯s breath close to my ear.


    ¡®Happy New Year,¡¯ he said.


    I looked past his shoulder.


    Fireworks shot into the sky and exploded behind him, sharp, bright, fast.


    Blue, green, white.


    The smoke trailed in jagged lines that blurred into the ck.


    Everything else fell away.


    I couldn¡¯t feel the cold or the weight of people shoving past.


    Just him.

 Chapter 179 - 180 Falling for Him

    <h4>Chapter 179: Chapter 180 Falling for Him</h4>


    I stood on my toes and pressed my mouth to his.


    My lips touched the edge of his smile.


    ¡®Happy New Year.¡¯


    We left Midtown Crossing half an hourter.


    Everything looked strange.


    The streets were the same, but wrong.


    My hands were numb from the cold.


    My ears were still buzzing.


    I couldn¡¯t tell if it was the wind or my brain shorting out.


    By the time we got back, my legs were cramping so badly I had to lean on the counter to get my boots off.


    I nearly passed out in the shower.


    The water was too hot and I didn¡¯t care.


    I crawled into bed, shut the light, and stared at the ceiling.


    I turned over once.


    Twice.


    Closed my eyes.


    Opened them again.


    My brain kept reying Midtown¡ªhis face in the floodlights, the noise, the heat, the way my body mmed into his like I¡¯d been waiting all year for it.


    I kicked off the nket and rolled onto my stomach.


    A knock came from the door.


    Three short taps.


    ¡®Can Ie in?¡¯ Ashton¡¯s voice was quiet.


    I sat up.


    My hair stuck to the side of my cheek.


    ¡®Yeah. What¡¯s wrong?¡¯


    He opened the door and stepped in, arms crossed like he didn¡¯t trust himself not to touch anything.


    ¡®I can¡¯t sleep.¡¯


    I blinked at him. ¡®Okay... and?¡¯


    ¡®So I¡¯m sleeping with you.¡¯


    I stared.


    He added, calmly, ¡®We can take my bed.¡¯


    ¡®Can I say no? It¡¯s not cold in here. The heating works fine.¡¯


    ¡®I wasn¡¯t asking.¡¯


    ¡®Any other options?¡¯ I asked.


    Ashton didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡®We take your bed.¡¯


    I stared at him.


    He stared back like I¡¯d already agreed.


    Isted about four seconds.


    It was almost two in the morning.


    I wasn¡¯t asleep, but my body had started giving up.


    ¡®Fine. Stay here then.¡¯


    He crossed the room in two big strides, peeled back my duvet, and dropped onto the bed.


    He moved so fast I blinked at the ceiling for a second before the mattress dipped under his weight.


    I reached over and switched off themp. ¡®Go to sleep. It¡¯ste.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t feel weird.


    Not at all.


    My body didn¡¯t tense.


    I didn¡¯t shift to the edge of the bed.


    Hey next to me like it was normal.


    Actually, it felt more normal than being alone.


    The bed wasn¡¯t huge, not like his back in Skyline.


    If one of us turned, we¡¯d end up on top of the other.


    So I just gave up and rolled towards him.


    His arm came around my waist like it¡¯d been waiting.


    He held me like he¡¯d done it a hundred times before.


    I¡¯d spent an hour failing to sleep.


    Now Iy against his chest and yawned.


    Just before I drifted off, I saw Midtown again.


    His face under the lights, the crush of people, the fireworks.


    That kiss.


    ***


    I didn¡¯t go anywhere for the next two days.


    I stayed inside and worked.


    Drew until my fingers cramped.


    Reviewed my old notes.


    Sorted through reference shots I¡¯d ignored for weeks.


    The contest deadline was too close to screw around.


    Ashton stayed too.


    Barefoot most of the time, wearing T-shirts and living on coffee.


    I asked him why he wasn¡¯t working.


    He shrugged it off every time, then muttered something about a stalled project and no new tasks.


    I didn¡¯t press.


    I liked the quiet.


    My favourite spot was the swing in the back garden.


    I went out there every evening with a mug of ginger tea, let the wind hit my legs, and rocked until I forgot I was supposed to be stressed.


    The chain creaked with every swing, the breeze smelled like pine and wet soil, and the air made my skin cool and tight.


    The house in Skyline had a swing too, but it¡¯d been too bloody cold out to use it.


    In Riverbend, the evenings were warmer. The breeze didn¡¯t bite.


    The swing here was built for two. Wide seat, solid frame, faded white paint along the armrest.


    Sometimes I sat there alone, with a pencil between my fingers and my sketchbook open on myp.


    Sometimes Ashton joined me.


    The air moved slowly back here. No car horns. No alerts pinging off our phones every three minutes.


    We¡¯d left all of that behind.


    I used to catch myself staring at him when we sat out there.


    His profile was sharper in the low light, jawline shadowed, the sun casting an orange streak across his cheekbone.


    His hands always rested loosely on his knees.


    His lips didn¡¯t move unless I spoke first.


    I wished time could stand still, freeze at this moment, in this house, forever.


    I¡¯d told myself not to feel anything. Not to fall for him first.


    But I couldn¡¯t stop.


    Somewhere between the silence and the space he left me, I¡¯d stopped watching and started wanting.


    I was falling for him. No¡ªalready fallen.


    And I wasn¡¯t stupid enough to call it anything else.


    I told myself I¡¯d deal with it after thepetition.


    I¡¯d give him a proper answer.


    ***


    January third. The day of the finals.


    Eight hours, nine a.m. to five p.m., no breaks, no stepping out.


    Twenty of us had made it this far.


    Best of the best, supposedly.


    Each of us had our own cubicle. No phones. No talking. No peeking at anyone else¡¯s desk.


    We had to sketch a full design from scratch.


    After that, we¡¯d present our concept and get our first score.


    Then the judges would go behind closed doors, argue, ande back with a second one.


    The scores were weighted. First and second roundsbined.


    Winner takes all.


    The venue was a fancy conference centre on the east edge of Riverbend, ss everywhere, heating too high, lobby packed with brand sponsors pretending they weren¡¯t watching.


    Ashton drove me there.


    We arrived at eight sharp.


    I sat in the passenger seat, clutching the strap of my bag.


    ¡®I think I¡¯m a little nervous,¡¯ I said, staring at the building like it might bite.

 Chapter 180 - 181 Competition

    <h4>Chapter 180: Chapter 181 Competition</h4>


    Ashton squeezed my fingers. ¡®Take it easy. I¡¯lle sit in on the presentationter if I¡¯m free.¡¯


    I walked in alone.


    The registration staff scanned my badge and made me dump my phone, smart watch, even the fitness tracker I never used.


    No contact with the outside world for the next eight hours.


    My room was a box, maybe twelve square metres, walls painted off-white, no windows.


    One metal chair, one worktable, a stylus tablet bolted to the surface.


    In the corner, there was a toilet tucked behind a sliding door.


    At exactly nine, the screen lit up.


    Three sets of words appeared in block text:


    [Evening g. Gemstones. Composure.]


    We had to design four matching pieces¡ªring, ne, earrings, bracelet.


    I stared at those words for a few seconds.


    Then I smiled.


    I¡¯d thought of this theme before.


    Not the exactbination, but close.


    Lucky guess.


    Or maybe my instincts weren¡¯t total crap.


    Either way, I already had two concepts ready in my head.


    I picked the first.


    The ne came out fast.


    I drew a structured Y-shaped drop cor with a hidden sp and a graduatedyout of baguette-cut aquamarines tapering into a central pendant.


    tinum base, tension-set frame, negative space along the corbones for bnce.


    No curves. Everything sharp, symmetrical.


    When I looked up at the time stamp in the corner of the screen, it said ten o¡¯clock.


    I leaned back, stretched my arms behind my head.


    Felt smug for maybe half a second¡ªuntil something started nagging at me.


    That ne should¡¯ve taken two hours.


    Always did.


    It was the slowest part of my process.


    I never finished it first. Never that quickly.


    I looked around the room again.


    There was no clock. No way to double-check anything.


    The tablet wasn¡¯t connected to the inte.


    I couldn¡¯t even pull up a browser.


    And if the tablet was wrong¡ªif the time was off¡ªthen I had no way of pacing the rest of my designs.


    I¡¯d be flying blind for the next several hours.


    I got up and tried the door.


    It didn¡¯t budge.


    The lock clicked from the outside, standard for this type ofpetition.


    Noing or going once the round started.


    I knocked.


    Then I raised my voice.


    No one answered.


    The ceiling had a tiny camera wedged into the corner above the doorframe, blinking red at regr intervals.


    I looked straight into the lens. ¡®Hey. I need someone out here. Something¡¯s wrong with the clock.¡¯


    Nothing.


    I sat back down, shut my eyes for a second, and pulled in three deep breaths, trying to shake the twitchy feeling out of my hands.


    The tablet said noon.


    I didn¡¯t believe it.


    It had to be closer to one. Maybe two.


    I picked up the stylus and pushed forward, scribbling fast.


    I couldn¡¯t afford to stop.


    By the time the clock on the screen ticked over to 12:00, I¡¯d finished rough drafts for all four pieces.


    Line weights were uneven, detailing half-finished, but the base structures were solid enough to refine.


    Then I heard footsteps outside.


    The lock turned.


    Octavia Grey walked in and grinned.


    ¡®Hey, darling. The organisers sent me to do a little judge-and-greet. How¡¯s the sketching going?¡¯


    I stood up so fast my chair scraped against the floor. ¡®Octavia. Thank god. What time is it?¡¯


    She checked her watch. ¡®Quarter to two. Why?¡¯


    I stared at her. ¡®It says noon on my screen.¡¯


    She blinked once, then strode over and squinted at the corner of the tablet. ¡®Shit. You¡¯re right. Has no onee in to give you lunch? They should¡¯ve done that around half past twelve.¡¯


    I shook my head. ¡®No one.¡¯


    Our eyes met.


    Hers narrowed.


    If the clock was wrong and lunch never came, someone was deliberately fucking with my time cues¡ªslowing me down, throwing off my pace, pushing me to misjudge how much work I had left.


    Most designers get so locked in during sketching they don¡¯t pay attention to the clock.


    Someone had been counting on that.


    ¡®Sabotage,¡¯ Octavia said.


    I nodded.


    She stormed out, mmed the door behind her. ¡®I¡¯m going to find out which petty bastard thought this was a good idea.¡¯


    Ten minutester, she came back with a small crowd.


    The one leading them was tall, blonde, and clearly in charge.


    Sharp grey suit, narrow heels, hard stare.


    She stood a full head taller than Octavia and introduced herself with a clipped ent.


    ¡®I¡¯m Dr Ali¨¦nor Dubois, one of the directors in charge of thepetition. Let me take a look.¡¯


    She grabbed the tablet off my desk, scanned the disy, tapped through a few settings.


    Her brows lifted.


    ¡®There¡¯s definitely a problem with the time sync.¡¯


    A guy in the back, maybe mid-twenties, short hair and aminated badge, stepped forward.


    ¡®Our group handled the equipment orders. Everything was working fine when we brought it in. I don¡¯t know how this could¡¯ve happened.¡¯


    I stared at him. ¡®You¡¯re saying I tampered with it myself? Why the hell would I do that?¡¯


    He stammered a bit. ¡®Um, no, I didn¡¯t mean that. Maybe it was a faulty batch. Or a manufacturer defect¡ª¡¯


    I just stared until he shut up.


    The room went quiet.


    Dr Dubois cleared her throat. ¡®It appears to have been an oversight. We¡¯ll get Miss Vance a new tablet immediately.¡¯


    Octavia cut in, ¡®This wasn¡¯t a bloody oversight. I¡¯ve never seen a tablet glitch in just the clock function. Everything else working fine? And if they were all from the same shipment, why was hers the only one acting up?¡¯


    Dr Dubois looked her straight in the eye. ¡®What exactly are you suggesting?¡¯


    ¡®That someone tampered with it. Intentionally. And if Mirabelle hadn¡¯t caught it, she¡¯d have missed the deadline. Who¡¯s going to take responsibility for that?¡¯ She didn¡¯t wait for an answer. ¡®And where the hell was the lunch delivery at half past twelve? No one came to this room.¡¯


    A girl near the back stepped forward.


    Skinny, nervous, barely old enough to rent a car.


    ¡®That was my fault, sorry. I was supposed to deliver it. This room¡¯s tucked way in the corner and I just... forgot.¡¯


    Her eyes were red already.


    ¡®Absolutely not. That¡¯s not an eptable exnation,¡¯ Octavia said sharply.

 Chapter 181 - 182 Suspicion

    <h4>Chapter 181: Chapter 182 Suspicion</h4>


    Dr Dubois raised her hand. ¡®Let¡¯s discuss this outside. Miss Vance should get back to her design¡ª¡¯


    A guy burst in before she could finish.


    He leaned in and murmured something directly into her ear.


    Dr Dubois stiffened.


    Her eyes moved, once to me, once to Octavia, then back again.


    ¡®The feed from this room¡¯s surveince was cut as soon as you entered, Miss Grey. It came back when you stepped out to find us.¡¯


    Octavia narrowed her eyes. ¡®You want to run that by me again?¡¯


    ¡®We couldn¡¯t see what was happening in here. Which gives us reason to suspect collusion between you and Miss Vance.¡¯


    I couldn¡¯t believe my ears. ¡®You think we hacked the system so I could cheat?¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s correct,¡¯ Dubois said, nodding once. ¡®Surveince is in ce to ensure fairness. We have staff watching in real time. But this feed went ck. We have no idea what took ce during that window.¡¯


    Octavia¡¯s hands mmed onto the table. ¡®What kind of amateur setup is this? The tablet malfunctions, no one brings the meal on time, and now you¡¯re pinning your tech failure on me? Do I look like I moonlight as a hacker?¡¯


    ¡®Please calm down,¡¯ Dubois said stiffly. ¡®Given your frequent online interactions with Miss Vance, we¡¯re aware of your close rapport. We believe you may have provided her with external input¡ªsketches, design references¡ªsomething that couldpromise the integrity of thepetition.¡¯


    Octavia exhaled through her teeth. ¡®I was in here for under a minute. If I¡¯d wanted to cheat, I would¡¯ve needed a hell of a lot more time. This isplete fabrication. Don¡¯t shove the me on me because you can¡¯t run your own event.¡¯


    I held up the tablet. ¡®The sketches were done before she came in. Every stroke¡¯s timestamped. She wasn¡¯t in here long enough to pass me anything, let alone for me to use it.¡¯


    ¡®Exactly!¡¯ Octavia snapped. ¡®Ah, now I see. They dragged me in here for a reason. They¡¯d already decided to pin the whole thing on me.¡¯


    Everyone turned to look at the tablet in my hands.


    Fourpleted designs glowed on the screen¡ªcoloured stones, detailed mounts, precise annotations.


    Someone near the door gave a low whistle.


    Another leaned in for a better look.


    Dubois¡¯s mouth twitched, tightened, then rxed again.


    That flicker of surprise vanished as quickly as it came.


    ¡®Regardless, this doesn¡¯t eliminate the suspicion. Miss Vance, you have two options. First, void the current designs. You¡¯ll redraw everything under full surveince. No extra time will be given.¡¯


    The tablet felt heavier in my grip.


    There were maybe three hours left.


    I spoke slowly. ¡®And the second option?¡¯


    ¡®Immediate disqualification.¡¯


    ¡®On what grounds?¡¯


    Dubois shrugged. ¡®My hands are tied. We have to protect the integrity of thepetition. Letting you continue when there¡¯s a possibility of cheating would be unfair to the others.¡¯


    ¡®using me without proof is what¡¯s actually unfair.¡¯


    She shook her head, patronising. ¡®It¡¯s not an usation. It¡¯s just suspicion at this stage, but it¡¯s going to affect the rest of the contestants. If you truly cared about this craft, you¡¯d approach the contest with honesty. Not shortcuts.¡¯


    ¡®Oh, fuck off. I didn¡¯t take shortcuts, and I didn¡¯t cheat. Thispetition means everything to me. I¡¯d never sabotage it. You know that. You know I didn¡¯t do anything wrong.¡¯


    Octavia nodded. ¡®Yeah!¡¯


    I straightened my shoulders and stared right at Dubois. ¡®And I wouldn¡¯t need to cheat. I can out-design every one of those other contestants in my sleep. What would I even gain?¡¯


    ¡®The footage cuts out exactly when Miss Grey entered. Just here, nowhere else. Exin that.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s your system failure, not mine.¡¯ I shrugged. ¡®I¡¯m not here to exin your tech problems. You think I cheated? Prove it. Otherwise, stop acting like the victim owes you an exnation.¡¯


    Octavia chimed in, ¡®Exactly. You think we pulled off some borate scheme in sixty seconds? Then you¡¯d better tell us what, exactly, you think happened.¡¯


    Dubois¡¯s gaze dropped to the floor for a second before she straightened up again.


    ¡®Fine. We¡¯ll open a formal inquiry. We¡¯ll find out whether the equipment failed or if Miss Grey used a signal jammer. But¡¯¡ªshe gave a short, smugugh¡ª¡®an investigation takes time. If you refuse to submit a new draft now, we¡¯ll take that as a voluntary withdrawal.¡¯


    Octavia tugged me aside. ¡®This whole setup reeks. I smell a trap. Screw them, let¡¯s walk. Don¡¯t let them treat you like shit.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t move. ¡®If I walk now, I¡¯m handing them the narrative. That¡¯s as good as admitting guilt.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯ve got three hours. Can you even pull off a brand-new concept in that time?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll try. I didn¡¯te all this way to roll over.¡¯


    I turned back to Dubois.


    ¡®I¡¯ll stay. I¡¯ll draw something new. But you¡¯d better get to the bottom of the surveince issue. If you don¡¯te back with hard proof that we sabotaged anything, then you¡¯ve ndered me, and I will take legal action the second thispetition ends.¡¯


    Dubois gave a clipped nod. ¡®Fine. That¡¯s settled.¡¯


    She reached for the tablet in my hands. ¡®This one¡¯spromised. Your original draft is void. We¡¯ll issue a recement.¡¯


    Before she could touch it, Octavia snatched it clean out of her reach.


    ¡®All of Mirabelle¡¯s files are on here. Even if it¡¯s disqualified, it¡¯s still her work. You don¡¯t get to walk off with it.¡¯


    Dubois backed off, reluctantly. ¡®Fine. Keep it.¡¯


    Octavia smirked. ¡®And if the surveince goes dark again, then we both know someone on your end is screwing with her.¡¯


    Dubois narrowed her eyes. ¡®The feed¡¯s back online. It won¡¯t happen again.¡¯


    She turned on her heel and left.


    Octavia hugged me. ¡®You just focus on drawing. I¡¯ll deal with the rest. No way in hell we¡¯re letting this slide.¡¯


    ¡®Thanks.¡¯


    Someone brought me a recement tablet, still warm from the box, and a lunch tray I didn¡¯t touch.


    I shut my eyes.


    Two ideas had been fighting for space in my head earlier.


    I¡¯d gone with the safer one.


    Now I had a chance to sketch the other.


    But the clock was brutal.


    I pulled in a few deep breaths, held thest one, and opened my eyes.


    The nerves didn¡¯t vanish, but my grip on the stylus stopped shaking.


    I didn¡¯t give a shit what Dubois thought I¡¯d done.


    I¡¯d deal with herter.

 Chapter 182 - 183 Ashton’s POV: Back Her Up

    <h4>Chapter 182: Chapter 183 Ashton¡¯s POV: Back Her Up</h4>


    Ashton held the Aureate Awards programme open across hisp, scanning the list of sponsors.


    Up ahead, the freshly built stage gleamed under the overhead lights.


    Contestants would be presenting their concepts there once the clock ran out.


    A rehearsal was in progress¡ªhost on stage, production crew scattered, checking mics and blocking.


    Rows of folding chairs faced the tform, half of them still empty.


    Only a few audience members had filtered in this early.


    ¡®Ashton!¡¯


    He looked up at the sound of his name.


    Octavia jogged up, out of breath. ¡®Your wife¡¯s getting screwed over and no one¡¯s doing a damn thing about it! The organisers aren¡¯t even pretending to investigate. They¡¯ve already decided Mirabelle has cheated. And that I was in on it.¡¯


    Ashton asked her to sit. ¡®Slow down. Start from the beginning.¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯s being set up!¡¯ Octavia ryed what had just happened in Mirabelle¡¯s room.


    He stood. ¡®Who¡¯s the person in charge?¡¯


    ¡®Dubois. Dr Ali¨¦nor Dubois. She¡¯s the one pulling strings. I tried escting, called the investors. They¡¯ve got no clue what¡¯s happening backstage.¡¯


    Ashton picked up the programme, flipped past the judges¡¯ bios,nded on a block of fine print near the back.


    Tristan Hadley. Competition director, overall in charge.


    Not a familiar name.


    But above Hadley¡¯s name was the Lumina Omni Holdings logo.


    He reached into his jacket and took out his phone.


    Octavia leaned over. ¡®You actually know this Tristan guy?¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t,¡¯ Ashton said. ¡®But I know his boss.¡¯


    Ashton dialled.


    The line rang three times before a groggy voice answered.


    ¡®Ashton? You¡¯re calling at this bloody hour for what? It¡¯s morning here. I was asleep.¡¯


    Kian Al-Ahmad, Lumina¡¯s CEO, sounded half-awake and fully annoyed.


    Ashton ignored it. ¡®I need something handled.¡¯


    He gave a clipped summary of the situation.


    Kian swore. ¡®The what awards?¡¯


    ¡®The Aureate. Jewellery design.¡¯


    A pause. Then a tired grunt. ¡®Never heard of it. If it¡¯s under one of mine, it¡¯s probably buried somewhere in a sub-division. I¡¯ve got too manypanies to keep track of small fry like this. And you¡¯re calling me for it?¡¯


    ¡®My wife¡¯s involved. They¡¯ve screwed with her. I¡¯m not wasting time chasing interns. You¡¯re the fastest option.¡¯


    That got Kian¡¯s attention. ¡®Your wife? Like, for real? When did you get married? Hell, why didn¡¯t I get an invite? Don¡¯t tell me our years in Wessexia meant nothing to you. I¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Act now, reminisceter,¡¯ Ashton cut in. ¡®I want a name, a reason, and an oue. I¡¯m at the venue right now.¡¯


    Kian cleared his throat. ¡®Alright. I got this. I¡¯m getting out of bed now. It¡¯s six in the bloody morning, by the way. If that¡¯s not friendship, I don¡¯t know what is.¡¯


    ¡®Good,¡¯ Ashton said. ¡®Get the facts straight first.¡¯


    ¡®Got it.¡¯


    Four minutester, Kian called back.


    ¡®The guy running the show, Tristan Hadley, is over in Riverbend, other side of town. I¡¯ve asked him to haul ass back to the venue. Told him not to fuck around. From now on, he reports to you. Run the event however you want. Shut it down if that¡¯s what it takes.¡¯


    ¡®Got it. Appreciate it.¡¯


    ¡®Good. Remember that when you get married next time and need to pick a best man. Now, unless you¡¯ve got more problems, I¡¯m going back to sleep.¡¯


    Ashton hung up.


    Octavia had been openly eavesdropping. ¡®Well?¡¯


    ¡®We wait for Tristan Hadley. First, he finds out who¡¯s behind this.¡¯


    Less than thirty minutester, Hadley arrived.


    Mid-forties, balding, in an ill-fitted zer.


    He jogged in, forehead soaked, eyes darting.


    He stopped short in front of Ashton and bent slightly at the waist.


    ¡®Mr Laurent, I¡¯m Tristan Hadley. I¡¯ve reviewed the situation. I¡¯ll get someone on the CCTV footage right away.¡¯


    When Ashton didn¡¯t reply, Hadley blinked and adjusted his sses.


    Sweat gathered again at his temples.


    ¡®If there¡¯s anything specific you need from me, I¡¯m at your full disposal.¡¯


    ¡®The footage was tampered with internally. Whoever you send will find exactly what the saboteur wants them to. I want the person behind it. Not the scapegoat. I want the name of whoever directed Dr Ali¨¦nor Dubois.¡¯


    Hadley swallowed audibly. ¡®Understood. I¡¯ll keep it discreet. I¡¯ll find out who¡¯s pulling strings.¡¯


    Ashton gave a faint nod. ¡®You¡¯ve got two hours. That¡¯s when the event ends. If I don¡¯t have an answer by then, I¡¯ll go straight to Mr Al-Ahmad.¡¯


    Hadley flinched. ¡®That¡¯s, uh, that¡¯s not necessary, Mr Laurent. Mr Al-Ahmad is busy. I¡¯m sure we don¡¯t need to bother him with such a trivial matter.¡¯


    ¡®Then you better act fast.¡¯


    ¡®Of course, of course! I¡¯ll have your answer within two hours.¡¯


    Hadley bolted, half-running, half-tripping, until he disappeared backstage.


    ¡®I¡¯ll go keep an eye on that Dubois woman.¡¯ Octavia rose. ¡®Make sure she doesn¡¯t try anything again.¡¯


    Ashton stayed in his seat, unmoving.


    He considered doing what Kian suggested and just pulling the plug on the entirepetition.


    But Octavia had made it clear that Mirabelle had insisted on finishing.


    Even when the odds were stacked against her.


    So Ashton stayed where he was.


    Soon, audience began trickling in.


    A host stepped up to the centre stage.


    The house lights dimmed.


    Everyone quietened.


    Arge screen lit up with the first contestant¡¯s design, and the judges¡¯ tablets buzzed to life.


    Each screen showed a high-resolution rendering, angles, materials list, the usual breakdown.


    Once the contestant finished speaking, the judges began tapping their scores.


    Ashton saw Octavia, seated next to a woman who looked vaguely familiar.


    He knew Octavia wasn¡¯t there for technical credibility.


    She¡¯d been brought in for PR, and her score carried little weight.


    It would be scaled down in the final tally.


    The real authority sat dead-centre: Dr Ali¨¦nor Dubois.


    Ashton noticed the other judges kept checking her reaction before submitting anything.


    Dubois had the room in her grip.


    Ashton shifted in his chair.


    He had no doubt Dubois would lowball Mirabelle the second she had the chance.


    At least Mirabelle had drawn the final slot.


    That bought her a few extra minutes.


    Each presentation was capped at three minutes.


    The pace stayed tight.


    Contestants cycled through quickly, and soon they were down to thest handful.


    Tristan Hadley jogged down the aisle, shoulders hunched.


    He slid into the narrow space beside Ashton.

 Chapter 183 - 184 Livestreamed Squabble

    <h4>Chapter 183: Chapter 184 Livestreamed Squabble</h4>


    Apuse rattled through the hall as the contestant before me stepped down.


    I walked to the centre of the tform.


    The screen behind me buzzed once, then red to life.


    White light burned the edge of my vision.


    My palms were dry; I¡¯d made sure of it.


    I hadn¡¯te all the way here and worked weeks on four hours¡¯ sleep a night just to flinch now.


    I gripped the mic in one hand, theser pointer in the other.


    I began.


    ¡®Good afternoon, judges, guests. I¡¯m Mirabelle Vance.¡¯


    I paused just long enough to force them to look up.


    ¡®The theme: Evening G. Gemstones. Composure. I designed a four-piece set intended for high-profile, high-visibility events. Met-tier, red carpet-ready. But every sp, hinge, and suspension curve is engineered for fullfort. Nothing that requires styling glue or double-sided tape to sit right.¡¯


    I clicked the pointer.


    The ring rotated on the screen.


    ¡®Let¡¯s start with the ring. Cushion-cut Ceylon sapphire, 7.8 carats, zero thermal treatment. Cradled in a tinum w mount. The tapering shank has micro-pav¨¦ spinels¡ªck, not red¡ªto reduce re under sh photography. The undergallery¡¯s open to let the stone breathe.¡¯


    Another click.


    The ne.


    ¡®This cor piece uses a floating halo design. Twenty-two Colombian emeralds, tension-set between curved titanium bars for flexibility. They follow the line of the corbone, not the neckline. It moves with the body, not against it. No flipping, no twisting. Even with hair down.¡¯


    Next, the earrings.


    ¡®Triple-drop configuration. Mixed cuts: marquise, pear, and round. Centre stones are white zircons, not diamonds. They give a wetter sparkle under LED but stay lighter on the lobe. The hooks are reverse-weighted to stop swingback when walking.¡¯


    Last one.


    ¡®The bracelet¡¯s a hinged bangle. Centre iy of brushed gold with hex-set gas, chosen for low-reflectivity under spotlight re. Interior lined with medical-grade silicone. Non-slip. Sweat-resistant. You could wear this through a whole g dinner and forget it¡¯s there.¡¯


    I nced at Ali¨¦nor Dubois.


    She leaned in, elbows on the table.


    Her gaze pinned the screen.


    I closed. ¡®Thank you.¡¯


    As thest contestant, no one ushered me off.


    I stayed in ce.


    The judges began scoring.


    The ones with styluses muttered between themselves, heads bent.


    One tapped the corner of his screen like it was unresponsive.


    I scanned the audience and found Ashton immediately in the second row.


    His hands came together first.


    A few people turned.


    Then more pping.


    It spread fast, like someone had flicked a switch.


    I didn¡¯t wave; the whole thing was being livestreamed. But I let him see the smile.


    The secondary screen flickered with slow-movingments from online viewers.


    Dubois finally spoke. ¡®It¡¯s... fine.¡¯


    Nothing else.


    A long pause.


    Then the numbers appeared.


    Eight.


    Six.


    Seven.


    A hush.


    Then¡ª


    Octavia spoke.


    She didn¡¯t bother to lower her voice. Or hide the hostility in it.


    ¡®Thatst guy¡¯s ne looked like costume jewellery from a Halloween aisle. You gave him nines. Now she shows actual craftsmanship and you suddenly develop cataracts? Are you taking the piss?¡¯


    A collective murmur rippled through the room.


    The livestream chat exploded.


    I nced at the screen.


    The viewer count was jumping in real-time.


    Thements scrolled so fast I had to squint.


    [What the hell is this scoring?]


    [Octavia just blew it up. They thought she was here to look pretty. Ha.]


    [Mirabelle¡¯s work is solid. Actual design logic, not whatever the hell thatst entry was.]


    [Six?! That ne is museum-grade. This is rigged as fuck]


    ¡®Dr Dubois?¡¯ Octavia¡¯s voice cut through the noise. ¡®I¡¯m not a professional designer, sure. But you are. So exin the score. I¡¯m waiting. And I¡¯m not the only one.¡¯


    Ali¨¦nor Dubois didn¡¯t answer.


    She crooked a finger at one of the staff.


    He jogged over.


    She leaned in and murmured something.


    I couldn¡¯t hear it from where I stood.


    Octavia could.


    ¡®Dr Dubois?¡¯ she said, louder this time. ¡®Why are you telling them to shut down the livestream?¡¯


    Dubois¡¯s voice cracked the slightest bit. ¡®There¡¯s been... a technical issue.¡¯


    Octavia turned towards the secondary screen.


    The footage streamed as smoothly as ever.


    ¡®Really? Because from here, everything looks perfectly functional. So unless the ¡°issue¡± is your ego, I suggest you answer my question.¡¯


    The chat feed behind me was boiling.


    [Is that @MVanceJewels?]


    [I bought her bracelet. Loved it. No way this is legit]


    [Bribes. Has to be]


    [Rigged.]


    [Rigged]


    [Rigged.]


    In the hall, the shouts started off scattered and low.


    ¡®It¡¯s rigged!¡¯


    ¡®That score¡¯s a joke!¡¯


    ¡®Say it to her face!¡¯


    Chairs scraped.


    Half the third row stood.


    Phones shot up.


    Cameras locked on Dubois.


    She reached for her mic again.


    Her hand trembled slightly.


    ¡®Everyone, please, calm down. Scoring is based on each judge¡¯s independent criteria. Some variation is expected¡ª¡¯


    Octavia didn¡¯t even need to raise her voice.


    ¡®Don¡¯t insult us. You gave that walking disaster nine points. Now suddenly you can¡¯t see straight? That¡¯s not a difference of opinion. That¡¯s rigged.¡¯


    Dubois inhaled sharply.


    ¡®Miss Grey, you¡¯re a guest. I¡¯m a qualified adjudicator. Youment on surface appeal. We evaluate across multiple metrics¡ª¡¯


    Octavia let out a shortugh. ¡®Right. Because if I¡¯m not one of you, I must be clueless.¡¯


    She folded her arms. ¡®Fine. Then educate us. What are these mysterious ¡°metrics¡±? Tell us. Right now.¡¯


    A voice shot out from the back: ¡®Yeah, let¡¯s hear it!¡¯


    Another: ¡®That was the best design all day!¡¯


    Third: ¡®Score or step down!¡¯


    From where I stood, I could see the whole stage.


    Security clustered near the exits, hesitating.


    Dubois stared at her hands.


    The mic shook.


    ¡®We¡¯re taking a ten-minute break,¡¯ she said. ¡®We¡¯ll resume soon.¡¯


    ¡®Why?¡¯ I stepped forward. ¡®There¡¯s no segment left. I¡¯m thest contestant. The programme doesn¡¯t list a break.¡¯


    The crowd roared.


    Thement feed behind me had probably imploded by now.


    I didn¡¯t need to look.


    Dubois spun towards me.


    Her re was sharp, desperate.


    ¡®What exactly do you want?¡¯


    ¡®I want a real score. I want transparency.¡¯ I pointed at the screen. My pieces hovered in high-resolution detail, turning slowly under the overhead lights. ¡®It¡¯s all right there. Let the audience decide. Let the livestream stay open.¡¯


    ¡®Absolutely not!¡¯ she snapped. ¡®The public doesn¡¯t understand technical design. That¡¯s the point of a panel. We¡¯re the standard.¡¯


    ¡®Then maybe you¡¯re the problem.¡¯ I stared straight at her. ¡®Because right now, thement section¡¯s doing a better job than you.¡¯


    She opened her mouth.


    No sound came out.

 Chapter 184 - 185 Rescore

    <h4>Chapter 184: Chapter 185 Rescore</h4>


    A woman seated next to Octavia leaned forward.


    ¡®Miss Vance makes a solid point. If the result¡¯s disputed, let the people decide. I¡¯d have given her a ten myself. It¡¯s stunning work.¡¯


    She looked right at me.


    I held her gaze and nodded once.


    The chat went wild again.


    [Who is that woman? She¡¯s making sense.]


    [Is she a judge too?]


    [Someone drop her name, she¡¯s hot]


    [That¡¯s Rowan Hale! My idol! Did she juste back from overseas?]


    Dr Dubois was sweating through her blouse.


    Literal sweat.


    It soaked the edge of her cor and glistened above her lip.


    She got up from her seat, approached me, then spoke in a low whisper.


    ¡®If you stop this now, I¡¯ll rescore your submission. A better score. Just... don¡¯t escte it.¡¯


    ¡®No. I¡¯m not the one who started this. You did.¡¯ I raised the mic. ¡®And we still haven¡¯t talked about what you pulled backstage. You tried to smear me, so let¡¯s hear it. Go on. Tell them what happened behind that curtain.¡¯


    Someone shouted from the audience, ¡®Backstage drama? Tell us!¡¯


    Another yelled, ¡®She got paid off for sure!¡¯


    Dubois looked like she wanted to bolt or faint or both.


    She covered my mic with one hand.


    ¡®You need to think very carefully. This isn¡¯t just some local talent show. This is the top designpetition in the country. We¡¯re backed by the National Guild. If you n to keep working, you need to stop stirring the pot.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re threatening me.¡¯


    ¡®Yes. I am.¡¯ Her nostrils red. ¡®You¡¯ll never work again if you don¡¯t shut up and cooperate¡ª¡¯


    I lifted the other mic I¡¯d been holding behind my back to her mouth mid-sentence.


    ¡®Sorry, you¡¯re mumbling. Could you repeat that into the mic?¡¯


    Her threat sted through every speaker in the room.


    I watched her jaw stutter, and for a split second, I thought she might bite her own tongue off.


    ¡®Did everyone catch that? She just said she¡¯d cklist me.¡¯


    The audience didn¡¯t hesitate.


    ¡®We heard it!¡¯


    ¡®Lunatic!¡¯


    ¡®She thinks she runs the whole damn industry?¡¯


    ¡®She should cklist herself first!¡¯


    Dubois stood rigid beside me, fists clenched so tight her knuckles whitened.


    A long, suffocating momentter, she turned and stormed offstage, nearly tripping over a power cable.


    But she didn¡¯t get to disappear just because she wanted to.


    I saw a man block her way.


    They exchanged words in a tense undertone.


    Then the man walked onto the stage.


    He gave me a smile that was weirdly ingratiating before he turned to face the audience.


    ¡®Hello, everyone. I¡¯m Tristan Hadley, the executive director of thispetition. We¡¯ve confirmed that Dr Ali¨¦nor Dubois epted a bribe and deliberately sabotaged the scoring process. The results werepromised. We¡¯ve contacted the police. She¡¯ll be investigated, along with whoever put her up to it.¡¯


    Gasps and muttering rippled through the room.


    Dubois looked like someone had yanked the floor out from under her.


    Her knees gave slightly, and she grabbed the edge of a speaker to stay upright.


    She didn¡¯t even have time to form a denial before two officers entered from the back aisle.


    They moved straight to her, snapped cuffs on her wrists, and marched her out with no ceremony.


    The room buzzed with whispers.


    Some phones were still raised, still filming.


    I nced at Tristan.


    I was pretty sure I¡¯d never seen him before.


    I turned, scanning the audience until I spotted Ashton.


    When our eyes met, he gave me a smile and nodded.


    The noise faded enough for Tristan to gesture towards the crew.


    The screen behind me blinked, then lit up with my original design.


    Tristan cleared his throat.


    ¡®This design also belongs to Miss Vance. Because of Dr Dubois¡¯ interference, she was forced to submit two drafts under ridiculous time constraints. Even so, both entries wereplete and technically wless. It¡¯s obvious she¡¯s working at a level far beyond what we expected from thispetition.¡¯


    The audience pped. Loudly.


    He kept going.


    ¡®If she¡¯d had the time she deserved, the results would¡¯ve been even stronger. It would¡¯ve been a shame if this set had been buried.¡¯


    The apuse picked up again.


    ¡®There¡¯s an old saying about a single rotten apple spoiling the bunch. That¡¯s what Dr Dubois did to this event. But I hope everyone understands her actions don¡¯t reflect thepetition as a whole.¡¯


    He turned to the judges.


    ¡®We¡¯re going to rescore Miss Vance¡¯s entries. I expect fairness this time.¡¯


    That got thements moving again.


    [That¡¯s more like it.]


    [No need to score. Just hand @MVanceJewels the damn trophy.]


    [Give her both first and second ce. Those designs crushed the rest.]


    [Stop wasting time. Announce it.]


    Tristan stepped aside, gave the crew a signal, and the judging resumed.


    ¡®Will youe with me, miss?¡¯ he sidled up to me and whispered.


    He pointed downstage.


    Ashton¡¯s seat was empty.


    I followed the man backstage.


    Ashton was waiting there.


    Tristan approached. ¡®Mr Laurent, just checking if the arrangement¡¯s to your satisfaction?¡¯


    Ashton stared at the giant screen for another three seconds before he spoke. ¡®When¡¯s the award being announced?¡¯


    Tristan hesitated. ¡®The judges are scoring live now. After that, there¡¯s a closed session where they¡¯ll finalise the rankings. It¡¯s a weighted system. Two phases of scoringbined for the final result¡ª¡¯


    ¡®So the answer is no,¡¯ Ashton cut in. ¡®We¡¯re not getting a result tonight.¡¯


    ¡®Normally, no. We release the final rankings online within three business days. That¡¯s always been the practice.¡¯


    ¡®This is tedious. The event¡¯s already a mess. I want the result tonight.¡¯


    ¡®Right¡ªyes¡ªI understand, but...¡¯ Tristan swallowed. ¡®It¡¯s a long-standing protocol. We¡¯ve never announced a winner on the same day¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Kian Al-Ahmad said this was under my authority. If I want the process changed, are you nning to stop me?¡¯


    ¡®Absolutely not!¡¯ Tristan backed up half a step, waving his hands quickly. ¡®Not at all. I¡¯ll inform themittee now. We¡¯ll announce the result immediately.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t wait for a reply.


    He turned and disappeared.


    Seven minutester, the host returned to the mic.

 Chapter 185 - 186 Hired Gun

    <h4>Chapter 185: Chapter 186 Hired Gun</h4>


    While the host droned on about the change in protocol, I turned to Ashton.


    ¡®Octavia told you?¡¯


    He nodded. ¡®The Hadley guy works for a friend of mine. I asked him to look in it. Dubois took a payment. Six hundred thousand, wired two days ago. Offshore ount. She¡¯s the one who ordered everything. The sabotage, the switch-up, all of it came from her.¡¯


    I frowned. ¡®I don¡¯t even know her. Never met her before today.¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯s just the hired gun. Hadley only had enough time to find out about the payment but couldn¡¯t trace the sender. It¡¯s buried. Whoever did it knew what they were doing.¡¯


    ¡®Huh. I wonder who it could be.¡¯


    But there was no time to dig into it at the moment.


    The host¡¯s voice boomed. ¡®The final score is in. First ce goes to... Miss Mirabelle Vance!¡¯


    A staff member waved me back onto the stage.


    After the award-giving, we hit another snag.


    ¡®Miss Vance, quick question¡ªabout the rights to your designs.¡¯ A staff member, who¡¯d probably been roped into this against her will, approached me with an apologetic smile.


    ¡®What about them?¡¯


    ¡®As per the contract, the designs submitted during thepetition belong to the organisers. That includes both sets.¡¯


    ¡®Wrong.¡¯ I shook my head. ¡®I submitted one set. The second one only went in after your colleague sabotaged my original entry. This set¡¯s yours. The first one stays with me.¡¯


    ¡®We¡¯d really appreciate your cooperation¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Not happening.¡¯


    She tried again.


    I didn¡¯t budge.


    After five more minutes of back-and-forth, she gave up and walked off.


    I pulled out my phone and sent the files to Priya.


    [Ne goes premium. High-grade stones, higher price tag, position it as affordable luxury. Rings, bracelets, earrings¡ªuse budget-friendly materials. Keep the designs clean, price low, wide reach. The views just hit two hundred thousand. Let¡¯s ride the wave.]


    She replied instantly. [On it!]


    ¡®Mirabelle!¡¯


    I turned and spotted Octavia making her way through a gap between curtains.


    ¡®Congrats! You got what you came for.¡¯


    ¡®Only because you wouldn¡¯t let them bury me.¡¯


    I meant it.


    She¡¯d held the line while I was still figuring out where to aim.


    Octavia gave a quick shrug. ¡®My words wouldn¡¯t have mattered if your pieces were shit. People aren¡¯t blind.¡¯


    Iughed. ¡®Fair point.¡¯


    ¡®Let¡¯s go find Ashton. He¡¯s the one who got the Hadley guy to speak up against Dubois.¡¯


    ¡®He wasn¡¯t the only one,¡¯ I recalled. ¡®Who was the woman seated to your right?¡¯ She gave me a ten when the other judges followed Dubois¡¯ lead.


    ¡®Rowan Hale. A singer. She¡¯s mostly based overseas. But I guess now she¡ªoh.¡¯ Octavia stopped abruptly.


    I followed her line of sight.


    Rowan Hale was standing in front of Ashton, talking.


    ¡®Didn¡¯t know they knew each other,¡¯ Octavia muttered.


    Neither did I.


    The question must have been written on my face, as Ashton exined, ¡®Miss Hale and I are acquainted.¡¯


    ¡®We went to Wessexia at the same time,¡¯ Rowan added. ¡®I was a year below. Haven¡¯t seen him since he moved back to Skyline, so this was a surprise.¡¯


    She smiled the whole time she spoke. Very polite.


    But she stood a little too close.


    Her hand almost brushed his sleeve when she gestured.


    Something felt off.


    I couldn¡¯t put my finger on it, but it crawled under my skin anyway.


    I forced a smile. ¡®Thanks for what you said earlier.¡¯


    ¡®No problem. Your work¡¯s incredible.¡¯


    Ashton stepped closer and took my hand. ¡®Everything sorted?¡¯


    I nodded.


    ¡®Let¡¯s go.¡¯


    He nodded at Rowan, then started walking.


    Octavia¡¯s heels clicked behind us. ¡®You two are dropping me at the hotel. My car¡¯s dead, and both my assistant and driver are off fixing it.¡¯


    ¡®Fine,¡¯ Ashton said.


    Behind us, I could feel Rowan¡¯s eyes tracking us as we walked away.


    After dinner, Ashton dropped Octavia off at her hotel, then drove back to the Riverbend house.


    I curled up on the living room sofa, scrolling through my phone.


    My follower count was jumping like mad, faster than when Octavia had tagged mest month.


    Comments flooded in, most asking about new collections, stock updates, preorders.


    I answered as many questions as I could.


    Five minutes turned into half an hour, then an hour.


    Ashton walked in, stared at me for two seconds, then picked me up with both arms.


    ¡®That¡¯s enough screen time,¡¯ he muttered as he carried me upstairs.


    ***


    We didn¡¯t stay at Riverbend long.


    A few dayster, we packed up to head back to Skyline.


    The night before we left, Tristan Hadley showed up at the house.


    He produced a glossy photo.


    ¡®I found who paid off Dr Dubois,¡¯ he said. ¡®They only spoke online, never met in person. But the cops traced the wire transfers. The ount belongs to this guy.¡¯


    I leaned over to get a better look.


    The man in the photo had grey hair and a hunched back.


    His coat was creased and two sizes too big.


    Sixty, maybe older.


    Ashton nced at me. ¡®You know him?¡¯


    I shook my head. ¡®Never seen him before.¡¯


    He stared at the picture for a long time, fingers pressed against the edge of the table.


    ¡®That¡¯s odd,¡¯ he said finally. ¡®Why pay that much to target you? Six hundred K¡¯s not pocket change.¡¯


    ¡®And he doesn¡¯t look like he¡¯s ever held that kind of money,¡¯ I agreed. ¡®Someone could¡¯ve used his ount. He might just be the fall guy.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s going to take time.¡¯ Hadley scratched the back of his head. ¡®Cross-border investigations are a mess. I might not be able to get clear answers soon.¡¯


    ¡®Then make it your priority,¡¯ Ashton said. ¡®If you sort it, I¡¯ll make sure Al-Ahmad gives you that promotion you¡¯ve been whining about.¡¯


    Hadley straightened up like he¡¯d just been plugged into a wall socket. ¡®Yes, yes, absolutely!¡¯


    We flew back to Skyline the next morning.


    We talked about the case on the flight.


    My guess was that it was one of the spoiled bratspeting in the same category as me.


    But Ashton was less convinced.


    But until we knew more, there was nothing more to be done.


    The second we stepped off the ne, icy wind sted straight through my clothes.

 Chapter 186 - 187 Special Occasion

    <h4>Chapter 186: Chapter 187 Special asion</h4>


    I flinched and grabbed my jacket tighter.


    ¡®Why the hell is it this cold? I packed a coat, I wore the coat, and I¡¯m still freezing. We were gone six days, not six months.¡¯


    Ashton came up behind me and dropped a heavy wool coat over my shoulders.


    It was dark grey, thick, and warm enough to deflect a snowball.


    ¡®You always forget how cold it gets here,¡¯ he said. ¡®Just wear this until we get to the car.¡¯


    I pushed my arms into the sleeves.


    As soon as we stepped out of the terminal, Ashton grabbed my hand and shoved it into the pocket of his coat.


    His palm was warm, fingers locked tight around mine.


    We walked out together, side by side, breath fogging in the wind.


    The cold hit sharper than before, the kind that cut through jeans and wool and straight into bone.


    We climbed into the car waiting at the kerb.


    Once back at the house, I went straight up to Ashton¡¯s room without thinking.


    I hadn¡¯t talked to Geoffrey yet, but I already knew what kind of answer he¡¯d give if I asked him about the heating system repairs.


    We¡¯d barely set foot inside when Dominic materialised on the doorstep.


    He muttered something urgent, waved his phone in Ashton¡¯s face, and dragged him back out before I could take my boots off.


    I watched them leave through the front window.


    Ashton had spent thest few days stuck in Riverbend with me.


    He could¡¯ve left me to handle the show alone, but he didn¡¯t.


    Whatever was blowing up at HQ now, it had probably been building the whole time we were away.


    That night, he called, said he wasn¡¯ting home for dinner, told me not to wait.


    I went to bed early, fell asleep before ten.


    At some point, I felt something tugging at me.


    I pried my eyes open a crack.


    Ashton. Shirtless, damp hair clinging to his forehead.


    I groaned and let my eyes shut again.


    ¡®You¡¯re back...¡¯ I mumbled, voice muffled by the pillow.


    He slipped into bed behind me and pulled me in.


    His skin was warm, radiating heat like he¡¯d just stepped out of the shower.


    I slid back against him instinctively, already half-asleep again.


    We hadn¡¯t spent a night apart since Riverbend.


    My body knew where it belonged before I did.


    He smelled faintly of shampoo and something sharp underneath¡ªvodka, maybe whisky.


    I pressed my nose into his chest and inhaled twice before wrinkling my nose and pulling back.


    ¡®You¡¯ve been drinking?¡¯


    ¡®Just a little. I showered. Smell¡¯s gone.¡¯


    ¡®Still there.¡¯


    He disagreed.


    Then shoved me onto my back and kissed me like he was trying to win the argument with his mouth.


    I looped my arm around his neck without opening my eyes.


    The alcohol on his skin had faded.


    Maybe I¡¯d imagined it.


    His mouth moved against mine. Slow, teasing, familiar.


    My thoughts dulled. Muscles loosened.


    The weight of him anchored me.


    I stopped noticing when I drifted under.


    When I woke up, the bed was empty.


    Pale light leaked through a crack in the curtains, streaking across the duvet.


    Iy there for a moment, head sunk into his pillow.


    The sheets still smelled like his soap.


    I reached up and touched the corner of my mouth.


    It felt faintly swollen.


    I didn¡¯t move for a few seconds.


    Justy there, remembering the press of his hands on my hips, his voice low in my ear.


    My chest felt tight, but not in a bad way.


    I stretched, groaning as my spine popped, and slid out of bed.


    While brushing my teeth, I stared at myself in the mirror.


    My hair was sticking up at the back.


    My lips were definitely swollen.


    I spat into the sink and rinsed.


    Things between me and Ashton were starting to feel... off.


    Not bad.


    Just ubelled.


    We slept in the same bed.


    We showered in the same bathroom.


    We cuddled. A lot.


    But we hadn¡¯t said anything real.


    I nced back at the bed.


    The duvet was kicked to one side, pillows dented.


    Two sets of creases on the sheets.


    The mess looked bnced. Like it belonged to both of us.


    I¡¯d told myself I¡¯d sort this out once we were back from Riverbend. Figure out what this thing was. What I wanted from him.


    My mouth curved before I could stop it.


    I¡¯d made up my mind.


    ***


    At the studio, Priya congratted me before handing me a tray lined with velvet.


    ¡®First sample¡¯s ready. Want to nitpick now or after coffee?¡¯


    I tilted it towards the light. ¡®Not bad. Edges need filing, and this sp¡¯s too stiff. But good job. Quick work.¡¯


    She scribbled something on her tablet and disappeared into the back room.


    I hadn¡¯t been in the studio for days, but everything was spotless.


    Daniel and Priya had kept it together.


    That left me free.


    I grabbed my scarf and crossed the street to Sugar & Whim.


    Yvaine hugged me the second I walked in.


    ¡®I knew you¡¯d win. Thep blew up. Half the tags on my feed were about you. If I¡¯d known Riverbend would be that fun, I¡¯d have ditched the bakery and gone with you.¡¯


    When I told her about Dubois and the mysterious old man and the six hundred thousand, she clicked her tongue.


    ¡®Sounds like a mystery novel. Damn it, why did all the fun stuff happen when I wasn¡¯t there? That¡¯s it. Next time, wherever you go, I go.¡¯


    ¡®Focus. I¡¯m not here to gossip,¡¯ I said. ¡®I need a favour.¡¯


    ¡®What kind of favour?¡¯


    ¡®I want to order a small cake. I¡¯ll pick it up before close.¡¯


    Her brow wrinkled. ¡®Whose birthday is it?¡¯


    ¡®No one¡¯s.¡¯ I cleared my throat. ¡®I¡¯m cooking dinner for Ashton tonight.¡¯


    I¡¯d left Carmen a note this morning to set out the ingredients.


    I¡¯d nned the menu over breakfast.


    Nothingplicated, but I was going to make it myself.


    The cake was dessert.


    Yvaine narrowed her eyes. ¡®You eat with him all the time. What¡¯s the special asion?¡¯

 Chapter 187 - 188 Photo

    <h4>Chapter 187: Chapter 188 Photo</h4>


    I couldn¡¯t stop the grin. It felt too wide. ¡®I¡¯m telling him. That I want us to be official. About my... feelings.¡¯


    She shot upright so fast the stool skidded. ¡®You¡¯re finally doing it! Good. Say it, serve the cake, drag him to bed¡ªboom. Perfect night.¡¯


    ¡®Keep your voice down,¡¯ I hissed, yanking her sleeve. ¡®There¡¯s literally a child two feet away.¡¯


    She cackled and dropped back onto the stool. ¡®Sorry. I¡¯m just happy for you. Leave the cake to me.¡¯


    ¡®Something simple¡¯s fine,¡¯ I said, then paused. ¡®Oh, by the way. That boyfriend of yours. Cade Lawson? I saw his face on a promo banner. He¡¯s doing some kind of reality show?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah.¡¯ Yvaine nodded. ¡®He passed the audition. No clue when filming starts, though. Probably after the holidays.¡¯


    ¡®You sure about this? He¡¯s already got a fanbase. I¡¯ve seen them fight people online like it¡¯s blood sport. And don¡¯t those shows ban contestants from dating?¡¯


    I¡¯d seen a clip of Cade a few nights ago.


    If he actually had talent to match that face, the show would blow him up in minutes.


    If the fans or the show¡¯s organisers found out he had a girlfriend, they¡¯d eat him alive.


    Yvaine patted my arm. ¡®Rx. I¡¯m not that deep in. It¡¯s fun, that¡¯s all. If he gets picked for the show, we might be done by then anyway.¡¯


    Her mouth said one thing, but her voice softened every time she mentioned his name.


    She couldn¡¯t stop smiling.


    I folded my arms. ¡®Did he use your connections? I remember your family owns a mediapany.¡¯


    ¡®No. He didn¡¯t ask for anything. Told me about the audition after he made it through. I swear, Mira, if he even tried to scam me for money or resources, I¡¯d kneecap him. He sings at Club Roxy. He got in because he¡¯s good.¡¯


    ¡®Fine. Just don¡¯t let him screw you over.¡¯


    ¡®He won¡¯t. He¡¯s decent. When you and Ashton finally lock it down, I¡¯ll bring Cade and we¡¯ll double date.¡¯


    I gave her a nod. ¡®As long as you¡¯re not going in blind. I¡¯ve gotta get back.¡¯


    ¡®Got it. I¡¯ll text when the cake¡¯s ready.¡¯


    I left Sugar & Whim and crossed the street to the studio.


    Everything inside buzzed.


    Priya was hunched over a prototype at her desk, muttering about bezels.


    Daniel sat cross-legged on the floor with hisptop, cursing at the dev server.


    The final version of mypetition pieces had just been cast.


    If the numbers held, we¡¯d sell out within a week.


    But the backend was a mess.


    Every time the site got a spike in traffic, it choked like it was built in 2004.


    Daniel needed to rip it apart and rebuild something that wouldn¡¯t crash if someone so much as sneezed on it.


    The design contest had stirred up a hell of a lot more attention than we¡¯d expected.


    My follower count tripled in four days.


    A few celebrities who¡¯d ghosted mest month suddenly crawled back with polite emails and fake apologies.


    One of them had already signed the paperwork this morning.


    I didn¡¯t bother pretending I wasn¡¯t enjoying the turnaround.


    By three, we were all running on fumes.


    I ordered a stack of pastries and iced drinks from Yvaine¡¯s shop and told Priya and Daniel to stop working for ten minutes or I¡¯d start unplugging things.


    We sat upstairs on the narrow mezzanine.


    Daniel picked the frosting off a lemon cupcake and popped it into his mouth.


    He let out a shout with his mouth still half-full.


    ¡®Holy shit. Rowan Hale¡¯s in Skyline City!¡¯


    Priya looked up from her drink. ¡®Who?¡¯


    ¡®You don¡¯t know Rowan Hale?¡¯ Daniel gaped at her like she¡¯d just asked if the sky was blue. ¡®She¡¯s a singer. She was based overseas for ages, barely known here. But I used to st her album on repeat in college. I even went to her concert in Amsterdam. Her voice? Unreal. If she starts releasing stuff here, the whole industry¡¯s screwed. No one¡¯s ready.¡¯


    ¡®I saw her in Riverbend,¡¯ I said. ¡®She was one of the judges.¡¯


    ¡®Right, that¡¯s what I mean!¡¯ Daniel pointed a fork at me. ¡®She didn¡¯t promote it at all. If I¡¯d known she was there, I¡¯d have found a way in. I would¡¯ve begged for an autograph, I swear. Now she¡¯s in Skyline, I might actually get a chance to run into her. Not that I¡¯d be able to speak like a human if I did.¡¯


    ¡®How do you know she¡¯s here?¡¯


    He shoved his phone in front of my face. ¡®Look, someone posted thisst night. It¡¯s blurry as hell and she¡¯s basically a silhouette, but I¡¯d know her anywhere.¡¯


    I leaned closer to Daniel¡¯s phone.


    The photo was grainy, all shadow and re, but Rowan Hale was unmistakable¡ªsharp jawline, tinum hair tied in a low knot, dark sses.


    Her posture gave her away more than her face.


    She was pressed up against the man beside her, almost hanging onto his arm.


    Only half his body was in frame.


    The rest disappeared into the ck.


    I couldn¡¯t see his face, but I could see movement¡ªhe was mid-step, one arm just ahead of his torso.


    I could also see the watch on his left wrist.


    It should have been impossible to make out the details from such a photo, but I¡¯d know that watch anywhere.


    I¡¯d designed it.


    There was only one like it.


    I stared at the photo.


    My chest went tight.


    My mouth stayed shut.


    I checked the arm, the shape of the hand, the angle of the fingers.


    It was Ashton.


    Daniel let out a groan. ¡®They were seen heading into a hotel. My heart¡¯s shattered. Can¡¯t believe she just came back and already started dating someone. But I mean¡ªshe¡¯s almost thirty. She¡¯s allowed.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t look up. ¡®A hotel?¡¯


    ¡®Well, not confirmed. But the building in the background looks like one. Zoom in. That¡¯s a hotel lobby, right?¡¯


    I didn¡¯t answer.


    I leaned back in my chair.


    My spine hit the edge hard, but I didn¡¯t shift.


    Ashton hadn¡¯te home till past midnight.

 Chapter 188 - 189 Dinner, Maybe

    <h4>Chapter 188: Chapter 189 Dinner, Maybe</h4>


    I¡¯d assumed it was business.


    He¡¯d been away from thepany for almost a week, after all.


    Work must have been piling up.


    Turned out he¡¯d been at a hotel.


    With Rowan Hale.


    I¡¯d noticed it back in Riverbend, the way she hovered around him.


    It hadn¡¯t clicked at the time, but now it did.


    While I sat there reying every second of that short meeting with her, Daniel waved a hand in front of my face.


    ¡®Can I have my phone back? You look like you want to crush it to pulp.¡¯


    I blinked. ¡®Sorry. Has this photo made the rounds yet?¡¯


    ¡®Nah. Just a few fans found it. They¡¯re saying the guy might be her boyfriend, and they¡¯re trying not to spread it. Rowan¡¯s still low-key here. Most people don¡¯t even know she¡¯s in the country.¡¯


    ¡®Boyfriend,¡¯ I muttered. ¡®Can you send it to me? I won¡¯t post it anywhere.¡¯


    Daniel nodded. ¡®Sure. Sending it now.¡¯


    My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I didn¡¯t check it.


    I couldn¡¯t focus on anything.


    I didn¡¯t even remember what I was meant to be working on.


    Around five, the bell above the door jingled and Yvaine swept in with a cake box.


    ¡®I messaged you three times. You¡¯re ignoring me now?¡¯ she called. ¡®Whatever. I brought it myself. Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re backing out of your candlelit dinner with Ashton.¡¯


    I dragged myself down the stairs to meet her.


    I took the cake from Yvaine¡¯s hands and mumbled, ¡®Sorry, I was swamped. Didn¡¯t check my phone.¡¯


    That was a lie.


    I wasn¡¯t busy.


    I just couldn¡¯t think straight after seeing that photo of Ashton with Rowan Hale.


    Yvaine grinned. ¡®It¡¯s dark out. Stop working already. I¡¯m off the clock. I¡¯ve got a date.¡¯


    ¡®Then go,¡¯ I told her. ¡®Don¡¯t let me dy your love life. Watch out for weird cab drivers.¡¯


    She waved and left.


    A few minutester, Priya and Daniel packed up too.


    ¡®Night, boss,¡¯ Priya called from the stairs.


    ¡®Don¡¯t forget to sleep.¡¯ Daniel added when he saw my face, ¡®You okay? You look... kinda depressed.¡¯


    ¡®Not depressed.¡¯ I forced a smile. ¡®Just tired.¡¯


    ¡®Well, like I said, don¡¯t forget to sleep. Good night.¡¯


    ¡®Night.¡¯


    I waved them off and headed upstairs to clear the clutter on my desk.


    Once everything was packed away, I sat down, unlocked my phone, and opened the photo again.


    I¡¯d looked at it maybe fifty times already.


    Ashton wasn¡¯t looking at her, but she was looking at him.


    I stared at the screen, chewing the inside of my cheek.


    They definitely knew each other. Ashton told me that himself.


    But he¡¯s said Rowan was an acquaintance.


    Was that true?


    What if...


    What if Rowan was the so-called great love he never got over?


    Then what the hell was he doing with me?


    But no, that wasn¡¯t him.


    Ashton didn¡¯t do double-dealing.


    If he wanted someone else, he¡¯d tell me.


    He¡¯d say it straight to my face.


    Or more likely, he¡¯d sit me down and exin why our contract was now null and void.


    I opened our chat. Typed out a whole paragraph. Deleted it.


    Then I wrote something short: [Come home for dinner tonight.]


    He replied immediately: [I¡¯ll be home early.]


    When I walked into the house, Carmen had everything out on the counter, washed, chopped, arranged like a demo kitchen.


    ¡®Mrs Laurent,¡¯ she said, tying her apron and beaming at me, ¡®everything¡¯s prepped. Just tell me what you feel like making, and I¡¯ll assist.¡¯


    ¡®Thanks.¡¯


    I walked over and stared at the ingredients.


    The carrots were cut into uniform coins, the chicken sliced perfectly, even the garlic was minced so fine it looked powdered.


    I left this morning ready to tell him everything.


    Now I wasn¡¯t sure I even wanted him to eat what I cooked.


    Carmen hovered near the counter. ¡®Want me to just handle it?¡¯


    I straightened up. ¡®No. I said I¡¯d cook, so I will. Just... stay close. My skills are average at best.¡¯


    ¡®You got it.¡¯


    I rinsed my hands under the tap and dried them on a dish towel.


    I¡¯d had hours to get a grip. Enough time to stop spiralling over one grainy photo.


    It was dark. The angle was weird. Could¡¯ve been anyone.


    The ce didn¡¯t even look like a hotel unless you squinted and already wanted to be pissed off.


    People always gossiped about celebrities.


    Rowan was a celebrity.


    He¡¯d be home soon. I¡¯d ask him directly.


    If it was nothing, we¡¯d eat.


    If it wasn¡¯t... well, I¡¯d deal with it then.


    Carmen stepped in to chop, stir, and quietly fix anything I botched.


    She picked up the ck where I hesitated, and somehow, it all came together.


    Starter: whipped feta with olive oil and thyme, plus a warm sourdough baguette Carmen sliced at a perfect angle.


    Main: duck breast with cherry sauce that actually thickened, parmesan polenta I didn¡¯t burn, and green beans I remembered to season.


    Dessert: berry and apple crumble, still bubbling when I took it out. Plus Yvaine¡¯s cake.


    I tasted a bite of everything.


    It wasn¡¯t awful.


    Carmen¡¯s version would¡¯ve been tastier, but nothing was undercooked or weirdly crunchy, so I counted it as a win.


    By the time we finished, it was past seven.


    Ashton still hadn¡¯t shown.


    He normally got home by six if he wasn¡¯t out at some event.


    Tonight, he hadn¡¯t mentioned any meetings.


    I checked my phone. No messages. No missed calls.


    Just that one reply from earlier.


    I waited thirty minutes before texting him.


    Nothing.


    I called.


    It rang until thest second, then he finally picked up.


    Background noise poured through the speaker¡ªshouting, car horns, something metal ttering.


    He spoke first. ¡®Something¡¯se up. I¡¯ll bete. Don¡¯t wait.¡¯


    His voice was rushed. He sounded like he was moving.

 Chapter 189 - 190 Explanations

    <h4>Chapter 189: Chapter 190 Exnations</h4>


    I said, ¡®Got it,¡¯ and ended the call.


    The dining table was set. Cutlery straight, wine cold, tes steaming.


    I stood there for a second, then dropped into the chair and started eating.


    Three bites in, I gave up.


    Everything tasted t.


    I left the rest, grabbed the remote, and copsed on the couch.


    Thirty minutes passed.


    I couldn¡¯t remember a single thing I¡¯d watched.


    When I looked up, Tom and Jerry was ying on mute.


    I let out a shortugh. Nothing funny, really.


    I got up, brought out the cake, and set it on the table.


    I took a small spoon from the drawer and dug in.


    The sponge was soft, not overly sweet, with a tart ze that cut through the richness.


    Better than anything I¡¯d cooked tonight.


    After a few bites, I flipped to some new drama people had been shouting about online.


    Ten minutes in, I still couldn¡¯t tell you what the plot was.


    The wall clock ticked past nine.


    Ashton still hadn¡¯t shown.


    I thought about going upstairs.


    But that photo kept shing through my head.


    I wanted answers.


    I wasn¡¯t going to sleep without them.


    I curled up on the couch and kept one ear open for the door.


    I must¡¯ve drifted off.


    When I woke up, the lights were still on.


    Carmen stood near the sofa.


    She sighed. ¡®You should go upstairs.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m fine here.¡¯


    ¡®At least let me put something on your hand. You burned it earlier making that soup.¡¯


    I lifted my hand. ¡®It¡¯s fine. Doesn¡¯t hurt much anymore.¡¯


    Carmen swallowed whatever else she wanted to say.


    She draped a nket over me, muted the TV, dimmed the ceiling lights, and slipped away.


    I went back to sleep, though not fully.


    The door clicked open and I stirred.


    The wall clock read just past eleven.


    He pulled up short in front of the couch.


    ¡®What are you doing down here? I told you not to wait up.¡¯


    He stepped closer, bent down, and reached for me.


    I pulled back before he could touch me.


    He frowned. ¡®What¡¯s wrong?¡¯


    I sat up. My arms were cold. ¡®Where were you tonight?¡¯


    ¡®A friend¡¯s mum had a health scare. He just got back to Skyline, doesn¡¯t know the hospitals. ER was overwhelmed, so I moved her to a private clinic and stayed until she was seen. He¡¯s helped me out before¡ªI owed him.¡¯


    He sounded steady. No stammering.


    If he was lying, he was a damn good actor.


    I gave a short nod. ¡®Is she stable now?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah. She¡¯s alright.¡¯


    He sat beside me and pulled me into his chest. ¡®Sorry. I was meant to be here.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s fine.¡¯ I pushed out of his arms and stood. ¡®Where were youst night?¡¯


    He paused for half a second. ¡®Dinner. A few old mates.¡¯


    I walked to the coffee table, picked up my phone, and pulled up the photo.


    I turned the screen to him.


    ¡®That you?¡¯


    The image was dark, grainy.


    He squinted at it, confused for a second, then recognition kicked in.


    ¡®Yeah... that¡¯s me,¡¯ he said finally. ¡®But it¡¯s not what it looks like. We weren¡¯t even that close¡ªsomeone caught it from a weird angle.¡¯


    I held his gaze. ¡®So you really were with Rowanst night?¡¯


    He straightened. ¡®It was a dinner. A group dinner. There were other people with us. Someone on her left, someone on my right. Whoever took this cropped everyone else out.¡¯


    I turned back to the screen. ¡®You had dinner in a hotel?¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s The As Room. Eighteenth floor, Somerset Hotel.¡¯


    ¡®I didn¡¯t know The As Room is open till midnight.¡¯


    ¡®It isn¡¯t. The picture¡¯s been colour-adjusted. It looks like it waste, but it wasn¡¯t. Peak dinner hours. The ce was packed, lights were bright.¡¯


    I¡¯d heard of The As Room.


    Polished crowd, glossy wine sses, imported tile floors.


    Expensive, but not secretive.


    I believed him. About the dinner. About the photo.


    But I didn¡¯t believe there was nothing else under it.


    Even if nothing had happenedst night, that didn¡¯t mean Rowan wasn¡¯t the one he kept parked at the edge of his thoughts.


    After all, he didn¡¯t tell me about the dinner, wouldn¡¯t have mentioned it now if I hadn¡¯t asked.


    Something stabbed at my chest.


    It took some effort to keep my voice even.


    ¡®If you¡¯ve got feelings for Rowan, you can just tell me. I¡¯d rather hear it straight¡ª¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t.¡¯ He cut me off before I could finish.


    His hand closed around mine, sudden and tight. ¡®I don¡¯t have feelings for her. We¡¯re just friends.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t let go of my hand.


    Then he yanked out his phone with his free hand, tapped fast.


    I caught a glimpse of the message before he sent it.


    It was to Dominic Everett.


    [Pull the front entrance CCTV from The As Room around 8 pmst night.]


    He faced me again.


    ¡®It was a ssmate from Wessexia. It was his mum who had an emergency tonight, by the way. We haven¡¯t seen each other in years. He said a few of the old group were getting together for dinner. Rowan was going to be there too. He told me that upfront. I didn¡¯t care. She¡¯s just someone I used to know. I didn¡¯t think it mattered.¡¯


    His grip hadn¡¯t eased. The inside of my palm had started to sting.


    ¡®There were six of us. They were waiting when I got there. That photo... whoever took it had to be standing near the entrance. We were just walking in. I wouldn¡¯t have even realised she was next to me if I hadn¡¯t seen the picture. And I didn¡¯t mention it before because it didn¡¯t register as important. It was dinner. That¡¯s all. I said maybe five words to her.¡¯


    His hand tightened again. The bones in my fingers pressed together.


    I didn¡¯t pull away.


    I just watched his face.


    The tension in his shoulders, the short drag of his breath, the way he kept holding on like letting go would make it worse.


    If this was all fake, he¡¯d missed his calling as an actor.

 Chapter 190 - 191 Biggest Winner

    <h4>Chapter 190: Chapter 191 Biggest Winner</h4>


    ¡®So whoever took that photo wanted people to think something¡¯s going on between you and her,¡¯ I said.


    ¡®Exactly.¡¯ He let out a breath, grabbed my other hand, and pulled me closer. ¡®So you believe me?¡¯


    ¡®I do.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t know which of us felt more relieved, me or him.


    His shoulders rxed.


    The stabbing pain in my chest eased.


    I leaned back to look at him. ¡®Whoever took that shot cropped it deliberately and pushed it online. What were they aiming for?¡¯


    His mouth set hard. ¡®Whoever it was knew I wasn¡¯t with her. They posted that frame to stir shit on purpose.¡¯


    ¡®It didn¡¯t take off,¡¯ I said. ¡®There¡¯s nothing online. No trending tags, no press on Rowan today.¡¯


    He frowned. ¡®Then how did you see it?¡¯


    ¡®Her fans. Someone shared it with me.¡¯


    We stared at each other.


    No one said it, but we were thinking the same thing.


    If someone had traced Ashton¡¯s identity and noticed Rowan hanging around him, she could spin it.


    Leverage the connection, raise her profile.


    The biggest winner here would be Rowan.


    But if she was behind it, why was there no traction?


    No fake dating headlines, no PR spin?


    Before either of us could sort through the logic, his phone lit up on the table.


    Unknown number.


    Ashton made no move to answer it.


    ¡®You should probably pick up,¡¯ I said. ¡®Could be rted to what we¡¯re talking about.¡¯


    He hit answer, then put the call on speaker.


    ¡®Ashton.¡¯ A woman¡¯s voice. Soft, breathy, a little rushed.


    ¡®Rowan,¡¯ he mouthed the word to me.


    ¡®I asked Casimir for your number. I need to exin something. Someone took photos of us outside The As Roomst night. I only found out this afternoon. I¡¯ve already paid to suppress them. It¡¯s probably paparazzi. Someone must¡¯ve heard I¡¯m back in Skyline. I don¡¯t want you to think I had anything to do with it. I swear I didn¡¯t. I¡¯ve sorted it. If you haven¡¯t seen the photo, don¡¯t look. If you have, don¡¯t read into it. It was just dinner. We¡¯re friends. That¡¯s all. I have no idea how the shot came out that suggestive. Total ident.¡¯


    Rowan sounded nervous but honest.


    When Ashton didn¡¯t reply, sheughed, awkward and short. ¡®You¡¯ve seen the photo, haven¡¯t you? You don¡¯t think I set it up, do you?¡¯


    ¡®Got it.¡¯ He hung up.


    He looked at me.


    I looked right back.


    ¡®If she was behind it,¡¯ I said, ¡®why bother stopping it from spreading?¡¯


    The photo never hit the inte.


    Daniel had sent it to me directly, but I couldn¡¯t find a single copy online, not even in sketchy tabloid sites.


    What was the photographer after?


    ckmail, maybe.


    Cash from Rowan?


    I shrugged. ¡®Anyway, now that it¡¯s cleared up, I guess it doesn¡¯t have anything to do with me.¡¯


    ¡®Nor me,¡¯ Ashton added.


    His eyes dropped to the table, where the cake sat with one slice missing. ¡®You bought cake today?¡¯


    Now that the candlelight dinner ns were dead, there was no point exining it was meant to be part of the setup.


    I kept my voice light. ¡®Yvaine had leftovers. She gave me one.¡¯


    He picked up the spoon and helped himself. ¡®Not bad.¡¯


    His stomach growled. Loud.


    We both heard it.


    ¡®You haven¡¯t eaten?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®I came straight from the clinic. Didn¡¯t have time.¡¯


    ¡®I saved dinner.¡¯ I nudged him towards the table.


    The food was still there, mostly untouched.


    ¡®It¡¯s gone cold. I¡¯ll heat it up.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t bother.¡¯ He caught my wrist before I turned. ¡®It¡¯s fine as it is.¡¯


    He sat down and started eating.


    I opened my mouth, about to tell him I cooked everything myself. Well, with help.


    He spoke first. ¡®It¡¯s Carmen¡¯s day off?¡¯


    ¡®No. Why?¡¯


    ¡®Doesn¡¯t taste like her usual cooking.¡¯


    ¡®Do you like it?¡¯


    ¡®The duck¡¯s a bit rubbery, and the cherry sauce is far too sweet.¡¯


    ¡®Oh.¡¯


    Every smug word I¡¯d been about to say copsed in my throat and sat there, stuck.


    ¡®I¡¯m going upstairs.¡¯


    I left the dining room.


    The second the bedroom door shut behind me, I stripped out of my clothes, kicked them across the floor, and headed for the shower.


    My finger throbbed as I turned on the water.


    I nced down and saw the small blister, red and raw at the edge.


    I hissed through my teeth.


    ¡®Idiot,¡¯ I muttered. ¡®Absolute idiot.¡¯


    I wasn¡¯t a chef. I¡¯d barely mastered boiling eggs without supervision.


    What exactly had possessed me to think I could pull off a seared duck breast and homemade cherry sauce?


    I padded to the sink, found the cooling balm, and smeared it on with gritted teeth.


    The sting eased a little.


    I grabbed the first aid kit from the drawer, wound a bandage around the finger and stared at it.


    Ashton wasn¡¯t a picky eater, but I knew that he noticed every single bite.


    I considered going to my own room.


    But that¡¯d raise questions.


    Especially tonight, after the Rowan photo mess.


    I changed into pyjamas, pulled back the duvet on Ashton¡¯s bed, and climbed in.


    I tucked the bandaged hand under the pillow and shut my eyes.


    When he came up, I was curled under the covers, pretending to be asleep.


    He kissed the top of my head. ¡®Good night.¡¯


    Heced his fingers with mine.


    I flinched.


    ¡®What is it?¡¯ He pulled my arm up, lifting it gently from beneath the nket.


    Even in the dark, he caught the lopsided white wrap around my finger.


    ¡®You hurt yourself?¡¯


    I tugged my hand back. ¡®It was just a pen tip. Scraped it at the studio.¡¯


    I rolled away from him, shoved my hand under the pillow and yanked the nket over my head.


    Ashton reached under the covers and found my fingers again.


    He kept my hand wrapped in his.


    I stayed quiet.


    He stayed still.

 Chapter 191 - 192 Ashton’s POV: Damn It

    <h4>Chapter 191: Chapter 192 Ashton¡¯s POV: Damn It</h4>


    By the time Ashton woke up the next morning, she was gone.


    He sat alone at the table, reading through the CroftTech acquisition contract while finishing thest of the eggs.


    They were cooked to perfection, Carmen¡¯s usual standard.


    His phone rang.


    ¡®Mr Laurent, I just sent over the footage,¡¯ Dominic said.


    It was security footage, timestampedst night, just after eight, right outside The As Room.


    The clip showed the whole group walking in.


    Rowan was two people away from Ashton. Clear distance. Nothing remotely intimate.


    ¡®Took you long enough.¡¯


    Mirabelle believed him.


    Watching it now barely mattered.


    Dominic apologised. ¡®Took me some time to track down the manager. Next time, I¡¯ll get it to you faster.¡¯


    ¡®Someone caught a misangled shot of me and Rowan Halest night. I want the original source. Who took it. Where they were standing. Everything.¡¯ His voice dropped lower. ¡®Especially whether Rowan had anything to do with setting it up.¡¯


    ¡®Understood.¡¯


    ¡®And check if she¡¯s been making calls to bury the photo.¡¯


    ¡®Got it. I¡¯ll dig into it.¡¯ Dominic paused. ¡®One more thing¡ªFranklin Vance has been asking for a meeting. Reached out while you were in Riverbend. Do you have time this week?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll see him today.¡¯


    ¡®Got it.¡¯


    Ashton hung up.


    Franklin Vance had better show up with a signed will and every cent pointed at Mirabelle.


    At this point, Franklin and his wife had no excuse left.


    They knew Catherine wasn¡¯t theirs.


    He¡¯d been patient.


    If the man still wanted to y stupid, Ashton would make sure he didn¡¯t walk out of the LGH building.


    Geoffrey hovered near his shoulder, shifting from one foot to the other.


    Ashton didn¡¯t look up. ¡®Spit it out.¡¯


    ¡®Yes, sir.¡¯ Geoffrey cleared his throat. ¡®The dinnerst night. It wasn¡¯t from Carmen. Mrs Laurent made it.¡¯


    The piece of egg on Ashton¡¯s fork slid off and dropped back onto the te.


    He turned his head slowly. ¡®Say that again.¡¯


    ¡®She cooked the whole meal. The cake, too. She¡¯d ordered it specially. She asked us not to mention it. Wanted it to be a surprise. But then you didn¡¯te home on time, and when you finally did...¡¯


    He trailed off.


    Ashton leaned back, staring at the wall behind Geoffrey.


    He remembered what he¡¯d said. Rubbery. Too sweet.


    Mirabelle had gone upstairs straight after that.


    He looked back at Geoffrey. ¡®And you waited until now to tell me?¡¯


    ¡®She told us not to. But then I saw the blister on her hand and, well, she spent hours on that dinner, sir. I thought you should know.¡¯


    Ashton turned to Carmen, who gave a quick nod.


    Cooking. Cake orders. Burned hand.


    She¡¯d waited for him. He hadn¡¯t shown.


    His grip on the fork tightened.


    What had he missed?


    What was the asionst night?


    He knew it wasn¡¯t her birthday, nor his, nor any kind of anniversary.


    If he¡¯de home earlier, if he¡¯d eaten with her, what would she have said?


    ¡®Where¡¯s the food fromst night?¡¯ He asked.


    If he¡¯d known she¡¯d made it, he¡¯d have cleared the whole table.


    Thinking back now, the meal hadn¡¯t even tasted bad.


    Not great, but no worse than Carmen¡¯s more experimental tes.


    Geoffrey muttered, ¡®Mrs Laurent had it binned this morning before she left. All of it.¡¯


    Ashton looked up. ¡®All of it?¡¯


    ¡®Yes, sir. Said it was just tasteless leftovers. Didn¡¯t want them taking up fridge space.¡¯


    ¡®You should¡¯ve told mest night.¡¯


    ¡®She told us not to. I wasn¡¯t even supposed to say anything now. Please don¡¯t mention it to her...¡¯


    Ashton ignored him.


    He kept eating, chewing mechanically.


    His mood didn¡¯t improve when he reached the office.


    He hadn¡¯t even taken off his coat when Dominic walked in.


    ¡®Sir, Franklin Vance is waiting in the conference room¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Let him wait.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t care if Vance stood there all day.


    He pulled out his phone and opened Mirabelle¡¯s chat.


    His thumbs hovered, tapped out half a sentence, then deleted it.


    None of it sounded right.


    Toote, too stiff, too rehearsed.


    Whatever he sent now would reek of guilt.


    He shoved the phone back into his pocket.


    But the image stuck¡ªher hand, bandaged. The food, dumped without a second thought.


    By eleven, the pressure in his head had built to snapping point.


    He stood up abruptly and left his office.


    He didn¡¯t knock.


    The door to the conference room mmed behind him.


    He dropped into the chair at the head of the table.


    Franklin stood fast. ¡®Mr Laurent...¡¯


    He stayed standing, rubbing his palms together, sweat building under his cor.


    ¡®Mr Laurent, I¡¯ve brought the will.¡¯


    That earned him a nce.


    Ashton¡¯s eyes were t and cold.


    Franklin swallowed. ¡®Mirabelle¡¯s my daughter. Only daughter. What I earned should go to her. But I¡¯ve worked in thepany for years, I¡¯ve¡ª¡¯


    Ashton rapped the table. ¡®Get to the point.¡¯


    ¡®Yes, yes, of course...¡¯ Franklin fumbled with his briefcase and pulled out a stack of printed papers. ¡®Here. This is the will. Most of the estate goes to Mirabelle. I just thought... maybe Preston could have a small portion. He¡¯s contributed to thepany, and his father¡¯s never done a thing for him...¡¯


    He held the pages out with both hands, arms extended like he was making an offering.


    Ashton took them without a word, eyes flicking over the lines.


    He curled his lip.


    Franklin tensed. ¡®Is... is something wrong, Mr Laurent?¡¯


    Ashton dropped the will onto the table. ¡®You really thought you could forge this and get away with it?¡¯


    Franklin flinched.


    His shoulders jerked up.


    ¡®I didn¡¯t forge anything. This is mytest will. Signed. Witnessed. Properly notarised. Everything¡¯s clearly written in ck and white.¡¯


    Ashton stared at him. ¡®You bribed awyer who lost his licencest year and paid for a set of seals off the inte. You think that counts as notarised?¡¯

 Chapter 192 - 193 Ashton’s POV: Fake Will

    <h4>Chapter 192: Chapter 193 Ashton¡¯s POV: Fake Will</h4>


    ¡®I didn¡¯t bribe anyone! It¡¯s a legal document. You can verify it at the notary¡¯s office! I¡ª¡¯


    Franklin choked on his own words.


    A rough cough cut him off.


    His neck flushed red, and sweat clung to the edge of his hairline.


    Ashton said nothing.


    His eyes moved slowly over Franklin, like he was waiting for the performance to continue.


    Franklin tried again, repeating the same defence, then again, rearranging the sentences.


    Ashton stopped listening.


    ¡®That¡¯s enough,¡¯ he said tly. ¡®Looks like you didn¡¯t listen to a single word during ourst conversation.¡¯


    Franklin blinked. ¡®Wh-what do you mean?¡¯


    ¡®I mean I had someone watching you. And your wife. Your nephew. Your niece. That fakewyer you dragged in whose licence was pulledst year. The ountant moving your assets offshore. All of them.¡¯ He tapped his phone. ¡®Would you like the photos or the audio first?¡¯


    Franklin froze.


    Then he started shaking.


    His lips parted but nothing came out.


    Ashton¡¯s mood lifted. Slightly.


    He gave it a few seconds, then continued. ¡®I know what yourpany¡¯s worth. I know your personal assets. I know what your wife¡¯s hoarding and how much of your property¡¯s tucked under your friends¡¯ names. I know exactly how much should be listed in that will.¡¯


    Franklin wobbled.


    His palms hit the table.


    He sank into the chair, legs folding like paper.


    ¡®You founded Vance Omnia,¡¯ Ashton said. ¡®But it stopped being yours the moment you started siphoning assets. You think prison¡¯s not on the table?¡¯


    Franklin clenched his teeth until his jaw trembled. ¡®I didn¡¯t touch anything¡ª¡¯


    ¡®You think I¡¯m bluffing,¡¯ Ashton said. ¡®Or just stupid?¡¯


    Franklin cracked. ¡®I¡¯m her father! You can¡¯t do this! I¡¯ll fix the will, alright? I¡¯ll rewrite the whole fucking thing!¡¯


    ¡®Toote. I gave you a chance. You pissed on it.¡¯


    Ashton made a call.


    Franklin lurched forward, hands up. ¡®Please. Ashton. She¡¯s my daughter... I¡¯ll fix the will. I¡¯ll make a real one. Everything to her. Stocks. Trusts. The property in Verbier. She can have all of it. Just¡ªjust don¡¯t do this.¡¯


    ¡®You already did this,¡¯ Ashton said coldly.


    ¡®She¡¯ll hate you. You think Mirabelle won¡¯t find out what you did? You get me arrested, she¡¯ll never forgive you¡ª¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re wrong,¡¯ Ashton said. ¡®She stopped needing your approval a long time ago.¡¯


    ¡®You arrogant little shit. You think you¡¯re protecting her? You¡¯re not. You¡¯re just another man deciding what she gets and what she doesn¡¯t. You think she won¡¯t see it?¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯ll see exactly what you are. That¡¯s why I¡¯m not worried.¡¯


    Franklin¡¯s chest heaved. ¡®Just let me go. I¡¯ll fix it, Ashton. I¡¯ll fix everything, I swear...¡¯


    His gaze darted to the door.


    Then he ran.


    He barely made it two steps before Ashton kicked a chair into his path.


    The leg cracked into Franklin¡¯s calf.


    He stumbled, cracked into the door with a loud grunt, slid halfway down it, wheezing.


    Then came the knock.


    Ashton opened the door calmly.


    Dominic stood on the threshold, nked by two officers.


    Ashton stepped aside. ¡®He¡¯s all yours.¡¯


    When Franklin was read his rights and cuffed, he didn¡¯t react.


    He didn¡¯t seem to be aware of what was happening.


    But when the officers tried to march him to the door, his knees buckled.


    One of them had to grab his cor to stop him from copsing on the carpet.


    Ashton watched Franklin being hauled out, head low, mouth open, limbs too loose to resist.


    The tension in his chest lifted.


    Franklin¡¯s stunt¡ªmoneyundering, falsified records, offshore transfers, tax fraud¡ªhad racked up a case worth over a hundred million.


    He¡¯d be lucky to get out in a decade.


    ***


    Ashton left work early.


    Unusual for him, but after the morning¡¯s chaos, he didn¡¯t see the point in waiting around for more.


    He stepped into the house, unfastened his cuffs, and headed straight to the kitchen.


    The ce was quiet.


    Carmen wasn¡¯t in.


    He opened the fridge, stared at its contents, and shut it again.


    Thought about making dinner.


    Mirabelle had triedst night, and burnt herself, judging by the awkwardly wrapped finger she¡¯d tried to hide.


    But if he cooked for her tonight, she¡¯d know he knew.


    She¡¯d feel self-conscious.


    They¡¯d have to talk about it, and that would spiral into another awkward conversation.


    Too many ways to misstep.


    So he messaged Carmen.


    Dinner was nearly ready when Mirabelle came through the door, hair damp from the snow, cheeks pink with cold.


    ¡®I have something to show you,¡¯ Ashton said, holding out a folder.


    She took it and sat, flipping through.


    Her brows drew in. ¡®This is... Franklin¡¯s will? He left me... everything?¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s a forgery. The stamps are fake. The assets listed are a joke.¡¯


    ¡®Huh.¡¯


    Ashton watched her face. Measured her reaction.


    ¡®He hid most of his holdings. Offshore. Under aliases. Through shellpanies. He was arrested today.¡¯


    She didn¡¯t react right away. Just shut the folder and set it aside.


    He waited for a re of anger. A thrown usation. Even just a cold look.


    The man was her father, after all.


    But all she said was, ¡®If he did all those things you said, then he deserves to go to jail.¡¯


    His shoulders lowered a fraction. ¡®With the evidence I gave the police, the case will be open and shut. This will¡¯s invalid, but you¡¯re the Vances¡¯ only biological daughter. The money will naturally pass to you when they¡¯re gone.¡¯


    ¡®They know about Catherine?¡¯ she asked, looking up.


    Ashton nodded. ¡®Caroline, Serenna, Preston¡ªthey¡¯ll try to move what they can once they find out about the arrest. But don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m watching them.¡¯


    She gave a faint smile. ¡®You don¡¯t have to go to all this trouble for me. You know I don¡¯t care about their money.¡¯


    ¡®I know,¡¯ Ashton said. ¡®But you have a right to it. And they owe you, after everything.¡¯


    She leaned across the table and kissed him. ¡®Thank you.¡¯


    ¡®You don¡¯t have to thank me.¡¯


    ¡®Right, I forgot.¡¯


    He hesitated, then asked, ¡®Was there something you wanted to talk aboutst night?¡¯


    She sat down with a sigh and picked up her fork. ¡®What? Oh. Nothing.¡¯

 Chapter 193 - 194 Team Outing

    <h4>Chapter 193: Chapter 194 Team Outing</h4>


    I¡¯d been glued to myptop so long my lower back had started protesting.


    I finally dragged myself downstairs for water, stretched my neck, and nearly bumped into Daniel as he rushed in.


    ¡®You didn¡¯t share the photos I sent you, did you?¡¯ he asked quickly.


    ¡®No. Why?¡¯


    He let out a relieved breath, then leaned in like he had a secret to share. ¡®Rowan¡¯s people reached out to her fanbase. Told them not to repost anything. She says the guy in the photo¡¯s just a friend. Dinner and nothing more. ming the angle.¡¯


    I set my ss on the counter. ¡®Maybe she wasn¡¯t lying, then.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t catch that. Just kept talking. ¡®Apparently, she gave the heads-up yesterday, but I only found out this morning. Good thing you kept it to yourself.¡¯


    ¡®I didn¡¯t leak anything,¡¯ I said. ¡®Rx.¡¯


    Daniel nodded, then sighed like he was personally invested. ¡®I really thought she¡¯dnded someone serious. Judging by that guy¡¯s clothes, he looked like the kind of man with stupid money. Could¡¯ve helped her career. Shame it¡¯s just a friend.¡¯


    He rambled on, trying to piece it all together out loud.


    Whatever.


    His recap matched what she told Ashton, which meant she was actively trying to kill the story.


    That also meant she hadn¡¯t staged the photo herself.


    So far, no real damage done.


    ¡®What was that?¡¯ I looked up.


    ¡®What?¡¯ Daniel stopped mid-sentence.


    He followed my line of sight and stared out the window.


    ¡®Nothing. I thought I saw something.¡¯


    ¡®What was it?¡¯


    ¡®Can¡¯t be sure.¡¯ I squinted but could not make anything out. ¡®Thought it was a camera sh.¡¯


    ¡®Are you sure? Could just be the re from the sun.¡¯


    ¡®Probably. Anyway, back to work.¡¯


    ¡®Wait!¡¯ Daniel chased after me. ¡®I haven¡¯t shared with you Rowan¡¯stest song. You¡¯ve got to listen to it...¡¯


    ***


    At three in the afternoon, Daniel popped his head into my office, looking awkward.


    ¡®What is it?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®Mirabelle, I¡¯ve been at the studio over a month now.¡¯


    ¡®Yes.¡¯ Was he going to ask for a raise?


    ¡®Aren¡¯t we due for some kind of team outing?¡¯


    ¡®You want a team outing?¡¯


    Back when I was still at Nyx Collective, I¡¯d been dragged to a few of those.


    Awkward small talk, limp appetisers, fake bonding.


    I spent most of them calcting exit strategies.


    So, no, I¡¯d never thought about nning one for my own studio.


    Daniel shrugged. ¡®Not an official outing or anything. There¡¯s only three of us. But we¡¯ve never grabbed dinner together. Feels weird, considering how well we get on.¡¯


    ¡®Sure. Ask Priya when she¡¯s free, and I¡¯ll take you both out.¡¯


    He beamed. ¡®I¡¯m on it.¡¯


    He bolted down the stairs, trainers pping against the concrete.


    I leaned back and stared at the ceiling.


    Business had been non-stoptely.


    The budget line from that affordable luxury collection had finally started trickling in.


    Daniel¡¯s timing wasn¡¯t bad.


    I could treat them to a meal and sort out bonuses while I was at it.


    Two minutester, he galloped back up.


    ¡®Priya says she¡¯s free whenever. What about tonight?¡¯


    I raised an eyebrow. ¡®You¡¯re that eager?¡¯


    He scratched his head, still grinning. ¡®I¡¯m just saying, if we wait, we¡¯ll probably end up buried in deadlines again. Plus, you offering to pay? You¡¯re absolutely going to forget by next week.¡¯


    ¡®Charming,¡¯ I said. ¡®Fine. Tonight it is.¡¯


    I texted Ashton to let him know, shut the ce down early, and dragged my two favourite overachievers out for dinner.


    We went to a seafood buffet that charged like it was fine dining.


    It was pricey, but I didn¡¯t care.


    tes piled high, crab legs cracking, butter dripping¡ªwe cleared the table like it was a sport.


    Daniel kept throwing out stories that got progressively more ridiculous.


    Priyaughed so hard she had to dab under her eyes with a napkin.


    By the time we were picking through the dessert trays, Daniel piped up again.


    ¡®It¡¯s still early. If I go home now, I¡¯ll just end up scrolling till two. Let¡¯s hit a bar. Couple of drinks, maybe live music. Helps with digestion, right?¡¯


    I nced at Priya.


    She nodded.


    Daniel pped once. ¡®Great! I¡¯ve got a ce. Just opened, already viral online. Some influencer sings there, or something. Not far either.¡¯


    ¡®Fine,¡¯ I said. ¡®Lead the way.¡¯


    He dragged us to this quiet little spot tucked between a yoga studio and a frozen yoghurt shop.


    No neon signs, no queue, no bouncer.


    A guy on stage was strumming an acoustic guitar, barely amplified, voice low and slow.


    We found a table near the back wall.


    Dim lighting, soft cushions, decent aircon.


    I hadn¡¯t sat down before Daniel was already halfway up again.


    ¡®I¡¯ll grab drinks. Mira, can I order the expensive stuff?¡¯


    I leaned an elbow on the table. ¡®Order whatever you want. Just keep mine and Priya¡¯s on the lighter side.¡¯


    ¡®Got it.¡¯ He snapped a mock salute with two fingers. ¡®Sweet and overpriced. My speciality.¡¯


    He jogged off to the bar.


    Right after he left, the music cut out.


    Total silence for a beat.


    Then the crowd burst into loud, scattered apuse.


    I looked up.


    The guy with the acoustic guitar had left the stage.


    A new one was already strapping on a matte ck electric.


    Skinny jeans, ck jacket, studded leather boots.


    Hair dyed silver, shaved close at the sides, slicked back on top.


    The lights hit it like foil.


    The first chord snapped out from the amp, sharp and fast.


    The whole ce shifted.


    More bodies stood. More drinks spilt.


    He jumped/danced on the spot as he yed, grinning at the front row, voice rough but in tune.


    I leaned forward.


    I knew that face.


    Cade Lawson. Yvaine¡¯s boy.


    Right, she¡¯d said he yed at a bar.


    I just hadn¡¯t expected this.


    He looked exactly like the clips she¡¯d sent me.


    Same lean build. Same too-pretty face.


    The lights smoothed out every w.


    Not that he had many.


    I raised my phone and snapped a photo, then sent it to Yvaine.


    [Your BF can sing.]


    Daniel returned to the table and sat down across from me and Priya.


    ¡®All sorted,¡¯ he said lightly. ¡®They¡¯ll bring it over in a minute.¡¯


    ¡®Why are you all out of breath?¡¯ I asked. ¡®You look like you¡¯ve been jogging.¡¯

 Chapter 194 - 195 Spiked Drink

    <h4>Chapter 194: Chapter 195 Spiked Drink</h4>


    ¡®Do I?¡¯ Daniel ran a hand over his face. ¡®The bar¡¯s crowded. I had to elbow a couple of guys to get my orders heard.¡¯


    On stage, Cade strummed hisst note and gave a quick bow.


    The crowd erupted.


    ¡®One more!¡¯ someone shouted.


    Others echoed it, louder and louder, but Cade didn¡¯t stop.


    He walked off with his guitar.


    A few voices groaned as the lights shifted back to dim red and amber.


    ¡®Do youe to this kind of ce often?¡¯ Priya asked.


    ¡®What, you mean a bar? No, not really.¡¯ Daniel shook his head. ¡®I¡¯m more of an indoor cat.¡¯


    ¡®I find that hard to believe,¡¯ I put in.


    Priya nodded her agreement.


    ¡®Why?¡¯ Daniel asked.


    ¡®Because you¡¯ve got a tan and you¡¯ve got muscles,¡¯ I pointed out.


    ¡®Both could be obtained indoors.¡¯


    ¡®Didn¡¯t peg you as the type to use a tanning bed.¡¯


    Daniel gave an awkwardugh. ¡®Okay, enough about me. What about you, Mirabelle, Priya? What do you girls do when you¡¯re not hunched over a sketchpad?¡¯


    A server approached our table with a tray.


    ¡®Sherry cobbler.¡¯ He set down a ss of golden cocktail.


    ¡®For you.¡¯ Daniel pushed the ss towards me. ¡®You said you wanted low alcohol. This one¡¯s basically fruit and sugar.¡¯


    ¡®Hugo spritz.¡¯ The server set down another ss.


    Daniel nudged the ss towards Priya. ¡®I know you like green.¡¯


    ¡®R¨¦my Martin Louis XIII Cognac, neat.¡¯


    I raised an eyebrow. ¡®You sure know how to order drinks at a bar.¡¯


    Daniel shrugged, sheepish. ¡®I hope it¡¯s okay?¡¯


    ¡®Sure. I said I was picking up the tab.¡¯


    I picked up my ss.


    It was cold to the touch, the stem slightly damp.


    ¡®Don¡¯t drink that!¡¯


    The shout came from behind me.


    I was already raising the ss.


    Then a hand caught my wrist.


    Strong grip. Warm fingers.


    ¡®Don¡¯t. There¡¯s something in it.¡¯


    I looked up, surprised.


    Cade Lawson took the ss from me and set it down hard on the table.


    ¡®Who the hell are you?¡¯ Daniel demanded.


    His eyes flicked down at the ss, then back up at Cade¡¯s face.


    The server hadn¡¯t walked off. Still hovering nearby.


    Cade turned and yanked him forward by the cor.


    ¡®What the fuck did you put in her drink?¡¯


    The guy iled, tried to step back, couldn¡¯t.


    I stood up slowly. ¡®What¡¯s going on?¡¯


    Cade didn¡¯t take his eyes off the guy.


    ¡®I saw him in the storeroom. He poured something white into one of the sses. It looked like powder. Then he walked straight over here.¡¯


    I nced down.


    The drink looked like any other sherry cobbler, translucent amber with a reddish undertone.


    ¡®Why the hell would you spike my drink?¡¯


    The server shook his head so fast his ear pierced studs rattled. ¡®I didn¡¯t! I swear!¡¯


    Cade let go and shoved him back.


    He stumbled into a chair and barely caught himself.


    ¡®You were hiding behind the liquor shelves. I saw you add something. You ran the second I stood up.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯ve got it wrong! I didn¡¯t do anything¡ª¡¯


    Cade went to pick up the ss. ¡®The drink¡¯s right here. We can¡ª¡¯


    He didn¡¯t finish.


    Daniel stood up so fast his chair scraped the floor.


    He marched over and punched the server in the face.


    ¡®You think you can drug us?¡¯ he yelled. ¡®What the fuck were you trying to do?¡¯


    The server stumbled back, eyes wide, hand going straight to his jaw.


    Daniel leaned in and got right in the guy¡¯s face.


    A secondter, the guy kicked Daniel in the ribs.


    ¡®Back the fuck off! I didn¡¯t do anything!¡¯


    ¡®You dosed the drinks. You¡¯re lucky I¡¯m not dragging you outside.¡¯


    ¡®I didn¡¯t! You¡¯re lying!¡¯


    They went for each other.


    Daniel didn¡¯t hold back.


    The server got one elbow in, then another.


    By the third, they were grabbing at each other¡¯s cors and swinging in every direction.


    One of them hit the table.


    It flipped.


    The whole thing tipped sideways.


    ss shattered across the tiles.


    Cut fruit slid onto the floor, half-smashed.


    Liquid streaked across the concrete, soaked into napkins, and spilt down Daniel¡¯s trousers.


    Music cut off mid-beat.


    Screaming started.


    People backed away, chairs scraped, someone knocked over a speaker.


    I stared down at the mess, brows drawn tight.


    I stepped around a broken te, scanned the ground.


    The ss was gone.


    Cade reached for the server¡¯s arm. ¡®Stop it, both of you!¡¯


    I moved in. ¡®Enough. Everyone shut up and back off.¡¯


    Priya grabbed Daniel¡¯s elbow.


    I shoved a chair out of the way and pulled at the server¡¯s shoulder.


    Cade stepped in from the other side.


    It took all three of us to get them apart.


    Daniel was breathing hard.


    The server had a split lip, blood dripping from his chin.


    He doubled over and spat onto the tiles.


    I dragged Daniel a few steps back. ¡®Calm down. What the hell was that?¡¯


    ¡®He tried to drug you. I had to do something.¡¯


    ¡®This is a public ce. Not a back alley. Use your head.¡¯


    ¡®I thought this ce was legit. I didn¡¯t know this was gonna happen.¡¯ He looked at me, shamefaced. ¡®I¡¯m sorry.¡¯


    I touched his shoulder. ¡®Not your fault. Now breathe.¡¯


    A man came rushing over.


    Mid-fifties, wide frame, sweat soaking through his cor.


    His name tag said Vic.


    ¡®I¡¯m the manager. What¡¯s going on here?¡¯


    I turned to him. ¡®That¡¯s what I¡¯d like to know.¡¯


    Before he could open his mouth, Daniel cut in. ¡®This guy spiked our drinks. I want to know if he did it on his own or if someone told him to.¡¯


    The server shook his head. ¡®I didn¡¯t. You¡¯ve got the wrong idea.¡¯


    ¡®Then show us the footage,¡¯ Daniel demanded. ¡®Pull the security cam. Let¡¯s see what really happened.¡¯


    ¡®I didn¡¯t put anything in the drink¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Someone saw you do it. Still going to lie?¡¯


    Before the server could answer, a sharp siren cut through the front door.

 Chapter 195 - 196 Motive

    <h4>Chapter 195: Chapter 196 Motive</h4>


    Vic jumped like he¡¯d been jabbed. ¡®Who the hell called the cops?!¡¯


    He turned to me, wide-eyed. ¡®It¡¯s just a scuffle. What the hell did you call the cops for?¡¯


    ¡®I didn¡¯t,¡¯ I said. ¡®We were a little busy breaking up the brawl.¡¯


    Cade stepped forward. ¡®Probably a customer. Plenty of people saw the fight.¡¯


    Vic red at him. ¡®Why are you on their side? Look what they did to my ce!¡¯


    Cade nodded at the server. ¡®He drugged a drink. People have the right to lose their shit over that. And we all saw who knocked the table over. Might¡¯ve been deliberate.¡¯


    Vic¡¯s face turned red. His stomach strained against his buttons as he puffed up. ¡®You¡¯re seriously siding with them? I write your cheques.¡¯


    Cade nced at me. ¡®She¡¯s my friend. I sing here, I don¡¯t belong to you.¡¯


    The front door swung open.


    Two cops stepped in.


    ¡®What¡¯s going on? Who started it?¡¯


    Vic hurried over, hands half-raised like he was surrendering. ¡®Officers, it¡¯s nothing. Just a misunderstanding.¡¯


    The tall one in front looked past him. ¡®We got a report of assault.¡¯


    ¡®It wasn¡¯t that serious!¡¯ Vic said quickly. ¡®One drunk customer got into it with a server. It didn¡¯t escte.¡¯


    I walked straight up to the officers.


    ¡®We weren¡¯t drunk. We didn¡¯t start anything. Someone drugged our drinks. That¡¯s the part you should care about.¡¯


    The tall officer nced at the manager, frowning.


    Vic stiffened.


    ¡®No one was drugged! We run a clean ce. This is nothing, really. We can sort it ourselves.¡¯


    ¡®Pull up the security footage,¡¯ the other office suggested.


    Cade stepped forward. ¡®There¡¯s no camera in the storeroom. The one outside shows him carrying the drinks in and out, but I was inside when it happened. I saw him dump something into the ss.¡¯


    The server staggered upright, face blotchy, eyes rimmed red.


    ¡®I didn¡¯t do anything!¡¯ he shouted. ¡®He¡¯s lying, I didn¡¯t touch the drinks!¡¯


    He looked barely older than me, scrawny with a baby face and a split lip.


    A few guests near the bar started muttering.


    The tall officer sighed and looked around.


    ¡®All of you¡ªstation. We¡¯ll sort it there.¡¯


    Cade and I agreed immediately.


    Daniel tugged on my sleeve and lowered his voice. ¡®I hit him pretty hard. Cops might not love that. Can¡¯t we just handle it quietly?¡¯


    ¡®The guy¡¯s lip¡¯s just split. He¡¯s not in a body bag. If there¡¯s any damages, I¡¯ll pay. Let¡¯s move.¡¯


    Daniel gave a stiff nod.


    The server held his ground.


    No matter how many questions they threw at him, he repeated the same answer: he hadn¡¯t touched the drinks.


    The bar¡¯s security footage didn¡¯t show much, just a blurry view of him walking in and out of the storeroom.


    Eventually, one of the officers came over, rubbing his temple. ¡®There¡¯s no hard evidence either way. We¡¯re rmending a settlement.¡¯


    I¡¯d barely stepped out of the interview room when my phone buzzed.


    Ashton.


    ¡®It¡¯s ten. Are you still out at dinner?¡¯ he asked.


    ¡®Not exactly.¡¯ I exined what had happened and added, ¡®It¡¯s not over yet. Might be a while before I get back.¡¯


    One of the officers was calling my name.


    ¡®I¡¯ve got to go,¡¯ I said quickly. ¡®It¡¯s nothing serious. Don¡¯t stress.¡¯


    I ended the call and walked into the room they¡¯d set aside for the mediation.


    The manager and the server were already there, sitting across from each other at a grey stic table, both looking like they¡¯d rather be anywhere else.


    Vic dragged his lips into a forced grin. ¡®All just a misunderstanding. Since you know Cade Lawson, that makes us friends too. Next time you stop by, drinks on the house.¡¯


    He sounded drained, like he just wanted the night to end.


    I didn¡¯t answer right away.


    The server burst into tears.


    ¡®I¡¯m just a student. I work part-time here. If they fire me, I won¡¯t have enough for tuition next semester. My mum¡¯s in hospital. She needs medication. I don¡¯t have the money.¡¯


    Cade leaned against the wall, arms crossed. ¡®You just gave us a motive. If you were really just trying to do your job, you wouldn¡¯t be spiking drinks. Who told you to do it? How much were you paid?¡¯


    ¡®I didn¡¯t spike anything!¡¯ The server scrubbed at his face with both hands, red-eyed and loud. ¡®That cocktail needed powdered sugar. That¡¯s what I added. You saw wrong.¡¯


    ¡®Liar. Sherry cobbler uses fresh fruit, not powdered sugar.¡¯


    The server nced at Vic. ¡®Boss told us to do it. Powdered sugar is cheaper than muddling fruit.¡¯


    Vic red at him, but said nothing.


    The server yelled, ¡®You¡¯re framing me! And that guy beat me up! I¡¯m the victim here!¡¯


    His voice shot up with every sentence, echoing off the ster walls.


    Chairs creaked.


    Someone coughed.


    The manager tried to step in again, muttering vague crap about peace and understanding.


    Cade rolled his eyes.


    I said nothing for a while.


    There was no footage from the storeroom.


    The drinks were gone, soaked into the floor.


    The only thing we had was Cade¡¯s word, and no one else saw it happen.


    With the cops pushing for a settlement and no proof to back us up, I gave in.


    There wasn¡¯t anything left to fight with.


    By the time we walked out, it was nearly eleven.


    Everyone looked wrung out.


    We¡¯d barely stepped into the lobby when the doors shoved open.


    Yvaine stormed in, hair tangled, coat thrown over a satin pyjama set covered in moons and stars.


    ¡®What the hell happened? Why are you at a police station?¡¯


    ¡®How¡¯d you know I was here?¡¯ I went up to her.


    ¡®Cade messaged me. You okay?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m fine.¡¯


    She turned to Cade. ¡®You?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m okay. I¡¯ve got it handled. You didn¡¯t need toe.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah, I did. I was worried.¡¯


    ¡®What are you all doing here?¡¯ a man¡¯s voice asked.

 Chapter 196 - 197 The Ex and The New BF

    <h4>Chapter 196: Chapter 197 The Ex and The New BF</h4>


    We turned.


    Cassian Langford stepped out of an interview room, ck suit pressed, long coat slung over one arm.


    He looked at me as he spoke, but his eyes slid across to Yvaine, then paused on Cade, who stood close beside her.


    He frowned.


    Cade leaned against Yvaine, draping himself across her shoulder with a limp groan. ¡®Yvie,¡¯ he muttered, dragging the vowel, ¡®I¡¯m hurting so bad.¡¯


    Cassian red.


    I turned away, suppressing a smile.


    ¡®What are you doing here?¡¯ I threw his question back at him.


    ¡®Car ident,¡¯ Cassian answered, distracted.


    His eyes never left Yvaine, who was busy checking Cade for injuries.


    Cade pointed at his cheek. ¡®Here. Got hit trying to break up the fight.¡¯


    Yvaine touched his face carefully, fingertips grazing the spot. ¡®Right there?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah.¡¯ He winced. ¡®Pretty sure I took a punch. Might¡¯ve been more than one.¡¯


    He nced at Cassian. His voice dropped again. ¡®I think I¡¯ve got a headache now. What if it¡¯s a concussion?¡¯


    ¡®We¡¯re going to the hospital,¡¯ Yvaine said quickly. ¡®Everything settled here? Can we go?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah,¡¯ Cade answered. ¡®We¡¯re done.¡¯


    ¡®Good. I¡¯ve got the car out front.¡¯ Then she turned to me. ¡®Mira, you¡¯reing too.¡¯


    I shook my head. ¡®I¡¯m fine. Not a scratch. Just take him. He was the one who got hit. Besides, I¡¯ve got to take Priya home.¡¯


    Yvaine nodded. ¡®Talk to you tomorrow.¡¯


    She wrapped her arm around Cade¡¯s waist and helped him limp out.


    Halfway to the door, Cade twisted around and shot Cassian a triumphant grin.


    Cassian¡¯s jaw flexed.


    He yanked at his tie hard enough to jerk his cor.


    ¡®I ordered an Uber,¡¯ I told Priya. ¡®Should be here in five minutes.¡¯


    She nodded.


    Already an introvert, the experience tonight probably hadn¡¯t encouraged her to frequent bars more often.


    ¡®That white-haired twink¡¯s her boyfriend?¡¯ Cassian demanded.


    I snorted. ¡®Why do you care?¡¯


    Cassian¡¯s lips pressed together.


    His fingers clenched around the coat in his hand until the fabric warped.


    ¡®Her taste¡¯s gone to shit,¡¯ he muttered. ¡®That kid looks like he still gets carded.¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s better-looking than you. And younger. And definitely has more hair.¡¯


    I walked out with Daniel and Priya.


    Cassian followed.


    He caught up to us on the steps. ¡®I¡¯ll drive you.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t stop. ¡®No.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s not a big deal. You¡¯re not getting a cab here at this hour.¡¯


    A car pulled up next to us.


    I checked the number, opened the back door, waved Priya in, then turned to Daniel. ¡®Get in.¡¯


    A horn red behind us.


    I nced back.


    A ck Maybach had just turned onto this street.


    Ashton climbed out, mmed the door, and strode towards me.


    I looked at Daniel. ¡®Can you see her home?¡¯


    ¡®Sure. Leave it to me.¡¯


    ¡®Text me when you reach home,¡¯ I told Priya.


    She nodded.


    ¡®You too,¡¯ I said to Daniel.


    ¡®What about you?¡¯ he asked.


    ¡®I¡¯ll be fine. Don¡¯t worry.¡¯


    The car pulled away.


    I met Ashton halfway.


    He reached for my hand.


    ¡®What are you doing here?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®Didn¡¯t like the idea of you walking out of a precinct alone,¡¯ he said. His fingers tightened around mine. ¡®Tell me exactly what happened. Someone spiked your drink?¡¯


    ¡®There¡¯s no proof. I didn¡¯t touch the drink, and it got smashed in the fight. Police said there¡¯s nothing to go on.¡¯


    We¡¯d just reached the Maybach when a voice barked behind us.


    ¡®Ashton! You seriously didn¡¯t see me?¡¯


    I turned.


    Cassian was stomping down the pavement.


    Ashton slowed his steps. ¡®What¡¯re you doing here?¡¯


    Cassian¡¯s nostrils red. ¡®Nice. Real nice. I¡¯m just standing around all night while everyone else is pairing off like it¡¯s prom night.¡¯


    ¡®Get to the point.¡¯ Ashton tapped his watch.


    ¡®We haven¡¯t caught up in a while. Let¡¯s grab dinner sometime.¡¯


    ¡®Sure. I¡¯ll check my calendar.¡¯


    He opened the passenger door for me.


    I got in without ncing back.


    Ashton slid in beside me, shut the door, and the engine kicked to life.


    The car was quiet, save for the asional swish of tyres on wet tarmac.


    Streetlights red and vanished across Ashton¡¯s face as we drove.


    ¡®So,¡¯ he said, eyes still on the road. ¡®No actual evidence of the server spiking the drink. Just Cade¡¯s word?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah.¡¯ I rubbed my fingers together in myp. ¡®That¡¯s it.¡¯


    ¡®Do you believe him?¡¯


    I nced out the window. ¡®I do. Notpletely. But on this? Yes.¡¯


    ¡®Why?¡¯


    ¡®What reason would he have to lie? He could¡¯ve stayed quiet. Let me deal with it on my own. But he spoke up, knowing it might get him fired. He didn¡¯t do it for me. He did it for Yvaine.¡¯


    Ashton hummed. Not quite agreement, not quite disagreement.


    ¡®The server,¡¯ he said. ¡®You got a name?¡¯


    ¡®Caleb Reed.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll have someone keep an eye on him.¡¯


    I nodded.


    ¡®You okay?¡¯


    ¡®Fine.¡¯ I leaned my head against the ss. ¡®I didn¡¯t touch the drink. Still... I wonder what was in it.¡¯


    ¡®Nothing good,¡¯ he said with conviction and disgust.


    ¡®You think it¡¯s the same person who tried to sabotage me at the Aureate Awards?¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s possible. But there¡¯s no evidence linking the two. Yet.¡¯


    ¡®That woman, Dubois. Did she confess?¡¯


    ¡®She told the police everything she knew, but she¡¯d never met the person who hired her face to face. And the old man from the surveince video, he¡¯s out of the country. It¡¯s going to take some time to track him down, with jurisdictional hurdles to clear.¡¯


    I breathed out slowly. ¡®What kind of enemy hates me that much? One failed attempt wasn¡¯t enough, now they¡¯re doubling down? I was barely back in Skyline a week.¡¯


    He reached across the gearshift andced our fingers together.


    ¡®Whoever it is, I¡¯ll find them.¡¯


    ¡®I believe you.¡¯

 Chapter 197 - 198 Lost Phone

    <h4>Chapter 197: Chapter 198 Lost Phone</h4>


    Daniel showed up at the studio looking like he¡¯d crawled out of a drain.


    Dark circles under his eyes, cor wrinkled, hair stiff from not being washed.


    He threw a brittle grin at Priya as he walked past her.


    ¡®Morning, Mirabelle.¡¯ His face brightened the second he saw me.


    ¡®Morning.¡¯ I was halfway to my desk when Priya came pounding up the stairs.


    ¡®Mirabelle! Got an invite this morning. Some forum thing. You want to go?¡¯


    She shoved her phone between me and Daniel.


    The screen showed a blocky logo with tiny stars and that over-familiar ssy-blue background everyone used for corporate invites.


    ¡®Constetion Gem & Jade Forum,¡¯ I read. ¡®Heard of it. They¡¯re holding it in Sunset City this year. Not far.¡¯


    Despite the name, it wasn¡¯t exactly the Met G of gemstones.


    But the guest list caught my eye.


    Right under the name of an industry heavyweight was my uni advisor, the only professor I¡¯d ever liked.


    ¡®They¡¯re offering you five minutes on stage,¡¯ Priya said. ¡®You¡¯d talk about your design approach, plug the studio, maybe tease some new pieces. But they said it¡¯s not mandatory. You can just sit in the crowd and still get full travel and hotel covered, same perks as the other speakers. And they¡¯ll pay for two.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t have to think long.


    ¡®If they¡¯re footing the bill, I¡¯m not saying no. You¡¯reing with me.¡¯


    Priya pressed a fist to her mouth and coughed twice. Her voice came out scratchy. ¡®I¡¯ve got a cold. Might have to skip it...¡¯


    She did sound rougher than yesterday.


    Besides, I doubted she wanted to sit in a crowd and risk being dragged into small talk.


    Daniel piped up. ¡®Take me instead. I wanna see what this stuff¡¯s like.¡¯


    I shrugged. ¡®Fine. It¡¯s noting out of my pocket.¡¯


    ¡®Yes!¡¯ He grinned.


    Three dayster, we caught the morning flight to Sunset City.


    Someone from the forum met us at the airport and drove us straight to the hotel.


    I¡¯d already decided I¡¯d use the five-minute speaking slot.


    The forum wasn¡¯t open to the public, but the seats would be filled with people who actually mattered¡ªbuyers, curators, gallery heads, other designers.


    I wrote my remarks on the ne, rehearsed in the room that night.


    Before the event began, I arranged to visit Professor Veldman.


    He still carried the same chipped coffee mug with him, even when travelling, and had the same habit of looking up when speaking, as if he were talking to the sky.


    I stayed for forty-three minutes and left with three new notes and a reminder to speak slower.


    The forum itself was held inside the hotel.


    There was a table by the doors where everyone had to surrender phones andptops, to prevent leaks of new, unreleased designs.


    My time slot didn¡¯te untilte.


    By then, the lights had made the room stuffy and most of the audience looked like they¡¯d rather be horizontal.


    I stepped up anyway, gripped the edge of the podium, and spoke loud and clear.


    After I stepped down, I¡¯d barely walked five metres before the name cards starteding.


    By the end of the night, I¡¯d tucked nearly a hundred into my bag.


    Forewarned by Professor Veldman, I¡¯d prepared a stack of my own cards and handed them out to those I wanted to have further conversations with.


    All in all, the first night was a sess.


    But Daniel¡¯s face didn¡¯t seem to agree.


    ¡®What¡¯s wrong?¡¯ I asked.


    He looked pissed off and guilty at the same time. ¡®Your phone¡¯s gone. Someone stole it.¡¯


    I blinked. ¡®Come again?¡¯


    ¡®Gone. Vanished. The organisers just pulled me aside. They think a cleaner took it.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re telling me someone managed to steal a phone from a table guarded by three staff? In a five-star hotel?¡¯


    ¡®Yes.¡¯ Daniel shoved a hand through his hair. ¡®Three phones were nicked. Yours included. Some guy dressed like housekeeping slipped them right under their noses. Staff only realised when someone else went to get theirs and couldn¡¯t find it. They checked the footage. Bloke in uniform, fake badge, walked straight out.¡¯


    ¡®And no one stopped him?¡¯


    ¡®They were half-asleep, Mira. Sitting there for hours doing nothing. He could¡¯ve danced out singing show tunes and no one would¡¯ve noticed. Hotel¡¯s iming he wasn¡¯t one of theirs. They¡¯ve got no idea who he is.¡¯


    I bit down on my tongue so I wouldn¡¯t say anything that would get me escorted out.


    When we reached the front, a man in a zer and cufflinks was shouting at the poor girl behind the table.


    He gestured wildly at the empty space where his phone should¡¯ve been.


    ¡®Unbelievable,¡¯ he roared. ¡®You think an apology is going to fix this?¡¯


    I would have yelled, too, if it would aplish anything.


    The security footage showed the exact thing Daniel had described.


    A man in a cleaner¡¯s uniform glided past the hotel staff with a mop in one hand and three stolen phones in the other.


    He didn¡¯t even slow his step as he swept them off the table.


    I exhaled sharply and pressed my palm to my forehead. ¡®There were unreleased sketches on that phone. What am I supposed to do now?¡¯


    The girl behind the table looked like she was seconds from copsing.


    Her name tag read Madison.


    ¡®I¡¯m so sorry, Miss Vance. We¡¯ve reported it. The police are involved. We¡¯ll do everything we can to recover it. We¡¯llpensate you, of course. A new phone, but there¡¯s a dy in procurement. We don¡¯t have a spare device at the moment... but we promise you¡¯ll get the newest model before the end of the expo. Three days, tops.¡¯


    She looked about twenty, and already halfway through a breakdown.


    Tearing into her wouldn¡¯t get me my sketches back.


    I turned to leave, but Daniel stepped in front of me and held out his phone.


    ¡®Just got a message from the organisers. They want us at the dinner tonight. Same guest list as the panel. Speakers, sponsors, etc. Your mentor¡¯s going to be there too.¡¯


    ¡®Prof Veldman?¡¯


    He nodded. ¡®It¡¯s next door, upstairs. Private room.¡¯


    We¡¯d agreed to the dinner when signing up.


    I couldn¡¯t back out now.


    I told Madison to send updates if they tracked the phone, promised not to press charges as long as they handled it.


    Walking into that banquet without a phone was worse than I¡¯d expected.


    Everyone else had theirs out, scanning QR codes, swapping contacts.


    I had nothing in my hands.


    My pockets were empty.


    The weight of it hit me like I¡¯d forgotten a vital limb.


    No device meant no messages, no calls, no camera, no ess to my cloud folders.


    I couldn¡¯t reach anyone; I couldn¡¯t be reached.


    But the room buzzed with talk, and I kept pace.


    Professor Veldman spotted me halfway through the appetisers and pulled me over.


    Within minutes, he¡¯d introduced me to three gallery owners, two tech founders, and a hedge fund heiress with sapphire nails and a limited edition Birkin.


    I borrowed Daniel¡¯s phone to log their numbers.

 Chapter 198 - 199 Ashton’s POV: Bad Blood

    <h4>Chapter 198: Chapter 199 Ashton¡¯s POV: Bad Blood</h4>


    The private room on the second floor smelled like truffle oil and aged liquor.


    Cassian stepped forward with both arms spread, grinning. ¡®Took you long enough. You¡¯ve been dodging dinners like I¡¯m trying to sell you insurance. You said you wanted to explore media, so I brought the heads of three production houses. Big names. All sharp.¡¯


    Ashton nodded once. ¡®Fine.¡¯


    He stepped in, eyes sweeping the room.


    Three men stood immediately.


    Their suits were tight across the chest, watches polished, smiles over-eager.


    Then he saw her.


    Rowan Hale sat at the centre of the table in a wine-red zer.


    Her legs were crossed, heels sharp enough to puncture carpet.


    She stood slowly, smiling.


    Cassian caught Ashton¡¯s look, and chuckled under his breath. ¡®You two already know each other, right? Heard you reconnected in Riverbend. She¡¯s back in Skyline now. Thinking of signing with us. Figured dinner would be... efficient.¡¯


    ¡®We had dinner just a few days ago, actually,¡¯ Rowan said sweetly.


    The producers¡¯ attention shifted.


    One of them adjusted his cuff.


    Another leaned slightly forward.


    Cassian¡¯s grin widened. ¡®Great, saves me the introductions. Let¡¯s all sit.¡¯


    He nudged Ashton from behind.


    Ashton stayed still for half a second, then stepped forward and took the nearest seat.


    He didn¡¯t look at Rowan.


    He said the minimum: a few greetings, a few shallow questions.


    The men answered eagerly, but the numbers they quoted, the projects they mentioned¡ªall of it ran grey and thin in his ears.


    He looked at the dishes in front of him.


    Lobster, ck cod, some overplicated beet sd.


    He didn¡¯t touch any of it.


    ¡®Excuse me,¡¯ he said abruptly, pushing back his chair.


    Cassian caught up with him in the hallway outside. ¡®What the hell was that?¡¯


    ¡®I needed air.¡¯


    Cassian squinted at him.


    Then he tugged Ashton towards the corner staircase and out onto the narrow balcony.


    The concrete floor was damp, and someone had stubbed out a cigarette on the railing.


    ¡®This about Rowan?¡¯ Cassian asked, voice dropping. ¡®Didn¡¯t realise you two had bad blood. I thought you got along.¡¯


    ¡®We don¡¯t.¡¯ Ashton stared at the street below. ¡®If I¡¯d known she¡¯d be here, I wouldn¡¯t havee.¡¯


    ¡®You two have history or something?¡¯


    ¡®We were photographed the other night. Whoever took it tried to make it look like we were seeing each other.¡¯


    Cassian winced. ¡®Shit. That was her?¡¯


    Ashton gave a short nod.


    ¡®Brilliant. Now I look like a bloody idiot.¡¯ Cassian rubbed his forehead, muttering. ¡®So you think she staged it? Got someone to follow you, take the photo? To get attention? I don¡¯t want to sign her if she¡¯s capable of scheming like that.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s your guess, not mine,¡¯ Ashton said. ¡®Sign her or don¡¯t. It¡¯s yourpany. Just keep her the hell away from me.¡¯


    ¡®Noted.¡¯


    The tension between them began to loosen.


    Cassian reached into his coat, pulled out a pack of Camels, and offered one.


    Ashton shook his head. ¡®Quit.¡¯


    ¡®Since when?¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s mouth curved, almost into a smile. ¡®A while ago. She can¡¯t stand the smell.¡¯


    Cassian¡¯s cigarette twitched between his fingers. He scowled. ¡®Right. Must be nice. Here, let me light one just to piss myself off. Since no one cares if I die of lung cancer.¡¯


    He bit down on the filter hard enough to leave teeth marks, flicked the lighter, and leaned against the railing beside Ashton.


    Smoke coiled around his ear.


    Ashton tilted his head. ¡®Thought you were marrying the Rivera girl.¡¯


    ¡®Called it off.¡¯ Cassian exhaled sharply. ¡®She¡¯s... just too much drama. She and her parents, damn, I...¡¯


    Heunched into a fullint, voice rising, hands waving, swearing freely.


    The cigarette burned unevenly between his fingers.


    Ashton didn¡¯t interrupt.


    After a few minutes, the rant ran out.


    Cassian gave Ashton¡¯s shoulder a hard p. ¡®I thought you were done with me, you know. After the Harper thing. You and Emmett iced me out of that bidding round, had me cursing you behind your back for a week. Don¡¯t team up with that smug bastard. Stick with me. You know how I operate.¡¯


    ¡®You brought that on yourself,¡¯ Ashton retorted. ¡®Stop messing with Yvaine Carlisle and we won¡¯t have a problem.¡¯


    Cassian groaned. ¡®It wasn¡¯t even that serious.¡¯


    ¡®It made Mirabelle angry. If she¡¯s angry, I¡¯m not interested in being near you.¡¯


    Cassian held up a hand like he was swearing in at court. ¡®I¡¯m done with Yvaine. Ancient history, seriously.¡¯


    Footsteps echoed down the hall.


    Rowan Hale appeared in the doorway. ¡®You¡¯ve been out here a while. The room¡¯s full of heavyweights and I¡¯m stuck smiling like a lowly intern.¡¯


    Cassian looked at Ashton.


    Ashton didn¡¯t speak.


    Cassian stubbed out his cigarette. ¡®Come on, let¡¯s head back. At least say goodbye before you ditch.¡¯


    ¡®Fine.¡¯ Ashton walked back in with Cassian at his side, Rowan leading the way.


    Back in the room, someone nudged their phone across the table.


    ¡®Is this Mr Laurent and Miss Hale? You were just outside. Someone got a shot.¡¯


    Ashton nced at the screen.


    Rowan stood beside him in the photo, three steps apart.


    Neither of them was looking at the camera.


    But the angle was deliberate, close, and caught his face in full.


    Cassian had been cropped outpletely.


    The lighting suggested indoor exposure. The resolution was sharp.


    He looked at Rowan.


    One coincidence could be dismissed.


    Two could not.


    Another guest leaned forward, phone in hand. ¡®It¡¯s picking up fast. Might hit the trending list before dessert.¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s face wasn¡¯t public, but his name was.


    The online spection had already started.


    Cassian had his phone out, barking instructions to someone.


    Rowan exhaled hard. ¡®Ashton, this is a mess. It wasn¡¯t me, I swear. I didn¡¯t arrange anyone. How the hell did they even get into the building?¡¯


    She tapped on the image, squinting. ¡®This isn¡¯t from outside. No ss reflection, no re. They had to be in here. Probably one of the customers.¡¯


    ¡®They¡¯ve got to still be close,¡¯ one of the men nodded. ¡®That post went up barely two minutes ago.¡¯


    No one needed more encouragement.


    All three men moved at once, dragging staff with them, all pretending it wasn¡¯t for Ashton¡¯s benefit.


    Twelve minutester, a young man in a dark windbreaker was shoved through the door.

 Chapter 199 - 200 Ashton’s POV: Paparazzo

    <h4>Chapter 199: Chapter 200 Ashton¡¯s POV: Paparazzo</h4>


    The man was tall, thin, sweating.


    A camera strap was twisted around his neck.


    A restaurant staff member said, ¡®Caught him crouched in the stairwell. Phone in hand. Logged into the same ount that posted the photos.¡¯


    Rowan stepped forward. ¡®Was it youst time too? Who are you working for?¡¯


    The man nced around the room.


    Half a dozen pairs of eyes stared back.


    His lips parted without sound, then finally: ¡®No one sent me. I just wanted the clicks. That¡¯s all. I swear.¡¯


    ¡®Lying.¡¯ Ashton walked towards him. ¡®You¡¯ve done this before.¡¯


    The man¡¯s knees gave out.


    He dropped hard, hands on the floor, breath caught in his throat.


    Cassian grabbed his cor, yanked him up, and dragged him towards the door. ¡®We¡¯ll see if he talks with fewer teeth.¡¯


    The door mmed.


    Two dull thuds followed.


    Then silence.


    Cassian reappeared minutester, sleeves pushed to his elbows. ¡®He cracked. Said someone hired him.¡¯


    He dragged the man back into the room by one arm. ¡®Go on. Tell them.¡¯


    The man¡¯s face was dry, no bruises, no swelling.


    But his arms shook, and his spine wouldn¡¯t hold.


    He sank down onto the floor, legs spread awkwardly.


    ¡®I never saw her in person. Just a phone call. She sounded young. Gave me one job. That¡¯s it. I only have her number.¡¯


    He recited it slowly, digits slurred.


    Ashton unlocked his phone.


    The number was already saved.


    He called.


    The line cut off immediately.


    Automated voice. Number was powered off.


    He tried again.


    Same result.


    He lowered the phone.


    Cassian leaned in, squinting at the contact name on the screen. ¡®Why are you calling your wife right now?¡¯


    He blinked. His face shifted.


    ¡®Wait. That number¡¯s hers?¡¯ Cassian shook his head. ¡®She wouldn¡¯t do that. She wouldn¡¯t.¡¯


    Rowan¡¯s brow creased. ¡®I¡¯ve met Mrs Laurent before. She didn¡¯t strike me as the type to pull something like this.¡¯


    Ashton watched her from the corner of his eye.


    She¡¯d been in the background since the photo surfaced, quiet, observant.


    Now she was defending Mirabelle.


    That threw him.


    Rowan nced at the man on the floor. ¡®Could be a mix-up. Or he saved the wrong number.¡¯


    ¡®I didn¡¯t!¡¯ The man raised his voice. ¡®That¡¯s the number that called me. Every time. If you don¡¯t believe me, I¡¯ll show you.¡¯


    He pulled out a scratched phone, tapped quickly, and held it up.


    Ashton didn¡¯t even nce at it.


    If the goal was to frame Mirabelle, every detail would¡¯ve been nted.


    The others gathered around the screen.


    ¡®It¡¯s the same number he said before.¡¯


    ¡®Multiple calls. Looks real.¡¯


    ¡®Christ. It¡¯s Mrs Laurent¡¯s.¡¯


    ¡®Wait, when did he get married?¡¯


    Their voices dropped as Ashton¡¯s head turned.


    The silence that followed felt sharp.


    He stared at the man. ¡®You¡¯re lying.¡¯


    The man¡¯s eyes widened.


    He mmed his palm against the floor. ¡®I¡¯m not! I¡¯ve got no reason to lie! If I made this up, that guy there would¡¯ve broken my jaw by now! She called, she told me to follow you. She wanted to know who you were eating with, who you were seeing. That¡¯s all. I told you everything.¡¯


    One of the executives gave a dry chuckle. ¡®Looks like Mrs Laurent is the worrying type. I get it. My wife used to do the same thing.¡¯


    Another chimed in, tone light. ¡®Yeah. It¡¯s actually a good thing. I mean, it¡¯s not a paparazzi or something like that.¡¯


    Ashton didn¡¯t speak.


    The air in the room thinned.


    Rowan¡¯s voice broke through, clipped and breezy. ¡®Can¡¯t me her entirely. She probably panicked. You¡¯re always out, dinner meetings,te nights... She¡¯s young. Got in her head, that¡¯s all. She likely thought this was the only way to make sure you weren¡¯t... fooling around.¡¯


    She smiled faintly as she said it.


    Ashton stepped forward, stopped in front of the man on the floor, and drove his heel into the back of the man¡¯s hand.


    The man screamed, spine arching.


    He tried yanking his arm back, but Ashton pressed harder.


    ¡®Say it again,¡¯ Ashton said quietly. ¡®Who sent you.¡¯


    The man¡¯s mouth opened, but only sharp breath came out.


    His legs jerked.


    When he tried twisting away, Ashton shifted his weight, grinding down.


    The man sobbed through clenched teeth. ¡®I told you everything. I don¡¯t know her name. I didn¡¯t see her face. She paid me, told me where to go. That¡¯s it. I swear. Just let me go, I¡¯m not lying. Please...¡¯


    Rowan stepped closer, voice softer now. ¡®He doesn¡¯t look like he¡¯s bluffing. But still... maybe it¡¯s worth asking Mrs Laurent directly, Ashton? One more call couldn¡¯t hurt.¡¯


    Ashton lifted his foot slowly.


    The man on the floor curled his hand against his chest, teeth clenched, eyes wet.


    Ashton¡¯s fingers tightened around his phone.


    He tapped the screen, held it to his ear, and waited.


    Still nothing.


    That same t, synthetic voice came on: The number you have dialled...


    He lowered the phone.


    She should¡¯ve left the venue by now.


    Her phone should¡¯ve been on.


    Someone muttered near the wall, ¡®Guess she¡¯s panicking. Must¡¯ve clocked she got caught.¡¯


    Rowan¡¯s voice followed quickly. ¡®Don¡¯t be too hard on her. She probably just didn¡¯t think it through. No real harm done, anyway. She caught me in the shot, but who cares? I don¡¯t me her. Just talk to her when you get home.¡¯


    Ashton looked at her. ¡®It wasn¡¯t her.¡¯


    Rowan¡¯s lips parted again. Her voice was soft, vaguely confused. ¡®How do you know?¡¯


    ¡®My wife would never pull something behind my back. This man¡¯s story is shit.¡¯


    ¡®But...¡¯


    ¡®If Mirabelle really hired him, he¡¯d have delivered the photos directly to her. Quietly. No one else would¡¯ve seen them. He wouldn¡¯t have leaked them online. That makes no sense.¡¯


    He watched Rowan¡¯s face while he spoke.


    Hershes fluttered once. Her pupils tightened.


    ¡®If my wife really hired him, the photos would¡¯ve beenplete. Nothing trimmed. That post cut Cas outpletely. And what kind of idiot uses her personal number to call a paparazzo directly?¡¯


    Then he smiled.


    ¡®Actually, I wouldn¡¯t mind if she did. At least I¡¯d know she gives a damn what I¡¯m up to. I¡¯d take that.¡¯


    He nced around the room.


    No one knew what to say.


    Ashton added the final nail in the coffin, ¡®By the way, my wife¡¯s out of town. She didn¡¯t know I was having dinner here tonight. This man said he was sent here to watch me, which means someone knew my exact movements.¡¯

 Chapter 200 - 201 Ashton’s POV: Trending Post

    <h4>Chapter 200: Chapter 201 Ashton¡¯s POV: Trending Post</h4>


    Ashton¡¯s voice rang out.


    ¡®Only the people in this room knew I¡¯d be at The Corner Table. So let¡¯s see. Which one of you thought you were clever enough to set this up?¡¯


    Someone blurted out, high-pitched, ¡®It wasn¡¯t me!¡¯


    Another chimed in at once. ¡®I swear, I didn¡¯t even know you wereing until you walked in!¡¯


    ¡®I didn¡¯t have time to call anyone! I just got here¡ª¡¯


    ¡®It wasn¡¯t me either!¡¯


    Their voices ovepped, rushed and clumsy.


    Ashton¡¯s gaze shifted past the group andnded on Cassian.


    Cassian raised both palms. ¡®Don¡¯t look at me. I worked my arse off getting you here. Why the hell would I sabotage it with a camera crew? What do you think I am, brain-damaged?¡¯


    Everyone had spoken now.


    Except Rowan.


    She straightened, forced a strained smile. ¡®It definitely wasn¡¯t me. I just got back to Skyline. I don¡¯t even know how to contact someone like that. And I wouldn¡¯t do something this underhanded.¡¯


    Ashton said, calmly, ¡®Seems no one wants to admit it. Fine. I¡¯ll send the guy to the station. The police will get the truth out of him.¡¯


    Rowan gave a dryugh. ¡®Right. Yes. That¡¯s fair.¡¯


    The youngest of the three executives raised his phone slowly. ¡®Um, the post is trending.¡¯


    ¡®What? That¡¯s impossible.¡¯ Cassian goggled. ¡®I told the PR team to kill the post.¡¯


    He was already dialling.


    Ashton heard the entire conversation through the speaker.


    Someone on the PR end was scrambling to exin that they were pushing it down, but someone else must be feeding the algorithm, keeping it hot.


    Cassian hung up, then stared at his screen.


    His shoulders slumped.


    ¡®They found out who Ashton is.¡¯


    Everyone in the room looked at Ashton.


    He was looking at thements.


    The screen lit up in cold white, lines of text sliding past his narrowed eyes.


    [That¡¯s Ashton Laurent from Laurent Global Holdings. He runs the whole empire now.]


    [Media¡¯s been trying to get a shot of him for years. He always declines. No photos anywhere. Why¡¯s he hiding if he¡¯s got a face like that?]


    [Didn¡¯t think he¡¯d be this young.]


    [Just the right age for Rowan.]


    [Rowan just got back and she¡¯s already having dinner with him? That¡¯s not casual.]


    [Maybe he¡¯s the reason she came back.]


    [They were seen going into a hotel togetherst week. Late night.]


    [Is that confirmed? Are they together?]


    [Could be getting married at this rate.]


    [No! Rowan¡¯s my goddess! She can¡¯t get married this young!]


    [They look good together though. Can¡¯t lie.]


    The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioner.


    Cassian was sweating. ¡®Don¡¯t worry. It won¡¯t escte. We¡¯re pushing it down already. Trending will be cleared within the hour.¡¯


    ¡®Find the agency behind the ntedments,¡¯ Ashton said. ¡®Start with the ones quoting hotel sightings.¡¯


    ¡®Leave it to me.¡¯


    Rowan sighed. ¡®God, what a mess. All this because of dinner? I¡¯ve already posted a statement to clear everything up. People will stop guessing. Hopefully.¡¯


    Ashton didn¡¯t answer.


    She paused, then added quickly, ¡®I made it very clear there¡¯s nothing between us. Just friends. That¡¯s all. My team¡¯s handling it.¡¯


    She tapped her phone and held it up.


    The screen showed hertest post.


    [I have no romantic involvement with Mr Ashton Laurent. We¡¯re friends. Please stop spreading false ims. My legal team has already begun collecting evidence for defamation.]


    The tone was cold, impersonal.


    She¡¯d tagged herwyers, posted it on both Instagram and X, and switched thements off.


    Cassian checked his phone, then nodded at Ashton. ¡®It¡¯s working. Buzz is dying down. Trending¡¯s already dropped two spots. Should disappearpletely in an hour.¡¯


    Ashton stared at the post on Rowan¡¯s screen for another two seconds, then turned away and walked out without a word.


    The night air hit hard, cold, sharp, a wee relief from the stifling room he¡¯d just left.


    Footsteps pounded behind him.


    ¡®You know it¡¯s not me, right?¡¯ Cassian called. ¡®You know I wouldn¡¯t be that stupid. I wouldn¡¯t throw away our friendship over something like this.¡¯


    Ashton didn¡¯t break stride.


    Cassian jogged to keep up, panting slightly. ¡®I swear I had nothing to do with this. The leak, the photo, none of it.¡¯


    Ashton had already pulled out his phone.


    ¡®Dominic,¡¯ he said when the line picked up. ¡®Get in touch with the organisers of the Constetion Gem & Jade Forum. Find Mirabelle. Her phone¡¯s off. I want to know where she is and why.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m on it, boss,¡¯ Dominic replied.


    ¡®Anything from Hadley?¡¯


    ¡®No fresh updates. Police are still digging. Nothing new yet.¡¯


    Ashton ended the call without a word.


    ¡®Are you mad at me?¡¯ Cassian asked.


    Ashton kept walking, long strides.


    ¡®Come on, Ash. Talk to me.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not mad at you,¡¯ Ashton said. ¡®But I¡¯m not going to any more dinners you organise.¡¯


    Cassian grimaced. ¡®You¡¯re the one who said you wanted to meet media guys.¡¯


    ¡®Is Rowan a media guy?¡¯


    ¡®No, but you know how it is. I needed someone, a pretty face, to help keep the conversation flowing. She just happened to be free.¡¯


    ¡®Are you dating her?¡¯


    ¡®What? No.¡¯


    ¡®Sleeping with her?¡¯


    ¡®Hell no. You just asked the same question.¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s eyes cut sideways. ¡®It¡¯s not the same, not to you.¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯s just a singer. Newly signed to mypany. She wanted towork, I gave her a seat at the table. That¡¯s all it was. What¡¯s the big deal?¡¯


    Ashton stopped. Turned.


    ¡®That¡¯s always been your problem. You can¡¯t say no to women. You¡¯re too afraid they¡¯ll stop liking you. Yvaine was right to dump you.¡¯


    Cassian¡¯s face dropped. ¡®Ouch.¡¯


    Ashton walked on.


    ¡®Are we still friends?¡¯ Cassian called out.


    ¡®Depends.¡¯


    ¡®On what?¡¯


    ¡®On if you make any more stupid mistakes like tonight.¡¯

 Chapter 201 - 202 Twice in One Week

    <h4>Chapter 201: Chapter 202 Twice in One Week</h4>


    Daniel and I had just left the hotel ballroom when he stopped in the middle of the pavement, holding up his phone.


    ¡®Mira, look! Rowan¡¯s been papped again. This time they actually got a clear shot of the guy¡¯s face. It¡¯s the CEO of LGH!¡¯


    My stomach clenched. ¡®What did you just say?¡¯


    He shoved the screen under my nose. ¡®This photo. Same guy from before. I knew it. No way they¡¯re just friends.¡¯


    I looked.


    Ashton was in the frame, a full-body shot from the front almost as if he was looking directly at the camera, face inscrutable, mid-stride.


    He wasn¡¯t even close to Rowan.


    Nothing about it screamed scandal.


    Still, I kept staring.


    ¡®When was this taken?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®About half an hour ago.¡¯


    I recognised the restaurant right away.


    The Corner Table.


    Thest time, I¡¯d let it go because Rowan didn¡¯t appear to gain anything from it.


    But now...


    Ashton had been to a hundred dinners with people more famous than her.


    Not once had he been photographed like this.


    And yet with her¡ªtwice in one week?


    Daniel was scrolling, eyes bright, reading thements out loud.


    ¡®People are going crazy. They¡¯re saying they look good together. That they¡¯re secretly engaged. That she only came back to the country to marry him.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t think Ashton was lying when he told me there was nothing between him and Rowan.


    But the longer I stared at that photo, the more it pressed behind my ribs.


    ¡®Can I borrow your phone? I need to call someone.¡¯


    Daniel looked up. ¡®Um, sure. Who¡¯d you need to call?¡¯


    I tried to recall Ashton¡¯s number but failed.


    No one memorised phone digits nowadays.


    ¡®Never mind.¡¯


    Daniel returned to his screen.


    I didn¡¯t have myptop.


    No tablet either.


    And without my phone, I couldn¡¯t even check the bloody news.


    I looked up.


    The moon was thin, high, too bright.


    ¡®What time is it?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®Ten-something,¡¯ he said.


    ¡®It¡¯s thatte already?¡¯ I muttered.


    The event organisers had promised me a new phone by tomorrow if I didn¡¯t mind it wasn¡¯t thetest model, but that was hours away.


    I couldn¡¯t wait.


    Ashton must¡¯ve tried calling. Probably more than once.


    He¡¯d be losing his mind.


    I turned to Daniel again. ¡®Can you check if there¡¯s anywhere nearby selling phones?¡¯


    He stopped walking and tapped at the screen. ¡®Everything¡¯s closed.¡¯


    ¡®What about online? Maybe express delivery?¡¯


    ¡®Let me check.¡¯


    He opened the shopping app, but I could see in his face he already knew the answer.


    He lifted the screen. ¡®Earliest is tomorrow morning. You¡¯ll get one before noon, I¡¯m sure. Just wait for the organisers.¡¯


    That should¡¯ve been fine. It really should¡¯ve.


    But it wasn¡¯t.


    One night felt like too long.


    I needed Ashton to know I was all right.


    Even a two-word text would do.


    ¡®Can you check the delivery apps? Maybe one of them sells phones.¡¯


    Daniel hesitated, then opened the delivery app.


    I leaned closer to see the screen.


    ¡®That one delivers!¡¯ I jabbed a finger at the listing. ¡®Order it.¡¯


    The listing showed a delivery window¡ªorders ced before eleven would arrive within thirty minutes.


    It was already past ten-thirty.


    Daniel whistled. ¡®Now I know why they¡¯ve still got stock.¡¯


    ¡®Why?¡¯


    ¡®You sure you want this one?¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s the only one still avable.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah, I mean, do you really want it, like, right now?¡¯


    I tapped a foot on the pavement. ¡®What¡¯s wrong?¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s 1,199 bucks.¡¯


    ¡®I saw the price. Come on, just get it now before the window closes.¡¯


    He scratched the back of his neck, head down. ¡®Thing is... I¡¯m broke. I¡¯ve already spent my pay. I don¡¯t have the money.¡¯


    ¡®You don¡¯t have a thousand dors?¡¯


    He looked sheepish. ¡®Not right now. My cards are all maxed out.¡¯


    ¡®I can¡ª¡¯ I reached for my wallet. ¡®Damn it, I¡¯d switched to digital wallet.¡¯


    I only carried enough cash for tips or the asional snack.


    The digital wallet was in my lost phone.


    Everything was locked behind fingerprint or passcode.


    No one could spend a cent without cracking it.


    But I couldn¡¯t either.


    ¡®Damn,¡¯ I muttered, then straightened. ¡®Call Priya. Ask her to lend you money.¡¯


    ¡®Priya probably doesn¡¯t have that kind of money,¡¯ he mumbled.


    ¡®She does. She¡¯s stingy as hell with herself, always packing food and skipping cabs. She saves everything. A grand won¡¯t kill her. Just call her.¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯s probably asleep.¡¯


    ¡®Then send a message and find out. If she¡¯s awake, call her. I¡¯ll talk.¡¯


    It was ten-forty.


    Eleven was the cut-off.


    After that, no phone tonight.


    I felt my pulse climbing.


    Daniel typed out: [You up?]


    We stood on the pavement, a few feet from the edge, watching the screen.


    The disy dimmed.


    Still nothing.


    ¡®She¡¯s probably out cold,¡¯ he muttered. ¡®She told me she sleeps at ten sharp.¡¯


    I exhaled, disappointed. ¡®Fine. We¡¯ll try again tomorrow.¡¯


    We turned towards the hotel. Hadn¡¯t even gone ten steps when his phone pinged.


    ¡®Your phone just went off,¡¯ I said. ¡®Check if it¡¯s her.¡¯


    He unlocked his phone.


    It was from Priya.


    I saw her profile photo sh on the screen.


    ¡®Perfect.¡¯ I jabbed his arm. ¡®Call her. I¡¯ll talk.¡¯


    He hesitated but tapped the icon.


    The line rang once before she picked up.


    ¡®Priya? You¡¯ve got a sec?¡¯


    ¡®Mira? Yeah, what¡¯s going on?¡¯


    ¡®I lost my phone,¡¯ I said quickly. ¡®No idea where. I¡¯ve got nothing on me, no card, no cash, can¡¯t buy a new one right now¡ª¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll transfer Dan the money,¡¯ she said before I could finish. ¡®You grab one tonight.¡¯


    ¡®Yes, thank you. You¡¯re the best. I¡¯ll pay you back as soon as I get home.¡¯


    ¡®No rush,¡¯ she said.


    I was about to hang up when I remembered. ¡®Wait, do you have Yvaine¡¯s number?¡¯


    ¡®I do.¡¯


    ¡®Tell her my phone¡¯s gone. Ask her to message Ashton. Just let him know I¡¯m okay, and I¡¯ll reach out once I¡¯ve got a new one.¡¯


    ¡®Got it. Leave it to me.¡¯

 Chapter 202 - 203 Uncontactable

    <h4>Chapter 202: Chapter 203 Uncontactable</h4>


    The second the call ended, Daniel¡¯s phone buzzed again.


    He opened the app, tapped the ¡®ept transfer¡¯ button.


    Priya had sent two grand.


    That covered the phone.


    Ashton too¡ªPriya could pass on the message.


    Daniel stared at his screen.


    His head was down. Fringe dipped over his eyes.


    ¡®What¡¯s the hold-up?¡¯ I asked. ¡®You stall any longer, and the shop¡¯s going to close.¡¯


    He blinked hard and straightened up. ¡®Right. Sorry, I zoned out a bit.¡¯ He yawned. ¡®I¡¯m ordering now.¡¯


    Once the confirmation came through, I felt the pressure ease in my chest.


    Ashton would know I was safe.


    That was enough for tonight.


    We kept walking towards the hotel.


    The pavement was dry, but the air smelled faintly of car exhaust and fried onions from the hl cart at the corner.


    Daniel stopped abruptly. ¡®Wait. That name you said earlier, Ashton. Was that Ashton Laurent?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah.¡¯


    ¡®You know him?¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s my husband.¡¯


    He jerked his head around, wide-eyed.


    ¡®Wait¡ªhold on. You and him? Married?¡¯


    I showed him my ring. ¡®I thought you would¡¯ve seen this a long time ago.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah, I did. I just... I never made the connection. Wait, I mean, if he¡¯s your husband, why the hell¡¯s he messing around with Rowan Hale? That¡¯s just foul. Two-timing piece of¡ª¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s not like that.¡¯ I frowned.


    ¡®But the photo!¡¯


    ¡®It could be staged. Photoshopped. Who knew.¡¯


    ¡®But that¡¯s twice now he¡¯s been caught with Rowan.¡¯ Daniel was indignant, though I wasn¡¯t sure if it was on behalf of me or his beloved singer idol.


    ¡®I believe him,¡¯ I said simply. ¡®He won¡¯t cheat.¡¯


    ¡®How long have you been married?¡¯


    ¡®Not long,¡¯ I said evasively. ¡®Why?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯ve seen the Marilyn Monroe film, The Seven Year Itch?¡¯


    ¡®No, but I¡¯ve heard the phrase.¡¯


    ¡®Then you know what I mean.¡¯


    ¡®I really don¡¯t,¡¯ I said drily.


    This conversation was beginning to put my back up.


    ¡®Guys tend to stray after they¡¯ve been married for a long time. I¡¯m a guy. I know.¡¯


    ¡®That may be true for some guys, but not Ashton.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m just saying, you should be careful. The guy¡¯s rich, right? He could be keeping another¡ª¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t want to talk about this.¡¯


    Daniel shut up.


    We were outside the hotel when he stopped.


    ¡®You should go up, get some rest. I¡¯ll bring your phone when it gets here. I used the hotel¡¯s front desk for the delivery address.¡¯


    ¡®No need. I¡¯ll wait down here. You go grab some sleep. You look tired.¡¯


    His mouth opened slightly. Then he nodded and walked off without arguing.


    I stayed in the lobby, on a stiff velvet armchair that smelled faintly of bleach.


    Ten minutester, the concierge handed me the parcel.


    I tore through the packaging, powered it on, set up the Wi-Fi, made sure everything was working.


    Only after that did I go upstairs.


    There was no SIM card, though.


    None of the apps would let me log in.


    I must¡¯ve added some kind of ount protection ages ago without thinking.


    Everything wanted SMS verification.


    I tried every workaround I could think of.


    Nothing worked.


    Only Instagram and X let me in.


    But Ashton didn¡¯t use either.


    I showered and climbed onto the bed, damp hair dripping onto the pillow.


    The sheets were cool and slightly scratchy.


    I propped myself up and scrolled.


    Ashton¡¯s name wasn¡¯t trending.


    Neither was Rowan¡¯s.


    But when I searched directly, the posts came up fast: threads packed with screenshots, usernames I recognised from gossip ounts, fans tearing each other apart in the replies.


    Apparently, Rowan had put out a statement, said nothing was going on.


    It didn¡¯t help.


    If anything, it only fanned the mes more.


    Onement read: [These PR rifications are useless. Probably not even written by Rowan herself.]


    Another replied: [Actually, if it¡¯s this fast, it might be true.]


    [Exactly! Probably real. They¡¯re just keeping it quiet for now. Next time they get papped it¡¯ll be in wedding outfits.]


    [Don¡¯t care. They look good together. I¡¯m shipping them, deal with it.]


    [Same. Send me the RSVP.]


    I stared at the screen.


    I knew it was noise, just strangers guessing things they didn¡¯t understand, but that didn¡¯t make it any better.


    Seeing Ashton¡¯s name next to hers again, followed by lines of celebration, it scraped.


    ¡®They¡¯re just chatting shit. It¡¯ll pass in a day,¡¯ I muttered, even though I didn¡¯t believe it.


    I closed Instagram, then X, then tried logging back into that damned digital wallet.


    Still locked out.


    After a few tries, I realised I could ess Venmo using facial recognition.


    Venmo had chat.


    And I had Ashton¡¯s contact saved.


    I sat up straight.


    Opened the app.


    First checked my bnce.


    No recent transactions, no bank alerts. Cards all intact.


    Then I scrolled to his name. And Yvaine¡¯s.


    Typed three messages to Ashton, fast.


    Four to Yvaine.


    Nothing came back.


    I flopped down again, one hand still gripping the phone.


    No one used Venmo for messaging.


    He probably hadn¡¯t touched the app in weeks.


    I rolled over, twice.


    Then a third time.


    Then I shoved the covers off and called Daniel¡¯s room number.


    ¡®Yeah?¡¯ He sounded wide awake.


    ¡®Sorry to bother you again. But can you get Priya to reach out to Yvaine again? Tell her to check Venmo. Let me know if there¡¯s anything.¡¯


    ¡®Got it.¡¯


    I kept the TV on, but my eyes stayed glued to the phone.


    Minutes passed.


    Then half an hour.


    Midnight came and went.

 Chapter 203 - 204 Ashton’s POV: Midnight Race

    <h4>Chapter 203: Chapter 204 Ashton¡¯s POV: Midnight Race</h4>


    The SUV sped past the border sign for Skyline City.


    The rear tyres kicked up dust as the car veered onto the gravel shoulder, then corrected course and rejoined thene.


    Ashton pressed his thumb into his palm until it left a dent.


    He hadn¡¯t looked back after the police arrived at The Corner Table.


    One phone call had been enough to get the paparazzo thrown into the back of a cruiser.


    At first, he told himself her phone had died.


    Then every call went to voicemail.


    By the fifth attempt, he¡¯d told Gino to drive straight to Sunset City¡ªthere were no flights at this hour, and he didn¡¯t want to wait.


    Dominic had called to say the event organisers weren¡¯t picking up, probably asleep by now.


    Their PR line forwarded every call straight to voicemail.


    He¡¯d tried the hotel next.


    It turned out LGH owned the property, and Dominic had managed to get the manager¡¯s number.


    Ashton was reaching for the hotel phone when his own lit up.


    Yvaine¡¯s name appeared on screen.


    [Mira said her phone got nicked. She¡¯ll text when she can. Don¡¯t panic.]


    He replied: [Noted, thanks.]


    He leaned back into the leather seat and let his head fall against the headrest.


    The pressure in his temples started to ease.


    His spine rxed.


    His breathing slowed, though not fully.


    The view outside had changed.


    Tower blocks gave way to low-rise buildings and shuttered shopfronts.


    Now that he knew she was safe, he let himself rx¡ªbut only slightly.


    He could have asked Yvaine for Mirabelle¡¯s hotel room number and called her room phone.


    But it waste.


    And some things were better said in person.


    So he didn¡¯t tell Gino to turn back.


    He opened the X app, freshly installed.


    Each scroll brought more posts, morements.


    His name kept appearing next to Rowan Hale¡¯s.


    He tightened his grip on the phone and created a new ount under his real name: Ashton_Laurent_LGH.


    Within five minutes, someone messaged: [Is this actually you? When¡¯s the wedding with Rowan?]


    He almost threw the phone out the window.


    His finger hovered over the tag bar.


    He typed: [I¡¯m married to @MVanceJewels]¡ªthen deleted it.


    He stared at the screen.


    More notifications. More tags.


    The same two photos with Rowan Hale, reposted again and again under different ounts.


    Her announcement hadn¡¯t settled the rumours. It had only stirred them up again.


    He closed the app.


    Reopened it five secondster.


    Typed the message again. Deleted it again.


    His finger paused over the keyboard.


    He wanted to make it clear.


    Wanted to shut the door behind Mirabelle and leave no room for questions.


    But if she wasn¡¯t ready, if she hadn¡¯t agreed, that kind of move would only push her further away.


    He backed out of the post.


    Instead, he took a picture of his left hand, the ring prominently visible.


    He uploaded the photo with a single caption: [Married.]


    Then he hit post.


    Notifications arrived immediately.


    Newments, messages, tags.


    He was about to open them when Dominic¡¯s name lit up the screen.


    ¡®Mr Laurent,¡¯ Dominic said. His voice was tight. ¡®The post with the wedding ring. That was... you?¡¯


    ¡®Yes,¡¯ Ashton replied.


    There was a pause.


    He leaned back again.


    The air conditioning ticked softly.


    His phone kept vibrating¡ªgroup chats, alerts, PR warnings.


    He didn¡¯t check any of them.


    He already knew what Dominic was thinking.


    The Rowan Hale rumours had barely cooled.


    Now Ashton had poured fuel over what was left.


    Dominic exhaled through his nose.


    ¡®Mr Laurent,¡¯ he said slowly, ¡®was that post... spontaneous, or nned?¡¯


    In other words, could they still walk it back?


    ¡®nned,¡¯ Ashton said.


    ¡®Understood,¡¯ Dominic replied. ¡®I¡¯ll speak to thems team.¡¯


    The call ended.


    Ten minutester, LGH¡¯s official ount reposted Ashton¡¯s photo.


    Then came the statement.


    It confirmed the post was genuine.


    It stated that Ashton Laurent was married.


    It denied the rumours involving Rowan Hale.


    It warned that legal action would be taken against anyone spreading false ims.


    Ashton watched it unfold on the screen.


    Mentions and messages kept climbing.


    A flurry of pop-ups filled the disy.


    One blue icon blinked¡ªVenmo.


    He frowned, assumed it was spam, and cleared the notification without reading it.


    ¡®Sir, we¡¯re nearly there,¡¯ Gino said from the front.


    Ashton nodded and closed his eyes.


    Then the phone buzzed again.


    He unlocked it, nning to shut the app, but froze when he saw the name at the top of the message list.


    Mirabelle.


    He sat up straight. His posture sharpened.


    He tapped into the thread and scrolled to the top.


    [Can you see this? It¡¯s Mira.]


    [I lost my phone. Got a new one but can¡¯t log into anything. Venmo¡¯s the only app that let me in.]


    [You¡¯re probably not checking this.]


    [Forget it. I messaged Yvaine, she should¡¯ve passed it on.]


    [Nothing serious. Just didn¡¯t want you worrying...]


    [Guess you didn¡¯t see any of this. Do you have the phone on Do Not Disturb?]


    [Whatever. I¡¯ll talk to you tomorrow after I get a new SIM.]


    There were more. Short messages, scattered punctuation, no real structure.


    She never messaged like this.


    Now it read like she¡¯d typed everything out in a rush.


    Ashton scrolled slowly.


    A faint smile pulled at his mouth.


    He could picture her in bed, lying on her side, typing furiously with both thumbs.


    Probably frowning at the screen.


    Then another message arrived:


    [You probably didn¡¯t see any of this. I¡¯m going to sleep. Night.]


    A cartoon pig snored through a speech bubble.


    Ashton typed quickly: [I saw it.]


    Mirabelle responded right away:


    [!!! You actually did???]


    Ashton: [Yes.]


    Mirabelle: [Good. Did Yvaine tell you I lost my phone?]


    Ashton: [She did.]


    Mirabelle: [You wouldn¡¯t believe the shitshow this panel was. Phone vanished right under staff supervision. Had to buy my own recement, and without a SIM card I couldn¡¯t log in anywhere. You tried calling me, didn¡¯t you?]


    Ashton: [I did. I was worried.]


    Mirabelle: [No need. I¡¯m fine. Were you at that dinner with Rowan Hale tonight?]


    She¡¯d seen the photos.


    Ashton: [Cassian invited me. I didn¡¯t know she¡¯d be there. When the pictures were taken, Cassian was standing next to me. It wasn¡¯t a private dinner.]


    Mirabelle: [I know. I didn¡¯t believe anything they wrote. But there¡¯s something off about Rowan Hale. Every time she¡¯s near you, someone¡¯s taking pictures. Headlines always twist the context.]

 Chapter 204 - 205 Ashton’s POV: Going Public

    <h4>Chapter 204: Chapter 205 Ashton¡¯s POV: Going Public</h4>


    Mirabelle: [I¡¯m not telling you who to eat dinner with. Just... two photo leaks in a row? Keep your guard up next time.]


    Ashton: [The guy who took them is already in custody. We¡¯ll find out who paid him.]


    Mirabelle: [Good.]


    Ashton: [Did you see what I posted on X?]


    Mirabelle: [Didn¡¯t know you had an X ount. Give me a moment.]


    Ashton waited.


    Then¡ª


    Mirabelle: [You announced it? Publicly? Without even asking me???]


    Ashton sat stiff in the back seat, fingers curled tight around his phone.


    The screen red back at him, the three sharp question marks lined up like little knives.


    She was angry.


    She hadn¡¯t said it outright, but he could see it in the spacing, the punctuation.


    He should¡¯ve waited.


    Now he understood what Dominic had tried to hint at earlier.


    But at the time, it had felt necessary. Urgent.


    He¡¯d wanted to shut it all down.


    The spection. The fake flings. The Rowan Hale shitstorm.


    He hadn¡¯t thought past that one moment of impulsiveness.


    But now...


    The car eased to a stop.


    Gino twisted around slightly. ¡®Mr Laurent, we¡¯ve arrived.¡¯


    Ashton lifted his head.


    Beyond the window, the entrance to the Sunset City Hotel gleamed under cold overhead lights.


    A fountain pulsed beside the stone angels at the gate, water spraying over the marble like rain on ss.


    He didn¡¯t move.


    He¡¯d told Gino to speed through two boroughs just to get here.


    But now that he was here, he didn¡¯t open the door.


    He hadn¡¯t told her he¡¯de to Sunset.


    She was already annoyed.


    If she saw him in person, it might turn into something else. Something worse.


    He typed slowly.


    [Are you mad?]


    Her reply came fast.


    [I¡¯m surprised. This was something big. You should¡¯ve said something. We agreed to keep it quiet for now.]


    He stared at the words, jaw tight.


    She was being measured, rational.


    That made it worse.


    He typed, thumb hovering for a second before hitting send.


    [Things aren¡¯t the same now. I want it out there.]


    Mirabelle: [You posted that because of Rowan Hale? You didn¡¯t want her name linked to yours again, so you threw this out to shut people up?]


    Ashton: [That¡¯s one of the reasons, but not the important one. I wanted to tell people I¡¯m married. To you. I want to let the world know that you and I are together.]


    Nothing came back.


    He waited.


    Five minutes.


    Then ten.


    He wiped a hand down his face and typed again.


    [I didn¡¯t tag you. No one knows it¡¯s you. That doesn¡¯t count as going public. I¡¯m not trying to corner you. If you¡¯re not okay with it, I¡¯ll delete the post. Just don¡¯t stay mad, alright?]


    Still no reply.


    Thest thing he wanted was to push her further away.


    Still, he couldn¡¯t stand the silence.


    Ashton: [If I ask properly this time¡ªcan we go public?]


    Ashton: [Would you be okay if I tag you in my next post? As my wife?]


    A long momentter, she said: [Let me think.]


    Ashton: [Okay.]


    The car had been idling at the hotel entrance for too long.


    Gino finally cleared his throat and said again, ¡®Mr Laurent, we¡¯re here.¡¯


    Ashton didn¡¯t respond right away.


    His fingers were still wrapped around his phone, unmoving.


    A beatter, he exhaled through his nose, shoved the door open, and got out.


    As soon as he walked in, a man in a suit came scurrying over.


    ¡®Mr Laurent, wee. I¡¯m Ned Camacho, manager of this hotel.¡¯


    ¡®Dominic told you I wasing?¡¯


    ¡®Yes, Mr Everett called, though he didn¡¯t mention the purpose of the visit.¡¯


    When Ashton didn¡¯t answer the unspoken question, Ned Camacho fidgeted.


    ¡®Which room is Mirabelle Vance in?¡¯


    ¡®Um, give me a second to check, please.¡¯ He jogged to the front desk, spoke to the check-in clerk, then came back a minuteter. ¡®Miss Vance is on the sixth floor. Room 608. Would you like me to ce a call to her room?¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯ Ashton headed towards the bank of lifts.


    Ned Camacho jogged to catch up. ¡®Mr Laurent, I could¡ª¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯


    The man stopped.


    Ashton got into the lift alone.


    The ride up was too short for him to gather his myriad thoughts.


    When the door dinged open, he stepped out, found 608, and stopped.


    He didn¡¯t knock.


    Instead, he leaned his back against the wall beside her door and unlocked his phone.


    Still no new messages.


    The screen showed herst one: [Let me think.]


    His thumb hovered over it.


    She was probably asleep by now. Or pretending to be.


    He stayed there, motionless, watching the timestamp like it might blink and change.


    It didn¡¯t.


    He¡¯d handed her the decision.


    Now all he could do was wait.


    He stared at the door.


    Every part of him wanted to dismantle the door, walk in, and ask her straight: ¡®Is all this still just a contract to you? You said you¡¯d give us a try.¡¯


    They¡¯d been tangled in each other¡¯s lives for months.


    Still, she hesitated.


    Did she still want Rhys Granger? That useless piece of shit?


    Ashton rubbed his jaw, trying to stop himself from thinking in circles.


    He didn¡¯t knock.


    He just stood there, silent, waiting for nothing.


    The phone disy dimmed; he tapped it back on.


    Then again. And again.


    The hallway was silent.


    The carpet beneath his shoes muffled every shift of his weight.


    The only sound came from the faint hum of the lift at the far end.


    He tried to tell himself she wasn¡¯t ready.


    If she didn¡¯t want to go public, that was fine.


    It meant she still didn¡¯t feel secure enough.


    That was on him.


    He¡¯d fix it.


    He¡¯d give her more time. More reasons to trust him.


    Tomorrow. Or the next day.


    Or whenever the hell she stopped flinching at the thought of calling him hers.


    One day, he¡¯d say it loud. To the press, to the board, to whoever the fuck cared.


    That he belonged to her.


    He stared down at the screen again.


    His reflection blinked back at him¡ªdrawn, exhausted, pathetic.


    He shouldn¡¯t havee.


    She didn¡¯t need him here.


    She was safe.


    He could go home.


    No one had to know.


    He straightened, turned towards the lift.


    His phone buzzed.

 Chapter 205 - 206 My Decision

    <h4>Chapter 205: Chapter 206 My Decision</h4>


    My phone buzzed again before I¡¯d even finished reading hisst message.


    Ashton: [If I ask properly this time¡ªcan we go public?]


    The screen lit up with the text, in and cold.


    But somehow I could feel him in it¡ªtense, holding back, waiting for me to say yes.


    I just sat there, staring.


    A minute ago I¡¯d been ranting about the event organisers and reminding him to stay the hell away from Rowan Hale.


    I was about to say goodnight.


    Then this?


    I reread his message.


    My brain stalled.


    My limbs felt heavy, like I¡¯d just walked in from the snow.


    The phone dinged again.


    Ashton: [Would you be okay if I tag you in my next post? As my wife?]


    Okay, so I definitely didn¡¯t misinterpret hisst message.


    A long momentter, all I managed toe up with was: [Let me think.]


    Ashton: [Okay.]


    I tossed the phone aside, pped my cheeks lightly and sat up straighter.


    Did I want to?


    Yeah, I liked him.


    I wasn¡¯t embarrassed about it.


    I didn¡¯t mind people knowing we were together.


    But going public online wasn¡¯t the same as telling Yvaine or my colleagues.


    It meant putting it all out there¡ªevery photo, everyment, every inch of my life, linked to his, tied to his name.


    If Ashton were a nobody, I wouldn¡¯t have hesitated.


    But he wasn¡¯t.


    And I wasn¡¯t, either.


    The inte would have a field day.


    I thought about that photo again, the one with him next to Rowan.


    My chest clenched like it had earlier, tight and hot.


    Okay, fine, if I had to be honest with myself, I was jealous.


    In my head, Ashton was already mine.


    Seeing him next to her made me want to m something into a wall.


    I didn¡¯t want to share. Not even a headline.


    I got up, walked into the bathroom, saw my reflection in the mirror, imagined Ashton¡¯s face next to mine.


    Yes, that was the only ce his face belonged to¡ªnext to mine.


    To hell with it.


    I stood there, staring at myself, palms braced against the bathroom sink.


    My reflection didn¡¯t flinch.


    Neither did I.


    If the price of silence was seeing his name beside another woman¡¯s, any woman¡¯s, then I wasn¡¯t going to stay quiet.


    I¡¯d rather have my life torn apart by gossip blogs than have to live through that again.


    Let theme.


    Let them call me a social climber. A gold digger. A trophy wife with nothing to her name but luck and good taste.


    They could pick apart every bit of my background, drag up old LinkedIn posts, critique my shoes, my hair, my voice.


    They couldpare the gap in our bank ounts and specte about how many zeros he had over me.


    I¡¯d survive it.


    I didn¡¯t care anymore.


    And I knew, without a shred of doubt, that I wouldn¡¯t be in this alone.


    He¡¯d stand with me.


    I stormed back into the bedroom and picked up my phone again: [Let¡¯s go public.]


    I stared, waited.


    And waited some more.


    No reply from Ashton.


    I checked the time.


    It was way past midnight.


    Maybe he was asleep.


    I set down my phone, a little disappointed.


    Then¡ª


    Ashton: [Open the door.]


    I was confused: [???]


    Then I heard a knock. Short, sharp, impatient.


    My head snapped up.


    Jumping down from the bed, I padded to the door, eased it open just a sliver.


    ¡®What¡ªwhat are you doing¡ª¡¯


    He pushed in before I finished, one foot past the threshold, the rest of him following in a clean, forceful motion.


    The door mmed behind him.


    His hand caught my waist.


    He turned me, pinned me to the door, and kissed me hard.


    There was no pause, no restraint.


    His mouth was hungry, his grip unrelenting.


    He crushed me against the wood, one arm locked tight around my lower back, the other braced beside my head.


    He tasted like mint and heat.


    I gasped into his mouth and wed at his shirt.


    I sagged. My knees buckled.


    He caught me before I could slide, hauled me up by the waist with one arm, the other curling under my thigh.


    He carried me across the room, dropped me onto the bed with a thud, and followed without hesitation.


    For a moment, he hovered.


    I stared up at him, lips parted, chest rising fast.


    He stared back.


    Then he dipped again, kissing my jaw, my neck, the soft skin above my shoulder.


    His mouth burned a trail down to my corbone.


    He pulled back just far enough for me to see his pupils had dted.


    He pressed a thumb to the side of my neck.


    The touch made me realise how fast my pulse had be.


    He dragged his thumb lower, skimming the edge of my top, eyes locked on mine the entire time.


    Then he leaned down and bit my corbone. Hard.


    I flinched. ¡®That hurt...¡¯


    He pulled back just enough to exhale, forehead pressed against my throat.


    His chest heaved against mine.


    ¡®Do you mean it?¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯


    My brain still hadn¡¯t caught up.


    Everything felt overheated.


    My skin prickled.


    My chest rose and fell way too fast.


    ¡®That message,¡¯ he said. ¡®To go public.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah, I mean it.¡¯


    ¡®Why?¡¯


    ¡®Why what?¡¯


    ¡®Why did you agree to go public?¡¯


    ¡®Isn¡¯t that what you wanted?¡¯


    ¡®Yes. I know my own reason, but not yours.¡¯


    ¡®What¡¯s your reason? To distance yourself from Rowan?¡¯


    ¡®I asked you first.¡¯


    ¡®Fine.¡¯ I thought about it. ¡®I like you. I don¡¯t want to see your name linked with another woman¡¯s. That¡¯s my reason.¡¯


    His head snapped up, his gaze pinning me in ce.


    ¡®What?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®Say that again.¡¯


    I repeated it.


    ¡®You like me.¡¯ His hand on my waist tightened. His voice came low.


    ¡®Yeah.¡¯ I turned my head away, slightly embarrassed.


    Why did I feel like a teenager all of a sudden?


    ¡®You like me,¡¯ he repeated.


    I felt his heart banging against my ribs.


    He wasn¡¯t even touching me there¡ªI could just feel it, like a drum through the floor.


    He pushed himself up just enough to look at me properly.


    His face was flushed, hair a mess.


    He kissed the corner of my mouth, softer this time.


    I stared up at him. ¡®What about you?¡¯


    ¡®I love you.¡¯

 Chapter 206 - 207 Home Run

    <h4>Chapter 206: Chapter 207 Home Run</h4>


    My breath caught.


    I blinked. Once. Twice.


    I had no idea what to do with that.


    My chest squeezed. My eyes burned.


    I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.


    His thumb brushed over my lips.


    ¡®You don¡¯t have to say anything. Just listen.¡¯ He kept his gaze locked on mine. ¡®You said you¡¯d go public. Let¡¯s do it now. Post it.¡¯


    My throat scratched when I spoke. ¡®You¡¯re serious?¡¯


    ¡®Dead serious.¡¯ He didn¡¯t blink. ¡®Before you change your mind.¡¯


    I let out a small breath. ¡®Fine.¡¯


    My head felt stuffed with cotton.


    I didn¡¯t even think before grabbing my phone off the bedside table.


    I opened X, found Ashton¡¯s name and histest post, hit repost, then hovered over the caption box, biting the inside of my cheek.


    ¡®Should I copy yours? Just ¡°Married.¡± Or should I write something like, ¡°The other ring¡¯s on my hand¡±? I don¡¯t know. What the hell am I even supposed to say?¡¯


    I kept staring at the screen.


    My thumb hovered, twitchy and useless.


    Ashton said, ¡®Post this: ¡°I¡¯m his wife. We¡¯re happy. It¡¯s been a long timeing. Please send good wishes. We¡ª¡±¡¯


    ¡®Stop. Jesus. That¡¯s a freaking essay.¡¯


    I muttered, ¡®I¡¯ll just write ¡°Married.¡± That¡¯s it. Short. Everyone¡¯ll get the point.¡¯


    Typing on my back was ridiculous¡ªAshton still had his weight half on me.


    I had to hold the phone at an awkward angle.


    My hand started cramping.


    The second I finished typing, he snatched the phone out of my grip.


    ¡®Just reposting it isn¡¯t enough. Needs a picture.¡¯


    He opened the camera, grabbed my hand,ced our fingers together, and took a photo.


    The lighting was shit¡ªwarm and dim.


    Our hands looked slightly yellow, but the matching rings caught the light like tiny mirrors.


    He hit post.


    I squinted at the screen. ¡®Give it back. I want to see what people are saying.¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯ He tossed the phone aside, then leaned in again, mouth hot and deliberate.


    I lost thest bit of tension in my spine.


    My hips dropped into the mattress.


    He dragged me in tighter, kissing harder.


    His tie brushed my corbone, cool silk against skin that suddenly felt too hot.


    I felt the press of buttons from his shirt imprinting faintly down my chest as he leaned in.


    His palm slid under my pyjama top and dragged up, knuckles skimming over bare skin.


    I gasped into his mouth.


    He took it as invitation, tipped his head, deepened the kiss until I forgot where I was.


    There was nothing polite about it.


    It was all tongue and teeth, breath and heat, his hand syed across my ribs like he owned every inch of me.


    I grabbed fistfuls of his jacket, wrinkled thepels, tried to pull him closer even though there was no space left.


    His thigh slotted between mine, pressing up just enough to make my breath stutter.


    He moved lower, teeth grazing the corner of my jaw.


    Then my neck.


    Then down to the line of my shoulder.


    Every kiss left a trail of heat that burned under my skin, tingling after he moved on.


    His mouth worked thoroughly, like he was trying to memorise me through taste and touch.


    ¡®Ashton,¡¯ I breathed, half a plea, half a warning.


    He grinned against my skin, like he knew exactly how close I was to losing the plot.


    His fingers hooked into the waistband of my PJ bottoms, but didn¡¯t pull, just rested there, warm and possessive.


    I tried to swat him off, weakly, palms tapping against his chest.


    He finally pulled back, but everything under my skin kept buzzing.


    I stared at him.


    His pupils were blown wide, and I could feel the heating off him like steam.


    His hand curled around mine and started dragging it lower.


    He said, rough as hell, ¡®Wanna try something?¡¯


    ¡®Try what?¡¯


    His mouth curved. ¡®Me.¡¯


    I blinked.


    My brain stalled for a second.


    Then it clicked.


    My face went up in mes.


    I turned away, nearly rolled into the duvet trying to hide how hot my skin was.


    We¡¯d already gone public.


    We¡¯d been married for months.


    So going for the home run didn¡¯t sound so crazy anymore.


    Especially with how my whole body felt... like every inch of skin had turned sensitive, flushed, greedy.


    He leaned in again. ¡®Is it okay?¡¯


    I bit down on my lip. Nodded once.


    He didn¡¯t wait.


    He moved fast, unbuttoned, tugged, hands everywhere.


    He yanked my top down, traced the line just under my corbone.


    Then I remembered. ¡®Wait¡ªdo you have one?¡¯


    His hand froze. ¡®One what?¡¯


    ¡®Protection.¡¯


    It took him a second. Then he groaned under his breath. ¡®No.¡¯


    He pushed himself up, eyes scanning the room.


    Nothing.


    He yanked open the bedside drawer.


    Empty.


    He got off the bed, stalked to the bathroom, mmed cab doors, rifled shelves, checked behind every bottle.


    Still nothing.


    He came back looking like he wanted to punch a hole in the wall.


    ¡®Nothing,¡¯ he said, frustrated.


    That hit me with a weird mix of relief and disappointment. ¡®Then forget it. We can... try another time.¡¯


    ¡®No fucking way.¡¯ He clenched his fists. ¡®I¡¯ll call the front desk. They¡¯ll send something up.¡¯


    He stalked to the table, grabbed the phone.


    I shot up. ¡®Don¡¯t!¡¯


    I scrambled across the bed on my knees, nearly slipped off the edge trying to stop him.


    I caught his sleeve and yanked. ¡®Don¡¯t call. Just¡ªleave it. Seriously.¡¯


    The thought of someone knocking on the door with a polite little paper bag made my scalp tingle.


    Especially if it was that sweet girl from downstairs, the one who helped me with the Wi-Fi earlier.


    She¡¯d smiled like an angel and told me to ring room service if I needed anything.


    I¡¯d die.

 Chapter 207 - 208 Plenty of Protection

    <h4>Chapter 207: Chapter 208 Plenty of Protection</h4>


    I pulled harder, dragging Ashton back to the bed. ¡®Let it go. We¡¯re not doing this tonight.¡¯


    Ashton looked down at my hand, his arm still trapped in my grip.


    He let out a slow breath and let me drag him back down beside me.


    His fingers slid against my palm, firm and warm.


    ¡®You really think you can hold out?¡¯ he asked.


    ¡®Yes,¡¯ I said quickly. I even faked a yawn for effect. ¡®I¡¯m exhausted. We¡¯ve got the sponsor event tomorrow, and I¡¯d rather not show up looking wrecked.¡¯


    I started to lie back, but he didn¡¯t let go.


    He pulled me straight into his chest, his voice brushing past my ear. ¡®I can¡¯t.¡¯


    ¡®Then take a cold shower,¡¯ I muttered.


    He let out a short, incredulous sound. ¡®It¡¯s freezing outside. You want your husband to freeze his balls off? Seriously?¡¯


    My face heated again. ¡®Then I don¡¯t know... figure it out yourself. We¡¯re not doing this tonight.¡¯


    He dropped against me like his spine had given out, heavy and hot.


    I fell back with him, both of usnding in the same ce we¡¯d started, except this time he was sprawled right on top of me.


    He buried his face in my neck, breathing hard and fast.


    It didn¡¯tst long.


    I broke first.


    If he kept huffing like that, neither of us would sleep.


    I nudged his head with my palm, grinding the words out under my breath. ¡®Fine. I¡¯ll help you.¡¯


    His head snapped up. ¡®You sure?¡¯


    I nced up at him.


    His mouth twitched.


    His eyes weren¡¯t desperate¡ªthey were smug.


    I narrowed mine. ¡®You maniptive bastard.¡¯


    He smiled, wide and unrepentant. ¡®You offered. Don¡¯t back out now.¡¯


    ¡®Fine,¡¯ I snapped, nearly biting my own tongue.


    His smirk grew wider.


    I slid my hand lower, and he hissed through his teeth.


    The muscles in his abdomen clenched beneath my fingers.


    His breath caught, shallow and uneven, like he hadn¡¯t expected me to actually follow through.


    I paused at the waistband, looked up once more, waiting for a flicker of hesitation.


    There wasn¡¯t any.


    Slowly, I slipped my hand under the band and touched the tip.


    He jerked to attention at once, hips twitching in reflex.


    My fingers circled, light and teasing.


    His jaw went tight.


    The sound he made¡ªhalf groan, half growl¡ªvibrated low in his chest.


    His fingers gripped the sheets.


    ¡®You¡¯re taking your sweet time,¡¯ I muttered, not bothering to hide the wicked lilt in my voice.


    ¡®It¡¯s not a race,¡¯ he said, voice thick and ragged.


    I kept the pressure steady, shifting my grip slightly as I moved.


    His breath got louder.


    His hips kept shifting against the mattress, chasing the rhythm.


    The silk pyjama sleeve of my arm kept sliding down, but I didn¡¯t stop.


    His thigh brushed against mine, hot and tense.


    I was keenly aware of every tiny twitch, every tremble, every shudder.


    The tension built fast.


    I could feel it in the way he breathed¡ªhow each inhale came sharper, heavier.


    His other hand found my waist and clung tight, as if anchoring himself there.


    After a while, my arm started to cramp.


    My wrist ached, and my palm burned from the friction.


    I shifted positions, but he caught my hand again,cing his fingers through mine, still breathless, still not done.


    ¡®Ashton,¡¯ I groaned. ¡®My hand¡¯s going numb.¡¯


    ¡®Just a little more,¡¯ he muttered.


    I leaned my forehead against his shoulder, half-asleep, still moving my hand in slow, consistent strokes.


    The heat radiating off him was overwhelming.


    He was trembling now, whole body taut and straining.


    When he finally let go, his grip on me ckened, and his chest heaved like he¡¯d just surfaced from underwater.


    Hisshes fluttered against his cheekbones.


    His arm came around me, dragging me in.


    I didn¡¯t remember when he¡¯d left the bed, when he came back.


    I slept straight through, heavy and dreamless.


    When I opened my eyes, the room was dark.


    Thick ckout curtains sealed off the sunlight.


    I blinked against the low light and found my face pressed against something smooth and cool.


    Silk.


    I reached up to touch it and felt muscle. Dense, solid, warm.


    Ashton¡¯s chest.


    He was wearing pyjamas now, ck silk, from the look and feel of it.


    Last night he¡¯d been in a full suit.


    Above me, his voice rang out. ¡®Morning.¡¯


    I tilted my head.


    He was watching me, propped on one elbow like he hadn¡¯t slept at all.


    ¡®What time is it?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®Little past nine.¡¯


    ¡®Seriously? I thought it was barely six.¡¯


    I started to sit up, then gave up halfway and dropped back into the heat of the nket and Ashton¡¯s chest behind me.


    His arm tightened just enough to keep me in ce.


    I pressed my cheek into the pillow and kept my eyes shut. ¡®Why¡¯d you show upst night? You flew here?¡¯


    ¡®No flight. Driver got me here in five hours.¡¯


    ¡®You didn¡¯t need toe. I told Yvaine to let you know I was fine.¡¯


    ¡®I know, but I was still worried.¡¯


    He shifted lower and wrapped both arms around me.


    I squirmed a little, gettingfortable, then nced past his shoulder¡ª


    And froze.


    On the nightstand: a neat, ridiculous pyramid of condoms.


    All sealed. All different sizes. Some had matte wrappers. Some had glossy ones.


    There were stripes, neon colours, even a shiny purple one that imed to be cinnamon-voured.


    Sleep vanished.


    I nearlyunched out of his arms.


    He was watching me with that smug, unblinking stare that made my jaw twitch.


    ¡®When the hell did those show up?¡¯ I demanded.


    He caught my hand again andced our fingers. ¡®They were delivered earlier.¡¯


    ¡®They?¡¯ I yanked my hand free. Heat rushed up my neck. ¡®You actually called the bloody front desk?¡¯


    I should¡¯ve stayed half-awake to intercept whatever lunatic impulse made him do that.


    Ashton shrugged, nonchnt. ¡®I just asked for pyjamas. I didn¡¯t know they¡¯d include the whole room service catalogue.¡¯


    ¡®Liar.¡¯ I turned my face into the pillow, too mortified to look at him. ¡®No hotel staff on Earth does that unless you specifically ask.¡¯

 Chapter 208 - 209 Interrupted, Again

    <h4>Chapter 208: Chapter 209 Interrupted, Again</h4>


    He reached across the sheets and nudged my shoulder. ¡®They¡¯re discreet. I promise. No smirking, no awkward looks. You won¡¯t see it in their eyes.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t reply, just pulled the duvet over my head and stayed buried.


    The mattress dipped again.


    Ashton slid under the covers and kissed my ear.


    ¡®They dropped it off hours ago. You were asleep... But you¡¯re not asleep now.¡¯


    I knew exactly where this was going.


    I felt his arm stretch across me, heard his fingers skim across the nightstand.


    Foil crinkled.


    Last night had been... impulsive.


    I got caught up in the moment.


    The way he looked at me, the way he said those three little words¡ªit was all heat and no brakes.


    But morning light did something to that kind of madness.


    I could tell it was bright out.


    I could almost feel the sunshine warming the edges of the room.


    Whatever courage I¡¯d hadst night had vanished.


    But his body was hot against mine.


    His scent filled every breath I took.


    I knew if he kissed me like he didst night, we¡¯d pick up right where we left off.


    Then my phone lit up and pinged.


    The sound cut straight through the silence under the duvet.


    Neither of us moved at first.


    It was the only noise in the room.


    Then I bolted, yanked the covers off, scrambled across the bed and grabbed it. ¡®I messaged Yvainest night. Could be her.¡¯


    Ashton sat up behind me with a grunt and shoved the covers off.


    I felt his stare drilling into my spine.


    ¡®Is it her?¡¯ he asked tly.


    I didn¡¯t answer straight away. I was too busy reading.


    ¡®Yeah, it¡¯s her. Apparently, we trendedst night.¡¯


    I¡¯dpletely forgotten.


    After reposting Ashton¡¯s post, things had escted.


    Then I got... preupied.


    Ashton reached over for his phone.


    We sat there, shoulder to shoulder, backs against the headboard, phones in hand, horny ns aborted.


    Yvaine had sent screenshots of thements with the most replies and likes.


    [The Rowan-Ashton tag got yanked fast. LGH¡¯s PR team must¡¯ve squashed it.]


    [So it¡¯s fake then?]


    [Could be, but then, so could the Mirabelle-Ashton tag. He¡¯s a famous dude. Lots of posts tag him.]


    [Maybe Rowan used him for clout, and he cut her off.]


    [What about the @MVanceJewels one? She posted a shot of their matching rings. That¡¯s clearly Ashton¡¯s hand.]


    [I saw @MVanceJewels in person once. She¡¯s stunning. Honestly, way more suited to Ashton than Rowan Hale ever was.]


    [Nah. Rowan Hale¡¯s hotter, no contest.]


    [@MVanceJewels is just using him to boost her brand. ssic social climber move.]


    [They¡¯re simr rings, that¡¯s it. And the guy¡¯s hand in her post doesn¡¯t even match Ashton¡¯s.]


    [It does. Right side of his hand has a mole. Brighten the image and it¡¯s identical.]


    [I don¡¯t buy it. They¡¯re not even in the same league. She¡¯s clout-chasing.]


    [Who even is this @MVanceJewels? No-name designer suddenly blowing up? Someone¡¯s pulling strings.]


    [If she¡¯s really his wife, that design contest she won was rigged.]


    [Agreed. Rowan and Ashton made sense. This @MVanceJewels came out of nowhere.]


    [They got a full shot of Rowan with him. All anyone¡¯s got of @MVanceJewels is that one photo with two hands. No faces. Could¡¯ve been anyone.]


    [So obvious she¡¯s faking it. Embarrassing.]


    [I heard from someone inside LGH¡ªit¡¯s Rowan. Always has been. Just wait, LGH¡¯s legal team will make it official.]


    ...


    There were three kinds of replies: people who didn¡¯t believe it and wanted me cancelled, people stuffing popcorn in their faces, and a tiny minority who actually wished us well.


    I¡¯d expected it when I postedst night.


    Seeing it now didn¡¯t hit that hard.


    Ashton looked worse.


    He kept scrolling, jaw locked, tapping the screen harder than necessary.


    His own feed was clean.


    Mine looked like a bin fire.


    Mockery, name-calling, and every third post using me of chasing clout.


    When I reposted himst night, the replies were tame¡ªpeople arguing about whether the rings matched.


    By morning, it¡¯d turned into a full-blown takedown.


    LGH¡¯s PR had probably tried to smother it, but someone was clearly fanning the mes.


    He kept reading, eyes narrowing.


    Then he started typing.


    I leaned over.


    He was about to repost my photo, the one with our hands and rings.


    I grabbed his wrist. ¡®Don¡¯t.¡¯


    He paused, thumb hovering above the screen.


    ¡®It¡¯ll only make it worse. You say anything now, they¡¯ll twist it. You know how this goes. The more you exin, the more they dig. You¡¯re too high-profile. You engage, you¡¯ll only be fanning the mes.¡¯


    ¡®So we just let them shit all over you?¡¯ he muttered.


    ¡®Let it cool down. The spike¡¯s already dying. Last night it was everywhere. Now it¡¯s barely top ten. If we go quiet, people will move on. If you post again, it¡¯s another round of proof-hunting.¡¯


    He shook his head. ¡®I can¡¯t just sit here and let them drag you like this.¡¯


    Before I could answer, his phone buzzed.


    He unlocked it, stared at the screen, then let out a sharp exhale that sounded suspiciously like augh.


    ¡®What?¡¯ I asked, leaning closer.


    He tilted the screen towards me.


    LGH¡¯s official ount had just reposted my photo.


    The caption read: [Mrs Laurent says hi!]


    A flood ofments hit almost instantly.


    Less bile, more awkward backpedalling.


    The tone flipped like someone had yanked the room lighting from fluorescent to studio warm.


    He looked smug and vindicated.


    His thumb hovered, then started tapping again.


    ¡®Ashton¡ª¡¯


    Toote.


    He hit post.


    I swiped his phone out of reflex.


    He didn¡¯t stop me.


    I read the new post:


    [This is my wife @MVanceJewels.]


    The new wave ofments hit within seconds:


    [@MVanceJewels and Mr Laurent look insane together. Match made in heaven.]


    [Think about it. If this was fake, it would¡¯ve fallen apart by now. Obviously real.]


    [Where¡¯d all the shit-talkers go? Suddenly shy?]


    [Still think Rowan Hale suits him more, but whatever.]


    [Let it go, freak. Even Rowan said they¡¯re just friends. You lot are embarrassing yourselves.]


    [Who cares if Rowan¡¯s famous abroad? She¡¯s irrelevant here. @MVanceJewels¡¯ followers will soon outnumber hers. Sit down.]


    [Is that really Ashton posting? Or did @MVanceJewels make a fake ount to hype herself up?]


    [Yeah, sure. And I¡¯m Beyonc¨¦. Check the gold tick, you moron.]

 Chapter 209 - 210 No Time

    <h4>Chapter 209: Chapter 210 No Time</h4>


    Even the handful still trying to insult me got shouted down.


    Ashton tossed the phone on the bed and caught me before I could climb out.


    His arms locked around my waist.


    ¡®I don¡¯t like watching you get trashed by strangers.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯ve been dodging interviews for years,¡¯ I said, frowning. ¡®Now you¡¯re dropping back-to-back posts like a wannabe influencer. That¡¯s not going to look good.¡¯


    ¡®Who cares how it looks?¡¯


    He dragged the duvet up and over both of us, stole my phone mid-reach, and flung it to the other side of the mattress.


    His voice dropped low near my ear. ¡®Now there¡¯s no more bullshit to deal with. We have time.¡¯


    Time to pick up where we left offst night and earlier this morning.


    His eyes telegraphed the message to me.


    I blinked back a reply.


    He yanked the covers up again, sealing us in.


    We didn¡¯t get far.


    Someone started knocking, fast and loud.


    Ashton cursed.


    ¡®Mirabelle? You up?¡¯ Daniel¡¯s voice came through the door. ¡®There¡¯s a car downstairs already. The organisers want to take us to the venue soon.¡¯


    Shit.


    I wriggled out from under the covers and lunged for my phone.


    The screen lit up: 9:32.


    The shuttle for the tour wasing at ten.


    I pped Ashton¡¯s arm. ¡®Get up. I¡¯mte.¡¯


    I raised my voice. ¡®One sec! I¡¯ll be down soon.¡¯


    I jumped out of bed and bolted for the bathroom. ¡®I¡¯ve only got thirty minutes. Don¡¯t distract me.¡¯


    I caught his reflection in the mirror as I wiped moisturiser across my face. ¡®Seriously. Don¡¯t start. I don¡¯t have time.¡¯


    He leaned against the ss door and drawled, ¡®Rx. I¡¯m not here to bother you.¡¯


    He didn¡¯te closer, just stood there, a few metres back, arms crossed, watching.


    I grabbed a brush, yanked it through my hair.


    I finished in under twenty.


    Hair pinned back, breath minty, light makeup, just enough to not look half-dead.


    I slid on a pair of hoops and swiped the lipstick across my mouth. ¡®Time check?¡¯


    Ashton nced at his watch. ¡®Nine fifty.¡¯


    ¡®Good. I can still make it.¡¯


    I strode to the door.


    He stepped in front of it.


    ¡®Move.¡¯


    ¡®Nope.¡¯


    I frowned. ¡®What are you doing? I¡¯m seriously out of time.¡¯


    He tapped the corner of his mouth with his finger.


    I went up on my toes and nted a quick kiss right where he pointed.


    It left a red mark on his skin, a perfect smudge of lipstick that made his face look ridiculous.


    Iughed. ¡®Happy now?¡¯


    He scowled on purpose, then grabbed my waist and shoved me up against the door.


    His mouthnded on mine before I could dodge it.


    My breath vanished.


    I pped his chest once, twice.


    Between kisses, I muttered, ¡®Lipstick. That¡¯s my lipstick, you idiot.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t let go.


    One arm was locked around my back, the other gripping my wrist.


    I squirmed, but he kept going like he hadn¡¯t heard a thing.


    Then came the knock.


    ¡®Mirabelle? Are you ready? It¡¯s nearly ten!¡¯


    Daniel¡¯s voice snapped me out of it.


    I made a muffled noise, wrestled Ashton¡¯s hand off my waist and shouted, ¡®Coming!¡¯


    He stepped back, lips stained red.


    I looked up at him and burst outughing.


    I rushed to the mirror.


    My makeup had held up, barely, but most of the lipstick was gone.


    I reached for the tube. ¡®You made me waste all that lipstick.¡¯


    Ashton came up behind me, wiped my lower lip with his thumb. ¡®There, better now. Pink suits you.¡¯


    ¡®You serious?¡¯ I checked the mirror.


    He wasn¡¯t wrong.


    It didn¡¯t look awful, and I didn¡¯t have time to fix it anyway.


    ¡®Right. I¡¯m off. You flying back today?¡¯


    He shrugged. ¡®Maybe.¡¯


    I dashed out of the bathroom, shrugging on a coat jacket. ¡®Text me if you head back to Skyline. I¡¯m swamped today.¡¯


    ¡®Will do.¡¯


    I reached for the handle, then nced over my shoulder and raised a finger to my lips.


    But the second I opened the door, he yelled, ¡®I¡¯ll miss you!¡¯


    Daniel stood outside, gaping. ¡®Is... is someone in your room?¡¯


    ¡®Nope. Come on. We¡¯rete.¡¯


    I mmed the door and strode past him, heels thudding against the carpet.


    The lift dinged.


    I stepped in and turned.


    Daniel was still dawdling in the hallway.


    I jabbed the open-door button. ¡®Move it!¡¯


    ¡®Coming!¡¯ He jogged over, awkward smile stered on his face.


    I stared at the changing numbers. ¡®Had a good night¡¯s sleep?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah.¡¯


    ¡®But you have circles under your eyes.¡¯


    He raked a finger under his eyes. ¡®Yeah, I stayed up a bit. Games. And you don¡¯t look so hot yourself, either.¡¯ He hastened to add, ¡®I mean, you look hot, just not... well-rested.¡¯


    I thought back tost night.


    From the time Ashton showed up at my doorstep, to our conversation, then the abortive attempt at sex, then this morning...


    Yeah, definitely not well-rested.


    ¡®I don¡¯t like the hotel mattress,¡¯ I lied.


    ¡®Oh.¡¯ He stared at the floor.


    The door opened.


    I strode out.


    He hurried to catch up.


    ¡®Wait, um...¡¯ Daniel cleared his throat.


    ¡®Yeah?¡¯ I didn¡¯t slow down.


    ¡®I thought I heard someone in your room earlier.¡¯


    ¡®A hotel staff. To check the plumbing.¡¯ The lies came more easily now.


    ¡®Really? Something wrong with it?¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t know. The shower¡¯s cold. I called the front desk. They sent someone up.¡¯ I spun around to face him. ¡®Why are you so interested in knowing who it was?¡¯


    ¡®I just thought...¡¯ He smiled, sheepish. Then he held up his phone. ¡®I saw your post. Everyone¡¯s talking about it.¡¯


    ¡®Oh, that.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah.¡¯ He nodded.


    ¡®But you already know I¡¯m married.¡¯


    ¡®I know. That¡¯s why I thought it was him in your room.¡¯


    I thought of Ashton in his silk pyjamas, of the small mountain of condoms on the nightstand.


    ¡®Nope. Not him.¡¯ I turned around. ¡®Let¡¯s go. We¡¯rete.¡¯

 Chapter 210 - 211 Ashton’s POV: Culprit

    <h4>Chapter 210: Chapter 211 Ashton¡¯s POV: Culprit</h4>


    After Mirabelle left, Ashton dropped back onto the pillows, one arm flung over his eyes.


    The sheets were still warm where she¡¯d been.


    He rolled over, caught her scent on the pillow, and then looked down.


    He swore under his breath, ring at the tent in his pyjama trousers.


    He shifted, adjusted, then swore again.


    His eyes drifted to the nightstand.


    There, stacked with smug precision, were the three dozen boxes of condoms.


    Delivered far toote to be useful.


    He made a mental note to dock the manager¡¯s pay.


    His phone buzzed on the nightstand.


    Then again.


    And again.


    He reached for it, thumbed the screen to life.


    Three messages. All from Rowan.


    First: [So sorry again about the mix-up at dinner. I had no idea someone would photograph us together like that.]


    Second: [Just saw your post (and Mirabelle¡¯s)! Congrattions! Truly. You two look perfect together.]


    Third: [I really hope that misunderstanding didn¡¯t cause any trouble between you and Mirabelle. Please tell her I didn¡¯t mean to intrude.]


    Ashton dropped the phone back onto the mattress beside him and stared at the ceiling.


    His morning wood was gone.


    His phone lit up again, this time with a call.


    ¡®The pap fromst night cracked,¡¯ Cassian said. ¡®Sang like a choirboy at booking.¡¯


    ¡®Okay.¡¯ Ashton waited for him to continue.


    ¡®I felt bad for the way the dinner turned out. So I called in favours, pulled some strings, got the case¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Get to the point.¡¯


    ¡®He named your stepmother. Gwendolyn Laurent. She sent someone to tail you, hired the pap to take the photo. Both times. Probably also had someone else posting everything online. I didn¡¯t expect that, honestly.¡¯


    Cassian didn¡¯t bother sugar-coating anything.


    He knew Ashton couldn¡¯t stand her.


    ¡®That twisted old bitch is still at it,¡¯ he said. ¡®You keep throwing money at that family, no wonder they¡¯ve got time to cook up shit like this.¡¯


    Ashton stayed silent, phone pressed tight against his ear.


    He waited until Cassian stopped talking.


    Then he said, ¡®Got it. I¡¯m not in Skyline this week. Keep an eye on them for me.¡¯


    ¡®You got it. Wait¡ªwhere are you?¡¯


    Ashton was about to say ¡®none of your business,¡¯ then he changed his mind. ¡®You haven¡¯t seen my post?¡¯


    ¡®What post?¡¯


    ¡®On X.¡¯


    ¡®X? I didn¡¯t even know you had an ount.¡¯


    ¡®Search for my name.¡¯


    ¡®Doing it now... Why does it sound like you¡¯re smiling?¡¯


    Ashton was.


    ¡®Got it,¡¯ Cassian said. Then his voice went up an octave. ¡®You¡¯re married? Wait, no, I knew that. I mean, hell, you¡¯ve gone public?¡¯


    ¡®The photo speaks for itself.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah, but... damn. I never thought you¡¯d gone public like this.¡¯


    ¡®Why not?¡¯


    ¡®Just... not your usual style. You don¡¯t like press or publicity, never did. Now you have X and everything. You did it for her, didn¡¯t you?¡¯


    ¡®Mm-hmm.¡¯


    Cassian whistled. ¡®So, when¡¯s the wedding?¡¯


    Ashton thought of his conversation with Mirabelle at thest wedding they¡¯d attended together, then of this morning.


    His good mood vanished.


    ¡®Hello? Ash? Still there? I asked¡ª¡¯


    He ended the call.


    He crossed to the window, utched it, pushed it open.


    Cold air cut through the room.


    He stood there, breathing it in.


    It helped, though not much.


    Gwendolyn¡¯s name hadn¡¯te up in the initial report.


    That part surprised him.


    The fact that she was involved didn¡¯t.


    She needed to interfere.


    That was the only way she stayed relevant.


    He took out his phone again, called Dominic Everett.


    Dominic answered immediately, already hard at work.


    The LGHms team was containing the story, keeping it off the morning feeds.


    ¡®I need you to erase the posts about Rowan and me, but leave Mira¡¯s post alone,¡¯ Ashton said.


    ¡®Got it, boss.¡¯


    ¡®Find out if Gwendolyn¡¯s been in contact with Rowan Hale. Check email, financials, anything that links them.¡¯


    ¡®On it,¡¯ Dominic said.


    ¡®Reginald, has he left for Africa yet?¡¯


    ¡®Not yet. The appointment¡¯s official, but he¡¯s been in hospital. The doctor said his old condition red up again. They¡¯ve got him on bed rest.¡¯


    ¡®What is it?¡¯


    ¡®Herniated disc.¡¯


    Ashton gave a short, derisiveugh. ¡®He¡¯s faking it.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t need scans or records to know Reginald was dodging the Africa post.


    Again.


    Trying to stall until the end of the fiscal year.


    Ashton had let it slide for a few weeks.


    That had been enough.


    Dominic asked, ¡®Want me to push him to leave?¡¯


    Ashton thought about it. ¡®No. Leave it for now.¡¯


    He checked the date.


    Two more days of Mirabelle¡¯s event.


    The earliest she could fly back was Thursday.


    They¡¯d return together.


    ¡®Dom, one more thing.¡¯ Ashton gave his assistant some more instructions. ¡®If anyone tries to bribe him for intel on the old man¡¯s health, tell him to say he¡¯s fine. Frail but fine. Expected to live another five to ten years.¡¯


    ¡®Got it, boss.¡¯

 Chapter 211 - 212 Tempting Offer

    <h4>Chapter 211: Chapter 212 Tempting Offer</h4>


    By the time Daniel and I made it to the shuttle, it was exactly ten.


    We weren¡¯t even thest ones.


    Half the group trickled in like they¡¯d just rolled out of bed.


    We didn¡¯t leave for the venue until ten-thirty.


    The morning was back-to-back showroom visits.


    Too many logos, too many staged smiles, all blending into one long blur of beige carpet and mood lighting.


    After lunch, they herded us into a conference room for back-to-back brand talks.


    The chairs were hard, the AC was too warm, and the woman behind me kept rustling a stic bag like she was trying to smuggle a roon out of there.


    Near the end, I noticed one of the staff leading a tall man to the front row.


    I hadn¡¯t seen him yesterday, definitely would¡¯ve remembered.


    Broad shoulders, clean navy suit, hair trimmed just long enough to look expensive.


    He looked familiar.


    I pulled out my phone and typed fast.


    ¡®Fabrizio Marchetti,¡¯ I murmured.


    Daniel leaned in. ¡®Holy shit. Valmont & Cie¡¯s CEO? I just watched his interview. He was in Mn, like, three days ago.¡¯


    Valmont was the kind of brand that didn¡¯t do logos.


    Just clean lines and five-digit price tags.


    Marchetti was the youngest exec they¡¯d ever had, and every article about him called it a fluke, which only made him more smug and more famous.


    Women in Europe apparently queued outside airports just for the chance to get a blurry selfie.


    If they¡¯d put his name on the programme, tickets would¡¯ve sold out in an hour.


    The speaker on stage kept talking, something about material sourcing, but no one was listening anymore.


    Half the room craned their necks.


    A few bold ones had already crept up to the front and started whispering at him.


    He handed out business cards.


    I watched, gripping the armrest.


    I wanted a word with him too, but barging in mid-session would¡¯ve looked desperate.


    As soon as it ended, I started to stand.


    He got up first.


    And walked straight towards me.


    ¡®Miss Vance,¡¯ he said, extending his hand. ¡®A pleasure.¡¯


    I blinked, then grabbed it quickly. ¡®Hi¡ªhello.¡¯


    He was tall, lean.


    His eyes were dark, hooded by longshes, the kind that made it hard to tell what he was thinking.


    His ent curled just slightly around the edges of each word.


    I stood there, suddenly unsure where to look.


    ¡®I¡¯ve followed your work for a while now. One of our designerspeted at Riverbend. We only ced third. Your piece stood out. Clearly.¡¯


    I swallowed. ¡®That¡¯s very generous of you.¡¯


    He smiled again. ¡®I¡¯d like to keep in touch. Would you mind if we exchanged details?¡¯


    My spine straightened on instinct.


    Fabrizio Marchetti didn¡¯t ask for contacts.


    People lined up to shove theirs into his hand.


    ¡®Yes, of course.¡¯


    I reached for my phone¡ªthen remembered.


    Shit. I¡¯d only just reced the lost one.


    Half the apps weren¡¯t installed yet.


    I still didn¡¯t have a SIM card.


    I looked up. ¡®I just lost my phone. This is a backup. I can give you my number, or if you¡¯d rather, leave yours and I¡¯ll text when I¡¯m up and running.¡¯


    I read it out.


    He typed it in.


    Then he pulled out a sleek ck business card holder, flicked it open, and handed me one with a flick of his wrist.


    From the inside pocket of his jacket, he took out a silver pen and scribbled something across the back.


    ¡®That¡¯s my direct line. The one printed is the office.¡¯


    ¡®Thanks.¡¯ I took it.


    The paper was thick and cool between my fingers.


    Fabrizio capped his pen, nced around.


    Most of the guests had already left.


    The rest were hovering in the background, hoping for a word with him.


    The lights over the exhibit dimmed slightly, and thest bits of champagne and canap¨¦s were being cleared from the tables near the back wall.


    ¡®They¡¯re probably closing up,¡¯ he said. ¡®Walk with me?¡¯


    ¡®Sure.¡¯ I motioned towards the exit. ¡®After you, sir.¡¯


    He headed for the door with smooth, long strides and spoke over his shoulder. ¡®You¡¯re twenty-four, right? If you don¡¯t mind me asking.¡¯


    ¡®Twenty-three,¡¯ I corrected.


    He looked back briefly. ¡®I¡¯m twelve years older than you, then. You can stop calling me ¡°sir¡±, you¡¯re ageing me in real time.¡¯


    Iughed. ¡®You don¡¯t look it.¡¯


    ¡®ttered.¡¯ He tilted his head. ¡®Though someone said the corners of my eyes are getting lines.¡¯


    I nced up at his face.


    His skin looked taut, jaw clean-shaven, no visible creases. ¡®They lied.¡¯


    He gave a shortugh. ¡®Appreciated, Miss Vance.¡¯


    I was starting to like him.


    On stage or in interviews, he always looked stiff and controlled.


    In private, he was far more personable.


    As we reached the doors, he said, ¡®I meant it, by the way. I think your work¡¯s exceptional. I heard you just left your old firm. If you¡¯re open to it, I¡¯d like to offer you a position. Lead designer tier. Full resources, top billing. You¡¯d haveplete freedom.¡¯


    So there it was. The real reason he¡¯de over.


    I¡¯d guessed it the second he pulled out the pen.


    Still, it felt unreal.


    Valmont & Cie wasn¡¯t just another jewellery house.


    They poached the best.


    Getting through their doors meant instant leverage.


    Even a short stint there could rewrite your entire CV.


    You didn¡¯t apply to Valmont. You got invited.


    I was tempted. Of course I was tempted.


    But I¡¯d just registered my own studio, taken on two privatemissions, and agreed to a high jewellery capsule for a boutique in Midtown.


    I couldn¡¯t just drop everything and vanish to France, no matter how glossy the offer.


    Fabrizio must¡¯ve clocked my silence.


    ¡®I know you¡¯ve started your own studio,¡¯ he said smoothly. ¡®You probably don¡¯t want to give that up. So how about something looser? A coboration, maybe. A joint line. We¡¯ve started nning next year¡¯s autumn¨Cwinter collection. Would you be interested?¡¯

 Chapter 212 - 213 Studio Smashed

    <h4>Chapter 212: Chapter 213 Studio Smashed</h4>


    We reached the pavement.


    The ss doors slid shut behind us, sealing off thest of the noise.


    Fabrizio checked his watch, then added, ¡®I¡¯m only in Skyline until tomorrow. I¡¯d love to hear from you before I go.¡¯


    I nodded. ¡®I¡¯ll think it over.¡¯


    He held my gaze a beat longer than necessary.


    Then, tyres screeched against the curb.


    A ck Maybach rolled to a stop half a metre from my boots.


    The rear door swung open.


    Ashton stepped out.


    ck bomber jacket, vintage-wash jeans, dark sunsses with thin gold frames.


    His hair was messier than usual, fringe damp against his temples.


    He moved to my side, one hand slipping into his pocket, the other adjusting his cuff.


    His eyes, behind the lenses, were fixed on Fabrizio.


    Cold. Measuring. Not friendly.


    Ashton didn¡¯t remove the sunsses.


    He raised his chin slightly and said, ¡®Aren¡¯t you going to introduce us?¡¯


    ¡®This is Fabrizio Marchetti,¡¯ I said. ¡®CEO of Valmont & Cie.¡¯


    Then I looked at Ashton.


    His mouth didn¡¯t move, but I knew what he wanted me to say.


    I smiled and said, as casually as if it were old news, ¡®And this is my husband. Ashton Laurent.¡¯


    The sunsses didn¡¯t shift, but I saw his cheek twitch.


    His eyes¡ªwell, what I could see of them¡ªcrinkled faintly.


    Still, the rest of his face stayed neutral.


    Fabrizio offered his hand first. ¡®Mr Laurent. I¡¯ve seen your name all over the headlinestely. Didn¡¯t expect to bump into you here.¡¯


    Ashton shook his hand briefly. ¡®Hi.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re not quite what I imagined. In a good way. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you.¡¯


    Ashton gave a single nod.


    He nced between us, then asked tly, ¡®Was this a work thing?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah,¡¯ I said. ¡®We were discussing Valmont & Cie¡¯s autumn¨Cwinterunch for next year.¡¯


    Fabrizio caught on quickly. ¡®We¡¯ve wrapped up. I¡¯ll leave you to it. My car¡¯s here.¡¯


    A silver SUV pulled up beside us.


    He raised two fingers to his ear in a mock phone gesture. ¡®Don¡¯t forget to call me.¡¯


    Then he got in and the car pulled away.


    Ashton waited until the SUV disappeared down the block before yanking off his sunsses. ¡®Who was that?¡¯


    ¡®I told you. He runs Valmont & Cie.¡¯


    ¡®He looks fifty.¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s thirty-six.¡¯


    ¡®He looks fifty.¡¯


    I ignored him, turned and shouted to Daniel, who was still loitering behind a food truck, ¡®Go find dinner or something. I¡¯ll cover it.¡¯


    Daniel gave a thumbs-up without turning around.


    Ashton and I drove across town and stopped at a carrier shop.


    I signed for the recement SIM card with my old number.


    As soon as I slotted it in, the phone buzzed.


    Caroline.


    I didn¡¯t need to ask what it was about.


    Franklin¡¯s fraud case was moving faster than expected.


    Last I heard, the Vances had burned through every contact they had trying to stall it.


    Looks like they¡¯d finally run out.


    I answered.


    Caroline¡¯s voice hit me before the screen even lit up.


    High-pitched, breathless, full of fake tears. ¡®You finally picked up! Are you really going to throw your own father in jail?¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s not up to me. That¡¯s up to the cops and a judge.¡¯


    ¡®You¡ª¡¯ She cut herself off, dragged in a shaky breath, then switched tactics. ¡®I¡¯ll return the money. All of it. There¡¯s no need to take it this far. Just¡ªjust talk to Ashton for me. Please?¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s already toote. Let the court decide. If he didn¡¯t break thew, he won¡¯t be convicted.¡¯


    Silence for a beat. Then she snapped. ¡®Mirabelle Vance!¡¯


    Her voice turned sharp and fast, like she¡¯d been waiting to go off the whole time. ¡®You ungrateful little bitch. We raised you, we paid for everything, and this is how you repay us? You want your father in prison? You¡¯ve got no conscience. If I¡¯d known, I would¡¯ve dumped you on some stranger when you were six!¡¯


    She didn¡¯t stop. ¡®It¡¯s not like we¡¯re refusing to return the damn money, but you have to destroy everything, don¡¯t you? You and your filthy rich husband think you¡¯re untouchable. Just wait. I¡¯ll smash that pathetic little studio of yours to pieces if you don¡¯t make him withdraw the charges!¡¯


    I held the phone steady.


    I wasn¡¯t mad.


    If anything, I felt lighter.


    The more she screamed, the more obvious it was that she¡¯d lost control.


    Which meant I¡¯d finally taken it back.


    There wasn¡¯t an ounce of family left between us.


    But if she really showed up at the studio¡ª


    I hung up and FaceTimed Priya.


    She answered immediately, but the camera angle was off.


    Her forehead filled most of the screen, too close.


    Behind her, the floor looked trashed. Chairs overturned. Papers scattered. One of the velvet ne bustsy face down.


    I tensed. ¡®What the hell happened?¡¯


    Priya sounded drained. ¡®Your mum showed up with her whole pack. They were shouting the second they stepped in. I tried to stay calm, but then¡ªthen Preston backed me into a corner. He was about to grab me when Yvaine and her boyfriend walked in.¡¯


    ¡®Slow down,¡¯ I said. ¡®Tell me everything. From the beginning.¡¯


    She sniffed. ¡®They came looking for you. Wouldn¡¯t stop pushing me to tell them where you were. I said you weren¡¯t in Skyline, that you were out of town. Your phone was off, so they thought you were hiding on purpose.¡¯


    ¡®They didn¡¯t believe you?¡¯


    ¡®Of course not.¡¯ Her voice cracked. ¡®I told them you lost your phone. Caroline called you three times anyway. When you didn¡¯t answer, she started screaming. Preston and Serenna followed me around the whole damn ce, demanding I give them your location.¡¯


    ¡®Then what?¡¯


    ¡®Preston got physical. I told him to back off. He didn¡¯t care. Cornered me behind the front desk and kept shouting in my face. Yvaine and Cade walked in just in time. She ran to pull me out. Cade tried to get between us, but Preston wouldn¡¯t back down.¡¯


    ¡®They fought?¡¯

 Chapter 213 - 214 A Mess

    <h4>Chapter 213: Chapter 214 A Mess</h4>


    ¡®Yeah. Cade tried to keep it calm, but Preston swung first. They were grappling near the shelves when Caroline chucked something at Cade. A potted sulent from the reception counter. Ceramic. Heavy.¡¯


    ¡®Did it hit him?¡¯


    ¡®His chest. Not the face, thank God. He dropped hard. Grabbed his ribs. Caroline and Preston froze like they hadn¡¯t meant to actually hurt him.¡¯


    ¡®And Serenna?¡¯


    ¡®She freaked when she recognised Cade. Said he¡¯s some influencer with a massive following. Started yelling at them to stop before it got recorded. Dragged Caroline towards the door.¡¯


    I heard a shaky inhale.


    ¡®Are they still there?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®No. Yvaine and I were trying to check Cade¡¯s ribs. They slipped out while we were distracted.¡¯ Priya sounded worn out.


    I pressed my thumb against my palm.


    I¡¯d expected a mess.


    I just hadn¡¯t expected them to finish making it before I got there.


    ¡®Is Cade alright? Did he go to the hospital?¡¯


    ¡®Yvaine just took him. They left maybe two minutes ago. He could walk, so probably nothing serious. We called the police. I¡¯m waiting here for them now.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t touch anything they broke. Let the cops see it all exactly how it is.¡¯ I breathed out. ¡®They¡¯re loud but spineless. They won¡¯te back right away. Just stay put and wait for the officers.¡¯


    ¡®Okay.¡¯


    I ended the call and turned to Ashton. ¡®I¡¯m going back. Thisworking circus can carry on without me.¡¯


    He¡¯d been standing close enough to hear every word.


    Before I¡¯d even hung up, he was already typing.


    ¡®I¡¯ve got the driver on standby,¡¯ he said. ¡®If we leave now, we¡¯ll hit the airport in forty minutes. There¡¯s a flight leaving in an hour.¡¯


    ¡®Fine.¡¯


    I texted Daniel to smooth things over with the organisers.


    Ashton and I skipped the hotel, went straight out the lobby and into the car.


    Gino kept the elerator pressed.


    Two hourster, we pulled up in front of the studio.


    Fluorescent light poured through the ss door.


    Inside, Priya was bent over the floor with a dustpan, sweeping broken bits into a metal tray.


    There were chunks of dark brown ceramic near her feet and soil scattered across the tiles.


    I didn¡¯t wait for the car to stoppletely.


    I shoved the door open and jumped out.


    ¡®Priya!¡¯ I stepped inside and grabbed her arm to check her over.


    No cuts. No bruises.


    Her ponytail was a mess but she wasn¡¯t limping.


    ¡®What did the police say?¡¯


    ¡®They finished taking photos and said I could clean up. They sent someone to the Vances¡¯ ce, but it was empty. Phones all off.¡¯


    She¡¯d already swept the biggest chunks into a stic bag, but I could still see where the mess had been¡ªmud streaks on the tile, torn paper near the back door, a dent in the filing cab.


    I pulled out my phone and dialled Caroline.


    Voicemail.


    I dropped the call.


    Typical. They¡¯d realised they¡¯d smacked someone with a public following and now they were probably holed up somewhere trying to figure out how much trouble they¡¯d bought themselves.


    ¡®Stop cleaning. We¡¯re closing for a few days. Go home, get some proper sleep.¡¯


    She nodded without arguing.


    I turned to Ashton. ¡®Let¡¯s go.¡¯


    We headed straight for the hospital.


    When we got there, Cade was in bed, propped up by two white pillows.


    His leg was in a soft brace, but he looked smug as hell.


    Yvaine sat beside him with a peeled orange in herp.


    ¡®I¡¯ve been breakable since birth,¡¯ Cade announced. ¡®Tripped over a crack in the sidewalk when I was four, snapped my arm clean through. This one¡¯s just a small fracture. Doctor said it¡¯ll heal in three weeks.¡¯ He grinned. ¡®Some psychic told my mum I¡¯d never make it to twenty. I¡¯m twenty-one now and still kicking. Guess these little disasters scare the bad luck away.¡¯


    Yvaine looked like she wanted to strangle someone.


    Hershes were wet.


    Cade gave her a pitiful look. ¡®Yvie, it really stings. Come rub it for me?¡¯


    ¡®The doctor said don¡¯t touch it. Tough it out.¡¯


    She popped a segment of orange into his mouth and tapped the tip of his nose.


    Two quick knocksnded on the door.


    Yvaine turned. Her face rxed when she saw me.


    She stood. ¡®You got here fast.¡¯


    I stepped closer to the bed. ¡®He alright?¡¯


    ¡®Just a hairline fracture. Landed square on his corbone. He¡¯s young. He¡¯ll heal in no time.¡¯


    I exhaled through my nose. ¡®Thanks for stepping in. If you two hadn¡¯t shown up, they might¡¯ve trashed the whole ce. Sorry you got dragged into it.¡¯


    Cade waved from the bed. ¡®Come on, it was nothing! Like I¡¯d let them gang up on a girl in broad daylight. I¡¯d have handled all three of them on my own.¡¯


    ¡®Shut up, Cade.¡¯ Yvaine rolled her eyes. ¡®Mira, any luck with the police? Did they find them?¡¯


    ¡®No. All three vanished. Phones off, nowhere to be found.¡¯


    I dialled Caroline.


    Straight to voicemail, again.


    Same for the other two.


    Then, two minutester, my phone lit up.


    I answered. ¡®Finally turned your phone back on? Thought you could beat someone half to death and just disappear?¡¯


    Her voice had changed. No shrieking this time. Quieter. Meeker. ¡®Mirabelle... did you call the cops? We didn¡¯t mean for it to go that far. We¡¯ll pay for the hospital bills, alright? Just drop the charges. Preston got hurt too. He¡¯s sore all over. It was mutual. Not all our fault.¡¯


    ¡®You barged into my studio, smashed property, threatened my staff, sent someone to the ER, then fled the scene. That¡¯s criminal. If any of you had a shred of sense, you¡¯d hand yourselves in before it gets worse.¡¯


    ¡®You wouldn¡¯t even pick up my calls! Preston lost his temper¡ª¡¯


    I cut her off. ¡®Fine. All three of you show up at the hospital. Apologise to Cade, face-to-face. Sort out the medical bills properly. If you do that, maybe I¡¯ll consider settling this privately.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re serious?¡¯


    ¡®Dead serious.¡¯

 Chapter 214 - 215 Farce

    <h4>Chapter 214: Chapter 215 Farce</h4>


    Caroline hesitated, then changed tack. ¡®Could you talk to Ashton? Ask him to go easy on your dad?¡¯


    I didn¡¯t bother hiding the irritation in my voice. ¡®Get to the hospital first. We¡¯ll talk if you show up.¡¯


    ¡®Alright, alright. We¡¯re on our way.¡¯


    The moment I ended the call, I messaged the precinct. Told them to send officers to the hospital immediately.


    Twenty-five minutester, they arrived. Caroline, Preston, and Serenna stumbled in looking washed out and twitchy.


    They pushed the door open.


    The first thing they saw wasn¡¯t me.


    It was four uniformed cops standing near Cade¡¯s bed.


    Caroline froze. Her knees buckled. She grabbed the doorframe for bnce.


    ¡®Mirabelle...¡¯ she said through clenched teeth. ¡®You tricked me.¡¯


    I stepped out from behind the officers. ¡®I said I¡¯d consider it. Never said I agreed. And now I¡¯ve changed my mind.¡¯


    Her mouth worked for a second, then mped shut.


    Preston shoved past her. He pointed at my face, already red and loud. ¡®Ungrateful brat. You lied to us! Took your own father to court! You don¡¯t see us as family at all, do you?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re the ones who never treated me like family. I¡¯ve got nothing more to say. You didn¡¯t hit me. You hit someone else. Whether he forgives you or not¡¯s not up to me.¡¯


    From the bed, Cade raised his voice on cue. ¡®I don¡¯t. I make my money with this face. You lot nearly cracked it open like a melon. Officers, I want charges. Maximum penalty. No mercy.¡¯


    Caroline pleaded, ¡®Officers, this is all a misunderstanding. Nothing serious. We can settle it privately, no need to trouble you.¡¯


    The cop in charge shrugged. ¡®The victim refused to drop theint. You three need toe down to the station. Assault¡¯s one thing. Fleeing the scene¡¯s another. You¡¯ll have to be questioned first.¡¯


    Caroline¡¯s hands twitched at her sides. ¡®We didn¡¯t run. We came here voluntarily. We¡¯re turning ourselves in. That should count for something, right?¡¯


    The officer raised an eyebrow. ¡®You turned yourselves in... at a hospital?¡¯


    The second officer snapped a pair of cuffs onto Preston. The third one started reading rights.


    No one looked at me as they were led out.


    ***


    Once I¡¯d finished dealing with that farce, Ashton made a quick call to Dominic, then made for a different floor.


    I trailed behind him, keeping pace.


    Through the ss panel in the door, I caught sight of Reginald lounging against a stack of white pillows,ughing at something on the TV.


    His bare feet stuck out from under the nket, and he was holding an apple, half-eaten, the skin still wet near the bite marks.


    ¡®What¡¯s wrong with him?¡¯ I asked, tilting my head for a better look. ¡®He doesn¡¯t look remotely unwell.¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s faking,¡¯ Ashton said.


    He pushed open the door.


    Still staring at the screen, Reginald waved a hand. ¡®Gwen, you can leave. The nurse¡¯ll sort everything. No need for you to hang around.¡¯


    No one answered.


    A few secondster, he looked to the door and froze.


    Ashton stood in the middle of the room, watching him.


    The apple slipped out of Reginald¡¯s hand and dropped to the floor.


    It rolled a short distance before stopping against Ashton¡¯s shoe.


    Ashton lowered his gaze to it, then looked up again.


    Reginald¡¯s throat bobbed.


    ¡®You¡ªwhat are you doing¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Dad.¡¯ Ashton smiled wider. ¡®Thought I¡¯d check in. Heard your back¡¯s been giving you trouble. Doesn¡¯t all that sitting hurt?¡¯


    His voice was smooth, rxed, almostzy.


    Reginald, however, flinched like someone had just opened a window in January.


    He blinked fast, grabbed at his lower back, and copsed theatrically onto the pillows. ¡®Christ, my spine¡ªcan¡¯t sit five minutes without agony. Appreciate youing, though. Been swamped with meetings?¡¯


    Ashton took a step forward. Then another. He stopped at the edge of the bed and leaned down, pressed his fingers into Reginald¡¯s lower back.


    ¡®Ow! Bloody hell!¡¯ Reginald howled. ¡®You trying to paralyse me?¡¯


    Ashton pressed down harder on the man¡¯s lower back without blinking.


    Reginald howled again and squirmed like a stuck pig.


    ¡®What are you doing? Have you lost it?¡¯ he shouted.


    ¡®You look far toofortable to be in pain,¡¯ Ashton said coolly. ¡®Thought I¡¯d help you feel it properly.¡¯


    Reginald shot upright, face blotchy and furious. ¡®I¡¯m not faking it! Why would I fake an injury? Who in their right mind checks into a hospital for fun?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re not in your right mind,¡¯ Ashton said.


    Reginald¡¯s face flushed deeper. ¡®I didn¡¯t fake anything! You¡¯re talking rubbish!¡¯


    Ashton ignored that. ¡®Doesn¡¯t matter. Your back¡¯s fine. That little stunt won¡¯t dy your flight. Get packed. You¡¯re leaving for Africa.¡¯


    ¡®No, I¡¯m bloody not!¡¯ Reginald flung himself backwards, dragged the duvet over his head, and went limp. ¡®I can¡¯t even stand, let alone get on a ne!¡¯


    ¡®You think I can¡¯t make you go?¡¯


    Reginald peeked out from under the covers, his tone suddenly soft and coaxing. ¡®Ashton, son, I¡¯m your father. You can¡¯t treat me like this. Let me rest. It¡¯s freezing here. Let me go sometime in June, yeah?¡¯


    ¡®You hate the cold? Good. It¡¯s warm in Africa. You¡¯ll be toasty.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not talking about the bloody weather!¡¯ Reginald snapped. ¡®My joints are shot. Can¡¯t you let me enjoy my retirement like a civilised old man?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re in your prime, not in a coffin. And it¡¯s back pain, not a terminal illness. I¡¯ve just funded three hospitals over there. You¡¯ll be cured before jetg sets in.¡¯


    Reginald let out a furious puff and shoved his face into the pillow. His voice came out muffled and petnt. ¡®I¡¯m not going. End of.¡¯


    Ashton looked back at the door. ¡®Come in.¡¯


    Dominic walked in. ¡®Mr Laurent.¡¯


    He nodded at me.


    The footsteps behind him weren¡¯t subtle. Heavy, synchronised.


    Reginald peeked out like a hunted rodent. Four men followed Dominic inside. Tall, broad-shouldered, all in ck suits that barely held together over their arms.


    Reginald¡¯s voice shook. ¡®What¡ªwhat the hell is this?¡¯

 Chapter 215 - 216 Banished

    <h4>Chapter 215: Chapter 216 Banished</h4>


    ¡®You¡¯re not walking out. So they¡¯ll carry you.¡¯ Ashton said to the men, ¡®He flies out tonight.¡¯


    ¡®Yes, sir.¡¯


    One of them yanked the duvet off.


    Reginald shrieked.


    Another grabbed his arms, two more took his legs, and they hoisted him off the mattress in one smooth motion.


    He kicked like a feral cat. ¡®You¡¯re all insane! Put me down!¡¯


    They didn¡¯t. They marched straight for the door.


    Reginald wriggled free for half a second, dropped to the floor with a loud thud, and scrambled into a sitting position. ¡®Fine! I¡¯ll go! But it¡¯s the middle of the bloody night. There¡¯s no flight now. Just let me sleep, I¡¯ll leave first thing in the morning.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s middle of the afternoon. And you¡¯re leaving tonight,¡¯ Ashton said. ¡®The jet¡¯s ready. Oh, and you¡¯re paying for it. Out of pocket, or out of sry. Your call.¡¯


    Reginald stayed on the floor.


    The guards didn¡¯t touch him again, but they closed in just enough to block every exit.


    He nced around, wild-eyed. His shoulders sank. He wasn¡¯t getting out of this.


    The silence dragged.


    His ears flushed bright red.


    ¡®Ashton, I¡¯m your father,¡¯ he muttered. ¡®You¡¯re humiliating me. Can we talk this through like adults?¡¯


    His voice had thinned out.


    He looked up at Ashton like he expected sympathy tond if he just sounded pathetic enough.


    It didn¡¯t.


    Then the door banged open.


    Gwendolyn burst in, heels cking, coat swinging off one shoulder. ¡®What the hell is this?¡¯ she shouted. ¡®Are you actually nning to abduct someone in a hospital?¡¯


    She shoved through the wall of men, dropped to a crouch, and pulled Reginald up by the elbow.


    She dusted off his sleeve, checked his face like he was ten years old and in trouble at school.


    ¡®Are you serious right now?¡¯ she yelled at Ashton. ¡®That¡¯s your father. Not some stray animal you¡¯re shipping off to die. You want to send him to Africa? You¡¯ve lost your mind.¡¯


    ¡®My decision stands,¡¯ Ashton said simply.


    She looked like she might explode. ¡®He¡¯s nearly sixty. You think he¡¯s going to build infrastructure in the damn heat? He¡¯s not well. You want him dead, is that it?¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s eyes flicked from Gwendolyn to Reginald, then back again. ¡®You¡¯re worried about him?¡¯


    ¡®Duh!¡¯ Gwendolyn rolled her eyes. ¡®Unlike some people, I still have a heart.¡¯


    ¡®If you¡¯re so desperate to help him, you can take his ce.¡¯


    Gwendolyn recoiled. ¡®What the hell are you talking about? Have youpletely lost your mind?¡¯


    ¡®You really want me to spell it out?¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t know what the hell you¡¯re talking about. What did I do now? Or did Mirabelle get in your ear again?¡¯


    She twisted around and red at me.


    I smiled at her.


    ¡®You hired someone to follow me and post the photos online,¡¯ Ashton said. ¡®Then you tried to pin it on Mira. Did you think I¡¯d just forget?¡¯


    Gwendolyn¡¯s expression cracked for half a second.


    She caught herself fast, but it was there.


    ¡®I didn¡¯t do that.¡¯


    Ashton smiled without any warmth. ¡®No? Then who did?¡¯


    ¡®It was¡ª¡¯ She stopped.


    Reginald finally caught up. His whole face flushed, lips pinched tight.


    He pointed a shaking finger at Gwendolyn like he was ready to p the teeth out of her mouth.


    ¡®I told you,¡¯ he growled. ¡®I told you not to send anyone. Are you fucking deaf?¡¯


    Gwendolyn stared at him, wide-eyed, like she couldn¡¯t believe he was turning on her.


    For a second, she looked wounded.


    Then she snapped.


    ¡®You were the one who agreed to it!¡¯ she shouted. ¡®Don¡¯t act like you didn¡¯t know. You said we needed evidence¡ª¡¯


    ¡®I never agreed to such a thing!¡¯


    Gwendolyn¡¯s face twisted with rage.


    ¡®Fine. I did it. I took the photos. So what? What was I supposed to do, wait until she dragged the Laurent name through the mud again? She¡¯s already seeing some other guy behind your back!¡¯


    I stopped chewing the inside of my cheek.


    That one got my attention.


    ¡®Excuse me?¡¯ I stepped forward. ¡®What the hell are you talking about?¡¯


    Gwendolyn stormed up and shoved her phone into my face. ¡®You want proof? Here. You and that little intern you keep giggling with. Look at your hands. Look at his fucking eyes. What do you call that?¡¯


    I stared down.


    It was me and Daniel.


    He was grinning.


    I was holding a sketchbook, leaning over his desk, pointing at something on the page.


    His elbow nearly touched my waist.


    The angle made it look closer than it was.


    I snorted. ¡®That¡¯s my studio, Gwendolyn. The street¡¯s filled with people, and I¡¯ve got another employee there. You think I¡¯d flirt with someone in in view like a bloody moron?¡¯


    She scoffed and stepped forward, the stench of her perfume hitting my throat. ¡®You brought him with you to Sunset City. Don¡¯t act like it was all business. You said it yourself, you¡¯ve got another employee, and I know it¡¯s a girl. Why¡¯d you bring the guy instead of the girl, huh?¡¯


    I narrowed my eyes. ¡®So now you¡¯re using me of cheating with my assistant in another city? Based on what, your magical intuition?¡¯


    Gwendolyn shoved the phone towards Ashton.


    ¡®Ashton, listen to me. She¡¯s using you. She did the same with that Rhys Granger idiot. He was loaded, wasn¡¯t he? That¡¯s her thing. She goes where the money is. She probably thinks you¡¯re too old to keep up. Hence the young side piece. You think she actually wants you?¡¯


    She waved the phone at his face, practically jabbing it at his nose.


    Ashton¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, but I saw the way his fingers curled, the tiny twitch in his temple.


    Then he shoved her hand away.


    The phone dropped with a hard ck, skidding across the floor before the screen split into a spiderweb of cracks.

 Chapter 216 - 217 Gone

    <h4>Chapter 216: Chapter 217 Gone</h4>


    ¡®You don¡¯t get to tell me who she is,¡¯ he said coldly.


    ¡®Ashton! You can¡¯t be serious!¡¯ she shrieked. ¡®We¡¯re your family. She¡¯s no one! You¡¯re letting some gold-digging little brat twist you around her finger! You think she¡¯s sweet, but she¡¯s maniptive. She uses your name like a badge and your money like her own. That designpetition? Please. Everyone knows she won it because of you.¡¯


    ¡®Enough!¡¯ I wished there was something I could throw at her. ¡®When I entered thatpetition, no one knew who the hell I was. Not as Ashton¡¯s wife. If I wanted to rig it, I¡¯d have needed a name to sh, and I didn¡¯t use his. You think I throw Ashton¡¯s name around in public? Fine. Name one time. Where? When? Who heard it?¡¯


    She stared at me, blinking. Her lips twitched like she wanted toe up with something, but all she did was exhale through her nose.


    ¡®You¡¯re quick with rumours, but you choke on facts. Don¡¯t waste your breath trying to make up stories about me. Go find aedy club. Might as well get paid for it.¡¯


    She gaped at me, her mouth pping uselessly, but no sound followed.


    She turned back to Ashton.


    ¡®I¡¯m saying this for your own good,¡¯ she said desperately. ¡®You have no idea what she¡¯s nning. She could be after your money, yourpany, everything!¡¯


    ¡®Are you done?¡¯ Ashton said.


    ¡®No, I¡¯m not done! You better take what I said seriously!¡¯


    He nodded. ¡®Then go on.¡¯


    ¡®That woman, she¡¯s shallow, she only cares about¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Keep going,¡¯ Ashton said. ¡®Every word adds another year to my father¡¯s time in Africa.¡¯


    Gwendolyn froze.


    Reginald choked on air.


    Silence dropped.


    Reginald lunged and pped a hand over her mouth. ¡®Shut it. Just shut the hell up.¡¯


    Gwendolyn iled a bit, then squeaked, ¡®I didn¡¯t mean anything by it. I¡¯ll stop talking.¡¯


    ¡®Let me make it simple,¡¯ Ashton said calmly. ¡®From now on, every time you say something I don¡¯t like, or pull some stunt I didn¡¯t authorise, my father¡¯s ticket home gets dyed another year. Do the maths. Figure out how many idiotic things you can squeeze in before he drops dead over there.¡¯


    ¡®Ashton¡ª¡¯ Gwendolyn started, panic sharp in her voice.


    Reginald pped his hand over her mouth again. ¡®We won¡¯t say another word. About anything. Especially not Mirabelle. Never again. She¡¯s family. We love her. Like a daughter.¡¯


    He turned to me with a forced smile.


    ¡®Truly. Like our own.¡¯


    When Ashton¡¯s shoulders eased just slightly, Reginald let out a breath and rubbed his palms together.


    ¡®Ashton, listen...¡¯ he started, voice syrupy. ¡®You¡¯vee all this way to see me. Look at all these outsiders cluttering the ce. Don¡¯t you think it¡¯s better if we clear the room and just have a proper father-son chat?¡¯


    ¡®About Africa...¡¯ Ashton dragged it out.


    I watched Reginald¡¯s face twitch with hope like an idiot unwrapping a present he¡¯d already peeked at.


    ¡®You¡¯re still going.¡¯


    Reginald stiffened. The colour drained from his cheeks.


    He started coughing, hand to his chest like he¡¯d been punched.


    ¡®Can¡¯t we... negotiate?¡¯ he wheezed.


    ¡®You can walk out or be wheeled out. Those are the only options.¡¯


    Heavy, dragging steps thudded down the hall.


    A short whileter, Edouard Laurent appeared in the doorway, hunched, cane digging into the floor.


    A nurse hovered beside him, one arm hooked under his elbow.


    He looked half-copsed already, sweat beading under his grey hair, lips pale, breathing ragged.


    Even his hospital gown hung lopsided on his frame, like it couldn¡¯t be bothered to cling to someone so close to expiry.


    ¡®Ashton,¡¯ Edouard rasped, ¡®this is disgraceful. He¡¯s your father. You¡¯re behaving like a goddamn thug¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Grandpa, you¡¯re not well. You should stop talking. And you¡¯re old. Stay out of this.¡¯


    The old man stiffened.


    His knuckles tightened around the cane.


    ¡®I¡¯m tired,¡¯ he muttered, and turned around before even crossing the threshold.


    ¡®Dad!¡¯ Reginald shouted after him.


    Edouard didn¡¯t look back.


    Ashton looked down at Reginald. ¡®Have you decided?¡¯


    Reginald didn¡¯t lift his head. His voice came out hoarse. ¡®I¡¯ll go.¡¯


    ¡®Good.¡¯


    Ashton flicked a look at Dominic, who snapped to attention and motioned to the four men by the door.


    They closed in on Reginald without a word.


    One of them took his suitcase.


    Another opened the door.


    Reginald didn¡¯t resist. He just let them walk him out like a convict on his final stroll.


    The room emptied in seconds.


    Gwendolyn dropped onto the mattress, spine bent, face pale.


    She looked like a wind-up toy that had finally stopped ticking.


    Ashton didn¡¯t let her catch her breath.


    ¡®I¡¯ve noticed you¡¯ve had a lot of free timetely. You¡¯ll be staying home from now on. No shopping. No luncheons. Your cards are frozen.¡¯


    Gwendolyn stared at him, her mouth slightly open.


    ¡®The house allowance? Gone. Since Grandfather¡¯s in hospital and my father¡¯s going to be deep in the jungle, the staff¡¯s being cut. If you want to keep your driver, your chef, your cleaner, pay them yourself. Oh, and your year-end dividends from LGH? Cancelled.¡¯


    Her head snapped up. ¡®What?¡¯


    He didn¡¯t repeat it.


    Her eyes rolled back.


    She tipped sideways and copsed onto the mattress, limbs stiff, face ck.


    Ashton and I looked at each other.


    I asked, ¡®Did she just pass out?¡¯


    ¡®Looks like it.¡¯


    I turned and bolted for the hallway, found a nurse halfway down and waved her over.


    She brought a doctor and two more nurses.


    All four rushed in, crowding around the bed.


    One held Gwendolyn¡¯s wrists.


    Another pressed hard under her nose with a knuckle.


    The third adjusted the monitor.


    Gwendolyn¡¯s eyes cracked open about twenty secondster.


    She blinked, caught sight of Ashton standing in the middle of the room, and made a strangled sound.


    Her head flopped sideways.


    Out cold again.

 Chapter 217 - 218 Connections

    <h4>Chapter 217: Chapter 218 Connections</h4>


    I stared at her, then turned to the doctor. ¡®Is she dying or just dramatic?¡¯


    He didn¡¯t look up from the chart. ¡®Her vitals are fine. Fainting from stress. Keep her hydrated and calm, she¡¯ll be alright in a few days.¡¯


    Ashton turned towards the door. ¡®Perfect. This room¡¯s just been vacated. Let her recover here.¡¯


    He took a call in the hallway.


    ¡®You back in Skyline?¡¯ Cassian asked.


    ¡®Just got in. What¡¯s going on?¡¯ Ashton put the call on speakerphone.


    ¡®Nothing urgent. Just that Rowan Hale¡¯s still being a pain in the arse. Thank fuck I didn¡¯t sign her.¡¯


    ¡®What did she do now?¡¯


    I leaned in closer.


    ¡®She¡¯s using your name to fish for deals. Spun it like you two had something going on. Picked up a couple of brand meetings that way, wriggled onto two prime-time shows. Some PR idiots don¡¯t believe you actually married Mirabelle, and she¡¯s leaning into it. Dodges questions, drops hints, lets them connect the dots. Now I¡¯ve got sponsorsing to me asking what your status with her is. She put out a clean-cut statement, but behind the scenes she¡¯s ying every angle she can.¡¯


    Ashton and I exchanged a nce.


    ¡®Do you know which projects she¡¯s chasing?¡¯ he asked.


    ¡®Roughly. I can get the full list. Either way, don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll make sure nobody signs her.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t.¡¯ Ashton paused. ¡®If you¡¯ve got ess, tell them to keep negotiating. The deeper, the better.¡¯


    There was a second of silence. Then Cassian said, ¡®Are you brain-damaged? You want her out there ying your fake girlfriend in boardrooms? You know how fast that¡¯ll spread?¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s just negotiations. No one¡¯s signing anything.¡¯


    Cassian went quiet. Then, after a pause: ¡®Oh, oh I see. Got it.¡¯


    Ashton ended the call and turned to me.


    I gave him a thumbs-up.


    ¡®I don¡¯t n to touch her yet,¡¯ he exined. ¡®Not until I find out what the hell she¡¯s doing around Gwendolyn.¡¯


    ¡®Got it.¡¯


    Our driver was already waiting by the entrance.


    Once we were in the back seat, I figured I¡¯d better get it out of the way before Gwendolyn¡¯s Photoshop festival started doingps in his head.


    ¡®Those pictures were fake,¡¯ I said. ¡®Daniel works at my studio. He¡¯s not my type. We¡¯re just friendly.¡¯


    Ashton nodded.


    ¡®And I didn¡¯t marry you for your money.¡¯


    He reached over and pulled me into his chest. ¡®I know.¡¯


    The car rolled on, smooth and steady.


    I leaned into him, head tucked under his chin, and found the angle that didn¡¯t crush my ear.


    Iughed a little. ¡®We make the perfect bad-guy couple. I sent my mum and cousins to jail, and you shipped off your dad to Africa.¡¯


    He dropped his mouth to the side of mine and kissed the corner.


    ¡®Yeah. The perfect couple,¡¯ he murmured.


    The back seat was dark, but his eyes stayed on me.


    I could feel them even when I couldn¡¯t see them.


    We hadn¡¯t stopped moving since wended from Sunset.


    It¡¯d been nonstop crisis management, one fire after another.


    But right there, crammed into the car with his arm around me, everything just... paused.


    Then he tilted my face up and kissed me again. Didn¡¯t stop this time.


    By the time we pulled up at the house, my knees were useless.


    He carried me all the way upstairs.


    I was dropped on the bed without warning.


    Before I could suck in a full breath, he was on me again, heavy and close.


    His mouth moved fast, not giving me space to think.


    I kept meaning to push him off, but my hands didn¡¯t get the message.


    I kept pulling him closer instead.


    The mattress dipped behind my back.


    The sheets smelled like clean cotton and his aftershave.


    Everything was familiar¡ªthis room, this man, the rough sound of his breathing right against my jaw.


    My head was spinning, but I didn¡¯t want him to stop.


    He was tugging at the buttons on my coat, teeth grazing the edge of my lip.


    I felt the fabric shift as he pulled it open, his fingers slipping inside and peeling it off my shoulders.


    Underneath, I had on the cream cardigan I always forgot was that low-cut until it was toote.


    His hand slid down the front, tracing the buttons.


    He started working them open, one at a time.


    The second one stuck.


    I heard him exhale, low and annoyed, before he straightened up on his knees.


    I opened my eyes.


    He was in front of me, shirtless in seconds.


    He stripped without hesitation. Coat, jumper, the lot, were tossed in a heap beside the bed.


    His skin was flushed, muscles tense, stomach tight.


    I stared like an idiot.


    Then he caught my hand and brought it to his belt.


    The metal sp was ice-cold.


    I flinched, pulled back.


    He paused.


    Then leaned down and kissed me again, slower this time, his mouth dragging across mine inzy strokes.


    His voice dropped into that tone he used when he wanted something and already knew the answer. ¡®You¡¯re not backing out tonight.¡¯


    He dragged his thumb over one of the cardigan buttons, pressing in lightly, rolling it under his finger like it was the only thing between us.


    ¡®Can I?¡¯ he asked.


    I barely heard myself mumble. ¡®Mm.¡¯


    That was all he needed.


    The button came off in his hand with a snap.


    Then he grabbed my hand again and curled my fingers around something square and small.


    I blinked wide and froze.


    We didn¡¯t have this at home.


    Ashton hadn¡¯t left my side long enough to grab anything.


    Where the hell had he pulled it from?


    Had he swiped a box of condoms off the hotel nightstand?


    My palm heated up around the object.


    His lips brushed my ear. ¡®Rip it open.¡¯


    The packet crinkled between my fingers.


    I peeled back the edge with trembling nails.


    The coldtex slipped out, smooth and tight in my hand.

 Chapter 218 - 219 Consummation

    <h4>Chapter 218: Chapter 219 Consummation</h4>


    I reached for him, rolled the condom down over his length.


    Ashton groaned low in his throat, his body tensing above mine, hips twitching at the contact.


    His hands braced on either side of my head, knuckles whitening slightly.


    He murmured my name, voice rough with pleasure.


    I swallowed hard, eyes flicking up to his face.


    There was no alcohol clouding my senses this time, no hazy veil to soften the edges.


    Every sensation was vivid, raw.


    The memory of that first night in the hotel came rushing back. Not just the physicality, but the vulnerability, the reckless thrill of giving myself to someone who made me feel both fearless and fragile all at once.


    That night, I¡¯d been drunk.


    Now, I was wide awake, and drowning in feeling.


    Watching me closely, Ashton pressed inside slowly, inch by torturous inch, letting me stretch and adjust, his jaw clenched tight as he fought for control.


    I gasped softly, arching into him, my fingers curling into his shoulders.


    My body softened around him, opening, weing.


    He didn¡¯t move at first, just held himself there, buried deep, forehead resting against mine.


    ¡®You good?¡¯ he asked, voice hoarse.


    I nodded, blinking back tears I hadn¡¯t realised had formed. ¡®Yes. Don¡¯t stop.¡¯


    He kissed me then, slow and sweet.


    Each thrust was careful, coaxing my nerves alight until warmth pooled low in my belly.


    My body responded instinctively, hips rising to meet his rhythm, shyness melting under the weight of desire.


    When I moaned into his mouth, Ashton exhaled sharply through his nose, his pace beginning to quicken.


    His control began to slip.


    I wrapped my legs around his waist, drawing him deeper, nails tracing lines down his back.


    I met each of his thrusts with a roll of my hips, my earlier hesitation entirely forgotten.


    He shifted, angling deeper, and I cried out, clutching at him tighter.


    The bed groaned beneath our movement, the air thick with sweat and want.


    Our bodies moved together like we¡¯d always known how, like we¡¯d never been apart.


    When the climax hit, it crashed over us in waves, simultaneous, shattering.


    Ashton buried his face in my neck, growling my name as he spilled into me, his muscles taut and trembling.


    I clung to him, heart racing, breath ragged.


    I thought it was over, but then his lips found mine again, softer this time, and his voice rumbled against my skin.


    ¡®One more time.¡¯


    And I let him take me again. Harder this time. Faster.


    Again and again until I couldn¡¯t tell where I ended and he began.


    The pressure behind my eyes faded, colours bleeding into one another at the edges of my vision.


    I must have cked out for a moment, because the next thing I registered was Ashton¡¯s voice, low and coaxing, calling me back.


    ¡®One more time.¡¯


    I woke up tangled in his arms, face warm and damp, eyelids heavy.


    Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows across his chest.


    He was still half-curled around me, breathing steady, asleep.


    I didn¡¯t move. I justy there, listening to the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my cheek.


    Everything felt... right.


    Until his hands started roaming.


    From the corner of my mouth, down my neck, along my corbone, tracing the curve of my waist.


    His palm stayed pressed against my skin, reluctant to pull away.


    I pulled back to look at his face.


    His eyes were still closed.


    ¡®You awake?¡¯


    ¡®No,¡¯ he said.


    ¡®Liar. What time is it?¡¯


    ¡®Two in the afternoon.¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯ I sat up, pped his hand away. ¡®Ow!¡¯


    ¡®Anything hurting?¡¯


    ¡®Just sore. And keep your hands to yourself.¡¯ My skin smelled clean. ¡®Did you give me a bath?¡¯


    He nodded, kissed my cheek. ¡®Let¡¯s have another. This time with you awake.¡¯


    ¡®Nope.¡¯ I tried to shuffle out of bed but my legs wouldn¡¯t cooperate.


    His handsnded on my waist again. ¡®Sore? I¡¯ll give it a rub.¡¯


    It helped a little. The way his hands stroked, kneaded, and rolled felt like he¡¯d studied massage somewhere.


    The pressure soothed some of the tension.


    But then his hands strayed, fingers teasing beyondfort.


    I caught his wrist before it wandered any further. ¡®I¡¯m starving. Can we eat?¡¯


    ¡®Sure.¡¯ Ashton let go, still grinning.


    I shot him a look, shoved the sheets down, and realised I was naked.


    I yanked the nket back over my chest. ¡®Can you grab me a nightdress or something?¡¯


    He chuckled under his breath. ¡®Yeah.¡¯


    He threw the covers off and stood.


    I saw everything. Broad shoulders. Muscled thighs.


    He strolled to the wardrobe like he wasn¡¯tpletely naked, slid the door open, picked through the hangers, then turned and came back without covering a single inch of himself.


    I tried not to stare.


    ¡®Here.¡¯ He stopped at the edge of the bed, holding up one of my silk slips. Arm stretched full length,pletely out of reach.


    I threw off the duvet and stood, snatched the nightdress out of his hand, and tugged it on without bothering to turn away.


    This time, he stared.


    He took a step forward.


    I yanked the hem down, jumped off the bed, and announced, ¡®I¡¯m getting food.¡¯


    My footnded on a crumpled blouse.


    My knee wobbled.


    I nearly went face-first into the nightstand.


    Ashton reached out fast.


    I dodged faster. ¡®I¡¯ve got it. Don¡¯t touch me.¡¯


    One more brush of skin and I knew I¡¯d be back in that bed with him.


    ¡®I¡¯ll have someone bring food up,¡¯ he said. ¡®Just eat in here.¡¯


    ¡®Nope. I¡¯m eating downstairs.¡¯


    If food showed up in my room, the entire damn household would know I couldn¡¯t walk straight.


    I wasn¡¯t giving anyone that satisfaction.


    I didn¡¯t care if I had to limp across the marble floor or use my hands.

 Chapter 219 - 220 Make up for Lost Time

    <h4>Chapter 219: Chapter 220 Make up for Lost Time</h4>


    The soreness wasn¡¯t that bad anyway, just a slow throb deep in my thighs. Manageable.


    After I came out of the bathroom, Ashton was dressed.


    Downstairs, I sat at the far end of the dining table, keeping my back straight and movements measured.


    Across from me, Ashton leaned on one elbow, watching me.


    ¡®You not eating?¡¯ I asked without looking up. ¡®Or are you nning to just stare at me the whole time?¡¯


    ¡®Not hungry.¡¯ He added, ¡®Slow down. No one¡¯s taking it from you.¡¯


    I abandoned the spoon, lifted the soup bowl, drank half, then put it down and pressed a hand to my stomach. ¡®I¡¯m full.¡¯


    ¡®You sure?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah.¡¯


    ¡®So you¡¯ve got your strength back, then?¡¯


    ¡®Of course¡ª¡¯


    The words caught in my throat. I almost bit my tongue.


    I looked up.


    He smiled. ¡®Good. Time to pick up where we left offst night.¡¯


    ¡®I wasn¡¯t aware it was a marathon.¡¯ I shot to my feet. ¡®I¡¯m going to the studio.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s your day off. And it¡¯s nearly three.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t care. I¡¯m going anyway.¡¯


    I spun around and bolted for the door.


    I managed to make it to the shoe cab before he caught up with me.


    He grabbed me around the waist and slung me over his shoulder like a gym bag.


    ¡®Forget the studio,¡¯ he said, already climbing the stairs. ¡®The bedroom¡¯s closer.¡¯


    I had dinner in bed that night.


    And breakfast in bed in the morning.


    And lunch.


    And...


    He acted like he was trying to make up for lost time in one long, uninterrupted session.


    Every time I opened my eyes, he was already awake, staring at me like I was the main course.


    I gave up on fighting by the second night.


    I hadn¡¯t left the room except to sit in the tub.


    And he¡¯d joined me there, too.


    On the fourth morning, salvation arrived.


    Dominic Everett called.


    Ashton looked murderous the second he answered.


    I caught the words ¡®breach¡¯ and ¡®clean it up¡¯ before he hung up.


    ¡®Something at thepany,¡¯ he said, grabbing his keys. ¡®I¡¯ll be backte. Wait for me.¡¯


    ¡®Of course. Be safe.¡¯


    I smiled like a perfect wife and watched him go.


    The second the door shut, I pulled out my phone and transferred a fat bonus to Dominic.


    After a minute, my phone buzzed.


    Dominic: [What¡¯s this for?]


    Me: [For your heroic dedication to duty. Keep up the good work. And definitely keep Ashton busy. Constant updates. Full reports. Don¡¯t hold back.]


    Another pause. Then:


    Dominic: [Just doing my job. Thank you, Mrs Laurent.]


    I sent him a grinning sticker with flushed cheeks and jazz hands.


    My mood had never been better.


    By early afternoon, I¡¯d finally managed to get real sleep.


    When I woke up, my limbs felt normal again, my spine had stopped aching, and my dder wasn¡¯t under siege.


    I got dressed in under three minutes and slipped out of the house before Ashton could change his mind abouting back.


    First stop: the studio.


    Then straight to Yvaine.


    She was my best bet.


    If I could get her on board, she¡¯d call Ashton, invent some ridiculous emergency, and demand I stay with her for a few nights.


    ***


    Daniel sat beside me near the front window, pretending to be interested in the sketches on my tablet.


    He¡¯d just brought back my luggage from Sunset City.


    He¡¯d packed it for me after I left in a hurry with Ashton.


    I hadn¡¯t asked him to do it, exactly.


    He¡¯d offered. Probably thought it earned him points.


    His gaze kept drifting over.


    I ignored it.


    Then his phone pinged.


    He opened the message, nced at it, and went still.


    ¡®What¡¯s wrong?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®Nothing. I just need to use the loo.¡¯ He got up and walked towards the back.


    He came back out a few minutester.


    ¡®Mirabelle, can I talk to you for a minute?¡¯ he asked.


    I leaned back in my seat and closed my tablet. ¡®Go ahead.¡¯


    He hesitated before sitting down, then looked at me like he was about to confess something painful.


    ¡®What happened to you?¡¯ I noticed his eyes were red-rimmed, and his skin was damp like he¡¯d just sshed his face. ¡®Were you crying?¡¯


    ¡®No. I...¡¯ He stared at the floor. ¡®There¡¯s something I¡¯ve been hiding from you.¡¯


    ¡®Then spit it out.¡¯


    ¡®The name I gave you, Daniel Williams...¡¯


    ¡®Wasn¡¯t your real name?¡¯ I guessed.


    ¡®It is. It¡¯s just... Williams is my mother¡¯s surname.¡¯


    ¡®Okay.¡¯ I waited for him to go on.


    ¡®I don¡¯t use my dad¡¯s surname. He¡¯s Granger. Clive Granger. I¡¯m his son.¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m serious,¡¯ he said quickly. ¡®I know it sounds crazy, but I¡¯m not lying. I really am his kid.¡¯


    My brain tried to catch up.


    I remembered the rumours.


    Clive had a mistress once.


    Louisa had threatened divorce, but then, nothing.


    I thought the affair had ended years ago.


    Apparently not.


    I looked at Daniel again. Pale skin, downturned mouth, messy curls.


    Something clicked.


    The shape of his face, his eyes.


    I¡¯d seen it before.


    Rhys.


    The resemnce was obvious now.


    How the hell hadn¡¯t I noticed it sooner?


    I exhaled slowly, trying to stay level.


    ¡®You knew I was engaged to Rhys,¡¯ I said. ¡®You still took a job here. Why?¡¯


    ¡®I didn¡¯t mean anything by it,¡¯ he said quickly, then backtracked. ¡®Okay, I did at first. But that¡¯s over now. I swear.¡¯


    ¡®So what exactly was your n at the start?¡¯ I asked.


    Daniel scratched his wrist, then dropped his hand into hisp.


    ¡®I wanted to see what kind of woman Rhys was into. I hated him. I hated all of them. I didn¡¯t even know you, but I figured if you were with him, you had to be just like the rest.¡¯


    ¡®And now?¡¯


    ¡®Now it¡¯s different. You¡¯ve been decent to me. Treated me like a human being. You¡¯re nothing like that family.¡¯


    I stared at him.


    ¡®You do realise the woman Rhys was into was Catherine, right?¡¯

 Chapter 220 - 221 Ashton’s POV: Benefactor

    <h4>Chapter 220: Chapter 221 Ashton¡¯s POV: Benefactor</h4>


    Laurent Global Holdings. Top floor. Private office.


    The blinds were drawn, the lights dimmed low.


    Ashton sat behind his desk, hands still, face unreadable.


    Across from him, Dominic finished his report in a low, careful voice.


    When Ashton didn¡¯t interrupt, didn¡¯t frown, Dominic finally exhaled.


    ¡®These need your signature,¡¯ he said, sliding a folder forward.


    He listed each document while Ashton flipped through, reviewing, annotating, signing with quick strokes.


    ¡®Anything else?¡¯


    His voice was t. The sort of tone that left no room for unnecessary replies.


    He hadn¡¯t wanted to be there.


    Dominic¡¯s call had pulled him out of bed, away from Mirabelle, away from the heat and scent of her skin, the weight of her tucked under his arm, silent and half-asleep.


    He could still smell her shampoo on his clothes.


    Ashton flexed his fingers once, then stilled them on the desk.


    It was pointless to be annoyed now.


    If he was already here, he might as well get something done.


    Dominic hesitated.


    ¡®There¡¯s one more thing. We traced the connection between Rowan Hale and Gwendolyn Laurent. She was Rowan¡¯s benefactor.¡¯


    ¡®Exin.¡¯


    ¡®Gwendolyn funded Rowan¡¯s schooling through a charity, starting in secondary all the way through university. There¡¯s no record of personal contact between them, though, and the financial support ended after graduation. No signs they¡¯ve kept in touch.¡¯


    ¡®If they¡¯re scheming together, there won¡¯t be a paper trail,¡¯ Ashton said. ¡®Push her like I told you. If she reacts, we¡¯ll know.¡¯


    Dominic nodded. ¡®Understood.¡¯


    Ashtonid out the details.


    Dominic left without asking questions.


    Ashton stayed at his desk, tried to read the email on his screen.


    His eyes skimmed over the text without absorbing a single line.


    Mirabelle¡¯s face kept pushing its way to the front of his mind¡ªher mouth twitching when she pretended not tough, her arms wrapped tight around the quilt, her smile too quick, her eyes not meeting his when he left.


    It had taken everything he had to walk out.


    By noon, the urge to return was wing at the inside of his chest.


    He forced himself to sit, watch the clock, burn through more useless meetings.


    At half past two, he gave in and sent a message: [Wake up. Eat something.]


    No reply.


    He checked the thread. Five unread messages since morning. All one-sided.


    Was she still sleeping or just ignoring him on purpose?


    He didn¡¯t call.


    If she was asleep, the sound would wake her.


    If she wasn¡¯t, she¡¯d let it ring.


    At four, he cracked.


    He rang Geoffrey.


    ¡®She¡¯s not home,¡¯ Geoffrey said. ¡®She left for the studio an hour ago.¡¯


    Ashton ended the call and nced out the window.


    Snow drifted past the ss in slow, twisting lines.


    The sky was grey.


    Wind pushed the kes in jerking gusts across the skyline.


    She¡¯d gone out in that.


    He stood, grabbed his coat.


    Minutester, he was seated in the car, heading for Mirabelle¡¯s studio.


    His phone lit up.


    ¡®Mr Laurent,¡¯ Dominic said without preamble. ¡®You asked me to look into Daniel Williams. He¡¯s Clive Granger¡¯s illegitimate son. Rhys Granger¡¯s younger half-brother.¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s fingers locked around the armrest. ¡®You¡¯re sure?¡¯


    ¡®Positive. He studied in Wessexia. Clive Granger was listed as his father. It¡¯s on the records. I¡¯ve got additional documentation, but¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Send it. All of it.¡¯ Ashton ended the call.


    ¡®Faster,¡¯ he told Gino.


    The street narrowed ahead, snow clinging to the gutters, wind pushing it sideways against the ss.


    The studio was two blocks away.


    He¡¯d known something was off the moment Gwendolyn shoved that photo in his face.


    Mirabelle and Daniel. The angle was too neat, too framed.


    Someone had posed for that camera.


    It couldn¡¯t be Mirabelle, so...


    At the time, Ashton had dismissed it.


    The man worked at the studio.


    From what Mirabelle told him, Daniel was a good worker. Friendly, kept his head down, polite to a fault.


    Mirabelle treated him like a friend.


    Yvaine did too.


    Still, Ashton had ordered the background check, just in case.


    If nothing came of it, the file would be deleted.


    Now he knew.


    Daniel Williams was Rhys Granger¡¯s blood.


    Which meant he had no business standing within ten feet of Mirabelle.


    Snow clumped along the windscreen as the wipers scraped back and forth in slow, struggling sweeps.


    Gino eased off the elerator.


    ¡®Road¡¯s slick, sir. We¡¯ll get there, but not fast,¡¯ he said, eyes on the red tail-lights ahead.


    Ashton stared at his phone, thumb tapping the screen again.


    Still no answer.


    He let out a short breath through his nose and hit redial.


    Straight to voicemail.


    The car in front of them hadn¡¯t moved in minutes.


    A line of hazard lights blinked ahead, casting orange pulses across the snow-covered street.


    Two vehicles sat crooked in the middle of the intersection, a dented front bumper hanging low.


    A uniformed officer paced along the roadside, torchlight flickering across licence tes.


    ¡®They¡¯ve cordoned off the junction,¡¯ Gino muttered. ¡®Might take another fifteen, twenty¡ª¡¯


    Ashton was already unbuckling.


    He shoved the door open, cold air pping into the cabin.


    ¡®I¡¯ll walk from here. It¡¯s two blocks.¡¯


    Gino leaned over the centre console. ¡®You sure? The snow¡¯sing down hard.¡¯


    Ashton shut the door, pulled his coat cor up, and turned into the wind.

 Chapter 221 - 222 Snake in the Grass

    <h4>Chapter 221: Chapter 222 Snake in the Grass</h4>


    ¡®You do realise the woman Rhys was into was Catherine, right?¡¯ I said, staring at Daniel. ¡®Why did youe here?¡¯


    His mouth pulled tight.


    ¡®I didn¡¯t know that at first. I just knew he had a fianc¨¦e. I got back to Skyline and found out he¡¯d married someone else. But I followed him and Catherine for a while. They fought all the time. I don¡¯t think he gives a damn about her. I think he¡¯s still into you.¡¯


    I shook my head. ¡®You¡¯re reading into things. He¡¯s not.¡¯


    ¡®We¡¯re rted. I know how he thinks. He regrets it. He wishes he hadn¡¯t married her.¡¯


    I couldn¡¯t be bothered to argue. ¡®That¡¯s between them. Let¡¯s talk about you. I don¡¯t buy that you came here just to see what I looked like. What else were you after?¡¯


    He stared at the floor. ¡®Nothing. I had nowhere to go. No money. I didn¡¯t know anyone here. I saw the job listing and took a shot.¡¯


    I folded my arms. ¡®You¡¯re Clive Granger¡¯s son. Don¡¯t tell me you were broke.¡¯


    His whole expression changed.


    Something mean shed across his face, then vanished.


    His eyes welled up.


    ¡®Clive wanted us gone. After he shipped us overseas, he stopped answering calls. He paid my tuition and nothing else. My mum and I moved ts five times in two years. I worked three jobs just to cover groceries. Every designerbel I wear is fake. I couldn¡¯t even afford a bloody phone when mine broke.¡¯


    He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. ¡®Clive didn¡¯t want me back. That¡¯s why I came. Just to piss him off.¡¯


    He looked up. ¡®Mirabelle... I know I say I hate Rhys, but I must have the same type as him, because I think I like you too. And I don¡¯t want to lie about it.¡¯


    He lunged forward and clung to my arm, full-body sobbing.


    I shoved him back, but he just came at me again.


    ¡®I mean it. You looked out for me. You treated me like I mattered. No one¡¯s ever done that. I barely got through thest few years. This is the first time I¡¯ve felt¡ª¡¯


    He cut himself off, sniffling hard.


    ¡®I like you. Properly. And I¡¯m not trying to use you or mess anything up.¡¯


    He wouldn¡¯t let go.


    His nails pressed into my sleeve.


    My elbow ached where he was squeezing it.


    ¡®Let go of me.¡¯


    ¡®I know you¡¯re married. I know I shouldn¡¯t feel like this. But don¡¯t send me away, please. I don¡¯t have anywhere else. I won¡¯t say anything again. I¡¯ll act normal. Just don¡¯t kick me out.¡¯


    He hugged my arm tighter.


    I tried to yank free, but he locked both hands around it.


    The front door banged open.


    We both turned.


    Ashton stood there, coat half-open, eyes fixed on the scene in front of him.


    He looked ready to murder someone.


    I tried to stand, but Daniel had me pinned.


    My forearm throbbed where his grip tightened.


    ¡®What are you doing here?¡¯ I asked.


    Ashton strode in front of us, grabbed Daniel¡¯s wrist, yanked hard.


    ¡®Ow!¡¯


    Daniel stared up at him, tear-streaked and red-faced.


    Ashton caught a fistful of Daniel¡¯s hair, hauled him to his feet, then flung him backwards with a shove.


    Daniel stumbled and crashed into the edge of the drafting table.


    The thud rattled a jar of pens off the side.


    ¡®Ow¡ªfuck!¡¯ he yelled. ¡®My back!¡¯


    He flopped down against the table like his spine had snapped clean in half.


    He hunched over and whined, ¡®Mirabelle, I think my spine¡¯s broken... Can you help me up?¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t.¡¯ Ashton¡¯s voice snapped across the room before I could twitch a finger.


    They both stared at me.


    ¡®I wasn¡¯t going to,¡¯ I said, rising to stand next to Ashton, arms folded.


    Daniel was still slumped by the edge, wheezing for attention.


    From this angle, I had a clear view of the red patch spreading through his shirt where it had hit the table.


    Nothing looked broken.


    His nose had stopped running.


    His eyes were dry now, but puffed up like a toddler who¡¯d just lost a toy.


    I didn¡¯t move. ¡®You didn¡¯t hit that hard. You barely bumped it. And my arm still aches from how tight you grabbed it, so no, I¡¯m not helping you.¡¯


    Daniel shut up.


    He pushed himself up slowly, one hand mped around his lower back, the other braced on the table edge.


    He made a show of exhaling through clenched teeth.


    Once upright, he turned to Ashton. ¡®You¡¯ve got a heavy hand, man. I think you misunderstood¡ªme and Mira, we were just talking. I got a bit worked up¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Didn¡¯t misunderstand,¡¯ Ashton cut in. ¡®I just wanted to hit you.¡¯


    Daniel¡¯s mouth hung open. Noeback.


    Ashton turned to me. ¡®Did you know he¡¯s Rhys Granger¡¯s brother?¡¯


    His voice cracked slightly on the name.


    He¡¯d clearly tried to keep it even, but failed.


    He¡¯d shown up out of nowhere, looking ready to throw someone through a window, and now I knew why.


    ¡®I know,¡¯ I said.


    His head jerked slightly. ¡®You know?¡¯


    His jaw clenched.


    He reached up and yanked open the top button of his shirt like it was suffocating him. ¡®You know he¡¯s Rhys Granger¡¯s bastard brother and you still gave him a job? Let him cry on you like some pathetic¡ª¡¯


    ¡®I just found out,¡¯ I cut in. ¡®He told me himself. And I didn¡¯t let him do anything. The idiot grabbed me so hard I couldn¡¯t shake him off. My arm still hurts.¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s mouth pulled tight, but the line between his brows eased a little. ¡®When did he tell you?¡¯


    ¡®A minute ago. Right before you burst in.¡¯


    His eyes narrowed, scanning my face like he was trying to work out if I was holding something back.


    Then his gaze flicked to Daniel, who hadn¡¯t moved.


    ¡®He¡¯s not here to work,¡¯ Ashton said tly. ¡®He¡¯s here to dig. He¡¯s got an angle, and he¡¯s not staying.¡¯

 Chapter 222 - 223 Liar

    <h4>Chapter 222: Chapter 223 Liar</h4>


    ¡®That¡¯s not true!¡¯ Daniel piped up. ¡®I already exined everything to Mira. I¡¯m not here because of Rhys. I want to work. That¡¯s all. You think just because I¡¯ve got the Granger name I¡¯m trying to screw someone over? You should know better. I¡¯m the illegitimate one. Clive won¡¯t even speak to me. They treat me like a stain. I¡¯ve got nothing to gain from them. I¡¯m not on their side. I never was.¡¯


    He looked at me like I was supposed to back him up.


    When I said nothing, he carried on. ¡®I¡¯m just trying to earn a wage. I don¡¯t have a trust fund or a penthouse. If I don¡¯t work, I don¡¯t eat. What¡¯s so suspicious about wanting a damn job?¡¯


    He sniffled.


    Ashton let out a short, amused breath.


    He watched Daniel for a few seconds, then said, deadpan: ¡®You¡¯re lying.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not. Why would I lie? I¡¯ve been here for more than a month. If I wanted something from Mira, I¡¯d have taken it already. I¡¯ve done nothing wrong. You¡¯re making me out to be some kind of maniptive creep just because I¡¯m broke?¡¯


    He turned it back on Ashton, voice pitching up.


    ¡®using me of some twisted agenda without proof? That¡¯s just low.¡¯


    ¡®Then exin the staged photos,¡¯ Ashton said.


    Daniel widened his eyes. ¡®What photos? I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about.¡¯


    I leaned in and asked Ashton quietly, ¡®You think he set those up?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah,¡¯ Ashton muttered, jaw tight. ¡®Can¡¯t prove it. Yet.¡¯


    He refocused on Daniel. ¡®Forget the photos for now. Tell me why you pretended to be broke.¡¯


    ¡®I didn¡¯t pretend. I am broke. If I had money, why the hell would I be scrounging for hourly shifts?¡¯


    Ashton looked Daniel up and down, slow and deliberate.


    ¡®The jacket alone costs more than most people¡¯s rent. Those trainers are limited release and sold out in two minutes. You want me to believe you¡¯re living off instant noodles?¡¯


    ¡®They¡¯re all replicas. Mass-produced knockoffs. Not worth anything.¡¯


    Ashton let out a quiet snort. His tone ttened. ¡®And I¡¯m supposed to take your word for it? You think I can¡¯t tell the difference?¡¯


    Daniel turned to me. ¡®Mirabelle, seriously? He¡¯s insulting me for owning fake clothes. I admit it, yeah, I bought a few lookalikes because I didn¡¯t want to show up looking like a total nobody. Now he wants receipts? What next, my tax returns?¡¯


    Ashton looked at me too, quiet for a moment.


    Then he pulled out his phone. His thumb started scrolling through something fast.


    ¡®Two properties in Wessexia. Both bought by Clive Granger. Three supercars, each priced in the eight figures, also paid for by Granger. You im he treats you like shit, but he¡¯s out here buying you half the city. You get a monthly transfer from him. Two hundred grand. Minimum. And you expect me to believe you¡¯re struggling?¡¯


    He tilted the phone just enough for me to see, then turned the screen towards Daniel.


    The image was of a marble townhouse with manicured hedges and a five-car driveway.


    Daniel¡¯s face shifted, not all at once, just slowly drained of the smugness he¡¯d been clinging to.


    Ashton continued, ¡®You never bought property after you came back. Fine. But don¡¯t act like you¡¯re couch-surfing. You¡¯re renting a ce for fifty grand a month. Still crying broke?¡¯


    He swiped his screen again.


    He flicked it towards me.


    Another photo.


    A high-rise t with ss walls, long terrace, pale stone floors, and floor-to-ceiling curtains.


    ¡®A pampered little heir waking up in two hundred square metres of air-conditioned silence, then dragging himself here on a bike for a minimum-wage gig. For what? Pocket change?¡¯


    He handed me the phone.


    I took it.


    The report ran long.


    Photos. Transaction logs. Lease documents.


    I scrolled through all of it, one by one, and my grip on the phone kept tightening.


    He¡¯d worked with me for weeks, gotten the job done withoutints, covered for me more than once.


    I¡¯d actually thought he was decent.


    When he told me Clive froze him out, I believed him.


    I knew what the Grangers were like, knew Louisa was the only one in that family with a conscience.


    It wasn¡¯t hard to imagine Clive abandoning a kid overseas and pretending he didn¡¯t exist.


    But now I was staring at proof that Clive funded his whole damn lifestyle.


    I lowered my arm and stared straight at him.


    ¡®So everything you said just now was a lie. Back in Sunset City, you said you didn¡¯t have a grand to buy a phone. That was a lie too? What are you actually after? Why pretend?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not¡ª!¡¯ Daniel struggled to stand. ¡®The ts in Wessexia, yeah, I live there with my mum, but they¡¯re not in my name. Clive¡¯s name¡¯s on the deeds. He never gave us anything extra. No allowances, nothing. It just looks fancy from the outside. We couldn¡¯t even afford prescriptions when my mum got sick. And the cars? I was allowed to drive them, but they weren¡¯t mine. Not one of them.¡¯


    His eyes pleaded with me.


    I looked away.


    ¡®I¡¯m renting a ce now. Well, technically crashing at a friend¡¯s. He knew I had nowhere to go, offered me the keys. That¡¯s all. And that whole ¡°two hundred grand a month¡± thing? That¡¯s bullshit. You¡¯ve got no proof. You¡¯re using me of stuff that never happened.¡¯


    He turned to Ashton, chin lifted. ¡®You found some wires to Wessexia. That¡¯s it. No receipts with my name, no direct transfers. Just a theory. You¡¯ve got nothing.¡¯


    Ashton shrugged. ¡®You¡¯re right. I¡¯ve got no proof. But you¡¯ve got an agenda, and I know it.¡¯


    Daniel¡¯s face flushed.


    He looked at me.


    ¡®Mirabelle,e on! You know me. You¡¯ve seen me here every day, I¡¯ve never crossed a line with you. I wouldn¡¯t. I¡¯ve got no reason to¡ª¡¯


    ¡®I trust him,¡¯ I said.

 Chapter 223 - 224 Battery-operated Boyfriend

    <h4>Chapter 223: Chapter 224 Battery-operated Boyfriend</h4>


    ¡®I trust him.¡¯ I took Ashton¡¯s hand in mine. ¡®He¡¯s my husband.¡¯


    Daniel looked like he wanted to argue, but I didn¡¯t give him the opportunity. ¡®Doesn¡¯t matter what you meant to do. Doesn¡¯t matter if you¡¯ve already done it. I¡¯m not interested in hearing the rest. You lied. Repeatedly. That¡¯s enough. You¡¯re not staying. You¡¯re not my friend. That part¡¯s over.¡¯


    I turned without waiting for a reaction.


    ¡®Priya!¡¯ I called out. ¡®Get his termination sorted. Now.¡¯


    ¡®So that¡¯s it?¡¯ Daniel stood where he was. ¡®I tried exining everything, but you never believed me in the first ce. You called me your friend, but you never meant it!¡¯


    He stepped forward, only two feet, but too close.


    Ashton shoved him back. ¡®Whatever you were after, stay the hell away from her. Don¡¯te near either of us again.¡¯


    Then he turned, still holding on to me. ¡®Let¡¯s go home.¡¯


    I nodded.


    Behind us, Daniel shouted, ¡®Mirabelle, just because I lied a little, you¡¯re throwing me out? I didn¡¯t do anything wrong!¡¯


    I didn¡¯t look back.


    ***


    I showed up at the studio around eleven, dragging myself up the stairs with one hand pressed against my lower back.


    My legs felt like rubber, and I was still sore in ces I wasn¡¯t going to name.


    Last night, I¡¯d told Ashton I was heading to Yvaine¡¯s for the evening, said she needed help with something and it couldn¡¯t wait.


    Of course, Ashton didn¡¯t buy a word of it.


    The man made me call her on speaker.


    Yvaine tried to y along but made a mess of it.


    Ashton listened to about three sentences before he hung up the call.


    He turned off the lights, stripped, climbed into bed, and used his fingers and tongue until I was pushed to the edge.


    Right at the moment when I was about to climax, the bastard rolled off me, told me I looked exhausted, so he¡¯d let me rest.


    Then he pretended to close his eyes and sleep.


    Two secondster, I was straddling him and begging.


    And he still said no with a straight face, like some smug, infuriating monk.


    In the heat of the moment, I said some things which I now regretted deeply, such as revisiting my battery-operated boyfriend.


    That set him off, and he pushed me until I screamed into the mattress and cursed him every way I knew.


    That only made him go harder.


    And longer.


    I passed out around four.


    I hadn¡¯t nned toe in today, but with Daniel gone, I figured Priya couldn¡¯t handle everything solo.


    As soon as Ashton left the house, I hauled myself into a cab and came straight here.


    Priya popped out from behind the counter.


    She dropped her voice. ¡®Dan came in early.¡¯


    I stopped. ¡®What?¡¯


    Dan, as in Daniel, as in the guy I fired yesterday?


    Priya said, ¡®Earlier than me. He said something about the site needing a back-end patch only he can do.¡¯ She looked conflicted. ¡®Then he pulled the contract and told me we can¡¯t terminate without cause.¡¯


    My face fell.


    After everything that had happened, he still had the nerve to show up here and act like it was business as usual?


    Footsteps pounded down the stairs.


    Daniel appeared with an amnesiac grin.


    ¡®Morning!¡¯ he chirped.


    I didn¡¯t smile. ¡®What the hell do you think you¡¯re doing?¡¯


    He walked right up to me. ¡®I¡¯m not quitting. You¡¯re swamped. It¡¯ll take you ages to find a recement. Why not keep the guy who already knows how everything works?¡¯


    I crossed my arms. ¡®That¡¯s not your problem.¡¯


    He gave me this pathetic, kicked-puppy look, mouth turned down, eyes all wide.


    ¡®Come on, Mira. We were friends. You really want to pretend none of that meant anything?¡¯


    I sighed. ¡®I did consider you a friend. Until you lied. I don¡¯t want you here anymore.¡¯


    ¡®I didn¡¯t lie,¡¯ he insisted. ¡®You just never asked about my family, and it never came up. I exined everythingst night. I didn¡¯t do anything to hurt you.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re Rhys Granger¡¯s brother. That¡¯s enough. Just seeing your face makes my skin crawl.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not exactly on his side. I¡¯d love to see him buried in debt and living under a bridge. Enemy of your enemy and all that. Shouldn¡¯t that make me your favourite person?¡¯


    I stared at him.


    He kept going. ¡®I could strip his whole empire, drag his reputation through the dirt. Wouldn¡¯t that cheer you up?¡¯


    I raised my hand. ¡®Stop. He means nothing to me. You want to screw him over, do it on your own time. I don¡¯t care.¡¯


    ¡®Fine. Truth is, I¡¯m starting at Granger Development next week. You won¡¯t have to fire me, I¡¯ll leave on my own. Just let me help until then. The studio¡¯s a mess, I¡¯ve got nothing better to do, and you don¡¯t even have to pay me.¡¯


    I wanted to scream, or throw something.


    Logic and emotion warred within me.


    Logic said he hadn¡¯t done anything technically wrong, and being Rhys Granger¡¯s brother wasn¡¯t his fault.


    Emotion said, to hell with logic, I don¡¯t like his face!


    Still... I nced at Priya, and the heavy bags under her eyes.


    I rubbed my temple. ¡®Fine. Stay. It¡¯s only for a few days anyway. But until you start at Granger Development, I¡¯m noting in.¡¯


    If I couldn¡¯t kick him out, I¡¯d vanish.


    There were no urgent sketches due anyway, and no need to see his face.


    As I turned to leave, Daniel¡¯s voice jumped up behind me. ¡®So it¡¯s me or you? Seriously?¡¯


    I didn¡¯t break stride. ¡®My husband¡¯s the jealous type.¡¯


    I shut the door behind me.


    I had no idea where I was going.


    I thought about swinging by Yvaine¡¯s cake shop; she¡¯d opened a new one downtown.


    Before I could decide, Ashton rang. ¡®Why aren¡¯t you in bed?¡¯

 Chapter 224 - 225 Not-so-secret Meeting

    <h4>Chapter 224: Chapter 225 Not-so-secret Meeting</h4>


    ¡®I came to the studio,¡¯ I said. ¡®Daniel wouldn¡¯t leave, so I did. Let me guess, you asked Geoffrey where I was again. Keeping tabs on me?¡¯


    ¡®Didn¡¯t have to. I guessed.¡¯ Ashton changed the topic quickly. ¡®Why¡¯s that kid still there?¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s leaving in a few days. Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m not keeping him.¡¯


    ¡®You free now?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah.¡¯


    ¡®Good. Come to the hospital. You¡¯ll want front-row seats.¡¯


    ***


    Ashton and Dominic were already there when I entered the hospital room.


    ¡®What are we doing here?¡¯ I muttered, ncing around.


    Ashton stood from the narrow couch by the window, tugged me down beside him, and pressed his palm to my lower back.


    ¡®Still sore?¡¯ His hand moved lower, his thumb grazing the base of my spine.


    I shoved his wrist away and shifted on the cushion.


    My face burned.


    Dominic¡¯s eyes stayed glued to his phone, thumbs tapping the screen like he hadn¡¯t heard a thing.


    I exhaled slowly.


    I shot Ashton a look.


    He grinned.


    I narrowed my eyes and stared harder at him, the kind of stare that said: stop acting like a horny idiot, we¡¯re not alone.


    ¡®Alright, alright,¡¯ he said, halfughing.


    Then he turned to Dominic. ¡®Is it ready?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah.¡¯


    Dominic passed me a pair of earbuds.


    I took them without asking, slid them in, and nearly jerked back when a familiar voice came through. ¡®What¡¯s wrong with you?¡¯


    I nced sharply at Ashton. ¡®You nted a bug somewhere?¡¯


    ¡®The next room.¡¯ He nodded. ¡®Sort of. Signal¡¯s dodgy, but it works.¡¯


    I nodded and leaned in, trying to catch every word.


    Rowan¡¯s voice was clearer now, sharp and nasal. ¡®Why are you in hospital?¡¯


    Through the muffled feed, I could hear movement¡ªfabric rustling, a dull creak, someone breathing through their nose.


    Gwendolyn sounded faint. ¡®Ashton froze all my cards. Let the house staff go. I¡¯ve got nothing left. Here at least I get meals and a clean bed.¡¯ She paused. ¡®And no bills.¡¯


    ¡®You seem surprisingly chill for someone who just got financially castrated,¡¯ Rowan said lightly, then added, ¡®Did he find out?¡¯


    ¡®About the photos of Mirabelle and Daniel? Yeah. He knows.¡¯


    Rowan¡¯s voice shot up an octave. ¡®The only copies were with us. How the hell does he know?¡¯


    ¡®I showed him.¡¯


    ¡®We agreed to hold onto them! For leverageter. What was the point in giving them to Ashton now?¡¯


    Gwendolyn¡¯s voice was equally resentful. ¡®You¡¯re pissed I gave him the pictures? Then exin why the paparazzo you hired med me for it.¡¯


    ¡®What are you talking about?¡¯


    ¡®He told the cops I put him up to it. I didn¡¯t even know his name. But he said it was me. Convenient.¡¯


    Rowan let out a nervousugh. ¡®He probably got mixed up. I had nothing to do with that.¡¯


    I imagined Gwendolyn ring at Rowan with her beautiful but mean eyes. ¡®I took the fall for you. That¡¯s why Ashton cut off my cards and dumped his dad in bloody Africa. And you show up just to scream at me?¡¯


    ¡®I wasn¡¯t¡ª¡¯ Rowan cut herself off. She lowered her voice. ¡®I just overreacted. Sorry. But it wasn¡¯t me.¡¯


    She paused, then switched tone, softer, trying to sound helpful. ¡®So what now? You¡¯re just going to camp out here forever?¡¯


    Gwendolyn sounded suddenly exhausted. ¡®It¡¯s quiet here. No one asks questions. Ashton said if I pull any more stunts, his father¡¯s stuck in Africa for good. So, for now, I¡¯m done.¡¯


    The room fell quiet for a long minute.


    Ashton took my hand and yed with my fingers, apparently finding them much more interesting than the conversation going on next door.


    Rowan spoke in a coaxing voice. ¡®You remember what we agreed. I¡¯d drive a wedge between Ashton and Mirabelle, and you¡¯d help me marry him. Once he¡¯s in our pocket, the whole Laurent family bends to you. Right now¡ª¡¯


    Gwendolyn cut her off. ¡®I don¡¯t need you to remind me of what we agreed.¡¯


    I nced at Ashton, cocked an eyebrow, pointed to the wall separating us from the next room, and mouthed the words ¡®your admirer¡¯.


    He shook his head gravely as if denying such a serious usation


    Next door, Rowan continued, ¡®I know. Just hear me out. Right now, he¡¯s pissed, you¡¯re broke, and every single one of you is hanging off his mood swings. When Edouard croaks, you really think you¡¯ll see a cent?¡¯


    ¡®So what¡¯s your n?¡¯ Gwendolyn asked reluctantly.


    ¡®I don¡¯t have one.¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯


    Rowan sounded equally surprised. ¡®You are the one who dragged me out here like you had some genius idea. I wouldn¡¯t havee if you hadn¡¯t insisted on it. I hate hospitals, full of nosy staff and phones. But so far, all I hear from you isints and moreints. You¡¯ve seriously got nothing?¡¯


    ¡®What the hell are you talking about? You texted me, said you wanted to meet. I thought something had happened.¡¯


    ¡®Me? You¡¯re the one who asked to talk. I only came because I thought you had something urgent.¡¯


    A moment of tense silenceter, Rowan said, ¡®This, look, a new number. Yours. You said your phone was bugged, you had to switch numbers. You also gave me the room number.¡¯


    I imagined Rowan shoving her phone in Gwendolyn¡¯s face.


    Gwendolyn: ¡®What? Me? No! You said it was urgent, had to meet. Then I sent you my room number. You texted me first. Let me see that... Wait. That¡¯s the same number.¡¯ She read out: ¡®New number, can¡¯t talk, meet in person.¡¯


    Rowan swore. ¡®Shit. Someone¡¯s screwing with us.¡¯


    The door handle turned.


    Both their heads whipped round.


    Ashton stepped in first. ¡®Well. Cosy. You two know each other?¡¯


    I walked in after him.


    Rowan tried to smile. ¡®Ashton! What a surprise.¡¯

 Chapter 225 - 226 Reprisal

    <h4>Chapter 225: Chapter 226 Reprisal</h4>


    ¡®To you, maybe,¡¯ he said coolly. ¡®You haven¡¯t answered my question.¡¯


    ¡®Well, um... your mum¡¯s my sponsor back in school. She¡¯s helped me a lot. When I heard she wasn¡¯t well, I came to visit.¡¯ Rowan hastened to add, ¡®I only just found out she¡¯s your stepmother. Total coincidence.¡¯


    ¡®Right. She came to see me,¡¯ Gwendolyn added quickly. ¡®I just found out you two went to school together in Wessexia. What are the odds, huh? Small world.¡¯


    Ashton looked pointedly at the empty bedside table. ¡®Youe visit a patient and show up empty-handed?¡¯


    Rowan hesitated. ¡®I left in a rush. I forgot.¡¯


    ¡®We¡¯re close. There¡¯s no need for gifts,¡¯ Gwendolyn muttered.


    ¡®Stop bullshitting,¡¯ Ashton cut her off.


    He raised his phone and hit y.


    The audio poured out, tinny, but clear.


    Their voices filled the room, every word from the earlier argument.


    Gwendolyn had gone rigid.


    Rowan looked at the floor.


    Ashton let it run a few more seconds, then stopped the recording. ¡®Still sticking with the hospital visit excuse?¡¯


    Rowan recovered first. ¡®It wasn¡¯t me, Ashton. Your mum made me do it. She paid for my tuition, I owed her. She told me toe here. She said I had to mess with you two. She nned everything! Gwendolyn came up with the photos. I just... followed instructions. She told me exactly what to do.¡¯


    ¡®You lying bitch!¡¯ Gwendolyn ripped the nket off, climbed out of bed and pped Rowan hard across the face. ¡®You begged me to help you. Every part of it was your idea. Don¡¯t you dare dump it on me.¡¯


    Rowan clutched her cheek, which was rapidly turning red. Tears flowed onmand. ¡®It¡¯s not true! You used me¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Bullshit!¡¯


    Their voices shed.


    I stuck close to the door and wished I had popcorn in hand.


    Ashton¡¯s voice cut through the ovepping recriminations. ¡®Guess my father¡¯s extending his safari. You¡¯ll have plenty of time to exin all this when he gets back.¡¯


    Gwendolyn stopped mid-shout and turned to him. ¡®It wasn¡¯t me! You heard what I said. I told her to stop. I didn¡¯t want any of this. I¡¯ve been trying to fix things so your father cane home¡ª¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s not what happened!¡¯ Rowan burst out between sobs. ¡®She told me what to do¡ª¡¯


    They both kept talking over each other, each louder than thest.


    My head ping-ponged back and forth between them and I could barely track who was using who of what anymore.


    Ashton raised a hand, silencing them. ¡®Don¡¯t repeat yourselves. I don¡¯t give a damn which one of you came up with it. You both did it.¡¯


    His gazended on Gwendolyn. ¡®You want to keep lying? Fine. Then your husband can rot in Africa for another three years.¡¯


    ¡®As for you.¡¯ He turned to Rowan next. ¡®You couldn¡¯t make a dent overseas, that¡¯s why you crawled back here. Guess what, I¡¯ll make sure Skyline ms the door on you even faster.¡¯


    Rowan nched. ¡®Ashton¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t ¡°Ashton¡± me. I¡¯m not your friend. I¡¯ve deleted your number, and I suggest you do the same with mine. We¡¯re done.¡¯


    He turned and reached for my wrist. ¡®Let¡¯s go.¡¯


    I left with him, now that the show was over.


    ¡®Is it really over, though?¡¯ I asked as we came out of the hospital. ¡®Will they back off for good, now that you¡¯ve exposed their evil machinations?¡¯


    ¡®They know better than to try again,¡¯ Ashton said.


    He looked thoughtful. ¡®Though, to make sure...¡¯


    He pulled out his phone and dialled.


    He was on the phone with Dominic for less than five minutes.


    ¡®What did you ask him to do?¡¯ I asked once he hung up.


    ¡®Just make a few calls.¡¯


    I wasn¡¯t sure what he meant untilter that afternoon, when he sent me screenshots.


    Dominic had sent him an update:


    [Rowan just lost her spot on StarSignal, the variety show she was supposed to debut on. Brand deal with Zaphir Skincare¡¯s gone too. The others are falling through one by one.]


    I scrolled.


    There were eight cancelled projects.


    Even when her agency offered to cut her rate, nobody bit.


    Then another update came through.


    [Rowan posted a vague brag about performing at the Skyline G, tagged it and everything. A minute ago, g organisers replied to her post directly: ¡®No such invite was issued to Miss Hale.¡¯]


    I pictured Rowan seeing this merciless disimer, watching it all fall apart, losing everything in ten minutes.


    I didn¡¯t feel sorry for her.


    Priya¡¯s name lit up on my phone.


    I picked up.


    ¡®Mirabelle! Rhys Granger just stormed into the studio. He found out Dan¡¯s his brother or something and now he¡¯s screaming you and Dan tricked him. He¡¯s demanding you show up and exin. Shit, now they¡¯re fighting!¡¯


    Behind her voice, I could hear loud crashing, metal scraping tile, something heavy thudding against a wall.


    My first reaction on hearing Rhys¡¯s name was¡ªwhy couldn¡¯t he take his family drama elsewhere? Why my studio?


    If this had happened a year ago, I might¡¯ve called Louisa to check in.


    But ever since the engagement ended, we barely exchanged pleasantries, let alone sympathy.


    ¡®They won¡¯t stop.¡¯ Priya sounded more concerned than scared. ¡®Dan won¡¯t back down, Rhys looks ready to kill him. I can¡¯t get between them, Mirabelle, please¡ª¡¯


    More smashing. ss and furniture.


    I could hear fistsnding.


    ¡®I¡¯m noting back. I don¡¯t care what they¡¯re fighting about. And you need to stay the hell out of it. I don¡¯t want you catching an elbow because they can¡¯t manage their daddy issues.¡¯


    ¡®But¡ª¡¯


    ¡®There¡¯s nothing valuable in the studio. No jewellery. Let them break whatever they want. They¡¯ll pay for it. Call the police. And if one of them ends up bleeding, call an ambnce. Just don¡¯t get in the middle.¡¯


    ¡®Okay.¡¯


    I hung up.


    I¡¯d meant to swing by Yvaine¡¯s new shop, but now I just wanted to get home and pass out.


    My lower back still ached.


    Priya called again minutester.

 Chapter 226 - 227 Man-child

    <h4>Chapter 226: Chapter 227 Man-child</h4>


    ¡®Police came,¡¯ Priya said. ¡®They¡¯re handling it. Rhys and Dan both got hurt. Dan¡¯s worse. They¡¯ve been taken to the hospital.¡¯ She paused. ¡®The studio¡¯s a wreck. Again.¡¯


    I sighed. ¡®I¡¯m on my way.¡¯


    I couldn¡¯t leave Priya to deal with the mess alone.


    When I got there, the street was empty, and the police were gone.


    Inside, the door was still half-open, the metal frame bent slightly at the hinge.


    The ce looked like it had been trashed by a lunatic with a baseball bat.


    Computers were smashed, monitors on the floor, their screens cracked.


    Tables were overturned; chairs were scattered, some snapped in half, the stuffing spilling out.


    Blood streaked the white tiles in two directions, thick and dark, already drying at the edges.


    I didn¡¯t want to know who had left it.


    I got to work clearing ss, dragging chairs into a pile, picking up splintered wood.


    Priya helped silently.


    We filled two bin bags before I finally dropped into one of the few intact chairs.


    My shoulders were tight, and my palms were burning from the cuts.


    The bell at the door jingled once.


    Rhys stood in the doorway.


    His shirt was half-buttoned, one sleeve rolled up sloppily.


    His lip was split.


    There was a fresh bandage stretched across his neck, another one around his wrist.


    His jaw looked swollen, turning a sickly shade of grey-green.


    Priya shot up. ¡®Are you insane? You just left the hospital and already back for round two? I swear¡ª¡¯


    He ignored her, his eyes locking on mine.


    He stepped in, limping slightly.


    ¡®Just tell me one thing. You knew he was my father¡¯s bastard all along. You kept seeing him anyway. Were you trying to get back at me?¡¯


    I stood, moved three steps away from him.


    ¡®No,¡¯ I said coldly. ¡®I didn¡¯t know. And it¡¯s not my problem. Your family mess has nothing to do with me.¡¯


    Rhys red like he was trying to burn a hole through my skull.


    ¡®Do you know what my dad just told me? Thirty per cent. He¡¯s giving that bastard thirty per cent of thepany. I¡¯ve been breaking my back at Granger Development for five years and I don¡¯t even have thirty. And he just hands it to some nobody who showed up out of nowhere.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t give me a chance to say ¡®Don¡¯t care, didn¡¯t ask.¡¯ and barrelled on. ¡®He came straight to your studio the moment he got back to Skyline. You two must¡¯ve been talking behind my back for months. What is this, some n to cut me out and split my inheritance between you?¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t tter yourself,¡¯ I said. ¡®You¡¯re not that important.¡¯


    He let out a lowugh, acent, smug one, and I knew he was about to say something stupid.


    ¡®You don¡¯t have to y games. If it¡¯s money you want, just tell me. Whatever you¡¯re scheming for, I¡¯ll give it to you.¡¯


    I looked him dead in the eye. ¡®I wouldn¡¯t take a cent from you if you get on your knees and beg me.¡¯


    I stepped past the broken table and started moving around him.


    He blocked the way, arms stiff at his sides.


    ¡®I¡¯m not done,¡¯ he said quickly. ¡®I came to apologise. I shouldn¡¯t havee at Dan like that. He pushed my buttons and I just... snapped. It got out of hand. I didn¡¯t mean to wreck your ce. That was on me.¡¯


    ¡®You were howling for justice half a minute ago. Sounded like you were ready to level the whole building.¡¯


    ¡®That was the rage talking,¡¯ he said. ¡®You¡¯ve seen me lose it before. I thought you¡¯d understand. He¡¯s been lying to everyone. The bastard¡¯s fooled you too¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Stop calling him that,¡¯ I cut in. ¡®Every time you spit out ¡°that bastard¡±, you sound like a bigger prick.¡¯


    Out of the two of them, Dan had been the one actually showing up, getting work done, not shattering furniture and bleeding on the floor.


    Between a sulky man-child and a quiet employee (though one that was proving difficult to get rid of), I knew which one gave me fewer migraines.


    ¡®You stormed in here spoiling for a fight, and now it¡¯s Dan¡¯s fault you lost your temper? It just proves how unstable you are. Go back to your hospital bed and stay there.¡¯


    Rhys¡¯s eyes, already slightly swollen, widened to saucer-like proportions. ¡®You¡¯re defending him?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not defending anyone. I¡¯m telling you this isn¡¯t your turf. Get out.¡¯


    His face dropped.


    He tried to look wounded. ¡®I came to apologise.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t bother. Just pay for what you broke.¡¯


    ¡®I will.¡¯ He reached into his coat and pulled out a chequebook. ¡®I lost it earlier. I¡¯ll cover everything.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t take the cheque he offered. ¡®You¡¯ll pay once the cops finish their report. Through proper channels. Not now.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t want it to look like we¡¯d reached a private settlement.


    I didn¡¯t want it to look like Rhys and I had a ¡®private¡¯ anything.


    His hand hung in the air for a second before he lowered it.


    I waited for him to leave.


    He didn¡¯t get the hint.


    ¡®Mirabelle, it¡¯s been hell. Catherine won¡¯t sign the papers. Keeps dragging things out. My father blindsided us with some bastard son, wants to make him a Granger, put him in the boardroom like I¡¯m already gone. My mum had a cardiac episode and ended up hospitalised. I wasn¡¯t nning to start anything with Daniel, I was¡ª¡¯


    ¡®How¡¯s Aunt Louisa?¡¯ I interrupted his unsolicited soul-baring.


    Rhys looked up fast, eyes glinting with hope. ¡®You still care about me, don¡¯t you?¡¯


    ¡®I care about Aunt Louisa. You¡¯ve got nothing to do with it.¡¯


    ¡®Right.¡¯ His shoulders drooped once more. ¡®She¡¯s all right. It wasn¡¯t serious. Her health¡¯s always shaky. This time it was the stress.¡¯


    I said nothing, busy weighing up whether I should call the police, and wondering if Priya had already done it.


    Rhys rubbed his eyes with the heel of one hand. Then: ¡®Mirabelle... I made a mistake. I¡¯ve filed for divorce. Once it¡¯s final... would you ever¡ª¡¯

 Chapter 227 - 228 A Cleanse

    <h4>Chapter 227: Chapter 228 A Cleanse</h4>


    ¡®Are you deranged?¡¯ I couldn¡¯t suppress my gag reflex. ¡®I¡¯m married. Happily. To a man who doesn¡¯t cheat and doesn¡¯t cry like a baby.¡¯ I thrust my hand with the ring right under his eyeballs. ¡®You and Catherine deserve each other. You two should never divorce. Keep your mess in-house.¡¯


    He grabbed my hand.


    I yanked it back so hard my shoulder twinged. ¡®Don¡¯t touch me!¡¯


    ¡®Ashton doesn¡¯t love you! I saw him, from a post, all over some actress outside a hotel. You must have seen it too. You think that guy¡¯s loyal? You think he¡¯s going to stick around?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re lying.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not¡ª¡¯


    ¡®You are. You read it in some gossip rag and decided it was true because it made you feel better about your own pathetic shit.¡¯


    His mouth opened again.


    ¡®You walking out or am I calling the cops?¡¯


    His face twisted. ¡®You really feel nothing for me?¡¯


    He sounded on the verge of tears.


    His eyes, on top of being swollen, were also red-rimmed.


    He looked like he hadn¡¯t slept in days, or had a shower.


    ¡®Priya, call the police,¡¯ I shouted.


    Rhys suddenly doubled over, clutching his stomach. ¡®Don¡¯t.¡¯


    He sank into a squat, sweat breaking out across his forehead.


    A thick vein bulged near his temple.


    His mouth hung ck.


    Priya and I exchanged a look.


    ¡®I¡¯ve got stomach cramps,¡¯ Rhys croaked. ¡®Got into it with Daniel earlier. It red up again.¡¯


    He slid closer and reached towards my ankle. ¡®It fucking hurts.¡¯


    I stepped around him before he got close.


    My heel clipped the edge of his hand.


    ¡®Not my problem if you start convulsing. You have a phone. Call an ambnce.¡¯


    ¡®No, no hospital. I just need somewhere to lie down... Could you grab something from the pharmacy...?¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯


    I shot Priya a look and telegraphed a message: [Drag him out. Gently.]


    She winced. [Seriously?]


    [Seriously.]


    I would have done it myself, except I didn¡¯t want to touch Rhys.


    Priya shuffled over, crouched, and got an arm under him.


    He groaned weakly.


    She pulled like she was dragging a corpse.


    It was a mess of limbs and wheezing, but she got him to the door.


    He straightened up halfway there, suddenly stable enough to walk.


    He nced back at me. ¡®Knew you still cared.¡¯


    ¡®I care about not having a corpse in my studio. Go die on the pavement. At least that¡¯s public property.¡¯


    Priya shoved him onto the kerb and hurried back in.


    ¡®I don¡¯t think he was faking,¡¯ she muttered. ¡®He looked like he was actually in pain. What now?¡¯


    ¡®Call an ambnce. Just in case.¡¯


    ¡®On it.¡¯


    The sirens came quickly, and the medics loaded him in.


    Priya and I cleared up the rest of the mess.


    Within fifteen minutes, the ce looked normal again, not ready for business yet, but at least it no longer looked like a tornado had visited.


    I stretched out my arms, shoulders stiff, back aching. ¡®Two smash-ups in less than a week. Maybe it¡¯s time to shut this ce down.¡¯


    I wasn¡¯t joking.


    The thought of closing the studio, at least for a while, had been circling for days.


    Thepetition collection had done well, sold out quickly.


    Now the hype had cooled, and the orders weren¡¯t pouring in anymore.


    The celebmissions I¡¯d taken on were nearly finished.


    What was left could be wrapped up by Priya.


    No reason to keep dragging it out.


    I sighed and nced around the space.


    The dent in the doorframe was patched, but I couldn¡¯t stop seeing it.


    After giving Priya the rest of the day off, I grabbed my keys and left.


    There was nothing urgent left to do, and I needed something with sugar and butter for a mood boost.


    I headed to Yvaine¡¯s new patisserie, parked illegally, and ducked inside.


    No sign of her behind the counter.


    I ordered a lemon tart and a ck coffee, found a table by the window, and rang her.


    ¡®Didn¡¯t you say you¡¯d be at the shop all week? It¡¯sunch week. Where the hell are you?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re there?¡¯ Yvaine sounded surprised. ¡®I¡¯m at the dance studio with Cade. He¡¯s rehearsing.¡¯


    ¡®What? His doctor literally said no heavy movement.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah, well, try telling him that. He¡¯s being stubborn. The show starts filming right after the holidays. All the contestants can sing and dance. He¡¯s solid vocally, but the dancing¡¯s where he¡¯s shaky. He¡¯s trying to catch up before taping starts.¡¯


    ¡®But it¡¯s a bone injury. He shouldn¡¯t be pushing it. That stuff takes months to heal.¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s fine,¡¯ Yvaine said brightly. ¡®He¡¯s young, he heals fast. And I¡¯m keeping an eye on him, he¡¯s not going to drop dead mid-step. Anyway, you came all the way to the shop to find me? What¡¯s up?¡¯


    ¡®I just needed sugar,¡¯ I muttered. ¡®Today¡¯s been a mess. Thought I¡¯d swing by, say hi, maybe steal a croissant if you weren¡¯t looking. Since you¡¯re off ying dance mum, I¡¯ll finish my tart and head out.¡¯


    ¡®What happened?¡¯


    I told her.


    She swore loud enough to make my phone rattle. ¡®That¡¯s ridiculous. And that¡¯s twice in one week.¡¯


    ¡®Exactly what I was thinking. Apparently my bad luck¡¯s trending.¡¯


    ¡®Mira, that is not normal. You need a cleanse.¡¯


    ¡®You mean like a spa?¡¯


    ¡®No. A spiritual cleanse. Psychic stuff.¡¯


    I blinked at the window.


    A pigeonnded on the sill and stared at my tart.


    ¡®Since when are you into all that?¡¯ I waved at the pigeon; it didn¡¯t wave back.


    ¡®Since I started sleeping with someone who burns sage before bed.¡¯


    ¡®Right. Hard pass.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t knock it till you¡¯ve been to her. She¡¯s legit. Told me I¡¯m marrying someone five years younger in four years. Said it¡¯s a spring wedding. April, specifically.¡¯


    ¡®Was your hot young boyfriend standing in the room when she said that?¡¯

 Chapter 228 - 229 Post-coital Face

    <h4>Chapter 228: Chapter 229 Post-coital Face</h4>


    ¡®Coincidentally, yes. But that¡¯s not the point. If you don¡¯t want the psychic, at least go for the view. Her shop¡¯s in Elmridge, near The Skyveil Trail. It¡¯s a tourist spot. Waterfalls, woods, vineyards, the whole thing. Google it.¡¯


    I did after we hung up.


    Apparently, it was more than just a trail.


    There was Skyveil Falls, Echo Grove, The Overlook at Dusk, Pine & Pour Taproom, Old Bramble Farm.


    And a whole street packed with psychics, tarot readers, crystal shops, energy healing pop-ups.


    In the Instagram pics, half the town looked like a glittery fever dream.


    I scrolled through a few posts.


    Reviews mentioned the air smelling clean, the quiet, the food trucks.


    It wouldn¡¯t kill me to get out of the city for two days.


    Even if I skipped the psychic, I could at least eat a decent lunch and stare at a tree for once.


    I started looking at hotels.


    And I kept looking after dinner.


    Ashton tilted his head from the far end of the couch. ¡®You¡¯re going to Elmridge?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah. Just for a few days.¡¯


    He straightened. ¡®I¡¯ming too.¡¯


    ¡®Absolutely not.¡¯ I locked my phone and headed upstairs. ¡®You¡¯re staying here.¡¯


    I made it halfway up before he caught me from behind.


    One arm around my waist, then both feet off the ground.


    ¡®Ashton! Put me down!¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯


    He carried me straight towards the bedroom. ¡®You¡¯re trying to ditch me. That¡¯s what this is.¡¯


    Yeah, but I wasn¡¯t stupid enough to admit it out loud. ¡®I already made ns with Yvaine. Road trip, just the two of us.¡¯


    ¡®Yvaine¡¯s going?¡¯


    ¡®Yes. She wants some kind of psychic reading. She¡¯s looking for a good luck charm for her boyfriend.¡¯


    ¡®Cade?¡¯


    ¡®Yup. I figured I¡¯d check it out too, see if the woman¡¯s actually psychic or just stoned.¡¯


    I wrapped my arms around his neck.


    His skin was warm from the couch nket, faintly lemony.


    His jaw was still unshaven from this morning and a little scratchy against my cheek.


    He reached the bed and sat down, pulling me into hisp.


    I ended up straddling him without much of a say.


    ¡®Since when do you care about psychics?¡¯


    ¡®Since my studio got wrecked twice in one week. We¡¯re both starting to think it¡¯s cursed. I thought, why not? You¡¯ve got meetings all week anyway. It¡¯s not like you¡¯ll be bored.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t look thrilled. ¡®So Yvaine¡¯s boyfriend gets a good luck charm... and I don¡¯t?¡¯


    ¡®You want one?¡¯


    ¡®If it¡¯s from you.¡¯


    I leaned forward and kissed the corner of his mouth. ¡®I¡¯ll buy you the most expensive one she¡¯s got.¡¯


    Ashton slid his hand around the back of my neck and kissed me harder.


    ¡®How long are you gone for?¡¯ he asked once we both got our breath back.


    ¡®Three days.¡¯


    ¡®When are you leaving?¡¯


    ¡®Day after tomorrow. Morning.¡¯


    He shifted his grip to my waist and pushed me down t against the mattress.


    ¡®Then I better make up for the three days¡¯ lost time in advance.¡¯


    The next morning, I didn¡¯t get out of bed.


    On the day of departure, I was supposed to meet Yvaine at nine.


    I showed up half an hourte, walking like my joints had been reced with chewed gum.


    It took five hours to get to Elmridge.


    We were using Yvaine¡¯s car and agreed to split the drive.


    She volunteered to take the first half, but not until she¡¯d finishedughing at my... what she called my ¡®post-coital face¡¯.


    I didn¡¯t even know that was a thing.


    ¡®Sure it is,¡¯ she said. ¡®Droopy eyelids, swollen lips, legs like baby Bambi¡¯s, and that weird, blissed-out smile.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m just excited about the trip,¡¯ I said.


    ¡®Sure you are.¡¯


    Her good moodsted until we reached The PanContinental.


    A porter was waiting at the front door, but so was Cassian Langford.


    ¡®You told him?¡¯ Yvaine turned towards me, suspicious.


    ¡®No.¡¯ But I told Ashton about the trip, and he might have bbed to Cassian because, for reasons I couldn¡¯t understand, he still considered the man a friend.


    To make up for my indiscretion, I volunteered to get rid of Cassian for her.


    Yvaine shook her head. ¡®Never mind. Just ignore him.¡¯


    And she did.


    Cassian didn¡¯t get within six feet of Yvaine, who was nked by a porter on one side and me on the other.


    The porter was stocky, and I knew how to box.


    ***


    Yvaine knocked before my rm even buzzed.


    She¡¯d already pulled her hair into a ponytail and had a map open on her phone.


    ¡®We¡¯ve got to head out early if we want clean shots and no Cassian,¡¯ she said, shoving the screen in front of me.


    It showed the trailhead for Skyveil and a long line of starred pins.


    ¡®We stop here for photos,¡¯ she said, tapping the first pin. ¡®Then here for the view. By noon we hit the summit.¡¯


    ¡®Copy that.¡¯


    We hit the hotel buffet before eight.


    I¡¯d just refilled my te when I heard the screech of a chair behind me.


    Yvaine jerked forward, her stomach thudding into the table¡¯s edge.


    I turned around.


    Some grubby little brat had shoulder-checked Yvaine from behind.


    He was five or six, maybe, probably hopped up on syrup.


    Two adults who might be his parents sat one table over.


    Neither looked up, nor appeared to care.


    The kid kicked Yvaine¡¯s chair,ughed, then reached for her bag on the seat beside her.


    I circled around, stepped up to the adults¡¯ table. ¡®Mind watching your kid?¡¯


    The woman nced up. ¡®Yeah, sure.¡¯


    Then she went right back to her te.


    The kicking didn¡¯t stop.


    I raised my voice. ¡®Your son¡¯s been booting my friend¡¯s chair for five minutes and just tried to tear her bag apart. You¡¯re really not going to say anything?¡¯


    Yvaine yanked her bag off the chair, held up the p.


    The sp was hanging loose.


    She scowled. ¡®This was custom. He nearly snapped it in half.¡¯

 Chapter 229 - 230 Restaurant Dust-up

    <h4>Chapter 229: Chapter 230 Restaurant Dust-up</h4>


    The man gave the bag a single bored nce. ¡®It¡¯s just a bag. You want us to pay for that?¡¯


    Yvaine snorted. ¡®That¡¯s not the point. Maybe teach him to keep his hands off other people¡¯s things. And an apology wouldn¡¯t kill you.¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s just a kid. Why are you going after a kid? I¡¯m a VIP here. You¡¯d think my son has the right to sit in a restaurant. If you don¡¯t like it, go sit somewhere else.¡¯


    I frowned.


    Where was the logic in that?


    Because he was a VIP, so his kid could get away with anything?


    ¡®He¡¯s a kid. Fine. But you¡¯re not. Apologise,¡¯ I said. ¡®And your kid disrupted our table, not the other way around. Why should we move?¡¯


    The guy¡¯s voice shot up. ¡®You¡¯re disrupting my meal now! Raising your voice and bothering everyone¡ª¡¯


    I nced around.


    The restaurant was almost empty.


    His wife piped up. ¡®You¡¯re seriously picking on a five-year-old? Pathetic.¡¯


    The kid stuck his tongue out at us.


    Yvaine reached into her bag, froze. ¡®Where the hell is it? I swear I packed it.¡¯


    ¡®What¡¯s missing?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®My headphones. The limited-edition Finnish pair Emmett got me. I babied those. I packed them this morning myself.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re sure they were in there?¡¯


    ¡®One hundred per cent.¡¯


    I stared at the bag, then at the kid.


    We both turned to the parents.


    Yvaine spoke first. ¡®We¡¯re looking for a pair of headphones. Just checking if your son might¡¯ve taken them by ident.¡¯


    The mother scoffed. ¡®Earphones? What are they worth, five dors? You that desperate?¡¯


    Yvaine¡¯s voice went cold. ¡®They¡¯re a discontinued Finnish designer release. Twelve grand retail. Twenty now, if you can find one.¡¯


    The couple looked at each other, then burst outughing.


    The man swept his eyes over our trainers, Yvaine¡¯s oversized hoodie, my hiking gear.


    ¡®You two probably saved all year for this buffet lunch,¡¯ he said, sneering. ¡®Now you¡¯re trying to pull some scam over a fake designer headset? Real ssy.¡¯


    The manager finally wandered over, face stiff.


    His name tag said Bruce Zed.


    I faced him. ¡®My friend¡¯s property is missing. We want to check the CCTV.¡¯


    Bruce didn¡¯t look at us.


    He looked at the couple.


    Then he said, ¡®I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t authorise that.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re kidding,¡¯ Yvaine muttered.


    ¡®They¡¯re using my son of theft!¡¯ the man said. ¡®One damn headset and they¡¯re screaming twelve grand. It¡¯s a shakedown! Bruce, throw them out.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t look away. ¡®We never said your son stole anything. But if that¡¯s where your brain went, that¡¯s not on me.¡¯


    Yvaine folded her arms. ¡®Mine had cartoon prints all over it. Maybe the kid liked it and grabbed it. If you hand them over now, I won¡¯t call the police.¡¯


    I turned back to Bruce. ¡®This isn¡¯tplicated. Just check the footage.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t budge. ¡®I have to protect the guests¡¯ privacy.¡¯


    ¡®Guests or your friends?¡¯ I asked. ¡®You¡¯ve been swapping nces with them since we got here.¡¯


    Bruce cleared his throat. ¡®Mr Happy is a VIP. I would be remiss in my duties if I allowed a misunderstanding to upset such a valuable client.¡¯


    Happy¡ªseriously? Didn¡¯t he find that ironic?¡ªsmirked. ¡®I¡¯ve seen this scam before. Create drama, pretend some shy thing¡¯s missing, demand money. You think I¡¯m falling for that?¡¯


    I narrowed my eyes. ¡®We don¡¯t want your money. We just want the damn headset.¡¯


    Bruce¡¯s lips pinched. ¡®If you keep disturbing other guests, I¡¯ll have to call security.¡¯


    ¡®Please do,¡¯ I said. ¡®I¡¯d love to see you exin why you refused to check footage when a guest reported stolen property.¡¯


    The kid snickered behind his mother¡¯s legs.


    Then I noticed the bulge in his fist.


    His palm was clenched around something white and round, with a glossy case, cartoon stickers¡ªthe exact ones I¡¯d helped Yvaine apply this morning.


    Talk about getting caught red-handed.


    ¡®Don¡¯t bother with the cameras,¡¯ I said. ¡®He¡¯s holding it.¡¯


    Yvaine stepped forward. ¡®Give me what¡¯s in your hand. Now.¡¯


    The mother shrieked and pped her forearm hard enough to leave a red mark. ¡®You psycho! He¡¯s a child! You can¡¯t just grab him like that!¡¯


    The boy wailed, loud, red-faced, crocodile tears.


    The manager turned to us. ¡®You¡¯re disrupting business. If this continues, we will call the police.¡¯


    He said that to us, not the couple or the thief.


    I clenched my jaw. ¡®Go ahead. Please. Call them.¡¯


    The doors at the front of the restaurant swung open.


    A man walked in.


    ck windbreaker, grey joggers, trainers.


    The tension in my shoulders dropped on instinct.


    Ashton¡¯s eyes flicked over me once, checking.


    I gave a small nod, telling him I was fine.


    He turned to the manager. ¡®If I hadn¡¯t shown up, I wouldn¡¯t have known my hotel¡¯s being run by someone like this.¡¯


    Bruce Zed went pale under his tan.


    He stammered, tried to smile. ¡®Sir, I¡ªI didn¡¯t realise¡ª¡¯


    Another man jogged in from the back, out of breath. ¡®Mr Laurent! Apologies! I was in a meeting.¡¯


    He skidded to a stop next to Ashton, hand out, back slightly bent, smile too eager. ¡®I¡¯m Carter Kairo, general manager.¡¯


    Ashton didn¡¯t take his hand.


    Carter held the pose for a beat, then dropped his arm and cleared his throat. ¡®We¡¯ll handle this right away.¡¯


    Ashton was still staring down Bruce. ¡®You¡¯ve got one hour. I want to know exactly what ties he¡¯s got to this family. Then fire him.¡¯


    Carter nodded like his head was about to fall off. ¡®Yes, sir. Of course, sir. I¡¯ll look into it personally.¡¯


    Bruce staggered back a step and caught himself on a table.


    The brat¡¯s dad cleared his throat. ¡®We didn¡¯t mean any trouble. This girl here¡ª¡¯


    Ashton cut him off. ¡®That girl is my wife.¡¯


    Silence.


    Ashton turned back to Carter. ¡®If she ever has a single problem here again, you¡¯re out.¡¯


    ¡®Of course. Yes. Absolutely. I understand.¡¯


    The boy cowered behind his mum¡¯s legs, suddenly nervous.

 Chapter 230 - 231 Lover’s Span

    <h4>Chapter 230: Chapter 231 Lover¡¯s Span</h4>


    Ashton held out a hand.


    The simple gesture made the boy flinch.


    He handed over the case without a word.


    Ashton picked it up and passed it to Yvaine.


    She took it and slid it into her bag.


    ¡®You good?¡¯ Ashton asked her.


    Yvaine nodded.


    He turned back to me, held out his hand.


    I took it.


    We walked out together, not looking back.


    The second we were past the revolving door, Cassian came up, wagging an invisible tail and beaming at Yvaine.


    I asked Ashton, ¡®What are you doing here?¡¯


    ¡®I came to see you.¡¯ Then he added in a lower voice, ¡®The bed feels empty without you in it.¡¯


    ¡®Oh.¡¯ My heart fluttered a little. ¡®Okay, so, where you headed now?¡¯


    He looked at me like I was about to abandon him. ¡®I¡¯ming with you, of course.¡¯


    ¡®But we¡¯re going hiking, and you have work.¡¯


    ¡®Work can wait.¡¯


    I knew when I was beat, so I just shrugged.


    Cassian jumped in. ¡®Count me in. I can drive.¡¯


    Yvaine ignored him.


    Ashton pointed at an SUV idling at the kerb. ¡®That¡¯s my car.¡¯


    The sky hung low and heavy, a dull grey nket threatening rain.


    Yvaine and I settled into the backseat, Ashton ying chauffeur.


    I nced sideways at Yvaine and leaned in quietly. ¡®Looks like he¡¯s following us. What do you think?¡¯


    Cassian was tailing us in his Rolls-Royce.


    Yvaine snorted, her eyes flicking to the rear window. ¡®I think nothing. If I fell for his crap again, I¡¯d be daft.¡¯


    Just as we neared our destination, Ashton¡¯s phone buzzed.


    He tapped it, switching on the speaker.


    ¡®Mr Laurent.¡¯ I recognised Carter Kairo¡¯s obsequious voice. ¡®Bruce Zed is rted to the Happy family. A cousin of some sort. He used his position to issue them VIP cards. They¡¯ve been using those to stay at the hotel for free.¡¯


    The silence from Ashton¡¯s end must have made the manager uneasy.


    ¡®I¡¯ve revoked the VIP cards and fired Bruce,¡¯ he continued, stammering a little. ¡®This won¡¯t happen again.¡¯


    ¡®How did something like that even happen in my hotel in the first ce?¡¯ Ashton said. ¡®Were you sleeping on the job?¡¯


    The manager started grovelling, something about oversight, new protocols, tighter HR policies...


    His voice blurred after the first thirty seconds.


    Ashton cut him off. ¡®Send me the full corrective n. The yearly review¡¯sing. Whether you¡¯re the manager or the doorman next year depends on whether you actually fix it.¡¯


    ¡®Yes, of course! I¡¯ll send it within the hour!¡¯


    The call ended.


    Yvaine snapped her fingers. ¡®I knew it! No wonder they acted like they owned the ce.¡¯


    We didn¡¯t have time to keepining.


    Ashton had already pulled into a gravel lot surrounded by pine trees and faded wooden signs.


    He killed the engine. ¡®We¡¯re here.¡¯


    I pushed the door open and swung my backpack over one shoulder.


    We¡¯d barely stepped onto the trailhead when I spotted Cassian following us behind like an unshakeable tail.


    ¡®Just ignore him,¡¯ Yvaine muttered between gritted teeth.


    Skyveil Trail had two paths.


    One was steep, narrow, covered in loose gravel.


    The other had proper paving, wooden benches every hundred metres, and vendor stalls selling bottled water, fried dough, and disposable ponchos.


    Yvaine and I took the easy route.


    We strolled.


    She made me stop at every overlook, snapping at least fifteen photos before moving on.


    The mist covered most of the view, but the haze gave the shots a weirdly clean, washed-out look that somehow worked.


    Behind us, Cassian and Ashton dragged along a good thirty feet back.


    The rain from the night before had turned the steps slick.


    People moved slowly, gripping the handrails.


    Yvaine kept stopping to peer into bushes or poke at wildflowers.


    I kept having to catch up after getting stuck behind tourists in stic ponchos.


    ording to her schedule, we were meant to hit the summit at noon.


    We arrived at one.


    My thighs ached and my trainers were damp.


    I pped the backs of my legs. ¡®Finally.¡¯


    The clouds cleared the second we reached the top.


    The sky shifted from dull grey to a re-bright blue.


    The sun hammered straight down, bouncing off the pale stone beneath our feet.


    A shout cut through the wind. ¡®Yvie!¡¯


    We both turned.


    Cade sprinted straight at Yvaine.


    He stopped a breath away, sweaty and panting. ¡®I made it.¡¯


    Yvaine blinked at him. ¡®What the hell are you doing here? You¡¯ve got a torn ligament. You¡¯re meant to be in bed.¡¯


    Cade leaned against her shoulder, grinning like a Labrador. ¡®It doesn¡¯t hurt much if you hold me. I just wanted to be here. You mad?¡¯


    She looked both exasperated and amused. ¡®You¡¯re already here. What am I supposed to do, throw you back down the mountain?¡¯


    I nced back at Cassian, who stood rooted to the spot.


    Finally, the shock over, he moved.


    I elbowed Yvaine. ¡®Need me to get rid of him?¡¯


    She nced at Cassian, striding fast up the path. ¡®No, I¡¯ll... I¡¯ll handle him.¡¯


    I moved away from the love triangle and rejoined Ashton. ¡®Come on, let¡¯s check out the bridge.¡¯


    A short walkter, we stopped at Lover¡¯s Span, a wrought-iron walkway stretched across a narrow gorge.


    Every inch of its railings, from the thick handrails to the delicate filigree of the supports, was encrusted with thousands of padlocks.


    They gleamed in the misty sunlight.


    I looked around, found a weathered stall, bought a pair of small, heart-shaped locks.


    Ashton asked after I borrowed a marker from the stall owner, ¡®What was your n if I hadn¡¯te?¡¯


    ¡®Hmm?¡¯ I looked up. ¡®What?¡¯


    ¡®If I hadn¡¯te here with you, would you have bought two locks as well?¡¯ His eyes bore into mine.

 Chapter 231 - 232 The Old Man’s Will

    <h4>Chapter 231: Chapter 232 The Old Man¡¯s Will</h4>


    ¡®Of course not.¡¯ I didn¡¯t need to think before answering.


    If not for Yvaine and her two stalker-like suitors, I wouldn¡¯t havee here at all.


    And... I nced at Ashton, who was treating the simple act of writing down his name on the lock with such grave solemnity, you¡¯d think he was signing a peace treaty.


    I hadn¡¯t said the L-word to him yet, but I didn¡¯t want him thinking his feelings, deeper and clearer than mine, were one-sided or unnoticed.


    We hung the locks on the bridge, threw away the keys, grinned at each other.


    Ashton leaned in.


    I half-closed my eyes, waiting for the kiss.


    ¡®Guys!¡¯


    Ashton sighed.


    I hid a smirk and turned towards the culprit who¡¯d ruined the moment.


    Yvaine walked towards us, hand in hand with Cade.


    I nced behind them.


    Cassian was gone.


    For the next three days, we followed Yvaine¡¯s itinerary to the letter¡ªhot springs, night market,keside shrine, psychic readings.


    Cassian never showed up again.


    ***


    The morning sun poured straight through the studio windows like someone had wiped the whole city clean overnight.


    My post-trip good moodsted until I spotted the mess on the front table.


    Dozens of flower arrangements vied for space.


    The ones on the left had started wilting, their petals shrivelled at the edges, water murky in the ss.


    ¡®Priya, where the hell did all thesee from?¡¯


    She looked up from herptop and spread out both hands. ¡®You missed the circus. Daniel and Rhys have been dropping off bouquets like it¡¯s a contest. One would show up, then half an hourter, the other one would too. I kept telling them you weren¡¯t here, but they wouldn¡¯t stop.¡¯


    I dropped my bag on the bench. ¡®You¡¯re kidding.¡¯


    ¡®Wish I was. I didn¡¯t want them tearing each other apart in here, so I told them I¡¯d hold on to everything until you got back. Didn¡¯t help. Yesterday they ended up fighting, again. Not in the studio this time, though, thank God. They took it to the pavement outside.¡¯


    ¡®Jesus Christ.¡¯


    ¡®Dan¡¯s the one who started it, I think. He hasn¡¯t even recovered from thest round. Probably escaped the hospital just to throw another punch. But now he has to go back to his ward. Rhys didn¡¯t look much better. EMTs had to scrape him off the concrete.¡¯


    I stared at the flowers again and visualised punching both infantile men¡¯s faces until they resembled those wilted petals.


    They were still knee-deep in the inheritance fight.


    Every move was about scoring points.


    Neither one gave a shit about flowers, or me, probably.


    ¡®Chuck them. All of it. Don¡¯t even bring the next batch inside. Just leave a bin by the door.¡¯


    Priya gave me a tight grin. ¡®You got it.¡¯


    I nced around the studio.


    Nothing was broken.


    No smashed disy cases, no blood on the tile.


    For once, Daniel and Rhys had managed to beat each other senseless without wrecking the ce.


    Maybe that psychic visit actually did something.


    At six, Ashton pulled up outside.


    I climbed in.


    ¡®We¡¯ll stop by the hospital on the way,¡¯ he said.


    ¡®What, are you sick?¡¯ I scanned him from head to toe.


    Everything appeared to be in order.


    ¡®No. It¡¯s Edouard. His lungs are going again. He called the familywyer to the ward, drafting a new will.¡¯


    We reached the private wing in twenty minutes.


    The nurse at reception nodded like she recognised Ashton.


    She probably did.


    Outside the room, I could see through the ss: some man in a grey pinstripe suit stood at the foot of the bed, flipping through paperwork.


    Edouard was upright, awake, alert enough to scowl.


    Ashton watched for a bit, then turned to me. ¡®Give me a moment. I won¡¯t take long.¡¯


    ¡®Okay. Try not to get disowned.¡¯


    He pushed the door open.


    Edouard jolted upright and immediately started choking on his own saliva.


    ¡®You¡ªwhat the hell are you doing here?¡¯


    Ashton strode in ¡®Just checking if you¡¯re still breathing. What, nervous?¡¯


    Edouard red past him, signalling frantically at thewyer with wide eyes and a twitchy neck.


    The guy either didn¡¯t notice or pretended not to.


    Ashton plucked the folder out of thewyer¡¯s hand. ¡®Let me guess. New will? Let¡¯s see how generous you¡¯re feeling today.¡¯


    ¡®Put that down!¡¯ Edouard shouted at thewyer, ¡®Marlow, do something! That¡¯s confidential!¡¯


    Ashton flipped a page. ¡®You know Marlowe¡¯s been working for me this whole time, right?¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯ Edouard¡¯s eyes widened.


    His face dropped a shade.


    The veins along his temple pulsed.


    ¡®That¡¯s not possible. He¡¯s been with me for twenty years. I trusted him...¡¯


    Marlowe¡¯s silence said it all.


    Edouard¡¯s hand twitched, then fell limp beside him.


    He sank against the pillows. ¡®You nned this.¡¯


    ¡®You nned it first.¡¯ Ashton kept flipping pages. ¡®You¡¯ve been hiding half your assets like you thought I wouldn¡¯t notice. The earlier drafts left out most of it. This one¡¯s got the full haul.¡¯


    He turned a page with one hand, held the file up to the light with the other.


    ¡®Property in Nice, a trust in Zurich, equity in half a dozen start-ups. Plus that offshore ount in Belize. Altogether, what¡ªten billion? Maybe more if I get the art appraised.¡¯


    Edouard wheezed. ¡®You used him to get information out of me.¡¯


    ¡®Obviously,¡¯ Ashton said, shrugging. ¡®Took long enough, but you finally showed your hand. Let me guess, you called in thewyer because your lungs feel like shit and you know you¡¯ve run out of time?¡¯


    Edouard grabbed the cane from his bedside, swung it at Ashton¡¯s shoulder, and missed by half a metre.


    It ttered to the floor.


    ¡®You ungrateful bastard. Are you going to change my will?¡¯


    Ashton shut the folder. ¡®I saved LGH from bankruptcy. You handed everything to Reginald and Den, and left me with nothing but yourst name. If you think I¡¯m walking away empty-handed, you¡¯re sicker than I thought.¡¯

 Chapter 232 - 233 The Woman Before Me

    <h4>Chapter 232: Chapter 233 The Woman Before Me</h4>


    Marlowe nced at the door.


    His lips twitched when he saw me pressing my ear against the ss like I was trying to phase through it, but he said nothing.


    ¡®You could¡¯ve waited to screw me over from the grave,¡¯ Ashton said. ¡®But you just had to do it while you¡¯re still breathing. So I figured I¡¯d return the favour. While you can still watch.¡¯


    ¡®What are you doing here? Eavesdropping?¡¯


    The shrill voice snapped my head around.


    Gwendolyn Laurent stood in front of me in a powder-blue coat, eyebrows lifted.


    ¡®What are you doing here?¡¯ she asked again.


    I didn¡¯t bother answering that. ¡®Weren¡¯t you in a hospital bed?¡¯


    Had she been booted out after Ashton froze her cards?


    She folded her arms. ¡®Is that how you greet your mother-inw?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re not Ashton¡¯s mum.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯ve got no manners.¡¯


    ¡®Manners are reserved for those who¡¯ve earned them.¡¯


    She rolled up her sleeves. ¡®Just because Ashton covers for you doesn¡¯t mean I won¡¯t p you straight back into the gutter. You¡¯ve got no idea what I¡¯m capable of.¡¯


    I smiled and stepped in. ¡®Go on, then. Try me. Let¡¯s see what happens.¡¯


    Her nostrils red, but her hands stayed by her sides.


    She knew Ashton wouldn¡¯t hesitate to bury her if sheid a finger on me.


    Still, she couldn¡¯t resist running her mouth.


    ¡®My mistake. I should¡¯ve known better than to expect respect from a woman who sent her own father to prison. Word is, your mother¡¯s disowned you. Apparently, she¡¯d rather cosy up to Catherine, who¡¯s not even her real daughter, than acknowledge you. Makes you wonder, doesn¡¯t it?¡¯


    She reached out, fingers aiming for my cheek. ¡®Other than a pretty face, you¡ªOw!¡¯


    I caught her wrist mid-air and gave it a sharp twist. ¡®Hands off.¡¯


    ¡®Ow¡ªfuck, let go!¡¯ she shrieked. ¡®You¡¯re breaking my wrist!¡¯


    She writhed like a hooked fish, but I didn¡¯t let go.


    Sweat broke across her forehead.


    Only when I felt her arm start to tremble did I ease off.


    She cradled her hand like I¡¯d shot her.


    ¡®I haven¡¯t forgotten that stunt you pulled at Ashton¡¯s birthday,¡¯ I said. ¡®Call this dyed payback.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s on you! You were dumb enough to fall for it.¡¯


    The door behind me slid open.


    Ashton stepped out, took in the scene with one nce, and pulled me to his side.


    ¡®You alright?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah. I¡¯m fine.¡¯


    He looked Gwendolyn over. ¡®What did you do?¡¯


    ¡®I didn¡¯t do anything!¡¯ Her earlier bravado had vanished.


    He turned to me. ¡®What were you two talking about?¡¯


    ¡®We were just¡ª¡¯


    ¡®We were just chatting!¡¯ Gwendolyn cut in quickly.


    I watched her scramble to improvise.


    Shetched onto my arm like we were best mates.


    ¡®I was just telling Mirabelle about this amazing new facial ce in Midtown,¡¯ she said, wearing the fakest smile I¡¯d ever seen. ¡®We were bonding. Right, Mirabelle?¡¯


    I gave her a look that made her smile falter, then tossed out a slow, bored ¡®Uh-huh¡¯.


    She exhaled like she¡¯d just dodged a bullet. ¡®See? We were chatting. That¡¯s all.¡¯


    Ashton eyed her sceptically. ¡®Don¡¯t forget what I told youst time.¡¯


    ¡®I haven¡¯t! I swear! I haven¡¯t seen Rowan Hale since that day. I¡¯ve just been going back and forth between home and the hospital. That¡¯s it. Oh, and I¡¯ve been helping Den meet girls. It¡¯s time he settled down. If you two know any decent women, send them his way.¡¯


    She rattled on like volume alone would make her sound innocent.


    Ashton didn¡¯t respond, just stared until her voice faded to a whisper.


    ¡®I¡¯ll, uh, I¡¯ll go check on your grandfather.¡¯


    She scuttled off.


    Ashtonced his fingers through mine. ¡®She really didn¡¯t touch you?¡¯


    ¡®Nope. She knows better. She ran her mouth, but that¡¯s all.¡¯


    ***


    After dinner, I curled up in bed with my phone.


    Tax season wasing up, which meant Ashton was drowning in work.


    He¡¯d just got back from Elmridge, and his to-do list was already a mile long.


    At ten, he was still locked in the study, pacing through yet another call.


    I killed time scrolling through short videos until my eyelids started to droop.


    I was about to plug in my charger and knock out when a message lit up the screen.


    Daniel: [You back in Skyline? Did you see the flowers I sent? I¡¯m in the hospital...]


    Three photos followed.


    Sterile walls, an IV stand, and a sad-looking tray of soup.


    I backed out of the chat.


    He¡¯d been texting for days.


    I hadn¡¯t replied to a single one.


    But tonight, he wasn¡¯t letting up.


    Daniel: [Rhys hasn¡¯t even divorced Catherine yet and he¡¯s already sniffing around you. Don¡¯t worry, I handled it. I punched him for you. He¡¯s in the room next to mine. Worse shape than I am.]


    My thumb hovered over the block button.


    Then came one more message.


    Daniel: [Ashton¡¯s not in love with you. He married you for a reason. You just haven¡¯t figured it out yet. He¡¯s been in love with someone else for years.]


    My finger jerked.


    I already knew there was someone before me, someone who¡¯d vanished from Ashton¡¯s life.


    For a while, I¡¯d thought it was Rowan Hale.


    That theory fell apart weeks ago, and I¡¯d filed the whole thing away.


    But that didn¡¯t mean such a woman didn¡¯t exist.


    I¡¯d never doubted Ashton wanted me, not with the way he looked at me, touched me, talked to me.


    But the idea that someone else still lived somewhere behind all that, someone he couldn¡¯t let go of, scratched under my skin.


    I waited.


    Nothing else came through.


    I typed back slowly.


    Me: [How do you know that?]


    He replied in seconds.


    Daniel: [Doesn¡¯t matter how I know. It¡¯s the truth. I¡¯d never lie to you.]


    Me: [Do you know who she is?]

 Chapter 233 - 234 The Convenient Option

    <h4>Chapter 233: Chapter 234 The Convenient Option</h4>


    Thirty seconds that felt like thirty years passed.


    Daniel: [Not exactly. But she¡¯s in Wessexia. Something artsy. Dance, I think. Ashton never got over her. You were just the convenient option. I also heard she looks a lot like you...]


    I dropped my phone face down on the mattress.


    Heat pressed against the back of my neck.


    My chest felt tight, like I¡¯d swallowed something solid and it refused to go down.


    Daniel: [Everything I said is true. Ask Ashton if you don¡¯t believe me.]


    I did what I should have done a long time ago and blocked his number.


    Of course I knew what he was doing.


    He¡¯d tried every angle to wedge himself between Ashton and me, and now he thought he¡¯d found a winner, stirring up shit about Ashton¡¯s so-called secret love.


    I wasn¡¯t buying it.


    Okay, maybe halfway, but not more than that.


    If Ashton really was carrying a torch for someone, I didn¡¯t need it spoon-fed through Daniel¡¯s rubbish texts.


    I could ask him directly, face to face.


    I kept themp on and forced myself to stay awake.


    Ten turned to eleven, and still no sign of him.


    I curled up with my phone and drifted off waiting.


    I didn¡¯t know how long I¡¯d been out.


    My eyes stayed shut, but the rustle of the sheets pulled me halfway back.


    Ashton slipped into bed quietly.


    His chest was warm against my back.


    I slid closer, barely conscious, dragging the nket up to my chin.


    There was something I¡¯d meant to ask, something important, but it hovered just out of reach.


    He brushed his mouth over the corner of mine.


    I mumbled something that didn¡¯t make sense.


    ¡®Go back to sleep,¡¯ he whispered.


    I did.


    When I opened my eyes, sunlight had already bled through the curtains.


    His side of the bed was cold.


    I sat up slowly, eyes gritty, brain still not fully switched on.


    Last night¡¯s messages came flooding back like a p to the face.


    I still hadn¡¯t asked Ashton about the woman, the one Daniel couldn¡¯t shut up about.


    But after a full night¡¯s sleep, it didn¡¯t feel quite so urgent.


    I¡¯d ask when Ashton actually had five minutes to spare, and when I wasn¡¯t half-dead from waiting.


    I¡¯d barely reached the bottom of the stairs when Yvaine¡¯s name popped up on my screen.


    ¡®Movie?¡¯ she said the moment I answered. ¡®No excuses. You¡¯reing. We hit the mall first, then dinner after. There¡¯s a new sushi ce on Fifth. Supposed to be decent.¡¯


    ¡®Sure,¡¯ I said. ¡®I¡¯ve got nothing going on. Want to grab lunch first?¡¯


    She let out a long, irritated breath. ¡®Can¡¯t. I¡¯ve got a blind date at noon.¡¯


    ¡®A what?¡¯ I nearly missed a step. ¡®You¡¯re going on a blind date? Did you and Cade break up?¡¯


    ¡®No. But I¡¯m not marrying the guy. My parents don¡¯t even know he exists. If they did, they¡¯d lose their minds.¡¯


    Thinking back to my own first impression of Cade, I could sort of understand where her parents wereing from.


    ¡®I couldn¡¯t get out of it,¡¯ she said. ¡®They¡¯ve been pushing for weeks. I said yes just to shut them up. I¡¯ll smile, nod, and be out before dessert.¡¯


    Something clicked. ¡®Wait. Your blind date wouldn¡¯t happen to be a guy named Den, would it?¡¯


    ¡®Might be?¡¯ she saidzily. ¡®Didn¡¯t catch the name. I was just told to dress nice and show up on time.¡¯


    ¡®Wow,¡¯ I muttered, shaking my head. ¡®Skyline really is tiny. Den¡¯s Ashton¡¯s younger brother.¡¯ Half-brother, technically.


    ¡®Wait, what? Huh. That exins why my mum kept going on about him being from ¡°a good family¡±. She made it sound like he shits gold. Is he... normal?¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s alright. Bit of a thrill-seeker. Ashton says he¡¯s obsessed with motorbikestely.¡¯


    Yvaine snorted. ¡®Perfect. If he¡¯s just here to tick the box too, we¡¯re golden. I¡¯ll eat fast and get out. Meet you at the mall after?¡¯


    ¡®Yep.¡¯


    I left the house at one, got to our meeting spot on time, and waited.


    Ten minutes passed.


    Then twenty.


    I called her twice.


    No answer.


    The film was about to start when I finally saw her.


    She was dragging her feet across the pavement, shoulders slumped like a wilted flower.


    I marched over. ¡®You look like you got mugged. What happened?¡¯


    She flopped down onto the bench beside me and let out a long sigh. ¡®I should¡¯ve stayed home. Lunch with Den turned into a bloody disaster.¡¯


    ¡®Spill.¡¯


    ¡®We were getting along fine. He¡¯sid-back, didn¡¯t ask anything weird, mostly joked about how forced the whole thing was. Then Cassian showed up.¡¯


    ¡®Seriously?¡¯ I¡¯d have thought he¡¯d backed off after seeing how close Yvaine was with Cade on the Elmridge trip.


    ¡®He was sitting two tables away. He overheard my name, wandered over uninvited, then started mouthing off at Den.¡¯


    ¡®What¡¯d he say?¡¯


    ¡®That Den¡¯s useless, doesn¡¯t have a job, lives off Ashton¡¯s leftovers, has no direction in life, and isn¡¯t good enough for a Carlisle. He said it all right to his face. Loudly.¡¯


    ¡®Bloody hell.¡¯


    ¡®I told him, ¡°He might be reckless, but at least he¡¯s not cheating on anyone behind their back.¡±¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s a solid line.¡¯ I could just picture Cassian¡¯s face turning beet red.


    ¡®Guess who walked in just then? Cade.¡¯


    ¡®Oh no.¡¯


    ¡®He saw us, lost it. He thought I¡¯d gone there to meet Cassian. He was two seconds away from decking him. I had to physically shove them apart.¡¯


    ¡®What did you tell him?¡¯


    ¡®Didn¡¯t get the chance. He was shouting in front of everyone. used me of stringing him along. Said I never really wanted anything serious. Then he stormed off. Didn¡¯t even look back.¡¯


    She exhaled through her nose, eyes on the floor. ¡®I should¡¯ve stayed home and eaten bloody instant noodles.¡¯


    ¡®Are you gonna break up with him?¡¯

 Chapter 234 - 235 Critical Condition

    <h4>Chapter 234: Chapter 235 Critical Condition</h4>


    She didn¡¯t answer straight away.


    Her shoulders hunched slightly, like she¡¯d been carrying too many bags too long.


    ¡®I don¡¯t know. Ever since Elmridge, he¡¯s had this thing in his head about me and Cassian. I exined it a hundred times, but it stuck. He doesn¡¯t trust me. Today just tipped him over.¡¯


    Yvaine sighed again, louder this time. ¡®I¡¯m such a mess right now. I¡¯ve got no clue what I¡¯m doing. I look at you and Ashton, and it just seems so easy. You two are all wrapped up in each other without all this drama.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t respond.


    Because all she saw was the polished surface.


    Ashton and I weren¡¯t simple, not even close.


    There was still that woman, the one who came before me, still lingering in his past like a smudge I couldn¡¯t scrub off.


    I needed answers. Tonight, if I could actually get a moment alone with him.


    But for the next few days, he was buried at work, barely sleeping.


    Every night, I went to bed alone.


    Every morning, I woke up to an empty house.


    We weren¡¯t in the same room for more than ten seconds with both awake.


    ***


    Most of the house staff were off for Presidents¡¯ Day.


    Only Geoffrey and Carmen stayed behind.


    I lingered in the sunroom, scrolling through ring settings on my tablet and pretending not to notice the time until my stomach startedining.


    As soon as we sat down for lunch, Ashton¡¯s phone rang.


    He answered with one hand still on his fork, but the moment he heard the voice on the other end, his whole expression changed.


    ¡®What happened?¡¯ I asked the moment he hung up.


    ¡®The hospital. It¡¯s Edouard. They don¡¯t think he¡¯ll make it through the night. Everyone¡¯s already on their way.¡¯


    I dropped my spoon. ¡®Then let¡¯s go. Now.¡¯


    I pushed back from the table and ran upstairs to change.


    We didn¡¯t speak in the car, just stared through the windscreen while traffic crawled along like msses.


    The roads were jammed, every junction gridlocked.


    Ashton¡¯s hands gripped the wheel at ten and two, his face set in granite.


    It took us an hour to cover what usually took twenty minutes.


    The lift opened onto a racket: heels clicking, people talking over each other, perfume shing with the sharp tang of antiseptic.


    The moment Ashton stepped out, the noise dipped.


    He walked straight past the crowd.


    ¡®Ashton! Finally.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s bad. Real bad.¡¯


    ¡®No one expected this. On Presidents¡¯ Day, of all days...¡¯


    He ignored them, pushed through the corridor and disappeared into the ward.


    I stayed outside.


    Through the ss, I saw two nurses and a doctor clustered around the bed, working fast.


    Wires dangled off machines, lights shing red.


    Ashton stood to the side, arms folded, silent.


    I moved to a quiet corner near the drinks machine.


    Everyone else jostled by the door, craning their necks, muttering and pacing, their mouths drawn tight.


    ¡®Ashton¡¯ste. Edouard¡¯s barely hanging on, and he strolls in like it¡¯s nothing. Arrogant little prick.¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s never cared. Everyone knows they barely spoke. Probably counting down to the inheritance.¡¯


    I could¡¯ve ignored it; should¡¯ve.


    But they brought up Ashton, and that was enough.


    I pushed off the wall, walked straight over, and nted myself between them.


    ¡®What, you think standing here talking rubbish makes you helpful? You gonna scrub in? Start CPR through the ss? Half of you didn¡¯t even know Edouard¡¯s birthday until the invites went out, but look at you now. All lined up like it¡¯s a damn family portrait.¡¯


    Silence hit hard.


    All eyes turned to me.


    The man who¡¯d been doing most of the talking, mid-fifties, thinning hair, too much gel, gave me the once-over like I¡¯d wandered in by mistake.


    ¡®Who the hell are you?¡¯


    I threw it right back at him. ¡®Who the hell are you, acting like you¡¯ve got the right to talk rubbish about Ashton?¡¯


    He flinched like I¡¯d smacked him. ¡®You¡¯ve got some nerve, young woman.¡¯


    Someone off to the side muttered, ¡®That¡¯s Ashton¡¯s wife. They came up together. You didn¡¯t see?¡¯


    His eyes narrowed.


    He looked again, slower this time, but no less condescending.


    ¡®So what? My uncle is Edouard¡¯s cousin-inw. That makes me your senior. You don¡¯t get a say here.¡¯


    ¡®That makes you a what, a fifth cousin twice removed? That¡¯s not even blood. I¡¯m pretty good with faces, and I don¡¯t recall you showing up at Edouard¡¯s birthday party. But now you¡¯re here, front row. You care about his health?¡¯ I sneered. ¡®Or just his wealth?¡¯


    His face turned pink.


    ¡®He¡¯s sick because of the way you lot treated him. You and your husband Ashton have been negligent. If I¡¯d known it was this serious, I¡¯d have taken care of poor old Edouard myself.¡¯


    ¡®Would you? Are you saying that you¡¯d look after him better than his own sons and grandsons, and that earns you a better spot in the will?¡¯


    He said nothing.


    No one else did either.


    Gwendolyn finally stepped in once she realised the man wasn¡¯t going to take me down a peg like she¡¯d hoped.


    ¡®Let¡¯s all take a breath. Edouard¡¯s still in critical care. Everyone¡¯s anxious, I get it, but let¡¯s not turn the corridor into a circus.¡¯


    People went quiet.


    As Edouard¡¯s daughter-inw, she had enough pull to make that happen.


    No one challenged her.


    They just shifted ufortably and went back to peering through the ss panel in the ICU door.


    I could see it in their faces, the quick mental calctions.


    How much they¡¯d get.


    Whether Edouard would make it through the night.


    Who he¡¯d leave the estate to.


    Who he wouldn¡¯t.


    The lift dinged.


    Marlowe stepped out, alone.


    Someone near the front pointed. ¡®Is that Ed¡¯swyer?¡¯


    A woman in pearls elbowed forward. ¡®Is the will done? Do you have it with you?¡¯


    Another man shoved in, eyeing the briefcase. ¡®Can you just tell us what it says? Just a rough idea?¡¯

 Chapter 235 - 236 Last Words

    <h4>Chapter 235: Chapter 236 Last Words</h4>


    Marlowe was almost knocked straight back into the lift.


    If one more person lunged, he¡¯d end up ttened against the wall.


    I cleared my throat loudly.


    ¡®You lot see a briefcase and start crawling like cockroaches on a dropped croissant. Did any of you even ask how Edouard is doing? Or are you all just here to count zeroes?¡¯


    The front row shuffled backwards.


    A man in a beige trench coat blinked, nced at his shoes. ¡®Of course we care. He¡¯s family.¡¯


    The ICU door clicked open.


    Ashton stood in the doorway.


    ¡®Come in.¡¯


    It was like he¡¯d fired the starting pistol at a race.


    Everyone surged forward.


    A man elbowed past a woman in a tweed jacket.


    Someone¡¯s handbag caught on the IV pole.


    Edouardy still beneath the ceiling light, chest rising in fits and starts.


    A venttor mask covered his nose and mouth.


    Tubes ran down both arms, taped tight against his skin.


    Two doctors stood at the head of the bed, nked by three nurses.


    One adjusted the beeping monitor, which clicked in a slow, rhythmic pattern.


    I leaned close to Ashton. ¡®How bad?¡¯


    He gave a slight shake of the head.


    The room filled, wall to wall.


    No one spoke until one of the doctors cleared his throat and turned.


    ¡®He¡¯s critical. Any moment now. Say what you need to.¡¯


    Thatnded like a dropped brick.


    A few people blinked hard.


    A woman near the back gave a choked gasp.


    ¡®That can¡¯t be right. He was walkingst month.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t go now, Edouard. The family needs you.¡¯


    Someone sniffled.


    Then another.


    Soon, a soft wave of crying spread across the room.


    But the tears didn¡¯tst five minutes.


    A man leaned in close to Marlowe and muttered, ¡®We should probably start talking arrangements.¡¯


    Another voice picked it up. ¡®Exactly. Did he even leave a will?¡¯


    The mood shifted.


    Crying stopped. Elbows came out.


    Marlowe didn¡¯t answer.


    Edouard¡¯s eyelids fluttered.


    His eyes opened slowly.


    He had yellowed whites and pupils like pinpricks.


    His gaze drifted across the room, dull and cloudy, settling on each face in turn.


    His hand lifted, barely.


    It trembled mid-air before pointing, unsteadily, straight at Ashton.


    There was hatred in that look. Pure, solid resentment.


    His lips moved, but no sound came.


    Ashton stepped forward. ¡®Looks like he wants me to read the will.¡¯


    Edouard¡¯s mouth twitched, maybe trying to form the word ¡®no¡¯.


    Nobody paid him any mind.


    They were already murmuring.


    ¡®Just let Ashton read it. Come on, he¡¯s barely hanging on.¡¯


    ¡®Stop wasting time.¡¯


    Ashton tipped his chin at Marlowe.


    Thewyer nodded, stepped past two people, and pulled a thick bundle of papers from his briefcase.


    Ashton took them.


    The room hushed instantly.


    Even the monitors seemed to pause.


    ¡®The will begins with an inventory of assets. Liquid funds: five hundred million. Property and other holdings: close to eight hundred million.¡¯


    Someone sucked in a breath behind me.


    Gwendolyn¡¯s eyes bulged.


    Ashton kept going. ¡®All LGH shares to be transferred to Ashton Laurent.¡¯


    He paused, brows raised slightly. ¡®You¡¯re giving me everything?¡¯


    Edouard¡¯s eyes went wide.


    His brow tensed. A vein popped above his temple.


    He shoved against the mattress, trying to lift his chest.


    His shoulders rose half an inch before slumping back down.


    The monitor picked up pace.


    Ashton met his gaze and held it. ¡®Well. Thank you, Grandfather.¡¯


    Edouard let out a hoarse, broken sound.


    His fingers twitched, then stilled.


    The voices around me blurred into a swarm of whispers.


    ¡®Why the hell would he leave everything to Ashton?¡¯


    ¡®They weren¡¯t even close. Not like that.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s not like he needs the shares. Ashton¡¯s been running LGH for years anyway.¡¯


    ¡®No one¡¯s kicking him off the CEO post, with or without this.¡¯


    ¡®Forget thepany. What about the rest of the money? Let¡¯s get to that!¡¯


    Ashton waited until the noise ebbed before speaking again.


    ¡®Grandfather instructed that all his property be liquidated, converted into cash.¡¯


    He paused.


    ¡®He wanted it split evenly. One million to each family member.¡¯


    Silence dropped like a rock.


    Then, behind someone¡¯s shoulder: ¡®That can¡¯t be right.¡¯


    ¡®One million? Out of billions?¡¯


    ¡®There¡¯s no way. Ashton, are you sure you read that properly?¡¯


    Ashton held up the sheaf of papers. ¡®Positive. It¡¯s right here in ck and white. The will was notarised. And the one who drafted the will is standing right here.¡¯


    Marlowe stepped forward on cue. ¡®The instructions were clear. That¡¯s the allocation.¡¯


    Someone raised their voice. ¡®What about the rest? Even after giving one million each, there¡¯s still a huge chunk left. Where¡¯s the rest of the money?¡¯


    Ashton said, ¡®Donated. All of it. To charity.¡¯


    The silence this time was much longer, heavier.


    Gwendolyn broke it with a shriek. ¡®He wouldn¡¯t leave us with nothing! Edouard wouldn¡¯t do that!¡¯


    A woman near her agreed. ¡®One million¡¯s pathetic. He might as well have given us a bloody coupon.¡¯


    A man shrugged. ¡®Hell, I¡¯ll take it. You don¡¯t want your share, hand it over.¡¯


    It escted fast.


    Dozens of voices talked over each other, some shouting.


    A man near the window jabbed a finger at another¡¯s chest.


    Two cousins I didn¡¯t recognise started bickering about who counted as closer blood.


    A few of the out-of-towners stood off to the side, clinging to their phones, grinning like they¡¯d just won a scratch card.


    Ashton let them go on for a minute, then raised his voice.


    ¡®Enough! This is a hospital, not a bar room. What¡¯s written stands. No amount of bitching is going to change that.¡¯

 Chapter 236 - 237 Last Mistake

    <h4>Chapter 236: Chapter 237 Last Mistake</h4>


    The noise faded.


    One man in a corduroy zer made a loud scoff and stormed out.


    ¡®What a waste of a day,¡¯ someone muttered behind him. ¡®Could¡¯ve stayed home.¡¯


    ¡®Let¡¯s go. This was a bust.¡¯


    People began trickling out.


    Handbags snapped shut. Suit jackets were yanked from chairs.


    Within minutes, the room was cleared, with just me and Ashton left.


    Gwendolyn hesitated in the doorway, shot Ashton a poisonous look, then stomped off.


    Ashton stepped slowly towards the bed.


    He leaned over the old man¡¯s face.


    ¡®They¡¯re gone. Everyst one of them. Not a single person in this room gave a damn about you. They only turned up to collect. The moment they realised they weren¡¯t getting what they came for, they fled. Probably whining about bad luck the whole way to the car.¡¯


    Edouard¡¯s eyelids struggled open.


    His pupils locked on Ashton, wide and zing with fury.


    ¡®You... you changed my... my will...¡¯


    The words scraped out like broken ss.


    His chest rose in short, jagged bursts.


    Ashton looked down at him like the man was already a ghost.


    ¡®You spent your life betting on the wrong people. You chose Gwendolyn over my mother. You helped push her towards her death, and thought I¡¯d never find out. You were wrong. You picked Den over me, shipped me overseas and hoped I¡¯d get myself killed. Wrong again. You hid your diagnosis and made backroom deals with awyer you assumed was on your side. That was yourst mistake.¡¯


    He turned and reached for my hand.


    We left without looking back.


    Just as the door slid shut, the heart monitor let out a shrill, t line.


    When we reached the car, Ashton opened the passenger door for me, then slid into the driver¡¯s seat.


    He didn¡¯t start the engine.


    The light inside the car was dim, tinted grey-blue from the hospital¡¯s neon signage.


    Ashton stared through the windscreen, hands resting motionless on the wheel.


    I watched him from the side.


    There was no grief in his face, only tension.


    His forehead creased, lips pressed into a hard line.


    He looked wrecked. Mentally spent, physically drained, stuck somewhere between rage and bone-deep fatigue.


    I reached across the console and took his hand.


    His skin felt cool, the bones sharp beneath my fingers.


    I traced my thumb over the ridge of his knuckle.


    ¡®It¡¯s over.¡¯


    He gave a single nod.


    His head dropped back against the seat.


    Then he turned his palm and curled his fingers around mine.


    After a while, his voice broke the stillness. ¡®Come here.¡¯


    I slid across the seat and wrapped both arms around his waist.


    He folded around me instantly, like he¡¯d been waiting.


    His arms locked across my back, one hand threading into my hair.


    His body was solid and warm, steady as ever.


    But I knew even he needed to be held sometimes.


    Silence settled over us like a second skin.


    I could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his body soaking through my jacket.


    Outside, colour red.


    I lifted my head.


    A burst of fireworks exploded across the sky beyond the windscreen.


    One after another, they lit up the skyline in shes of gold, silver and deep crimson.


    The car filled with fractured, dancing light.


    I turned back to Ashton.


    His face was inches from mine, clearly lit now in the shifting glow.


    The set of his mouth had softened.


    His eyes weren¡¯t hard anymore.


    I leaned in and kissed him.


    ¡®You still have me.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah. I do.¡¯


    He cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing just below my eye.


    When he leaned forward again, I met him halfway.


    An hourter, we were home, in the bedroom.


    His jacket hit the floor first, then mine.


    His shirt came off next.


    I helped speed up the process by ripping off a button or two.


    My palms skimmed his chest, warm and lean beneath my touch, skin stretched tight over muscle.


    He unzipped my dress.


    The sound was soft, nearly drowned out by the patter of light outside.


    His lips trailed along my throat, my corbone, the curve of my shoulder.


    My skin prickled as he moved lower, tasting, kissing, breathing me in like he couldn¡¯t get enough.


    The room was warm and dark, full of breath and skin and rustling fabric.


    I pulled him down with me onto the mattress.


    His hands slid down my hips, fingertips tracing along the inside of my thighs.


    I arched beneath him.


    He held me still, then lowered his mouth.


    Everything narrowed.


    Sensation, sound, time, all of it vanished.


    There was only the heat of him, the rhythm, the unrelenting pressure.


    My nails dug into his back.


    He grunted when I pulled him closer, deeper.


    His breath stuttered when I whispered his name against his throat.


    We moved together.


    We came together.


    And he never once let me go.


    I woke sometimeter with an ache in my lower back and the faint scent of sweat and skin clinging to the air.


    My head rested on Ashton¡¯s chest.


    His hand was curled loosely around my waist.


    Everything from the night before came rushing back: the look in his eyes, the weight of his body over mine, the way he¡¯d said my name just before the end.


    Suddenly, the questions about that woman from his past felt pointless, childish.


    Whatever she¡¯d meant to him, it had nothing to do with what he and I had now.


    I slipped out from under his arm and reached for my phone on the floor.


    It was eleven.


    I had fifteen notifications: a mix of emojis, bad Presidents¡¯ Day memes, one blurry photo of a roast chicken on someone¡¯s dining table.


    At the bottom was a message from Priya.


    [Happy Presidents¡¯ Day, Mira! I¡¯ve saved up enough! This is the $30k you and Ashton lent me. Finally paying it back :-) Also, I found a new ce, closer to the studio, nice area, only $3k a month. I¡¯m moving out of Oakwood. Thank you for everything. Love you.]

 Chapter 237 - 238 Irresistible Offer

    <h4>Chapter 237: Chapter 238 Irresistible Offer</h4>


    I smiled and typed back: [No rush on the money. If you pay me now, you¡¯ll be broke again, won¡¯t you?]


    Priya replied straightaway: [Come on, Mira. You¡¯re paying me a proper sry now, plus that fat year-end bonus. I¡¯ve got plenty left, even after this.]


    I hit ¡®ept¡¯.


    The moneynded in my ount a secondter.


    I typed: [Your parents haven¡¯t been bothering you, have they?]


    Priya: [Nope. Not a word. I think they¡¯ve wiped me off the family tree. Suits me fine. I¡¯m staying here, where they can¡¯t marry me off to some rich old guy just to cash out.]


    She kept going, message after message.


    I read every word.


    She¡¯d wed her way out of that backwater town.


    Now she had a t, a job, a clean te.


    I was happy for her.


    She sent me pictures of a stray cat she¡¯d adopted off the street.


    I stayed propped against the headboard, flicking through them with a grin.


    Then I opened Yvaine¡¯s chat.


    I started typing, pausing to check Ashton beside me.


    He hadn¡¯t stirred.


    His mouth hung slightly open, one arm curled under the pillow, the other across my side of the bed.


    His breathing was slow and steady.


    It was probably the first proper sleep he¡¯d had in days.


    I hit mute on my phone and tucked it under my leg.


    Yvaine had just replied when a call screen shed across the top of the chat.


    The number wasn¡¯t saved, but I recognised it.


    I slipped out of bed slowly, careful to keep my weight off the floorboard in case it creaked.


    I padded across the carpet into the bathroom before swiping ¡®answer¡¯.


    A man¡¯s voice, low and polished: ¡®Miss Vance. Hope I¡¯m not interrupting.¡¯


    I paused, trying to ce it.


    Then it clicked.


    ¡®Mr Marchetti?¡¯


    Fabrizio Marchetti, CEO of Valmont & Cie.


    I¡¯d met him once at an exhibition in Sunset City, where he¡¯d asked for my number.


    At the time, I hadn¡¯t taken his offer seriously.


    Besides, I wasn¡¯t about to move to France.


    He let out a smooth, apologeticugh. ¡®I know it¡¯s a holiday on your end. Thought today might give me a better shot at catching you.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ve got time,¡¯ I said.


    ¡®I¡¯ve been waiting for your call since we met. You never got in touch, so I assumed I¡¯d been forgotten. Still, I want to ask again. Would you be open to working together?¡¯


    ¡®Um, about that, thank you for¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t say no just yet,¡¯ he cut in, voice silk-slick. ¡®I¡¯m offering thirty per cent. Full creative partnership. You wouldn¡¯t be working under me, but with me. It¡¯s not just a job, and there¡¯s no need to relocate. I¡¯d love for you to visit the Paris office, just to get a feel for it. If frequent travel¡¯s off the table, we¡¯ll coordinate remotely. You stay in Skyline, we work by email, calls, whatever suits you.¡¯


    Damn it, I was tempted.


    This could actually work.


    Valmont & Cie wasn¡¯t just some fancy Parisianbel.


    They were THE name.


    A joint release with them would be everywhere¡ªshowrooms, magazine covers, airport disys, the works.


    If it took off, I¡¯d stop being that girl with a few decentmissions and start being a name people actually said out loud.


    I hadn¡¯t even answered when Fabrizio sighed into the phone.


    ¡®I didn¡¯t mean to talk shop on your day off, but we¡¯ve got an autumnunch on the calendar and none of the concepts my teams submitted are usable. We¡¯re running out of time and I still don¡¯t have a clear direction. Miss Vance, let me send over the roughs. Just take a look?¡¯


    ¡®Alright,¡¯ I said. ¡®Send them.¡¯


    He¡¯d just offered to show me their internal designs.


    That was trust.


    The second we hung up, files begannding in my inbox.


    I tapped the first one open, barely skimmed the header¡ª


    A voice behind me, low and hoarse, broke in.


    ¡®You hiding in the bathroom to flirt with someone?¡¯


    I turned.


    Ashton was still half-buried in the sheets, lying exactly where I¡¯d left him.


    He sat up and dragged a hand through his hair.


    ¡®Sounded like a man. Who was it?¡¯


    I walked back over.


    ¡®I didn¡¯t want to wake you. It was Fabrizio Marchetti, CEO of Valmont & Cie. Work call.¡¯


    ¡®Fabrizio Marchetti? That fossil? What the hell¡¯s he calling you for at seven in the morning? Block him.¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s not that old, and it¡¯s not seven in the morning.¡¯ I gave him a t look. ¡®You think every man on the¡¯s got a hard-on for me?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re my wife. Seems like a logical assumption.¡¯


    I reached the edge of the bed.


    His arm shot out from under the duvet and yanked me forward.


    I lost bnce andnded right on top of him, the quilt bunched up between us.


    ¡®I¡¯m married to the best woman alive. You expect me not to be paranoid?¡¯


    I smacked his chest. ¡®You¡¯repletely unhinged.¡¯


    ¡®What did he want?¡¯


    ¡®Wants tounch his autumn collection with me. Sounds serious. The profit split¡¯s actually decent.¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s trying to talk you into moving to France.¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s not. Even if I go, I¡¯m not relocating. You think it¡¯s a bad idea?¡¯


    ¡®Did you already say yes?¡¯


    ¡®Not yet. But I want to.¡¯ I lifted my head and looked down at him. ¡®Problem?¡¯


    He fell into a thoughtful silence.


    Then said, ¡®If you want to go, go. It¡¯s your work. I don¡¯t have a say. You¡¯re ridiculously talented. You deserve a bigger tform.¡¯


    He said all the right things, but theynded stiff and t, like he was reciting lines from a script he didn¡¯t believe in.


    He pulled me in tighter.


    His breath warmed the back of my neck.


    ¡®One thing, though. If you go to France, I¡¯ming with you.¡¯

 Chapter 238 - 239 His Proposal

    <h4>Chapter 238: Chapter 239 His Proposal</h4>


    I frowned. ¡®Who brings their husband to work?¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t think of me as your husband. Think of me as your assistant.¡¯


    I considered it. ¡®Fine.¡¯


    He kicked the covers up and dragged them over both of us. ¡®Come back to bed, it¡¯s still early.¡¯


    I tucked myself against his chest, curled into the space under his chin.


    I hadn¡¯t even shut my eyes when I felt his hand sliding down my back.


    The nap never happened.


    It was as if Ashton had just discovered that stamina was apetitive sport and I was the trophy.


    Soon, I was sore everywhere, and my spine had melted into the mattress.


    Then he started again.


    I wed at his chest, eyes blurred. ¡®I can¡¯t. Ashton, please¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Okay,¡¯ he muttered, but his pace didn¡¯t slow. At all.


    By the time he stopped, I couldn¡¯t tell if I was breathing or hallucinating.


    Everything buzzed.


    My braingged behind my body like it needed a reboot.


    I was barely conscious when I felt him take my hand.


    I blinked blearily and watched him slip my ring off.


    In his other hand was another ring, one I hadn¡¯t seen before.


    My head cleared just enough to choke out: ¡®What are you doing?¡¯


    ¡®The first one was custom, but it was rushed.¡¯ He held the new ring higher. ¡®This one¡¯s from the same designer, but done with more time and thought. I wanted it right.¡¯


    The band was tinum, narrow, clean-lined.


    A row of tiny diamonds circled it, sharp and bright.


    The centre stone was round,rger, set low.


    Light scattered across the duvet in narrow streaks, blinking off the wall.


    My eyes stung, from the light and from the tears.


    My throat tightened. ¡®Why?¡¯


    He was half-kneeling in front of the bed. ¡®Because I want to ask you properly this time. Will you marry me?¡¯


    My fingers clenched the duvet. ¡®So this is... a proposal?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah.¡¯


    ¡®We¡¯re already married.¡¯


    ¡®That wasn¡¯t real. You had your reasons. So did I. But none of it was clean. I want to fix it. You never got a real proposal. Or a wedding. You deserve both. So...¡¯ He looked into my eyes. ¡®Will you?¡¯


    He stayed there, holding the ring up like a reverent offering.


    My vision blurred.


    I reached up and brushed my fingertips against the edge of the band.


    Then my hand jerked back and I shoved it under the covers.


    His brow pulled tight. ¡®What¡¯s wrong?¡¯


    I rubbed the spot where the ring had touched. ¡®We need to talk.¡¯


    It sounded ominous, even to my own ears.


    ¡®What is it?¡¯ Ashton¡¯s expression told me he felt the same way.


    I hesitated, lips dry. ¡®There was a woman, someone who.... You¡¯ve been in love with her for a long time, haven¡¯t you? It was before you came back to Skyline.¡¯


    The second I said it, I felt both lighter and heavier.


    Finally, I¡¯d gotten it off my chest.


    But saying it out loud didn¡¯t make it better.


    It made it worse.


    A wistful look came into Ashton¡¯s eyes.


    It softened all his facial features.


    His eyes crinkled with a genuine smile, like whatever he was thinking of had brought him real joy.


    And it brought me real pain.


    The nod he gave was without hesitation. ¡®Yeah.¡¯


    I¡¯d prepared myself.


    Still, it felt like I¡¯d been kicked in the ribs.


    I forced my expression steady. ¡®What¡¯s she like?¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯s¡ª¡¯ He paused.


    The look he gave me was surprise mixed with confusion, like he didn¡¯t understand why I would ask that.


    He swallowed whatever he was about to say and instead asked, ¡®What do you think she¡¯s like?¡¯


    Why would he ask me that?


    The man had just proposed to me less than two minutes ago, and now he didn¡¯t even look the slightest bit embarrassed talking about his ex-me.


    Was he that thick-skinned, or was I missing something?


    I recalled what little intel I¡¯d gathered from Daniel. ¡®She¡¯s a dancer, from Wessexia. Isn¡¯t she?¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯ Ashton shot to his feet.


    The baffled look on his face must have mirrored my own.


    We stared at each other.


    He finally exhaled hard. ¡®Where the hell did you hear that? That¡¯s¡ªJesus, that¡¯s not even close. What dancer? There¡¯s no such person.¡¯


    ¡®There isn¡¯t?¡¯ I blinked. ¡®But... you just admitted there was someone. Someone you¡¯ve been in love with for years. If it¡¯s not the dancer, then who¡ª¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯ He spun around and started pacing.


    It was rare to see him this agitated.


    He paused abruptly in front of me, leaned down close until all I could see was his face.


    ¡®The person I¡¯ve been in love with this whole damn time is you!¡¯


    ¡®Me?¡¯ I searched his eyes, saw nothing but my own reflection and his absolute conviction.


    Now I wanted to pace.


    ¡®I¡¯m not talking about now,¡¯ I said. ¡®I meant before. Before we got married. Before we knew each other.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m talking about before too!¡¯


    ¡®So there was never a dancer in Wessexia?¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯


    ¡®You didn¡¯t marry me because you couldn¡¯t have the woman you actually wanted, and needed a stand-in¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Fuck, no!¡¯ He looked like he was about tobust.


    He spun in another tight circle.


    ¡®Tell me, who told you this? Who made up that bullshit about some dancer? Who is out there writing me a fake love life?¡¯


    Okay, we definitely had our wires crossed.


    ¡®Was it Gwendolyn?¡¯ He fired names off like they were on a hit list. ¡®My father? Geoffrey? Dominic? Yvaine? Rhys? Or was it Cassian?¡¯


    ¡®Calm down,¡¯ I said quickly.


    ¡®It had to be Cassian.¡¯ He yanked his phone off the charger. ¡®He¡¯s the only one who knew how long I¡¯ve felt this way about you. Of course he¡¯d twist it. Typical bloody Langford, inventing some ballerina out of nowhere.¡¯


    ¡®It wasn¡¯t him!¡¯ I lunged up, legs still tangled in the sheets, trying to grab his arm. ¡®Don¡¯t call him. Ashton, don¡¯t¡ª¡¯


    Toote.


    The call connected.

 Chapter 239 - 240 First Meeting

    <h4>Chapter 239: Chapter 240 First Meeting</h4>


    Ashton hit the speaker, breathing hard.


    Cassian¡¯s voice floated outnguidly, like he¡¯d just crawled out of bed. ¡®Ashton. What¡¯s up.¡¯


    ¡®Did you tell my wife I had some other crush before I married her?¡¯


    ¡®What? What are you talking about? When would I have¡ª¡¯ A pause. Cassian sounded more awake now. ¡®Wait. You mean back when you two weren¡¯t married? Yvaine asked me something about your love life. I said you were into someone for years. You didn¡¯t tell me to keep it a secret, so I just said it offhand. Why?¡¯


    ¡®Did you tell her the woman I liked was a dancer?¡¯


    ¡®What dancer?¡¯ Cassian sounded genuinely baffled. ¡®Why would I tell her that? Since when is she a dancer?¡¯


    ¡®So that wasn¡¯t from you?¡¯


    ¡®What wasn¡¯t? What are you talking about? Are you drunk?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not. Are you?¡¯


    ¡®What? No.¡¯


    ¡®Tell me exactly what you told Yvaine.¡¯


    ¡®Just what I said. That you¡¯d been carrying a torch for some woman.¡¯


    ¡®Did you give her a name?¡¯


    ¡®No. Back then, I didn¡¯t know it was Mirabelle.¡¯ Cassian¡¯s voice turned teasing. ¡®If I did, I¡¯d have told Yvaine everything. That you were sniffing around even when Mirabelle was still with Rhys. That you lied about your grandfather dying just to get her to marry you. That you bought the t opposite hers to stalk¡ª¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s enough.¡¯ Ashton cut him off and ended the call in one swipe.


    He turned to face me. ¡®You heard that?¡¯


    I nodded slowly.


    My head felt weirdly light.


    ¡®So you know there was never any dancer. Now can you tell me where the hell that came from?¡¯


    He stepped in close.


    His eyes pinned me in ce.


    I looked away. ¡®Daniel Williams told me. He probably made it up.¡¯


    Ashton swore under his breath. ¡®Of course it was that dickhead. I knew he was up to something.¡¯


    He looked like he was already mapping out which wall to throw Daniel through.


    Before he got there, I said, ¡®So all that crap about marrying to fulfil your grandfather¡¯s dying wish? Your family pressuring you to settle down? That was all a lie?¡¯


    ¡®Yes. I lied. I lied because I wanted you, and I didn¡¯t care how I got you.¡¯


    ¡®But why?¡¯ I stared at him. ¡®Don¡¯t tell me it¡¯s love at first sight. I¡¯m pretty, but I¡¯m not self-deluded enough to think I have that kind of effect on a man. When did we first meet?¡¯


    I tried to trace it, any memory, any flicker of him before all this.


    If he¡¯d really liked me for that long, we had to have crossed paths earlier, way earlier.


    He came to sit on the edge of the bed, holding my hand.


    ¡®Seven years ago. You were still in school, and you went to Florence for a designpetition. I was one of the sponsors. You didn¡¯t notice me. That was the first time. Then again in Eindhoven. You were at uni. I¡¯d been drugged at some shitty hotel bar. You found me, got me to a hospital. When I came to, you were already gone.¡¯


    ¡®That was you?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah. You vanished like it was nothing. Twice. We probably said ten words total, but I remembered all of them.¡¯


    My mind kept rewinding.


    ¡®After that, you know most of it. I returned to Skyline now and then. Saw you with Rhys. You looked happy. I didn¡¯t want to ruin it. So I stayed away. But I still wanted you. Even when I knew I had no right. I wanted to be near you. Own you.¡¯ His voice turned hard. ¡®I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t know how much you¡¯d been through. I should¡¯vee sooner.¡¯


    He pressed his face into my palm.


    My chest started to ache.


    Tears stung my eyes before I even realised.


    He lifted his head after what felt like forever.


    ¡®I¡¯m sorry. I lied. From the start. Even when I moved in next door, I was already nning everything. I bought the t to be near you.¡¯


    I shook my head.


    I managed, barely, through the thickness in my throat: ¡®No. You saved me.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re not angry?¡¯


    I wiped my cheek with the back of my hand. ¡®No. I¡¯m not. Thank you.¡¯


    He held me tight.


    We stayed like that for a while. Long enough that the heat from his skin soaked through the thin cotton of my shirt. Long enough that I forgot how cold the room had felt before.


    Then I broke the silence. ¡®The ring. Are you giving it to me or what?¡¯


    He pulled back fast. ¡®Yes!¡¯


    He lifted his hand.


    The ringy t in his palm.


    A faint dent circled his skin from how hard he¡¯d gripped it.


    He got out of bed, knelt on one knee, looking both impossibly ridiculous in his boxer briefs and iparably handsome.


    ¡®Will you marry me?¡¯


    ¡®Of course yes.¡¯ I held out my hand.


    His fingers trembled too much to get the damn thing on.


    After the third miss, I bent down, curled my hand around his wrist, and guided the ring onto my finger myself.


    ¡®There. Done.¡¯


    Right then, a burst of firecrackers went off outside.


    Probably someone messing around with leftovers from Presidents¡¯ Day.


    I raised my hand.


    Light sliced through the gap in the curtains and caught on the diamond.


    I turned it slightly, watching how it reflected across my skin.


    The tears had dried.


    My mouth tugged into a small curve.


    ¡®It looks good.¡¯


    *** THE END :) ***

 Chapter 240 - 241 Bonus - 1: Paris Trip

    <h4>Chapter 240: Chapter 241 Bonus Chapter 1: Paris Trip</h4>


    The wedding was set for the sixth of June.


    Before that, I wanted to go to France.


    Ashton said he supported it.


    Technically, he did. Out loud.


    But I could tell he hated the idea.


    He looked at me like I¡¯d sprouted wings and flown out of reach, and he didn¡¯t know how to drag me back without crushing something.


    If it weren¡¯t for the time it took to n the damn wedding, he¡¯d have married me the day after Presidents¡¯ Day ended.


    I had to argue him down to June.


    I left for France in early April.


    He meant toe, but work snowballed.


    The n was he¡¯d join me once he dug himself out. If he ever did.


    That morning, he drove me to the airport.


    We pulled up to the kerb and I reached for the handle, but he grabbed my wrist.


    ¡®What¡¯s the rush? You¡¯ve got time.¡¯


    He was stalling. That much was obvious.


    If he had it his way, I¡¯d miss the flight entirely, spend another two days tangled up in his sheets, and he¡¯d shrug it offter like it was all idental.


    His grip on me didn¡¯t loosen.


    He leaned in and kissed me again.


    And again.


    Like he could stockpile the next ten days into one goodbye.


    By the end of it, I couldn¡¯t breathe.


    I leaned back, gasping, neck arched, trying to put some space between us.


    ¡®Stop¡ªJesus¡ªlet me go. I¡¯ll miss the bloody flight.¡¯


    ¡®Still early.¡¯


    ¡®No, it¡¯s not.¡¯ I shoved my phone in his face. ¡®Look. Less than thirty minutes left.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t budge. ¡®Boarding gate¡¯s only a few minutes from here.¡¯


    ¡®There¡¯s still security to get through.¡¯


    Lately, Ashton had be increasingly and uncharacteristically clingy, even throwing in some sulky whining that grated on my nerves.


    I¡¯d expected him not to let me go easily, but this slow-dragging act was a new low.


    I stepped out first and headed to the boot for my bags.


    He hurried after me, gripping my hand with one, dragging my suitcase with the other as we pushed through the airport doors.


    ¡®How long are you nning to stay this time?¡¯ he muttered, clearly annoyed.


    ¡®No idea yet,¡¯ I replied. ¡®I¡¯ve been going back and forth with Fabrizio by phone and email. It¡¯s exhausting. He invited me to visit their HQ. When I get back depends on how fast the new piecese together.¡¯


    ¡®Stay away from him once you¡¯re there. I¡¯lle find you when I get a break.¡¯


    I nced sideways, amusement flickering in my eyes. ¡®Afraid I¡¯ll run off with someone else?¡¯


    ¡®Absolutely.¡¯ Ashton didn¡¯t bother pretending it was a joke. ¡®I need to keep a close eye on you.¡¯


    ¡®Rx,¡¯ I snorted. ¡®Fabrizio¡¯s only interested in work. We¡¯re just colleagues.¡¯


    He squeezed my hand harder. ¡®He¡¯s single and a man. Of course I¡¯m worried.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t you trust me?¡¯ I challenged.


    ¡®I do, but I¡¯m just saying. Watch yourself in France. Don¡¯t overwork. Call me every day...¡¯


    ¡®I know, I know,¡¯ I interrupted, rolling my eyes. ¡®You sound like a parent sending a kid off on their first day at school.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m just worried about you. I should¡¯ve hired you an assistant.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s a business trip, not a bloody solo hike through the Andes. If things go smoothly, I¡¯ll be back in a week. I don¡¯t need a babysitter.¡¯


    We reached the security checkpoint.


    I turned to face him square on. ¡®I know your day¡¯s packed. Go. I¡¯m good.¡¯


    I kissed him onest time before walking away, feeling his eyes on me the entire time.


    My gate was already boarding when I cleared security.


    Once I found my seat, I was about to turn off my phone when a headline popped up.


    Granger Development Group again.


    The boardroom drama had been all over the feedstely¡ªinheritance mess, infighting, whispers of a power grab.


    Apparently, Clive Granger had been sick sincest winter.


    His health tanked, and now he was desperate to hand off thepany.


    Rhys, the eldest, had been in the doghouse since that scandal with Catherine.


    Clive had lost patience with him ages ago.


    Word was, he nned to transfer thirty per cent of thepany to his youngest son instead.


    And the youngest wasn¡¯t wasting time.


    Since resurfacing in January, he¡¯d edged Rhys out of the leadership team project by project, pulling in massive profits from some new pharmaceutical venture.


    I skimmed the article and shut my phone.


    If Daniel and Rhys were busy tearing each other¡¯s throats out, they¡¯d have less time toe sniffing around me.


    Good.


    ***


    Inded in Paris to grey skies and the thick smell of petrol and wet tarmac.


    Fabrizio Marchetti met me right at the gate, sharp suit, perfect tie, not a hair out of ce.


    He took my luggage without asking and led me to a ck car waiting at the kerb.


    He drove me straight to the house he¡¯d arranged.


    It was two storeys, limestone fa?ade, dark green shutters, high hedges on either side.


    Inside, it was quiet, just one housekeeper and the clean scent of lemon polish and baked bread.


    The ce was gorgeous: polished floors, matte ck fixtures, hand-carved wooden beams, soft wool throws folded over te-grey sofas.


    I turned to Fabrizio. ¡®You really thought of everything. Thanks for sorting all this.¡¯


    ¡®Not at all,¡¯ he said smoothly. ¡®You¡¯re here to push the new line forward. You need somewhere that doesn¡¯t mess with your flow.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll keep refining the sketches I sent over. Some of the proportions still feel off¡ª¡¯


    ¡®No shop talk today,¡¯ he interrupted. ¡®Get some rest. I¡¯ll take you to HQ in the morning.¡¯


    ¡®Alright.¡¯


    The next morning, I came downstairs right on time.


    He was already parked outside, leaning against a different ck car.


    I slid into the passenger seat.


    I thanked him, then said, ¡®I looked up the route. I could¡¯ve got there on my own.¡¯


    ¡®My ce is on the way.¡¯


    He pulled into traffic.


    I unlocked my phone and saw a text from Ashton.

 Chapter 241 - 242 Bonus - 2: Jealous

    <h4>Chapter 241: Chapter 242 Bonus Chapter 2: Jealous</h4>


    Ashton: [Meetings all day. Exhausted.]


    Skyline would¡¯ve beente afternoon by now.


    If he was still stuck in boardrooms, he wasn¡¯t exaggerating.


    I replied: [I¡¯m just heading to work now]


    I angled my phone and snapped a photo of the street through the car window.


    He took a while to respond.


    Ashton: [Nice view out here.]


    Ashton: [That window¡¯s tinted. Looks aftermarket. That¡¯s not a taxi. Whose car are you in?]


    Me: [Fabrizio¡¯s. He¡¯s giving me a lift to Valmont¡¯s headquarters.]


    Ashton: [Stay away from him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]


    The row of exmation marks made my eyes twitch.


    Me: [He¡¯s just giving me a ride. Stop freaking out.]


    Ashton: [If he were just a colleague, he wouldn¡¯t be chauffeuring you around.]


    Me: [He said it was on his way. Chill.]


    The car rolled to a stop at a red light.


    Fabrizio nced over.


    ¡®Who¡¯s got you smiling at your phone?¡¯


    I touched my face.


    I hadn¡¯t realised I¡¯d been smiling.


    ¡®I was texting my husband. He wasn¡¯t thrilled about meing to France alone.¡¯


    ¡®Ah.¡¯ Fabrizio smiled faintly. ¡®You and Mr Laurent seem close. When we met in Sunset City, you two didn¡¯t seem anything like the gossip made you out to be.¡¯


    I shrugged. ¡®People say a lot of crap online. We don¡¯t listen to it.¡¯


    The light turned green.


    He hit the elerator.


    The car surged forward, then slowed again at a junction.


    ¡®I¡¯ve worked non-stop since I was twenty. Now I¡¯m thirty-six, and I¡¯ve never had a proper rtionship. Seeing the two of you makes me think I missed something.¡¯


    I looked at him.


    Fabrizio caught my surprise and gave a shortugh. ¡®It wasn¡¯t easy getting where I am. I had to put everything into work. If this newunch goes well, I might finally get a break.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯ll go well,¡¯ I said.


    He nced at me, half-smiling. ¡®Someone like you must have brilliant friends. If there¡¯s anyone you think might suit me, feel free to set me up.¡¯


    ¡®Sure,¡¯ I replied automatically.


    Yvaine popped into my head, but the mental image of Cade hearing about that match-up made my shoulders tighten.


    He¡¯d drive straight through customs with a baseball bat.


    My spine prickled just thinking about it.


    The conversation thinned out.


    I turned my phone screen back on and immediately flinched.


    Ashton had flooded my inbox with full paragraphs, dozens of them.


    I scrolled.


    And scrolled.


    The top was nowhere in sight.


    I hadn¡¯t even started reading when my phone rang.


    I answered.


    ¡®Honeeey!¡¯ His voice sted through the speaker, deliberately loud.


    I nced sideways.


    Yep, Fabrizio had turned his head, lips twitching.


    I gave him an apologetic shrug and covered the mic.


    ¡®I¡¯m not deaf. Stop shouting.¡¯


    ¡®Why haven¡¯t you replied to my texts?¡¯


    ¡®I just saw them. I was about to.¡¯


    ¡®Oh, I see,¡¯ Ashton was still talking loudly. ¡®Paris is full of creeps. You should be careful.¡¯


    I rubbed my eyebrow.


    That wasn¡¯t even subtle.


    He might as well have said Fabrizio¡¯s name with a siren on top.


    ¡®I¡¯m aware.¡¯


    Before I could steer the conversation elsewhere, Fabrizio leaned slightly toward my phone and spoke clearly, voice pitched for maximum reach. ¡®Hello, Mr Laurent. Fabrizio Marchetti here. Your wife is in my car. Very safe. If it makes you feel better, I can drive her around for the rest of her stay.¡¯


    Ashton didn¡¯t answer.


    The silence dragged.


    I cleared my throat. ¡®That¡¯s not necessary. I just didn¡¯t know the area yet. I¡¯ll take the metro tomorrow.¡¯


    A beat, then Ashton forced out, ¡®Right. Yes. Paris is... perfectly safe.¡¯


    He started to speak again, but Fabrizio cut in smoothly. ¡®Miss Vance, we¡¯ve arrived.¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s voice rose again. ¡®Why¡¯s he still calling you Miss? You are my wife.¡¯


    The car pulled into a private lot in front of Valmont & Cie¡¯s headquarters.


    I leaned forward.


    The building was enormous.


    Pale stone, sharp lines, the whole thing stretched so far up it made my jaw ache.


    ¡®Damn,¡¯ I muttered under my breath.


    I¡¯d read articles, seen the stock tickers and glossy photos.


    But standing in front of it, I finally understood the scale.


    I said into the phone, ¡®I¡¯m here. I¡¯ll call youter if I get a second.¡¯


    Then I hung up.


    ***


    My first day at Valmont & Cie went so well that I¡¯d lost all track of time.


    After dinner with several new colleagues, Fabrizio drove me back to the house despite my insistence that he didn¡¯t need to.


    I¡¯d just stepped out of the shower when Ashton¡¯s video call lit up my screen.


    I propped myself against the headboard and held the phone to my face.


    My hair was still damp from the shower, twisted into a loose knot with strands falling around my ears.


    I¡¯d thrown on a in white T-shirt.


    He was lying in bed too, face ck with sleep.


    ¡®It¡¯s past midnight there,¡¯ I said. ¡®Why aren¡¯t you asleep?¡¯


    He yawned. ¡®Was waiting for you to finish. Move closer to the camera. Let me see your face.¡¯


    I dragged the phone an inch from my face. ¡®I¡¯ve only been here two days. You talk like it¡¯s been two years.¡¯


    ¡®How was your first day?¡¯


    ¡®Amazing. Thepany¡¯s huge. They gave me a private office.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s it?¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s it.¡¯


    I knew what he was fishing for, but didn¡¯t rise to the bait.


    ¡®Everyone¡¯s been really amodating. I asked for an extra monitor and someone brought it in before I finished the sentence. Honestly, it¡¯s a very decent setup. I could get used to it.¡¯


    He sat upright. ¡®You nning to stay there permanently?¡¯


    I smiled. ¡®Maybe. Might stick around until the new collection drops.¡¯


    ¡®No way! You said one week. One. Now you¡¯re talking about six months?¡¯


    I nodded. ¡®Correct.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s it. I¡¯m flying to France in three days and dragging you home myself.¡¯


    ¡®Rx. I was only kidding. You don¡¯t have toe. I¡¯ll be back soon.¡¯


    He gave a short grunt. ¡®I¡¯ming anyway.¡¯


    Then he circled back. ¡®That Marchetti isn¡¯t all over you, is he?¡¯

 Chapter 242 - 243 Bonus - 3: Industry Roundtable

    <h4>Chapter 242: Chapter 243 Bonus Chapter 3: Industry Roundtable</h4>


    I pressed my lips together to keep fromughing. ¡®He doesn¡¯t have time to take a coffee break, let alone chase skirt. We¡¯re colleagues. If you keep using me, I¡¯m going to get pissed off.¡¯


    ¡®Fine,¡¯ he muttered. ¡®But no more rides in his car. Take the metro like everyone else.¡¯


    ¡®Done.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t hang up.


    He just kept talking.


    Five minutes in, I started sliding down the headboard.


    Ashton¡¯s voice dropped. ¡®Tilt the phone down.¡¯


    I did, yawning. ¡®What now?¡¯


    He didn¡¯t speak.


    I followed his line of sight, nced down, saw the cor of my nightshirt gaping wide open.


    I rolled my eyes. ¡®Perv.¡¯


    I yanked the phone back up.


    He made aining noise.


    ¡®I¡¯m going to bed now. Night, Ash.¡¯


    ¡®No, wait¡ªjust one more second. Lower it a bit, let me see¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Use your imagination.¡¯


    I hung up.


    ***


    I was supposed to meet Ashton at the airport, but Valmont & Cie were hosting a small industry roundtable at their HQ, and I couldn¡¯t bail.


    I sent him the address to my ce and told him to let himself in.


    The event was hosted by the French jewellery guild, invitation-only, and packed with senior designers from the major brands.


    On paper, it looked like a friendlyworking session.


    In reality, everyone was silently trying to outshine each other.


    No one made eye contact unless it was a challenge.


    Valmont & Cie, being the crown jewel of the lot, usually hosted.


    That day was no exception.


    Fabrizio didn¡¯t normally bother with events like this, but he figured I might want to see how the locals yed.


    He blocked off his afternoon and walked me down to the conference room.


    There were already about a dozen designers inside, seated in clusters.


    Just as we reached the door, a man¡¯s voice came through.


    ¡®Valmont¡¯s autumn-winter line is going to tank this year.¡¯


    Fabrizio stopped dead.


    The door wasn¡¯t soundproof, and the ss panel offered a clear view of the guy speaking.


    He was blond, narrow-shouldered, wearing a scarf indoors.


    Another voice jumped in. ¡®They¡¯ve gone downhill. Last year¡¯sunch was trash, and this year looks even worse.¡¯


    A third one snorted. ¡®Heard Marchetti¡¯s been running the ce into the ground. Half the team¡¯s already walked out.¡¯


    ¡®Should be fun watching him crash and burn.¡¯


    I looked up at Fabrizio.


    He didn¡¯t pretend not to have heard them, but his features still maintained their usual calm, unshakeable poise, yet another trait I admired in the man.


    ¡®The one mouthing off, that¡¯s Jean-Baptiste,¡¯ he said. ¡®He used to be a senior designer with us. Quitst year. Made a mess of it on the way out.¡¯


    I leaned in closer. ¡®Messy how?¡¯


    ¡®He took a team with him, started his own brand. He¡¯s been coasting off the Valmont name ever since. Landed a few decent contracts. He actually just stole a project out from under usst week.¡¯ Fabrizio tilted his chin. ¡®The ones buzzing around him in there? All his people.¡¯


    I thought about Nyx Collective and Violet Lin.


    It wasn¡¯t the same thing, yet I could rte.


    Fabrizio looked tired for half a second. Just a crack.


    ¡®Valmont looks stable from the outside, but it¡¯s a mess behind the scenes. Internal turnover, shrinking margins, investors breathing down my neck. To be honest, I¡¯m not confident about the autumn-winterunch. That¡¯s why I reached out to you.¡¯


    Well. That exined a lot.


    He must¡¯ve caught my face because he added, quickly, ¡®I¡¯m not trying to pressure you. Just telling you how it is. Anyway, ignore them. They¡¯re just pping their mouths. Doesn¡¯t matter. Come on.¡¯


    ¡®Alright.¡¯


    We walked in.


    Jean-Baptiste spotted Fabrizio immediately.


    He dipped his head and whispered something to the man next to him.


    One of them nced at me, leaned closer and muttered in French: ¡®That¡¯s her? The new girl from Skyline? She looks twenty. Other than a pretty face, what¡¯s she supposed to know?¡¯


    ¡®Probably can¡¯t even speak French. Good luck getting anything useful out of her.¡¯


    They didn¡¯t bother lowering their voices, assuming I wouldn¡¯t understand a word.


    I walked up to Jean-Baptiste.


    ¡®My French is shit, but I understand enough. So thanks for calling me young and pretty. As for the rest... this job isn¡¯t about age or face. It¡¯s about work. And you haven¡¯t seen mine.¡¯


    His mouth twitched.


    The smug tilt in his posture disappeared.


    He sat up.


    ¡®You¡ª¡¯


    I turned and walked off.


    I took a seat beside Fabrizio just as the host stepped onstage.


    People quieted immediately.


    The format was standard.


    Each brand took turns presenting their design concept andtest pieces.


    Most of the slides were outdated, recycled from old press decks.


    I leaned forward anyway.


    It was the first time I¡¯d been to one of these.


    Eventually, Valmont¡¯s guy got up.


    He wasn¡¯t a designer, more of a corporate mouthpiece.


    Everyone assumed he¡¯d trot out the same tired slideshow from spring.


    Then he clicked to a new slide.


    The words ¡®Autumn/Winter 2025 ¨C Lead Designer: Mirabelle Vance¡¯ appeared on screen.


    There was a pause.


    From Jean-Baptiste¡¯s side came a loud, deliberate clicking of his tongue.


    ¡®They¡¯re putting all their chips on some nobody. Are they that desperate?¡¯


    Everyone heard him.


    The speaker ignored it and started flipping through my earlier collections.


    Each slide filled the giant screen: sketches, colour palettes, stone specs.


    Gradually, the noise faded.


    Exactly as I said¡ªlet the work speak.


    Even Jean-Baptiste blinked hard at the screen.


    ¡®It¡¯s... fine,¡¯ he muttered. ¡®Bit basic, maybe.¡¯


    Next slide showed his design.


    His signature still sat in the bottom corner, in that ridiculous brush script.


    ¡®This was from one of our former designers,¡¯ the presenter said, stony-faced. ¡®You canpare it to Miss Vance¡¯s. The conclusion is obvious. She¡¯s leading this year¡¯s autumn-winter line. We¡¯re excited for what¡¯s ahead.¡¯


    Silence.


    Then whispering, a few nods.


    Someone said ¡®clean work¡¯.


    Someone else muttered something about colour restraint.


    Jean-Baptiste turned pink.

 Chapter 243 - 244 Bonus - 4: Crazy About You

    <h4>Chapter 243: Chapter 244 Bonus Chapter 4: Crazy About You</h4>


    Before the next brand took the mic, the host stepped forward again.


    ¡®Good news: we¡¯ve got a special guest joining uster today.¡¯


    ¡®Who is it?¡¯ someone in the back asked.


    ¡®Monsieur Ashton Laurent,¡¯ the host announced. ¡®He¡¯s a high-level investor from Skyline City, with significant stakes in France as well. It¡¯s a privilege to have him here. He only confirmed a few minutes ago that he¡¯d be joining us.¡¯


    Backs straightened.


    Even the ones who¡¯d been dozing off perked up.


    The presentations resumed.


    Fabrizio caught my eye from across the row and mouthed, ¡®Mr Laurent¡¯sing?¡¯


    I shrugged. ¡®No idea.¡¯


    I reached for my phone and typed quickly.


    Me: [Why didn¡¯t you tell me you wereing to the event?]


    He replied in under a minute.


    Ashton: [Last-minute decision. Wanted to see you.]


    Me: [Where are you now?]


    Ashton: [Outside.]


    I nced at the doors.


    They hadn¡¯t opened.


    Jean-Baptiste opened his mouth again. ¡®Didn¡¯t they say no phones during the presentations?¡¯


    Fabrizio answered before I could. ¡®There¡¯s no such rule. Stop reaching.¡¯


    Jean-Baptiste let out a sharp snort. ¡®Maybe not officially, but it¡¯s basic manners. Messaging someone while a colleague¡¯s presenting? It¡¯s disrespectful.¡¯


    His eyes flicked to me pointedly.


    My phone was still in my hand.


    Everyone caught the implication.


    I turned my screen off and set the phone face-down on the table.


    ¡®My phone¡¯s on silent and I didn¡¯t disturb anyone. You, on the other hand, just derailed the entire presentation.¡¯


    Jean-Baptiste opened his mouth¡ª


    ¡®Excuse me!¡¯ the host said abruptly, eyes fixed on the rear doors. ¡®Our honoured guest is here.¡¯


    Every head in the room turned.


    Ashton was standing in the doorway.


    He wore his customary dark suit and his even more customary inscrutable face.


    The room went quiet.


    Everyone sat straighter.


    He strode in, passed Jean-Baptiste, paused.


    ¡®I¡¯m the one she was messaging,¡¯ he said. His voice was smooth but carried. ¡®Mirabelle Vance is my wife.¡¯


    Jean-Baptiste¡¯s mouth dropped open.


    He darted a panicked look at the man on his left, but his friend avoided his eyes.


    He was still trying toe up with a way to talk himself out of it when Ashton walked straight past him.


    He stopped next to me, reached for my wrist, and pulled me up.


    The host approached, but Ashton shook his head.


    He nced around the room.


    ¡®I¡¯ve heard good things about this panel. But now I see the ims have been exaggerated. My wife came here to learn, to pick the brains of what are, reportedly, some of the best designers in the industry. She didn¡¯te here to get lectured on meeting etiquette.¡¯


    He took my hand and started walking.


    The host¡¯s voice rose behind us. ¡®Mr Laurent, I apologise for¡ª¡¯


    The rest of his words were cut off by the door swinging shut.


    Fabrizio caught up at the lift lobby, a little breathless. ¡®Mr Laurent, wait, please.¡¯


    Ashton turned, nodded politely. ¡®Yes, Mr Marchetti?¡¯


    ¡®Why don¡¯t I take you both to lunch? To wee you to Paris, and to make up for that little unpleasantness back there.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s kind of you, but no, thank you. I justnded and I¡¯m feeling jegged. If possible, I¡¯d like to ask for the rest of the day off for my wife.¡¯


    Fabrizio hesitated. ¡®Sure.¡¯


    ¡®Good.¡¯ Ashton¡¯s mouth quirked. ¡®I¡¯ll sleep better with her by my side.¡¯


    I pinched his palm warningly.


    He squeezed my hand tighter in response.


    Then he pulled something from his jacket and handed it over. ¡®Our wedding¡¯s on the sixth of June. We¡¯d love for you to attend.¡¯


    Fabrizio took the invitation, brushed his thumb along the edge. ¡®I¡¯ll be there. Congrattions.¡¯


    Once we were out of earshot, I turned to him. ¡®What was that?¡¯


    ¡®What was what?¡¯


    ¡®That whole ¡°I¡¯ll sleep better with my wife there¡± speech.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s the truth.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s also embarrassing.¡¯


    Ashton nced down at me. ¡®So I embarrassed you?¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s not what I said. But, yeah, sort of. He¡¯s my boss and colleague. It¡¯s weird talking about sleeping with my husband in front of him.¡¯


    He made a low sound in his throat. ¡®I don¡¯t like him. Something about him¡¯s off.¡¯


    I frowned. ¡®And where did you get that invite?¡¯


    ¡®I had it made just for him.¡¯ He sounded smug about it.


    ¡®You¡¯re crazy.¡¯


    ¡®Crazy about you.¡¯


    ¡®And you are getting cheesier by the day.¡¯ I shook my head. ¡®Has Dominic been downloading you mushy teen ros again?¡¯


    We stepped out of the Valmont & Cie building.


    A cherry-red convertible was parked right in front of the steps.


    I blinked. ¡®That yours?¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s a vacation. I¡¯m allowed to show off a little overseas.¡¯


    He opened the passenger door and nudged me in.


    As soon as we hit the road, Ashton gave me the news.


    ¡®Your dad got seven years. Embezzlement, tax fraud, forged records. It¡¯s official.¡¯


    I twisted round in my seat. ¡®Seriously?¡¯


    He nodded. ¡®Now the Vances are scrambling to sell the house so they can afford a decentwyer.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t know how I felt.


    Relieved? Maybe.


    d? Not quite.


    Ashton caught my expression. ¡®They¡¯re done. Vance Omnia¡¯s tanking. I heard Caroline is nning to move to another city. They won¡¯te after you again.¡¯


    ¡®Good.¡¯ I turned my head towards him. ¡®Thank you.¡¯


    I used to feel weird about leaning on him.


    Now I didn¡¯t see the point in holding back.


    He was my husband.


    Wasn¡¯t that what husbands were for?


    I nced out the window.


    The street signs didn¡¯t match my neighbourhood.


    ¡®This isn¡¯t the way to my house.¡¯


    ¡®LGH¡¯s got a hotel here. I¡¯m not staying in that sad little house Fabrizio set up.¡¯


    I opened my mouth to needle him for it, but he cut in first. ¡®I just prefer my own ce. That¡¯s all.¡¯


    I rolled my eyes and let it go.


    We pulled up to a tall limestone building with iron balconies and a ck awning.


    Ashton handed off the keys to the valet and took my hand.


    We stepped into the lift, rose all the way to the eighteenth floor.


    Only one room up here.


    As soon as the door shut behind us, Ashton pushed me against it.


    His mouth hit mine before I even caught my breath.


    His teeth sank into my lower lip.


    ¡®Told you I¡¯de to France to get you.¡¯

 Chapter 244 - 245 Surprise Guest

    <h4>Chapter 244: Chapter 245 Surprise Guest</h4>


    I didn¡¯t know what else to say. ¡®Wow. That¡¯s... a lot. Thanks, Mr Marchetti.¡¯


    ¡®Fabrizio. And I should be the one thanking you. Since you¡¯ll be carrying the line, I think it¡¯s only fair you profit from it, beyond just a sry. Hence the joint venture proposal. Have you given it any thought?¡¯


    ¡®I have. Still undecided. You know I already have my studio in Skyline.¡¯


    ¡®I do. But there¡¯s now saying a designer can only run one. If it¡¯s the workload you¡¯re worried about, I¡¯ll handle the admin, payroll, HR, the dull stuff. You focus on the design. We can keep it small to start. Say, ten million seed capital. That¡¯s five million euros for a fifty per cent stake. With the sales you¡¯re pulling in from your current studio, it¡¯s hardly a gamble.¡¯


    Before I could respond, a loud, deliberate click came from Jean-Baptiste¡¯s corner.


    ¡®They¡¯re really staking everything on some nobody? That¡¯s desperate.¡¯


    He wasn¡¯t whispering.


    Everyone heard.


    The presenter carried on regardless, switching to slides of my past collections.


    Each one filled the screen¡ªsketches, colour palettes, gemstone specs.


    The murmuring slowly quietened.


    I saw heads begin to nod.


    Fabrizio leaned in. ¡®Want to say a few words?¡¯


    His scent was suddenly too close.


    I shifted in my seat.


    ¡®I¡¯d rather let the work speak for itself.¡¯


    The next slide brought up an old piece.


    Jean-Baptiste¡¯s signature sprawled pretentiously in the corner.


    ¡®This one¡¯s from a former designer,¡¯ the presenter said, stony-faced. ¡®Compare it with Miss Vance¡¯s. The difference speaks for itself. We¡¯ve chosen the right lead for this year¡¯s line, and we¡¯re excited to see whates next.¡¯


    Jean-Baptiste flushed a mottled pink.


    Before the next brand took the mic, the host returned to the stage.


    ¡®Good news: we¡¯ve got a special guest joining uster today.¡¯


    ¡®Who is it?¡¯ someone asked from the back.


    ¡®Monsieur Ashton Laurent. A major investor from Skyline City, with stakes in several French businesses as well. He confirmed just minutes ago that he¡¯ll be joining us.¡¯


    Chairs straightened.


    Even the dozing ones sat up.


    The presentation resumed.


    Fabrizio caught my eye, mouthing, ¡®Mr Laurent¡¯sing?¡¯


    ¡®Apparently,¡¯ I said, shrugging. ¡®News to me.¡¯


    I picked up my phone and typed quickly.


    Me: [Why didn¡¯t you tell me you wereing here?]


    Ashton: [Last-minute decision. Wanted to see you.]


    Me: [Where are you now?]


    Ashton: [Outside.]


    I nced at the doors.


    They were still shut.


    Jean-Baptiste cleared his throat, loud and pointed. ¡®Weren¡¯t phones banned during the presentation?¡¯


    Fabrizio answered before I could. ¡®There¡¯s no such rule.¡¯


    Jean-Baptiste snorted. ¡®Maybe not officially, but it¡¯s understood. Phones mean photos. Photos mean leaks.¡¯


    His eyesnded on me.


    My phone was still in my hand.


    Everyone caught the implication.


    I locked the screen and ced it face down on the table.


    ¡®I didn¡¯t take any photos. My phone¡¯s silent, I wasn¡¯t disturbing anyone. You, on the other hand, just interrupted the presentation.¡¯


    ¡®You say you didn¡¯t take photos,¡¯ he sneered. ¡®And we¡¯re just supposed to believe that?¡¯


    ¡®You can check my phone,¡¯ I said evenly. ¡®If there¡¯s a single photo from today, I¡¯ll apologise publicly. If not, you apologise, and prepare for a defamationwsuit.¡¯


    Jean-Baptiste opened his mouth¡ª


    ¡®Excuse me!¡¯ the host interrupted, staring past the rear doors. ¡®Our honoured guest has arrived.¡¯


    All heads turned.


    Ashton walked in, suited as always, expression unreadable.


    Two assistants followed, one step behind.


    He strode past Jean-Baptiste, then paused.


    ¡®I¡¯m the one she was messaging,¡¯ he said, voice low but carrying. ¡®Mirabelle Vance is my wife.¡¯


    Jean-Baptiste went crimson.


    He shot a desperate nce at the man beside him, who refused to meet his eyes.


    Ashton had already moved on.


    He reached my side, took my wrist, and pulled me to my feet.


    The host approached, smiling far too widely, hand outstretched.


    Ashton ignored it.


    He scanned the room.


    ¡®I heard good things about this panel, which is why I dropped in. But clearly the praises were overstated. My wife came here to learn, to exchange ideas with what are, supposedly, some of the industry¡¯s best. She didn¡¯te to be falsely used without evidence.¡¯


    He took my hand and started walking.


    The host¡¯s voice rose behind us, panicked. ¡®Mr Laurent, I must apologise¡ª¡¯


    The rest was cut off as the door swung shut.


    ¡®I might¡¯ve wanted to stay,¡¯ I said, half-grumbling.


    Ashton didn¡¯t pause. ¡®I know the organiser. They¡¯ll send over the slidester if you like.¡¯


    The look he gave me held enough heat to scorch.


    If we hadn¡¯t been surrounded by people, he¡¯d have kissed me breathless.


    Fabrizio caught up at the lift, slightly out of breath. ¡®Mr Laurent, wait, please.¡¯


    Ashton turned. ¡®Yes, Mr Marchetti?¡¯


    ¡®Why don¡¯t I take you both to lunch? A wee to Paris, and to smooth things over.¡¯


    ¡®Kind of you, but no, thank you. I justnded, and the jetg¡¯s kicking in. If possible, I¡¯d like the rest of the day off for my wife.¡¯


    Fabrizio hesitated, then nodded. ¡®Of course.¡¯


    ¡®Good.¡¯ Ashton¡¯s mouth twitched. ¡®I sleep better with her beside me.¡¯


    I gave his palm a warning pinch.


    He squeezed back.


    Then he pulled an envelope from his jacket. ¡®Our wedding¡¯s on the sixth of June. We¡¯d love for you toe.¡¯


    Fabrizio took the invitation. ¡®I¡¯ll be there. Congrattions.¡¯


    Once we were out of earshot, I turned to Ashton. ¡®What was that?¡¯


    ¡®What was what?¡¯


    ¡®That whole ¡°I sleep better with my wife there¡± thing.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s true.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s also mortifying. He¡¯s my boss. You can¡¯t just talk about sleeping with me in front of him.¡¯


    Ashton made a low, dismissive sound. ¡®I don¡¯t like him. There¡¯s something off about that guy.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯ve said that before.¡¯ I frowned. ¡®And where did you even get that invitation? I didn¡¯t know they were printed yet.¡¯


    ¡®I had it done for him before I left Skyline,¡¯ he said smugly.


    ¡®You¡¯re insane.¡¯


    ¡®Insanely in love with you.¡¯


    ¡®And increasingly cheesy.¡¯ I shook my head, trying not to grin. ¡®Have you been secretly bingeing teen ros?¡¯


    We stepped out of the Valmont & Cie building.


    A cherry-red convertible waited at the kerb.


    I stared. ¡®That¡¯s yours?¡¯

 Chapter 245 - 246 The Conversation, Continued

    <h4>Chapter 245: Chapter 246 The Conversation, Continued</h4>


    Ashton gave a one-shouldered shrug. ¡®It¡¯s a holiday.¡¯


    He waved off his assistants, opened the door, and nudged me inside.


    Once we were on the road, he said, ¡®The court¡¯s ruled. Franklin Vance got seven years. Embezzlement, tax fraud, forged records. It¡¯s official.¡¯


    I twisted in my seat. ¡®You¡¯re serious?¡¯


    He nodded. ¡®The Vances are scrambling to sell the house just to afford a half-decent appealwyer.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t know what I felt.


    Relieved, maybe.


    d? Not exactly.


    Ashton gave my hand a light squeeze. ¡®It¡¯s done. Vance Omnia¡¯s tanking. Caroline¡¯s moving cities. They¡¯re noting after you again.¡¯


    ¡®Good.¡¯ I turned towards him. ¡®Thank you.¡¯


    He frowned. ¡®How many times do I have to tell you to stop saying that?¡¯


    ¡®Right. Sorry. Forgot.¡¯


    I nced out the window.


    The street names didn¡¯t look familiar.


    ¡®This isn¡¯t the way home.¡¯


    ¡®I booked us into a hotel. I¡¯m not staying in that miserable little house Fabrizio set up.¡¯


    I opened my mouth to tease him, but he cut in first. ¡®I just want a ce that¡¯s ours.¡¯


    I rolled my eyes and let it go.


    The car pulled up outside a tall limestone building with iron balconies and a discreet ck awning.


    I looked around. ¡®Are we lost? This doesn¡¯t look like a hotel.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s a private one.¡¯


    Ashton handed the keys to a man who might¡¯ve been a valet or just a well-dressed security guard, then took my hand.


    The lift carried us to the top floor.


    Only one door.


    As soon as it shut behind us, Ashton pushed me up against it.


    His mouth met mine before I had a chance to breathe.


    ¡®You hung up on mest night,¡¯ he said, teeth grazing my lower lip. ¡®Time to finish that conversation.¡¯


    He called it a conversation, though I barely managed a word¡ªmoans didn¡¯t count.


    The faint stubble on his jaw scraped down my cheek, my neck, then the hollow at my throat, leaving behind a trail of heat and something close to desperation.


    Some old saying floated through my mind, something about absence making the heart grow fonder.


    In Ashton¡¯s case, absence made the heart go feral, apparently.


    We¡¯d only been apart three days, but he was acting like it¡¯d been months.


    His arms locked tight around my waist as he lifted me easily, my legs wrapping around his hips.


    He buried his face in my hair, inhaling deeply.


    His cheeks were warm against my skin, his breath hot on my neck.


    I tilted my head down to meet his gaze.


    When Ashton was angry or aroused, his eyes darkened to deep blue, a kind of storm in them.


    Today, it was probably both.


    ¡®If I could turn your eyes into gems, they¡¯d be worth more than the Hope Diamond,¡¯ I said before I could stop myself.


    Ashton stilled, then let out a lowugh. ¡®That¡¯s what¡¯s on your mind right now?¡¯


    I nodded. ¡®Your eyes are unreal.¡¯


    ¡®Want to know what¡¯s on mine?¡¯


    ¡®Go on.¡¯


    He answered with a sharp thrust of his hips.


    The hard press of him left no ambiguity.


    ¡®Take your clothes off,¡¯ he murmured.


    When his voice dropped like that, resistance was a joke.


    ¡®You¡¯ll have to put me down first,¡¯ I said, licking my lips.


    He carried me to the bed and set me down carefully.


    He leaned over me, tall enough that his shadow blocked out everything else.


    Then he kissed me again, slower this time, but hungrier.


    His tongue pushed into my mouth without hesitation.


    The faint mint of his toothpaste mixed with the lemon from my drink earlier, sharp and electric.


    Heat shot straight to my core, burning away what was left of my self-control.


    Part of me wanted him then and there; part of me wanted to draw it out.


    He pulled back slightly, eyes locked on mine as he unzipped my dress.


    The linen slipped away easily.


    My bra followed.


    Ashton¡¯s gaze travelled over me, slow and possessive and lust-filled.


    I couldn¡¯t sit still anymore.


    I grabbed thepels of his jacket and yanked them apart.


    His shirt was next.


    A button popped off.


    ¡®You need sturdier buttons,¡¯ I muttered.


    ¡®Noted,¡¯ he said, amused. ¡®I¡¯ll send a memo to my tailor.¡¯


    He dipped his head and kissed one breast, his hand cupping the other.


    Then his tongue flicked over a nipple, sucking lightly.


    His hand took hold of the other and rolled it between his fingers.


    God, the calluses on his fingers and palm were doing unspeakable things to my nervous system, and I arched instinctively into his touch.


    His belt buckle was digging into my stomach.


    I undid it quickly, dragging the zip down and pulling at the waistband of his boxers.


    His cock sprang free, hot and heavy against my thigh, slick with anticipation.


    Before I could reach for him, he drew away, parted my thighs. ¡®My turn first.¡¯


    His face was flushed, his eyes never leaving mine as he slipped a finger inside me.


    I gasped.


    His fingers curled just right, hitting the spot that made my hips jerk and my breath catch.


    I clenched around him, already drenched.


    It was too much and not enough at once.


    I fisted his hair, dragging his face up to mine. ¡®I¡ª¡¯


    He didn¡¯t let me finish.


    His mouth reced his fingers, and I nearly came on the spot.


    He licked and sucked, unhurried at first, then faster.


    My legs trembled, trying to hold it back.


    But the pressure built and snapped in one dizzying wave.


    I came hard, thighs shaking, fingers digging into the sheets, breathing in short, broken bursts.


    Ashton disappeared for a moment.


    When he came back, he rolled on a condom.


    ¡®Wait,¡¯ I said, voice hoarse.


    ¡®You want me to stop?¡¯


    ¡®Just¡ªgive me a second.¡¯ I sucked in air.


    He didn¡¯t argue, just brushed his cock along my slick folds, teasing.


    I moaned, pulled him closer, hooked my legs around him. ¡®Now.¡¯


    He thrust into me, and I cried out, pleasure mming through me like a jolt.


    I dug my fingers into the dimples in his lower back.


    He tensed, then shuddered, then picked up speed and moved with a new urgency.


    His eyes were zed with heat, a deeper blue than I¡¯d ever seen.


    I didn¡¯t recognise the voice that came out of me, but it kept urging him faster, deeper.


    When he finally came, I swear I cked out for a second.


    The world blinked out, and stars flickered behind my eyes.


    ¡®I love you, Mira,¡¯ Ashton whispered into my ear.


    Did I say it back?


    I was too far gone to remember.

 Chapter 246 - 247 Wrong Words at the Worst Time

    <h4>Chapter 246: Chapter 247 Wrong Words at the Worst Time</h4>


    ¡®What are you doing today?¡¯ I asked over breakfast. ¡®ying tourist?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m meeting some peopleter,¡¯ Ashton said.


    ¡®I didn¡¯t know you knew anyone in Paris.¡¯


    Ashton looked over. ¡®Aren¡¯t you curious who I¡¯m meeting?¡¯


    I guessed, ¡®Business contacts?¡¯


    ¡®Sort of.¡¯


    ¡®Thought so.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s it?¡¯


    ¡®Hm?¡¯ I nced up from my tablet, skimming through coverage of thetest jewellery show.


    ¡®What if I just lied?¡¯ His tone was mild, but something was brewing in his eyes. Not quite anger, but definitely not nothing.


    ¡®Why would you lie?¡¯


    ¡®What if I was going to meet a woman? Remember Rowan Hale?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re meeting Rowan Hale?¡¯ My eyebrows shot up. ¡®Didn¡¯t know she was in Paris.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not. Just using her as an example. She made up that thing about us dating, remember? I showed up to a business dinner and she happened to be there. Stories like that aren¡¯t rare. Aren¡¯t you even a little worried I¡¯ll be seduced by someone else?¡¯


    I smiled. ¡®You¡¯ve just exined why I¡¯m NOT worried. You told me about Rowan the minute it happened. I was right there when she called you at night. You even put her on speaker.¡¯ I leaned in and kissed his cheek. ¡®I trust you.¡¯


    Same way Ashton trusted me when it came to Daniel Williams.


    My mother, Caroline, had always been the jealous type. She¡¯d kick off if she found a single long hair on Franklin¡¯s suit or caught a whiff of unfamiliar perfume.


    Not that it excused Franklin¡¯s absentee parenting, but I could understand why he avoided home.


    I promised myself I wouldn¡¯t turn into her.


    Ashton was unusually quiet on the drive to work.


    He was never exactly chatty, but ever since we got engaged, he¡¯d be clingier¡ªlonger calls, more texts, dropping by unexpectedly.


    And now it was like he¡¯d snapped back to his old, unreadable self.


    I nudged his arm. ¡®What¡¯s going on?¡¯


    ¡®Nothing,¡¯ he said, eyes on the road¡ªeven though the only interesting thing outside was a half-covered sinkhole.


    ¡®You seem... off.¡¯


    ¡®Do I.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah. Since breakfast. Is something bothering you?¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯


    ¡®Trouble at work? I heard you talking to your VP earlier. Everything alright at Skyline?¡¯


    ¡®Fine.¡¯


    ¡®Seriously?¡¯


    ¡®Seriously.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t buy it.¡¯


    ¡®Why not.¡¯


    I looked at him. ¡®Because if everything was fine, you wouldn¡¯t be talking in monosybles.¡¯


    He gave me a sidelong nce. ¡®What do you think is wrong?¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t know. That¡¯s why I¡¯m asking.¡¯


    ¡®Maybe think harder.¡¯


    Ah. So it WAS about me.


    But what had I done?


    ¡®Is this about the salt in your coffee? That was an ident. I was distracted. You¡¯re not still annoyed about that, are you?¡¯


    He made a vague noise.


    I would¡¯ve pinched him if he wasn¡¯t driving. ¡®Was that a yes or a no? And don¡¯t give me ¡°hmm¡±. That¡¯s not a proper word.¡¯


    He replied with: ¡®Why were you distracted?¡¯


    ¡®Work. The autumn/winterunch ising up fast, and we¡¯re basically starting from zero. Fabrizio texted this morning. He¡¯s taking me on a tour today. We¡¯re going¡ª¡¯


    ¡®You didn¡¯t tell me you were going out with him,¡¯ Ashton cut in.


    ¡®Going on a tour,¡¯ I repeated. ¡®Don¡¯t make it sound like a date. It¡¯s for work.¡¯


    ¡®Didn¡¯t know jewellery design required strolling round Paris,¡¯ he said dryly.


    ¡®It¡¯s called getting inspiration. You think we just sit around and conjure up designs out of nowhere? We need ideas¡ªshapes, textures, feelings. And since our theme this season is ¡°L¡¯Ombre de Ville¡± ¨C Shadow of the City ¨C it makes sense to explore the corners most people overlook. Ivy on stone walls, wrought iron balconies, rain-slick cobblestones catching the light. That kind of thing.¡¯


    I could already picture it.


    Who said work had to be dull?


    ¡®I could¡¯ve taken you myself,¡¯ Ashton said.


    ¡®I don¡¯t want tourist traps. But we can go, just not today or tomorrow. How about the weekend? We¡¯ll do the Eiffel Tower, a Seine cruise, whatever you like.¡¯


    ¡®But you¡¯re still going out with Fabrizio today.¡¯


    ¡®Would it help if I told you we won¡¯t be alone? He¡¯s bringing two assistants. I¡¯ll be mostly talking to Louis-Fran?ois, our engraver. I need to check with him if champlev¨¦ enamel works with the materials I¡¯ve got in mind. Then there¡¯s Peter Carl. He¡¯s our stone guy. We¡¯re looking at peridot and ck diamonds¡ª¡¯ I stopped. I¡¯d been rambling. ¡®Anyway, it¡¯s work.¡¯


    Ashton slowed the car. ¡®We¡¯re here.¡¯


    When we stopped, I didn¡¯t get out straight away. ¡®So. Are we okay?¡¯


    He looked at me, then tapped his cheek with a finger.


    I leaned over and gave him a loud, smacking kiss. ¡®Better?¡¯


    He grunted.


    I grinned. ¡®You¡¯re jealous. Admit it. But don¡¯t be. Fabrizio¡¯s not my type. Besides, remember Lover¡¯s Span? We¡¯ve still got locks hanging on that bridge, and the keys are gone. No one¡¯s prising them off. My heart¡¯s literally locked with yours.¡¯


    Okay, thatst line was pure cheese. I nicked it from a filmst week. Still, if it worked, it worked.


    And it worked.


    Ashton curled his finger. ¡®Come here.¡¯


    I leaned in, and he cupped my face and kissed me. Properly. Deeply. Until I was out of breath and seeing stars.


    He pulled back. ¡®That was a proper kiss. Yours wasn¡¯t.¡¯


    I had to fix my lipstick, but it was worth it.


    Ashton being moody and childish was strangely adorable. No one else got to see that side of him but me.


    I resisted the urge to ruffle his hair. ¡®See youter.¡¯


    ¡®I checked. Fabrizio¡¯spany finishes at seven. I¡¯ll pick you up then.¡¯


    ¡®No need. We¡¯ll be out in the city all day. I don¡¯t know when I¡¯ll be done, and we¡¯ll probably end up having a work dinner.¡¯


    The moment I said it, I knew I¡¯d messed up.

 Chapter 247 - 248 Ashton: Cut Ties

    <h4>Chapter 247: Chapter 248 Ashton: Cut Ties</h4>


    I drove the red convertible a few more blocks before turning into an underground car park off Rue de Vaugirard.


    My men were already waiting.


    One of them nodded, climbed into the convertible, and drove off.


    Another opened the door of a in ck Peugeot.


    It looked like any other car in Paris, except for the armoured chassis, reinforced undercarriage, and bullet-resistant ss.


    Those modifications meant the inside was more cramped than usual, not helped by the fact that half the backseat was taken up by a man built like a powerlifter.


    Kylian Martin popped the cork off a champagne bottle and shouted, ¡®Surprise!¡¯


    I stared at him.


    The bear of a man rubbed the back of his neck. ¡®It¡¯s empty. Simon¡¯d have my head if I spilt booze in the car.¡¯


    I got in.


    The driver twisted round in his seat. ¡®Wee back, boss!¡¯


    ¡®Good to see you, Olivier.¡¯ I nodded at the red-haired man.


    He shed a grin so white it practically lit up the car. ¡®Kylian told me you got married. Thought he was chatting shit till I saw it in the news. Still didn¡¯t believe it. You can¡¯t trust the media. One minute you¡¯re shagging a pop star, next you¡¯ve eloped with a duchess. No offence, boss, but¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Eyes on the road, Rusty,¡¯ Kylian cut in, sliding closer to me. ¡®Ignore him, boss. He hasn¡¯t shut up since I told him. So, is it true?¡¯


    Both pairs of eyes were on me.


    ¡®It¡¯s true.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re really married? No way!¡¯ Kylian¡¯s eyes nearly popped out of his skull.


    I showed him the ring.


    He leaned in, squinting at it so closely I could feel his breath on my hand.


    I shoved him off.


    ¡®Damn!¡¯ He grinned. ¡®Congrats, boss. When do we meet the missus?¡¯


    I thought of Mira¡ªand of Fabrizio,ing out of his office when I dropped her off.


    He hadn¡¯t touched her, but the way he lingered, the way he matched her stride, it made my knuckles itch.


    And she was having dinner with him tonight.


    Sure, there¡¯d be others present, but that didn¡¯t make it easier.


    And knowing Fabrizio, he¡¯d offer to walk her home, and they¡¯d be alone.


    ¡®Boss?¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯


    ¡®You alright?¡¯


    ¡®Why?¡¯


    Kylian shrugged. ¡®You had that look. Like you were ready to snap someone¡¯s neck.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s nothing.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t look convinced.


    ¡®Lea¡¯s in town,¡¯ he said after a pause. ¡®Figured you should know.¡¯


    I frowned. ¡®What¡¯s she doing here?¡¯


    Titanova¡¯s HQ was in Eindhoven. That¡¯s where Lea belonged.


    ¡®She wants to see you. We all do. She flew in yesterday, would¡¯ve greeted you herself, but she got pulled into somest-minute video call.¡¯


    ¡®Shipment of semi-automatics got held up in Montenegro,¡¯ Olivier said.


    ¡®Seized?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®No. Just gged. Serial numbers didn¡¯t match the bill ofding. Paperwork mess, I guess. I only caught bits of it. Lea¡¯s handling it.¡¯


    ¡®Speaking of rifles,¡¯ Kylian said, reaching for a silver briefcase on the passenger seat.


    He flicked it open to reveal a tidy array of weaponspact handguns, low recoil, slick matte finishes.


    ¡®This one¡¯s a Glock 43X. Lightweight, fires ten rounds, urate at close range, and you can slip it into your jacket and no one¡¯d know.¡¯


    I looked at the gun in his giant palm. It looked like a toy. ¡®No.¡¯


    ¡®No?¡¯ He blinked, like I¡¯d said something in a foreignnguage.


    ¡®I¡¯m not carrying. Not anymore.¡¯


    It was a promise I¡¯d made to Mira, not that she knew.


    ¡®You serious?¡¯ Kylian looked horrified. ¡®You can¡¯t walk around Paris without a gun. That¡¯s like, like...¡¯ He snapped his fingers. ¡®Rusty, help me out here.¡¯


    ¡®Like going out with no trousers on,¡¯ Olivier offered.


    Kylian scowled. ¡®That¡¯s not what I meant.¡¯


    ¡®Still true though,¡¯ Olivier muttered.


    Kylian turned to me. ¡®His metaphor¡¯s shit, but the point stands. You¡¯ve got enemies.¡¯


    ¡®None of them know I¡¯m here.¡¯


    ¡®You sure about that?¡¯


    ¡®It doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯m not part of Titanova anymore. And Titanova¡¯s clean. If someone starts spraying bullets in the middle of Paris, it means every effort I made to clean up thepany was for nothing. That, or you¡¯ve run it into the ground in my absence. Is that what¡¯s happened?¡¯


    ¡®Of course not!¡¯ Kylian threw his hands up and smacked the roof. The metal gave a small dent under the impact. ¡®I¡¯m just worried about your safety.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll be fine.¡¯


    ¡®Anyway,¡¯ Kylian said, shutting the case, smart enough to know when to quit. ¡®We¡¯ll meet up with Lea. Go over the reports. Operations. Performance.¡¯


    ¡®I trust you with all of it.¡¯ Kylian was Titanova¡¯s CFO. Brains sharper than his fists¡ªand those fists had taken down a man with a machete once. ¡®I can¡¯t stay long. Just give me the highlights. Any issues?¡¯


    ¡®Bialystok,¡¯ Olivier said. ¡®Our office is stuck in some ridiculous bureaucracy loop. Hidden fees, zoning disputes. And now every cousin and ex-owner within a hundred-mile radius is iming they own thend. Someone¡¯s blocking us.¡¯


    I flicked through my mental contact list. ¡®I know a guy. He runs the local fixers. I¡¯ll make a call.¡¯


    ¡®This is why you¡¯re the boss!¡¯ Olivier saluted me in the rear-view mirror.


    The car pulled into a grim-looking building on Rue des C¨¦vennes in the 15th arrondissement.


    ¡®We bought the ce,¡¯ Kylian exined. ¡®Figured it¡¯d be a good forward base for our Paris expansion.¡¯


    I nodded, didn¡¯t say anything.


    Since I handed the reins over to Kylian, Olivier and Lea, I¡¯d been easing myself out of Titanova.


    Thepany would always be part of my history. But it didn¡¯t need to be part of my and Mira¡¯s future.


    The lift took us to the eighth floor.


    The doors opened straight into an office.


    And standing right there in front of us was someone I hadn¡¯t seen in years.


    ¡®Ash.¡¯


    There were tears in her eyes.

 Chapter 248 - 249 Mira: Something’s off

    <h4>Chapter 248: Chapter 249 Mira: Something¡¯s off</h4>


    ¡®You seem distracted,¡¯ Fabrizio said. ¡®Is something wrong?¡¯


    ¡®What? Huh? Oh, nothing.¡¯ I shook my head.


    ¡®Either that, or Rue des Barres has lost its charm. We just walked past the Fontaine Stravinsky, and you barely nced at it.¡¯


    I looked around.


    It really was beautiful.


    Paris and romance were practically synonyms, and in early spring, the city was absurdly pretty.


    The chestnut trees lining the street were just starting to leaf, spilling soft green over the cream-coloured fa?ades.


    Bright awnings pped above bakery doors, caf¨¦ tables spilt onto the pavements, and the breeze smelled of flowers and warm bread.


    I pictured walking here with Ashton, hand in hand.


    The thought made me smile¡ªthen frown.


    I knew he was jealous of Fabrizio.


    The look on his face this morning when he dropped me off said so.


    But he had no reason to be.


    I was engaged to him. I didn¡¯t break promises. Not unless someone gave me a damn good reason¡ªlike Rhys had, when he pped me. It was only once, sure. But once is all it takes.


    ¡®There it is again,¡¯ Fabrizio¡¯s voice snapped me back. ¡®That look. I don¡¯t mean to pry, but if there¡¯s anything I can do, just say the word. You¡¯re important to thepany. I know I¡¯ve piled a lot on youtely, but I don¡¯t want you feeling like you¡¯re stranded in a foreign city with no support.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not alone. Ashton¡¯s here.¡¯ The words came out on autopilot.


    ¡®Right. Forgot about that.¡¯


    Up ahead, Louis-Fran?ois and Peter Carl were locked in a full-body debate, arms iling like they were conducting an invisible orchestra. I half expected someone to get smacked in the face.


    The breeze shifted, bringing the scent of lc and fresh baguettes.


    Paris was gorgeous. My job was picking up speed, I was working with great people, and I was engaged to the best man I knew.


    So why did it feel like something was about to go sideways?


    ¡®Thanks for your concern. I¡¯m fine, really.¡¯ I smiled at Fabrizio.


    He gave me one back, then nodded towards some nearby tables. ¡®Let¡¯s sit. Caf¨¦ L¡¯Oiseau Bleu, just there. We¡¯ll get some lunch and go over your sketches. This afternoon, I¡¯ll take you to Square des Peupliers. You were after the perfect pearl tone, weren¡¯t you? There¡¯s a Haussmann building with the exact creamy-white you need.¡¯


    That pulled me back into work mode. ¡®Actually, I¡¯ve changed my mind about the ne.¡¯


    ¡®Oh?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m leaning towards South Sea pearls. I know they¡¯re expensive, but the size¡ª10mm at least¡ªis just awesome, and that colour...¡¯ I let out a little sigh, already picturing it.


    When I moved into his house, Ashton had filled my new wardrobe with designer clothes, shoes, and basically every jeweller¡¯s wet dream.


    Including a South Sea Pearl ne. I¡¯d actually slept hugging it. For several nights. With zero shame.


    Fabrizio nodded. He got it. ¡®That golden hue is one-of-a-kind.¡¯


    ¡®Right? It¡¯s better than actual gold. And the lustre... God, it¡¯s like velvet.¡¯


    ¡®I know a few pearl farms in Broome. Sourcing them wouldn¡¯t be hard. But the cost...¡¯ He hesitated. ¡®You know the budget¡¯s tight right now.¡¯


    I sighed. ¡®Yeah. Maybe we stick with Akoyas. Can¡¯t go wrong with the ssics.¡¯


    ¡®Your fianc¨¦¡¯s an investor, isn¡¯t he?¡¯


    ¡®I think so?¡¯ I said, a bit vague. With all Ashton¡¯s businesses, it was hard to keep track.


    Although... he¡¯d bought Nyx Collective for me. Did that count?


    ¡®Any chance he¡¯d be interested in Valmont & Cie?¡¯ Fabrizio¡¯s tone was light, casual.


    ¡®I¡¯d have to ask. Are you hoping he¡¯ll invest?¡¯


    ¡®At this point, I¡¯d wee a divine miracle¡ªor a solid injection of capital. The bankers are basically living on my doorstep. I¡¯d like to get home without tripping over one.¡¯


    I blinked. ¡®I didn¡¯t realise it was that bad.¡¯


    Everyone knew Valmont had cash flow issues, but I assumed it was manageable. This was a well-established house. They must have assets, property... things they could leverage.


    ¡®We¡¯re not going under tomorrow, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re worried about,¡¯ Fabrizio said with a shrug.


    Louis-Fran?ois and Peter Carl had disappeared inside the caf¨¦. I caught sight of Peter craning over the ice cream counter like a kid on a sugar hunt.


    Fabrizio led me to a table on the pavement and ordered two ces caf¨¦ li¨¦geois.


    He picked up the thread like he hadn¡¯t missed a beat. ¡®If you were part-owner of Valmont, maybe Mr Laurent would be a bit more... motivated to see us seed.¡¯


    Third time in two days he¡¯d brought up the joint venture idea. I was starting to think this cash flow issue was more urgent than he let on.


    I liked Fabrizio. He had an eye for design, a solid name in the business, and his work was genuinely elegant.


    And as a person, he was charming, polite to a fault.


    But none of that meant I¡¯d throw millions of euros at him just because he asked nicely.


    ¡®Could you send me thepany¡¯s financial reports for the past five years? I¡¯ll need to go through them first, just to get a sense of things,¡¯ I said.


    ¡®Sure.¡¯ Fabrizio¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡®I¡¯ll email them to you tonight. They¡¯re confidential, as I¡¯m sure you understand.¡¯


    ¡®Of course. Though, do you mind if I ask a financial analyst to look them over with me? I¡¯m hopeless with numbers.¡¯ Even back in school, I¡¯d rather run a marathon than solve for eigenvalues.


    Fabrizio hesitated.

 Chapter 249 - 250 Mira: Mystery Woman

    <h4>Chapter 249: Chapter 250 Mira: Mystery Woman</h4>


    Finally, Fabrizio said, ¡®That¡¯s fine. Just keep them private, that¡¯s all.¡¯


    He perked up noticeably after lunch, and I liked to think I had something to do with that.


    I nned to show Ashton the reports tonight. Who says a fianc¨¦ can¡¯t double as your financial analyst?


    If he said everything checked out, I¡¯d invest in Valmont & Cie. I had enough money¡ªwell, technically Ashton¡¯s money, but he¡¯d said it was mine to spend however I wanted. Still, I¡¯d run it by him first.


    The afternoon drifted by pleasantly. Paris lived up to its reputation as the gourmet capital of Europe. Fabrizio picked a restaurant with zero Michelin stars, and I still ended up going back for seconds.


    Okay, fine. Thirds. Plus two slices of cake. The mille-feuille alone could make a grown woman weep.


    Which exined why I asked Fabrizio to drop me off a few blocks from the hotel. That, of course, meant offering an awkward exnation for why I¡¯d moved out of the lovely, work-adjacent house he¡¯d set up for me and into a hotel.


    I couldn¡¯t exactly say ¡®Ashton made me.¡¯ Though that¡¯s what happened.


    Thankfully, Fabrizio was too polite to pry. He just smiled in that painfully gracious way and let me off the hook.


    I thanked him for the lift, said goodnight, and walked the rest of the way to help digestion.


    ¡®Keep eating like this and you¡¯ll need a bigger wedding dress,¡¯ I told myself.


    Then it hit me¡ªI had no idea what my wedding dress even looked like.


    Ashton and I had set the date, and that was the sum total of my involvement. Then I¡¯d flown to Paris.


    So... who was sorting out the dress? Shouldn¡¯t there be fittings? Measurements? Fabric choices? When was I meant to do that? There were two months to go. That was enough time... right?


    Now that I thought about it, I hadn¡¯t even asked Ashton who he was inviting.


    My list had about three people: Yvaine, and maybe a couple of colleagues.


    Neither of my parents was on the list: one hated me, and the other was in jail.


    Ashton¡¯s family situation wasn¡¯t much better: his dad was faking illness to avoid being shipped to some godforsaken post in Africa, and his stepmother had finally learnt to keep quiet and stay out of sight.


    I doubted he¡¯d want either of them there. And if he did, he¡¯d find a way to keep them on a leash.


    Yvaine was obviously going to be my maid of honour. I hadn¡¯t asked her, but it went without saying. Just like I¡¯d raise hell if I wasn¡¯t hers.


    But Ashton¡¯s best man? Maybe Cassian. They were close. But Cassian was Yvaine¡¯s ex, and those two still had leftover beef. Her new boyfriend¡ªthe young, painfully hot inte sensation Cade Lawson¡ªwas bound to be there too.


    Ex meets current. Cue drama.


    I pictured it and realised, to my horror, I was actually looking forward to it.


    Not that I wanted a disaster, but a bit of chaos at a wedding made it memorable, didn¡¯t it?


    ¡®You¡¯re insane,¡¯ was Yvaine¡¯s response when I rang her and shared my thoughts. ¡®If anyone causes a scene at my wedding, they¡¯re cut from my life. Permanently. And that¡¯s me being generous.¡¯


    ¡®It was just a passing thought,¡¯ I said. ¡®Not like I WANT it to happen.¡¯


    ¡®Getting cold feet?¡¯


    ¡®What? No. Why would you say that?¡¯ I frowned, suddenly remembering Ashton asking me the same thing just days ago.


    ¡®You¡¯d rather daydream about a possible fistfight than focus on your actual wedding.¡¯


    ¡®I said it was just a thought.¡¯ I was feeling a touch defensive.


    ¡®You haven¡¯t sent out the invites.¡¯


    ¡®Ashton¡¯s sorting that. You know I¡¯ve got work.¡¯


    ¡®You haven¡¯t even asked me to be your maid of honour.¡¯


    ¡®You ARE my maid of honour. That¡¯s so obvious, it doesn¡¯t need saying.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re missing the point.¡¯


    ¡®Which is?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re just waiting for the wedding to happen, like some passive bystander, instead of the bride. Other women go full-on bridezi with only two months left. You don¡¯t even care if the dress fits.¡¯


    ¡®Ashton¡¯s handling it. I trust him¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Yeah, yeah, I know. He¡¯s got taste, he¡¯s got connections, he¡¯s run a business empire. Surely he can stage-manage a wedding in his sleep. That¡¯s not the point. It¡¯s always Ashton this, Ashton that. Where¡¯s your hand in any of it, Mira?¡¯


    ¡®I...¡¯ I got up and stepped out onto the balcony.


    I¡¯d had a shower after getting in, and the night air was sharp.


    Still, I felt suddenly flushed, like I couldn¡¯t breathe. I needed the cold.


    ¡®What¡¯s the matter? Cat got your tongue? Wi-Fi cut out? Or did I just hit a nerve?¡¯


    ¡®You don¡¯t have to sound so bloody smug about it,¡¯ I muttered.


    ¡®That¡¯s what friends are for, darling. To burst your bubble when you get cocky and p some sense into you when you¡¯re being blind.¡¯


    I breathed in the night air, scented faintly with lcs and wisteria. ¡®Fine. I¡¯ve not really been paying attention to the wedding. There, I said it. But it doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m getting cold feet, all right?¡¯


    ¡®You trying to convince me or yourself?¡¯


    ¡®I¡ª¡¯ My gaze drifted towards the street, and I paused.


    A car had pulled up outside the building. Not Ashton¡¯s red convertible, but it was definitely him stepping out of the front passenger seat.


    Then the driver stepped out too.


    A tall, curvy blonde in a fitted red dress that made it impossible to pretend she wasn¡¯t stunning. Even from eight floors up. Even in crap lighting.


    I couldn¡¯t see her face properly, but the way she carried herself¡ªthe clothes, the heels, the way she moved¡ªmade it painfully clear she was the kind of woman who didn¡¯t get ignored.


    And right now, that goddess was wrapping her arms around Ashton¡¯s waist and looking up at him like she was expecting a kiss.


    ¡®Hello? Mira? You still there?¡¯ Yvaine said through the phone. ¡®Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re ying the bad signal card again. You¡¯re not in a tunnel. Don¡¯t dodge the subject.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not. I¡¯ll call you back.¡¯ I hung up.


    I don¡¯t know what possessed me, but I raised my phone and snapped a photo of Ashton and his mystery woman.

 Chapter 250 - 251 Ashton: Unsaid Things

    <h4>Chapter 250: Chapter 251 Ashton: Unsaid Things</h4>


    Something was off.


    I knew it the moment I walked in.


    Mira wasn¡¯t curled up on the sofa bingeing dramas or tucked in bed with her phone.


    She was sitting at her desk, back to me, staring at herputer.


    But the real giveaway was, she didn¡¯t kiss me when I came through the door. That had be our thing since the engagement.


    I bent down for a kiss.


    She turned her face away.


    ¡®You smell like wine. Go shower, brush your teeth, get ready for bed. It¡¯ste.¡¯


    ¡®I had a couple of drinks,¡¯ I admitted.


    She made a vague sound that meant absolutely nothing.


    Even after I came out of the bathroom¡ªfreshly scrubbed, de-wined, and slightly hopeful¡ªshe was still at her desk.


    ¡®Aren¡¯t youing to bed? It¡¯s nearly eleven.¡¯ I nced at the screen. Not jewellery design software, just lines of numbers. ¡®You¡¯re reading financial reports now?¡¯


    She finally turned to face me. ¡®About that... I¡¯ve got a favour to ask.¡¯


    ¡®Sure. And stop calling it a favour. You know I¡¯d do anything for you. We¡¯re married.¡¯


    ¡®Are we, though?¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯ I pulled back.


    Something was definitely wrong.


    ¡®Are we really married? I mean, in the eyes of the public?¡¯


    ¡®The announcement went out weeks ago. Don¡¯t make me dig out the certificates.¡¯ I studied her face.


    She was blinking too fast, biting her lower lip¡ªshe always did that when she was stressed or unsure.


    Right. Cold feet. Or at the very least, ate-onset case of pre-wedding jitters.


    ¡®To our friends and families¡ªokay, maybe not the family part¡ªbut to our friends, it doesn¡¯t feel real. Even Yvaine keeps pestering me to confirm her as maid of honour.¡¯ Mira gave a tired smile. ¡®She wants it in writing. As if I¡¯d pick anyone else.¡¯


    I nearly said, ¡®Maybe it¡¯s because she thinks you¡¯re not taking the wedding seriously,¡¯ but thought better of it. That¡¯d only make things worse.


    So I kept my mouth shut.


    ¡®Anyway, I got asked out today.¡¯ Her smile turned sheepish.


    ¡®You¡¯re wearing a ring,¡¯ I said, instantly on guard. ¡®Was it Fabrizio? Wouldn¡¯t put it past a Frenchman.¡¯


    ¡®Not him. Someone else at thepany. He didn¡¯t know¡ªI¡¯d taken the ring off because I was using theser cutter.¡¯


    The ring was back on her finger now. That soothed me. A little.


    I liked that she told me things like this. It meant she trusted me.


    But the darker part of me¡ªthe part that hadn¡¯t unlearned jealousy¡ªwas unsettled.


    She didn¡¯t even flinch when she told me. Either she knew I wouldn¡¯t be upset, or she knew I would, and didn¡¯t care.


    Neither option sat well.


    ¡®Anyway, that was my day. How about you? Anyone hit on you?¡¯ she asked, tone light. She looked up at me, backlit by the streemp outside the window,shes shadowing her eyes. Hard to read her.


    My mind jumped to dinner, to Lea¡¯s tears.


    She¡¯d been part of the founding team when I started up in Wessexia, but we hadn¡¯t met in person for years, despite her now being CEO of Titanova.


    All our meetings since had been video calls¡ªformal, clipped, distant.


    I knew it was her way of telling me she was still pissed.


    She thought I¡¯d bailed on thepany, leaving her and the gang to carry it alone while I faded into a background shareholder role.


    I got it. She wasn¡¯t the only one who felt that way, just the most vocal.


    So I kept my distance.


    Still, it stung when she didn¡¯t invite me to her wedding.


    Over time, we¡¯d let the silence stretch. Updates about each other came second-hand, via Olivier or Kylian.


    The asional holiday card. That was it.


    Which made it all the more shocking when she confided in me over dinner¡ªtold me what her husband had done.


    Mira was still watching me. Her bare face made her look younger than twenty-four. Like a uni student still figuring life out.


    She was waiting for an answer.


    Lea¡¯s name reached the back of my throat. But I didn¡¯t say it.


    Would it help Lea to hear about someone else¡¯s experience? Hers and Mira¡¯s weren¡¯t the same, though.


    I knew Mira had ended things with Rhys after he pped her. Just once¡ªbut once was enough. She¡¯d told me everything. Her stance on domestic violence was zero tolerance. I agreed.


    But Lea? She was still with Pierre Marchand, even after telling me all the shit he¡¯d pulled¡ªhitting her when drunk or angry, stalking her when he thought she was cheating.


    I told her¡ªno, demanded¡ªthat she divorce him. Right then and there.


    But Lea, usually so sharp, so decisive, hesitated.


    She still loved him, she said. And after every incident, he¡¯d cry, beg, swear it¡¯d never happen again.


    I¡¯d wanted to shake her. How could someone so smart fall for that? Believe a man like that would change?


    ¡®No. No one hit on me,¡¯ I finally said.


    Lea was a friend in need. Not a woman trying to get in my bed.


    ¡®Oh,¡¯ Mira said. Then turned back to her screen.


    ¡®How was your tour?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®It was fine. We walked around the town, had dinner at a ce with a live fish tank. I saw the biggest crab of my life. You?¡¯


    ¡®Dinner with some old friends.¡¯


    ¡®You inviting them to the wedding?¡¯


    ¡®Who?¡¯ I was still stuck in my thoughts.


    ¡®Your old friends. I¡¯d like to meet some of them.¡¯


    ¡®You will.¡¯ At the wedding. Probably. ¡®They¡¯ve got the invites.¡¯


    I stood behind her, watching her work. Still thinking about Lea.


    Should I bring it up? Maybe Mira would understand Lea¡¯s rationale better, being a woman. But... would it reopen old wounds? Mentioning Rhys never sat right, even now.


    ¡®Need help with that?¡¯ I asked.


    Mira hated numbers. Anything beyond a quadratic equation made her head ache.


    ¡®No, I¡¯m fine. This is kind of confidential anyway,¡¯ she said, not looking up.


    ¡®Aren¡¯t youing to bed? It¡¯ste.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll work a bit more. You go ahead.¡¯


    I waited. Stayed up.


    Eventually, she shut down theputer and climbed into bed.


    I pulled her into my arms, kissed her forehead, then her cheek.


    When my hand slipped to her pyjama buttons, she rolled away.


    ¡®I¡¯m tired. Not tonight.¡¯

 Chapter 251 - 252 Mira: Spreadsheets and Suspicion

    <h4>Chapter 251: Chapter 252 Mira: Spreadsheets and Suspicion</h4>


    I woke with a pounding headache, a heartbeat in my ears, and a general hatred for everything.


    Valmont & Cie¡¯s financial statements came in at over a thousand pages¡ªfive years¡¯ worth of bnce sheets, ie reports, graphs, tables, the works.


    On my own, I¡¯d need weeks to get through them. Even longer to make sense of it all.


    I should¡¯ve asked Ashton for help.


    I¡¯d nned to.


    But when he came back, something stopped me.


    Okay, fine, I knew what stopped me. I just didn¡¯t want to admit it.


    I was angry with him.


    I saw him getting out of a car that wasn¡¯t his, watched a woman in a red dress approach him and wrap her arms around him.


    They might have kissed. They might not have. The awning blocked my view.


    Still, even if they didn¡¯t¡ªhell, even if it was one of those polite French kisses on the cheek¡ªshouldn¡¯t Ashton, as a married or nearly-married man, know better?


    I shake hands with Fabrizio, sure, but I wouldn¡¯t let him kiss me. Cultural norms or not.


    So why didn¡¯t Ashton keep his distance?


    And if he thought there was nothing wrong, why didn¡¯t he tell me about her?


    I¡¯d told him about the guy who hit on me¡ªwhich, fine, was true, but it happened on my first day at Valmont, not yesterday.


    Still, wasn¡¯t that a hint? Wasn¡¯t I basically saying, ¡®Look, I¡¯m honest with you¡ªcan you be the same with me?¡¯


    Either he didn¡¯t catch the hint, or he did and chose to ignore it.


    I was tempted to pull out my phone and confront him with the photo. But that felt petty. Jealous. Stalker-ish.


    And shouldn¡¯t he be the one to bring it up? Like he had with Rowan Hale, when she tried to mislead the public into thinking they were together?


    Where was that openness now? What made Red Dress Woman different?


    Too many questions. Not enough answers.


    No wonder I barely slept.


    Not that I dared toss or turn¡ªthen he¡¯d know I was awake, and that¡¯d just lead to more questions.


    I stared at the ceiling and counted cheniers until my eyes finally shut.


    ¡®Morning,¡¯ Ashton said.


    I rolled over to face him.


    How could he look so alert at 6 a.m.?


    But the slight shadows under his eyes gave him away. He hadn¡¯t slept well either.


    ¡®Serves you right,¡¯ I thought.


    ¡®Morning.¡¯


    I dragged myself out of bed. The headache was still there, pulsing harder when I nced at myptop. I quickly looked away and promised myself I wouldn¡¯t touch the statements until after breakfast.


    ¡®What¡¯s your n today? Also, you haven¡¯t told me how long you¡¯re staying,¡¯ I asked, sipping coffee and nibbling a croissant.


    ¡®You that eager to get rid of me? I¡¯ve been here two days.¡¯


    ¡®No. But Skyline probably needs you, and I don¡¯t want you staying just for me. It makes me feel guilty. Like I¡¯m dragging you down.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re not. And I¡¯ve got some business here to handle.¡¯


    The flicker of something grim in his eyes made it clear: this wasn¡¯t the usual kind of business.


    ¡®I want you to meet a designer,¡¯ Ashton said. ¡®I gave him your measurements. He¡¯s made you a wedding dress. Try it on. If you hate it, we¡¯ll find someone else.¡¯


    ¡®Sure. It¡¯s Friday. I finish early. Can we go today?¡¯


    ¡®Of course. Pick you up at four?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll meet you here instead.¡¯


    After breakfast, he had to leave early to take care of that mysterious ¡®business¡¯.


    The man who drove me to work was unfamiliar, but I was used to Ashton summoning new staff out of thin air.


    The driver kept sneaking looks at me in the mirror. I noticed, could¡¯ve called him out on it, but decided he was probably just curious about his boss¡¯s wife.


    In his office, when I told Fabrizio I was seriously considering investing in Valmont, he looked like he might leap over the desk and kiss me.


    ¡®It¡¯ll still take me a few days to get through the statements,¡¯ I said. ¡®My, ah, ountant¡¯s busy at the moment.¡¯


    ¡®Of course, take all the time you need. Ask me anything. Although...¡¯


    I got the hint. ¡®Don¡¯t worry. We¡¯ll sign the deal before I leave Paris.¡¯


    Fabrizio gave me the whitest, widest grin I¡¯d ever seen.


    Valmont had an early Friday policy¡ªpeople started disappearing after lunch.


    Back at the hotel, I downed two espressos and forced myself to open theptop.


    I focused on the cash flow statements¡ªValmont¡¯s main issue.


    I tried to focus. But words like ¡®depreciation¡¯, ¡®amortisation¡¯, and ¡®EBITDA¡¯ started melting on the screen.


    I physically held my eyelids open with my fingers and zeroed in on cash from operations. It looked solid. Positive, and trending up.


    No red gs so far.


    I called Priya. ¡®How¡¯s the studio?¡¯


    ¡®Fine. We had some walk-ins wanting custom jewellery. I told them you were away on business, took their numbers, said we¡¯d get back to them.¡¯


    ¡®Good. What about online orders?¡¯


    ¡®Stilling in. New orders have slowed, though. The manufacturer says they need more time to source the stones for our designs. So we might get a backlog. I¡¯ve reached out to other OEMs.¡¯


    ¡®I know. But don¡¯t rush. The current manufacturer¡¯s reliable. Their quality is consistent. I¡¯ll need to vet any new ones myself.¡¯


    ¡®Got it.¡¯


    ¡®How are the new assistants doing?¡¯


    ¡®Still getting the hang of things. Admin and customer service are fine. I still have to handle most of the custom orders¡ªit¡¯s the jargon.¡¯ Priya hesitated. ¡®I¡¯ve been studying jewellery design books. Trying to get up to speed. But when the manufacturer said ¡°Dora polish¡±, I knew he didn¡¯t mean the fish, but that¡¯s about it.¡¯


    Iughed. ¡®It¡¯s fine. You¡¯ll get there. Look up Oppi Untracht¡¯s book¡ªit¡¯s basically the jeweller¡¯s bible.¡¯


    ¡®Will do.¡¯


    ¡®Has anyone been bothering you?¡¯


    ¡®No. If you mean Daniel¡ªhe hasn¡¯t been back since he found out you were in Paris. Though...¡¯ She lowered her voice. ¡®I don¡¯t think he¡¯s given up.¡¯


    ¡®Ignore him. If he shows up, call the police. I¡¯ll be back in two weeks. Hold the fort.¡¯


    I promised her amission bump and hung up before she got emotional.


    ¡®Back to numbers,¡¯ I muttered, staring at the screen. ¡®Speaking of numbers...¡¯


    I closed the Valmont file and opened a different email.


    When Ashton returned, I handed him the freshly printed document.


    ¡®Take a look.¡¯


    He picked it up. ¡®What¡¯s this?¡¯


    ¡®Prenup.¡¯

 Chapter 252 Ashton: Planning the Exit Before the Entrance

    <h4>Chapter 252: Chapter 252 Ashton: nning the Exit Before the Entrance</h4>


    She said ¡®prenup¡¯. I heard ¡®divorce¡¯.


    I stared at the document in my hands. ¡®Why?¡¯


    ¡®Isn¡¯t it standard practice? You gave me something to sign when we got fake married.¡¯


    ¡®Exactly. ¡°Fake¡± being the operative word. This isn¡¯t.¡¯ My voice barely rose above the roar in my ears.


    What was she ying at? Drawing up an escape route before we¡¯d even made it to the aisle? Did she really have that little faith in us?


    ¡®I thought you liked contracts.¡¯ She sounded genuinely baffled, even a bit hurt. ¡®It protects both our interests. I don¡¯t get why you¡¯re so worked up about it.¡¯


    I kept my eyes on the document. If I looked at her, she¡¯d see too much.


    ¡®Will you at least skim it? We can change anything you¡¯re not happy with.¡¯


    Skim it? All I wanted to do was rip the bloody thing into confetti and scatter it to the wind.


    Still, I sat down and flipped open the first page.


    Most of it read like a remix of the contract I¡¯d made her sign for our fake marriage¡ªclearly, Mira had studied my ybook.


    But the real kicker was in the assets section. I had to re-read it to make sure I wasn¡¯t hallucinating.


    If we divorced on neutral terms, Mira would walk away with nothing¡ªno settlement, no jewellery, no shares in Nyx Collective¡ªand she¡¯d buy out my stake in Mira Joie at market price.


    A clean break.


    It was allid out in in, emotionlessnguage. To any outsider, it would look not just fair, but generous. Amicable, even.


    If I weren¡¯t the one being cut out.


    ¡®How long have you been working on this?¡¯ I asked, keeping my voice level.


    ¡®Not long. Two, maybe three days? I got mywyer friend to draft it. He did most of the work.¡¯


    ¡®Finn Carter?¡¯


    She nodded, smiling. ¡®He gave me the friends and family discount.¡¯


    Brilliant. Finn Carter. The same guy who took her libel case against Rhys for free, who took her out to lunch, who looked at her like he¡¯d love nothing more than to rip off his shirt and offer her his heart on a tter.


    ¡®Looks like Finn¡¯s thought of everything,¡¯ I said coolly, tamping down the fury rising in my throat.


    We hadn¡¯t even been properly engaged for two weeks and she already had an exit strategy.


    ¡®He¡¯s good at what he does,¡¯ Mira said breezily. Either she didn¡¯t notice my tone or she didn¡¯t care. ¡®But you can still make changes.¡¯


    ¡®It says here that if I cheat, or if the break-up¡¯s my fault, you get Nyx Collective. You think I¡¯m going to cheat on you?¡¯


    She gave a sheepish shrug. ¡®It¡¯s just a safeguard. These things have to beprehensive. It¡¯s not personal. Look, there¡¯s also a use for if I cheat.¡¯


    I tossed the document onto the coffee table. ¡®I¡¯m not signing it.¡¯


    ¡®Why not?¡¯ she asked, staring at me.


    I didn¡¯t have an answer I could say out loud.


    Mira was only doing what I¡¯d taught her¡ªprotect yourself first.


    Wasn¡¯t I the one who showed her the first contract? The one that turned love into a business deal?


    So why did it feel like a p in the face now that she¡¯d learned to do it better than me?


    My thoughts drifted to Lea. The contrast was jarring. When I met her earlier, she wouldn¡¯t even let me speak to that violent bastard she married. The woman sobbing into her winest night was gone. I had to pry information about the guy out of Kylian.


    She¡¯d had no prenup. Which made things messy. Even if Lea finally agreed to a divorce, it¡¯d be a long, bitter slog. Kylian said Pierre¡¯s family would fight it tooth and nail.


    Mira, on the other hand, had everything locked down. Bulletproof.


    Two women, two extremes. And somehow, both left me furious.


    ¡®Maybe we can talk about thister,¡¯ Mira said, backing down. ¡®Didn¡¯t you say we¡¯re seeing a designer today? I¡¯m excited.¡¯


    ¡®Are you really?¡¯ How could she be excited about wedding dresses when she¡¯d already nned for the divorce?


    ¡®Of course. Who doesn¡¯t like new clothes? I looked up his portfolio. Valmont & Cie might even coborate with him. Haute couture and fine jewellery¡ªnatural ymates, right?¡¯


    ¡®And if we divorce, do you keep the wedding dress?¡¯ I asked, sharper than I meant to.


    ¡®I don¡¯t know. What¡¯s the prenup say?¡¯ She turned to me. ¡®Oh, you¡¯re still mad?¡¯


    ¡®d you¡¯ve noticed.¡¯


    ¡®But I don¡¯t get why. And you won¡¯t exin.¡¯ Her back was up now, I could tell. ¡®You know, the whole strong, silent routine¡¯s out of fashion. We prefer men who speak up these days. If you¡¯ve got something to say, say it¡ªinstead of brooding like you¡¯ve forgotten how to use your mouth.¡¯


    ¡®When I gave you that contractst year, you took days to think it over. This time, it took what¡ªtwo days after the engagement for you to start working on an exit use? You called yourwyer before you even picked a venue. If I hadn¡¯t brought up the designer, would you have just bought a dress off the rack? I hear most women find that an insult.¡¯


    ¡®So this is about me not nning the wedding?¡¯ Mira threw her hands up. ¡®You and Yvaine both. What¡¯s with this idea that if the bride¡¯s not micromanaging the whole thing, it means she doesn¡¯t care? It¡¯s like saying if a woman doesn¡¯t cook, she doesn¡¯t love her husband. Outdated crap. Fine, you want the truth? I don¡¯t care much about the wedding. There. Happy?¡¯


    She kept going. ¡®We¡¯re already married. We¡¯ve gone public. I don¡¯t see the point of a big ceremony. But if it matters to you, I¡¯ll do it. I¡¯ll book the venue, send the invites, shout at the florists and caterers and whoever else until it¡¯s all perfect. Is that what you want?¡¯


    I pinched the bridge of my nose. The pressure behind my eyes was starting to throb.


    ¡®No. That¡¯s not what I want. I¡¯ll handle the logistics. I just don¡¯t want you prepping the parachute before you¡¯ve even boarded the ne.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s not a parachute!¡¯ she snapped, then caught herself. Took a deep breath. ¡®It¡¯s like insurance. You buy it when you fly¡ªyou don¡¯t PLAN to crash, it¡¯s justmon sense.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t buy ne tickets. I have a ne.¡¯


    That tripped her up for a second. Then she clenched her jaw. ¡®You know that¡¯s not the bloody point.¡¯


    ¡®I get your point.¡¯ I just didn¡¯t agree with it.


    ¡®So you¡¯re not signing?¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯


    ¡®Fine. Your loss.¡¯


    ¡®Will you still go to the dress fitting?¡¯


    She rolled her eyes. ¡®I¡¯m tempted to say no, but you¡¯ll only twist it into proof I don¡¯t care about the wedding. So yes. I¡¯ll go.¡¯


    ¡®The car¡¯s¡ª¡¯ My phone rang.


    I nced at the caller ID. Declined it.


    ¡®We could grab dinner after¡ª¡¯


    It rang again. Same name. I declined.


    Then it rang a third time. Relentless.


    ¡®You should take that,¡¯ Mira said, watching me. ¡®Looks serious.¡¯

 Chapter 253 Ashton: No Room at the Ritz

    <h4>Chapter 253: Chapter 253 Ashton: No Room at the Ritz</h4>


    I tore down Rue de Rivoli, swerved past Boulevard Haussmann, and headed for the 8th arrondissement, probably broke half a dozen trafficws on the way.


    My car screeched to a stop in front of the H?tel za Ath¨¦n¨¦e. I jumped out, tossed the keys to the valet, blew past the smiling concierge trying to greet me, and jabbed the lift button.


    Lea¡¯s screams still rang in my ears.


    She¡¯d sounded terrified on the phone. There hadn¡¯t been time to think¡ªjust act.


    The lift crawled upwards. Agonisingly slow.


    When the doors finally opened, I stepped out into a softly lit hallway, carpeted, perfumed, and decorated to tasteful perfection.


    But no amount of piped jazz or high-end fragrance could cover the drunken yelling or the reek of stale booze.


    Pierre Marchand was mming his fists against the door of room 602, knuckles bleeding onto his monogrammed shirt cuffs, not that he gave a shit.


    I grabbed his shoulders and spun him around to face me.


    Even flushed with rage and alcohol¡ªand whatever else he¡¯d taken¡ªhe still had that annoyingly textbook-handsome face: blue eyes, high-bridged nose, thin lips, strong jaw.


    His eyes were bloodshot and rimmed red. ¡®Who the hell are you?¡¯ he slurred in French.


    I didn¡¯t answer. Just kept my grip firm so he couldn¡¯t keep hammering the door.


    ¡®Let go of me, you fuck!¡¯ he roared, spraying me with breath that stank of whisky and something more chemical.


    The lift dinged behind me. Fast, quiet footsteps approached.


    ¡®Boss,¡¯ one of the men said.


    ¡®Take him. Keep him contained. No phone calls.¡¯


    ¡®Understood.¡¯


    Pierre might¡¯ve dabbled in fencing, but that wasn¡¯t going to help him against four men built for realbat, not gym selfies.


    They hauled him into the lift, still kicking and iling.


    I looked up at the CCTV in the ceiling. Red lights blinked back at me, unblinking.


    Then I knocked. ¡®Lea. It¡¯s me. Ashton.¡¯


    The door flung open and Lea threw herself into my arms. ¡®Ash. Thank God you¡¯re here! Is he¡ª?¡¯ She was trembling.


    ¡®He¡¯s gone.¡¯ I stepped into the room behind her. ¡®Tell me what happened.¡¯


    Lea sat down on the ottoman. The carpet around it was littered with crumpled tissues. Her face was blotchy, eyes raw from crying. She stared at the floor.


    ¡®I... I called him after you left.¡¯


    ¡®When I specifically told you not to.¡¯


    ¡®I know. I¡¯m sorry.¡¯ She still wouldn¡¯t look at me. ¡®I just thought... if I told him what you told me... that if he really loved me, he¡¯d quit the drinking, the drugs. And if he couldn¡¯t, I¡¯d leave. I didn¡¯t know he was already in Paris. I thought...¡¯ She put her face in her hands. ¡®I don¡¯t know what I was thinking. I swear.¡¯


    ¡®You told him you were staying here?¡¯


    ¡®I didn¡¯t. But it didn¡¯t take him long to find out. The hotel owner¡¯s a family friend of his dad¡¯s.¡¯ She gave a bitter smile. ¡®That probably exins why no one came when I called security. I should be grateful they didn¡¯t just hand him a key.¡¯


    ¡®Pack your things.¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯


    ¡®You can¡¯t stay here.¡¯


    She stood up slowly, hesitantly. ¡®But... what about Pierre? Where is he?¡¯


    ¡®Contained. For now. But I can¡¯t keep him there long. The hotel knows I took him.¡¯ I¡¯d be hearing from the Marchand family any minute.


    She disappeared into the bathroom. When she returned, her face was washed, and she¡¯d changed into fresh clothes.


    ¡®Where are we going?¡¯


    I ran through the options.


    The Marchands had deeper roots in Paris than I ever would. Their family had been embedded here for centuries.


    ¡®What¡¯s your decision?¡¯ I looked at her. ¡®Still holding out hope for a reunion?¡¯


    If so, she wasn¡¯t worth the risk. I couldn¡¯t afford someone with that kind of vulnerability.


    Lea gave me a watery smile. ¡®I might¡¯ve been blind and in love, Ash. But I¡¯m not that blind. I¡¯ve made my decision. I¡¯m leaving him.¡¯


    ¡®For good?¡¯


    ¡®For good.¡¯


    ¡®Then you¡¯reing to Skyline. He won¡¯t be able to touch you there.¡¯


    She nodded. ¡®What about work?¡¯


    I gave her a look. ¡®You really think I don¡¯t know what goes on at Titanova? You don¡¯t need an office to do your job.¡¯


    Sheughed softly. ¡®Fair.¡¯


    I grabbed her suitcase and we checked out.


    ¡®Hope you had a pleasant stay. Where are you off to next?¡¯ the receptionist asked with a blinding smile.


    I stared at her until the smile faltered, then vanished. A pink flush spread over her cheeks. ¡®I just meant, so I could arrange a taxi.¡¯


    ¡®That won¡¯t be necessary.¡¯ I walked out with Lea.


    ¡®She probably has orders to follow us,¡¯ Lea said under her breath.


    ¡®I know.¡¯


    Which was why I took the long way round, zigzagging through different arrondissements until I was sure no one was tailing us.


    We arrived at Rue de l¡¯Abb¨¦ Gr¨¦goire just after ten.


    I led her up to the seventh floor and unlocked the door. ¡®I bought the building under another name. Pierre won¡¯t find you here.¡¯


    ¡®I should thank you, but I know you hate that,¡¯ she said, taking in the t. ¡®So¡ªhug?¡¯ She opened her arms.


    I didn¡¯t move. ¡®Get some rest. Order room service if you want.¡¯


    ¡®You haven¡¯t eaten either. Stay. Share a meal?¡¯


    ¡®I can¡¯t. In the morning, I¡¯ll introduce you to my wife.¡¯


    ¡®Your wife?¡¯ She blinked. ¡®Rusty mentioned it. I thought he was joking.¡¯


    ¡®He wasn¡¯t.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s just... hard to imagine you married. Of all the guys in the gang, you were the least likely.¡¯


    I wished Mira could¡¯ve heard that. Maybe then she¡¯d understand why I insisted on the wedding. Without a very public, very official ceremony, no one believed me when I said I had a wife.


    ¡®Goodnight. I¡¯ll see you in the morning.¡¯ I closed the door behind me and took the stairs up to the next floor.


    Mira was awake.


    ¡®How was the dress fitting?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®Who is she?¡¯ she asked at the same time.

 Chapter 254 Mira: So Much for Perfect

    <h4>Chapter 254: Chapter 254 Mira: So Much for Perfect</h4>


    ¡®Her name¡¯s Lea Marchand¡ªLea Lopez, once she¡¯s divorced. Her husband¡¯s a drunk, violent arsehole. He turned up at her hotel and wouldn¡¯t leave her alone. I had to get her out. She¡¯sing back to Skyline with me. He can¡¯t touch her there. His family¡¯s powerful and old-school. The divorce makes them look bad, so they¡¯ll try everything to make her back down...¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s voice was calm, unemotional. Like he was reading out a weather report.


    I caught some of the words, but most of it blurred into a low, distant hum.


    I was preupied with the feeling settling heavily in my chest.


    What I felt was panic.


    But not the usual kind.


    I was terrified by how calm I was. And how... relieved.


    I liked Ashton. That much was still true.


    But for the first time, I was certain¡ªI didn¡¯t love him.


    Or maybe I just didn¡¯t deserve to.


    He was too good to be true.


    If your boyfriend came homete, reeking of perfume and wine, after dinner with another woman, wouldn¡¯t you be at least a little angry?


    You would. If you cared.


    So why wasn¡¯t I?


    When Rowan Hale had tried to stir up gossip about her and Ashton, I hadn¡¯t felt jealous then either.


    I¡¯d told myself it was because he¡¯d shut it down quickly and made it clear he wasn¡¯t interested.


    I believed him. He wasn¡¯t the cheating type.


    But this? This was different.


    This woman, a head-turner in a red dress, wasn¡¯t just some singer looking to boost her profile. She was someone from his past. Someone with history. Someone he hadn¡¯t exactly rushed to tell me about.


    He¡¯d had dinner with her,e homete. Now he was cancelling our dress fitting to fly her back to Skyline.


    This was the same man who¡¯d used me of not taking our wedding seriously.


    If that¡¯s not a red g, what is?


    I should¡¯ve been livid. Jealous. Throwing things. Screaming.


    Instead, I felt... nothing.


    When I asked who she was, it was out of politeness. Mild curiosity, at best.


    No jealousy. No rage.


    Just the quiet, familiar sense of something slipping away.


    Of course. The dream was ending.


    I¡¯d been floatingtely¡ªFabrizio¡¯s invitation, Ashton¡¯s proposal¡ªit all felt too good to be true. Like winning the lottery, then finding buried treasure, then getting a call from a long-lost billionaire rtive with a mysterious will.


    And now, finally, the fantasy was cracking.


    Work was the only thing that felt real. I could hold the ne in my hand, I could measure its weight. But the rest? It never quite settled.


    ¡®She¡¯s just a friend,¡¯ Ashton said, meeting my eyes. ¡®An old friend. She runs Titanova.¡¯


    Whatever he saw in my face must¡¯ve rattled him.


    ¡®What¡¯s wrong?¡¯


    ¡®What? Nothing.¡¯ My knees buckled. I reached blindly for a chair and sat down hard. ¡®So, she¡¯s flying back to Skyline with you.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah. I¡¯ll have to cut my trip short.¡¯ He gave me a regretful look.


    ¡®It¡¯s fine.¡¯ I forced a smile. ¡®I get it.¡¯


    Of course I did.


    Rhys had been perfect¡ªfor Catherine.


    And he only ever had eyes for her.


    Ashton was perfect too. And now there was another woman. One he clearly cared about. One who only had to call, and he dropped everything to run to her.


    The other shoe had finally dropped.


    Yvaine and Ashton had called it cold feet.


    But it wasn¡¯t that.


    It wasn¡¯t wedding nerves ormitment issues.


    It was the gut-deep certainty that this wouldn¡¯tst. That it was never meant to.


    I didn¡¯t know why. I just knew.


    Perfect things didn¡¯t happen to people like me.


    Caroline and Franklin had been perfect parents¡ªfor Catherine.


    Rhys had been a perfect boyfriend¡ªfor Catherine.


    Ashton would be a perfect husband¡ªfor someone else.


    Any minute now, I half-expected Fabrizio to call and tell me his offer had been a misunderstanding, or a prank.


    ¡®Mira? Mira?¡¯


    ¡®Huh?¡¯ I blinked. Ashton was in front of me, his hands on my shoulders.


    ¡®You¡¯re crying.¡¯ He brushed my cheek with his thumb. It came away wet.


    ¡®Am I?¡¯ I rubbed my eyes. ¡®Must be the fumes.¡¯


    ¡®What fumes?¡¯


    ¡®I was using a butane micro torch earlier. The vapour stings.¡¯ I pushed myself up. ¡®I need the loo.¡¯


    I ducked into the bathroom, turned on the tap, and shoved my head under the cold water.


    Ashton¡¯s voice floated in. ¡®You all right?¡¯


    I straightened and looked at him. ¡®Fine.¡¯


    The water masked my pale face, hid the red in my eyes.


    He stared at me for a moment. ¡®If something¡¯s bothering you, you can tell me.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m fine. Really.¡¯ I clung to the same lie about the fumes. ¡®It¡¯ste. You should get some rest. You have a ne to catch.¡¯


    ¡®You never told me how the dress fitting went.¡¯


    I thought of the gown¡ªsilk crepe in ivory, draped off the shoulder with a structured bodice and a long, dramatic train, embroidered with tiny pearls and silver thread that shimmered when the light hit just right.


    ¡®It was perfect.¡¯


    Too bad I wouldn¡¯t get to wear it.

 Chapter 255 Mira: Waiting for the Other Shoe to Drop

    <h4>Chapter 255: Chapter 255 Mira: Waiting for the Other Shoe to Drop</h4>


    ¡®If you cut any deeper, you¡¯ll lose a finger.¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯ I looked up.


    Fabrizio gently took the precision de from my gloved hand. ¡®You¡¯re distracted. Not a great headspace for working with sharp objects.¡¯


    ¡®Sorry.¡¯ I stripped off the gloves and stood. ¡®Think I need some air.¡¯


    ¡®Come to Caf¨¦ Loufoque with me. I¡¯m dying for a noisette, and you could use a caffeine hit too.¡¯


    ¡®Sure.¡¯


    We stepped out of the workshop. Even with my mind elsewhere, something felt off.


    ¡®Where is everyone?¡¯ The open-n office was quieter than usual, half the desks empty.


    ¡®On leave,¡¯ Fabrizio said. ¡®April is always slow. Most people use up their annual holiday now.¡¯


    ¡®Oh.¡¯ I followed him into the lift. ¡®I¡¯ve never seen you take a day off.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m the boss. Can¡¯t afford those luxuries.¡¯ He smiled. ¡®But if you decide to stay, you can have mine. I¡¯ve got months¡¯ worth piled up.¡¯


    ¡®Still trying to poach me, huh?¡¯ I smiled back. ¡®Thanks, but I¡¯ve got Mira Joie.¡¯


    ¡®We could join forces.¡¯


    ¡®Funny you say that. I¡¯ve made up my mind¡ªI¡¯m signing the joint venture papers.¡¯


    ¡®You are?¡¯ His head snapped round. His eyes lit up. ¡®That¡¯s brilliant.¡¯


    I nodded. ¡®I¡¯d already decided. Just needed to shift some funds around.¡¯


    The money Dominic had been transferring to me on Ashton¡¯s orders every month was still untouched, sitting in a separate ount.


    Now that I was preparing for a future without Ashton, I was definitely not about to start using it.


    Between my savings and ie from the studio, I had enough to cover half the investment.


    ¡®This calls for a celebration,¡¯ Fabrizio said, veering off course and dragging me down a different street. ¡®Proper food. Not just coffee and croissants.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re paying.¡¯


    ¡®Of course.¡¯ He found a table, ordered for both of us. ¡®I¡¯ll send over the share purchase agreement this afternoon. Get awyer to look it over.¡¯


    ¡®Will do.¡¯


    He studied me. ¡®If I didn¡¯t know you better, I¡¯d think going into business with me had depressed you.¡¯


    I forced a smile. It felt fake, so I gave up and shrugged. ¡®It¡¯s not that. I¡¯m just tired.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ve been working you too hard,¡¯ he said, sounding guilty.


    ¡®No, I love the work.¡¯ I couldn¡¯t exactly tell him I had a feeling my engagement was circling the drain. So I said, ¡®I¡¯ll probably be spending more time in Paris. Might even move the studio here.¡¯


    ¡®Yes!¡¯ he said, actually snapping his fingers. I¡¯d never seen him do that. ¡®I wanted to bring it up, but figured I¡¯d sound too eager. You¡¯ve no idea how happy that makes me.¡¯


    I raised my ss. ¡®Cheers.¡¯


    At least Fabrizio¡¯s offer was real, solid. Something I could build on.


    Ashton had been back in Skyline for two days. We¡¯d called over the weekend, gone through the motions¡ª¡®How was your day?¡¯ ¡®Did you eat?¡¯ ¡®Sleep well?¡¯ ¡®Goodnight.¡¯


    But I could feel the performance on both ends.


    He seemed distracted. Like something was sitting heavy on his mind.


    A few times, he opened his mouth to speak. Then changed his mind.


    He had that look¡ªhesitant, guilty. Like someone about to say something they didn¡¯t want to say.


    I didn¡¯t push him.


    When he was ready, he¡¯d tell me.


    But the signs were all there. He¡¯d stopped chasing me about the wedding dress. Never asked for my guest list. The honeymoon chat had gone cold.


    Fabrizio, ever the gracious host, didn¡¯t pry, but he must¡¯ve sensed something.


    After a long lunch, we went back to the office.


    I signed the share agreement and transferred the money.


    Just like that, we were business partners.


    I shoved thoughts of Ashton into a mental drawer and got back to work, sketching out a new collection using plique-¨¤-jour enamelling.


    Work, work, work.


    It was the only thing keeping me steady right now.


    But once I left the office, I was back to being that hollow, floating version of myself¡ªadrift in a foreign city.


    Yvaine knew me too well. The silence on the phone barelysted a second before she pounced.


    ¡®Spill.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t want to.


    I¡¯d been dreading this. Yvaine had a way of putting into words things I couldn¡¯t bear to admit.


    But she wasn¡¯t the type to let it go.


    ¡®Tell me over the phone, or I¡¯ll fly to Paris and drag it out of you in person.¡¯


    ¡®I... I don¡¯t think there¡¯s going to be a wedding, after all.¡¯


    Silence.


    Then: ¡®Start from the beginning. No skipping.¡¯


    So I told her everything¡ªthe woman in the red dress, the almost-kiss, the sudden call that pulled him away, the way they¡¯d flown back to Skyline together.


    And the sinking feeling that this woman meant more to Ashton than anyone else ever had. Including me.


    ¡®He hasn¡¯t said anything,¡¯ I said. ¡®But I can feel it. A breakup¡¯sing.¡¯


    I heard footsteps on her end.


    ¡®You going somewhere?¡¯


    ¡®Just stepping onto the balcony,¡¯ she said. ¡®Need some air. Then I can tell you¡ª¡¯


    She paused.


    Then shouted, loud enough to burst an eardrum: ¡®YOU BLOODY IDIOT!¡¯

 Chapter 256 Mira: A Call from the Police

    <h4>Chapter 256: Chapter 256 Mira: A Call from the Police</h4>


    I rubbed my ear, sank into the nearest chair, and braced myself for a long, punishing lecture.


    Yvaine didn¡¯t disappoint.


    ¡®You ran off to Paris days after getting engaged. You¡¯ve barely lifted a finger for the wedding. Then you spotted some mystery woman in a red dress and immediately decided Ashton must be in love with her and the whole thing¡¯s off. You didn¡¯t even ask him. It¡¯s like you¡¯ve been waiting for something to go wrong, and she just gave you the perfect excuse. Whether anything¡¯s going on or not, you don¡¯t care. You just want out, and now you¡¯ve got a reason.¡¯


    I made a few nonmittal noises to prove I was still on the line. If I didn¡¯t, she might actually book an air taxi and fly to Paris to deliver her bollocking in person.


    But really, she wasn¡¯t saying anything I hadn¡¯t already clocked¡ªjust buried under a fewyers of self-delusion.


    She¡¯d lose her mind if I told her the full n. That I was thinking of relocating Mira Joie to Paris, which would only prove her theory that I¡¯d been halfway out the door long before Red Dress ever showed up.


    I put her on speaker and let the rant wash over me.


    By the time she paused for breath, I¡¯d finished a coffee, brushed my teeth, checked my email, changed into pyjamas, and crawled into bed.


    ¡®You¡¯re not nning to break up with Ashton over the phone, are you?¡¯ Her tone turned sharp.


    I was considering it. ¡®No.¡¯


    ¡®Liar.¡¯


    ¡®Fine, you caught me.¡¯


    ¡®I pity Ashton, I really do. Poor guy.¡¯


    ¡®I thought you were my friend. Aren¡¯t you supposed to be on my side?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m on the side of right, and you¡¯re in the wrong here. Completely wrong, Mira honey.¡¯


    Goosebumps prickled my arms. She only called me ¡®honey¡¯ when she was absolutely livid.


    ¡®You were supportive when I broke up with Rhys,¡¯ I said, a bit sulkily.


    ¡®Because he was a walking red g and heid hands on you. What¡¯s Ashton done? You¡¯re breaking up with him because you think¡ªand I stress ¡°think¡±¡ªhe might have feelings for another woman. You¡¯ve got no proof.¡¯


    ¡®There¡¯s the photo,¡¯ I said.


    ¡®Of a hug. Not a snog. Not a grope in the middle of the Champs-¨¦lys¨¦es. That wouldn¡¯t hold up in court.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not taking him to court.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t change the subject, Mirabelle Vance. You¡¯re a coward when ites to rtionships. Always have been. Rhys burned you once, and now you¡¯re convinced no good man could possibly love you. You were fine when it was fake. Even fine when you were just dating. But the second he puts a ring on your finger, you get cold feet and leg it.¡¯


    ¡®Thank you, Dr Freud,¡¯ I muttered, rubbing my temples. ¡®Now that you¡¯ve diagnosed me, got a prescription to go with it?¡¯


    ¡®Nope. Don¡¯t pin this on me. It¡¯s your mess, and you¡¯ve got to figure it out. Break up with him, stay with him, hire a dozen male strippers to help you cope, or hire a private eye to tail him. Your call. But it¡¯s got to be YOUR call.¡¯


    ¡®Thanks. Incredibly helpful, as always.¡¯


    ¡®I am helpful. I know you better than anyone, and I know when you¡¯re about to blow up your own life just because you¡¯re scared it might actually work out. If you love Ashton, talk to him. Ask him about Red Dress, tell him what¡¯s eating you, and maybe act like you care about your own bloody wedding. And if you don¡¯t...¡¯


    ¡®What if I don¡¯t?¡¯ I clutched the pillow tighter.


    ¡®Then you need to tell him. Be honest. Give the ring back, apologise, and move on.¡¯


    ¡®Easier said than done,¡¯ I mumbled.


    ¡®You asked for advice, I gave it. Now you¡¯re sulking.¡¯ I could practically hear her eyes rolling. ¡®Honestly, if you weren¡¯t my best friend, I¡¯d p you.¡¯


    ¡®Thanks, Yvie. I¡¯ll think about it.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯d better. I¡¯ve already picked out my maid of honour dress, and you¡¯re paying the deposit.¡¯


    I hung up, tossed my phone onto the nightstand, and groaned into the pillow.


    When it rang again, I assumed it was Round Two from Yvaine.


    But the number was unfamiliar.


    I declined it.


    It rang again.


    I declined it again. Probably some pushy telemarketer.


    But it kept ringing.


    ¡®Hello?¡¯ I snapped. If Parisian telemarketers were this relentless, I¡¯d cklist the entire country.


    ¡®Madame Mirabelle Vance?¡¯ The man¡¯s French ent was strong, though he spoke English.


    I didn¡¯t confirm. ¡®Who¡¯s asking?¡¯


    ¡®This is Inspector Alexandre Silva, from the Brigade financi¨¨re. I¡¯d like to speak with you regarding thepany Valmont & Cie, specifically Monsieur Fabrizio Marchetti.¡¯


    I sat up. ¡®You¡¯re a police officer?¡¯


    ¡®Yes.¡¯ He gave me his full name, rank, and department. ¡®You¡¯re wee to call our office to verify.¡¯


    ¡®I will,¡¯ I said, though I was already starting to believe him. ¡®What¡¯s this about?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯d prefer to discuss it in person. And I must ask that you not mention our conversation to Monsieur Marchetti.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re investigating him? What for?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯d rather not say over the phone.¡¯


    ¡®Well, if you expect me to meet, I need to know if I¡¯m a witness or a suspect. I don¡¯t have to meet you.¡¯


    A pause. Then: ¡®I can meet you at the caf¨¦ opposite your hotel. Public ce. Thirty minutes?¡¯


    I checked the time. 8:45 p.m.


    ¡®It¡¯s a bitte.¡¯


    ¡®I know. Apologies for the hour.¡¯ His tone turned faintly reproachful. ¡®But you and Monsieur Marchetti are nearly inseparable, dining together every day. It¡¯s been difficult to find a moment when you¡¯re alone.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t like his tone, but what I liked even less was what he¡¯d just implied. They¡¯d been watching us. Or rather, watching Fabrizio.


    Heart sinking, I got dressed, slipped my mace spray into my bag, and headed downstairs.


    Le Cygne Noir, the caf¨¦ across the street, was well lit, a few diners still lingering over espresso and cr¨¨me br?l¨¦e.


    A man in a brown jacket sat at a corner table, facing the door. Light brown hair, dark eyes, brown brogues. He might¡¯ve been attractive if he hadn¡¯t dressed like he¡¯d lost a bet with the colour beige.


    He stood as I approached.


    ¡®Madame Vance, thank you foring.¡¯


    I ignored the hand he offered.


    ¡®Let¡¯s skip the small talk. What do you want?¡¯

 Chapter 257 Mira: Fraud, Scam, Money Down the Drain

    <h4>Chapter 257: Chapter 257 Mira: Fraud, Scam, Money Down the Drain</h4>


    Inspector Silva clearly wasn¡¯t the chatty type.


    He skipped straight to business once he realised I wasn¡¯t in the mood for niceties.


    He handed me a file. ¡®I must ask you to keep everything you¡¯re about to read strictly confidential. Especially from Monsieur Marchetti¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Yeah, yeah, I get it,¡¯ I said, waving a hand. ¡®Not a word from me.¡¯


    The file was in French. With my sad excuse for French skills, I had to use a trantion app to even start understanding it. Silva didn¡¯t offer to help. He just sat there watching me wrestle with it like it was some kind of sadistic test.


    The more I read, the worse it got. For a second, I hoped the app was malfunctioning and spitting out nonsense.


    But I wasn¡¯t that lucky.


    I gged down a waiter and asked for the strongest coffee they had. I needed something industrial-strength.


    ¡®If you¡¯ve got this much evidence,¡¯ I said eventually, my voice sounding oddly detached, ¡®why haven¡¯t you just arrested him?¡¯


    If the file was urate¡ªand it certainly looked it¡ªFabrizio wasn¡¯t just fiddling the books. He was siphoning funds from other investors and running thepany straight into the ground. Turns out, being a design genius doesn¡¯t make you a business genius.


    The headache behind my eyes was back and getting worse by the second.


    Inspector Silva¡¯s voice, like his beige jacket, was dull but carried weight. The kind of tone that came from knowing people always listened when you spoke.


    ¡®We¡¯ve had Monsieur Marchetti under surveince. He¡¯s not a flight risk¡ªfor now. He¡¯s been desperately seeking investors and fresh capital to keep thepany afloat. If he manages to pull that off, no one will realise anything¡¯s wrong. Not until the new investors start asking for dividends. But then you arrived.¡¯


    He gave me a look that was polite on the surface but full of judgment.


    My spine stiffened. ¡®What did I do?¡¯


    ¡®You gave him the capital he needed.¡¯


    I thought of the joint venture. ¡®Didn¡¯t you say that kind of cash injection could save thepany?¡¯


    ¡®It could, if he used it to pay down overdue loans or repay the money he¡¯s already misappropriated. But he didn¡¯t.¡¯


    ¡®So what did he do with my money?¡¯


    Silva flipped through the file and pointed to a page with a string of numbers. ¡®Did he ask you to transfer the funds to this ount?¡¯


    I looked. ¡®Yes. What¡¯s wrong with it?¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s not a corporate ount. It¡¯s not even in his name. It belongs to a shellpany, supposedly legitimate, butpletely empty. The bank and thepany are both registered in the Cook Inds.¡¯


    My stomach dropped. ¡®Meaning?¡¯


    ¡®Meaning, he¡¯s nning to disappear. The Cook Inds have no extradition treaty with us. Once he¡¯s there, he¡¯s untouchable. So¡¯s the money.¡¯


    Five million euros, gone.


    No wonder he¡¯d pushed so hard for the joint venture. I thought he was passionate about our coboration. Turns out, I¡¯m just a soft touch with deep pockets.


    ¡®Is he still in town?¡¯


    ¡®Yes.¡¯


    ¡®Then why the hell haven¡¯t you arrested him?¡¯


    ¡®Because he¡¯s not nning to bolt just yet. He¡¯s contacted several potential investors¡ªpeople like you, who¡¯ve heard of his name but don¡¯t know what¡¯s really going on¡ªand he¡¯s drawing them in, slowly. You¡¯re the first to fall for his so-called joint venture, which is nothing more than a scam. We believe he¡¯ll run once he¡¯s pulled in around fifty million.¡¯


    My throat was dry and my hands were twitching from the caffeine and rising fury. ¡®If you knew he was scamming me, why didn¡¯t you warn me sooner?¡¯


    ¡®We didn¡¯t know for sure until he asked you to transfer funds to that ount. We needed to confirm where the money went. We¡¯re sorry.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t sound remotely sorry.


    ¡®Can I get my money back?¡¯


    ¡®Possibly. But not until the investigation isplete and he¡¯s been formally charged and convicted.¡¯


    I wanted to call Fabrizio right then and there, demand answers, demand my money. But what good would that do? He¡¯d know I knew, and he¡¯d run.


    ¡®So what exactly am I supposed to do now?¡¯


    ¡®You and Monsieur Marchetti appear to be close. We¡¯d like¡ª¡¯


    I cut him off with a re. ¡®What are you trying to imply?¡¯


    He raised a hand in mock surrender. ¡®I¡¯m not implying anything improper. Just that he¡¯s rxed around you, speaks freely. We haven¡¯t yet traced all the funds he¡¯s misappropriated. If we can find out where they¡¯ve gone, it¡¯ll strengthen the case. Make it harder for him to wriggle out of the charges.¡¯


    I snorted. ¡®Why don¡¯t you bug his office and t, then? I¡¯m sure the French police have gear for that.¡¯


    Unbothered, Silva replied, ¡®Madame Vance seems to have a cinematic view of police work. We can¡¯t wiretap a suspect¡¯s premises without a court order. There are procedures.¡¯


    ¡®Sounds like a ¡°you¡± problem.¡¯ I stood. ¡®I¡¯ve got thinking to do. Goodbye.¡¯


    ¡®We were hoping you¡¯d help us.¡¯


    ¡®Help you how? I can¡¯t even help myself.¡¯


    I was already turning over ideas. How could I confront Fabrizio and get the money back without tipping him off? If he sensed I knew, he¡¯d vanish. Simple as that.


    I thought of calling Ashton¡ªbut he¡¯d only ask why I hadn¡¯t told him sooner, why I didn¡¯t talk to him before investing, and probably follow it with, ¡®Told you so. Never trusted that prick.¡¯


    ¡®As I said, the money¡¯s likely gone through severalyers of ounts andnded in a foreign jurisdiction. We¡¯ll have to convince them to return it, which is never easy. If they do, it¡¯ll sit with our state¡¯s asset management office while the legal dust settles.¡¯


    The pressure in my skull was turning into a full-blown migraine. ¡®Just say it. The money¡¯s gone.¡¯


    ¡®Ordinarily, yes. But... there may be ways to shortcut the process.¡¯


    ¡®How?¡¯


    He gestured to the empty chair.


    I sat, shoulders stiff.


    ¡®Monsieur Marchetti has several personal ounts within our jurisdiction. We can freeze them. Once he¡¯s convicted, those funds could be redistributed to victims. Who¡¯s to say the money you gave him wasn¡¯t part of what¡¯s in those ounts?¡¯


    I narrowed my eyes. ¡®You¡¯re saying you can refund my five mil out of his personal stash?¡¯


    He nodded. ¡®It¡¯s... unconventional. If the irregrity¡¯s discovered, there will be consequences. I could be reprimanded or suspended. Which is why I¡¯d only consider it for someone who¡¯s been significantly helpful to the case.¡¯


    ¡®So if I don¡¯t y ball, I can kiss my money goodbye. That¡¯s what you are saying.¡¯


    He leaned back, the barest twitch of a smirk appearing. ¡®I believe the phrase is, ¡°You scratch my back, I¡¯ll scratch yours.¡±¡¯


    It didn¡¯t take me long to decide.


    ¡®What do you need me to do?¡¯

 Chapter 258 Ashton: Silence from Paris

    <h4>Chapter 258: Chapter 258 Ashton: Silence from Paris</h4>


    ¡®Penny for your thoughts.¡¯


    I turned from the floor-to-ceiling window. ¡®Nothing. Just thinking about work.¡¯


    Lea didn¡¯t buy it. ¡®Work doesn¡¯t make you look like that.¡¯


    ¡®Not my work. Mira¡¯s.¡¯


    I nced at the phone clenched in my hand. Mira had just texted to say she was extending her stay in Paris. She didn¡¯t say how long. Just that work was piling up, they were short-staffed, and she needed to pull her weight. As if to prove the point, when I called, she barely got two sentences out before cutting the call.


    Still, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling there was something she wasn¡¯t saying.


    It wasn¡¯t what she said¡ªit was how. Something in her tone. A kind of evasiveness.


    ¡®Ah, yes, the famous jewellery designer.¡¯ Lea tilted her chin towards the safe in the corner of the office. ¡®May I?¡¯


    I keyed in the code and unlocked it.


    She removed the top box, opened a velvet case, and lifted out a ne. ¡®What¡¯s this one called again?¡¯


    ¡®Veyra.¡¯


    ¡®Pretty name. Eliza ck wore it, didn¡¯t she? I remember the red carpet photos.¡¯ She put the ne away. ¡®Wish I¡¯d met your wife.¡¯


    We¡¯d left Paris before dawn. Mira was still asleep then.


    ¡®You will. At the wedding,¡¯ I said. Though, with each day that passed, and now with this dy, I was starting to doubt whether there¡¯d be one in June. Or at all.


    ¡®Not before that?¡¯ Lea asked. ¡®I was hoping to order something custom. I saw her portfolio online. Exactly my taste.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll let you know,¡¯ I said. ¡®How¡¯s the case going?¡¯


    Lea dropped into the chair in front of my desk and rubbed between her brows. ¡®Mywyer just filed the divorce petition. We¡¯re waiting on Pierre¡¯s response. But knowing him, he¡¯ll drag it out for years.¡¯ She waved her phone. ¡®I changed my number. He¡¯ll go ballistic once he gets served.¡¯


    ¡®He can¡¯t touch you here in Skyline.¡¯ This city was mine. ¡®In the meantime, you could start scoping out a Titanova office here.¡¯


    ¡®Here?¡¯ She sat up, surprised. ¡®I thought you didn¡¯t want us anywhere near your clean te.¡¯


    ¡®I never said that.¡¯ I just didn¡¯t want the wreckage of my past spilling into my present. But Titanova was legit now¡ªon paper, anyway. ¡®You¡¯d still be CEO.¡¯


    ¡®And you¡¯d still be the puppetmaster.¡¯ She shrugged. ¡®Fine by me. But I¡¯ll need time. And bodies. Kylian¡¯s stuck in Belgrade, Rusty¡¯s off chasing some woman in Medell¨ªn, and Simon¡¯s holding the fort in Eindhoven. I¡¯ll need someone to show me the ropes here. Someone who knows the yers. I don¡¯t want to trip over anyone¡¯s turf.¡¯


    ¡®LGH gets invited to half the business events in the city.¡¯ I rang Dominic and asked him to send over thetest calendar. ¡®There¡¯s a chamber ofmerce dinnering up. I¡¯ll get you in.¡¯


    ¡®Youing too?¡¯ Lea¡¯s mind was already turning gears.


    When it wasn¡¯t about her husband, she moved fast.


    ¡®I¡¯ll think about it.¡¯ I was half-tempted to fly to Paris that afternoon, just to see for myself what Mira was up to.


    If I¡¯d known she was staying longer, I¡¯d have insisted she take an assistant, never mind her protests. Right now, there was no one near her who could give me any insight.


    Well, there was Fabrizio. But I¡¯d rather chew ss than ask him for an update on my wife.


    I¡¯d thought about tapping my contacts in Paris, maybe asking someone to discreetly check in, but that would only make her dig her heels in once she found out.


    And yes, I knew she¡¯d been pulling awaytely. ming it on work.


    Maybe it was just pre-wedding nerves. Or maybe it was something more. I didn¡¯t want to have to drag it out of her.


    I was waiting for her toe to me.


    Maybe I¡¯d been pushing too hard¡ªasking her to be part of the nning, chasing down guest lists, honeymoon destinations. I¡¯d pulled back. Given her space. Let the silence breathe.


    Maybe she¡¯d realise the only reason I cared about the details was because this was OUR wedding. The only one I ever nned on having.


    ¡®There it is again.¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯


    Lea pointed at me. ¡®That look. All faraway and scowly. Like something¡¯s gnawing at you and you can¡¯t decide what to do about it.¡¯


    I sat down and turned to myputer. ¡®Don¡¯t you have somewhere to be?¡¯


    ¡®Nope. I¡¯m on holiday.¡¯


    I slid a stack of documents her way. ¡®Then sort these. Prioritise. g anything urgent. You know the drill.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not your PA,¡¯ Lea muttered. ¡®Not anymore.¡¯


    ¡®Then either work or piss off.¡¯


    ¡®Aye aye, boss.¡¯ She grumbled, ¡®Kylian says you¡¯ve changed. He should see this¡ªsame old vemaster.¡¯


    I gave her a look.


    She mimed zipping her lips. ¡®Not a peep, promise.¡¯


    A knock on the door. Dominic popped his head in, pausing when he saw I hadpany. ¡®I cane back.¡¯


    ¡®What is it?¡¯ I asked.


    He stepped in, tablet in hand. ¡®You asked me to g anything rted to Mrs Laurent. Well...¡¯


    ¡®Go on.¡¯


    ¡®Franklin Vance is dead. Hemitted suicide in prison.¡¯

 Chapter 259 Ashton: What If She Lashes Out

    <h4>Chapter 259: Chapter 259 Ashton: What If She Lashes Out</h4>


    I stood. ¡®Brief me on the way. Dom, call the pilot. Prep the ne. File the flight n. Let me know the moment it¡¯s approved.¡¯


    Dominic was already on his phone. ¡®Got it, boss. Destination?¡¯


    ¡®Paris.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re going to Paris?¡¯ Lea asked.


    I nodded. ¡®Franklin Vance was Mira¡¯s father. The news of his death will be a shock. I need to be there.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll walk you down.¡¯ She matched my stride as I headed for the executive lift. ¡®What did he do to end up in prison?¡¯


    ¡®Embezzlement, fraud, forgery, tax evasion, the works. When I asked him to make a will leaving everything to Mira, he tried to forge one to shift his assets abroad.¡¯


    ¡®Huh. So you had him locked up?¡¯


    ¡®He did that to himself. I just sped up the process.¡¯


    ¡®Huh,¡¯ she said again.


    ¡®What?¡¯ I nced at her. The lift was already descending.


    ¡®Does your wife know?¡¯


    ¡®Of course. I told her.¡¯


    ¡®So she knows you¡¯re the reason her father went to prison.¡¯


    ¡®There was no love lost between them, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re getting at.¡¯


    ¡®Like my parents and yours. Got it.¡¯ Lea nodded. ¡®Still, I wonder...¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯


    ¡®How she¡¯ll react when she hears he¡¯s dead. What was the cause again?¡¯


    Dominic, who was in the lift with us, said, ¡®Suicide. My sources say he was being bullied in prison. Gangs and the usual. Franklin had a pampered life. He wasn¡¯t built for the rougher side of prison and refused to pay bribes, so they made things hell for him.¡¯


    ¡®So, if he hadn¡¯t gone to prison, he probably wouldn¡¯t have killed himself. He wasn¡¯t suicidal by nature,¡¯ Lea said.


    ¡®He wasn¡¯t,¡¯ I agreed.


    Franklin was a selfish, greedy bastard. The kind who¡¯d sell out his own mother for a bit of extra cash.


    I did wonder if my efforts to block his early parole had helped push him over the edge, but I shoved the thought aside.


    So what if they had? I didn¡¯t make himmit those crimes.


    Lea looked at me again.


    The lift doors opened into the garage. I stepped out.


    ¡®What?¡¯


    ¡®Are you sure seeing your wife right now is a good idea?¡¯


    ¡®Why wouldn¡¯t it be?¡¯


    ¡®She might me you for his death.¡¯


    I stopped and turned back. ¡®How do you mean?¡¯


    ¡®Like you said, he wouldn¡¯t have topped himself if he hadn¡¯t gone to prison. And he wouldn¡¯t have gone to prison if you hadn¡¯t pushed things along.¡¯


    ¡®The court put him there,¡¯ I said.


    ¡®Semantics. We all know how the world works.¡¯ She nced towards Dominic, who¡¯d gone ahead to get the car. ¡®He was her father. It¡¯d be strange if she didn¡¯t feel even a little sad, andsh out. You¡¯ll be standing there, tied to the whole mess, and that makes you an easy target.¡¯


    I frowned. ¡®Mira hated her father. She¡¯s cut ties with her family. She won¡¯t see it that way.¡¯


    ¡®Are you sure? Completely sure? Not everyone¡¯s like us, Ash. We came from simr backgrounds, all of us. You, me, Kylian, Rusty, the rest of the gang. Shipped overseas when we were kids because one parent or the other couldn¡¯t be bothered. We hate our parents.


    You know what I did when I turned twenty-one. And I was genuinely happy when I heard you were packing your father and stepmother off to Africa. Personally, I thought that was too kind, especially by your old standards. But still, I bet you didn¡¯t feel even a flicker of guilt.¡¯


    ¡®Of course not.¡¯ If I never saw their faces again, that would suit me fine.


    ¡®But Mirabelle¡¯s not like us. You said so yourself. She¡¯s more... normal. And normal peoplesh out. Even if she hated him, she¡¯ll still feel something. And that something could end up aimed at you.¡¯


    Dominic had pulled the car up in front of us. He waited for me to get in.


    I stayed where I was. ¡®So you think me breaking the news to Mira is a bad idea.¡¯


    ¡®Honestly? Yes. And I think you¡¯d have reached the same conclusion if you weren¡¯t blinded by...¡¯ Lea didn¡¯t finish the sentence. ¡®Anyway, what do you think you¡¯re going to do when you get there? If she doesn¡¯t care about him anymore, then your being there won¡¯t matter. If she does care, and mes you, it¡¯ll only make things worse. Either way, I don¡¯t see the point.¡¯


    ¡®Boss?¡¯ Dominic leaned his head out of the window. ¡®Pilot just called. Flight n to Paris is approved. We can board in an hour.¡¯


    I looked at Dominic behind the wheel, then back at Lea.


    I had a decision to make.

 Chapter 260 Mira: Undercover

    <h4>Chapter 260: Chapter 260 Mira: Undercover</h4>


    Inspector Silva walked up to me and reached for the front of my blouse.


    I snatched the button out of his hand. ¡®I can do it myself.¡¯


    ¡®The gadget¡¯s sensitive,¡¯ he said. ¡®Needs careful handling.¡¯


    ¡®I can manage pinning a button to a blouse, thanks.¡¯


    If not for the strictly professional look on his face, and the fact I¡¯d spent thest three days getting a sense of him, I might¡¯ve thought he was trying to grope me. But the man had one setting: work.


    ¡®The mini camcorder captures everything within twenty metres of your field of vision,¡¯ he said, stepping back. ¡®Make sure the lens is facing outwards and at the right angle.¡¯


    I looked down and adjusted the tiny white device. It blended in perfectly with the rest of the buttons on my blouse.


    Silva checked something on hisptop, then put on a pair of earphones. ¡®The view¡¯s good. Say something.¡¯


    ¡®Something.¡¯


    ¡®Loud and clear.¡¯ He pulled the earphones off.


    I resisted the urge to keep looking down at the button. ¡®What if he doesn¡¯t say anything useful tonight?¡¯


    ¡®Then we try again tomorrow.¡¯


    Seeing the doubt on my face, he added, ¡®Don¡¯t worry. He¡¯s starting to crack. It won¡¯t be long. He likes you. He¡¯ll talk.¡¯


    I stopped myself from rolling my eyes and shing him the engagement ring on my finger. I knew what he meant, but still. Couldn¡¯t he find a better way to phrase it?


    ¡®We need names,¡¯ he said. ¡®Who helped him move the funds, who cooked the books. He¡ª¡¯


    ¡®I know, I know.¡¯ I cut him off. ¡®He¡¯s not smart enough to pull this off alone. You¡¯ve told me. Repeatedly.¡¯


    After our first meeting at the caf¨¦, once he was sure I was on board, Silva had briefed me very thoroughly on Fabrizio. Possibly too thoroughly.


    Whatever brainpower Fabrizio had in design clearly didn¡¯t carry over to running a business.


    As the founder of Valmont & Cie, he used to do everything himself. At one point, he was CEO, CFO, COO, and every other C-title, as if he were running a corner shop, not a rapidly growingpany.


    As things took off, he overinvested in stock, priced poorly, overhired, and paid too generously. When the invoices started piling up, he turned to investors. That bought him time, but the mismanagement continued, and soon he needed to make the numbers look better before investors started asking questions.


    From there, it wasn¡¯t a huge leap to falsifying reports, forging documents, andmitting loan fraud.


    Even Silva admitted the crimes came more from ipetence than greed.


    ¡®But a crime¡¯s still a crime,¡¯ he insisted. ¡®Just because he didn¡¯t mean to hurt anyone doesn¡¯t mean his investors and suppliers aren¡¯t taking the hit.¡¯


    ¡®Worried I¡¯ll go soft on him?¡¯ I scoffed. ¡®Don¡¯t. He owes me five million.¡¯


    Silva nodded. ¡®Shall we run through the script again?¡¯


    ¡®If you must.¡¯ I sighed and sat down for another dry run.


    ¡®If anything goes wrong, give the signal. Our team will move in straightaway.¡¯


    I nodded. I was actually a little excited. Who hadn¡¯t dreamt of being an undercover cop after watching Infernal Affairs?


    ¡®Wait. He¡¯s not dangerous, is he?¡¯


    ¡®No. No registered firearms. No history of violence as far as we can tell.¡¯


    ¡®Not even a pub fight?¡¯


    ¡®Not even.¡¯


    ¡®All right.¡¯ That lined up with my impression of Fabrizio. Charming. Polite. More brainy than brawny.


    An hourter, I stepped out of the hotel and caught a taxi to Le Meurice. From the location and the price of the menu, you¡¯d never guess the man was technically bankrupt.


    He greeted me with his usual charming smile. It was getting harder to ignore the dark circles under his eyes.


    I ordered foie gras, sea bass with lemon confit, and a chocte souffl¨¦, along with a bottle of Chateau Margaux. I matched him drink for drink.


    There¡¯s a saying that people tell the truth when they¡¯re drunk. I was hoping that held true for Fabrizio.


    I¡¯d taken a couple of RU-21 pills before leaving. Hopefully they¡¯d help me stay sober enough to get what Silva needed.


    Maybe it was the booze. Maybe it was the stress. Or maybe he genuinely saw me as a friend. Whatever the reason, the usual cool, collected Fabrizio finally dropped the act.


    ¡®It¡¯s not as easy as it looks,¡¯ he said, swirling his sixth ss of wine. His words were starting to slur. ¡®Everyone said the gold price would keep going up. Stockpiling it made sense. I needed it as raw material anyway, right? How was I supposed to know the price would crash a monthter?¡¯


    I made sympathetic noises.


    I knew exactly what crash he meant. Two years ago, when I was still at Nyx Collective, Savannah Lane had lost so much hair over it she¡¯d started wearing a wig to work.


    ¡®I¡¯m facing the same issues with Mira Joie,¡¯ I said. ¡®I thought things were going well. Orders wereing in. Then I looked at the burn rate. I couldn¡¯t believe how fast the money was disappearing.¡¯


    ¡®Exactly.¡¯ Fabrizio nodded hard. ¡®After I saw my first year¡¯s financials, I put up a job ad for a CFO the next day.¡¯


    I pulled a worried frown. ¡®Finance is a nightmare. Bncing the books is worse. I¡¯ve got investorsing in a couple of months, and I¡¯m scared of what they¡¯ll say when they see my quarterly numbers.¡¯


    ¡®You have investors?¡¯


    I nodded. ¡®Just a few. People I know who chipped in when I started out.¡¯ That was a lie. Ashton was my only investor. ¡®The ounts Receivable Turnover is going to give them a heart attack.¡¯


    ¡®Maybe I can help,¡¯ Fabrizio offered.


    ¡®How?¡¯ I gave him a look. ¡®Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re a secret CFA.¡¯


    ¡®If I were, I wouldn¡¯t have nearly drunk myself to death over Valmont¡¯s numbers.¡¯ He smiled weakly. ¡®No, but I know someone who is.¡¯


    ¡®Thanks, but I¡¯ve already got a CFA.¡¯


    ¡®This one¡¯s different.¡¯


    ¡®Different how?¡¯


    ¡®He knows how to polish the books. Make them look cleaner.¡¯


    ¡®You mean, he cooks them?¡¯


    Fabrizio shook his head. ¡®Nothing that crude. Technically, it¡¯s not illegal. If anyone found out, there might be questions. But it¡¯s not a crime.¡¯


    ¡®Huh.¡¯ My pulse picked up. This was the guy Silva needed. ¡®What¡¯s his name? Can you send me his contact info?¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t save his number. He doesn¡¯t like that.¡¯


    ¡®A business card then?¡¯


    ¡®He doesn¡¯t give those out.¡¯


    ¡®Does he at least have a website? An office?¡¯


    ¡®No site. But wait, let me think. I know his number starts with a 6. His office is on...¡¯


    I leaned forward.


    Someone called my name. I ignored it.


    Then someone tapped my shoulder.


    I was so annoyed, I nearly snapped.


    Assuming Silva had jumped the gun, I spun around.


    It wasn¡¯t Silva.

 Chapter 261 Mira: Fight

    <h4>Chapter 261: Chapter 261 Mira: Fight</h4>


    ¡®Ashton! What are you doing here?¡¯


    I couldn¡¯t tell if I was more shocked or furious at the worst possible interruption.


    But I knew exactly what Ashton felt.


    ¡®Murderous¡¯ didn¡¯t even begin to cover the look on his face.


    I instinctively took a step back.


    ¡®Mr L-Laurent.¡¯ Fabrizio had staggered to his feet and extended a hand.


    Even drunk, he remembered his manners.


    Ashton ignored him.


    His gaze locked on me, making the hairs on my neck prickle. ¡®Let¡¯s go.¡¯


    ¡®Go? Where? Wait, I can¡¯t!¡¯


    Fabrizio had been about to give me the name of the man who helped him cook the books. With that, I could close the case and finally get my money back.


    ¡®Why didn¡¯t you call me? And how did you even know I was here?¡¯


    Ashton reached for my wrist.


    ¡®Don¡¯t!¡¯ I yanked my hand free. ¡®I said I¡¯m not leaving.¡¯


    I nced nervously towards the restaurant entrance, half expecting Silva to storm in.


    ¡®Is dinner with him really that important?¡¯ Ashton¡¯s voice was a low, dangerous growl. ¡®I¡¯ve got news. Important news.¡¯


    ¡®Whatever it is, it can wait. I¡¯m in the middle of something.¡¯ I gritted my teeth, leaned close and whispered in his ear, ¡®This dinner matters. A lot. I¡¯ll exinter. Right now, you need to disappear.¡¯


    He stared at me. ¡®You¡¯re asking me to leave? For him?¡¯


    I let out a loud, frustrated breath. ¡®This isn¡¯t the time for another jealous outburst, Ashton. Just leave, all right?¡¯


    I turned back to Fabrizio with an apologetic smile, which froze when I saw him slumped in his chair, chin on his chest, softly snoring.


    He was out cold.


    ¡®Shit.¡¯ I signalled for the bill and asked the waiter to fetch the restaurant owner, a friend of Fabrizio¡¯s.


    When the man arrived, I said, ¡®Could you see that he gets home safely?¡¯


    He nced between me, Fabrizio and Ashton, gave me a knowing smile, and said, ¡®Sure.¡¯


    I headed for the door. ¡®Let¡¯s go.¡¯


    Ashton followed, silent but visibly furious.


    ¡®My car¡¯s over there,¡¯ he said as we stepped onto the kerb.


    I ignored him and kept walking, my own anger bubbling up, blood boiling from tonight¡¯s wasted effort.


    I¡¯d been so close.


    ¡®Where are you going?¡¯ Ashton caught up to me easily with his long strides. He tried to grab my hand again, but I shook him off.


    ¡®Don¡¯t touch me.¡¯


    I turned the corner and walked straight to a beige utilities van parked in front of a closed shop.


    Before I could knock, the door swung open. Silva jumped out, scowling.


    ¡®I didn¡¯t get the name,¡¯ I said.


    Silva nodded. ¡®I heard. Not your fault.¡¯ He shot a look at Ashton. ¡®This your fianc¨¦?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah.¡¯ Though, after tonight, I wasn¡¯t so sure for how much longer. ¡®What now?¡¯


    Silva nced back at the van, where aputer and surveince setup sat unused, two uniformed officers ready to call it a night. ¡®We regroup. I think I know who Fabrizio meant. I¡¯ll dig into it. You should go home.¡¯


    I unclipped the tiny camcorder button from my blouse and handed it to him. ¡®Here.¡¯ I didn¡¯t want anyone listening in on what wasing next.


    I headed back to Ashton¡¯s car and climbed into the passenger seat.


    I was tempted to g a taxi instead, but that would only dy the inevitable. I wanted the fight over and done with.


    Ashton slid behind the wheel and started the engine.


    Neither of us said a word during the drive back to the hotel.


    When we reached the suite, he spoke first. ¡®We need to talk.¡¯


    ¡®I need a shower first.¡¯


    I¡¯d matched Fabrizio drink for drink and reeked of wine. My head was swimming, but not enough to cloud my judgement. If anything, the alcohol stripped away my usual hesitation. I knew if I didn¡¯t say what needed saying tonight, I¡¯d lose my nerve by morning and, as Yvaine would say, go back to being a coward in love.


    I didn¡¯t wait for Ashton¡¯s reply. I headed straight into the shower, turned the temperature as high as it would go, and let the scorching water batter me. The heat matched my mood.


    I scrubbed hard until my skin was raw, then got dressed and brushed my teeth.


    When I came out, Ashton was on the balcony, an unlit cigarette dangling from his fingers.


    ¡®Let¡¯s talk,¡¯ I said.


    He turned.


    In his usual dark suit, with that unusually grim expression, he looked like the embodiment of night itself.


    That had been part of the attraction when we first met. He¡¯d looked dangerous, and dangerously good-looking.


    I looked away and sank into an armchair.


    My temples throbbed, and the alcohol, amplified by the hot shower, was burning through me fast.


    ¡®Who was the man in the van?¡¯ Ashton demanded.


    ¡®Don¡¯t talk to me like I¡¯m one of your employees,¡¯ I snapped. ¡®I get to ask first.¡¯


    He visibly tried to rein in his temper, but the veins on his clenched hand stood out even in the dim light. ¡®Fine. Ask.¡¯


    ¡®How did you know I was at that restaurant?¡¯


    ¡®I made some calls.¡¯


    ¡®Too vague. Not good enough.¡¯


    ¡®I hired someone who specialises in that sort of thing. He tracked your phone.¡¯


    ¡®You mean a private detective.¡¯


    ¡®...Yes.¡¯


    ¡®So you hired a PI to follow me.¡¯


    ¡®Not follow. You weren¡¯t answering your phone. I had to find you.¡¯

 Chapter 262 Mira: Time to End It

    <h4>Chapter 262: Chapter 262 Mira: Time to End It</h4>


    ¡®Bet you were gutted when you didn¡¯t catch me shagging Fabrizio in a hotel room.¡¯ The sarcasm slipped out. ¡®Is that what you thought? What you¡¯ve always thought, ever since you met him? That he¡¯s fancied me, and the second you left Paris, the two of us jumped into bed? Is that what this is?¡¯


    Then it hit me. ¡®Is that why you left Paris so suddenly? You didn¡¯t actually leave, did you? You just pretended to, hoping I¡¯d fall into his arms so you could catch me red-handed.¡¯


    Ashton tried more than once to cut in, but I steamrolled right over him.


    He¡¯d always had stalker tendencies. I saw that the day he bought the t across from mine. Then he showed up at a bar I¡¯d picked at random. When I moved into Oakwood Apartments, he bought the entire building.


    It had unsettled me, yes, but back then, we were two people tangled in a lie, each trying to solve our own mess. I didn¡¯t feel it was my ce to call him out.


    But I couldn¡¯t keep ignoring it.


    I shot out of the chair and started pacing. Bloody hell. Why hadn¡¯t I added all this up sooner? Ashton needed control. He had to know everything, be in charge of everything. And I hated being controlled.


    Why had I ever thought this rtionship could work just because he liked me?


    ¡®Can I speak now?¡¯ Ashton asked.


    ¡®Go on.¡¯


    ¡®I wasn¡¯t stalking you, or trying to catch you out. I tracked you down because I had news, something I had to tell you in person before it hit the press.¡¯


    ¡®You could¡¯ve called.¡¯


    ¡®I did. I called and texted. You didn¡¯t answer.¡¯


    I fished out my phone. Sure enough, a few missed calls.


    ¡®I was in the middle of an important dinner.¡¯


    ¡®With Fabrizio.¡¯


    ¡®Yes!¡¯ I spun around and red at him. ¡®And instead of trying to seduce him, I was trying to get him locked up.¡¯


    That stopped him.


    In clipped tones, I told him about Inspector Silva, his visits, and my undercover dinner. ¡®Fabrizio was just about to give me a name when you barged in. Now the whole thing¡¯s a mess.¡¯


    I folded my arms and shot him a look that said, ¡®This is your fault.¡¯


    But instead of looking guilty, Ashton looked... angry?


    ¡®You shouldn¡¯t have done that,¡¯ he said.


    ¡®Done what?¡¯


    ¡®epted Silva¡¯s request. You put yourself at risk.¡¯


    ¡®Fabrizio¡¯s not dangerous.¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s a criminal.¡¯


    ¡®A white-cor one. He doesn¡¯t go around waving guns and murdering people.¡¯


    ¡®Back someone into a corner and see how quickly they get violent.¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s not armed. And I can box.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s not the point. You shouldn¡¯t have done it.¡¯


    ¡®So now I need your permission to do things?¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s not what I meant.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s exactly what you meant!¡¯


    He went quiet for a moment, then admitted, ¡®It is. I just wish you¡¯d talked to me first.¡¯


    I looked away.


    He was right. That was the worst part.


    If I¡¯d shown him Valmont¡¯s books from the start, he might¡¯ve spotted the red gs. He was sharp, and had a better eye for finance than I ever would. Maybe then I wouldn¡¯t have dumped five million euros into a sinking ship, and I wouldn¡¯t be scrambling now to recover it.


    It wasn¡¯t even the money that stung. It was the humiliation of screwing up, of looking stupid. And that was why I hadn¡¯t told Ashton. I hadn¡¯t wanted to lose face.


    ¡®I don¡¯t need you monitoring my every move,¡¯ I said.


    ¡®Silva used you. He could¡¯ve made an arrest with what he had, but he wanted more, so he pushed you to get it. He used you to boost his own career.¡¯


    I knew that. I just hadn¡¯t cared. If the n worked, Silva got his promotion, and I got my money back.


    But the n didn¡¯t work.


    Now I could only hope Fabrizio was too drunk to remember how desperate I¡¯d sounded tonight.


    ¡®You should¡¯vee to me. I would¡¯ve got your money back,¡¯ Ashton said.


    That set me off.


    ¡®I KNOW! I know you could¡¯ve fixed it. You run a bloody empire and have strings everywhere. You could make things happen with a single call. But that doesn¡¯t mean I should crawl to you every time something goes wrong. I don¡¯t want to be that woman, Ashton. I¡¯m not going to fall apart and beg you to fix my life for me.¡¯


    There it was. Every insecurity I¡¯d buried since we got serious. Ashton¡¯s power didn¡¯tfort me, it made me feel small. I could ask for help, and he¡¯d dly give it. He was like a towering redwood, solid and immovable. Under that canopy, I¡¯d be protected.


    But what if one day that tree came down?


    I didn¡¯t want to be some parasitic vine, living off someone else, incapable of surviving alone.


    Maybe it was better to end this before I forgot how to stand on my own.


    I touched the engagement ring on my finger. It was a beautiful piece, simple, elegant. He¡¯d clearly gone to one of the best jewellers.


    But had he forgotten I was a designer too? Why hadn¡¯t he asked me to design our rings? Wouldn¡¯t that have meant more?


    Or maybe he hadn¡¯t forgotten. Maybe he just didn¡¯t think my work was good enough.


    I started to pull off the ring.


    ¡®Mira!¡¯ Ashton¡¯s voice snapped.


    I looked up. ¡®What?¡¯


    He was staring at my hand. ¡®I have news.¡¯


    ¡®So do I.¡¯ I was done being a coward. It was time to walk away from the man who seemed too good to be true.


    ¡®It¡¯s about your father,¡¯ he said quickly.


    That stopped me.


    ¡®What about him?¡¯ Wasn¡¯t Franklin still in prison?


    ¡®He¡¯s dead.¡¯

 Chapter 263 Ashton: Easy Target

    <h4>Chapter 263: Chapter 263 Ashton: Easy Target</h4>


    ¡®You found her?¡¯ Lea asked.


    I nodded and sank onto the barstool beside her.


    ¡®She all right?¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯s fine.¡¯ Or she had been, until I turned up, wrecked her dinner and blew up her n.


    ¡®Told you the PI I rmended was good.¡¯ Lea smiled. ¡®I use him for business intel mostly, but he handles personal cases too. I¡ª¡¯ She paused, reading my face. ¡®Didn¡¯t go well, then.¡¯


    There was sympathy in her voice, but I knew her well enough to hear the schadenfreude underneath.


    ¡®Mira just needs time.¡¯


    Lea waved the bartender over and ordered a Boulevardier for me. ¡®That¡¯s what I said. She needs time to process the news. Alone. You showing up probably made things worse. Did shesh out?¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯


    I took a long gulp. It went down smooth, but it didn¡¯t touch the mess inside me.


    I couldn¡¯t forget the look on Mira¡¯s face when I told her about her father. Or the look that followed when I exined how he¡¯d died.


    Shock. Anger. me. Rage. Hatred. Even disgust.


    ¡®So I was wrong,¡¯ Lea said.


    Not quite. Mira didn¡¯t me me, not out loud anyway. But she did say she needed space. She didn¡¯t think it was a good idea for us to spend the night together.


    So, just past midnight, I got kicked out. I drove aimlessly for a while and ended up here.


    I drained the rest of the cocktail and signalled for another.


    ¡®You should slow down,¡¯ Lea said. ¡®You¡¯re the one who told me drinking solves nothing. No answers at the bottom of a ss. Only delusion, escape, lies and cowardice.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not drunk.¡¯


    I wished I were.


    If I were, I wouldn¡¯t remember every detail. I¡¯d be able to forget the moment she reached for her ring.


    She¡¯d been about to take it off.


    Leaving Paris and leaving her alone had been a huge mistake.


    Lea seemed to read my thoughts. ¡®I¡¯m sorry. If it weren¡¯t for me, you wouldn¡¯t have had to rush back to Skyline, and none of this would¡¯ve happened.¡¯


    I shook my head. ¡®It¡¯s not your fault.¡¯


    Lea was one of my oldest friends. I couldn¡¯t just leave her in trouble.


    ¡®Are you sure Pierre will sign the divorce papers?¡¯ I asked.


    She¡¯d flown to Paris with me because herwyer said Pierre had agreed to a no-contest divorce.


    ¡®He doesn¡¯t want to, but his parents will force him to. The Marchands care more about their money than their image. You¡¯ve put pressure on their overseas business, and I¡¯ve threatened to leak Pierre¡¯s dirtyundry to the press. His parents will hogtie him and drag him to sign if they have to. They¡¯ll be d to see the back of me. Never liked me anyway.¡¯


    I patted her shoulder. ¡®You¡¯ll find someone better.¡¯


    From what Kylian told me, she¡¯d married Pierre days after meeting him. Whether it was her mistake, his, or both, wasn¡¯t mine to judge.


    ¡®Look at us. Pair of hopeless cases,¡¯ Lea said with a crooked smile. She raised her ss. ¡®To friendship.¡¯


    I clinked sses with her and drank.


    ¡®Do you want me toe with you tomorrow to the meeting?¡¯ I asked.


    The only time I¡¯d met Pierre was outside her hotel room. He¡¯d been high and drunk, mming his fists on the door. He looked like a spoilt man-child, and I wouldn¡¯t put it past him to get violent.


    ¡®Nah. I¡¯ll bring my bodyguards.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯d better.¡¯


    ¡®What about you? What are you going to do about Mirabelle?¡¯


    I stared into my drink. For once, I had no idea.


    ¡®There you are.¡¯


    We both looked up at the voice, soaked in spite.


    ¡®Pierre!¡¯ Lea stood abruptly. ¡®What the hell are you doing here?¡¯


    ¡®Catching you in the act.¡¯


    He was clearly drunk. Bloodshot eyes. Breath reeking of booze.


    ¡®Is this the guy you¡¯ve been fucking behind my back?¡¯


    I pushed away the finger jabbing towards my face. ¡®Watch your mouth.¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s just a friend,¡¯ Lea said. Her voice wavered.


    Something about her expression made my gut twist. She didn¡¯t look furious. She looked... hopeful?


    ¡®Friend,¡¯ Pierre scoffed. ¡®I know what that means. Fuck buddies.¡¯


    ¡®Say that again and I¡¯ll make sure you can¡¯t speak for a month.¡¯


    I was already in a foul mood. Pierre was practically begging to be my outlet.


    ¡®Ooh. Scary man.¡¯ He fake-shivered. ¡®So scary. Look at me, I¡¯ve got goosebumps.¡¯


    I knocked his arm away. ¡®Piss off.¡¯


    ¡®Funny. That¡¯s exactly what I was about to say to you.¡¯ He grabbed Lea¡¯s waist. ¡®Let¡¯s go, Lea bunny. You and I need a little chat.¡¯


    I stood and blocked his path. ¡®She¡¯s not going anywhere with you.¡¯


    ¡®Says who?¡¯ His grin was vile. His eyes had that gleam I didn¡¯t like.


    ¡®Ash, let me just talk to him,¡¯ Lea said, eyes apologetic.


    ¡®Are you serious? Did you forget what he did to you?¡¯


    ¡®I...¡¯ She looked away and bit her lip. ¡®He¡¯s still my husband.¡¯


    I couldn¡¯t believe what I was hearing. Where the hell was the sharp, clear-eyed Lea I knew?


    As if to show off, Pierre pinched her arse while looking straight at me.


    I clenched my jaw. ¡®Lea. Are you sure you want to leave with him?¡¯


    She gave the slightest nod. Still couldn¡¯t look at me.


    ¡®See? She¡¯ll go wherever I want,¡¯ Pierre crowed. ¡®She¡¯s my wife, mate. And I¡¯m going home with her tonight. Gonna fuck her brains out. Then make her swallow my cum.¡¯


    I red at the little bastard. ¡®Don¡¯t talk about her like that.¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯s mine. I¡¯ll talk how I like. I¡¯ll do what I like. You don¡¯t get a say.¡¯


    I looked straight at Lea. ¡®Tell me you¡¯re not going with him.¡¯


    ¡®I...¡¯


    I saw the punching. Pierre was sloppy and slow, way too drunk tond a surprise hit.


    I blocked it easily. It didn¡¯t hurt.


    But it was all the excuse I needed.


    The fury that had been building all night finally snapped loose.


    I smashed my fist into his face. Blood sttered. He howled and swung wildly.


    Lea tried to get between us, but I kept going.


    Everything blurred. I wasn¡¯t hitting Pierre anymore. I was hitting every bad decision, every frustration, every goddamn thing that had gone wrong.


    He kicked, iled, screamed. I kept swinging.


    Bouncers stormed in. Tried to pull me off.


    I didn¡¯t stop.

 Chapter 264 Ashton: Flashing Red Flag

    <h4>Chapter 264: Chapter 264 Ashton: shing Red g</h4>


    ¡®I called thewyer. He¡¯s on his way.¡¯


    Lea came into the interview room after the police officer left.


    She looked guilty. ¡®I¡¯m sorry.¡¯


    ¡®Not your fault.¡¯ That was only partly true. My face still ached from the punch thrown by one of the bouncers, and I was still furious at Lea for agreeing to leave with her abusive, waste of oxygen husband.


    ¡®You okay?¡¯ She winced at the bruises on my face. ¡®Once we get bail, you should get checked out at a hospital.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m fine. You¡¯re the one who needs her head examined. What were you thinking?¡¯


    She sank into the chair the officer had just vacated. ¡®I wasn¡¯t.¡¯


    ¡®No shit. You turn into apletely different person around Pierre. No brains, no self-preservation. Just blind loyalty.¡¯ I was starting to doubt whether she¡¯d actually go through with the divorce.


    Mira would¡¯ve walked away from a man like Pierre without even turning her head. She was usually warm, easygoing, always seemed to say yes to everything, but there were hard lines she didn¡¯t cross. And when it came to those, she didn¡¯t negotiate.


    Right now, I was starting to wonder if I¡¯d crossed one of them myself.


    ¡®Maybe I am a different person.¡¯ Lea gave a long, tired sigh. She lookedpletely adrift. ¡®I don¡¯t know why. This is going to sound pathetic, but I still have feelings for Pierre.¡¯


    She raised a hand, palm out. ¡®Before you judge, let me finish. He was the perfect guy for me. And I don¡¯t just mean the usual surface-level stuff like shared interests and hobbies. We got each other. Properly. In a life-or-death situation, I know he¡¯d take a bullet for me, and I¡¯d do the same for him.¡¯


    I looked at her and saw a womanpletely detached from reality. Was this what love did? Made people ignore every shing red g and walk willingly into traffic?


    Lea carried on, oblivious. ¡®I know you¡¯re going to say he¡¯s a violent piece of work. And maybe he is. But the thing is, I¡¯d have done the same. If I thought he was cheating on me, I¡¯d have gone for him too. Probably worse than he ever went for me. Yeah, he got physical when he was drunk sometimes, but what I didn¡¯t tell you before is that I gave back just as much. Maybe more. A few times, he ended up in hospital in worse shape than I did.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s not an excuse,¡¯ I said tly. It was just more proof of how toxic the whole thing was.


    ¡®I knew you wouldn¡¯t get it.¡¯ She sighed again. ¡®Never mind. I¡¯m just saying, Pierre¡¯s not this monster I made him out to be. He¡¯s just... possessive. And yeah, he loses it, but only when it¡¯s about me. He attacked you at the bar because he thought we were... you know.¡¯


    I had plenty of things I wanted to say, but I kept quiet.


    What about the drinking and the drugs? Was that just more of his undying devotion too?


    There was no point. You can¡¯t wake someone who¡¯s pretending to be asleep. My words would only bounce off deaf ears.


    Lea¡¯swyer arrived quickly. After slipping cash into the right hands, I was released on bail. I had to hand over my passport, which was annoying, but fine. I wasn¡¯t leaving Paris until I¡¯d sorted things out with Mira anyway.


    What annoyed me more was the court date. Thewyer looked proud of himself, bragging about how fast he¡¯d gotten the case pushed through.


    ¡®Quicker it gets processed, quicker it¡¯s closed,¡¯ he said.


    ¡®I¡¯ve got ns tomorrow,¡¯ I told him. I needed to see Mira.


    ¡®Then cancel them,¡¯ thewyer replied. ¡®I paid good money to get your file to the top of the docket. If you don¡¯t show up, the judge will be furious. And Parisian judges don¡¯t take kindly to having their time wasted.¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s right,¡¯ Lea said quietly.


    ¡®Fine,¡¯ I muttered.


    I pulled out my phone to text Mira, but paused.


    What was I going to say? That I¡¯d ended up in a bar fight and now had to be in court the next morning? That would only drag down her already low opinion of me.


    Instead, I typed: [Have business to take care of. See you tomorrow night.]


    ¡®Want me to go talk to Mirabelle?¡¯ Lea offered.


    ¡®Bad idea.¡¯ There was nothing between me and Lea, but Mira didn¡¯t know that. No way was I sending another woman to speak to my fianc¨¦e, especially not now.


    ¡®I should warn you,¡¯ Lea said. ¡®Pierre¡¯s parents are flying in. Couldnd any time. They¡¯re going to be furious once they hear their precious boy got punched. They¡¯ll want blood. Probably yours.¡¯


    ¡®I can handle it.¡¯


    ¡®I know. Titanova was practically built to fix other people¡¯s messes. You¡¯re good at it. But you should know, the Marchands don¡¯t y clean. They¡¯ll dig into your past, try to paint you as a dangerous thug. They¡¯re media-savvy and well-connected. If there¡¯s dirt, they¡¯ll find it.¡¯


    ¡®Let them dig. I¡¯ve got nothing to be ashamed of.¡¯


    ¡®I know that. And it¡¯s not like the Marchands built their empire on Sunday school morals either. I¡¯m just thinking about what happens when the press gets involved. What Mirabelle might think if she reads about it. Have you told her? About your past?¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯


    How was I supposed to exin to the woman I loved, a woman whose world revolved around jewellery and who got excited ying undercover cop, that my old life had been lived mostly in the grey areas of thew? That I¡¯d solved more problems with fists and firearms than with contracts and clever words?


    ¡®Then you¡¯d better hope the Marchands don¡¯t release anything,¡¯ Lea said. ¡®Mirabelle¡¯s not like us. She won¡¯t understand that you only did what you had to do to survive.¡¯


    I unlocked the car and Lea got in.


    ¡®I will,¡¯ I said.

 Chapter 265 Mira: Nothing Left to Save

    <h4>Chapter 265: Chapter 265 Mira: Nothing Left to Save</h4>


    I woke up with a stuffy head, a blocked nose and a hangover.


    My head throbbed, my limbs ached, and my heart fluttered in a strange, jumpy rhythm, the result of a sleepless night.


    I saw Ashton¡¯s text and didn¡¯t reply.


    I didn¡¯t want to talk to him. Not until I¡¯d sorted out what was going on in my own head.


    Franklin was dead.


    My father was dead.


    I couldn¡¯t remember thest time we¡¯d had a peaceful conversation. Thest time he spoke to me without trying to squeeze something out of Ashton. Thest time he gave me a smile that felt remotely fatherly.


    Still, he was my father. He gave me life.


    I could at least spend one day mourning him. Right?


    I called Fabrizio to ask for the day off.


    He didn¡¯t answer.


    His hangover was probably worse than mine. I remembered how much he¡¯d drunkst night.


    I rang Peter Carl instead and told him I wasn¡¯ting in.


    ¡®You and Fab both,¡¯ he said, sounding unsurprised. ¡®What did you two get up tost night?¡¯


    I gave a vague answer.


    ¡®It¡¯s fine. Take all the time you need. What do you want me to do with the letter, though?¡¯


    ¡®What letter?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®The one on your desk. The envelope says ¡°for Mirabelle¡±. No sender name, but I recognise Fabrizio¡¯s handwriting. He must¡¯ve left it there after you clocked out. Some kind of note about a design tweak, maybe. Want me to open it?¡¯


    A cold feeling settled in my chest. ¡®No. I¡¯ll be there soon. Don¡¯t open it.¡¯


    ¡®Okay.¡¯ Peter Carl sounded like he had more questions, but I wasn¡¯t in the mood.


    I called Inspector Silva.


    ¡®I was just about to ring you,¡¯ he said.


    The cold feeling turned to stone. ¡®Tell me.¡¯


    ¡®Fabrizio Marchetti has fled the country.¡¯


    ¡®When?¡¯ My mouth went dry.


    ¡®Sometimest night. More precisely, early this morning, around 3 a.m.¡¯


    ¡®How? I thought you had men watching him.¡¯


    ¡®We did. He slipped out of the city on a bus, ditched his phone, probably crossed into Luxembourg and caught a flight to Sydney. By now, he¡¯s likelynded in Rarotonga.¡¯ Silva¡¯s voice was thick with regret.


    ¡®You can¡¯t touch him there.¡¯


    ¡®We can¡¯t.¡¯ Silva sighed. ¡®We were so close. Someone must¡¯ve tipped him off.¡¯


    ¡®Last night, at the dinner¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Not you. I¡¯m not pointing fingers. Fabrizio had help. Someone with the means to organise a new passport and get him out. We¡¯re working on it. In the meantime...¡¯


    ¡®I need to get to the office.¡¯


    ¡®I doubt he left anything useful behind.¡¯


    ¡®He left me a letter.¡¯


    That got Silva¡¯s attention. ¡®I¡¯ll meet you there in half an hour.¡¯


    I rushed out and gged down a taxi. My thoughts were nk. Fabrizio was gone. Just like that.


    I knew Silva had no reason to lie to me, but part of me still couldn¡¯t believe it. Even as he coached me on what to ask, even as I yed along, it never felt entirely real.


    ¡®We¡¯re here,¡¯ the driver said.


    I paid and jumped out, rushed past the smiling receptionist, and took the lift up to my floor.


    The white envelope was on my desk, just like Peter Carl had said.


    Silva wasn¡¯t here yet. He¡¯d probably tell me not to touch it, to let forensics handle it.


    I didn¡¯t wait.


    I tore it open and pulled out a single sheet of paper.


    It was handwritten. All it said was: ¡®I¡¯m sorry.¡¯


    ¡®What¡¯s wrong?¡¯ Peter Carl strolled over, holding a coffee. ¡®You look like someone just died.¡¯


    I looked up, stunned.


    Everyone at thepany, apart from me, had been kept in the dark about the investigation. But now it was all going toe out. What would happen to Peter Carl? To the others? What would they do when they found out that Fabrizio had bankrupted thepany and bailed instead of staying to fix what he¡¯d broken?


    ¡®I¡¯ve been thinking about your idea for that pierced openwork cor ne,¡¯ Peter Carl said, breezy as ever. ¡®It could work, but we¡¯ll probably run into sourcing issues. The suppliers are all ying hardball. No one wants to release their stones unless they see a cheque first.¡¯ He shrugged. ¡®Everyone¡¯s in it for the money, eh? I, on the other hand,¡¯ he said, thumping his chest, ¡®live for the art.¡¯


    I licked my lips, dry and cracked. I didn¡¯t have the heart to tell him he was about to lose his job.


    In fact, everyone at Valmont & Cie would be out of work once the investors realised thepany was an empty shell. They¡¯d liquidate everything just to recover what they could.


    ¡®Don¡¯t worry. It¡¯ll all be fine.¡¯ Peter Carl leaned across the desk and patted my hand. ¡®You look like you¡¯re about to explode. I ought to tell the boss off for piling so much stress on you. If I can find him. Where is Fab, anyway?¡¯


    There was a knock at the open door.


    Inspector Silva stepped in.


    I handed him the envelope silently.


    ¡®Who¡¯s this?¡¯ Peter Carl asked.


    I looked at him. I didn¡¯t want to be the one to say it, but no one else could.


    ¡®Peter, can you gather everyone? I need to make an announcement.¡¯


    ¡®What¡¯s going on?¡¯ His expression darkened. He could probably feel what wasing. ¡®Alright. Give me a minute.¡¯


    Ten minutester, I stood in front of a familiar group of faces, braced myself and told them everything.


    Gasps, frowns, shaking heads and stunned silence followed. None of them wanted to believe it, but Silva¡¯s presence backed me up.


    He gave them the rest. ¡®Thepany is insolvent and will be liquidated. The public prosecutor will petition the court for apulsory winding-up order.¡¯


    That was when the crying began.


    Peter Carl found meter in the afternoon, eyes red.


    ¡®Mirabelle, you¡¯re the only one who can save us now.¡¯

 Chapter 266 Mira: An Offer I Can’t Ignore

    <h4>Chapter 266: Chapter 266 Mira: An Offer I Can¡¯t Ignore</h4>


    ¡®If thepany¡¯s liquidated, we lose everything. The CAD models, portfolios, inventory. I can find a job elsewhere easily with my CV, but I like thepany, I like the work, and I want to stay.¡¯


    Peter Carl¡¯s voice had lost its usual breeziness.


    ¡®But what can I do?¡¯ I still didn¡¯t see why he thought I could save thepany. I was in hot water myself. With Fabrizio gone, my joint venture with him was finished, and the productunch I¡¯d poured thest two months into would die with it.


    I¡¯d already given up hope of getting my money back. The only thing left seemed to be leaving.


    ¡®You have a studio, don¡¯t you? So you¡¯ve got management experience,¡¯ Peter Carl said.


    I gave a wry smile. ¡®As Fabrizio has so clearly demonstrated, running a small independent studio and running a bigpany aren¡¯t the same thing.¡¯


    ¡®I know, but I have faith in you.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t have faith in myself.¡¯


    ¡®Come on. Just think about it. If you buy Valmont & Cie now, you¡¯ll get it cheap. The investors will be d to sell for cents on the dor just to recoup something. And I don¡¯t know about the others, but I¡¯m willing to take a pay cut. You could still go ahead with your productunch. Valmont has everything: the infrastructure, manufacturing, marketingworks, distribution channels. All that could be yours. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to break into the ultrapetitive Paris fashion market.¡¯


    I had to admit, he made valid points.


    Ten minutes ago, I¡¯d been so discouraged I just wanted to pack up, go home, and find somewhere to sulk and lick my wounds in peace.


    But now... maybe his idea could work.


    ¡®I¡¯ll have to think about it,¡¯ I said atst.


    ¡®Yes, of course, but don¡¯t take too long. Will you let me know before the court puts thepany up for auction? I can help you get in touch with the investors if you decide to buy.¡¯


    I was torn.


    What designer worth her salt hadn¡¯t dreamed of conquering Paris, the fashion capital of the world?


    And he was right, this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. If I missed it, I wouldn¡¯t get another opportunity dropped into myp so neatly.


    It was like someone offering you Apple shares before they went public. If you hesitated even for a second before pulling out your chequebook, you were an idiot.


    Still, buying thepany meant amitment that would tie me to Paris for the foreseeable future. I¡¯d have to relocate, move away from Skyline, from Ashton.


    I¡¯d have to merge Mira Joie with Valmont & Cie.


    And... what would Ashton think?


    How would he react to me moving thousands of miles away less than two months before the wedding?


    Would a long-distance rtionship work?


    I strolled down the street aimlessly, the fragrant spring air doing nothing to clear my head.


    I stared at my phone and almost called him, then decided against it.


    My mind was still a mess, and I didn¡¯t trust myself not to say something stupid in the heat of the moment.


    I already regretted the drunken outburst the night before, when I¡¯d med him for ruining my ns.


    If not for his interference, the police might have arrested Fabrizio, and none of this would have happened.


    I stopped myself before I could start pinning more me on him.


    I called Priya instead, who¡¯d been sending me regr work updates by email.


    Priya said the publicity from the Aureate Awards win was still paying off, with more customer enquiriesing in.


    Octavia Grey, the A-list actress, had been promoting Mira Joie on her social media, and the traffic was higher than ever.


    ¡®When are youing back?¡¯ Priya asked. ¡®I¡¯m starting to feel guilty for turning customers away.¡¯


    ¡®Soon,¡¯ I lied, just to put her at ease. ¡®No customisation projects for now, stick with the catalogue we¡¯ve got.¡¯


    ¡®I know, but even those are selling fast. Our OEM factory can¡¯t keep up. The owner called me the other day, said his is a small-scale operation, he relies on skilled artisans and traditional craftsmanship, and when we signed the contract, we never said it would be bulk production.¡¯


    ¡®Reach out to other OEMs,¡¯ I said. ¡®See how they operate, get samples, and if the price and quality match what we have now, sign them on.¡¯


    ¡®Shouldn¡¯t you be here to make those decisions? I¡¯ll be out of my depth.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m promoting you to general manager. I¡¯ll guide you along the way. Get me on a video call when you tour the factories and review the samples. We¡¯ll decide together.¡¯


    ¡®Okay.¡¯ She still didn¡¯t sound convinced. She¡¯d never had this much responsibility before.


    I spent another half-hour going over the studio¡¯s operations with her and tried to ease her mind. That part was easy.


    Easing my own mind was harder.


    I sat on a bench in a park and called Yvaine.


    I heard wind howling in the background and asked, ¡®Where are you?¡¯


    ¡®Courchevel!¡¯ she shouted over the wind. ¡®Skiing with Cade.¡¯


    ¡®Want toe to Paris? I¡¯ll be your tour guide.¡¯


    ¡®No thanks for the tour. I¡¯ve been there too many times. But I¡¯lle, since you¡¯re my bestie. Want to show me your wedding dress? Don¡¯t tell me you still haven¡¯t picked one.¡¯


    ¡®I have. Sort of. That¡¯s part of why I want you toe. You have impable taste.¡¯


    ¡®I do. What¡¯s the other part?¡¯


    I told her briefly about Valmont & Cie¡¯s crisis and said I needed her advice.


    ¡®Sure, I¡¯lle and offer my two cents¡¯ worth. But you know business isn¡¯t my thing. That¡¯s my brother¡¯s forte. I can ask him to join the consult if you want. But the person you should really ask is Ashton. He¡¯s your partner in more than one sense.¡¯


    ¡®I know.¡¯ I sighed.


    After ending the call, I rang Ashton.


    I still didn¡¯t know how to face him, knowing that Franklin had died in prison.


    Yes, it was suicide, but he wouldn¡¯t have been there if not for Ashton.


    Was it unfair to me him, though?


    He¡¯d done it for me, after all.


    Franklin had tried to cheat me out of my inheritance, and he hadmitted those crimes.


    And after seeing how Ashton had dealt with his own father and stepmother, who were far more scheming than Franklin, I knew he¡¯d actually been lenient.


    He¡¯d only wanted to protect me.


    Still, Franklin was my father. I couldn¡¯t help buty part of the me for his death on Ashton.


    Those thoughts swirled in my head as I waited for the call to connect.


    The ringing went on and on, until a robotic voice cut in and told me to leave a message.


    I frowned at the phone.


    Why wasn¡¯t Ashton picking up?

 Chapter 267 Ashton: Dinner with the Enemy

    <h4>Chapter 267: Chapter 267 Ashton: Dinner with the Enemy</h4>


    ¡®Hey, you, stop!¡¯


    I turned and saw Antoine Marchand charging down the court steps, his face tight with anger.


    To produce a man-child like Pierre Marchand, he must have had parents who¡¯d spoiled him rotten. It turned out the indulgent parent wasn¡¯t his mother, but his father.


    An hour earlier, Antoine had burst into the courtroom with an entourage ofwyers. It was absurd overkill for a simple assault case. Thanks to their wrangling and, as Lea whispered to me, a bit of grease on the right palms, Pierre had walked away with barely a p on the wrist.


    Antoine wasn¡¯t happy. He wanted me locked up for aggravated assault, criminal damage, resisting arrest and every other offence his legal team could dream up.


    When the prosecutor let me off with a warning and a fine, Antoine went spare. He was angrier than his son, the one I had actually hit.


    ¡®Don¡¯t you think you should at least apologise?¡¯ Antoine panted as he stopped in front of me.


    The tailored suit did nothing to hide his bulging midriff. He was out of shape and out of breath.


    I shrugged. ¡®No.¡¯


    Lea gave my elbow a light tug.


    I understood what she meant, but I was not about to grovel to a middle-aged, arrogant prick so he would stop smearing me in the papers. Grovelling never worked.


    Antoine¡¯s scowl deepened and the fleshy parts of his face folded in on themselves, making him look like a butcher in a caricature. ¡®You hurt my son,¡¯ he said.


    ¡®He started it.¡¯


    ¡®He was only trying to talk to his wife.¡¯ His gaze flicked to Lea with contempt. ¡®Are you defending her because you¡¯re sleeping with her?¡¯


    Lea went pink.


    I frowned. ¡®That exins where Pierre learned his foul mouth.¡¯


    ¡®Ignore him. He¡¯s a grouchy old man with a sailor¡¯s mouth,¡¯ Fran?oise Marchand said, smiling in a way that smoothed the air. ¡®Crude words aside, he has a point. Mr Laurent, would you mind telling me exactly what your rtionship with Lea is?¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯s a friend,¡¯ I said.


    ¡®I see.¡¯ Fran?oise nodded and turned to Lea. ¡®Lea, love, drinking with a man in a barte at night does not look good for us. Pierre¡¯s reaction is understandable. He is still your husband.¡¯


    ¡®Not once he signs the divorce papers,¡¯ Lea shot back. ¡®He¡¯s dragging his feet.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll talk to him. He¡¯lle round eventually. He¡¯ll see you¡¯re not well matched and ending the marriage will be best for you both.¡¯


    Antoine snorted. ¡®I should never have let him marry you. What a mistake.¡¯


    ¡®Antoine,¡¯ Fran?oise said sharply before turning back to me. ¡®Mr Laurent, I¡¯m sorry we have dragged you into what should be a private matter, but you brought this on yourself when you shut down our Arlo SoHo hotels.¡¯


    ¡®I didn¡¯t shut them down,¡¯ I said. ¡®The fire brigade did. Your hotels had safety vitions a mile long.¡¯


    Fran?oise did not flinch. ¡®I have sacked the manager and ordered a full investigation. I would like us to sort this so that when the hotels reopen, there are no surprise inspections, and our suppliers do not suddenly sign exclusive deals elsewhere.¡¯ She held my gaze.


    ¡®That¡¯s simple,¡¯ I said. ¡®Once Lea is free from Pierre¡¯s harassment, your hotels will stop getting surprise inspections and unexpected tax audits.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t you dare threaten me!¡¯ Antoine growled. ¡®You have no idea what I can do to ruin you. One phone call and your dirtyundry will be all over the news.¡¯


    I met his stare without flinching.


    Fran?oise squeezed her husband¡¯s arm. ¡®Antoine, calm down. We came to make amends, not enemies.¡¯ Her business smile slid back on effortlessly. ¡®Pierre will need time to see our point of view, but I¡¯m confident I can persuade him. For now, let¡¯s keep business and personal matters separate, shall we?¡¯


    Normally, I would have agreed with that principle, but Lea was worth making an exception.


    I said nothing.


    Fran?oise checked her watch. ¡®Why don¡¯t I invite you to dinner, Mr Laurent? Lea, you as well. We can sit down, have a proper meal and talk things over. I¡¯m sure we can reach an understanding.¡¯


    ¡®Will Pierre stick to it?¡¯ Lea asked.


    ¡®I¡¯ll make sure he does,¡¯ Fran?oise answered.


    ¡®Fine,¡¯ I said. ¡®Tell me the time and ce.¡¯


    ¡®Excellent. I¡¯ll text you as soon as I have the booking.¡¯ Still holding her husband¡¯s thick wrist, she guided him towards a waiting limousine.


    ¡®You really think dinner with them is a good idea?¡¯ Lea asked once they had gone.


    ¡®It¡¯s worth a try. Fran?oise seems reasonable. If she convinces me she can keep Pierre in check, I¡¯ll think about easing up on their businesses.¡¯


    I climbed into the waiting car and Lea followed.


    ¡®Where to now, sir?¡¯ the driver asked.


    I almost told him Mira¡¯s hotel but stopped myself. ¡®Hotel Saint-Rivi¨¨re,¡¯ I said instead.


    The car pulled away.


    I booked a suite next to Lea¡¯s. We went over what to cover at dinner and the conditions she considered non-negotiable. Pierre¡¯s shares in Titanova were at the top of the list. She needed them back.


    ¡®I should never have let him buy those shares,¡¯ she said ruefully. ¡®Without them, I could have cut ties and walked away clean.¡¯


    ¡®Fran?oise will sell them,¡¯ I said. ¡®Those shares mean nothing to her and she won¡¯t want me going after her Skyline businesses.¡¯


    ¡®Let¡¯s hope so.¡¯


    I checked my phone. There were work emails and updates from Dominic but no messages from Mira. A low-battery warning shed.


    ¡®Give it here and I¡¯ll plug it in,¡¯ Lea said.


    I handed her the phone and went for a shower.


    When I came out, I asked, ¡®Any calls for me?¡¯


    ¡®No. Just a text from Fran?oise with the restaurant details.¡¯


    I checked. The battery was full and the call log was clear.


    I put the phone in my pocket. ¡®Let¡¯s go.¡¯


    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and


    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 268 Mira: Paris, Career, or Him?

    <h4>Chapter 268: Chapter 268 Mira: Paris, Career, or Him?</h4>


    ¡®Where¡¯s your boyfriend?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®Out shopping. He¡¯s heard of the famous Passage du D¨¦sir and is dying to check out their merchandise.¡¯ Yvaine slid into her seat and took in the restaurant with a slow nce. ¡®Nice ce you¡¯ve picked. Must be a huge favour you¡¯re about to ask, if it¡¯s got you splurging on a three-star joint.¡¯


    ¡®Only the best for my bestie.¡¯ I didn¡¯t tell her how much of a relief it was to see her. She didn¡¯t have to say a word; just having her here anchored me in this foreign city. It wasn¡¯t advice I needed so much as herpany.


    She seemed in good spirits, cheeks glowing from all that skiing. Still, I waited until after dessert, when she was pleasantly full and riding a sugar high, to bring it up.


    ¡®You bloody idiot,¡¯ she said. Her tone was soft and contented, like a cat with a belly full of cream. It was nothing like the screeching judgment she¡¯d hurled at me over the phone a few days ago.


    I spread my hands. ¡®I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve got a reason for saying that.¡¯


    ¡®Have you talked to Ashton?¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯


    ¡®Why not? Still avoiding him?¡¯


    ¡®No. I just...¡¯ I couldn¡¯t face him. ¡®He¡¯s not answering his phone.¡¯


    Yvaine rolled her eyes. ¡®What is this, apetition to see who can ignore the other longest? Pathetic.¡¯


    I traced the stem of my winess. ¡®Forget him. I want your opinion.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯d say take it.¡¯


    ¡®You mean I should buy Valmont & Cie?¡¯


    ¡®Obviously. Even I¡¯ve heard of them. Big name in jewellery, right? It¡¯d be a crime to let them fold just because their boss is an idiot.¡¯


    ¡®If I buy Valmont, I¡¯d have to stay in Paris.¡¯


    ¡®And? Paris is gorgeous if you look past the drugs, the pickpockets, and the stink from the sewers.¡¯


    ¡®Then I¡¯d be away from Skyline. From you.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t be daft. I¡¯ll visit every other week. I love Domaine de Primard, and Cade¡¯s always up for a trip.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯d be away from Ashton.¡¯


    ¡®Ha!¡¯ Yvaine jabbed her dessert spoon at me. ¡®Finally. So it¡¯s career or man, is it?¡¯


    ¡®What would you choose?¡¯


    ¡®Career, without blinking. But that¡¯s me. I love my cake shops, and Cade isn¡¯t Ashton.¡¯


    I knew what she meant. Cade was a boyfriend, one in a string before him and, knowing Yvaine, a string after.


    Ashton was different. He was my fianc¨¦, the man I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with.


    ¡®I¡¯d be sad for a couple of days if Cade and I broke up, then I¡¯d get over it. Can you say the same about Ashton?¡¯ Yvaine¡¯s eyes gleamed with challenge.


    I looked away. She always knew where to stick the knife.


    ¡®You don¡¯t love him, do you?¡¯ she asked.


    That onended harder.


    Yvaine sighed. ¡®Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you should have stayed with Rhys. You¡¯re two of a kind.¡¯


    I frowned. ¡®I don¡¯t have feelings for Rhys. Not anymore.¡¯


    ¡®I mean you two share the same twisted view on rtionships. You only want what you can¡¯t have. Once you¡¯ve got it, you lose interest.¡¯


    ¡®I disagree.¡¯


    ¡®You were all in when you and Ashton were fake married. Once it became real, you froze. You¡¯ve dragged your feet on the wedding, and now Valmont is the perfect excuse to run. Don¡¯t bother arguing.¡¯ She raised a finger to cut me off. ¡®Rhys and Catherine are divorced. Did you know?¡¯


    I didn¡¯t, though it hardly surprised me.


    ¡®Remember how he pined for her when you two were together?¡¯ Yvaine¡¯s tone dripped with disdain. ¡®He lost his mind over a bloody mug she owned, as if she were the only woman in the world. Then they got married, her halo slipped, and his rose-tinted specs shattered. Now he¡¯s got you in his sights. Mark my words, once you¡¯re back at Skyline, expect the full romantic onught.¡¯


    ¡®I won¡¯t¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Excuse me.¡¯ A waiter appeared with two sses of Chateau Cheval nc. ¡®Compliments of the gentleman at table twelve.¡¯


    I followed his gaze to a man in a tuxedo, ss raised, smile loaded with invitation. One nod and he¡¯d be at our table.


    ¡®Time to go,¡¯ I said.


    Yvaine stood too.


    I paid, and we stepped outside.


    Cade was leaning against the wall as if he¡¯d been waiting.


    ¡®Hello, Mirabelle.¡¯ His smile was perfect as always, but something was off.


    Yvaine clocked it instantly. ¡®What?¡¯


    He gave me an apologetic nce, then steered her out of earshot.


    A muffled curse from Yvaer, she was marching back, dragging Cade with her. ¡®Of course you should tell her.¡¯


    ¡®Tell me what?¡¯


    Cade shifted.


    Yvaine jabbed him in the ribs. ¡®Go on.¡¯


    ¡®Cade?¡¯ I prompted.


    ¡®Ashton was having dinner in a restaurant nearby,¡¯ he said, eyes still anywhere but mine.


    ¡®And?¡¯


    ¡®He wasn¡¯t alone. There was a middle-aged couple, a woman... and a man who might be part of the group but I can¡¯t be sure.¡¯


    ¡®The woman... blonde, blue eyes, stunning, built like a Roman goddess?¡¯


    He nodded. ¡®The couple left first. Ashton and the woman came out together as I was walking past.¡¯


    ¡®And?¡¯


    ¡®Then the guy came out after them. Looked furious, maybe drunk. He shook his fist. I couldn¡¯t hear what they said. The woman said something, he got angrier. Then she...¡¯ Cade trailed off.


    ¡®Say it,¡¯ Yvaine said. ¡®She needs to know.¡¯


    Cade met my eyes atst. ¡®She kissed Ashton.¡¯


    Yvaine twisted the knife. ¡®On the lips, not the cheek.¡¯

 Chapter 269 Ashton: The Breaking Point

    <h4>Chapter 269: Chapter 269 Ashton: The Breaking Point</h4>


    ¡®I¡¯m sorry.¡¯ Lea handed me a tissue. ¡®Here. For the... lipstick.¡¯


    I took it and wiped my lips hard. ¡®What the hell was that?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m sorry,¡¯ she said again, head down. ¡®I don¡¯t know what I was thinking. He kept yelling that I wouldn¡¯t find a man better than him, that no one would want me except him, that I was some kind of reject. I was pissed off. I just wanted to prove him wrong.¡¯


    ¡®You could have done that without kissing me,¡¯ I said, irritated. ¡®There are better ways.¡¯


    ¡®I know, but I wasn¡¯t thinking, okay? It was stupid, and I¡¯m sorry. It won¡¯t happen again.¡¯


    I looked out of the car window at the blur of buildings. ¡®Forget it.¡¯


    It was an understandablepse, I suppose. Anyone could lose their head dealing with a man like Pierre. Still, I wish she hadn¡¯t made it.


    ¡®At least he signed the divorce papers,¡¯ I said atst. So the dinner tonight hadn¡¯t been aplete waste.


    ¡®I know, and I can¡¯t tell you how relieved I am,¡¯ Lea said.


    Was she, though? I had my doubts.


    The way she talked about him when he wasn¡¯t around and the way she behaved when he was there made me question whether she was truly over Pierre.


    Usually so rational and cool-headed, she turned into¡ªthough I hated to admit it¡ªa dimmer, weaker version of herself around him. She probably had a case of love-brain.


    I promised myself I would help her this one time. If she went back to Pierre again, I wouldn¡¯t lift a finger.


    The car slowed to a stop in front of the hotel.


    ¡®Aren¡¯t youing?¡¯ Lea asked when she saw I hadn¡¯t moved.


    ¡®No. I¡¯ve got somewhere else to be. Get some rest.¡¯ I watched her disappear into the lobby, then told the driver to take me to Mira¡¯s hotel.


    She¡¯d had enough alone time. She hadn¡¯t called or texted me all day. She could me me for her father¡¯s death, she couldsh out, but I wouldn¡¯t ept this silence, this deliberate avoidance.


    I got out in front of the building and took the lift up to her floor.


    She was still awake, as I¡¯d expected.


    ¡®I was just about to call you,¡¯ she said when she opened the door. She was still fully dressed despite thete hour. Normally, she¡¯d be in her pyjamas by now.


    Another unsettling sign sat on the coffee table: an almost empty bottle of Chateau Margaux.


    ¡®You¡¯ve been drinking,¡¯ I said.


    ¡®Yeah.¡¯ She followed my gaze to the bottle. She smiled faintly, but not with embarrassment, then returned to the sofa. ¡®I thought I could do it sober. Turns out I still needed some Dutch courage.¡¯


    ¡®Do what?¡¯ I stepped closer, a tight knot forming in my gut.


    ¡®No.¡¯ She gave my shoulder a light shove when I sat beside her. ¡®Take the chair opposite. I stink of wine.¡¯


    I frowned but did as she asked, sitting in the armchair across from her. A coffee tabley between us.


    ¡®I¡¯m sorry about Franklin,¡¯ I said. I should have said it earlier, when I first told her about his death.


    Mira didn¡¯t appear to hear me. She sat with her legs tucked under her, reached for the bottle, drank straight from it, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.


    When she finally looked at me, her eyes were red.


    ¡®Have you been crying? What¡¯s wrong?¡¯ I stood, moving towards her.


    ¡®No.¡¯ She waved me back. ¡®Stay where you are. I need some distance. To do this right.¡¯


    ¡®Mira.¡¯ The unease in my gut deepened.


    ¡®Just sit, please.¡¯


    Why hadn¡¯t I noticed the tremor in her voice earlier?


    I sat, keeping my eyes on her. Had she been grieving for Franklin?


    ¡®Is there anything you¡¯d like to tell me?¡¯ she asked, her gaze fixed on mine. Her eyes, usually clear and lit with warmth, were hooded, red-rimmed, and impossible to read.


    ¡®About Franklin?¡¯


    ¡®No. Not that. The other thing.¡¯


    ¡®What other thing?¡¯


    ¡®How was your day?¡¯


    I frowned. She wasn¡¯t making sense.


    ¡®How was your day?¡¯ she repeated, leaning forward as if she could see straight through me. She looked ready to keep asking until she got the answer she wanted.


    ¡®It was fine.¡¯ I thought of the court case, the Marchands, then the dinner where Lea finally cut ties with her abusive husband.


    ¡®That¡¯s it? Just fine?¡¯


    That was clearly not the answer she wanted.


    I nodded. ¡®What¡¯s wrong?¡¯


    ¡®Is there anything else you¡¯d like to tell me? Anything at all? About, say, dinner? Did you enjoy it?¡¯


    ¡®Dinner was fine.¡¯


    My certainty that she was drunk grew with every passing second. She was incoherent, her thoughts scattered.


    ¡®That¡¯s it? That¡¯s all you¡¯ve got to say?¡¯ Her stare didn¡¯t waver.


    For a moment, I almost felt as if she knew about the kiss. My hand twitched towards my mouth, to check if Lea¡¯s lipstick stain was still there, but I stopped myself.


    ¡®That¡¯s it,¡¯ I said.


    Mira was drunk, hurting, and not thinking straight. Better to bring up Lea when she was sober.


    She slumped back into the sofa, hugging a throw pillow to her knees and burying her face in it. She stayed like that for so long, I began to think she¡¯d fallen asleep.


    ¡®Mira?¡¯


    Just as I was about to stand and check on her, she lifted her head. She tossed the pillow aside, lurched to her feet, gripped her engagement ring and slid it off.


    She held it out to me in her palm. ¡®I think you¡¯d better keep this.¡¯


    I stared at her, my brain refusing to process what I was seeing. The dread that had been gnawing at me since I arrived solidified into certainty.


    ¡®No.¡¯


    She grabbed my hand and pressed the ring into it. ¡®Just take it.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re breaking up with me.¡¯ Why?


    ¡®I don¡¯t think this can work.¡¯ Tears streaked her cheeks. ¡®I¡¯ve decided to buy Valmont & Cie. I¡¯m relocating to Paris. We can¡¯t be together.¡¯

 Chapter 270 Mira: Breaking Point

    <h4>Chapter 270: Chapter 270 Mira: Breaking Point</h4>


    ¡®Bullshit.¡¯ Ashton¡¯s fingers dug into my shoulders. ¡®That¡¯s a bullshit excuse.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m signing the papers tomorrow,¡¯ I said.


    I didn¡¯t know what hurt more¡ªhis grip, sharp enough to bruise, or the look on his face.


    I¡¯d never been a big fan of alcohol, but tonight, drinking had been the smart choice. At least it dulled the pain.


    ¡®No.¡¯ He refused to let go when I tried to shake him off. ¡®You don¡¯t get to end this unterally. I get a say. You can¡¯t just toss the ring at me and walk away.¡¯


    I gave up struggling and sank into the sofa, suddenly exhausted. ¡®Working in Paris is my dream. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I can¡¯t¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Bullshit!¡¯ The word tore out of him, raw and jagged. His usual coolness was gone. He loomed over me, hands pinning me in ce, breath hot against my cheeks. ¡®You could¡¯ve told me. I¡¯d never have stopped you buying thepany. So what if it¡¯s in Paris? That doesn¡¯t mean we¡¯re over. It¡¯s not like you¡¯re moving to fucking Mars. Tell me the real reason.¡¯


    ¡®That IS the reason.¡¯ I looked away.


    I¡¯d miscalcted; one bottle of wine wasn¡¯t enough to face Ashton¡¯s razor-edged gaze or the predatory aura rolling off him. Like the first time we¡¯d met, I was acutely aware of the difference between us¡ªnot just in size, but in sheer presence.


    It wasn¡¯t fear of him hurting me. It was the instinctive knowledge that he could. The same primal rm that had screamed at me to run when we first met. He¡¯d dialled it back since then, consciously or not, but now it was unleashed again.


    He gripped my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes, dark with storm-lit fury. ¡®Tell me the truth.¡¯


    ¡®It is the truth.¡¯


    His sneer was sharp enough to cut. ¡®You think I¡¯m that stupid? You¡¯re ending us over a job you didn¡¯t even bother discussing with me?¡¯


    ¡®Would you have approved?¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s not the fucking point. The point is you assumed. You made it a fait apli.¡¯


    ¡®Would it have changed anything?¡¯


    ¡®There you go again.¡¯ His voice dropped to a growl. ¡®Assuming. Skipping the whole damn conversation.¡¯


    He stood abruptly, fists clenched, pacing like a caged animal.


    Watching him, something inside me snapped.


    The guilt I¡¯d carried all night twisted into anger¡ªat him.


    ¡®Oh, now you want honesty,¡¯ I said.


    ¡®Is that too much to ask from the woman I nned to spend my life with?¡¯ He stopped just long enough to re, then resumed pacing, as if stillness was unbearable.


    ¡®Don¡¯t act like you¡¯ve been transparent. Like you¡¯re meless.¡¯


    ¡®What did I do?¡¯ In one motion, he hauled me up, sat, and dumped me onto hisp.


    I squirmed. ¡®Let me go.¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯ His grip was iron. ¡®Look at me. What did I do?¡¯


    ¡®Fine. You want the truth?¡¯ Trapped against him, Ished out. ¡®You cut your Paris trip short, missed the wedding fitting, because you flew back to Skyline with another woman.¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯s a¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t interrupt!¡¯ I shoved his chest. ¡®She¡¯s a friend, that¡¯s what you were going to say? Do you kiss all your friends in the street? Don¡¯t bother denying it. Yvaine¡¯s boyfriend saw you. Should I call him?¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡®There were reasons. It was a mistake, but¡ª¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t care about reasons! I care that you omitted it when I asked¡ªrepeatedly¡ªif something happened at dinner. You didn¡¯t say a word about her, about the kiss. Sins of omission are deadlier thanmission.¡¯


    His body heat was stifling. I shoved hard, breaking free.


    ¡®I can exin,¡¯ he said.


    ¡®Toote. I don¡¯t want to hear it.¡¯


    Ashton stood slowly. I stepped back, but he didn¡¯t follow. His breathing had evened out, the fury banked. Once again, he was the unshakable CEO.


    ¡®That¡¯s still not the truth,¡¯ he said calmly.


    ¡®What the hell are you¡ª¡¯ I cut myself off. ¡®No. Never mind. It¡¯s over. Pick whatever reason makes you feel better¡ªwork, jealousy, I don¡¯t care. I¡¯m done.¡¯


    Silence. Thick, suffocating.


    I grabbed my purse.


    ¡®Where are you going?¡¯ He blocked the door.


    ¡®This is your ce. I¡¯ll leave.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re right. It is my ce.¡¯ His voice had gone cold. He released my wrist. ¡®But I¡¯m not heartless enough to throw you out at night. Stay. But by tomorrow afternoon, I want you gone.¡¯


    He walked past me, gripped the doorknob.


    Then he was gone.

 Chapter 271 Mira: Cruise

    <h4>Chapter 271: Chapter 271 Mira: Cruise</h4>


    ¡®See you.¡¯ I stood at the door, waving as ¨¦tienne climbed into the car with the rest of his delegation, my smile fixed in ce.


    The moment the cars disappeared down the drive, my team erupted into cheers.


    Peter Carl crushed me in a hug. Louis-Fran?ois nearly tripped over his own feet sprinting back inside for the case of champagne he had been saving.


    ¡®We did it!¡¯ Cl¨¦mentine flung her arms around us, her voice thick with emotion. ¡®Mirabelle, we did it!¡¯


    I wriggled free, grinning until my cheeks ached. ¡®Yeah. We did.¡¯


    After two gruelling months, our autumn/winter jewellery collection was finallyunched. Today¡¯s meeting sealed the deal with Cartier¡¯s Paris distribution arm. Soon, our nes, earrings and statement pieces would adorn runway models and grace the pages of Vogue, Elle and Harper¡¯s Bazaar.


    Valmont & Cie was still bleeding from the financial crater Fabrizio had left, but this was a start. A damn good one.


    The team herded me into the conference room. Champagne corks popped, sses clinked,ughter and tears mingled.


    The celebration stretched from afternoon to dusk, but I bowed out when they proposed moving on to Le Procope and then a bar.


    ¡®You have toe!¡¯ Peter Carl pleaded. ¡®You¡¯re the reason we¡¯re still standing.¡¯


    ¡®Not a chance.¡¯ I pointed at the shadows under my eyes. ¡®I¡¯ve looked like a sleep-deprived panda for weeks. Time to reim my humanity.¡¯


    I rang the restaurant to put the team¡¯s dinner on thepany tab, then sent them off, still giddy.


    I slid into my rented Peugeot 208 and drove back to my t on Rue de Rivoli.


    I had moved out of Ashton¡¯s building the day after we broke up.


    Two months of silence followed.


    I¡¯d buried myself in work and, when that failed, in wine¡ªjust enough to knock me out before the memories could surface.


    ¡®Get a grip,¡¯ I whispered each night, reaching for a warmth that was no longer there.


    It took a week to stop making coffee for two.


    For sixty days straight, I arrived before the cleaners and left after everyone else. I would have slept at the office if Peter Carl hadn¡¯t threatened to report me for fire hazards.


    Now, with theunch over, I had no excuses left. Just an empty t and a microwave meal for one.


    I called Priya halfway through my sad dinner.


    ¡®Sales dipped slightly this month,¡¯ she said.


    ¡®Expected.¡¯ Mira Joie bore my name, and with me gone, it was bound to happen.


    ¡®The new OEM factory¡¯s a dream. Faster turnaround, cheaper rates. I¡¯m tempted to shift all production there instead of splitting orders.¡¯


    ¡®Do it.¡¯ I half-listened as she talked about lost-wax casting and electroforming, but my focus slipped.


    I had avoided calling Priya, preferring email.


    Priya meant Skyline City. Skyline City meant Ashton.


    And Ashton meant silence.


    Yvaine once said: ¡®A good ex is a dead ex.¡¯


    She would cheer if hers vanished as cleanly as Ashton had.


    I had felt the same about Rhys. Every unwanted reappearance after the breakup had chipped away at what little goodwill remained.


    So why did Ashton¡¯s absence feel like a wound?


    ***


    Yvaine kicked open my t door without knocking. ¡®Up. Now. You¡¯re not rotting here tonight.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t look up from my wine. ¡®I¡¯m busy.¡¯


    She snatched the bottle from my hands. ¡®Staring at walls isn¡¯t a hobby.¡¯


    Before I could protest, she hauled me to my feet and into a taxi.


    La Lune was all neon and sweat, the air thick with perfume and bass. On stage, a man in a police uniform¡ªbadly unbuttoned¡ªswung round a pole to the roar of the crowd.


    Yvaine shoved me into a velvet booth. ¡®Two vodka sodas. And tell Antoine I want the special for her.¡¯ She jerked a thumb at me.


    ¡®No specials,¡¯ I said.


    ¡®Rubbish.¡¯ She leaned in. ¡®You need something to loosen up. Two months is plenty to get over a man. Even one like Ashton.¡¯


    ¡®I am over him.¡¯


    The drinks arrived, followed by a man¡ªtall, dark-haired, with a jawline that nearly hit right angles.


    His smile was too slick, his eyes too eager.


    ¡®This one¡¯s shy,¡¯ Yvaine told him, sliding a fifty into his waistband. ¡®Be persuasive.¡¯


    He knelt in front of me, fingers trailing up my thigh. ¡®You¡¯re much prettier than the other girls here.¡¯


    My skin crawled. ¡®Don¡¯t.¡¯


    He grinned, undeterred, and leaned closer. ¡®Come on, ch¨¦rie¡ª¡¯


    I shoved him back hard enough to topple him onto the floor.


    Yvaine groaned. ¡®Christ, Mira. You¡¯re acting like he¡¯s diseased.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not paying to be groped by a stranger.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re not paying, I am.¡¯ She flicked her nails at the dancer. ¡®Go on, then. She¡¯s hopeless.¡¯


    As he slunk away, Yvaine spun on me. ¡®My new boyfriend¡¯s a model. He¡¯s got friends. Hot ones. We could do double dates.¡¯


    ¡®No thanks. I¡¯m fine.¡¯


    ¡®Liar.¡¯ She jabbed a finger at my chest. ¡®You¡¯re not fine. You¡¯re just saying you are.¡¯


    The music pounded, too loud. I knocked back my drink. ¡®Can we just not?¡¯


    She opened her mouth, then huffed. ¡®Fine. But you¡¯re drinking properly tonight.¡¯


    We did.


    An hourter, Yvaine abandoned me for a drinking game with a group of men who looked as if they had been carved from the same marble b. I slipped away, climbing the stairs to the rooftop terrace.


    Cold air hit my face. Below, Paris glittered. Above, fireworks exploded in gold streaks¡ªjust like the ones Ashton had arranged for my birthday.


    I pulled out my phone. Missed calls from Rhys and Daniel.


    Nothing from Ashton.


    When I returned to the booth, Yvaine shoved something at me. ¡®Take this.¡¯


    ¡®What is it?¡¯ I looked down at the envelope.


    ¡®Cruise to the Mediterranean. You need to get away from work. A change of scenery will do you good.¡¯


    She had a point. I took the envelope. ¡®Are youing with me?¡¯


    ¡®Nope. It¡¯s a singles¡¯ cruise. And you¡¯re getting on that ship if I have to hogtie you and throw you on board myself.¡¯


    ¡®Still haven¡¯t given up on fixing me up, have you?¡¯


    ¡®No, and I won¡¯t stop until I see a genuine happy smile on that face of yours.¡¯


    I leaned down and kissed my best friend¡¯s forehead. ¡®Thanks, Yvie.¡¯

 Chapter 272 Mira: A Couple at a Singles’ Event

    <h4>Chapter 272: Chapter 272 Mira: A Couple at a Singles¡¯ Event</h4>


    ¡®You¡¯re a liar,¡¯ I said the moment she picked up the phone.


    ¡®What did I do?¡¯ Yvaine yawned.


    ¡®You told me this was a singles¡¯ cruise.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s not.¡¯


    ¡®Why not?¡¯


    ¡®I saw Ashton.¡¯ I closed my eyes, but his image wouldn¡¯t leave.


    It had been close to three months since I¡¯dst seen him.


    It should have been impossible, yet he seemed taller somehow.


    Everyone else wore T-shirts and Bermuda shorts. He had shed his jacket, but the ck shirt and ck trousers remained, making him both impossible to ignore and impossible to approach. Add his aura of aloofness, that silent warning to keep away, and people steered clear.


    Even the girls brave enough to be drawn in by his face lost their nerve when they noticed the woman beside him.


    ¡®Did you?¡¯ Yvaine¡¯s voice was falsely surprised. ¡®What a coincidence.¡¯


    ¡®Liar. Did he put you up to this?¡¯


    ¡®Nope.¡¯


    ¡®Lie again.¡¯


    ¡®Still nope. He¡¯s single, isn¡¯t he? So are you. Like I said, this is a singles¡¯ cruise.¡¯


    Smugness clung to her words no matter how hard she tried to hide it.


    ¡®This isn¡¯t over. The moment I get off this ship, I¡¯ming to your house¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Yeah, yeah. You can do whatever you like when you get off. Which won¡¯t be for another week. Meanwhile, have fun!¡¯


    She hung up.


    I tossed my phone onto the bed and then followed it, t on my back, staring at the low ceiling.


    Seven days, trapped on the same boat as Ashton, the man I had spent two months trying my damned hardest to forget.


    Could there be anything worse?


    Turned out, the answer was yes.


    The only thing worse than running into your ex was running into him with his new girlfriend, while you stood there pathetically alone.


    At the wee ball, which was basically a singles¡¯ mixer, I had wanted to turn and leave the moment I saw them. But the crowd behind me¡ªa pack of college kids¡ªpushed forward, and I was carried with them.


    Lea wore a wine-red dress with a ring hem, auburn hair pinned in an elegant knot. She clearly loved red, and I had to admit, it suited her.


    She wasn¡¯t clinging to Ashton¡¯s arm, but the way she leaned in close, whispering now and then, made it clear enough they were together.


    I kept my distance, though I couldn¡¯t keep my eyes off him.


    He must have felt it.


    The moment he turned his head, I ducked behind a column.


    Then I cursed myself. Why was I hiding?


    ¡®Hi there.¡¯ Lea appeared in front of me, ss of wine in one hand, the other extended. ¡®I¡¯m Lea Lopez.¡¯


    I shook her hand briefly. ¡®Mirabelle Vance.¡¯


    She smiled. ¡®I know. We should have met a long time ago, in Paris.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah,¡¯ I said drily.


    I knew exactly what she meant. Her arrival in Ashton¡¯s life had marked the beginning of the end of ours.


    I nced past her. Ashton had disappeared.


    ¡®Didn¡¯t expect to run into you here,¡¯ she said.


    ¡®Same here.¡¯ I wanted to slip away, but she blocked the exit.


    Then, suddenly, she said, ¡®I envy you.¡¯


    ¡®Huh?¡¯


    Her voice was gentle, oddly at odds with her striking looks. ¡®I was an orphan. People said my birth father was a murderer. I was bullied for it. Later, I was adopted, but it wasn¡¯t the life-changing gift I¡¯d imagined. It was...¡¯ Her voice faded.


    I frowned, baffled by why she was telling me this.


    ¡®People raised in loving families can¡¯t understand those like me. Luckily, I met others with simr backgrounds. Ashton, Kylian, Olivier. At first, we looked out for each other. Then we started running... operations. Not exactly on the right side of thew, but it brought in money. And money meant independence. Freedom from the families we despised. That was all we wanted.¡¯


    I shifted on my feet. What was this? A sympathy bid? A boast that she had known him longer than I had? I already knew that.


    Lea¡¯s tone softened. ¡®I get why he was drawn to you. You had difficult parents too, but you turned out differently from us. You¡¯re not bitter or vindictive. You¡¯re... normal. Opposites attract, I suppose.¡¯


    My brow furrowed.


    Her smile brightened again. ¡®But it neversts. Sooner orter, you realise you and Ash don¡¯t share the same outlook. You¡¯re too different. The rtionship was doomed from the start.¡¯


    Ah. There it was. She was here to gloat.


    ¡®Ashton and I are over,¡¯ I said evenly. ¡®The rtionship has already failed. Are you telling me this just to congratte yourself on predicting it?¡¯


    Before she could reply, a man¡¯s voice cut in. ¡®May I have this dance?¡¯ He was looking at her.


    She smiled, took his hand. ¡®Of course.¡¯ She threw me a gracious smile before gliding onto the dance floor with him.


    ¡®May I have the pleasure of this dance, mydy?¡¯ A French-looking man in a white tuxedo bowed before me, hand extended.


    He was handsome in a dandy way, with a smile that called to mind a young Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic.


    ¡®I¡¯m not good at dancing.¡¯


    ¡®I could teach you,¡¯ he said.


    Persistent, but not pushy.


    I nodded.


    But before I could take his arm, an iron grip closed round my wrist. ¡®She¡¯s taken.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s a shame.¡¯ The man nced between us, shrugged, and walked away.


    ¡®What are you doing here?¡¯ I pulled free of Ashton¡¯s grasp.


    ¡®I could ask you the same thing.¡¯ His voice was as hard as his expression.


    ¡®I don¡¯t owe you an answer.¡¯ I stepped back, putting space between us. ¡®If you¡¯re looking for your girlfriend, she¡¯s over there, dancing.¡¯


    Ashton frowned, following my pointing hand. ¡®Lea¡¯s¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Not my concern. I¡¯m hungry.¡¯


    I fled.


    Damn it. I stuffed myself with prawns in garlic butter, muttering curses in my head. Why couldn¡¯t I act normal around him? I had thought I could. Smile politely, treat him like any other man, maybe ask how he was and wish him and Lea well.


    But the words refused toe.


    I couldn¡¯t bear to hear him say her name, couldn¡¯t bear the end of that unfinished sentence.


    Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.


    I was the one who broke up with him. So why was I still so hung up?


    Maybe I wasn¡¯t. Maybe I just hated the thought that he had already moved on while I was still stuck in the past.


    Determined to prove otherwise, I epted the next man¡¯s invitation to dance.


    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lea now dancing with Ashton. The music swelled, the pace quickened. They drew closer to where I stood.


    Someone bumped me from behind. I faltered, tripped on my heel, and heard the rip of fabric.


    Lea gasped. Her hand flew to her chest. I had stepped on the hem of her dress, and one of its narrow straps slipped from her shoulder, baring even more skin.


    Ashton immediately shrugged off his tuxedo jacket and draped it over her.


    ¡®You all right?¡¯ he asked.


    ¡®I¡¯m fine.¡¯ She straightened, clutching the jacket. She nced at me.


    I opened my mouth to apologise, but the words froze as I stared at his jacket around her shoulders.


    I kept staring as they left the ballroom together.

 Chapter 273 Ashton: Betrayal

    <h4>Chapter 273: Chapter 273 Ashton: Betrayal</h4>


    ¡®You¡¯ve really changed,¡¯ Lea said, turning to look at me. ¡®When you said you wanted to go on a cruise, I thought you were joking.¡¯


    ¡®Yet here we are.¡¯ I stood at the railing, gazing out at the Mediterranean. September dusk had painted the sea in shifting shades of violet and gold, the horizon glowing as the sun sank lower.


    Not everyone had gone to the ball. Out on deck, clusters of young passengers mingled andughed. Some were taking selfies against the pink sky, others pointed excitedly as dolphins arced from the water. Music drifted faintly from the ballroom doors, but out here the sound was mostlyughter, the p of waves and the click of cameras.


    Lea inhaled deeply. ¡®It¡¯s beautiful. Thanks for bringing me out here.¡¯


    I said nothing.


    ¡®We should have stayed and said hello to Mirabelle,¡¯ she added, testing me.


    ¡®I will,¡¯ I said. ¡®Just not now.¡¯ I would speak to Mira once I had dealt with Lea.


    The thought of Mira¡¯s face propelled me away from the railing. ¡®You need to get changed.¡¯


    She was still wearing my jacket.


    ¡®Step inside for a moment,¡¯ I said when we reached my suite.


    Lea arched a brow but followed me in. ¡®A nightcap?¡¯ she asked lightly. ¡®I¡¯d prefer a ss of¡ª¡¯ Her words broke off as I flicked on the light. ¡®What¡¯s this?¡¯


    We weren¡¯t alone.


    Two chairs sat in the centre of the living area. In one, an old man with thinning grey hair stared at the floor, resignation etched across his face. In the other, a man in his early thirties with golden hair looked shifty and ashamed.


    ¡®Don¡¯t you recognise your own husband?¡¯ I asked. ¡®Say hello to Pierre.¡¯


    Lea stumbled back, but I blocked the door.


    ¡®Ashton, what is this? Why is Pierre here?¡¯


    ¡®My men spent weeks getting the truth out of him,¡¯ I said. ¡®So there¡¯s no point lying anymore.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t understand.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m sorry, Lea,¡¯ Pierre rasped, his voice hoarse. ¡®I had to tell them. They¡¯d have cut me off.¡¯


    Her chest heaved.


    I pressed on before she could spin another lie, her greatest talent. ¡®I found the drug you used to control him. My men turned the same method back on himply, or suffer a cold withdrawal. It took three days before he cracked.¡¯


    ¡®Ashton, I can exin¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Pierre¡¯s a wastrel, yes. A yboy, useless with money. But he¡¯s not violent. His parents swear it, his friends swear it, even his mistresses do. Only you im otherwise. He says he neverid a hand on you. One of you has to be lying.¡¯


    Her face drained of colour. ¡®Ashton, please.¡¯


    ¡®I couldn¡¯t understand why you¡¯d lie about something like that, why you¡¯d im a man who follows you like a dog had abused you. If you wanted to divorce him, you could have filed the papers. You didn¡¯t need a story. I would have helped you, even without one. That was why I hesitated after hearing Pierre¡¯s confession. I didn¡¯t want to believe the woman I¡¯d known half my life, fought beside, trusted with my life, would manipte me like that.¡¯


    ¡®Ashton¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Until I found him.¡¯ I gestured to the old man in the other chair, barely awake. ¡®Recognise him?¡¯


    She looked away.


    ¡®He¡¯s the one who paid Dr Ali¨¦nor Dubois to sabotage Mira at the Aureate Awards. Yet he has no link to her. He doesn¡¯t even know Mira. So why spend six figures bribing someone to destroy her work? Until I found out he used to work for you.¡¯


    ¡®No, Ashton, it¡¯s not¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Let me finish.¡¯ I raised a hand. ¡®That first attempt failed. Did you really think I¡¯d leave her over a scandal? I know how much her designs mean to her, and I knew she¡¯d never cheat. Maybe that¡¯s what gave you the second idea. You were the one who helped Fabrizio Marchetti escape France. You knew Mira couldn¡¯t resist taking over his crumbling brand. You dangled it in front of her like bait.¡¯


    Lea regained herposure quickly, slipping back into the calm, cool-headed version of herself. ¡®That may be true, but no one forced her to take the bait. No one forced her to stay in Paris. No one forced her to break up with you.¡¯


    The jabnded. I breathed through the sharp twist in my chest and carried on. ¡®You tried to ruin her. You destroyed your own husband with lies. Put those two together, it¡¯s clear you were aiming for me.¡¯


    She didn¡¯t even flinch. She nodded, steady and shameless. ¡®I wanted you. You taught me to do whatever it takes. Remember?¡¯


    ¡®I remember. But I also remember telling you never to use those tricks on one of our own.¡¯


    ¡®If I¡¯d asked you openly, would you have said yes?¡¯


    ¡®But you never asked.¡¯


    Her eyes locked on mine, brimming with everything but regret. I had taught her too well.


    ¡®I couldn¡¯t,¡¯ she said. ¡®I was married to Pierre. He¡¯s a good man in his way, but not what I wanted. I couldn¡¯t tell you while I was still his wife. I needed time. Then I heard about you and Mirabelle.¡¯ She clenched her fists. ¡®I just needed a few more months.¡¯ She reached for my hand. ¡®But it¡¯s not toote now. I¡¯m single. You¡¯re single. We can finally¡ª¡¯


    I pulled my hand free. ¡®No.¡¯


    ¡®Why not?¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t feel that way about you. Never did. Never will.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t believe that. We¡¯ve known each other for years. I know you better than she ever could.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t care what you believe.¡¯ I opened the door wide. ¡®Leave. When this cruise is over, I expect you gone from my life.¡¯


    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and


    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 274 Mira: Scuba Diving

    <h4>Chapter 274: Chapter 274 Mira: Scuba Diving</h4>


    ¡®Mira.¡¯


    ¡®Damn it,¡¯ I muttered under my breath, then got up to leave.


    ¡®Stay.¡¯ Ashton blocked my way.


    I nced around, searching for an escape route.


    The restaurant was one of three on board, and this wasn¡¯t even lunchtime. I thought I¡¯d be safe here. How did he even find me?


    ¡®I¡¯m busy,¡¯ I said.


    ¡®Doing what?¡¯


    I nearly said ¡®work¡¯, the excuse I¡¯d used for the past two months, then remembered I was on a cruise ship.


    A group of guys strolled past, carrying scuba gear.


    ¡®Diving,¡¯ I blurted. ¡®I signed up for a ss, and I¡¯m runningte.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯lle with you.¡¯


    I let out an exasperated sigh. ¡®I don¡¯t want you toe with me. Shouldn¡¯t you be enjoying this perfect afternoon with your new girlfriend?¡¯


    I pushed past him without waiting for an answer.


    He caught up easily.


    I started jogging.


    He kept pace.


    People turned their heads as we passed, probably thinking we were a pair of lunatics.


    I kept running until we reached the spot where the diving coaches were instructing a group of young men.


    I rented gear and told the instructor I didn¡¯t need lessons, since I had a diving licence. He checked and nodded.


    Through it all, Ashton stayed close. I strapped on my gear, and he did the same.


    I almost asked him where he¡¯d got his licence. I never knew he could dive. But I bit my tongue.


    Asking meant talking, and right now, that was thest thing I wanted.


    I slipped into the water and swam a short distance.


    But the day was perfect, the sea warm, which meant the shallower spots were crowded.


    I tried to take a few underwater photos, but all I got were heads and iling arms.


    So I swam further out.


    Ashton was always in the corner of my vision, never far away.


    I ignored him and tried to recall something I¡¯d read about this stretch of sea.


    ording to the website, the Mediterranean¡¯s greatest hidden treasure was a spot nearby, with crystal-clear waters and rare marine life. Hardly anyone knew about it. But it was risky, since the area was undeveloped.


    Back on the ship, I rented a small boat fitted with GPS and keyed in the coordinates.


    Ashton boarded despite my cold silence. I tolerated him. It wasn¡¯t as if I could shove him overboard.


    Half an hourter, I spotted a tiny islet.


    ¡®Don¡¯t,¡¯ Ashton said as the boat slowed.


    ¡®What?¡¯


    ¡®A ce this remote, not even on the maps, could hide unknown dangers.¡¯


    ¡®If you¡¯re scared, stay on the boat,¡¯ I said, daring him.


    I ignored his look and checked my gear. Once everything was ready, I slipped into the sea.


    Daylight was fading, so I carried a waterproof bag with my phone and a torch.


    I swam down slowly, snapping pictures as I went. The deeper I went, the more it felt like stumbling into a hidden world, full of surprises.


    I didn¡¯t have much experience, but the beauty of the ocean gripped me, making me pause and linger.


    Ashton, though, seemed uninterested. He kept to my side like a bodyguard.


    The light dimmed gradually.


    Every now and then, our torches swept across the water. Fish darted close, circling curiously before shing away.


    I alternated between photographing the scenery and simply taking in what no camera could capture.


    Little by little, the resentment I¡¯d been carrying because of Ashton and his new girlfriend faded. Nature had its way of soothing jagged edges.


    Before long, we¡¯d reached a depth where it wasn¡¯t safe to go much further. I stopped, nning to return.


    That was when specks of blue-green light began to gather around us. My heart leapt with delight.


    I switched off my torch.


    Darkness wrapped around us, but the glow only grew brighter, shimmering in waves. Bioluminescent organisms. You only saw them in their full glory inplete darkness.


    I keptpletely still, letting theme closer and envelope me.


    It felt like swimming through a sky of stars.


    I nced at Ashton, hazy in the distance. He looked almost unearthly, like some sea god.


    Why was he even here? If he was with Lea, why wasn¡¯t he by her side? Why board the same cruise at all?


    If he¡¯d nned this with Yvaine, why bring another woman along? To unt it? But that didn¡¯t sound like him.


    I shook my head, trying to clear it. Damn it. Why couldn¡¯t I just enjoy this beauty, instead of unravelling every time he appeared?


    I swam faster, putting distance between us.


    But just as I was about to surface, something stirred the water around me.


    I froze. Something felt wrong.


    I kept swimming upwards, desperate to get back to the boat.


    Suddenly, a strong hand shot out, mped around my wrist, and yanked me down.

 Chapter 275 Mira: Tsunami

    <h4>Chapter 275: Chapter 275 Mira: Tsunami</h4>


    The sudden pull threw me off bnce. My body tipped sideways and I began to sink.


    But instead of plunging endlessly, Inded against a broad chest.


    I blinked, disoriented, and looked up at the man holding me. His face was hidden by the scuba mask.


    I red at him, irritated, and tried to wriggle free, raising my hands to signal that he should put me down.


    Instead ofplying, Ashton pressed my shoulder, stopping me before I could move further, and signed faster than I could. ¡®Something¡¯s wrong. Don¡¯t move.¡¯


    Even without sound, I felt the weight of his warning.


    I froze. He wasn¡¯t joking.


    I signed back, ¡®What is it?¡¯


    He didn¡¯t answer. Still holding me, he tilted his head upwards.


    I followed his gaze. At first I saw only water shifting above us. Then I noticed the ripples spreading wider, stronger, gathering momentum.


    Ashton¡¯s eyes lingered on the disturbance for a few seconds. Suddenly, he turned and swam deeper, clutching me tightly.


    My heart pounded.


    What on earth could make him react like this?


    I had no time to wonder. A nce over his shoulder gave me the answer.


    A wall of raging water was bearing down.


    Tsunami.


    The word burst into my mind, stark and undeniable.


    I prided myself on staying calm in difficult situations, but faced with this, so close, I couldn¡¯t control the tremor running through me.


    Ashton¡¯s grip tightened. He pushed my head to his chest, shielding me from the sight of that monstrous surge.


    Even here, away from the main force, the water around us convulsed with waves. They weren¡¯t as terrifying as what loomed above, but the impact was still brutal.


    The first strike hit us like being smacked by a giant fist. The current spun us around, a violent whirl that sent a shock through my chest. My lungs clenched, my vision red, and I had no chance to orient myself before Ashton¡¯s arm crushed me back against him, locking me in ce.


    The second wave was worse, mming us sideways. It felt like being stuffed into a washing machine, tumbled without pause, my stomach lurching with every turn. The world blurred into ck water and force.


    Ashton held on, his arms unyielding at my waist.


    Still, the strain showed. His hands trembled under the relentless current.


    The torch was long gone, ripped from us in the confusion. Darkness closed in. There was nothing but water, wave after wave, swallowing us whole.


    My gut twisted until I thought I¡¯d be sick. But I didn¡¯t dare move. I knew to survive, there was only one thing we could do: endure until the sea spent its fury.


    In the ckness, Ashton¡¯s face disappeared from view. All I had was the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my brow.


    Thump. Thump. Thump.


    It pulsed against me like a promise.


    That heartbeat became my anchor, the one thing keeping me from breaking.


    Instinctively, I pressed closer, wrapping my arms around his waist, clutching him as tightly as he held me.


    I had no idea how much time had passed.


    Finally, the waves seemed to ease a little. I lifted my head to see what was happening. Even with the oxygen tank, a nagging fear gnawed at me that I would run out of air.


    Just as I shifted, a faint tickle spread across my back. Ashton was tracing letters against me. ¡®Don¡¯t be afraid. It will be over soon.¡¯


    My arms tightened around him. Somehow, those few words steadied me.


    Maybe the force of the water had weakened, or maybe I was simply trying not to think about the devastation above us, but my attention slipped to the hands gripping my waist.


    Even though Ashton had stopped writing, the ghost of that sensation lingered, a tingling that wouldn¡¯t fade.


    I bit down on the mouthpiece, desperate to push the feeling away, desperate to escape Ashton. Yet until the tsunami passed, escape was impossible. The torment gnawed at me like an itch I couldn¡¯t scratch.


    After what felt like ten endless centuries, the currents finally eased. The dark sea sank back into its original, eerie calm.


    I waited a little longer, watching carefully to be sure the water had stilled, then gently pushed Ashton back to create some space to breathe.


    He caught my wrist and tugged me upwards.


    In the lightless depths, we had nothing but our hands to guide us.


    Suddenly, Ashton froze.


    I jerked my wrist, puzzled at his stillness, but then he shifted, turning and pulling me to the left before continuing upwards.


    Time stretched unbearably. By the time I broke the surface, it felt like an entire lifetime had passed.


    Moonlight shimmered on the water, perfectly still, as though nothing had happened at all.


    I spat out the mouthpiece and dragged in a breath so sharp it hurt, just to convince myself I was still alive.


    Beside me, Ashton¡¯s face was pale in the silver light. He didn¡¯t look relieved. If anything, he looked grimmer.


    ¡®What¡¯s wrong?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®The boat is gone.¡¯

 Chapter 276 Stranded at Sea

    <h4>Chapter 276: Chapter 276 Stranded at Sea</h4>


    I froze.


    A secondter, the meaning of his words hit me.


    Panic surged as I spun my head from side to side, scanning the endless sea.


    Nothing to the left.


    Nor to the right.


    Ahead, nothing.


    Behind, nothing.


    I should¡¯ve have known: a tiny yacht in the face of such destruction had almost no chance of surviving.


    Ashton and I were stranded at sea.


    The thought made me clutch the regtor in my hand.


    Kicking hard, I swam towards the small ind ahead.


    Ashton followed swiftly.


    I scrambled onto the sand, tearing off the oxygen tank and flippers, flinging them aside as I stumbled along the beach.


    My eyes darted frantically, searching for something.


    Ashton reached the shore a few momentster. His longer strides closed the gap between us in seconds. He caught my arm, his grip firm, his voice calm and cool.


    ¡®Calm down.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t even look at him. With a twist, I wrenched free and pressed forward, still searching.


    Ashton moved quickly, his arm snaking around my waist, pulling me tight against him before I could take another step.


    I struggled hard, but his hold was unyielding. I red down at the hands that shackled me. ¡®Let go!¡¯


    Instead of loosening, his grip only tightened.


    Feeling the pressure against my waist, my frustration red. ¡®I said let go!¡¯


    I wed at his arm with my free hand, but my strength against his was nothing more than a tickle.


    I stamped on his foot, hard.


    He didn¡¯t even flinch. ¡®I won¡¯t let go until you calm down.¡¯


    A gust of sea wind whipped past, tossing my hair and sending a shiver down my spine.


    I was suddenly very aware of the mmy weight of my wetsuit.


    Before the next wind hit, Ashton shifted, lifting me slightly and turning me to face away from the gust. His broad frame shielded mepletely.


    The wind roared past us, proof of its strength.


    After a long minute, the heat in my head began to cool. My hands loosened slightly on his wrist.


    Ashton was only trying to help me.


    His voice came again, as cold as seawater. ¡®Whatever it is you¡¯re looking for, save your strength. We¡¯ll figure out a way back tomorrow, in daylight.¡¯


    He paused, lowered his head, and spoke softly at my ear. ¡®I¡¯m with you. You¡¯re not alone.¡¯


    His breath brushed against my skin, tickling.


    After a long silence, I exhaled. ¡®All right.¡¯


    Ashton gathered a few fallen branches that the tsunami had toppled and tore off severalrge leaves. Heid them out on the sand, fashioning a makeshift ce to rest.


    To call it a shelter was generous. It was really just a patchwork of leaves big enough to lie on.


    When Ashton finished, he nced up. His brows drew slightly together as he noticed me clutching my arms.


    ¡®Take off your clothes.¡¯


    He had already tugged down his own zip. As the fabric slid open, moonlight fell across the ridges of his tanned, sculpted abdomen.


    Under different circumstances, I might even have had the presence of mind to appreciate it.


    I tugged lightly at my soaked wetsuit.


    Seeing me hesitate, Ashton frowned, his tone turning firm. ¡®Keep wearing that, and you¡¯ll catch a chill. There¡¯s no doctor here.¡¯


    This stern version of him was nothing like the quiet, restrained Ashton under the sea. This was the Ashton I had first met, themanding one, the one whose words were not suggestions but orders to be obeyed without question.


    It made me bristle, because he rarely spoke to me that way. I wanted to argue, to push back, but I realised it was pointless, a waste of energy.


    Beneath the wetsuit I wore only a bikini, and it was more revealing than I would have liked. Still, I couldn¡¯t afford to look weak in front of Ashton. Besides, it wasn¡¯t as if he hadn¡¯t seen me naked before.


    I stripped quickly, peeling off top and bottoms in a few movements, though I instinctively held the clothes across my chest.


    For a long moment, Ashton said nothing.


    I looked up, confused, and found he was no longer there. On the sandy patchy an evenrger leaf, folded neatly.


    I scanned the shadows until I spotted his tall figure bent near the edge of the dark forest, rummaging for something.


    ¡®Ashton?¡¯ I called.


    He didn¡¯t turn. ¡®Use the big leaf. Wrap yourself up, the night wind is strong.¡¯


    I hurried to the makeshift bed, picked up the leaf, and held it against myself. It fit perfectly around my body.


    I wrapped it around my chest and back, the ends meeting at my side. The hem reached just above my knees. The torn strip tied neatly at the side, fastening it securely.


    As I knotted it, my eyes kept drifting towards Ashton.


    ¡®Where did you go?¡¯ I asked when he came back.


    ¡®Collecting dry twigs.¡¯ He sat with his back to me, fiddling with the sticks. ¡®You should rest. I¡¯ll keep watch.¡¯


    On a deserted ind with no shelter, someone had to stay alert. Ashton had simply taken the task on himself.


    To my ears, it sounded as though he didn¡¯t trust me, as though I wasn¡¯t capable. Irritation pricked. I dropped down beside him. ¡®No. You can¡¯t make all the decisions. Let me do something too.¡¯


    Ashton said nothing. He kept working with the twigs.


    The silence stung. I didn¡¯t want him to see me as dead weight. The calm I had just managed to recover unravelled again.


    Anger coiled inside me, hot and restless, waiting for release. I tried to tamp it down with reason.


    I didn¡¯t even know why I was furious. Was it his indifference? Or was Ishing out to smother the guilt gnawing at me?


    Because the truth was, if not for me, he wouldn¡¯t be here at all.

 Chapter 277 Night on the Island

    <h4>Chapter 277: Chapter 277 Night on the Ind</h4>


    My palms dampened with sweat, though my body had been chilled moments before. Irritation welled up, wave after wave.


    He was silent, but his mind was clearly turning. Was he thinking the same thing? That he was stranded here because of me? Was he regretting following me?


    But I hadn¡¯t asked him toe. Why should he me me? If we were handing out me, wasn¡¯t it him who had ruined my peaceful cruise, him who had paraded a new girlfriend in front of me?


    The emotions twisted tighter and tighter until they strangled my reason.


    I snatched the bundle of branches from his hands. ¡®Why won¡¯t you say anything? Do you think I¡¯m useless? A burden? That I can¡¯t do anything? Why should you keep watch alone? I can do it too! These branches, whatever you¡¯re trying to make, I can do it! Why won¡¯t you let me? Why do you always decide for me?¡¯


    Sweat rolled down my forehead as I red at him, face burning red, eyes wild. I didn¡¯t know if I was trying to prove something or to hold on to something slipping away.


    Faced with my outburst, Ashton was unnervingly calm. He didn¡¯t answer.


    My temper red hotter at his silence. I opened my mouth, ready to unleash more, when suddenly his hand shot out, knocking the branches from my grip. In the same instant, he seized both my wrists, holding them tight.


    His face came close. He gave me no room. He pressed forward, forcing me down.


    With a thud, Inded on the bed of leaves.


    He loomed over me, leaving no space to breathe. His body brushed mine, the strength of his thigh against the softness of mine for a fleeting moment.


    My lips parted, a question forming, but no sound escaped.


    His face hovered above mine, his eyes alight as if the fire within them could burn through the night.


    ¡®It¡¯s just the two of us here. Do you really want to fight with me now?¡¯


    The fire rising in me faltered.


    The chill crept across my back, the damp leaves beneath me cold with dew, and I shivered. I refused to admit defeat, though, and bit my lower lip to keep quiet.


    Ashton¡¯s hold on my thigh loosened. He rose swiftly and let me go. His eyes skimmed coolly over my head as he stooped to pick up the branches I had dropped, then turned away and went back to arranging them.


    The moment he stood, I yanked the leaf dress higher until it covered me up to my corbone.


    My temper eased, and reason returned. Watching him work, guilt swept over me in ce of anger.


    ¡®Ashton, do you think we¡¯ll ever get out of here?¡¯


    His hands stilled for a beat. ¡®...I don¡¯t know.¡¯


    Ashton never made promises he couldn¡¯t keep.


    I understood that, yet I had only wanted reassurance.


    But Ashton was even more rational than I was. Rational enough not to grant us even the luxury of dreaming.


    I rested my head on my knees. He had told me to sleep, but after everything that had happened, I couldn¡¯t.


    If I couldn¡¯t sleep, I might as well keep talking. But not about the cruise, or the tsunami, or Lea.


    ¡®Have you ever done survival training before?¡¯ I didn¡¯t even know why I asked. Maybe it was the way he cleaned and stripped the branches with such skill, arranging them in a neat pile ready for a fire. It reminded me, not for the first time, how little I actually knew about his past.


    Ashton paused, then gave a slight nod.


    I nced into the darkness around us, the forest on one side and the sea on the other. ¡®I wonder if it¡¯s possible to make a bow and arrows here. It¡¯d be useful for hunting.¡¯


    Ashton didn¡¯t answer. He kept working, focused on the branches as though they were more fascinating than the human sitting right beside him.


    Disappointment pricked at me. My throat felt dry from talking too much.


    He still didn¡¯t respond, and irritation crept into my voice.


    ¡®Ashton, why are you like this? You weren¡¯t this cold to me before. You¡ª¡¯


    My words broke off when I met his gaze.


    ¡®You said it yourself. That was before.¡¯


    His words struck me dumb.


    Before, he and I had been husband and wife, even if only in a contract marriage. Later, we had been lovers, an engaged couple. But now... now we were nothing at all.


    I shot him a re, annoyed, and rolled over to face away from him. I refused to give him another nce.


    ***


    I was woken by a tickling at my nose.


    When I opened my eyes, a tiny snail was staring straight at me.


    I pushed myself halfway up, careful not to crush it, and gently lifted the snail onto a damp patch of sand. Soon it began to crawl off happily, full of life, and somehow its energy cheered me as well.


    I had expected sleep to evade me after such a terrifying day. Yet the moment I hadid my head on the bed of leaves, I had fallen into a deep, dreamless rest.


    I wasn¡¯t sure if it was pure exhaustion or something else.


    I turned my head and looked behind me at the man who hadn¡¯t moved an inch all night.


    I couldn¡¯t deny it. Ashton might have been harsh with his words, but his presence alone filled me with a sense of safety.


    The early morning air by the sea was far from warm. As I stood, a sudden chill wind cut across me, and I instinctively pulled my shoulders in. Then I paused.


    I hadn¡¯t felt cold at all during the night.


    My eyes drifted to Ashton. His position had perfectly shielded me from the wind.


    He sat up bare-chested.


    He looked at me, his eyes calm and distant, the deep blue like ss, emptied of even the faint emotion I¡¯d seen the night before.


    It was as if he were looking at a stranger.


    That thought irked me, but before I could speak, Ashton stretched out his hand towards me. His expression was cold. ¡®Give me your clothes.¡¯

 Chapter 278 No Signal

    <h4>Chapter 278: Chapter 278 No Signal</h4>


    I clutched the leaf dress tighter against my chest. I didn¡¯t understand.


    Ashton didn¡¯t wait for me to move but reached forward himself.


    My body stiffened. Surely he wouldn¡¯t try to strip me by force? They say desperate situations bring out the worst in people. But I refused to believe Ashton would do something like that.


    Confusion filled me. I tightened my grip on the leaf dress and raised my other hand defensively into a fist.


    His hand came closer.


    But at thest second, it bypassed me and reached behind.


    A momentter, he pulled something free.


    My wetsuit.


    I blinked, realising I must have slept on top of it without noticing.


    Ashton shook out the wetsuit to dry it. But as he did, something dropped from the pocket andnded at his feet with a soft thud.


    We both looked down at once.


    For a heartbeat, we both froze, then excitement sparked.


    A phone.


    I had forgotten I had taken it with me into the water.


    I practically leapt to snatch it up, pulling it from the waterproof pouch.


    I had charged it back on the yacht, so it should still have plenty of battery.


    My fingers flew across the screen as Ashton leaned in beside me.


    But as soon as the disy lit up, my joy copsed.


    No signal. Not a single bar.


    I remembered then that my phone had been without service ever since we entered this stretch of sea.


    Disappointment crashed through me. I jabbed Ashton¡¯s leg with my finger, ast flicker of hope clinging.


    ¡®Did you have signal yesterday?¡¯


    Maybe it was just my phone. If his worked, we could still search for his luggage, maybe even the yacht, and escape this ce.


    ¡®No,¡¯ he said simply.


    My final hope vanished.


    Even if we found his belongings, it wouldn¡¯t matter. We would still be cut off.


    I sat down heavily beside him, drained. Ashton hung the wetsuit on the simple rack he had built from the branches.


    I helped him here and there, handing him stones and leaves to fix the rack, but my mind was a total nk.


    Ashton finally looked at me. ¡®Should we look for shelter first, or luggage, or food and fresh water.¡¯


    I muttered, ¡®You should decide.¡¯


    Thest decision I¡¯d made was whatnded us here.


    Ashton decided we should look for the luggage.


    To be precise, he wanted to look for our yacht first. With luck, it might have been hurled ashore rather than destroyed.


    We walked along the beach. After the long chill of the early morning hours, the sun was finally rising. Its warmth drove the cold from our bodies.


    I trailed behind Ashton, eyes lowered to my feet. A thin film of wet sand clung to them. With each step, more sand got stuck.


    Stuck, just like us.


    My forehead smacked into something solid.


    A sharp sting spread across my skin, and I sucked in a breath through my teeth.


    ¡®Sorry. I wasn¡¯t watching where I was going.¡¯


    Ashton studied me for a long moment. ¡®What¡¯s wrong with you?¡¯


    My eyes never lifted. I could not meet his gaze.


    Myshes trembled. My head dipped lower. ¡®Nothing.¡¯


    My voice was quiet and slow.


    Ashton folded his arms, watching me closely. His tone carried a chill. ¡®Tell me.¡¯


    ¡®There really isn¡¯t anything wrong. We¡¯re supposed to be finding the luggage, aren¡¯t we? Don¡¯t waste time on me.¡¯ My voice sounded weaker than I intended.


    I hurried past him, pulling myself together as best I could. My fists clenched tight, and I did not dare look back. I was afraid my eyes would betray my guilt, more afraid of seeing nothing in his eyes but coldness and distance.


    ***


    After almost an hour of fruitless search, we stopped and tried to estimate where the tsunami might have flung the yacht.


    ¡®The waves rise straight up and crash down. There¡¯s no rotation,¡¯ I said. ¡®If the yacht was thrown ashore, it should still be somewhere along the same line of longitude.¡¯


    ¡®If we could work out our current location, it would be much easier to find,¡¯ Ashton said.


    ¡®But we don¡¯t have any tools.¡¯


    I crouched down, wondering if I should stick a pole in the ground to get a rough reading oftitude and longitude. It would hardly be precise, but better than nothing.


    Ashton¡¯s voice cut in. ¡®Come with me.¡¯


    I looked up, puzzled. ¡®You know where it is?¡¯


    He said nothing, but strode off with clear intent.


    I hurried to catch up, tapping the stick I had picked up against my palm. ¡®How do you know which way to go?¡¯


    Ashton pointed to a pale-bellied fish lying in the sand. ¡®Know what that is?¡¯


    I gave it a brief nce. The Mediterranean had too many fish for me to recognise, so I simply shook my head.


    ¡®It¡¯s a goldfish.¡¯


    I blinked. ¡®What?¡¯


    ¡®Amon goldfish,¡¯ he said. ¡®It was on our boat.¡¯


    I froze, my lips parting without a sound. Shock and delight tangled on my tongue, impossible to put into words.


    I had not even known there were goldfish on board. After all, the boat was rented.


    ¡®How do you know there was a goldfish on the yacht?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®I saw it in a little stic tank. Whoever used the boatst must have brought it with them.¡¯


    ¡®What for?¡¯


    He shrugged.


    I cursed myself for asking something so irrelevant. It did not matter who brought it. What mattered was that goldfish were not native to the Mediterranean. Which meant the one lying here had to havee from our yacht.


    If the fish had washed up here, the boat could not be far.


    Ashton picked up the fish, wrapped it carefully in a leaf, and carried it with him.


    Stranded on a deserted ind, with no food in sight, even one dead goldfish felt like a strange sort of blessing.


    But our good fortune did notst long.

 Chapter 279 Going into the Forest

    <h4>Chapter 279: Chapter 279 Going into the Forest</h4>


    We trekked a good distance without finding anything else from the yacht.


    My legs began to ache, and I rubbed them absently. Ahead stretched only more endless beach.


    Frustration rose inside me. This ind was far too big for just the two of us to finish searching, yet it was too small to be spotted easily by the rescue teams, if there were any.


    I kept the thought to myself. The more I dwelt on it, the more I wished I could travel back in time and p myself for rushing into a diving trip, and for dragging Ashton into this mess with me.


    Then I noticed that Ashton had veered off the beach.


    He was heading straight into the forest.


    I stopped.


    Daylight made it safer, but I still felt uneasy. The thick trees pressed close, heavy with shade. I had always feared that kind of suffocating ce.


    ¡®Are we really going in there?¡¯ I called.


    Ashton nced back. He paused mid-step, then turned fully to face me.


    He reached out and caught my hand.


    The heat of his palm startled me.


    Then he spoke in a voice gentler than I had ever heard. ¡®Don¡¯t be afraid. I¡¯ll be with you. Every step along the way.¡¯


    I stared at our inteced fingers, dazed.


    How had Ashton and I suddenly be so close?


    I blinked, still stunned, and missed the moment to pull away. By the time I came to my senses, Ashton had already been leading me for a while.


    The warmth in my palm felt almost scalding. Yet when I nced at him, I saw no flicker in his calm gaze.


    Was I overthinking? When he said he¡¯d be with me, it didn¡¯t imply what I thought it did. Perhaps he was simply being kind, helping me.


    Ashton turned his head and nced at me. I felt the faintest tightening of his fingers between mine.


    Further in, I realised the forest was not as terrifying as I had imagined.


    Maybe it was because many of the trees along our path had been blown down by the tsunami. What should have been a dense, suffocating forest now seemed strangely open.


    Without the oppressive weight of thick woond, I wanted to pull away from Ashton¡¯s hand, which shifted and rubbed against mine with every step.


    Skin against skin made it too easy for the body to release dopamine, the very chemical that unsettles judgment and blurs reason.


    But...


    I blinked and touched the leaf still tangled in my hair. In the end, I did not let go.


    We walked on until we reached a stream.


    The water was clear and fast-flowing, yet it was no shallow brook I could step across in one stride. The stream was easily three or four metres wide, and by rough estimate, deep enough to reach my chest.


    I frowned and looked at Ashton. ¡®Swim across?¡¯


    Ashton shook his head. ¡®No. We can¡¯t risk hypothermia. If we go in now, our clothes will be soaked. The ind¡¯s temperature drops sharply at night, and losing heat is dangerous. With only this one fish for food, we won¡¯t have enough calories to keep ourselves warm. It isn¡¯t worth the risk.¡¯


    Almost without thinking, I tightened my grip on his hand, clinging to the reassurance. ¡®Then how do we cross?¡¯


    Ashton looked around, his gaze pausing a short distance to the right. Then he released my hand and walked towards it.


    I hurried after him. Being alone in a dense forest did not feel wise.


    He vaulted cleanly over a fallen tree ahead. His movement was fluid and precise, the kind that only came with training. Watching him, I felt a pang of envy as I mbered clumsily around the trunk instead.


    When I finally caught up, I found him standing with his arms folded, waiting by the tree.


    His brows drew together as he saw me. ¡®Why didn¡¯t you follow directly behind me?¡¯


    I muttered inwardly: Not everyone has legs like yours, capable of vaulting over half the forest.


    He started to speak, then stopped. ¡®That was careless of me. From now on, I¡¯ll...¡¯


    ¡®Hm?¡¯ I looked up when he didn¡¯t finish his sentence.


    Ashton held my gaze for a long moment, then changed the subject. ¡®Nothing. I¡¯ve found a way across.¡¯


    ¡®How?¡¯


    He lifted his chin towards the stream. ¡®There are boulders in the water. If they¡¯re rooted firmly in the riverbed, we can use them as stepping stones.¡¯


    I followed his gaze. Indeed, a cluster ofrge rocks stood unmoving against the rushing current.


    A flicker of relief spread through me, a fragile happiness seeping into my chest. ¡®Then let¡¯s go.¡¯


    We made our way there.


    Ashton asked me to wait while he leapt across first, testing each rock¡¯s stability. Only when he had reached the far bank did he turn back and signal an ¡®OK¡¯.


    It meant the path was safe.


    Yet I did not move.


    Standing on the near side, I looked from Ashton to my own feet as the waterpped against them. My head dipped as I clutched the edge of my makeshift leaf dress.


    I had realised the problem earlier, when I tried to climb over that fallen tree.


    This so-called dress, woven from leaves, was good for covering me, but useless for movement. A singlerge step sent the hem riding dangerously high. It was only the bikini underneath that kept me decent. Even so, one sharp pull and the fragile weave would likely tear.


    As I hesitated, a shadow fell over me.


    Ashton had crossed back.


    The next instant, the ground vanished from under me. The world spun, and when it settled, I found myself cradled in his arms.


    I stared up at the hard line of his jaw. ¡®What are you doing?¡¯


    I struggled, trying to slip free. His palm pressed firmly against my thigh, and my body betrayed me with a shiver.


    The more I tried to escape, the tighter his hold became.


    His gaze dropped to me, his jaw taut, his voice clipped. ¡®Don¡¯t move.¡¯


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 Chapter 280 Wreckage

    <h4>Chapter 280: Chapter 280 Wreckage</h4>


    The sharp tone made me freeze.


    ¡®Hold onto my neck. Unless you want to fall.¡¯


    I hesitated, then frowned up at him. ¡®Do you think I can¡¯t cross on my own?¡¯


    But Ashton only shook his head and looked straight at me. His voice was steady, almost solemn. ¡®I don¡¯t want to make the same mistake twice.¡¯


    Even with me in his arms, he crossed the stream without effort. In less than a minute, we were on the far bank.


    He set me down gently. My feet touched the cool ground, and the heat of my frustration ebbed.


    Then Ashton took my hand again. We walked in silence. The only sounds were the rustle of leaves in the wind, the asional chirp of birds, and the crunch of our steps on the forest floor.


    Suddenly, we both stopped.


    I saw the yacht.


    To be precise, the wreck of the yacht.


    Before usy broken pieces, twisted and scattered, half buried under a tangle of branches.


    For the first time since reaching the shore, excitement surged through me. I was so overwhelmed I froze, not daring to blink in case the sight before me dissolved into a mirage.


    Ashton walked towards the wreckage.


    I snapped out of it and hurried after him, almost running in my eagerness, overtaking him in my haste.


    The yacht was iplete, but a good portion of it remained. That meant there was a high chance of finding the luggage.


    My eyes lit up. ¡®How did you know the yacht was this way?¡¯


    Ashton was already shifting aside a thick nk of wood. ¡®When you came into the forest, you didn¡¯t notice how many of the trees here were snappedpared to elsewhere?¡¯


    I shook my head. My spirits had been too low earlier to notice anything, and even if I had, I doubt I would have spotted what he did.


    ¡®If it had only been the tsunami, the trees would have snapped once near the base, or been uprooted entirely and carried off. But these ones are broken in three or four ces. That means they were struck by something heavy in addition to the waves. Apart from our yacht, there was nothing nearbyrge enough to cause that kind of damage.¡¯


    I stared at him.


    ¡®What?¡¯ he asked.


    ¡®Were you some kind of scout before?¡¯


    Ashton shook his head. ¡®No. I just learnt a little, once.¡¯


    I had a hundred more questions: why did he learn such things, and when?


    Then I thought of his parents, who had shipped him abroad when he was a boy, not out of care but to wash their hands of him.


    Maybe his life had been harder than I realised.


    Lea¡¯s words at the ball came back to me. She had said she and Ashton had known each other a long time, that they were the same kind of people.


    Did he learn these skills with her? Had they survived something like this together before?


    I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply, and forced the thoughts away. Right now, survival mattered more than digging into the past.


    Something glinted on the ground. I dropped to one knee, brushing soil aside with one hand and probing with the other.


    Ashton came over to see. Beneath the dirt, a white surface emerged, smooth and rectangr. A cabin door. My fingers were already on the handle.


    I looked up at him, eyes bright with hope. ¡®You still have the key, right?¡¯


    Yesterday, before we dived, I¡¯d locked the cabin door. Ashton had been carrying the key.


    I could have smacked myself for that bit of brilliance.


    What had I been thinking, locking the cabin door on a deserted stretch of sea where you hardly even saw an animal, let alone a stranger?


    The cabin itself was oddly positioned, half its bulk sunk deep into the soil so it could not be shifted. The only way in was through this door.


    Through the ss in the frame, I had glimpsed two familiar wheels. My suitcase. My very own little suitcase. All I had to do was get this door open.


    ¡®No,¡¯ Ashton said quietly, and for once, there was regret in his voice. ¡®I lost it underwaterst night.¡¯


    He admitted it like a soldier taking punishment, stiff-backed and without excuses.


    Anyone else would have been furious with him. That key could mean the difference between survivingfortably and barely scraping by. But I was still rational enough to think clearly.


    If Ashton had lost the key, it was surely when he was fighting to keep me alive under the waves. He would never say so, but I knew it.


    ¡®Never mind,¡¯ I said. ¡®Let¡¯s just work out how to open this door.¡¯ I eyed the lock. ¡®How do we break in?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll take care of it,¡¯ Ashton said.


    He left me waiting while he went off. When he finally came back, he was holding a massive rock.


    I craned my neck and squinted to be sure. Yes, a boulder-sized stone.


    I stepped back to clear him a space to strike.


    He positioned the rock with precision, not just swinging wildly but aiming with care. Clearly, he had been trained. The ss shattered quickly.


    My heart leapt. Even Ashton¡¯s lips curved in the faintest smile.


    I rushed forward, but he stopped me with a hand around my waist. ¡®Wait.¡¯


    He reached through the broken ss. The edges were still razor sharp, and a careless move could have left a scar. But he was quick, and with a twist, the lock gave way.


    He ducked inside first, and a momentter, came out carrying a suitcase.


    Relief washed over me. I rushed to check mine.


    The most important thing was...


    Damn it. The sat phone was broken.


    Just as useless as my other phone.


    ¡®At least we¡¯ve got a change of clothes now,¡¯ I said, trying to sound optimistic.


    But now that we had the luggage, the question was what to do next.


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 Chapter 281 Survival

    <h4>Chapter 281: Chapter 281 Survival</h4>


    I had zero experience in survival. Sitting on my suitcase, I felt lost. I looked over at Ashton, who was still sorting through his own small case. ¡®What do we do first?¡¯


    ¡®We get out of this forest.¡¯


    The suitcase wheels had long since snapped, so Ashton hoisted one on each shoulder and started walking.


    I hurried after him, trying to lend a hand. But he didn¡¯t need my help.


    ¡®Walk beside me.¡¯


    ¡®Hm?¡¯ I didn¡¯t understand, but obediently moved next to him. ¡®Why?¡¯


    ¡®Take my arm.¡¯


    My eyes slid down to his arm. Because of the weight on his shoulder, the muscles stood out sharply. A mixture of strength and raw power.


    I swallowed before I could stop myself. ¡®Why?¡¯


    ¡®There¡¯re fallen branches and rocks everywhere. I don¡¯t want you to trip and fall.¡¯


    ¡®I can manage.¡¯


    ¡®There could be animals here.¡¯


    ¡®Really? Like what?¡¯


    ¡®Like wolves.¡¯


    I shivered and nced around nervously, half expecting a wolf to appear. But were there even wolves on Mediterranean inds?


    ¡®You... you¡¯re not lying to me, are you?¡¯


    ¡®No,¡¯ he said with a perfectly straight face. ¡®If we run into them, the suitcases will be our only weapon. And you need to be ready to run the moment I throw the suitcases at them.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t really believe him. Still, my hand slid onto his muscled arm.


    I stayed alert, worried about wolves.


    Ashton¡¯s words kept reying in my head.


    It stunned me that I could feel happy just because Ashton said he would value me more than the suitcase, even though the suitcase was filled with survival essentials.


    It meant Ashton valued my life more than survival itself.


    But how could that be? When I asked to break up, he had been so calm, so decisive.


    Yet I couldn¡¯t stop thinking about it.


    When we stepped out of the forest, I tugged my suitcase from his hands. The leaf dress had done its job, but now that I had my own clothes, there was no reason not to change.


    I picked out a fitted ck long-sleeved shirt and tight ck jeans. Hot, yes, but durable and practical. I wanted something that would let me climb and run, protect against insects, and blend in.


    Even without wilderness survival skills, I knew at least that much.


    But just as I held them up, I felt a scorching stare.


    I turned, meeting Ashton¡¯s eyes.


    ¡®What¡¯s wrong with them?¡¯ I asked, pointing at the shirt and jeans. ¡®Something I don¡¯t know about?¡¯


    He frowned. ¡®ck absorbs heat. You¡¯ll lose water too quickly. Since we haven¡¯t confirmed a safe water source yet, better not.¡¯


    I gave up and let him choose.


    He handed me an oversized white T-shirt and a pair of baggy tracksuit bottoms.


    Taking his approved clothes, I slipped behind a tree to change.


    When I came back, Ashton was digging holes in the sand with a stick.


    I shoved my discarded clothes into aundry bag and ran over. ¡®Anything I can do to help?¡¯


    ¡®Pick up a couple of stones. About the size of both your hands put together. Just two to start with.¡¯


    I nodded, my mood brightening. It wasn¡¯t much, but at least I could contribute.


    Ashton added quickly, ¡®Don¡¯t go into the forest. Stay close to the beach. Not too far.¡¯


    I turned back, frowning. ¡®Not too far means how far exactly?¡¯


    He jabbed the stick into the sand, nced up at me, and said clearly, ¡®Stay where I can see you.¡¯


    I went ahead to search the beach. Soon enough, I found two stones and carried them back.


    As I turned, I nearly dropped them when I met Ashton¡¯s unblinking gaze. He really had been watching me the entire time.


    My heart skipped.


    Back at his side, I held the stones out. ¡®Here. But what do you need them for?¡¯


    ¡®For camp.¡¯ His reply was as blunt as ever.


    ¡®How do a few stones make a camp?¡¯


    In my head, a camp meant tents, not rocks.


    He didn¡¯t reply.


    Ashton worked swiftly, taking a few stones from the pile he had carried back. He dropped them into one of the pits, then stacked the rest into a small mound, leaving a narrow gap at the centre just wide enough for a thick branch.


    He repeated the process twice more until all three pits were filled with stone mounds.


    Next, he took three sturdy branches he had collected earlier, each difficult to snap, and nted them upright in the middle of the stone piles.


    I had been watching with real interest, until the next step went wrong.


    He was supposed to pull the branches together at the centre to form a cone, then bind them with long, tough leaves that would serve as rope. But every strip he tried snapped after only a turn or two.


    Without something strong enough to tie them, he couldn¡¯t go on.


    Holding the branches steady with one hand, Ashton frowned in thought. Suddenly his gaze shifted to the clothes lying nearby.


    He only had two shirts in his suitcase.


    If he tore one up for rope, he would be left with a single shirt to wear and nothing to change into.


    Yet he didn¡¯t even hesitate. He crouched, reached for a grey T-shirt, and was about to rip it when I stopped him.


    ¡®Wait.¡¯


    His fingers stilled.


    I ran to my suitcase, rummaged inside, and came back carrying a box.


    Jogging up to him, I thrust it out. ¡®Tear this one. I hardly ever wear it anyway.¡¯


    His brows lifted slightly, but he epted the box, opened it, and pulled out the shirt inside.


    The rope made from expensive fabric held firm.


    While Ashton finished setting up camp, I was sent to the beach to arrange a rescue signal.


    This time, it was my lipstick that paid the price.


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 Chapter 282 Signal

    <h4>Chapter 282: Chapter 282 Signal</h4>


    The signal needed bright colour, so Ashton told me to coat the exposed sides of the stones in red.


    Make-up was useless on the ind, so I wasn¡¯t upset by the request. In fact, I was almost excited, d to be useful again. My mood was ridiculously cheerful.


    When the lipstick was ground down to an unrecognisable stub and the final ¡®S¡¯ was in ce, I stepped back and admired the result.


    [SOS]


    As I stood there, arms folded, sea breeze in my face, a thought struck me. I broke into a run, back to my suitcase, and began rummaging again.


    Ashton, busy tying bark over the cone-shaped frame, nced my way. ¡®What are you looking for?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯ll see,¡¯ I said, still digging.


    Secondster, my triumphant voice rang out. ¡®Found it.¡¯


    He looked over to see a camera in my hands.


    I carried it to the lipstick SOS and began snapping photos.


    Ashton, meanwhile, kept working with his usual cool detachment.


    I narrowed my eyes, then shouted suddenly, ¡®Ashton!¡¯


    He jerked his head up at once.


    Click.


    The shutter snapped, catching him full on.


    Eagerly, I flicked through the camera¡¯s screen to check. A candid shot like that had to be priceless.


    The man in the photo stood bare-chested, his lean, sculpted muscles catching the light, shorts hanging low on his hips, a strip of bark in his hands. His cropped hair framed a sharp, clean face.


    Even caught off guard, every angle of his features was wless, the unposed moment making him look even more natural, more alive.


    The photo alone could outshine half the idols stered across billboards.


    But it was his eyes that undid me.


    Those long, deep blue eyes held a warmth I couldn¡¯t ignore. A warmth he had failed to hide.


    I stared at the screen, expressionless, my grip on the camera tightening.


    Footsteps approached, and his voice came with them.


    ¡®What is it? Did you make me look like a horror viin?¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s nothing.¡¯ I shoved the camera into my suitcase. ¡®I¡¯ll help you. It¡¯ll be faster with two.¡¯


    ***


    We spent two days on the ind, living on fish from the stream and olives from the trees.


    By now, the cruise would be almost over. Ashton and I were still marooned here. Was anyone even looking for us?


    Iy inside the tree-bark shelter, staring up at the dark roof overhead.


    Outside, Ashton was dismantling my camera lens to start a fire.


    He sat on a t stone,ying dry grass and twigs across the sand with one hand while angling the lens in the sunlight with the other. His movements were practised, almost instinctive.


    I stepped out of the shelter and sat down on a stone beside him. With a twig, I prodded the tiny sparks flickering in the grass.


    Silence reigned, broken only by the crackle of burning twigs.


    I poked the embers a little faster, just to look busy.


    Ashton kept tugging at the diving glove on his right hand.


    Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed it. I thought back and realised he had worn it every day since wended.


    ¡®You¡¯ve had that glove on for a long time, haven¡¯t you?¡¯ I said.


    Hisshes gave the faintest flicker, though only for an instant.


    ¡®It¡¯s easier to work with,¡¯ he replied evenly.


    I nodded. With so many poisonous nts and insects around, it was sensible.


    I must have dozed off for a while.


    These past few days, I hadn¡¯t slept soundly. To avoid danger, we had been taking turns keeping watch.


    At first, Ashton insisted on looking after me. He let me sleep at night and caught what rest he could in snatches during the day.


    But I refused.


    I couldn¡¯t keep letting Ashton shoulder everything while I took advantage.


    We argued about it. In the end, we reached an agreement. When it came to sleep, each of us took half the night.


    That meant our afternoons were spent foraging together.


    I was fortunate Ashton was a survival expert, or I might have starved before anyone ever found us.


    I had no idea what was edible.


    Once, I reached for a bright, pretty fruit, only for Ashton to smack my hand away.


    He told me it was a well-known poison in the wild, so toxic you could pick it up on your skin just by touching it.


    That lesson stayed with me. From then on, I obediently followed behind him.


    When I woke, Ashton had already packed his bag, ready for another round of foraging.


    I stretched, looked out at the endless sea, and then at the man next to me, solid and reliable.


    He reminded me of an ancient tree. Just a nce at him wrapped me in a deep sense of safety.


    A rare calm stirred in me, a peace I hadn¡¯t felt for a long time.


    I wanted to hold on to it, to linger in it.


    A reckless thought rose up inside me.


    Maybe staying on this ind for a while would not be so bad.


    So long as Ashton was with me.


    That day, we pushed further ind than before. The trees thickened and shadows deepened around us.


    I slowed my pace until I ended up behind him.


    It wasn¡¯t that I was afraid; Ashton wouldn¡¯t let me take the lead.


    I studied the man who held his arm out, keeping me sheltered behind him.


    He still wore the light grey T-shirt from earlier, with sturdy trousers and the pair of leather shoes salvaged from his suitcase.


    The outfit was in, unremarkable.


    Yet the way he stood in front of me, guarding me with such quiet care, struck me as irresistibly manly.


    My heartbeat skipped several times. I blinked hard and almost stepped back. I knew all too well how strongly this man drew me in.


    But sense told me I must not get too close.


    ¡®Stop staring at me and watch your surroundings.¡¯


    His voice was t, as always, but heat rushed to my cheeks.


    How did he always know? It was as if he had eyes in the back of his head.


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 Chapter 283 High Fever

    <h4>Chapter 283: Chapter 283 High Fever</h4>


    That night, the breeze grew cooler. I pulled my long-sleeved shirt tighter around me and leaned towards the shelter of the hut.


    I didn¡¯t dare move too much, though, because Ashton was lying just behind me, asleep.


    We were taking turns to sleep half the night each. I tried to stay alert, but my eyelids grew heavy.


    Suddenly, a chill brushed my arm. Startled, I opened my eyes. A few droplets had fallen onto the sleeve of my shirt.


    Before I could react, more rain came spattering down on me.


    The weather changed in an instant.


    I sprang up and ducked into the hut. Even so, I couldn¡¯t avoid the downpourpletely. My chest, back and legs were soon speckled with drops, and though I wasn¡¯t as bedraggled as a drowned rat, I looked at least half like one. The damp clothes clung to me ufortably.


    I nced at Ashton.


    He must have been exhausted from the day, because he slept on soundly without stirring.


    A shiver ran through me and an itch prickled at my nose.


    This was bad. At this rate, I was bound to fall ill. On a deserted ind, catching a cold was almost the same as inviting death. Even with Ashton around, I¡¯d be nothing but a burden for days.


    I frowned. I didn¡¯t want to be a burden.


    My eyes drifted towards the clean, dry clothes in the suitcase. Then they shifted to Ashton¡¯s sleeping figure.


    If I wanted to change, I¡¯d have to do it inside the hut. Going back out meant another drenching, which would make changing pointless. But in here, I¡¯d have to do it right in front of Ashton, asleep or not.


    A faint dizziness pressed against my temples. I bit my lower lip sharply to steady myself.


    No. I couldn¡¯t risk getting sick.


    After all, Ashton was fast asleep. He wouldn¡¯t see, and he wouldn¡¯t know.


    If I moved quietly enough...


    Bolstered by that thought, I stole another quick nce at Ashton, confirming that he was still lost in deep sleep. Only then did I ease sideways, take out a clean set of clothes from the suitcase, and start peeling off the ones I wore.


    That day I had been wearing a long white shirt-dress. It was linen, which meant it turned see-through the moment it was wet.


    I half-pinned my hair up so fewer drops would run down and soak me further.


    One by one, I undid the buttons of the shirt. Soon, only the one near my lower stomach was still holding. It was stubborn, and I tugged and twisted at it, frowning, while the rest of the shirt gaped open and slid halfway down my arms.


    There was a sharp snap as the button gave way and flew off somewhere. I groaned inwardly. I¡¯d never been suited to buttoned clothes, always popping them off by ident.


    I nced around, but couldn¡¯t see where it had fallen. With the rain still beating down outside and Ashton asleep beside me, there was no way to look properly. I decided to leave it for tomorrow.


    I pulled on the dry clothes quickly, then sat back on the straw-strewn ground and leaned towards the opening. The rain showed no sign of letting up.


    Even in fresh dry clothes, the damp night air crept relentlessly into my bones. I hugged my arms to myself and rubbed them for warmth.


    As I drew my legs back, I identally kicked Ashton.


    He didn¡¯t stir.


    My thoughts drifted as I studied his face.


    It was flushed. His chest rose and fell in an unsteady rhythm.


    Sleeping in this stifling hut, he must have felt hot.


    Wait. Hot?


    At that moment, another gust of cold wind blew through, and my teeth chattered before I could stop them.


    I gritted my teeth, shuffled a little closer to him, then leaned in until our faces were only a finger¡¯s width apart. Bending down, I whispered by his ear, ¡®Ashton?¡¯


    Nothing.


    I tried again a few more times, but he didn¡¯t stir.


    Outside, the rain had gone from heavy to torrential, drumming against the bark walls of the hut and pelting my back.


    My whole back was soaked through.


    But I had no time to change. My eyes stayed fixed on Ashton.


    Something was wrong.


    He was never such a deep sleeper, not even with the storm hammering down.


    I reached out and touched him, only to recoil at how scalding hot his skin was.


    Panic gripped me.


    Ashton had a fever.


    I dragged him with difficulty to a haystack further from the door and pulled off his wet shoes.


    Then I wrestled his rain-soaked T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Digging through the suitcase, I found myrgest T-shirt and slipped it on him.


    The rain grew fiercer, and the grass curtain at the doorway was no defence at all. I sat with my back to the entrance, shielding him as best I could from theshing wind and water.


    His trousers were drenched too. I unzipped them and tugged them off, rolling them into a heap. He could never fit into mine, so I pulled one of my long skirts over him instead. What he would think when he woke to find himself in it, I didn¡¯t have time to imagine.


    Just then, a low groan escaped him. His eyes stayed shut, but sweat broke out across his brow, his expression twisted with pain.


    I searched his body for injuries I might have missed.


    And then I saw it.


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 Chapter 284 Helicopter

    <h4>Chapter 284: Chapter 284 Helicopter</h4>


    His right hand was trembling violently. It was still covered by a diving glove.


    I remembered asking him once why he always kept it on. He had said it made work easier. It seemed reasonable enough, so I hadn¡¯t questioned it.


    But now...


    My breath caught as I reached for his gloved hand. He was unconscious, unable to resist, and I peeled the glove away with ease. When it came free, I pped a hand over my mouth to stop a cry escaping.


    His right hand.


    The palm was split by a raw, unhealed gash. The whole hand was swollen, red, eaten away by infection. It was barely recognisable as a hand at all. The wound had been there for days, festering until it rotted like this.


    My chest ached with worry, but another question gnawed at me. When had he hurt himself? What could have done this?


    I forced myself to think back. And then it struck me. That afternoon when we dived in the deep sea. After the tsunami, when we lost our torches, Ashton had used his bare hand to feel our way. That must have been it, torn open on coral.


    So the mystery was solved, but the realisation brought a flood of guilt. Days had passed before I noticed, and all the while he had kept it hidden.


    I understood why. We had no emergency supplies. Later, when we found the suitcase, there had only been a few sters, no medicine at all. Rather than burden me, he had chosen silence, enduring the itching and the pain alone.


    I knew what coral wounds could do if untreated. The agony would re day and night, unbearable at times, with the risk of infection spreading through the body. It was sheer luck I had discovered it now, before it worsened.


    I looked at his face, flushed with fever yet pale from the toll of infection. The thought of him bearing that hand, then still pitching camp, starting fires, gathering food, fetching water, using that same right hand, made something inside me twist.


    My chest tightened with emotions I couldn¡¯t name. I poked his cheek gently and whispered, ¡®You really are an idiot.¡¯


    Carefully, I rinsed his ruined hand with clean water, disinfected it, then bound it with the few sters I had.


    When it was done, I sat hugging my knees, watching him lying there beneath a patchwork of my clothes.


    This couldn¡¯t go on. Even dry clothes weren¡¯t enough. His fever, his wound, none of it could wait. When would rescuee?


    I red out at the downpour, nerves raw. The forest was silent but for the pounding rain on leaves and branches. Not a bird¡¯s cry, not a breath of wind.


    Then I heard it. A strange sound cutting through the storm. A deep, mechanical roar, steady and thudding.


    Propellers?


    I shot to my feet and ran outside.


    Rainshed my face as I burst from the hut. Through the sheets of water I saw a helicopter circling above, its des chopping the air, the searchlight sweeping over the treetops.


    It hovered, dipping lower as if tond, then pulled back again, struggling against the storm. My stomach lurched at the thought it might give up and vanish into the night.


    I flung my arms in the air and shouted until my throat burned. My voice was nothing against the roar. The rain blurred everything, and in the dark I stumbled, crashing to the ground. Pain ripped up my leg as a jagged rock split my shin. Blood welled hot and fast, but I hardly noticed. I forced myself up and kept running, slipping, skidding, pushing forward.


    Branches whipped at me as I fought through the trees, yelling like a madwoman. The helicopter¡¯s light swept close, then swung away, missing me. They couldn¡¯t see me, not hidden in the forest.


    I had to reach the beach.


    I ran as hard as my legs would carry me, barefoot now, my shoes lost somewhere behind. The ground was a confused jumble of mud and roots and stone. I fell again and again, palms torn open, knees scraped raw. I didn¡¯t stop.


    The helicopter was still there. That was all that mattered.


    Atst the trees broke and I stumbled onto the beach. The searchlight red across the sand. I grabbed the nearest fallen bough, hoisted it high and waved it like a g. My arms shook with the effort, rain blinding me, but I wouldn¡¯t stop.


    The light swept across me, straight into my face, so bright I had to screw my eyes shut. I kept waving. My whole body was shaking, my teeth chattering, but I clung to that branch and swung it until my shoulders screamed.


    The roar grew louder. The air churned and whipped around me, almost knocking me from my feet.


    I staggered, the gale from the rotor des pressing down, but I knew then. They wereing closer. Not leaving.


    The helicopter was touching down.

 Chapter 285 Rescued, Restless

    <h4>Chapter 285: Chapter 285 Rescued, Restless</h4>


    ¡®How¡¯s he?¡¯


    Yvaine rolled her eyes at me while she pared an apple with a knife. ¡®Shouldn¡¯t you be more worried about yourself? Doc said your fever nearly fried your brain.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m fine now,¡¯ I said, though my voice was still hoarse.


    It had been three days since the rescue.


    The helicopter thatnded on the ind hadn¡¯t been a rescue helicopter at all. It was a team of location scouts from a TV production crew, searching for a spot to film a survival reality show.


    The sudden storm had blown them off their course and straight onto the ind.


    But as the saying goes, misfortune can be a blessing in disguise. Thanks to that storm, they had stumbled on an ideal location that wasn¡¯t even on their list.


    With their help, Ashton and I were flown out and sent straight to the nearest hospital.


    I drifted in and out of consciousness on the journey, too feverish to keep track of anything. The next thing I remembered was Yvaine sitting at my bedside, her eyes red from crying.


    There was an IV needle taped to the back of my hand, and every muscle ached from the fever.


    But what about Ashton? His fever had been worse than mine, and his right hand was a wreck. Was he all right? Had he woken up? Was anyone looking after him?


    ¡®He¡¯s fine,¡¯ Yvaine said when I wouldn¡¯t stop asking. ¡®He... left.¡¯


    ¡®When?¡¯ I tried to sit up, but Yvaine pushed me back down.


    ¡®He woke up the day before, still running a fever. He came here, saw you, then discharged himself. He¡¯s probably back in Skyline now.¡¯


    ¡®How was he?¡¯


    Yvaine shrugged. ¡®Looked the same. Same formidable, scary CEO energy. We didn¡¯t talk much.¡¯


    ¡®His hand?¡¯


    ¡®Bandaged, that¡¯s all I know.¡¯


    ¡®He shouldn¡¯t have rushed out,¡¯ I muttered. ¡®He needs rest.¡¯


    ¡®What¡¯s with you?¡¯ Yvaine asked. ¡®Suddenly you care so much about him? Had a change of heart?¡¯


    I looked away. I didn¡¯t answer because, deep down, I didn¡¯t know myself.


    The days on that ind had changed something between Ashton and me, though I couldn¡¯t say exactly what.


    Besides, there was still that woman.


    ¡®Was Lea with him?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®Who?¡¯


    ¡®Lea. Blonde, stunning. She was with him on the cruise ship.¡¯


    ¡®Was she?¡¯ Yvaine frowned. ¡®He didn¡¯t say anything about her when he gave me that ticket.¡¯


    ¡®Ha!¡¯ I jabbed a finger at her. ¡®So you really did collude with him to trick me onto that cruise.¡¯


    Yvaine shrugged,pletely unrepentant. ¡®Yeah, I did. So what? You were an idiot for breaking up with him, and I¡¯d be a lousy friend if I let you throw away a good man like that. He asked, I agreed. But he never mentioned another woman.¡¯


    She cut the apple into neat slices and handed me the te.


    ¡®Thanks.¡¯ I picked up a slice and chewed, though it was tasteless. The bitter medicine had killed off my sense of vour.


    ¡®He was alone when he came to see you,¡¯ Yvaine added. ¡®No woman with him.¡¯


    I chewed slowly, lost in thought.


    ¡®Want me to find out?¡¯ she asked.


    I should have said no. Whoever Ashton was with was none of my business. I was the one who broke things off, convinced that a man like him, too good to be true, couldn¡¯t possibly want forever with me.


    Yet I nodded.


    Maybe out of guilt for pushing me into that cruise, Yvaine threw herself into it. She made calls, pulled favours, and within a day, she came back with answers.


    Meanwhile, I was rotting in the hospital, the doctor refusing to discharge me until my temperature dropped to a normal, human level.


    Yvaine burst in. ¡®You won¡¯t believe what I found.¡¯


    ¡®Spill.¡¯


    She did, and she was right. It was hard to believe.


    Not the part about Lea and Ashton knowing each other for years. I already knew that.


    Not the part about Lea being in love with him. That had been obvious.


    What shocked me was that Lea had been the one behind the sabotage at the Aureate Awards. Back then, I hadn¡¯t even known she existed. But while married to Pierre, she had already been plotting to push me out of Ashton¡¯s life.


    ¡®I might almost admire her if she wasn¡¯t trying to steal your man,¡¯ Yvaine said. ¡®You know what she did while you and Ashton were stranded on that ind?¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯


    ¡®She sent out rescue teams, even hired private contractors to search the sea. Fair enough. I did the same. But she didn¡¯t stay on the ship. She flew back to Skyline while you were still missing. Turns out she runs a hugepany that specialises in cleaning up other people¡¯s messes, and she used thatpany to attack Ashton¡¯s. She was trying to take over LGH while he was gone.¡¯


    I frowned. ¡®Why?¡¯ If she really had feelings for Ashton, why try to swallow hispany while he was still lost at sea?


    Yvaine spread her hands. ¡®Don¡¯t ask me. You know I¡¯m no business brain. But I asked Emmett, and he said she picked the perfect moment. Ashton holds the controlling shares. He¡¯s the brain and heart of the wholepany. With him missing, chaos was bound to break out. Lea leveraged her position as his old friend and business ally and gained a foothold on the board. If Ashton died, she had a decent chance of bing the next CEO.¡¯


    ¡®But why would she do that? Just for money?¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s what Emmett thinks. LGH is massive, with profits anyone would kill for. But if you ask me, I¡¯d say she wants more than that. She¡¯s greedy.¡¯ Yvaine gave me a look that was half sympathy, half warning. ¡®You know why Ashton left so soon after he woke up?¡¯


    ¡®Why?¡¯


    ¡®Lea forced his hand. She told him if he wanted hispany back, he had to marry her.¡¯

 Chapter 286 Back to Skyline

    <h4>Chapter 286: Chapter 286 Back to Skyline</h4>


    The flight back to Skyline stretched on endlessly, though the captain insisted it was just under seven hours.


    Time did not obey clocks when your mind was chasing itself in circles.


    I barely touched the champagne the flight attendant pressed into my hand. Instead, I spent most of the journey staring at the clouds through the oval window, chewing on the inside of my cheek until I could taste copper.


    The man in the seat beside me, a trim sort of executive with a navy suit and a smile polished to boardroom standards, decided I looked like an easy target for conversation.


    ¡®First time visiting Skyline?¡¯ he asked, with the kind of bright cheerfulness that belonged to someone determined towork at thirty thousand feet.


    ¡®No,¡¯ I said, adjusting the nket across myp.


    He leaned closer, as if I had just opened the door to more. ¡®Do you live there or work there? I¡¯m in tech investments myself. Always interesting to meet someone new in the city. What line are you in?¡¯


    ¡®I design jewellery,¡¯ I said tly.


    His eyes lit up. ¡®How fascinating. There¡¯s a lot of synergy between luxury retail and tech investment right now. Partnerships, new retail tforms, personalisation algorithms. I¡¯d love to hear more about your business.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t want to talk about my business,¡¯ I said, tugging my earphones from my bag.


    Heughed as though I were joking. ¡®Just a short conversation. What¡¯s the name of your studio? Perhaps I can help you with capital expansion. Growth strategies, that sort of thing.¡¯


    I put my headphones in and turned to the window.


    That was the end of that.


    He muttered something under his breath, but I had stopped caring. All I could see were the storm clouds shifting below us, their shadows swallowing the sea. My thoughts dragged me back to the ind, to Ashton¡¯s feverish skin, to the way he gripped my wrist as though he might never let go.


    Then to Lea.


    By the time the wheels touched down on the runway, my chest felt as though it had been wrapped in barbed wire.


    ***


    The cab dropped me off outside Mira Joie. It was early evening, but the windows were still glowing. Through the ss, I saw Priya hunched over her desk, two pencils stabbing through her bun, her hands busy with a ne that glittered under themp.


    When I pushed open the door, the bell jingled faintly.


    Priya looked up and froze, then let out a squeal. ¡®Mira! Finally!¡¯


    Before I could say a word, she rushed at me, arms wide. The pencils ttered to the floor as she pulled me into a hug.


    ¡®Do you know how close I came to scratching your name on the wall like a prisoner counting days?¡¯ she demanded. ¡®You vanish for weeks, and I am drowning here.¡¯


    Her desk confirmed it. Coffee cups, sketches, gem samples, orders stacked in folders. My chest tightened with guilt.


    ¡®I¡¯m sorry,¡¯ I said.


    ¡®Sorry is not going to stop me turning into a corpse buried under unfinishedmissions,¡¯ she said, halfughing, half on the verge of tears. ¡®Look at this. Three custom orders overdue, one supplier demanding blood, and I had to beg someone to help with deliveries. I almost sold my soul to keep this ce alive.¡¯


    I squeezed her shoulders. ¡®I¡¯ll fix it. I¡¯ll be here more. I promise.¡¯


    She pulled back and narrowed her eyes at me. ¡®Do you mean that, or is this just a brief visit before you fly back to Paris, to your new job?¡¯


    I opened my mouth, but she had me.


    ¡®Never mind,¡¯ she said, shaking her head. ¡®I didn¡¯t mean to sound so pushy. Just... don¡¯t disappear on me again, please. This is your studio, you know.¡¯


    ¡®I won¡¯t,¡¯ I whispered.


    But I was already lying. Because even as I hugged her again, even as I looked around the studio that had once been my pride, my thoughts slipped away.


    ***


    The taxi slowed in front of Ashton¡¯s house. My stomach flipped, as though the road itself had tilted.


    The lights glowed in the windows. Warm. Inviting. And utterly not mine anymore.


    I stood on the pavement, gripping my bag until the handles dug into my palm. I had lived here,ughed here, cried here. I had kissed him in that doorway, danced with him in that living room.


    Now I was just a trespasser.


    I hovered at the gate. My hand lifted, then fell. Lifted again.


    What would I even say? That I hade back, hoping he would open the door and forgive me instantly? That I wanted to step into a life I had thrown away?


    I was still deciding whether to run when the door opened.


    ¡®Miss Mira?¡¯


    Carmen Alvarez stood there, apron tied neatly, her lined face softening into astonishment.


    ¡®Carmen,¡¯ I breathed.


    She hurried down the steps and gripped my hands. ¡®Oh, Mirabelle, you¡¯re back. I knew you¡¯d be back!¡¯


    Something broke in my chest.


    ¡®Come inside. Quickly,¡¯ she said, tugging me through the gate. ¡®It is too cold to stand here.¡¯


    I stepped into the hall, inhaling the familiar scent of polished wood. It felt like walking into a memory.


    Carmen shut the door firmly and turned to me with a frown that melted into a smile. ¡®You look thinner. Have you eaten properly?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m fine,¡¯ I said, but my voice cracked.


    ¡®You are never fine when you say that,¡¯ she scolded gently. ¡®Come. Sit. I¡¯ll make tea.¡¯


    She led me to the sitting room. Nothing had changed. The rug, the photographs, the books stacked by Ashton¡¯s chair. My chest ached.


    ¡®Mr Ashton is not home yet,¡¯ Carmen said, answering my unspoken question. She set down the teacups, and her eyes softened. ¡®I heard what happened, but I refuse to believe it. You and Mr Ashton, you two are meant to be together.¡¯


    I smiled bitterly. I wished I felt as confident as she sounded.


    She sat opposite me. ¡®I kept your room the same. He never allowed me to move anything. He didn¡¯t want me to touch it.¡¯


    My throat tightened. ¡®Carmen...¡¯


    ¡®He still cares,¡¯ she said, as if she could will me to believe it. ¡®But he will never say it. You know how he is.¡¯


    Before I could answer, my phone buzzed.


    I pulled it from my bag.


    A news alert red up at me.


    Breaking: [Ashton Laurent Spotted with Lea Lopez. Rumours of Engagement.]


    A photograph filled the screen. Ashton in a dark suit, Lea by his side, her hand brushing his sleeve as though she had every right.

 Chapter 287 The Photograph

    <h4>Chapter 287: Chapter 287 The Photograph</h4>


    The standfirst red at me, mocking: ¡®Ashton Laurent and Lea Lopez at Business Dinner. Romance Confirmed?¡¯


    My phone screen glittered with the photo, Ashton seated at a long table, Lea leaning close, a smile curved just so, her hand grazing the stem of her ss as if she were starring in some perfectly staged advert for power couples.


    The article went on to describe them as a natural match, old friends with a shared history, equals in ambition and ruthlessness.


    A note at the bottom added, almost casually, that Ashton¡¯s ex-girlfriend, a jewellery designer based partly in Paris, had been absent from public view, ¡®perhapsying down roots abroad¡¯.


    Thatst line twisted like a knife.


    I forced myself to breathe. This was not the first time I had seen Ashton in the news with another woman.


    Rowan Hale had once stered her smile across the tabloids beside his. That story had been nothing but a maniption on Rowan¡¯s part, designed to drag him into her spotlight.


    I had sworn I would not be fooled again.


    But rationale did nothing to stop the hollow ache spreading in my chest.


    My hand shook as I set the phone down.


    I had broken up with Ashton. I was the one who had looked him in the eye and told him I could not stay. I had no right to feel this way now, not jealous, not mad, not anything. He was free to dine with anyone he pleased. I had handed him that freedom myself.


    And yet, the thought of him with her made me feel as if someone had reached inside and torn something loose.


    ¡®What happened?¡¯ Carmen¡¯s voice broke into my spiralling thoughts.


    ¡®Nothing,¡¯ I said.


    She leaned over the coffee table and glimpsed my screen. Her gaze flicked to the headline, then back to me. ¡®Ah,¡¯ she murmured, her expression darkening. ¡®This rubbish again.¡¯


    ¡®I shouldn¡¯t even care,¡¯ I said quickly. ¡®I ended things with him. It is not my business.¡¯


    ¡®That may be what you tell yourself, but I know better. You love him. That is why it hurts.¡¯


    I looked away.


    Carmen reached for my hand. Her grip was firm, almost fierce. ¡®Don¡¯t let a photograph make you run. This is still your home. You belong here as much as he does. He would want you to stay.¡¯


    I shook my head. ¡®I can¡¯t.¡¯ Not like this. Not when he could walk through that door at any moment and see me falling apart. I couldn¡¯t let him see me like this.


    Carmen¡¯s voice dropped to a plea. ¡®Please. Stay. I will make you tea. I will keep youpany. Just don¡¯t leave like a thief in the night.¡¯


    I forced a smile, though it wavered. ¡®I have something I need to take care of. I wille back. Thank you for everything.¡¯


    She looked as though she wanted to argue, but she only sighed and kissed my cheek before letting me go.


    The air outside was sharp and cold, as if the city had grown teeth. I walked quickly, head down, not trusting myself to nce back at the house.


    By the time I reached Oakwood Apartments, the sky had already darkened. The building loomed, familiar yet strange at the same time. Ashton had bought the entire ce once, simply to be near me. He had even taken the t opposite mine.


    I stood in the hallway, my key heavy in my hand. My eyes flicked across the corridor, to the door opposite.


    I could still picture him leaning against that doorframe, cool and self-assured, as if he had known from the very beginning how to unravel me.


    Just behind that door was the living room where he had first suggested the contract marriage, spoken with the calm certainty of a man who always got what he wanted.


    Had it really only been months ago? It felt like another lifetime.


    Now the t would be empty. He would not be here. He had no reason to stay. The thought left me hollow.


    I slipped into my apartment and shut the door, but the silence pressed too heavily. I sank onto the sofa, staring at the opposite wall as if I could see straight through it, past ster and paint and locked doors, into the ghost of what had been.


    My phone buzzed. Another notification. People were reacting fast. Some dismissed the story, but plenty were already offering their congrattions.


    My chest ached, yet I could not stop. I scrolled on, punishing myself with every swipe of my thumb. Hoping.


    Hoping for what? For Ashton to release a statement denying it all? To dere that there was nothing between him and Lea?


    The photo might have been staged, or it could have been nothing more than a business dinner, but I had seen them together on that cruise ship with my own eyes. No headline could erase that.


    And yet he hade after me when I went on that reckless diving trip. He had risked his life. On that ind, when everything else had failed, he had been my anchor.


    That had to mean something, didn¡¯t it?


    I flung my phone aside and buried my face in a pillow with a groan.


    Endless analysis would drive me mad. There was only one way to silence the questions wing through me.


    I had to see him, to talk to him. Even if it was thest time, I needed to know.


    To know if there was still a chance for us.


    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and


    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 288 Ashton: The Boardroom

    <h4>Chapter 288: Chapter 288 Ashton: The Boardroom</h4>


    The boardroom was silent except for the faint hum of the air-conditioning. Twelve pairs of eyes were fixed on me, each one calcting, suspicious, or quietly resentful.


    The long mahogany table gleamed under the overhead lights. I sat at the head, as I always did, my right hand resting casually on the arm of the chair, though the bandages beneath my sleeve still itched and ached with every pulse.


    One of the older men cleared his throat. His name was Laurent too, though barely anyone outside the family remembered his exact connection. Second cousin once removed, perhaps. He was nearing seventy, with a heavy jaw and an air of self-importance.


    ¡®Ashton,¡¯ he began, his tone deliberately paternal. ¡®No one here doubts your capabilities, but you¡¯ve been through an ordeal. Stranded on an ind, injured, feverish. Surely you must admit you need rest. Perhaps it would be wise to step back for a time. Let others shoulder the burden until you recover.¡¯


    Several others nodded. Murmurs of agreement rippled around the table.


    They thought they were subtle, but I had seen the look in their eyes the moment I entered the room. They had scented blood.


    I steepled my fingers and regarded them without expression. ¡®You believe Laurent Global Holdings requires someone else at the helm?¡¯


    ¡®Only temporarily,¡¯ another chimed in, a distant uncle whose im to the Laurent name was as thin as his hair. ¡®Your health is paramount. And with these rumours about a Titanova takeover, the market is jittery. A steady hand, someone with more... experience, might reassure investors.¡¯


    Experience. In theirnguage, that meant age. And in their minds, my age was still an affront, a reminder that my grandfather had chosen me over all of them.


    I let them talk. I had no intention of stopping them.


    Lea¡¯s name surfaced more than once. They circled it like vultures, specting on whether she had already made her move, wondering aloud how much their shares might fetch if the rumours proved true.


    I had deliberately let the whispers spread. Rumour was a useful weapon. It revealed loyalties faster than any audit.


    Half the men around this table owed their positions not topetence but to bloodlines, favours, or sheer inertia. They had been gifted titles by Edouard Laurent, or by Reginald, who had treated thepany like a private estate to be carved up amongst friends. They were the weak links I intended to expose.


    ¡®If Titanova is truly interested,¡¯ someone ventured, ¡®perhaps it would be prudent to at least hear them out. A merger, a partnership¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Titanova does not dictate terms to LGH,¡¯ I said.


    The words dropped into the silence like stone. For a moment, no one dared speak.


    ¡®Still,¡¯ a cousin pressed, ¡®Lea Lopez is a formidable businesswoman. And you were partners once, were you not? The market knows this. Investors see sense in such an alignment.¡¯


    I thought of Lea, of the confrontation on the cruise ship.


    I had believed that would be thest time I saw her. I was wrong, in more ways than one.


    In a way, we were the same. When we wanted something, we would stop at nothing to get it.


    Maybe we had been partners once. But now she was intent on recasting us as predator and prey.


    She had already leveraged Titanova¡¯s connections to disrupt my supply chains, to lure away potential clients.


    Those were irritations, nothing more, the sort of problems that came with running a corporation as vast as LGH.


    Now she had gone for the jugr.


    ¡®If we don¡¯t sell, what if she makes good on her threat?¡¯ someone asked atst, voicing what they were all thinking.


    The rumour had already spread. A sudden ordinance from City Hall, an emergency moratorium on all newnd development and construction permits. If passed, LGH would be the prime target.


    ¡®Our projects would freeze overnight,¡¯ another said, anxious.


    ¡®Future ns locked down. No chance to prepare, no way to challenge it before it passed,¡¯ someone else added.


    And they were right.


    Unless Lea intervened.


    It was no secret she had influence over the Deputy Commissioner of Urban Development, the only man with the power to push such an ordinance through.


    What leverage she held over him¡ªmoney, ckmail, something darker¡ªwas still unclear. My people were working on it.


    If the moratorium went through, it would be almost impossible to strike down in court. LGH would bleed millions lobbying against thew, all while operations ground to a halt.


    Unless I gave Lea what she wanted.


    I leaned back in my chair, betraying nothing. The ache in my right hand pulsed steadily, but I weed it. The pain reminded me of the ind, of Mira¡¯s face lit by firelight, of the way she had trusted me with her life.


    But she had not trusted me with her love, not yet.


    That was my mistake. I had pressed too hard, too fast. I had been the one to suggest the contract marriage, the one to buy her building, the one to manipte her into living in my house. Always the strategist, always the one in control.


    But people, unlikepanies, did not bend to pressure. She had felt cornered, and when the real wedding loomed, she had fled.


    So I had let her go. Not because I wanted the breakup, but because she needed space to decide for herself.


    And I was confident. Mira might waver, but she would return. The answer would be yes.


    ¡®If there is nothing further,¡¯ I said atst, my tone final, ¡®this meeting is adjourned.¡¯


    Chairs scraped back reluctantly. The shareholders filed out, muttering in low voices. None of them looked me in the eye.


    The door clicked shut behind thest of them.


    A knock followed almost immediately.


    ¡®Come in,¡¯ I said.


    Dominic Everett slipped through the door, his dark suit immacte as always. He leaned close, lowering his voice. ¡®She¡¯s here.¡¯


    I frowned. ¡®Who?¡¯


    ¡®Mrs Laurent. I mean, Miss Vance. She¡¯s downstairs.¡¯

 Chapter 289 Confrontation at the Café

    <h4>Chapter 289: Chapter 289 Confrontation at the Caf¨¦</h4>


    The receptionist gave me a rehearsed smile, polite and immovable.


    ¡®I¡¯m sorry, Miss Vance, but you¡¯re not on Mr Laurent¡¯s schedule today. Do you have an appointment?¡¯


    The words nearly slipped out, ¡®I¡¯m his wife.¡¯


    Then reality caught up with me. I wasn¡¯t. Not anymore.


    I was still fumbling for an answer when another voice cut across the lobby.


    ¡®It¡¯s all right, I¡¯ll take care of it. Miss Vance, why don¡¯t we step this way?¡¯


    The hairs prickled at the back of my neck. I turned and found myself face to face with Lea.


    Blonde hair falling sleek around her shoulders, a fitted dress in some shade designed tomand attention without looking like it tried, makeup immacte. She looked as though she had stepped out of one of those glossy magazines featuring formidable businesswomen.


    ¡®Ash is in a meeting,¡¯ she said smoothly, already heading for the ss doors. ¡®I don¡¯t think he wants to be disturbed. Let¡¯s take this to the caf¨¦ opposite, shall we?¡¯


    Ash. The way she said it grated. As if the name belonged to her alone, as if she had the right to toss it out so lightly, like a private nickname only old friends shared. And they were old friends, but still.


    I considered brushing past her, heading straight for the lifts, daring the receptionist to stop me. But then I thought better of it. If Lea wanted to talk, I might as well find out what game she was ying.


    I followed her out of the lobby.


    The caf¨¦ was busy, filled with the clink of cups and the low hum of conversation. Lea chose a table near the window, sat down with unhurried grace, and ordered a t white as if she had all the time in the world. I ordered coffee too, though my appetite for it was gone.


    When the drinks arrived, she stirred hers leisurely, then lifted it to her lips. Not a rush in her movements.


    I leaned forward. ¡®Why did you want to talk to me?¡¯


    Her lips curved. ¡®I thought I made my point clear enough on the cruise ship.¡¯


    ¡®You want Ashton.¡¯


    ¡®I thought that was obvious.¡¯


    ¡®Yet when he was missing at sea, when his life was uncertain, you tried to steal hispany. Hardly the kind of thing someone does if they love him.¡¯


    Lea¡¯s expression barely shifted. ¡®You see, that¡¯s the difference between you and me. Ashton would understand. If you want something, you go all in. You spare no effort. And the only way to win is if you hold all the cards. If Ashton had died at sea, I would have made sure LGH continued to prosper. That¡¯s his legacy. He trusted me with Titanova, the firstpany he built. That shows how much faith he has in me. And if Ashton returned safely, wouldn¡¯t he be d to find hispany in capable hands during his absence? Either way, I made the right call.¡¯


    Her smile grew wider. ¡®And Ashton said the same.¡¯


    My throat tightened with the urge to ask, did he? But I bit the question back.


    Instead, I said, ¡®You¡¯re using thepany as leverage to threaten him now.¡¯


    Lea lifted one shoulder. ¡®It¡¯s just a tactic. Like you said, it¡¯s leverage.¡¯


    ¡®Do you really think it will work? Ashton¡¯s a proud man. He doesn¡¯t cave. Even if he marries you to keep thepany safe, do you imagine he would love you after being forced into it? You can lead a horse to water, but you cannot make it drink.¡¯


    ¡®Who cares? At least I¡¯ve got the horse.¡¯


    The words made my stomach clench. ¡®If you¡¯re so confident you¡¯ll get him, why talk to me at all?¡¯


    She took another slow sip of her coffee, then set it down with the faintest clink. ¡®To pass the time. I¡¯ve already yed my cards. It¡¯s Ashton¡¯s turn now. All I need to do is wait. Either I get the man of my dreams, or I leave Skyline and never return. I¡¯m fine with either oue.¡¯


    She leaned back. ¡®And I wanted to see thepetition. You are the woman Ashton gave up his old life for. After meeting you a second time, I realise I needn¡¯t have bothered. You¡¯re no threat.¡¯


    Heat rose in my face, blood hammering at my temples. I had never wanted to punch another woman so badly in my life.


    Lea leaned closer. Her voice dropped to a whisper.


    ¡®You¡¯re no threat because you¡¯re a coward. I¡¯m willing to put mypany, my fortune, everything I own on the line to get Ashton. Even my life. I would do anything for him.¡¯ She tilted her head, eyes gleaming. ¡®I¡¯d kill for him. In fact, I once did.¡¯


    My pupils contracted. I couldn¡¯t tell if she was joking or deadly serious.


    She stood smoothly, chair legs scraping against the floor.


    ¡®Anyway,¡¯ she said lightly, ¡®stick around. Maybe you¡¯ll be invited to our wedding.¡¯


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 Chapter 290 Charity Dinner

    <h4>Chapter 290: Chapter 290 Charity Dinner</h4>


    I checked my reflection onest time in thepact mirror, snapped it shut, and slipped it back into my clutch. Lipstick intact, hair behaving itself. I took a steadying breath and stepped into the grand hall.


    The chandeliers overhead gleamed like frozen fireworks. The clink of sses and the rise and fall of conversation filled the air. This was one of those chamber ofmerce charity dinners where a te of rubbery steak cost a five-figure ¡®donation¡¯. Normally, I would have found an excuse to skip it. I hated these events, the falseughter, the posturing, the air thick with perfume and self-importance.


    But tonight was different.


    Lea¡¯s words still rang in my head. She had said she would do anything for Ashton. Anything. That poisonous little boast had lodged under my skin. It made me ask myself the question I had been avoiding: what about me?


    I knew Ashton was buried in problems at LGH. Turning up at his office demanding to know where we stood, distracting him with rtionship drama, would only make things worse.


    If I couldn¡¯t help him, I should at least stay out of his way.


    But maybe I could help, maybe there was something I could do.


    Yvaine had pulled strings. Her brother Emmett had passed on what he knew, which was enough to confirm that LGH¡¯s biggest threat right now was a rumoured city ordinance. If it went through, it would strangle thepany¡¯s cash flow and choke its projects before they broke ground.


    It was still only talk, but that was how such things worked. A whisper became a rumour, the rumour became a certainty, and by the time the vote was cast, it was already toote.


    Emmett had given me a name. Gerard Haldane, the Deputy Commissioner of Urban Development. The man who could make or break the ordinance. And ording to the guest list, he was supposed to be here tonight.


    I didn¡¯t know what exactly I hoped to achieve, but if nothing else, I could at least meet him, test the waters.


    The dinner had not yet begun. The crowd was still mingling. I held a ss of wine I had no intention of finishing and scanned the hall, trying to match faces to the photograph I had memorised of Haldane. Silver hair, thick brows, a habit of holding his jaw too high.


    Before I could find him, another face loomed into my line of vision.


    ¡®Mira?¡¯


    I stiffened.


    Rhys.


    He had lost weight. The tuxedo hung a little too loosely on his frame. His hair was neatly styled, his jaw freshly shaved, but his eyes were weary, shadows sunk beneath them.


    ¡®What are you doing here?¡¯ he asked.


    ¡®Business,¡¯ I said coolly.


    His gaze flicked to my bare left hand. He noted the absence of a ring the way only an ex-fianc¨¦ would.


    ¡®Where¡¯s Ashton?¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s none of your business.¡¯


    His mouth curved in a bitter smile. ¡®So it¡¯s true then. He broke up with you.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s none of your business either.¡¯


    My eyes dropped, almost by reflex, to his own hand. No ring.


    Rhys noticed me watching. ¡®Cathy and I are over,¡¯ he said tly.


    ¡®I¡¯m sorry to hear that.¡¯


    I wasn¡¯t sorry at all.


    I turned back to scanning the room. A man like Haldane would make ate entrance just to be noticed. I didn¡¯t want to miss him.


    Rhys, however, was not done with me.


    ¡®I¡¯m single now,¡¯ he said.


    ¡®Congrattions,¡¯ I replied drily.


    ¡®You know I still have feelings for you.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t.¡¯


    ¡®I made a stupid mistake. I want to start over. I want us to start over.¡¯


    ¡®No, thank you.¡¯


    ¡®Is it because of Ashton? But you two are over.¡¯


    My patience snapped. ¡®I don¡¯t want to talk about this with you.¡¯


    I made to move past him, but he blocked my way, his tone turning sly.


    ¡®A man like Ashton Laurent is out of your league, Mira. You know that, don¡¯t you?¡¯


    The words struck harder than I wanted to admit. Because they touched on the thought that kept me awake at night. Maybe I wasn¡¯t good enough for Ashton. He had saved me, time and again, while I had nothing to offer when his world tilted into crisis.


    I forced the anger down, pressed my voice t and cold. ¡®I¡¯m not here to rehash old times or trade insults. If that¡¯s all you¡¯ve got to say, this conversation is over.¡¯


    I tried again to move past him. His hand shot out and closed around my arm.


    I was already lifting my other hand, ready to p him, when a new voice cut in.


    ¡®Let go of her.¡¯


    Daniel.


    Rhys¡¯s half-brother seized his wrist and wrenched it off me. Rhys stumbled, red with fury.


    ¡®What the hell are you doing?¡¯ Daniel snapped at him. ¡®Making a scene at a charity event? Pathetic.¡¯


    Rhys muttered something under his breath and slunk off into the crowd.


    Daniel turned to me, gentler. ¡®Are you all right?¡¯


    I steadied my breath and nodded. ¡®Thank you.¡¯


    He smiled faintly. The same smile that had once been warm, even boyish, back when he worked for me at my studio. That was before I knew he was a Granger. Before he started looking at me as if he wanted more than a job.


    ¡®I¡¯ve missed you,¡¯ he said quietly.


    My heart sank. Not this again.


    ¡®Thanks for helping me just now,¡¯ I said. ¡®But I¡¯m not interested in dating any of the Grangers. Not you, not Rhys.¡¯


    I turned to go, but his next words froze me.


    ¡®What if I could help you meet the Deputy Commissioner?¡¯


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 Chapter 291 Collapse

    <h4>Chapter 291: Chapter 291 Copse</h4>


    I didn¡¯t know if I should trust him.


    Daniel said it smoothly, the way he always did, as though connections were something he carried around in his back pocket.


    He imed he¡¯d met Haldane at a business event, that Clive Granger¡¯spany had ties to the man¡¯s family. Then, with a self-satisfied smile, he corrected himself. Soon to be HISpany, not Clive¡¯s.


    ¡®Not only that,¡¯ he went on, ¡®the Grangers have been very generous with donations. City hall, Haldane¡¯s campaign fund. If I want him to take a meeting, he¡¯ll take it. No question.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t believe in free favours, not in Skyline, not anywhere. ¡®And the price?¡¯ I asked tly.


    Daniel¡¯s smile widened. ¡®A date with me.¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯


    He held up a hand in mock surrender. ¡®Don¡¯t say no so fast. I¡¯m not asking you to be my girlfriend. Just dinner. Maybe a movie after. That¡¯s it. I won¡¯t even ask for a kiss.¡¯


    ¡®Why?¡¯ I asked. ¡®You can have plenty of women. Any woman you want.¡¯


    ¡®Except the one I want,¡¯ he said, eyes fixed on me with infuriating intensity. ¡®I¡¯ve got eyes only for you.¡¯


    Iughed without humour. ¡®I don¡¯t believe that. You¡¯re only trying to use me to get at Rhys.¡¯


    His grin tilted. ¡®You got me. Fine. That¡¯s what I want. But you¡¯ll benefit too. Call it a win-win. What do you say?¡¯


    I hesitated. I didn¡¯t hate Daniel, but I had sworn to cut all ties with the Granger family. Trouble clung to them like smoke, and I¡¯d already breathed in enough of that poison.


    Still...


    ¡®Instead of introducing me to Haldane,¡¯ I said slowly, ¡®could you introduce someone else?¡¯


    His brows drew together. ¡®Who?¡¯


    ¡®Ashton.¡¯


    Daniel¡¯s smile faltered. For a second, I saw calction behind his eyes, then doubt. ¡®I know what you¡¯re trying to do. The moratorium rumour¡¯s everywhere, and LGH will take the hardest hit. But I don¡¯t think a meeting between Ashton and Haldane is a good idea.¡¯


    ¡®Why not?¡¯


    He swirled the ice in his ss, stalling. ¡®There are things you don¡¯t know. Haldane isn¡¯t an idiot. Normally he¡¯d never back a moratorium that puts him at odds with every developer in the city. He knows it makes enemies of all the wrong people. Yet here we are. From thest few conversations I had with him, I got the feeling he hated the whole thing but still had to push it through. As if someone¡¯s forcing him.¡¯


    I stood straighter. ¡®Who do you think forced him?¡¯


    Daniel gave a careless shrug. ¡®Beats me. It¡¯s an open secret at the Urban Development office that he¡¯s been in a foul mood, blowing up behind closed doors. He¡¯s near retirement age. Could be politics, could be money. Could be anything.¡¯


    I frowned, turning his words over. City hall wasn¡¯t my territory. I didn¡¯t know Haldane beyond a name on a website. But if Daniel was right, then Haldane was only a puppet. Someone else was pulling the strings. Someone who wanted to choke LGH¡¯s cash flow and strangle Ashton¡¯spany.


    The thought that sprang to mind made my pulse quicken. Lea Lopez.


    It fit her too well. The ruthless style, the willingness to use leverage, the taste for destruction when she wanted something. I didn¡¯t know if she had the power to sway city hall, but if anyone did, it was her.


    Daniel¡¯s voice pulled me back. ¡®Haldane¡¯s not taking meetings with developers. He won¡¯t see Ashton, or anyone even remotely tied to LGH. But you¡ª¡¯ he gestured at me with his ss, ¡®you¡¯re different. You¡¯re a jewellery designer. That¡¯s why I¡¯m confident he¡¯ll see you. Just don¡¯t hold out too much hope. The moment you bring up Ashton or LGH, he¡¯ll shut the door.¡¯


    I knew he was right.


    Daniel set his ss down and leaned in, eyes intent. ¡®So. I¡¯veid everything out. Do you still want the meeting?¡¯


    I opened my mouth to reply, but the words never came.


    From across the hall, a sharp cry split the murmur of the crowd, followed by the scrape of chairs and a risingmotion. Heads turned, voices rose. A ripple of rm spread through the chamber.


    And then I saw him.


    Ashton.


    He staggered, his tall frame suddenly unsteady, before copsing to the polished floor.


    My heart stopped.

 Chapter 292 A Deal

    <h4>Chapter 292: Chapter 292 A Deal</h4>


    Ashton¡¯s knees buckled and he went down hard on the marble floor, the sound echoing over the chatter of champagne sses and falseughter.


    The hall erupted into gasps and shrieks. A circle of glittering gowns and tuxedos pressed forward, every pair of eyes wide with morbid curiosity.


    ¡®Ashton!¡¯ I dropped beside him, my knees skidding on the polished tiles. His skin was burning beneath my touch. His eyes fluttered open, zed, then rolled back.


    ¡®Someone call an ambnce!¡¯ I shouted.


    ¡®I¡¯ll handle it.¡¯ Daniel crouched at my side, his phone already out.


    ¡®Do it fast,¡¯ I snapped, brushing Ashton¡¯s damp hair back. ¡®Ashton, can you hear me? Stay with me.¡¯


    A murmur ran through the crowd. I caught snatches. Fever. Infection. Poor man, after that ordeal at sea. Isn¡¯t he the one supposed to be marrying that Lopez woman?


    ¡®Give him some space!¡¯ I barked, ring up at the gawkers. No one moved until a man in a tuxedo reluctantly tugged his wife back.


    Ashton groaned, low and rough. My heart clenched. ¡®I¡¯m here. Don¡¯t talk. Just breathe.¡¯


    The ambnce came in a wail of sirens, but the minutes until it arrived stretched like hours. Paramedics pushed through.


    ¡®Miss, please step aside.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m going with him,¡¯ I said.


    No one argued.


    The ride was a blur of shing lights and medical jargon. I sat hunched in the corner, clutching his uninjured hand. The bandaged right hand rested across his chest, swollen under the gauze. Even now, fever burning him up, his body still carried thatmanding presence.


    At the hospital, they rushed him through swinging doors. I was forced to let go. The corridor swallowed me whole. I sat rigid on a hard stic chair, staring at the linoleum until the words floated to me from a group of doctors.


    ¡®Infection stabilised, but... risk of permanent nerve damage.¡¯


    ¡®The hand might never regain full function.¡¯


    My stomach pitched. Permanent. Nerve damage. Because of me. Because I had dragged him diving, because I had been too stubborn to admit when I was out of my depth.


    I pressed my fist against my mouth, eyes burning.


    If I had stayed away, none of this would have happened. He would be whole, not broken.


    But leaving had only hurt him more.


    Not again.


    Never again.


    I straightened, wiped my eyes, and forced myself to stand.


    By the time Dominic Everett appeared in the waiting area, I had been pacing for hours. His tie was loosened, his usualposure rattled.


    ¡®Miss Vance,¡¯ he said quickly, ¡®how is he?¡¯


    ¡®Stable,¡¯ I told him, and for once my voice didn¡¯t shake. ¡®The fever¡¯s broken for now. He needs rest.¡¯


    ¡®I know, but...¡¯ Dominic¡¯s mouth tightened. ¡®LGH is in chaos. The shareholders are unsettled, the press is circling, and Miss Lopez¡ª¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯ I cut him off. ¡®You¡¯ll not disturb him withpany matters until he recovers. Do you understand? Tell whoever you must that Ashton Laurent is unavable. That¡¯s final.¡¯


    He studied me, as though weighing whether I had the authority to issue suchmands. Then, to my surprise, he nodded. ¡®Very well.¡¯


    When he left, silence seeped back in, thick and oppressive. I sat at Ashton¡¯s bedside. The beeping monitors were steady, but his bandaged hand rested lifeless on the sheet.


    Lea¡¯s words at the caf¨¦ reyed in my mind. She had sipped her coffee, eyes smug, and told me she was willing to risk everything for Ashton. She had said she would even kill.


    What was I willing to do for him?


    When Daniel appeared the next morning, I didn¡¯t dismiss him outright.


    ¡®I heard about the copse. Thought you might need help,¡¯ he said casually.


    ¡®I don¡¯t need you. But you said you could arrange a meeting with Deputy Commissioner Haldane.¡¯


    His brows lifted. ¡®I can. But nothinges free.¡¯


    ¡®I know,¡¯ I said tly.


    He brightened. ¡®So it¡¯s a yes on the date? Just dinner, I promise. Maybe a film. No strings. Just one night.¡¯


    I gave him a long, hard look. ¡®You don¡¯tck women, Daniel. Why me?¡¯


    He grinned and gave me the truth this time. ¡®Because you¡¯re the one Rhys still dreams about. Hurts him more if you¡¯re with me.¡¯


    ¡®So this is about Rhys.¡¯


    ¡®Partly,¡¯ he admitted with a shrug. ¡®But also because I want you. Win-win.¡¯


    I folded my arms. ¡®I¡¯m not going on a date with you, but I can offer you something better. You¡¯ve been fighting Louisa Granger at thepany, haven¡¯t you? She¡¯ll never let you take your ce while she¡¯s protecting Rhys. If I talk to her, persuade her to stop sabotaging you, you¡¯ll have a clean shot.¡¯


    For the first time, his smirk faltered.


    ¡®You¡¯d really do that?¡¯


    ¡®I will. If you deliver Haldane.¡¯


    He studied me for a moment, calcting, then nodded slowly. ¡®Deal.¡¯


    I extended my hand. He took it.

 Chapter 293 A Difficult Meeting

    <h4>Chapter 293: Chapter 293 A Difficult Meeting</h4>


    I hadn¡¯t seen Louisa Granger in months, not properly, not since my broken engagement with Rhys.


    She had always liked me. Sometimes I even thought she loved me more than my own mother did. When I was younger, she would invite me for tea in her sunlit drawing room, listen to my chatter, and beam at me as if she was already imagining me as her daughter-inw. She wanted me married to Rhys so badly it seemed like it was her dream as much as his.


    But that was before everything went wrong. Before Rhys destroyed whatever we had with a p, before he married Catherine, and before the Granger family unravelled.


    Since then, I had kept my distance.


    Now I was walking into a quiet caf¨¦ in Midtown, the kind of ce with whitewashed walls, leafy nts, and soft jazz floating from hidden speakers. Neutral ground. I thought it safer than her house, which was haunted with memories I didn¡¯t want to stir up.


    She was already there, sitting near the window with a cup of coffee untouched in front of her.


    Louisa had always been immacte, the type of woman who never had a hair out of ce, who made sixty look like forty with the right lighting and an easy smile.


    But today she looked tired. Her blond hair was still swept into its usual chignon, but the lines around her mouth had deepened, and the faint puffiness beneath her eyes spoke of sleepless nights.


    ¡®Mira,¡¯ she said as I approached, her voice cool.


    ¡®Mrs Granger,¡¯ I said politely, slipping into the chair opposite.


    ¡®Louisa,¡¯ she corrected automatically. She had always insisted on that, even when I was a teenager. But there was no warmth in it today.


    We sat for a moment in silence. She stirred her coffee, though she didn¡¯t drink it. I folded my hands in myp.


    ¡®You¡¯ve changed,¡¯ she said finally, her eyes scanning my face. ¡®A woman now, not the girl who used to sit in my kitchen sipping tea.¡¯


    ¡®I suppose I have,¡¯ I said.


    ¡®You¡¯ve made quite a name for yourself as a designer. I saw your portfolio the other day. Very elegant.¡¯


    ¡®Thank you.¡¯


    Her mouth tightened. ¡®You¡¯re doing well. But Rhys isn¡¯t. If you¡¯d stayed with him...¡¯


    I had expected that, but the words still stung. ¡®He hurt me first,¡¯ I said quietly.


    ¡®I know what he did,¡¯ Louisa admitted, ncing away. ¡®But he¡¯s my son. No matter how badly he behaved, he¡¯s still my son. And now... look at him. Divorced. Drinking too much. Losing favour with his father.¡¯ She pressed her lips together. ¡®And you... you walked away. Perhaps you could have steadied him, but instead you left.¡¯


    I bit back my instinct to defend myself. This wasn¡¯t about me, or even about Rhys.


    ¡®Louisa,¡¯ I said softly, leaning forward. ¡®You know I always cared for you. I always will. But let¡¯s speak inly. You know why we are meeting today. Daniel is not going anywhere. Clive acknowledged him, officially. He has his name, his ce in thepany. Sabotaging him only creates instability, and you know instability is poison to business.¡¯


    Her eyes snapped to mine, sharp and cold. ¡®So you¡¯re here on his behalf? That bastard boy sends you to plead for him?¡¯


    ¡®No,¡¯ I said firmly. ¡®Daniel didn¡¯t send me. But I spoke to him, and I know he wants a ce at the table. He¡¯s ambitious, yes, and reckless sometimes, but he has a head for business. You undermining him only strengthens his resolve. It makes him hungrier. What you¡¯re doing now, it won¡¯t make him disappear. It will just make the Granger family weaker.¡¯


    Louisa¡¯s face hardened, but she didn¡¯t interrupt.


    I took a breath and went for the part that mattered. ¡®What if I could persuade Daniel to share? Not management, but shares. Enough for Rhys to livefortably, to have security for the rest of his life. That way, you won¡¯t need to keep fighting Daniel. Rhys will still be looked after, no matter what happens in thepany.¡¯


    Louisa¡¯s hand tightened on her spoon. ¡®And what about Rhys¡¯s ce in the business? He deserves to have a seat at the table. He is my son.¡¯


    ¡®You know as well as I do that Rhys has no talent for management. He¡¯s not cut out for it. And right now, after what I saw at the charity dinner, he needs detox more than he needs a boardroom. Throwing him back into thepany will not save him, it will ruin him further. Daniel won¡¯t allow it anyway, and Clive knows the truth as well as you do.¡¯


    Louisa inhaled slowly, her knuckles white against the porcin cup.


    ¡®Rhys is my son,¡¯ she repeated, but softer this time, more like a plea than an argument.


    ¡®I know,¡¯ I said. ¡®And that¡¯s why I¡¯m saying this. Let Daniel rise. Stop undermining him. If he seeds, he can look after Rhys in ways thepany never will. And if he fails, it won¡¯t be because of you sabotaging him from the inside.¡¯


    For a long moment, Louisa said nothing. Then, finally, she gave a small, bitterugh. ¡®You¡¯ve be clever, Mira. Too clever for me to like it.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m only being practical,¡¯ I said.


    She studied me for what felt like forever, then exhaled and sat back in her chair. ¡®Very well. I¡¯ll speak to my people. I¡¯ll tell them to stop working against Daniel. But if he ever betrays this family, if he ever turns against us, it won¡¯t be me he¡¯ll have to fear. It will be Clive.¡¯


    I nodded. That was as much of a victory as I could expect.


    When I told Danielter that afternoon, his reaction was almostical. He blinked at me as if I¡¯d told him the sky was green.


    ¡®She agreed?¡¯ he asked.


    ¡®She agreed,¡¯ I confirmed.


    He let out a low whistle. ¡®Mira, you¡¯ve done what I thought was impossible. Louisa Granger never changes her mind.¡¯


    ¡®She has this time,¡¯ I said.


    Daniel grinned, shaking his head. ¡®Then a deal¡¯s a deal. I¡¯ll arrange your introduction to Haldane. But I¡¯ll warn you again. He¡¯s under pressure. If you bring up LGH, he may cut the meeting short before you even get a word in.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll take that risk,¡¯ I said.


    Besides, I wouldn¡¯t be going in unprepared.

 Chapter 294 Blackmail Material

    <h4>Chapter 294: Chapter 294 ckmail Material</h4>


    I had never beenfortable around Emmett Carlisle.


    He was Yvaine¡¯s older brother, tall, sharp-featured, and always dressed in dark suits that seemed to sharpen his edges even more. If Yvaine was sunlight, Emmett was steel. He carried himself like a man who measured every word before letting it out, and most of the time, he decided silence was better.


    When I called him to ask for a meeting, he agreed, but I could hear the unspoken question in his voice. Why me? Why now?


    We met in his office, a ss-walled space high above the city, with views that stretched to the harbour. The shelves were lined with files, ledgers, and a few awards. Nothing personal, not even a photo frame. It was the office of someone who believed sentiment had no ce in business.


    ¡®Mirabelle,¡¯ he said when I walked in, his tone clipped. He stood, shook my hand briefly, and gestured for me to sit.


    ¡®Thank you for seeing me,¡¯ I said, settling into the leather chair opposite his desk.


    He watched me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. ¡®Yvaine said you¡¯ve been... busy.¡¯


    ¡®She worries too much,¡¯ I said.


    ¡®No,¡¯ Emmett replied. ¡®She doesn¡¯t worry enough.¡¯


    That silenced me. He leaned back, steepling his fingers. ¡®Why are you involving yourself in this? These fights between corporations, this tug of war at city hall¡ªit¡¯s not your world.¡¯


    ¡®I know,¡¯ I admitted.


    ¡®Then why?¡¯


    I hesitated, then forced myself to meet his eyes. ¡®Because Ashton¡¯s in trouble. And if I can¡¯t help him, then what am I to him? Love isn¡¯t just standing around hoping things work out. It¡¯s protecting the people you love, and the things they¡¯ve built. Ashton spent years building LGH. If I can do something, anything, to keep it safe, then I have to.¡¯


    For a moment, there was silence. Then, unexpectedly, the corner of Emmett¡¯s mouth lifted, almost a smile. ¡®Love as strategy. I never thought I would hear that from you.¡¯


    ¡®It isn¡¯t strategy,¡¯ I said quickly. ¡®It¡¯s survival. If he loses LGH, he¡¯ll lose a part of himself. I won¡¯t let that happen.¡¯


    Emmett regarded me with something like amusement, though his eyes stayed cool. ¡®You have more fire than I gave you credit for.¡¯


    ¡®Does that mean you¡¯ll help me?¡¯


    He tapped his fingers against the desk. ¡®The proposed moratorium is a disaster waiting to happen. Not just for Ashton. For every developer in this city. Of course I oppose it. And if Gerard Haldane is the one pushing it, then there may be a reason.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s what I need to know,¡¯ I said.


    ¡®Careful, Mira,¡¯ he said, his voice dropping lower. ¡®Digging into men like Haldane has consequences. You think you are stepping into Ashton¡¯s world, but Ashton knows the rules. You don¡¯t. One wrong move, and it won¡¯t be him who pays the price. It will be you.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll take that risk,¡¯ I said.


    Again, that flicker of amusement. ¡®Very well. I will put some people on it. But it will take time.¡¯


    ¡®How long?¡¯


    ¡®A week. Maybe more. Be patient.¡¯


    Patience had never been my strength, but I nodded anyway.


    ***


    True to his word, a weekter, Emmett summoned me back. He was waiting in the same chair, but this time a slim folder sat open on his desk. He pushed it towards me as I sat.


    ¡®This is what we found,¡¯ he said.


    I flipped through the papers, my pulse quickening. Bank transfers that didn¡¯t match his dered assets. Land purchases hidden under shellpanies. A mistress tucked away in a serviced apartment. Even a gambling trip to Macau where the losses were staggering, but mysteriously covered by unnamed benefactors.


    I stared at the pages. ¡®This is...¡¯


    ¡®Enough to destroy him,¡¯ Emmett said.


    I swallowed. ¡®This is what Lea used, isn¡¯t it? This is how she forced him into pushing the moratorium.¡¯


    Emmett nodded. ¡®That¡¯s my guess as well. Lea Lopez is not someone to underestimate. If you think you can outmanoeuvre her, think again. She ys with sharper knives than you have ever held.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t care,¡¯ I said.


    ¡®You should.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t have a choice. If I wait, Ashton loses everything. If I act, maybe we still have a chance.¡¯


    Emmett studied me for a long time, then finally gave a short nod. ¡®Very well. But if you y this card too soon, she will know it was you. And she will retaliate.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll be ready,¡¯ I said, though my stomach knotted as I spoke.


    He closed the folder and slid it into a in envelope. ¡®Then this is yours.¡¯


    ***


    A week after that first meeting, I stood outside a hotel conference room with the envelope clutched in my bag. The hotel was one of those sleek, modern ces with marble floors and brass ents, full of people in expensive suits who looked like they had been born negotiating.


    I paused by the door, checked my reflection in the ss wall opposite. My lipstick was steady, my hair pinned neatly. No trembling hands, no racing heart visible from the outside. Inside, though, it was a different story.


    I thought of Ashton lying pale in his hospital bed, of his bandaged hand, of the fever that had nearly killed him. I thought of Lea¡¯s mocking voice, telling me I was no threat.


    Then I straightened my shoulders, lifted my hand, and knocked.

 Chapter 295 Showdown

    <h4>Chapter 295: Chapter 295 Showdown</h4>


    The hotel conference room smelled faintly of coffee and air freshener. Gerard Haldane was already there, seated at the head of the table. He rose when I walked in, his hand extended, his politician¡¯s smile warm and well-rehearsed.


    ¡®Miss Vance,¡¯ he said, as if we were old friends. ¡®Daniel tells me you are quite the designer. I must admit, I expected someone... older. Please, sit.¡¯


    He gestured to a chair opposite. His voice was smooth, the sort that had charmed donors and constituents for decades.


    I smiled politely and took the seat. ¡®Thank you for agreeing to see me.¡¯


    ¡®For Daniel¡¯s friends, always,¡¯ Haldane said. His eyes flicked over me, quick and assessing. ¡®Now, how can I help? Were you thinking of making a contribution to themissioner¡¯s fund? We wee support from the creative sector, especially one as talented as you.¡¯


    So that was it. He thought I was here to write a cheque.


    I folded my hands on the table. ¡®Actually, I¡¯m here about the proposed moratorium.¡¯


    The warmth drained from his face. His smile froze, then faded. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm on the wood. ¡®I see. Then this meeting is a mistake. Whatever Daniel told you, Miss Vance, I don¡¯t take audiences with property developers. Or their girlfriends.¡¯


    Thest word came out sharp, edged with disdain.


    ¡®I¡¯m not here as anyone¡¯s girlfriend. I¡¯m here because I have something you should see.¡¯


    I slid the envelope across the table. He didn¡¯t reach for it.


    ¡®You¡¯re wasting your time,¡¯ he said tly. ¡®This discussion is over.¡¯


    I opened the envelope myself, spread the papers neatly before him. Bank statements,nd records, names of shellpanies, photos of a woman entering his tte at night. His hand stopped tapping.


    ¡®What is this?¡¯ he demanded.


    ¡®Your life,¡¯ I said softly. ¡®The parts you keep hidden. The same things someone else already has. Lea Lopez. She is using it to control you, isn¡¯t she?¡¯


    Hisplexion turned an unhealthy grey. His lips parted, but no sound came. Then he leaned forward, his voice a low growl. ¡®Where did you get this?¡¯


    ¡®That doesn¡¯t matter. What matters is that if you continue with the moratorium, I will make it public. Every line, every detail. Your career, your reputation, your family¡ªit will all copse. Unless you withdraw it.¡¯


    He pushed back in his chair, breathing hard. Sweat had appeared at his temples. ¡®You have no idea what you¡¯re meddling with. Do you think you¡¯re the first to try? Lopez has more power than you can imagine. She promised to ruin me if I refused. She will do worse to you.¡¯


    ¡®Lea won¡¯t be a problem much longer,¡¯ I said. My voice sounded steadier than I felt.


    He gave a humourlessugh. ¡®You think you can stop her?¡¯


    ¡®I know I can. I¡¯ve already started.¡¯


    He searched my face, as if weighing the truth. For a moment, his mask slipped and I saw the tired man beneath, older than his years, cornered.


    ¡®If I retract the proposal, she wille after me,¡¯ he said.


    ¡®If you don¡¯t, I will.¡¯


    Silence stretched between us. His eyes darted back to the evidence on the table. His hands trembled slightly, betraying him.


    Finally, he whispered, ¡®What are you going to do?¡¯


    ¡®You will announce you are stepping down, for personal reasons. Health, family, whatever excuse you like. You will quietly withdraw the moratorium. No one has to know why. Not if you cooperate.¡¯


    He stared at me, then let out a long breath, the fight leaving him. ¡®If you fail to stop her, she¡¯ll bury us both.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t n on failing.¡¯


    ***


    That night, with the adrenaline still buzzing in my veins, I sat in Dominic Everett¡¯s office. He had listened to everything I told him, his brow furrowed, his usual calm ruffled atst.


    ¡®You¡¯re ying with fire,¡¯ he said.


    ¡®I don¡¯t care. I need allies. You said once that Ashton had friends in Europe. People who used to work with him. Do you still have their numbers?¡¯


    Dominic hesitated. Then he unlocked his phone, scrolled, and slid it across to me. ¡®Kylian Martin. Olivier Rossi. They were close once. They know Lea, better than most.¡¯


    The next morning, I was on a video call with them. Kylian was lean, sharp-eyed, his French ent curling around every word. Olivier was broader, darker, his tone measured, cautious.


    ¡®You¡¯re Ashton¡¯s... friend?¡¯ Olivier asked carefully.


    ¡®I¡¯m more than that,¡¯ I said. ¡®And I need your help.¡¯


    Kylian leaned forward. ¡®We heard about what Lea did. We don¡¯t necessarily agree with it. Ashton¡¯s our boss and friend, after all. Still, Lea¡¯s our friend too. Why would we involve ourselves?¡¯


    ¡®Because she is out of control,¡¯ I said quickly. ¡®She is trying to strangle LGH through a moratorium. She is threatening city officials. All this, just to force Ashton to be with her. If you are Ashton¡¯s friends, you should be helping him instead of stepping back and watching him suffer.¡¯


    The men exchanged a look.


    Olivier said, ¡®Even if this is true, why should we take the risk?¡¯


    ¡®Because she will destroy you too, eventually,¡¯ I said. ¡®She feeds on power. Ashton trusted her once, and she turned on him. How long before she turns on you?¡¯


    There was another long silence. Then Kylian gave a slow nod. ¡®If what you say is true, maybe it¡¯s time she remembers she doesn¡¯t hold all the cards.¡¯


    ¡®What do you need us to do?¡¯ Olivier asked.


    I told them.

 Chapter 296 The Enemy Retreats

    <h4>Chapter 296: Chapter 296 The Enemy Retreats</h4>


    I¡¯d been sitting on the Marchands¡¯ number for three days before I finally picked up the phone. My palms were damp, my heart racing as if I was about to jump off a cliff.


    Yvaine would probably call it reckless. Ashton would call it unnecessary. But I knew it was the next move.


    Fran?oise Marchand answered. Her voice was warm at first, polite, until I mentioned Lea Lopez. Then it froze.


    ¡®Why are you calling me about her?¡¯ she said, sharp as a de.


    ¡®I need to tell you something,¡¯ I said. ¡®And I think you¡¯ve suspected it for some time.¡¯


    Silence. Then, cautiously, ¡®Go on.¡¯


    ¡®I know what Lea did to Pierre. She made up the abuse ims. There was never any violence. She pushed the divorce through with lies because she wanted out, she wanted to be with Ashton, and Pierre was in the way.¡¯


    I could hear Fran?oise¡¯s breath catch. A faint sound, almost like a muffled sob, but then anger hardened it. ¡®We always thought it was strange. Pierre never raised a hand to her. He adored her, that was the tragedy. And she ruined him.¡¯


    Another voice broke in. Antone Marchand had clearly taken the phone. His tone was thunder. ¡®Do you have proof?¡¯


    ¡®Not in the way a court might want,¡¯ I admitted. ¡®But I know people who can back me up. Lea¡¯s old allies, men who saw the games she yed, the maniption, the way she used people. And I know she¡¯s been using the same tactics here in Skyline. She¡¯s threatening city officials. She¡¯s trying to take Ashton¡¯spany piece by piece.¡¯ And im Ashton as the trophy.


    There was a long silence on the line. Then Antone said, very low, ¡®Tell me what you want from us.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t want money, I don¡¯t want favours,¡¯ I said quickly. ¡®I want Lea out of Skyline. You still have influence in Europe. If you put pressure on her businesses there, if you make noise, she¡¯ll have to go back. She can¡¯t fight on two fronts.¡¯


    Fran?oise¡¯s voice came back, stronger now, almost gleeful. ¡®Oh, we can do more than make noise. She has enemies. She thinks she buried them, but they¡¯lle crawling out once they smell blood. And if she thinks she can keep bleeding us with lies, she¡¯s mistaken.¡¯


    ¡®We¡¯ll see to it,¡¯ Antone added. ¡®In fact, we¡¯ve already started before your call.¡¯


    When I hung up, I was shaking, but not with fear. With relief. It was the first real strike back.


    Four dayster, the ripple reached Skyline. Whispers at first, then louder, then exploding across business circles. Titanova¡¯s European arm was suddenly facingwsuits in Paris. A supply partner in Mn cut ties. Banks started ¡®reviewing¡¯ credit lines.


    By the end of the week, Lea¡¯s name was mud in every financial paper worth printing.


    And then the bombshell: Lea Lopez was spotted at Skyline International Airport, boarding a flight to Eindhoven.


    I almost didn¡¯t believe it until I saw the photos.


    I called Haldane straight away. He answered on the second ring, his tone clipped, wary. ¡®Miss Vance. This isn¡¯t a good time.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s the perfect time,¡¯ I said. ¡®Lea¡¯s gone. She¡¯s on her way back to Europe. You don¡¯t have to carry water for her anymore.¡¯


    Silence. Then a tired sigh.


    ¡®I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡¯ he muttered.


    ¡®Yes, you do,¡¯ I said. ¡®She threatened you. She had dirt on you. I¡¯m not here to judge, but I am telling you, her grip is broken. You don¡¯t owe her anything anymore. She won¡¯t be back in Skyline for some time. Withdraw the moratorium. Do it before it destroys the whole city¡¯s economy.¡¯


    There was a scrape, like he¡¯d pushed his chair back. He lowered his voice, as if someone might overhear. ¡®You don¡¯t understand the mess I¡¯m in.¡¯


    ¡®I do,¡¯ I said firmly. ¡®I know about thend deals, remember? The shellpanies. Even the affair you thought nobody noticed. You think Lea¡¯s the only one who can expose you? She¡¯s not. But I¡¯m not here to ruin you. I¡¯m here to give you a way out.¡¯


    Another heavy silence. Then he said, hoarse, ¡®She promised she¡¯d bury me.¡¯


    ¡®She can¡¯t bury you from Eindhoven if you act fast,¡¯ I said. ¡®You have a chance to walk away. Withdraw the moratorium. Retire early. Disappear with your pension and some dignity intact. That¡¯s your best option. Take it.¡¯


    He exhaled, long and ragged.


    ¡®I¡¯ll do it,¡¯ he said atst. ¡®I¡¯ll call a press briefing tomorrow. And then I¡¯m done. I¡¯ll be gone before the week¡¯s out.¡¯


    I hung up, sat back, and pressed both hands to my face.


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 Chapter 297 If You Wake Up

    <h4>Chapter 297: Chapter 297 If You Wake Up</h4>


    The hospital room was dim except for the steady glow of the monitor by Ashton¡¯s bed. Machines hummed and ticked in a rhythm that had be both afort and a torment to me.


    I sat curled in the chair beside him, one hand resting on the nket near his.


    He looked thinner already, as though the fever had carved away at him in just a few days. His skin was pale, almost translucent under the harsh hospital lights, and his mouth was drawn tight even in sleep.


    Yet, even haggard like this, he was still devastatingly handsome. The sharp line of his jaw, the darkshes against his cheek, the faint furrow between his brows, all of it made my chest ache.


    Sometimes he stirred, his lips moving faintly, a sound breaking out, so soft I almost thought I imagined it.


    Then, once, unmistakably, he whispered my name.


    My throat closed up. I leaned closer, pressing my ear near his mouth as if he might say it again.


    He didn¡¯t.


    But I¡¯d heard it, and the way it had sounded, raw and tender, was enough to make tears prick the corners of my eyes.


    ¡®You¡¯re still fighting,¡¯ I whispered, brushing the damp strands of hair from his forehead. His skin burned under my fingers, the fever still holding him hostage. ¡®But you¡¯re not fighting alone.¡¯


    The door opened quietly. Dominic slipped in, looking tired butposed as always, a file tucked under his arm. He nodded politely to me before speaking in a low voice, as if not to disturb Ashton.


    ¡®The board has calmed down. With the moratorium withdrawn, confidence is back. Shares stabilised this morning. No one¡¯s panicking anymore.¡¯


    I let out a long breath. ¡®Thank God.¡¯


    Dominic hesitated, then said, ¡®He pushed himself too hard for too long. This, all of this, is the cost. But... he¡¯ll be proud of you. When he finds out.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t tell him,¡¯ I said quickly. ¡®Not yet. He doesn¡¯t need more pressure. I just... I just want him to wake up first. That¡¯s all that matters.¡¯


    Dominic inclined his head, respectful as always, then left me alone again.


    The quiet pressed back in, heavy and suffocating. I leaned forward, resting my arms on the bed, and finally let the words spill. Words I¡¯d been carrying, choking on, refusing to let myself say.


    ¡®Ashton,¡¯ I murmured, keeping my voice soft though I knew he couldn¡¯t really hear me, or maybe he could, who knew? ¡®I need you to wake up. Because I need to take something back. I was wrong to break up with you. I was wrong to push you away.¡¯


    My voice cracked. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to keep going.


    ¡®I told myself I didn¡¯t deserve you. That you were too far out of my league, too brilliant, too strong, too untouchable. And maybe that was true at the start. I thought all I could do was drag you down. And when you got hurt, I med myself. That stupid dive, that stupid trip, and suddenly you were the one paying the price. I hated myself for that.¡¯


    The tears came then, hot and relentless. I pressed my face against his arm, the scent of antiseptic and faint traces of him breaking me all over again.


    ¡®But thesest weeks showed me something. I¡¯m not powerless. I can fight for you, the way you always fought for me. I can protect the things you love. I can stand beside you, not behind you, not as some girl who needs saving every time the world throws a stone at her.¡¯


    I lifted my head, blinking through tears. His face was still, and yet his chest rose and fell, steady and stubborn.


    ¡®I love you,¡¯ I whispered, the words escaping before I could catch them. My heart pounded, as if it couldn¡¯t believe I¡¯d finally said it aloud. ¡®I¡¯ve loved you longer than I¡¯ll admit, even when I was pretending I didn¡¯t. Even when I told myself you belonged to someone like Lea, or to a world I¡¯d never fit in. But I do. I fit here, with you. I want to.¡¯


    The words tumbled faster, unstoppable now.


    ¡®I¡¯ll sell my shares in Valmont & Cie. I¡¯ll walk away from Paris, from everything I thought mattered more than you. I¡¯ll even give up Mira Joie if I have to. I¡¯ll do it all, if it means you¡¯ll open your eyes and look at me again. Because nothing matters without you. Nothing.¡¯


    My hand found his, cold and limp beneath the hospital sheet. I held on tight, tighter than I ever had.


    ¡®So if you can hear me,¡¯ I whispered, ¡®if even a part of you is listening, please, wake up. Because I don¡¯t want a world where you¡¯re not in it. I don¡¯t want to waste another second pretending I don¡¯t love you.¡¯


    I kissed the back of his hand, my lips lingering against his skin.


    And for a heartbeat, I thought I felt the faintest squeeze back.

 Chapter 298 Ashton: The Weight of Silence

    <h4>Chapter 298: Chapter 298 Ashton: The Weight of Silence</h4>


    I surfaced from the dark slowly, as though I were dragging myself out of deep water. My body felt heavy, my head thick, and for a long moment I couldn¡¯t tell if I was awake or still lost somewhere in the fog of fever. Shapes swam in and out of view, a dull light cutting through the haze.


    Then I saw her.


    Mira, sitting in the chair by my bed, her chin resting on her hand, her eyes fixed on me as if she was willing me to open mine.


    I thought I was dreaming again. My mind had yed that trick before, conjuring her face when I drifted in and out of half-consciousness.


    ¡®Mira?¡¯ My voice was rough, barely more than a whisper.


    Her head snapped up, eyes wide. Relief flooded her face so fiercely it almost hurt to look at.


    She reached for my hand, holding it between both of hers as if she was afraid I might vanish.


    ¡®You¡¯re awake. Thank God, Ashton, you¡¯re awake.¡¯


    I tried to shift, the simple act of moving my right arm sending a bolt of pain up to my shoulder. I clenched my jaw, forcing myself not to flinch. My fingers barely responded, the dull weight of them making my stomach twist.


    She must have seen it. She didn¡¯t say anything, but her grip tightened.


    ¡®How long?¡¯ I managed.


    ¡®Almost a week. You¡¯ve been in and out, fever mostly. The doctors said you needed rest.¡¯


    Her voice was soft, steady, but I caught the exhaustion in it, the edges frayed from nights spent watching over me. Guilt settled like lead in my chest. She shouldn¡¯t have been here, wasting herself on me.


    I closed my eyes for a moment, then forced them open again. ¡®Thepany.¡¯


    Mira leaned closer, her lips curving into a faint smile. ¡®LGH is safe. The moratorium¡¯s been withdrawn. Investors are calm again. You don¡¯t need to worry about it anymore.¡¯


    Safe. Withdrawn. Words I wanted to believe, but I knew the cost of such victories. Nothing in this world came without a price. And if she was the one delivering this news, that meant she had been the one paying.


    I studied her face. She looked worn, shadows under her eyes, but there was fire in her expression, a determination I recognised. She¡¯d been fighting for me. Fighting battles that should have been mine.


    ¡®What did you give up?¡¯ My voice came out rougher than I intended.


    She frowned. ¡®Why do you assume I¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Because I know you,¡¯ I cut in, sharper than I meant. ¡®You would throw yourself into fire if you thought it would help. What did you sacrifice this time, Mira? What did you risk for me?¡¯


    She shook her head. ¡®Nothing that matters. What matters is you¡¯re still here. That¡¯s all I care about.¡¯


    Her words should have soothed me, but instead they twisted the knife deeper. I turned my head away, staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the sick, hollow dread in my stomach.


    The doctors¡¯ voices echoed in my memory, half-heard through fever. Nerve damage. Limited recovery. Possible permanent loss of function.


    They hadn¡¯t said it outright, but I had enough sense to know what it meant. My right hand might never work the way it used to.


    And what use was a man who couldn¡¯t fight his own battles, who couldn¡¯t even hold a pen without trembling?


    I let out a lowugh, humourless. ¡®I may never use this hand properly again. Do you know what that means?¡¯


    Her gaze snapped to me. ¡®I don¡¯t care.¡¯


    The words were out of her mouth before I could stop her. Firm, desperate, raw.


    I turned my head, meeting her eyes sharply. She looked as if she had just bared her soul, cheeks flushed, lips pressed tight as if she regretted the outburst but wouldn¡¯t take it back.


    My chest tightened. For a heartbeat, I wanted to believe her, wanted to let the warmth of those words sink into me and banish the doubt wing at my ribs. But then the thought crept in, insidious and cold.


    She was here because she felt guilty. Because she thought she owed me. Because she didn¡¯t know any better than to throw herself into a cage and call it love.


    I couldn¡¯t let her chain herself to me out of pity.


    So I closed my mouth, retreating into silence.


    She searched my face, waiting. When I didn¡¯t speak, her shoulders sagged slightly. She smoothed the nket over me, her touch lingering at my arm.


    The door opened, doctors came in, checking charts, murmuring instructions, pressing stethoscopes to my chest. They nodded to each other, spoke to Mira more than me, then left just as briskly as they came.


    The room was quiet again. Mira hovered, eyes filled with questions I wasn¡¯t ready to answer.


    ¡®I need rest,¡¯ I said, keeping my tone even, polite, the words carefully chosen.


    Her lips parted, the faintest flicker of hurt crossing her face. She nodded slowly. ¡®Of course.¡¯


    She stood, smoothing her skirt, gathering her bag. She gave me onest look, as though hoping I¡¯d change my mind, call her back, say something to stop her.


    I didn¡¯t.


    When the door shut behind her, the silence was deafening.


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 Chapter 299 Ashton: The Choice

    <h4>Chapter 299: Chapter 299 Ashton: The Choice</h4>


    The room was too quiet without her.


    I¡¯d asked Mira to leave, told her I needed rest. The words hade out clipped, controlled, the way I always tried to sound when everything inside me was anything but steady.


    She¡¯d hesitated, then gone, and the soft click of the door behind her was sharper than any de.


    I told myself this was for the best. She deserved a life unshackled by someone half-broken, someone who might never hold her the way she deserved again. Better to push her away now than let her waste years watching me struggle.


    And yet, as Iy there staring at the empty chair, the weight in my chest grew heavier with each breath.


    The minutes dragged. My hand throbbed with a dull ache, a constant reminder of what I might have lost.


    My heart ached worse.


    I tried closing my eyes, tried drifting back into the fever fog, but sleep wouldn¡¯te. All I could think of was her face when I¡¯d turned her away. The hurt she¡¯d tried to hide, the way her eyes had lingered on me as though she wanted to fight my words but forced herself not to.


    When the door opened again, I thought I was imagining it.


    But there she was. Mira.


    She stepped inside, the faintest smile on her lips, as if she knew she was catching me in the middle of a sulk I hadn¡¯t admitted to myself.


    ¡®You didn¡¯t think I¡¯d really leave, did you?¡¯ she said softly.


    I blinked at her. ¡®You did leave.¡¯


    She lifted a small box in her hand. ¡®Only to get this.¡¯


    I pushed myself up against the pillows, my pulse picking up. ¡®What¡¯s that?¡¯


    She walked closer, her heels clicking quietly on the hospital floor, until she was right beside me. Then, to myplete shock, she sank down on one knee.


    ¡®Mira¡ªwhat are you¡ª¡¯


    She opened the box. Inside were two rings, simple yet striking, every line of them touched by her craft. My chest tightened painfully.


    ¡®Last time, you proposed to me,¡¯ she said, her eyes never leaving mine. ¡®Now it¡¯s my turn.¡¯


    For a moment, I couldn¡¯t breathe. Of all the things I had imagined in the silence of this room, this was not one of them.


    ¡®You can¡¯t be serious,¡¯ I managed.


    ¡®Deadly serious.¡¯ Her voice was steady, her hands firm as she held the box up to me.


    I swallowed hard. Part of me wanted to reach out, to pull her up, to say yes without hesitation. But the fear was still there, unrelenting.


    ¡®Mira,¡¯ I said quietly, ¡®don¡¯t do this out of pity.¡¯


    Her brows pulled together. ¡®Pity?¡¯


    ¡®You heard the doctors. There¡¯s a chance my hand won¡¯t recover. I might not be the man you thought I was. If this is your way of... of softening the blow¡ª¡¯


    She cut across me, her voice fierce. ¡®Stop. This isn¡¯t pity. It¡¯s love.¡¯


    I froze. She¡¯d never said it like that before. Not once.


    She leaned closer, her eyes burning into mine. ¡®Do you know why I fought so hard these past weeks? Why I went up against Lea, why I called in favours I didn¡¯t even know I had, why I pushed myself into circles I swore I¡¯d never step into? Because I realised something. I don¡¯t care about jewellery, or Paris, or Mira Joie, notpared to you. You are what matters. Protecting LGH wasn¡¯t about thepany, it was about protecting what you love. Because when you love someone, you protect the things they love too.¡¯


    My throat went dry.


    She went on, her voice softening. ¡®You bought Nyx Collective for me when I didn¡¯t even ask. You stood up for me at the Aureate Awards when the whole world thought I¡¯d fall on my face. You let me go to Paris even though you hated it, because you knew I needed it. All this time, Ashton, I thought jewellery was my greatest passion. But it isn¡¯t. Not anymore. You are. You¡¯re my number one.¡¯


    The words hit me with a force I wasn¡¯t ready for. For so long, I¡¯d been bracing myself for her to walk away, to realise I wasn¡¯t worth the trouble. And now here she was, kneeling with the rings she had designed with her own hands, telling me I was her priority.


    I couldn¡¯t hold the walls up any longer. They cracked, then crumbledpletely.


    ¡®Mira,¡¯ I said hoarsely.


    She lifted the ring from the box, her hand trembling only slightly. ¡®Say yes.¡¯


    For once in my life, I didn¡¯t overthink. I let myself feel.


    I held out my left hand. She slipped the ring onto my finger, her smile trembling with tears she didn¡¯t bother to hide.


    I pulled her up, ignoring the protest of my weak arm, and kissed her. Long, deep, with everything I¡¯d been holding back for months.


    When I finally broke away, I rested my forehead against hers. ¡®I¡¯ve been waiting for you to choose. And now I have my answer. I¡¯m never letting you go again.¡¯


    Sheughed through her tears, brushing her thumb along my cheek. ¡®Good. Because you don¡¯t get a say anymore. You¡¯re stuck with me.¡¯


    The weight lifted. The fear didn¡¯t vanishpletely, but it no longer ruled me. She had chosen, and that was enough.


    We stayed like that, tangled together in the stillness of the hospital room, and for once, I didn¡¯t think about thepany or the future or the hand that might never heal. I thought only of her, the woman who had turned my world upside down and then put it back together in ways I never expected.


    The woman who was mine.


    *** THE END ***

 Chapter 300 Childhood Sweetheart

    <h4>Chapter 300: Chapter 300 Childhood Sweetheart</h4>


    Five weekster


    ¡®Come to a party with me,¡¯ Ashton said.


    I rolled over in bed, still half-asleep. ¡®Nope.¡¯


    I¡¯d neglected Mira Joie long enough, and ever since he was discharged from the hospital, Ashton hadn¡¯t left my side.


    When I woke up, he was there.


    When I went to bed, he was there.


    When I went to the bathroom, he was there.


    Yes, the sex was great and I enjoyed it very much, but I wasn¡¯t a machine. I needed rest.


    Ashton prodded me again.


    ¡®You go.¡¯ I rolled to the other side. I¡¯d never liked those parties anyway, the ones filled with champagne, shallow small talk, and nothing meaningful.


    ¡®You¡¯re my wife now. If you don¡¯te with me, should I find another woman to go with? It¡¯s an important party tonight, and a date ispulsory. Do you want me to be the only one there alone, the one everyoneughs at?¡¯


    I rolled my eyes, though he couldn¡¯t see it. Who would dareugh at Mr Ashton Laurent?


    Still, he had a point. I was his wife now, and the title came with certain duties.


    Reluctantly, I rolled back to face him. ¡®Fine. But no sex tonight.¡¯


    He hesitated.


    In the end, he nodded, though his face made it clear he thought it was a monumental sacrifice.


    I was dragged downstairs, fed, then carted off to a ce where a team of stylists attacked my face and hair, spraying me with all sorts of things until I was half-asleep again. After that, I was shoved into another dressing room and asked to try on a parade of dresses, all of which looked equally elegant and equally expensive to me.


    By the time I was finished, it was past five.


    ¡®All this trouble,¡¯ I grumbled as I climbed into the car. ¡®This party had better be worth it.¡¯


    My dress was midnight blue, and Ashton¡¯s tuxedo matched.


    ¡®I¡¯m hungry,¡¯ I muttered, rubbing my stomach.


    ¡®There¡¯ll be plenty of food at the party,¡¯ he said. ¡®You don¡¯t need to mingle much. A few sses of wine, I¡¯ll talk to some people, then we go home.¡¯


    ¡®Good.¡¯


    The car took us to Rochelle, about twenty minutes outside Skyline.


    The banquet hall was already teeming with people dressed to the nines. I spotted industry leaders, a couple of big names from city hall, and someone from the mayor¡¯s office.


    ¡®Who¡¯s that with Ashton Laurent?¡¯


    ¡®His date? Girlfriend? Escort?¡¯


    ¡®Wife?¡¯


    ¡®No chance.¡¯


    The whispers started the moment we stepped inside.


    I was used to it by now. Wherever Ashton went, eyes followed.


    Me? I was the small fry. And despite his public announcement, plenty of people still didn¡¯t know he was married, or that I was the wife in question.


    Or perhaps, for some, the fact he was taken wasn¡¯t a deterrent at all.


    As Ashton passed, women checked theirpacts, reapplied lipstick, and I counted at least four who fluffed their hair.


    One woman, though, stood out.


    She was about my age, tall, statuesque, with striking blue eyes. She wore very little make-up, but her bone structure did all the work for her.


    She hadn¡¯t stopped staring at Ashton since we walked in, and when his gaze finallynded on her, surprise flickered across his face.


    The moment their eyes met, she broke into a radiant smile and glided over with the kind of grace you normally saw on the catwalk.


    ¡®Ash! It¡¯s really you!¡¯ Her voice was honey-sweet, smooth, overjoyed.


    In a few long strides, she was right in front of him, arms flung around his neck, her elbow conveniently shoving me out of the way.


    I gawped.


    I knew Ashton had admirers, but I hadn¡¯t expected to meet one quite so... brazen.


    Didn¡¯t she see me standing right here? Was I invisible?


    Ashton quickly prised her arms off him and stepped back, his face hard.


    The woman frowned, nced at me as if I were furniture, then turned back to him. ¡®Don¡¯t you remember me? I¡¯m Genevieve! Genevieve Crawford! We used to hide in the treehouse all day. Remember the treehouse? Our secret fort?¡¯


    ¡®I remember you,¡¯ Ashton said, his voice t.


    I studied her. So this was Ashton¡¯s childhood friend?


    From the way she behaved, more like childhood sweetheart.


    But childhood was a long time ago, and Ashton wasn¡¯t a fort-building boy anymore.


    I hooked my arm through his, a silent deration of ownership.


    Genevieve noticed. ¡®Oops, sorry, didn¡¯t realise you had a date.¡¯


    She didn¡¯t sound remotely sorry. The smile she tossed my way was more provocative than polite.


    ¡®Ash and I go way back,¡¯ she added, though no one had asked. ¡®We grew up together, we were inseparable.¡¯


    ¡®Yes, I gathered,¡¯ I said drily.


    ¡®We even used to share a bed for naptime.¡¯ She winked at Ashton, though the jab was aimed squarely at me. ¡®I haven¡¯t seen him in ages. That hug was pure impulse. We were close like that. Hope you don¡¯t mind.¡¯


    I made a vague sound in my throat that even I couldn¡¯t interpret.


    ¡®Anyway, Ash,¡¯ she turned back to him, apparently done with me, ¡®I didn¡¯t know you¡¯d be here. What a lovely surprise. What¡¯re you doing now? I heard you¡¯re running LGH. That¡¯s impressive. I also heard¡ª¡¯


    ¡®That he¡¯s married,¡¯ I cut in. ¡®Surely you¡¯ve heard that. He put out an announcement and everything.¡¯


    Genevieve¡¯s smile tightened. ¡®Really? I didn¡¯t know.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s fine. You know now. Back then, Ash was just a kid, and however close you were, I wouldn¡¯t hold it against you. But from now on, things are different. Ash is a married man. There are boundaries. I don¡¯t care how long you two have known each other, or how close you were, but from this moment, he is my husband. You¡¯ll need to keep your distance. After all, if you had a husband, you wouldn¡¯t want some woman throwing herself at him, friend or not, would you?¡¯


    I delivered every word with a pleasant smile and perfect poise.


    Harsh, yes.


    Rude, definitely.


    But I¡¯d rathery things out clearly than go through another Lea-style fiasco.


    Genevieve¡¯s smile vanished. ¡®You and he are... married? You¡¯re his wife?¡¯


    ¡®I thought my meaning was clear.¡¯ I lifted my hand, fingers entwined with Ashton¡¯s. ¡®Here are our rings. If I¡¯d brought the marriage certificate, I¡¯d have shown you that too.¡¯


    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and


    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 301 Past Faces

    <h4>Chapter 301: Chapter 301 Past Faces</h4>


    Genevieve looked stricken.


    She lunged for Ashton¡¯s arm.


    ¡®That¡¯s impossible! How could you be married? You¡ª¡¯


    Ashton pulled his arm free of her grasp. ¡®Yes, I¡¯m married. And my wife,¡¯ he nced at me with a smile in his eyes, ¡®is the jealous type. Best if you keep your distance.¡¯


    As if that weren¡¯t enough of a blow, he added, ¡®Miss Crawford.¡¯


    ¡®You used to call me Vivi...¡¯ Genevieve¡¯s face went pale.


    I shuddered as goosebumps prickled across my skin. I arched a brow at Ashton. Vivi, seriously?


    Genevieve¡¯s hand clenched into a fist, her long painted nails biting into her palm, though she didn¡¯t seem to notice.


    ¡®Mr Laurent!¡¯ A tuxedoed man in histe twenties strolled over with the tallest, most willowy woman I¡¯d ever seen hanging off his arm. ¡®What a pleasant surprise!¡¯


    He gave me a quick once-over. ¡®I see you¡¯ve brought a date. That¡¯s rare for you. You usually show up alone, so I even prepared a date for you. Shame to let her go to waste.¡¯


    The woman fluttered hershes right on cue.


    I scoffed inwardly. The man was dressed like a businessman but talked like a pimp.


    ¡®She¡¯s my wife,¡¯ Ashton said, his tone t.


    ¡®Wife?¡¯ The man looked at me again, more closely this time.


    ¡®Legally married,¡¯ Ashton added, as if there were any doubt.


    Repeating my earlier move, he lifted our joined hands to show the rings.


    Was he gloating?


    ¡®Oh, wow, congrattions. What a surprise.¡¯ The man managed, after faltering for half a minute. The news had clearly rattled him. ¡®I¡¯m disappointed I wasn¡¯t invited to the wedding.¡¯


    He turned to me, his smile less oily now and almost genuine. ¡®Mrs Laurent, a pleasure to meet you. I¡¯m Oscar Lindgren. Mypany does some business with your husband¡¯s.¡¯


    ¡®Nice to meet you. I¡¯m Mirabelle Vance.¡¯ I would have shaken his hand, but my right arm was still linked with Ashton¡¯s and he showed no sign of letting go.


    ¡®Mirabelle Laurent,¡¯ Ashton corrected.


    Oscar chuckled, thenunched into business talk with Ashton, while the willowy woman remainedtched to his arm like an essory. When neither man was looking, she waggled her brows at me, then rolled her eyes at the two of them.


    I smiled back. I felt the same¡ªbored out of my skull.


    Genevieve hovered on the edges of the group the entire time and showed no signs of leaving.


    When Ashton finished chatting with Oscar, he strode off so quickly, Genevieve had no chance to catch up.


    He steered me into a quiet corner out of sight. ¡®Sit. I¡¯ll get you something to eat. What do you want?¡¯


    I wanted women to stop throwing themselves at him.


    Out loud, I said, ¡®I¡¯lle with you.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re in heels.¡¯ He pressed me into the chair. ¡®I¡¯ll do it.¡¯


    Couldn¡¯t he have phrased those caring words in a less icy,manding tone? If I didn¡¯t know him better, I¡¯d have thought he was scolding me.


    I shrugged. ¡®Fine. No preference. Just nothing that drips.¡¯


    He nodded and left.


    By the time I¡¯d scrolled through my first short video, he was back with his arms full of tes. ¡®Help yourself. I need to talk to a few associates who¡¯ve just arrived.¡¯


    ¡®Go.¡¯


    ¡®Want toe with?¡¯


    ¡®Nope.¡¯


    I picked up a crostini.


    One bite in, my appetite vanished at the sound of a voice I thought I¡¯d never hear again.


    ¡®Mira.¡¯


    I set the crostini down and rose to leave.


    Rhys blocked my path, reaching for my arm.


    I was tempted to flip him over my shoulder, but this was a public setting.


    Instead, I swatted his hand away. ¡®Don¡¯t touch me.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ve missed you,¡¯ Rhys went on, as if my sharp swat hadn¡¯t happened. ¡®I went to your studio, but you were never there. Where¡¯ve you been?¡¯


    I¡¯d been working myself to the bone in Paris, betrayed and swindled by a business partner I once admired, saddled with apany teetering on bankruptcy, then stranded on a desert ind with Ashton, which made me realise I could lose my jewellery design work, but I couldn¡¯t lose Ashton. So I proposed to him.


    But none of that was any of Rhys¡¯s business.


    ¡®I¡¯m married now.¡¯ I shed my ring for the third time that evening. ¡®Stay away from me.¡¯


    Another face I¡¯d rather never see again appeared.


    ¡®Married for real? Or is this just another one of your fake contract marriages?¡¯


    Serenna Oakley, my cousin, was poured into a dress so short that another inch would¡¯ve broken decencyws.


    What on earth was she doing here?


    ¡®As real as the D-grade ten-carat solitaire diamond on my ring,¡¯ I shot back.


    I looked between her and Rhys. ¡®You two came together?¡¯


    She linked her arm with his and tilted her chin. ¡®Yeah. So what? You jealous?¡¯


    I almostughed. ¡®Jealous of what? Just keep your man on a short leash. Not everyone is as dirty-minded as you, always scheming to seduce someone else¡¯s husband. Do me a favour and rein him in. Don¡¯t let him harass me again.¡¯


    I walked away before either of them could get another word in.


    Serenna ending up with Rhys shouldn¡¯t have surprised me. She¡¯d always had a thing for him, even back when he was with Catherine.


    Now that Rhys and Catherine were divorced, maybe she thought it was her chance to pounce and bag herself a rich husband.


    What did surprise me was that she¡¯d chosen Rhys instead of Daniel. Didn¡¯t she know Rhys was practically disowned by his father, while Daniel had taken control of most of the Granger fortune?


    But that wasn¡¯t my problem.


    The party was in full swing now, the noise cranked up another two notches. Crystal clinked,ughter spilled over the band¡¯s symphony, and there was plenty of ¡®what an honour¡¯ and ¡®so d to meet you¡¯.


    The air was heavy with wine, champagne, cologne, and too much perfume.


    I followed the signs out to the yard for a breath of fresh air.


    Apparently, I wasn¡¯t the only one with that brilliant idea.


    I ducked behind a boxwood the moment I heard Genevieve¡¯s voice.


    She was talking to a man who had his back to me.


    A very broad, muscr, very familiar back.

 Chapter 302 A Closed Book

    <h4>Chapter 302: Chapter 302 A Closed Book</h4>


    ¡®Ash, tell me, why? Why on earth did you marry that woman? You told me you had no one you loved, no one you even liked, and that you would never love anyone. That¡¯s why I left, because I knew you would never love me either. But now... why? Why marry her?¡¯


    Genevieve looked as though he had betrayed her.


    I leaned against the wall, eavesdropping in in view.


    ¡®Genevieve, I don¡¯t owe you an exnation. Stop making a scene.¡¯ Ashton¡¯s tone was cold, without a trace of warmth.


    I frowned.


    If it had been any other woman, Ashton would have had her thrown out. At the very least, he wouldn¡¯t have stood there listening to her whining.


    He didn¡¯t smile at her, true, but neither did he walk away.


    ¡®I heard about her from Cassian. He told me plenty. It was a marriage of convenience, wasn¡¯t it? You only did it to get your family off your back. But now that your grandfather has passed and you¡¯ve taken full control of LGH, you don¡¯t need her anymore, do you? Why stay married? Even if you wanted to repay the favour, you didn¡¯t need to marry her. Why her?¡¯ Genevieve¡¯s voice broke as she spoke, tears sliding gracefully down her foundationed cheek.


    Ashton stayed silent.


    I knew he wasn¡¯t a man who wasted words on exnations. But I wanted him to exin this time¡ªthat he hadn¡¯t married me out of gratitude, that what began as a sham marriage was no longer false.


    ¡®Ash, my ankle, I think I twisted it, it hurts so much...¡¯ Genevieve suddenly stumbled forward, copsing against him.


    I saw her fling herself into his arms, and that was enough. I turned and walked away.


    I didn¡¯t need to stay to know he would push her aside without hesitation.


    After a slowp around the garden, the chill finally drove me back indoors.


    As I stepped into the banquet hall, I almost ran straight into Ashton. His face was set, cold and stormy, as if something weighed heavily on his mind.


    Was it Genevieve¡¯s tears that unsettled him? Was that why he looked so grim?


    ¡®Where did you go? I told you not to wander off.¡¯ Ashton¡¯s eyes flicked to mine, his voice cool and reproachful.


    ¡®And since when do you get to police me?¡¯ My temper red at once. The sight of him outside with Genevieve in his arms was still fresh in my mind, and now he dared to scold me?


    Ashton must have noticed something off in my tone. He caught my hand, his voice softening. ¡®What¡¯s wrong? You sound upset.¡¯


    His change of tone cooled my anger. ¡®I ran into a creep and didn¡¯t want him following me, so I went outside for a walk.¡¯


    It was meant as a hint. I¡¯d gone outside. I¡¯d seen him with Genevieve. Surely, a man as shrewd as Ashton could read between the lines and offer me an exnation.


    ¡®Don¡¯t wander off again. What if you got lost?¡¯ His eyes were gentler now, no trace of censure left.


    But still, he said nothing about Genevieve.


    ¡®And you? Where did you go just now?¡¯ I tilted my head, my eyes meeting his.


    ¡®I saw you¡¯d vanished, so I went looking for you,¡¯ he said.


    So that was it. He wasn¡¯t going to admit anything. I had given him the chance, and he had chosen silence.


    That was his problem, not mine.


    ¡®Go do what you need to do. I¡¯m going to find something to eat.¡¯ I turned towards the buffet table.


    I had barely reached the buffet when a waiter, bncing a tray of drinks, collided with me. The entire tray went over me, soaking my dress and sticking to my skin in an ufortable, mmy mess.


    ¡®I¡¯m so sorry! I¡¯m so sorry, I¡¯m so sorry...¡¯ The waiter¡¯s face turned pale as he stammered apology after apology.


    ¡®What happened?¡¯ Ashton strode towards us.


    ¡®It¡¯s nothing. He didn¡¯t mean it, he just bumped into me. Spilled wine, that¡¯s all.¡¯ I tried to soothe both of them. ¡®No harm done. Go on, get back to work. Just be more careful next time.¡¯


    The waiter looked close to tears. ¡®Yes, yes, I will. Thank you... I¡¯m really sorry.¡¯


    ¡®What¡¯s going on here?¡¯ Genevieve¡¯s voice cut across the moment as she walked up.


    My brows drew together. I didn¡¯t like this woman, but I stered on a polite smile. ¡®Nothing.¡¯


    ¡®But your dress is soaked. You must be ufortable. Why don¡¯t I take you upstairs to change? I brought two gowns, and we¡¯re about the same size. You can wear one of mine if you don¡¯t mind.¡¯ Genevieve smiled warmly, all generosity.


    ¡®What happened?¡¯ Cassian joined us. ¡®Mira¡¯s dress is ruined. She should change.¡¯


    Ashton nodded. ¡®I¡¯ll take you to the lounge upstairs.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll take her,¡¯ Genevieve cut in quickly. ¡®Someone¡¯s waiting to talk to you, and besides, it¡¯s easier with another woman.¡¯ She was already on the phone, instructing someone to fetch the dress from her car.


    ¡®Go on, I¡¯ll handle it. She¡¯s your wife, which makes her family,¡¯ Genevieve said with a harmless smile.


    ¡®Let Genevieve go with her,¡¯ Cassian said. ¡®There¡¯s someone I want you to meet.¡¯


    ¡®What, you don¡¯t trust me? Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ve no interest in women,¡¯ Genevieve quipped.


    ¡®Thanks, but I have another dress in the car,¡¯ I said smoothly.


    Whatever game she was ying, whether or not she had put that waiter up to it, I couldn¡¯t be bothered to care.


    But I wasn¡¯t about to put on her clothes, nor let her get anywhere near me.


    ¡®I¡¯lle with you,¡¯ Ashton said.


    ¡®Nah, I think I can handle a simple change of clothes.¡¯

 Chapter 303 (Almost) Caught in the Act

    <h4>Chapter 303: Chapter 303 (Almost) Caught in the Act</h4>


    I went upstairs to a suite reserved for the party guests, after grabbing a change of clothes from one of Ashton¡¯s men who had fetched it from the car.


    The red wine had dried sticky on my skin, mmy and unpleasant.


    I tossed the ruined dress over a chair along with my purse, then headed into the shower.


    Minutester, I came out, dressed, grabbed my purse, and immediately felt something was off.


    I¡¯d left it dangling from the back of the chair, caught on the strap. Now it was neatly resting on the seat.


    Who touched my purse?


    I nced at the closed door. Who hade in while I was in the shower?


    I checked inside. Everything was still there: phone, wallet,pact, lipstick.


    I unlocked my phone. Two messages had been sent while I was in the shower.


    [Me]: I need to talk to you. Come see me in Suite 302. Come alone.


    [Me]: You were right. My marriage to Ashton was a mistake. I did it to piss you off because you chose Catherine over me. But now that you and she are no longer together, I... Juste. We need to talk.


    Both were sent to Rhys Granger.


    ¡®Fuck,¡¯ I muttered, a word I almost never used.


    How did they get into my phone? Passcode? Or had they lifted my fingerprint from a ss?


    No reply yet, but toote to retract the messages.


    I called Ashton. ¡®You got a moment? Can youe up to the suite?¡¯


    He caught the tone in my voice. ¡®I¡¯ll be there in a minute.¡¯


    I paced. Would he believe me if I said his childhood sweetheart was setting me up?


    Only two people at this party hated me enough, and were shameless enough, to pull something like this. Serenna, desperate to hook Rhys, wouldn¡¯t sabotage herself.


    That left Genevieve.


    But what proof did I have?


    When Ashton walked in, I looked him over from head to toe and shook my head. ¡®Maybe I should¡¯ve married someone less hot.¡¯


    He frowned. ¡®What are you talking about? What¡¯s wrong?¡¯


    I touched his freshly shaven cheek, then, as a petty revenge, pinched it.


    He winced but didn¡¯t pull away.


    ¡®Why do you attract women like moths to a me?¡¯ I sighed. ¡®Rowan Hale, Lea, and now Genevieve. When will they stop drooling over you and realise you¡¯re taken?¡¯


    He caught on immediately. ¡®What has she done?¡¯


    ¡®Disimer first¡ªI have no evidence.¡¯


    ¡®Just tell me.¡¯


    ¡®I keep my distance from other men because I¡¯m married to you. But will you do the same and refuse every woman who throws herself at you? Because the thought of you with Genevieve earlier still stings.¡¯


    ¡®Of course.¡¯


    ¡®Remember that.¡¯


    My phone pinged.


    I checked the message, then made sure the front door wasn¡¯t fully shut but left ajar. ¡®Come with me.¡¯


    I led Ashton into the bathroom. He followed with questions in his eyes.


    ¡®Just wait a couple of minutes. You¡¯ll see.¡¯


    He stayed silent, watching.


    Soon, the front door swung open. Rhys walked in with a spring in his step.


    ¡®Mira! I knew it. I knew you only married Ashton to get back at me. I¡¯ll never hold it against you. As long as you¡¯re willing to leave him ande back to me, I¡¯ll love you like before. It¡¯s not serious with Serenna. I feel nothing for her. She¡¯s the one chasing me.¡¯ His voice was breathless with excitement.


    He checked the bedroom first, then came towards the bathroom and knocked softly. ¡®Mira, are you in there?¡¯


    Ashton looked at me.


    ¡®Just wait,¡¯ I whispered.


    The front door banged open again, much louder this time.


    ¡®Oh my God, there really is a man in here.¡¯


    ¡®And it¡¯s not Ashton.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m sure I just saw Ashton¡¯s date go into this suite.¡¯


    ¡®Where is she then?¡¯


    ¡®Shameless. She must be hiding from us.¡¯


    ¡®Mirabelle, you¡¯re my cousin!¡¯ Serenna cried, her voice breaking with well-rehearsed tears. ¡®You broke up with Rhys first. How could you try to seduce him now?¡¯


    ¡®Serenna, what are you doing here?¡¯ Rhys¡¯s tone was tight with annoyance.


    ¡®What am I doing here? If I hadn¡¯te, you two would already be rolling around in bed.¡¯


    ¡®Stop talking nonsense,¡¯ Rhys snapped.


    ¡®Mirabelle,e out! Hiding in there won¡¯t solve anything. Get out here and exin yourself!¡¯ Serenna hammered on the bathroom door.


    I stayed quiet. There was still one more actor who hadn¡¯t taken the stage.


    ¡®Come out! Or are you too ashamed?¡¯ Serenna¡¯s voice climbed to a shrill pitch.


    Ashton nudged me.


    I shook my head. ¡®Wait. There¡¯s one more yer.¡¯


    ¡®Genevieve?¡¯


    ¡®Bulls-eye. But she¡¯s smarter than Serenna. Probably won¡¯t show.¡¯ I felt a flicker of disappointment.


    Ashton¡¯s phone vibrated. He nced at the screen, then his expression darkened. He angled the phone for me to see.


    [Genevieve]: Ash, where r u? Been looking everywhere for u. Ur wife¡¯s in suite 302 with her ex. Thought u should know.


    I smiled. A moment ago I¡¯d been worried I had no proof to tie this mess to Genevieve. But she¡¯d gone and confessed without even realising it.


    I met Ashton¡¯s eyes.


    He nodded.


    I gave a little shrug and patted his shoulder. ¡®Maybe tone down the charm a bit. It was amusing watching women twist themselves into knots trying to get close to you, but now it¡¯s just exhausting.¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s expression stayed grim.


    ¡®Mirabelle,e the hell out, you bitch! Or I¡¯ll smash this door down, I swear I will!¡¯ Serenna was still shrieking. ¡®You can¡¯t hide in there forever!¡¯


    ¡®Serenna, enough!¡¯ Rhys barked.


    ¡®Time to make our entrance,¡¯ I said to Ashton.


    When I pulled open the bathroom door, I felt at least a dozen eyes lock on me.


    ¡®There she is!¡¯


    ¡®Who¡¯s that behind her?¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s her date!¡¯


    ¡®What? How...¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s appearance silenced the entire room.


    I smiled at Serenna.


    Bet you didn¡¯t see thating, did you?


    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and


    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 304 A Botched Setup

    <h4>Chapter 304: Chapter 304 A Botched Setup</h4>


    ¡®What the hell is going on?¡¯


    Confused whispers rippled through the crowd who had barged into the room uninvited.


    ¡®How... what... no, that¡¯s... that¡¯s not possible.¡¯ Serenna blinked rapidly, as if the scene might vanish if she did it often enough. ¡®He... you... you and Rhys... you two came here together. You texted him. You wanted...¡¯


    ¡®How do you know I texted him?¡¯ I said. ¡®Even I didn¡¯t know that. Did Rhys tell you?¡¯


    ¡®I didn¡¯t!¡¯ Rhys denied instantly.


    ¡®Then how did you know?¡¯ I kept my eyes fixed on Serenna.


    Over her shoulder, I caught sight of someone hovering in the doorway.


    Genevieve stood there with her phone raised, as if about to take a photo, but froze mid-act.


    Her eyes swept over the scene, her brain clearly stuttering when she realised the script had gone off track.


    The moment she spotted Ashton, she snapped back to her senses and shoved her phone away.


    ¡®I... I just saw it,¡¯ Serenna muttered, clinging to her story.


    ¡®Saw it from where?¡¯ I demanded.


    ¡®Someone sent it to me. A screenshot. I...¡¯ She pulled out her phone. ¡®I didn¡¯t make it up. You sent that message!¡¯


    She thrust her phone at the onlookers. ¡®See? I didn¡¯t make it up.¡¯


    ¡®Who sent it to you?¡¯ I pressed.


    Serenna backed into a chair and nearly tripped. Her eyes darted frantically before she jabbed a finger like a drowning woman grabbing at driftwood. ¡®It was Rhys! He said he¡¯d never betray me, so he sent me your text to prove it.¡¯


    ¡®Rhys? Really?¡¯ I gave a coldugh and turned to him.


    He shook his head furiously, looking as lost as the rest of them. ¡®I didn¡¯t.¡¯


    ¡®Show me.¡¯ I held out my hand.


    Serenna hesitated.


    ¡®What? If it¡¯s real, why would you be afraid to show me?¡¯ I taunted.


    She shoved the phone at me, trying to sound fierce but clearly rattled. ¡®Why should I be the one afraid? You¡¯re the one trying to seduce my man.¡¯


    I looked at the image. It wasn¡¯t a screenshot. It was a photo of my screen, taken with another phone.


    Idiot. That was exactly what Genevieve¡¯s re at Serenna seemed to say.


    I found myself agreeing with her for once.


    ¡®You¡¯re sure Rhys sent this to you?¡¯ I asked again, herding her further into a corner.


    ¡®Yes.¡¯ Serenna had no choice but to cling to her shaky excuse.


    I checked the sender. It was an unknown number.


    I handed the phone to Ashton.


    ¡®Look at the top corner,¡¯ I pointed out. ¡®That¡¯s a woman¡¯s hand.¡¯


    ¡®Red nail polish,¡¯ he said, his voice sinking several degrees colder.


    I lifted both of my hands for everyone to see. ¡®Clear polish.¡¯


    Ashton tossed the phone back. Serenna scrambled to catch it.


    ¡®Genevieve, your nails are red,¡¯ Ashton said pointedly, his gaze hard on his childhood friend¡ªsoon to be ex-friend, if I had anything to say about it.


    Genevieve quickly hid her hands behind her back, which was as good as a confession.


    She bit her lip. ¡®I... it wasn¡¯t me.¡¯


    ¡®So what if she took the photo?¡¯ Serenna jumped in, desperate to fling the mud back at me. ¡®Doesn¡¯t change the fact you sent the text. You tried to seduce my boyfriend.¡¯


    ¡®You lie so easily, who can tell which part of your story is true and which isn¡¯t?¡¯ Ashton¡¯s voice was ice.


    ¡®What proof do you have that I sent the text?¡¯ I shot back.


    ¡®It was your phone!¡¯ Serenna insisted.


    ¡®Anyone with my passcode or fingerprint can unlock it. And if I remember right¡¯¡ªI fixed Genevieve with a hard stare¡ª¡®you were right there when the waiter bumped into me. You took my ss from my hand. I thought you were being helpful. But now...¡¯ I scoffed. ¡®You really think a clumsy little text is enough to prove I¡¯d cheat on Ashton? Look at Rhys, then look at my husband. I¡¯m not blind. Why would I throw away a man like Ashton for someone like him?¡¯


    I rounded on Serenna. ¡®And don¡¯t start with that rubbish about me still having feelings for Rhys. I was stupid when I dated him, but I¡¯m not stupid enough to repeat the mistake.¡¯


    I advanced on her step by step, and the more I closed the distance, the more she faltered. Her eyes widened, panic flickering across her face, and she stumbled back.


    ¡®I told you before, keep your man in check and stop him pestering me.¡¯ I shoved Serenna hard.


    ¡®Check the security cameras,¡¯ Ashton said suddenly.


    I blinked in surprise. Cameras? After all this back-and-forth, we could have just pulled the footage from the start?


    ¡®But I thought the hotel switched them off for tonight¡¯s party,¡¯ I said.


    ¡®That¡¯s only the banquet hall and the first two floors,¡¯ Ashton said.


    We were on the third.


    ¡®Ha. Let¡¯s see you deny it now.¡¯ I allowed myself a smug nce at Serenna and Genevieve.


    ¡®Genevieve,¡¯ Ashton said, his eyes hard as steel, ¡®admit what you did and apologise sincerely. If not, I¡¯ll make sure the Crawford family disappears from Skyline.¡¯

 Chapter 305 A New Acquaintance

    <h4>Chapter 305: Chapter 305 A New Acquaintance</h4>


    ¡®I... no, please, don¡¯t.¡¯


    Unlike Serenna, Genevieve knew Ashton well enough to realise he wasn¡¯t bluffing. He never made empty threats.


    ¡®I... fine, I did it, all right? I...¡¯ She shot me a resentful nce. ¡®I sneaked into the suite when Mirabelle was in the bathroom. I sent the text to Rhys.¡¯


    Serenna gaped at her, stunned that her partner in crime had folded so easily. ¡®They¡¯ve got no proof!¡¯


    ¡®There¡¯s a camera in the hallway,¡¯ I added helpfully. ¡®We can pull the footage and see exactly who came in here.¡¯


    Ashton didn¡¯t say a word. His eyes stayed locked on Genevieve.


    She dropped her head. ¡®I¡¯m sorry. I made a mistake.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not the one you should apologise to,¡¯ he said.


    Genevieve bit her lip and looked at me through dampshes. ¡®Mirabelle, I¡¯m sorry. I was jealous of you and I did something I shouldn¡¯t have.¡¯


    ¡®And you,¡¯ Ashton turned to Serenna.


    She stuttered out a half-hearted apology.


    ¡®Good enough?¡¯ he asked me.


    ¡®Good enough.¡¯ I shrugged and linked my arm through his. ¡®Let¡¯s go.¡¯


    After that farce, I wasn¡¯t in the mood to hang around. I asked, ¡®When can we leave?¡¯


    ¡®Bored already?¡¯ Ashton gave me a look.


    ¡®Yeah.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll speak to a couple more associates, then we can go.¡¯


    ¡®Fine. Then you go, I¡¯ll stay in the lounge.¡¯


    He led me to a sitting area on the second floor. The balcony overlooked the grand banquet hall below. ¡®Stay where I can see you.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not five. I can take care of myself,¡¯ I said.


    ¡®Humour me.¡¯


    I did.


    Before he left, he checked again. ¡®Don¡¯t wander off. If you need to go anywhere, let me know.¡¯


    ¡®Including the loo?¡¯ I teased.


    He didn¡¯t find it funny.


    ¡®Just kidding.¡¯ I reached up and smoothed the frown line between his brows. ¡®Go. Do what you need to do. Come find me when you¡¯re done.¡¯


    He gave me onest searching look, then walked away.


    I poured myself a ss of orange juice and sank into a deep, plush armchair, watching the dancing, chatting, perfectly dressed crowd below. Everyone was smiling, just at different levels of fake.


    Using my phone, I zoomed in on the jewellery they were wearing. The women¡¯s pieces were varied, expensive, and predictably from the usual luxury brands. I rarely designed for men, but watching this roomful of the country¡¯s business and political elite sparked new ideas.


    ¡®Excuse me, is this seat taken?¡¯


    I nced up from my jewellery app to see a pleasant-looking woman around my age.


    She pointed at the chair next to me. They were the best seats in the lounge, with the best view.


    ¡®No, please, sit,¡¯ I said.


    She lowered herself with some effort, and that was when I noticed the curve of her belly under a loose dress.


    Catching my look, she smiled. ¡®Twelve weeks along. I¡¯d have stayed home, but my husband dragged me here.¡¯


    I sympathised. ¡®Same here.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m Naomi Fenty.¡¯ She held out a hand.


    I shook it. ¡®Mirabelle Vance.¡¯ Then, remembering what had happened earlier, I corrected myself. ¡®Mirabelle Laurent.¡¯


    Naomi¡¯s smile softened in understanding. ¡®Newlywed?¡¯


    ¡®Sort of.¡¯ The full story was tooplicated for party small talk.


    ¡®Laurent, as in LGH?¡¯ she asked, polite enough not to push further.


    ¡®Yes, that¡¯s my husband. Ashton Laurent.¡¯ Pride crept into my voice as I said it.


    ¡®What a lovely coincidence.¡¯ Her smile, warm from the start, grew even brighter. ¡®My husband came tonight hoping to meet him.¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s earlier briefing about the guest list came back to me. ¡®Fenty, as in the Meridian Trust?¡¯


    Naomi nodded.


    If LGH was famous for its vast scale, global reach, and knack for having a finger in every profitable pie, the Meridian Trust was its shadowy counterpart.


    It was renowned for being low-key, even mysterious. Everyone had heard of it, but almost no one could say what it actually did.


    On paper, it was a holdingpany with a tangle of subsidiaries, but even the sharpest investigators struggled to pin down what each one did.


    I remembered hearing Dominic exin that Ryan Fenty, Meridian¡¯s nominal owner, was widely believed to be fronting for a group of politicians.


    And I knew Ashton wanted to build ties with Ryan Fenty as a way to reach the people behind him.


    With that in mind, I summoned what little political savvy I had and struck up a conversation with Naomi.


    For a woman married to a supposedly shrewd figurehead who preferred to stay in the shadows, she was surprisingly easy to talk to.


    When she discovered I designed jewellery, her friendliness notched up again. Soon we were happily immersed in a lively debate about Van Cleef¡¯s Alhambra collection, forgetting all about our husbands.


    Naomi¡¯s phone pinged.


    She nced at the message and gave me an apologetic shrug. ¡®Time to go. The party downstairs is wrapping up.¡¯


    I stood and helped her up.


    We were heading towards the wide, winding staircase when I spotted Serenna descending from the third floor.


    Her eyes were red and puffy.


    I ignored her and kept walking.


    The thick carpet muffled our steps, but I still heard the quick click of her heelsing straight towards me.


    I tensed at once.

 Chapter 306 Tired Old Trick

    <h4>Chapter 306: Chapter 306 Tired Old Trick</h4>


    When the shove came, I wasn¡¯t surprised.


    What did surprise me was how ridiculously strong Serenna was.


    Had she been working out?


    That stray, irrelevant thought flickered through my head as I dodged at thest moment.


    Off bnce, her arm swung past me and struck Naomi instead.


    Naomi stumbled. Her upper body pitched forward and she would have gone tumbling down the stairs if I hadn¡¯t caught her elbow in time.


    Shaken but quick to recover, she straightened with my help, her face drained of colour.


    ¡®You all right?¡¯ My pulse had kicked up a notch too.


    She was pregnant, after all.


    What would have been nothing more than a bruise for me could have been a disaster for her.


    ¡®I...¡¯ Her voice rasped dry in her throat.


    ¡®Naomi!¡¯ A man in a ck tuxedo bounded up the stairs three at a time and was at her side in seconds. He held her shoulders, scanning her anxiously. ¡®Are you all right?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m fine.¡¯ She finally found her voice, breathing out a shaky sigh. ¡®I thought I was going to fall. I was terrified for a second.¡¯


    The man, presumably her husband, wrapped her in a fierce hug. ¡®You¡¯re safe now. But we¡¯ll go to the hospital just in case.¡¯


    ¡®All right.¡¯ She nodded.


    ¡®Ow!¡¯ Serenna yelped as I caught a fistful of her long hair when she tried to slip away.


    ¡®Where do you think you¡¯re going?¡¯ I hauled her back.


    ¡®Let go! What are you doing?¡¯ She iled at my arm, but I didn¡¯t loosen my grip.


    ¡®What¡¯s going on?¡¯ Ryan Fenty kept his focus on Naomi, but the question was aimed at me.


    ¡®She pushed me,¡¯ Naomi muttered to her husband, ring at Serenna.


    Serenna opened her mouth, but I cut in first. ¡®Before you spin another story, don¡¯t forget the cameras.¡¯ I pointed to the CCTV in the corner of the ceiling, its red light blinking steadily. ¡®Too bad for you, the party¡¯s over and the cameras are back on.¡¯


    Serenna¡¯s mouth opened and shut like a stranded fish. Atst she folded. ¡®I... my heel... I twisted my ankle and stumbled into Mrs Fenty by ident. It was an ident, really. I¡¯m sorry.¡¯ She leaned hard on the word ¡®ident¡¯ as if saying it enough times would make it true.


    ¡®Really? Did you also ¡°identally¡± trail us down the stairs, ¡°identally¡± aim for me, and then ¡°identally¡± knock into Mrs Fenty when you missed?¡¯ I scoffed.


    ¡®That¡¯s not true!¡¯ Her protest was pitiful.


    ¡®I think it is,¡¯ Naomi said firmly. She looked at me. ¡®She tried to push you first. When she missed, she hit me.¡¯


    I gave Naomi an apologetic look. ¡®She was aiming for me. I¡¯m sorry you got dragged into it.¡¯


    Naomi shook her head. ¡®You¡¯re not the one who should apologise. You¡¯re the victim here too.¡¯


    Ryan Fenty¡¯s lips curved into a cold, unsettling smile, edged with menace. ¡®Youid hands on my wife?¡¯


    He eased Naomi to a safe spot. Then, climbing two steps above Serenna, his voice turned icy. ¡®I¡¯m a fair man. I repay kindness with kindness, grudges with grudges.¡¯


    He ended the sentence with a sharp kick to her shin.


    Serenna shrieked as she flew down the stairs.


    The staircase was broad and winding, with bannisters that slowed her fall, but she still took a hard tumble, her cries changing pitch with every bounce.


    Ryan Fenty stayed at the top, expressionless.


    At the bottom, Serennay curled on thending, clutching her stomach.


    ¡®You all right?¡¯ Ashton stepped past her without a nce and came straight to me, scanning me from head to toe.


    ¡®I¡¯m fine.¡¯ I forced a smile. ¡®Let¡¯s go.¡¯


    He took my hand.


    ¡®Wait.¡¯


    I turned. Naomi, steady on her feet with Ryan Fenty close behind, came down the stairs. ¡®Thank you. If not for you, I¡¯d be the one lying there.¡¯ She threw Serenna a pale look.


    ¡®It¡¯s nothing,¡¯ I said, offering a reassuring smile I didn¡¯t feel.


    Ryan Fenty¡¯s ruthless retaliation had shaken me more than I cared to admit. Instinctively, I wanted to put as much distance between myself and that dangerous man as possible.


    Yes, Serenna deserved it. Probably. Still, part of me couldn¡¯t help wondering... if Naomi had gone down with me, even if it might well be an ident, would he have kicked me too?


    Naomi and I exchanged goodbyes and promised to keep in touch. Then I left with Ashton.


    ¡®I didn¡¯t know you knew Ryan Fenty¡¯s wife,¡¯ he said.


    ¡®I didn¡¯t, not until tonight. She said her husband¡¯s been trying to meet you.¡¯


    ¡®He has. We spoke for a while this evening.¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s...¡¯ I stopped myself from saying ¡®dangerous¡¯. That felt too blunt. ¡®Rather unforgiving.¡¯


    Ashton had a different take. ¡®If it had been you pushed down those stairs, I¡¯d have done the same.¡¯


    I was still chewing on that when we got home. He went straight to the study to deal with business, while I showered and climbed into bed.


    By the time he joined me, I was half asleep.


    He stretched out and pulled me against him.


    ¡®Mira.¡¯ His voice was husky, restrained.


    I could feel the heat in his body, the tension in his muscles, the sharp edge of his breath. Every part of him told me he wanted me.


    So why wasn¡¯t he doing anything?


    I shifted against him, murmuring softly, ¡®Ash.¡¯


    I moved again, and this time he almost lost it. His voice came out hoarse. ¡®Don¡¯t. Stay still.¡¯


    I could feel his want trying to poke its way through his pyjama bottoms. Yet even as desire burned through him, he held back.


    Since leaving hospital, he¡¯d been insatiable, practically glued to me like a conjoined twin.


    So why the sudden restraint tonight?

 Chapter 307 Bad Mood

    <h4>Chapter 307: Chapter 307 Bad Mood</h4>


    ¡®Are you tired?¡¯ I asked.


    He made a sound that could have meant yes or no.


    ¡®Too tired to have sex with your wife?¡¯ I teased.


    ¡®You want it?¡¯ He rolled over suddenly, bracing himself above me, eyes fixed on mine.


    ¡®Why wouldn¡¯t I?¡¯


    ¡®But you said you needed a break.¡¯


    ¡®When did I say that?¡¯ I feigned amnesia.


    ¡®This morning. At 9.15. When you kicked me out of bed.¡¯


    ¡®You remember the exact time? What, have you been keeping notes?¡¯


    ¡®Hmm.¡¯ He wasn¡¯t easily sidetracked. ¡®So, yes or no?¡¯


    ¡®If I say no, would you really just go to sleep and not touch me?¡¯


    ¡®I respect your wishes,¡¯ his mouth said. His eyes and hands said something else entirely.


    ¡®That doesn¡¯t sound like you,¡¯ I teased, looping my arms round his neck and pulling him closer. ¡®Let¡¯s try something different tonight.¡¯


    The nightstand buzzed.


    Ashton swore under his breath, pulled back, grabbed his phone and answered. ¡®This had better be urgent.¡¯


    It must have been, because he swung out of bed at once. ¡®I¡¯ll be there right away,¡¯ he said, hanging up.


    I watched him get dressed. ¡®Who was it?¡¯


    ¡®A business associate.¡¯ He leaned down to kiss me. ¡®I might bete. Don¡¯t wait up.¡¯


    Business associate?


    I stared at the door as it clicked shut behind him.


    Why didn¡¯t he give me a name?


    And was it my imagination, or had I heard a woman¡¯s voice on the phone?


    I meant to wait up, but sleep won.


    Half in a dream, I felt warmth wrap around me. Cracking one eye open, I caught Ashton¡¯s stubbled face.


    ¡®Go to sleep,¡¯ he murmured.


    I¡¯d wanted to ask about this urgent midnight business, but sleep dragged me under.


    The rm woke me.


    Eyes shut, I groped for my phone on the nightstand.


    Ashton reached over and silenced it.


    ¡®Whattimeizit?¡¯ I mumbled.


    ¡®Still early. Sleep.¡¯


    And I did.


    When I woke again, his side of the bed was cold.


    I grabbed my phone. Past nine thirty.


    Damn, that was beyondte.


    If I weren¡¯t my own boss, I¡¯d have fired myself.


    I rushed through teeth, face, clothes, then dashed downstairs.


    Ashton sat at the breakfast table. ¡®Morning.¡¯


    ¡®You should¡¯ve woken me,¡¯ Iined. ¡®I¡¯ve got to get to the studio early today.¡¯


    ¡®You can take the day off. You¡¯re the boss.¡¯ He pulled out a chair for me. ¡®Sit. Eat first.¡¯


    He watched while I ate.


    The longer he watched, the more my irritation simmered.


    Ten hours since that call. He¡¯d left in the middle of the night, right when we were about to get down to business, and now he still hadn¡¯t offered a single exnation.


    I didn¡¯t want to be the kind of wife who checked her husband¡¯s whereabouts by the minute. But when your husband walked out on you at midnight, didn¡¯t give a name, and skipped the exnation altogether, surely you were entitled to a little curiosity.


    If it had been Dominic, or any assistant, he would have said so without hesitation.


    So who was it?


    Maybe he wasn¡¯t hiding anything. Maybe he¡¯d forgotten. Maybe he just didn¡¯t think it important enough to exin.


    I knew if I asked, he¡¯d answer.


    But what if I asked, and he still refused?


    I stabbed at my eggs with my fork, thoughts tangling worse with every bite.


    Morning, pre-coffee, was not the time for this kind of heavy thinking.


    I forced down another mouthful, waiting for Ashton to say something first.


    He didn¡¯t.


    When the painfully long breakfast was over, I shoved my chair back and stood.


    ¡®I¡¯ll drive you,¡¯ he said, standing too.


    ¡®No, it¡¯s fine. I¡¯ve got my car. The studio¡¯s nowhere near your office anyway.¡¯


    ¡®I can drop you first. It¡¯s not much of a detour.¡¯


    ¡®No. I wouldn¡¯t want you to waste time, not when yourpany¡¯s so busy you¡¯re taking calls in the middle of the night.¡¯ I thought the hint was obvious.


    He let it slide.


    I left, got into my car and drove. I felt oddly deted, though I couldn¡¯t quite say why.


    I drove aimlessly until a new mall came into view, one that had openedst month.


    In this mood, I wasn¡¯t going to get much work done anyway, so I circled back. The mall had to have a jewellery shop or two, and I needed the distraction.


    I walked into Verris & Co.


    ¡®Can I see this one?¡¯ I asked the woman behind the counter, pointing to a bracelet with an unusual sp.


    ¡®Of course.¡¯ She opened the case, took it out, and was about to hand it over when someone snatched it first.


    ¡®I¡¯ll take this.¡¯


    I turned.


    The woman with the grabby hands had pink hair and enough jewellery on her to stock her own shop.


    I¡¯d never seen her before.


    But the woman who walked in after her told me exactly what was going on.

 Chapter 308 Hands Off, It’s Mine

    <h4>Chapter 308: Chapter 308 Hands Off, It¡¯s Mine</h4>


    ¡®Sorry, this is the only one left. Some of our designs onlye in a handful of pieces, they¡¯re limited edition. This bracelet happens to be the veryst one. If you really want it, I can have another shipped from a different branch,¡¯ the sales assistant exined.


    ¡®I want this one,¡¯ Pink Hair said with a touch of arrogance.


    I flicked a nce at Genevieve, who shot me a look full of mockery. She¡¯d clearly put her friend up to this.


    My bad mood, which had started at breakfast, sank even lower.


    I hadn¡¯t even wanted to buy the bracelet, only to take a look at it. But now, there was no way I was leaving without it, if only to wipe the smug look off a certain someone¡¯s face.


    ¡®Excuse me, I saw this first. There¡¯s such a thing as firste, first served, isn¡¯t there?¡¯ I reached out, meaning to take it back.


    Pink Hair clenched the bracelet tight in her fist, refusing to let go. ¡®Hmph. There¡¯s never been anything I wanted that I couldn¡¯t get.¡¯


    ¡®And there¡¯s never been anything I set my eyes on that I¡¯d hand over to someone else. I¡¯m having it,¡¯ I said coolly, then turned to the sales assistant. ¡®Please wrap it up for me.¡¯


    ¡®Of course.¡¯ The assistant nodded, then gave Pink Hair an apologetic smile. ¡®I¡¯m sorry, miss, but this piece has already been sold. If you¡¯d like, I can call another branch and have one sent over. It¡¯ll only take a few hours. Or if you leave your address, we can deliver it straight to your door.¡¯


    ¡®I said I want this one. I¡¯m not letting it go,¡¯ Pink Hair shot back, clutching the bracelet tighter.


    The assistant nced at me as if about to mediate, but I cut in before she could speak. ¡®Not happening. Once I¡¯ve chosen something, it¡¯s mine. No one takes it from me.¡¯


    At that point, Genevieve finally wandered over. ¡®Mirabelle, isn¡¯t it? What a coincidence.¡¯


    I gave her a frosty look. ¡®It¡¯s Mrs Laurent to you.¡¯


    ¡®Vivi, isn¡¯t this bracelet gorgeous? The colour looks perfect on you. It¡¯d be wasted on someone else. I¡¯m giving this to you,¡¯ Pink Hair said smugly, cutting me a sidelong nce.


    Something in her tone told me she wasn¡¯t just talking about jewellery.


    Stealing what¡¯s mine to give to Genevieve?


    ¡®In case you missed basic etiquette at nursery, not everything is yours to snatch. I saw this bracelet first. Firste, first served. It¡¯s mine,¡¯ I said, then turned back to the sales assistant. ¡®Sort it out. This bracelet is mine.¡¯


    The poor assistant looked helpless, her brows knitted tight as she nced between us, clearly unsure what to do.


    ¡®Firste, first served?¡¯ Genevieve¡¯s voice rose, her face hardening. ¡®Don¡¯t make meugh. I¡¯ve known Ash since we were children. And who are you? Some nobody who popped up halfway through. You think you understand what firste, first served means?¡¯


    ¡®So what if you knew him first? He doesn¡¯t love you. He didn¡¯t marry you. What use is that?¡¯ I smiled, eyes glittering with triumph.


    Genevieve¡¯s teeth ground together, her fists clenched. ¡®That bracelet is mine. And so is Ashton. One day, I¡¯ll take him from you.¡¯


    ¡®Really? I¡¯d love to see how you manage it. You couldn¡¯t get him to marry you when he was single. Now that he¡¯s my husband, I can¡¯t wait to see how you n to steal him away.¡¯


    Genevieve¡¯s eyes shed. ¡®Just watch. I¡¯ll make sure you see it with your own eyes. If I can snatch this bracelet, I can snatch Ashton too.¡¯ She turned to Pink Hair. ¡®Go on, pay for it.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t you dare.¡¯ I fixed the sales assistant with a cold stare. ¡®I saw that bracelet first. It¡¯s mine. If you sell it to her, you¡¯ll deal with the consequences.¡¯


    Genevieve gave a short, mockingugh. ¡®I¡¯d love to see you stop me. Let¡¯s see how you n to snatch it back from me.¡¯ She then snapped at the sales assistant, ¡®Well? What are you waiting for? Ring it up.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m so sorry, but...¡¯ the assistant hesitated.


    ¡®Save it,¡¯ Genevieve cut her off. ¡®You¡¯ll see soon enough.¡¯


    She pulled out her phone, made a call, and when she hung up, her lips curled in triumph. She looked me up and down with contempt. ¡®I¡¯ve called in a favour. The owner of this shop is on his way. If I want, he¡¯ll hand this bracelet to me as a gift, never mind selling it. And you? I know all about you. A dead convict for a father, a penniless mother. What have you got to fight me with? What can you possibly use topete with me?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re right. My family can¡¯tpete with yours. But I¡¯ve got Ashton.¡¯ I smiled sweetly and pulled out my phone. Right in front of Genevieve, I dialled his number and used my sweetest voice. ¡®Hi, Ash. I¡¯m at the mall, thinking of buying a bracelet, and I need you here.¡¯


    ¡®Where are you? I¡¯ll be right there.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll send you my location.¡¯ I looked at Genevieve with open delight.


    Petty, yes. But I¡¯d been itching for a way to vent, and she¡¯d walked right into it.


    For a moment, she looked almost rattled, as if she couldn¡¯t quite believe Ashton would actuallye.


    ¡®Ten minutes. I¡¯m on my way,¡¯ Ashton said, and hung up.


    I sent him my location. His reply came back at once: [Got it].


    I tilted my head, smiling at Genevieve with wide-eyed innocence. ¡®See, Genevieve? You¡¯re not the only one with connections.¡¯


    She scoffed. ¡®Do you honestly think he¡¯lle running? He runs a massivepany. He¡¯s probably in a meeting right now. Do you really believe he¡¯ll drop everything, leave a room full of executives, just to sort out a little shopping spat for you?¡¯


    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and


    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 309 His Billionaire-Dollar Gift

    <h4>Chapter 309: Chapter 309 His Billionaire-Dor Gift</h4>


    ¡®Let¡¯s wait and see,¡¯ I said, giving her a smug little smile. ¡®You really don¡¯t know him at all.¡¯


    Genevieve gritted her teeth. ¡®Well, I¡¯ll be waiting then,¡¯ she said. She simply couldn¡¯t believe Ashton actually cared this much about me.


    Her tone then changed, turning into a condescending attack. ¡®Mirabelle, I don¡¯t get what you¡¯re thinking. What¡¯s the point of marrying a man who doesn¡¯t love you?¡¯


    My face waspletely nk. ¡®And how exactly do you know he doesn¡¯t love me? If he doesn¡¯t, then why did he marry me? Do you think he loves you? If he did, why didn¡¯t he marry you instead? And don¡¯t give me that line about him being forced. Do you really think Ashton is the kind of man who lets people push him around?¡¯


    Genevieve wasn¡¯t about to give up. ¡®You know how loyal he is, don¡¯t you? You know the real reason he married you better than I do, surely? He only married you because you helped hispany get through that crisis.¡¯ She was desperate to get a rise out of me.


    ¡®Are you delusional? Did he tell you that himself?¡¯


    ¡®Yes, he told me himself,¡¯ Genevieve insisted, though her voicecked conviction.


    I scoffed. ¡®Oh, please. You really think I¡¯ll believe a word you¡¯re saying? I¡¯m not falling for your tricks, so don¡¯t even bother trying. I¡¯m telling you now, I¡¯m never going to divorce him. The only way we¡¯ll split is if he decides he doesn¡¯t want me, so you should focus your efforts on him instead.¡¯


    I wanted to see what this so-called childhood sweetheart of Ashton¡¯s would do, and how he would deal with her.


    <fna4ce> For more chapters visit F¦ÉndNovel</fna4ce>


    I also needed to know what was really going through his mind.


    When Ashton dealt with women he disliked, like Rowan Hale and Lea, he could be ruthless, cutting them off without a second thought and using his power to suppress them.


    But Genevieve had made her intentions clear from the moment she first appeared, and yet, even though he¡¯d threatened to make her family disappear from Skyline, she was still here, with enough free time to go shopping.


    I wanted to know what made Genevieve different in his eyes.


    ¡®Fine then, just you wait,¡¯ Genevieve said, full of misced confidence. ¡®Don¡¯te crying to meter.¡¯


    I just looked at her, sneering. ¡®I have no idea where you get that confidence from.¡¯


    Pink Hair whispered something to Genevieve, then gave me a cold re.


    Ashton arrived with his assistant. It wasn¡¯t Dominic, but another man I didn¡¯t recognise.


    ¡®You came.¡¯ I knew he would. All the anger I had felt towards him this morning seemed to vanish as soon as I saw him.


    Ashton nodded, his eyes soft as he looked at me.


    ¡®Ash, what are you doing here?¡¯ Genevieve asked, clutching her fists as she slowly walked over to him. Her face was pale. ¡®Aren¡¯t you supposed to be busy?¡¯


    ¡®My wife¡¯s business is more important,¡¯ Ashton said tly. ¡®What¡¯s all this about?¡¯


    ¡®I was looking at that bracelet over there,¡¯ I said, pointing towards Pink Hair. ¡®And that woman snatched it from me. I saw it first, so why should she just get to take it? I have to have that bracelet.¡¯


    ¡®You like it?¡¯ Ashton asked, ncing at the bracelet clutched in Pink Hair¡¯s hand.


    ¡®Not really, not at first,¡¯ I admitted. ¡®But since she wants to fight me for it, I¡¯m not going to let her have it.¡¯


    Ashton turned to his assistant. ¡®Harry, how¡¯s it going?¡¯


    The assistant, who looked a bit like a professor and had a Bluetooth earpiece in his ear, replied, ¡®Just reached out to their corporate headquarters. A sale is possible.¡¯


    ¡®Good. Go ahead and handle it,¡¯ Ashton instructed. ¡®When the sale concludes, transfer ownership to my wife.¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s voice wasn¡¯t loud, but it carried an authority that everyone in the shop could hear. They all stared at him, their faces full of shock.


    ¡®Oh my god...¡¯


    ¡®What the...?¡¯


    ¡®Did he just say he¡¯s buying the entire shop?¡¯


    ¡®Who is this guy?¡¯


    Everyone looked at Ashton in disbelief, especially Genevieve. Her eyebrows were knitted together and her face was sheet white as she walked over to him. ¡®Ash, are you insane? You want to buy Verris & Co? And everything in it?¡¯


    ¡®Is there a problem with that?¡¯ Ashton asked, his own eyebrows tightening in a cold expression.


    ¡®Is there a problem? Don¡¯t you know how much money that¡¯s going to cost?¡¯ Genevieve must have thought he¡¯d lost his mind. ¡®Verris & Co. is a huge chain. You want to buy all of it?¡¯


    ¡®Does it matter?¡¯


    ¡®Of course it matters! That¡¯s going to be hundreds of millions! Your money doesn¡¯t fall from a tree, you know. You worked hard for it. You... you¡¯re going to spend all that for this woman?¡¯


    ¡®Genevieve, that¡¯s my business.¡¯


    The look on his face was enough to silence Genevieve. Whatever she was about to say died on her lips.


    She rounded on me. ¡®Are you just going to let him do this? Do you have any idea how hard he works? He works himself into the ground, pulling all-nighters, skipping meals, and now he¡¯s probably got stomach problems and God knows what else. And for what? So you can just throw his money away?¡¯

 Chapter 310 Car Chase

    <h4>Chapter 310: Chapter 310 Car Chase</h4>


    I wasn¡¯t about to take that from her. ¡®If not me, who else is my husband supposed to spend his money on? You? I¡¯d advise you to stay out of our business. This is a private matter, so stop meddling.¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s action had surprised me too, but I wasn¡¯t going to back down in front of Genevieve.


    I turned to Ashton and whispered, ¡®Honestly, there¡¯s no need for all this. I... I don¡¯t need this much jewellery.¡¯


    I had no idea how much buying Verris & Co would cost, but I knew LVMH had spent a staggering $16 billion to acquire Tiffany & Co., and Verris wasn¡¯t that much smaller.


    ¡®What? Are you worried about my money?¡¯ Ashton asked, his voice as calm as ever.


    ¡®Yeah, you work so hard, you shouldn¡¯t be spending it like this,¡¯ I said, feeling a little guilty. ¡®How much is everything in this shop going to cost? Hundreds of millions? I don¡¯t even need it. Let¡¯s just forget about it. Just buy me the bracelet instead.¡¯


    I felt I had been a bit too impulsive. Just to win an argument, I had called Ashton, who was probably in the middle of an important meeting, only for him to buy an entire shop for me. When had I turned into a spoiled wife?


    ¡®I want everyone to know that if my wife likes something, she gets it, no matter the cost,¡¯ Ashton said.


    When he saw me still frowning, his voice softened. ¡®A few hundred million is nothing. All that matters is that you¡¯re happy.¡¯


    Genevieve just stared, dumbfounded.


    ¡®I¡¯m happy, it¡¯s just...¡¯ What wife wouldn¡¯t be happy? He was spoiling me rotten.


    ¡®There are no ¡°justs¡±,¡¯ Ashton cut me off. ¡®As long as you¡¯re happy, it¡¯s worth every penny.¡¯


    Soon after, Harry finished his call. He turned to Ashton and said, ¡®I¡¯ve contacted the LGH legal and mergers and acquisitions team, and I¡¯ve also reached out to the store¡¯s owner. They¡¯ll be here shortly.¡¯


    ¡®Get the transfer done as soon as possible,¡¯ Ashton told him.


    ¡®Yes, boss,¡¯ Harry replied with a nod.


    I knew Ashton¡¯s people worked fast, but I was still stunned when, before the end of the day, I held a transfer agreement in my hands. Verris & Co had been bought by Ashton for 200 million and transferred into my name.


    <fn096a> Content originallyes from Find~Novel</fn096a>


    ¡®Now this store is yours,¡¯ Ashton said.


    ¡®I... I can¡¯t believe this,¡¯ I stammered. ¡®But I already have Mira & Joie.¡¯


    ¡®Which is a studio specialising in bespoke orders,¡¯ Ashton exined. ¡®You can keep this one as a retailer of ready-made pieces. You¡¯ll get a broader customer base here.¡¯


    I was speechless. I had no idea Ashton had thought everything through for me. This wasn¡¯t just a spur-of-the-moment decision, and it wasn¡¯t simply a gift for fun.


    The next day, I drove to the shop. Now that it was mine, I wanted to see how I could make the best use of it so I wouldn¡¯t waste Ashton¡¯s efforts.


    The store was open, and I spotted two familiar figures I never thought I would see there again.


    I walked towards Pink Hair. She had slunk away quietly with Genevieve yesterday after realising Ashton was serious about buying the entire store.


    What was she doing back here? Was she checking to see if Ashton had been bluffing?


    As I approached, Pink Hair started to look uneasy. She nervously chewed on her bottom lip as she watched me.


    I ignored her and turned to Genevieve, giving her a small smirk. ¡®What¡¯s mine will never be yours, no matter how hard you try to steal it.¡¯


    She just bit her lip and said nothing.


    ***


    I left the mall in a much better mood.


    ¡®Where to next?¡¯ Kit asked as I climbed into the car. Ashton had put him on chauffeur duty despite my protests that I could drive myself.


    I gave him the address of an OEM factory on the outskirts of town. Priya thought they might be able to handle our custom orders, but I wanted to inspect their work in person. With a new shop under my name, there was so much more I could do. It was time to think about expanding production.


    Head down, I scrolled through my tablet as Kit drove smoothly.


    Suddenly, something bumped the car, and I jolted forward, held in ce only by the seatbelt.


    I knit my brows. ¡®What was that?¡¯


    ¡®That car seems to be following us,¡¯ Kit said, his face going grim. He checked the rear-view. ¡®Do you recognise it?¡¯


    I twisted in my seat and looked back. A ck Toyota Camry trailed us, tes I did not recognise. The driver wore a baseball cap and I only caught a brief, partial glimpse of his face.


    ¡®I don¡¯t,¡¯ I said.


    A second impact hit us, harder this time, and my stomach dropped. I had a bad, crawling feeling.


    Kit stamped on the elerator to put distance between us and the Camry. ¡®It¡¯sing at us. I can¡¯t shake them off,¡¯ he said, his voice tight as he watched the pursuer in the mirror. He was sweating, his hands trembling slightly on the wheel.


    Who would be doing this? Could it be Genevieve? She wouldn¡¯t be bold enough to try something like this, would she?


    I fumbled for my phone. Just as I was about to dial the police, I changed my mind and pressed the first speed-dial number.


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 Chapter 311 Gunman

    <h4>Chapter 311: Chapter 311 Gunman</h4>


    ¡®Mira?¡¯ Ashton answered on the first ring.


    ¡®Someone¡¯s been tailing us and they¡¯ve just hit our car. Twice now,¡¯ I said, trying to steady my voice.


    <fn82be> Read full story at find(?)ovel</fn82be>


    ¡®Send me your location,¡¯ Ashton ordered, his tone going grim.


    I shared my location with him at once.


    The Camry struck us again, with such force that I gasped and shouted, ¡®Faster!¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m going as fast as I can,¡¯ Kit said, hands shaking. ¡®Any faster and we risk flipping.¡¯


    ¡®Head for somewhere with people,¡¯ Ashton said through the line. ¡®Get to a crowded area.¡¯


    I ryed the instruction to Kit. He mmed the elerator harder, but we were on a quiet stretch and the Camry had a clear run. We were originally heading out of town, and to turn back towards civilisation would take time we did not have.


    The Camry struck us two more times in rapid session. I lurched up in my seat and banged my head on the ceiling, stars exploding behind my eyes, a sharp, panicked pain.


    ¡®Mira, what¡¯s happening? Are you all right?¡¯ Ashton asked, his voice urgent.


    ¡®I¡¯m fine... just knocked my head, a bit dizzy,¡¯ I managed, rubbing the throb at my forehead.


    Bang! Bang! Bang!


    Were those gunshots?


    I had never fired a gun in my life, though TV had taught me enough to recognise the sound. Btedly, I regretted not taking Ashton up on his offer to teach me to shoot, but there was no time for regrets.


    Kit had floored the elerator and the engine was screaming.


    ¡®They¡¯ve got a gun, they¡¯ve opened fire,¡¯ I shouted into the phone.


    Before I finished, Kit swore.


    ¡®What?¡¯ I cried.


    From the driver¡¯s seat he hollered back, ¡®They must¡¯ve hit the tank! We¡¯re leaking fuel. The car¡¯s slowing!¡¯


    ¡®Damn it!¡¯


    Another jolt mmed my forehead into the back of the seat. It didn¡¯t break the skin, but my head spun and pain red.


    Kit wrestled with the wheel and the car swerved to the right. ¡®Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t let anything happen to you,¡¯ he shouted, and at that moment we were struck hard again.


    We were losing speed.


    ¡®I think the car¡¯s busted. I¡¯m going to pull into the car park, then we get out and run, understand?¡¯ Kit said, flinging his door open as he spoke.


    I nodded.


    ¡®We¡¯ll take the service paths. Their car won¡¯t be able to follow us in,¡¯ he added.


    I was grateful for those boxing lessons in high school and for keeping fit. If I hadn¡¯t, I wouldn¡¯t have been able to keep pace with him.


    ¡®Car park ahead!¡¯ Kit yelled. It was the only sizeable structure nearby where we might hide.


    I gritted my teeth and pushed myself to keep up. I heard the Camry¡¯s engine cut out as it pulled up, but I knew the shooter would not be far behind.


    We dashed across a patch of grass and a shortcut, then ran into the multi-storey car park. Our footsteps echoed ridiculously loudly in the cavernous space, where cars sat covered in dust sheets. Kit kept up a hard pace until he ducked us behind a massive concrete column, with nothing but a wall behind us.


    My throat felt like sand, my legs had gone to jelly, and I copsed onto the cold floor, sitting down hard. Kit dropped down beside me, breathing heavily.


    ¡®Shh, someone¡¯sing,¡¯ he whispered.


    My heart mmed. ¡®The Camry?¡¯ I whispered back.


    ¡®Not sure,¡¯ Kit said, swallowing hard.


    I hauled myself forward on my backside, peered out, and exhaled. ¡®It¡¯s not them.¡¯


    Kit let out a small, shaky breath.


    Time dragged. We slowly caught our breath and the adrenaline began to ebb, restoring a little strength.


    Another car arrived, and from the screech of its tyres it wasing fast.


    My nerves tightened. Kit craned his head out, saw the car and said, excitedly, ¡®It¡¯s Mr Laurent¡¯s car!¡¯


    I stuck my head out and immediately recognised Ashton¡¯s Rolls-Royce. I had kept him on the line throughout, sending live updates of our location, but I waited until the car stopped and Ashton stepped out before I revealed myself.


    ¡®Ashton!¡¯ I cried, jumping up and running to him.


    He quickened his pace and sprinted towards me. For a split second, his expression changed; his eyes widened with rm and he threw his arms out. Instead of pulling me into him, those arms shoved me back.


    Bang.


    A shot. The gunfire cracked across the space and my ears rang. Time stretched as I watched a fine red spray bloom from his body.


    Ashton made a strangled sound, his knees buckled and he went down.


    ¡®Ashton!¡¯ I screamed.


    Kit leapt up, half-carrying, half-dragging Ashton back to the Rolls and yelling, ¡®Get in, get in!¡¯


    ¡®Hospital!¡¯ I sobbed, tears falling onto Ashton¡¯s face as I cradled him in myp.


    ¡®I¡¯m fine,¡¯ Ashton said, pale as paper. He forced his hand up and wiped my tears away, lips moving with effort. ¡®I¡¯m fine.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t talk. Save your strength,¡¯ I urged, voice shaking. I felt him struggling to breathe. ¡®Rest now. We¡¯ll get you to the hospital.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t cry. It¡¯s okay. I¡¯ll be fine,¡¯ Ashton kept saying, trying to soothe me. ¡®I won¡¯t let anyone hurt you.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯ll be okay,¡¯ I told him. ¡®Lean on me. Hold on to me.¡¯ I pulled him closer, hoping the contact would ease the pain.


    ¡®Call Harry. Tell him... I¡¯m shot. He¡¯ll know what... to do,¡¯ Ashton said, reaching slowly for his phone and passing it to me.


    I took the phone with hands sticky with blood. ¡®What¡¯s the passcode?¡¯

 Chapter 312 Surgery

    <h4>Chapter 312: Chapter 312 Surgery</h4>


    ¡®Your birthday,st four digits,¡¯ he managed.


    Hearing that made my throat tighten. He¡¯d used my birthday as the code.


    The call connected and Harry answered on the first ring. ¡®Boss?¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s me, Mirabelle. Ashton¡¯s been shot. He¡¯s bleeding badly. Get the hospital ready for surgery, now! We¡¯re on our way.¡¯


    <fn507b> Follow current nov?ls on Find[?]ovel</fn507b>


    ¡®I¡¯ve got it,¡¯ Harry replied instantly.


    ¡®Kit, can you go any faster?¡¯ I yelled.


    ¡®I¡¯m trying,¡¯ Kit called back, hands white on the wheel.


    We reached the hospital in what felt like the blink of an eye. Harry was already waiting at the entrance, and a team of doctors and nurses stood ready inside.


    They rushed Ashton into the operating theatre. I paced outside the door, a tight ball of nerves.


    ¡®Mrs Laurent, would you like to sit down?¡¯ Harry asked, hovering at my side. ¡®The operation will take a while.¡¯


    I shook my head. ¡®I can¡¯t sit.¡¯


    If I did, everything that had happened in thest hour would catch up with me and I¡¯d either scream or cry or faint.


    ¡®If you copse, who will look after the boss? He¡¯ll be worried if you¡¯re down,¡¯ Harry tried again. ¡®I¡¯ve got four bodyguards posted here and staff outside, it¡¯s safe.¡¯


    He was right, but that did nothing to calm me.


    We waited, and waited. Atst, the theatre light went out and a surgeon came through the door. I rushed forward and gripped him. ¡®Doctor, how is he? How is he?¡¯


    ¡®Mr Laurent is going to be all right. We removed the bullet and the bleeding has stopped. He¡¯s through the critical period. He¡¯s fit and strong, and with proper rest, he should recover quickly.¡¯


    ¡®Really? He¡¯s really all right?¡¯ I pressed, refusing to let him go. ¡®Doctor, he will be all right, won¡¯t he?¡¯


    The surgeon smiled behind his mask. ¡®Essentially, yes. You can be reassured.¡¯


    Relief unclenched me like a physical thing. I drew a huge, trembling breath and felt my knees go weak. I almost copsed.


    A nurse caught me at once. ¡®Are you all right?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m fine, just a bit tired,¡¯ I lied with an embarrassed halfugh.


    ¡®Mrs Laurent, you should have a quick check-up. Boss will want to know you¡¯re all right,¡¯ Harry urged.


    ¡®I¡¯m fine,¡¯ I protested. I genuinely felt fine, or I wanted to feel fine.


    ¡®No, please,¡¯ Harry said more firmly. ¡®Do a simple check now. If Mr Laurent wakes up and finds you like this, he¡¯ll insist on a full examination and it will be more troubleter.¡¯


    He had a point, so I nodded. ¡®Okay. All right. Doc, could you arrange a quick check-up? I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll be fine.¡¯


    The nurse led me away. The doctors found nothing wrong beyond shock. Rest and sleep, they said, and I¡¯d be fine.


    After the check, I insisted on staying with Ashton even though he was still under the effects of anaesthesia. I did not leave his bedside, not for a second. I watched him without blinking, as if one moment away would be the moment he vanished.


    Barely two months out, he was once again back in the hospital. It was fast bing one of my least favourite ces on earth.


    By then, there were already several bodyguards posted outside his room. At some point, the police arrived and spoke to Kit first.


    ¡®Sorry, I held them off as long as I could,¡¯ Harry said to me when the officers came inside.


    ¡®That¡¯s fine,¡¯ I said, refusing to leave Ashton¡¯s side.


    If the police wanted to question me, they could do it here. There was nothing more I could add to Kit¡¯s ount anyway.


    The officers told us they had found the Camry, but the tes had been stolen and they had yet to trace the car¡¯s origin.


    ¡®Thank you for your cooperation, Mrs Laurent,¡¯ the lead officer said politely as he closed his tablet.


    ¡®Shall I see them out?¡¯ Harry offered.


    I turned and saw Ashton blinking awake. ¡®How are you feeling?¡¯ I asked, rushing to him.


    He reached for my hand and gripped it lightly, his voice rough and lips dry. ¡®You cried. Your eyes are red.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah. I would be superhuman if I didn¡¯t cry a bit after being shot at. I was terrified,¡¯ I admitted.


    I am not usually a crier, but seeing Ashton covered in blood had terrified me. Tears came whether I wanted them to or not.


    Ashton sighed and pulled me close, holding me and patting my back as if tofort me. ¡®You wouldn¡¯t have been involved in this if not for me,¡¯ he murmured, sounding guilty. ¡®I put you in danger.¡¯


    ¡®No, you don¡¯t know that,¡¯ I said firmly. ¡®The police haven¡¯t figured out who¡¯s behind this yet.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ve failed to protect you.¡¯


    ¡®No. You did fine. I¡¯m upset because you were hurt. Promise me you¡¯ll be careful from now on, please?¡¯ I clung to him, my voice breaking.


    ¡®I promise,¡¯ he said, stroking my hair, his voice hoarse but tender.


    I let go and looked at the bandage around his abdomen, which was still seeping a little. I touched a trembling hand to the dressing. ¡®It must hurt.¡¯


    ¡®Not at all,¡¯ he lied, taking my hand and gripping it hard. ¡®Not at all.¡¯


    ¡®This should have been me.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯d rather it be me,¡¯ he said it with conviction.


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 Chapter 313 One Crisis After Another

    <h4>Chapter 313: Chapter 313 One Crisis After Another</h4>


    That evening, some of Ashton¡¯s friends arrived, including Cassian Langford and... Genevieve.


    I red at Cassian. He touched his nose sheepishly. ¡®Her parents called my parents, who called me. What was I supposed to do?¡¯


    You could have ignored the call, I wanted to say. Or stood your ground and refused to bring her.


    Genevieve barreled into the ward and flung herself at Ashton¡¯s bedside, sobbing. ¡®Ash, are you all right? How did this happen? Who did this? Oh my God, I¡¯m so scared!¡¯


    I watched her with a sour expression. Why didn¡¯t Ashton push her away? The sight stung.


    ¡®Ash, you¡¯re always so careful. Who could have hurt you like this?¡¯ Genevieve said through her tears, all concern and theatrical distress.


    ¡®Enough. Leave me alone, I¡¯m fine.¡¯ Ashton frowned and gently shoved her back.


    Reluctantly, Genevieve released him, dabbed at her eyes, and turned to me with an apologetic look. ¡®I¡¯m sorry, Mirabelle. I lost control. I know you don¡¯t like it when Ash and I get close, but we grew up together¡ª¡¯


    ¡®The patient needs rest. You can all leave now.¡¯ I kept my voice t.


    ¡®All right, we¡¯ll go. Call me if you need anything,¡¯ Cassian chirped.


    Genevieve, however, had no intention of leaving. ¡®I¡¯ll stay and help. Mirabelle is young and untrained, she can¡¯t possibly look after Ash on her own.¡¯


    I felt my temper re, but I said nothing. I wanted to see what Ashton would do.


    ¡®Enough fuss. Come on, let¡¯s go.¡¯ Cassian hauled Genevieve up.


    She struggled, but she wasn¡¯t as strong as him and he dragged her away.


    After they left, the mood between Ashton and me shifted. It had been fine before, but now my chest felt tight and heavy.


    <fn07a1> Official source is find(?)ovel</fn07a1>


    ¡®Are you mad?¡¯ Ashton asked.


    ¡®Why would I be?¡¯ I met his eyes.


    ¡®Good. Do you want something to eat?¡¯ Ashton offered.


    ¡®Don¡¯t change the subject.¡¯ I red. ¡®You must know Genevieve likes you. She practically wears her heart on her sleeve.¡¯


    ¡®So? She¡¯s just a friend.¡¯ Ashton corrected after a beat, ¡®An acquaintance, really.¡¯


    ¡®An acquaintance who throws herself at you, who cries as if she¡¯s the one bleeding,¡¯ I said sourly.


    A corner of Ashton¡¯s mouth twitched. ¡®Are you jealous?¡¯


    I wanted to fling something at him to wipe that smug smile off his face. Lacking a suitable object, I tried words instead. ¡®If you ever get bored with me, just say so. I promise the divorce won¡¯t be messy.¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s face fell. ¡®Mirabelle, do you want a divorce?¡¯


    I shrugged. ¡®I¡¯m only saying it in case you change your mind one day. There are plenty of women queuing up. Who knows if you might fancy a change?¡¯


    ¡®Are you regretting it? Regretting marrying me?¡¯ Ashton suddenly grabbed my wrist hard, twisting until I cried out in pain.


    ¡®Ow... let go, that hurts.¡¯ I shouted. ¡®Ashton, let go, it hurts.¡¯


    ¡®What? You want me to let go? You promised to marry me, you are my wife, and you will be mine for life. You want me to let go? That¡¯s impossible.¡¯ His teeth were clenched and his grip tightened as if he wanted to crush my hand.


    ¡®It hurts... let go...¡¯ My voice shook.


    He realised he¡¯d gone too far and let go at once. I breathed out, but my wrist was already red and would bruise.


    I red at him. He looked away, then held out his right hand.


    ¡®What now?¡¯ I snapped.


    ¡®Return the favour,¡¯ he said. ¡®An eye for an eye.¡¯


    I rolled my eyes. ¡®I¡¯m not a child. Besides, I don¡¯t want to be known as the cold-hearted woman who beats up her husband straight after he¡¯s been in surgery for a gunshot wound.¡¯


    I was still furious; I had zero tolerance for being struck.


    Thest time a man hadid a hand on me, I broke off our engagement and smashed a bottle over his head, and that was Rhys.


    But Ashton...


    I forced myself to look at his bandage and bit back the retort.


    He was usually soposed, buttely, he¡¯d been slipping into moods I barely recognised. Calm and suave one moment, grim and dangerous the next whenever the idea of divorce came up.


    It was like Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, only the trigger was the D-word.


    At that moment, Harry returned with some food.


    And disappointing news.


    ¡®Mr Laurent, I¡¯ve already put people on it, but there are no leads yet,¡¯ Harry said, his brow creased as he looked at Ashton. ¡®The people who attacked you today are mercenaries from out of the country. We can¡¯t trace them.¡¯


    Ashton nodded.


    ¡®Eat first,¡¯ he said, ncing at me.


    I picked up my fork, but my mind was somewhere else, looping over the gunman and the driver in the baseball cap.


    Who were they? Why were they after me, or was it Ashton they wanted?


    I hadn¡¯t missed the quick look Harry gave Ashton when he thought I wasn¡¯t watching.


    Harry clearly knew more than he had told me, but why keep it from me?


    My thoughts were interrupted by the phone. I answered. ¡®Hello?¡¯


    ¡®Mira, it¡¯s a disaster,e to the studio right now!¡¯ Priya¡¯s voice was panicked. ¡®One of our clients has called and she¡¯s furious. There¡¯s a problem with the design we sent. I can¡¯t exin everything on the phone, juste now.¡¯


    ¡®What do you mean?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®I can¡¯t exin it clearly over the phone.¡¯ Priya sounded out of breath. ¡®The client is threatening to sue. She says it¡¯s more than just money, she¡¯s calling this a breach and ims we¡¯ve caused her to miss an important event. It¡¯s serious. Please, Mira, hurry.¡¯


    She was on the verge of tears. I felt my stomach drop.


    ¡®Okay, I¡¯ming,¡¯ I said, setting down my fork and looking at Ashton.


    ¡®The studio?¡¯ he asked.


    ¡®Yes. It¡¯s urgent. I have to go.¡¯ I hesitated. ¡®Will you be all right here?¡¯

 Chapter 314 Huge Screw-up

    <h4>Chapter 314: Chapter 314 Huge Screw-up</h4>


    ¡®Why wouldn¡¯t I be? Go. Let Harry drive you and take a couple of guards, just in case.¡¯


    ¡®No. Harry should stay with you. I¡¯ll take Kit.¡¯


    When I reached Mira Joie, Priya was waiting at the door. She let out a huge sigh of relief.


    ¡®Thank God you¡¯re here. The client¡¯s upstairs in the conference room, and she¡¯s furious.¡¯


    ¡®Which client?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®It¡¯s Mrs Mitchell,¡¯ Priya whispered, ncing towards the stairs. ¡®She says we gave her all the wrong sizes.¡¯


    I frowned.


    I remembered Penelope Mitchell. She¡¯de through a string of referrals, one leading to another, and ced a generous order for a diamond parure: a ne, earrings, a bracelet, a bangle, a ring, a brooch, and even a tiara.


    ¡®What does she mean, wrong sizes?¡¯ I pressed.


    ¡®That¡¯s what baffled me,¡¯ Priya said. ¡®She ims every measurement is wrong, not what she sent us. The ne is too long, the earrings are too heavy and make her ears ache, and she¡¯s got a whole list of otherints.¡¯


    I shook my head. ¡®Impossible. How could something like this happen? I¡¯ve worked in this business for years and never once made such a basic mistake.¡¯


    Every piece from Mira Joie was bespoke. There was always a fitting before casting, and clients signed off on the final designs, measurements included, before production. How could the sizes possibly be wrong?


    ¡®No way. Maybe the factory mixed it up,¡¯ I muttered. I refused to believe I could have made such an amateur error.


    ¡®I don¡¯t know,¡¯ Priya said. ¡®All I know is she¡¯s livid and threatening to st us online. She wants a refund, an apology, and God knows what else. I tried calming her down, but she won¡¯t hear it.¡¯


    <fn75aa> Checktest chapters at find?novel</fn75aa>


    ¡®I¡¯ll talk to her,¡¯ I said, though unease prickled at me.


    When we stepped into the conference room, Penelope Mitchell¡¯s icy hostility was immediate. She didn¡¯t rise to greet me, didn¡¯t even acknowledge my hello.


    Her re could have cut ss. ¡®What sort of shoddy outfit are you running? How could you make such a stupid mistake?¡¯


    ¡®Mrs Mitchell, I¡¯m sorry the order isn¡¯t what you expected. I¡¯m just as confused about the discrepancy in the measurements¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t give me excuses!¡¯ she snapped, cutting me off.


    She shoved a jewellery box across the table. ¡®See for yourself. The ne is far longer than what I asked for, the tiara¡¯s too tight, and the rest is just as bad.¡¯ She shoved a sheet of paper at me. ¡®And look here. That¡¯s your signature.¡¯


    ¡®I...¡¯ I could hardly believe it.


    ¡®Look for yourself.¡¯ Penelope downed a ss of water, still fuming.


    I lifted the box. Even at a nce, she was right. The pieces were all the wrong sizes. They matched the figures on the job sheet, but those weren¡¯t the ones Penelope had approved.


    ¡®And before you try ming me,¡¯ she said, her voice imcable, ¡®the job sheet your staff sent originally had the correct measurements. That¡¯s the one I signed. I never signed off on this version. I don¡¯t know whether it was your staff or your factory that bungled it, but it¡¯s uneptable. I needed this set for an important event, and it was toote to rece it. I had to buy something off the shelf!¡¯


    I held the job sheet in my hands. It bore her signature, my own, and the studio¡¯s seal. Everything looked authentic, yet everything was wrong.


    How could this be? Something was definitely off.


    ¡®Whatever you say now is meaningless,¡¯ Penelope spat. ¡®I don¡¯t care how it happened. What I know is that your studio is at fault. You¡¯ll bear the loss.¡¯


    ¡®Mrs Mitchell,¡¯ I said carefully, ¡®Ipletely understand your anger. Yes, something went wrong. It looks as if we¡¯ve made a mistake, and of course we¡¯ll reimburse you in full.¡¯


    ¡®Not enough,¡¯ she shot back. ¡®You made me lose face at the event. You¡¯ll pay damages. I¡¯m suing, and I¡¯ll tell everyone I know to steer clear of your studio. I trusted you on a friend¡¯s rmendation. I saw the pieces she bought and thought you were reliable. Clearly, you only did a good job then to reel in more business, and I was the fool who got palmed off with garbage.¡¯


    She stood abruptly. ¡®Mywyer will contact you about payment and redress.¡¯


    Without another word, she swept out.


    Priya crept in after she¡¯d gone. ¡®What do we do, Mirabelle?¡¯


    My brows knitted tight. ¡®We¡¯ll pay. Whatever went wrong, we didn¡¯t deliver what she ordered, and we have to take responsibility.¡¯


    Priya winced. ¡®That¡¯ll cost us a fortune.¡¯


    ¡®It doesn¡¯t matter. It¡¯s what we have to do. But I also need to know what happened. Let¡¯s check the archived job sheet on theputer.¡¯


    Priya hurried me to her workstation and pulled up the saved file. The measurements there were wrong too.


    Impossible. Had someone tampered with the database?


    ¡®Do you think someone¡¯s framing us?¡¯ Priya asked.


    I shook my head. ¡®I don¡¯t know. Let¡¯s check the surveince footage. Maybe whoever meddled with theputer forgot about the cameras.¡¯


    Though deep down, I doubted it. Whoever did this was no amateur. The job sheet was probably altered remotely. Priya¡¯sputer might have been hacked.


    She nodded. ¡®I¡¯ll get on it.¡¯

 Chapter 315 Damages

    <h4>Chapter 315: Chapter 315 Damages</h4>


    As expected, the past month¡¯s footage showed nothing unusual.


    It was no surprise, yet I still felt a stab of disappointment.


    Priya broke down. ¡®I¡¯m sorry, Mira. I was the one who handled the job sheet, but I don¡¯t know how it was switched. I don¡¯t know where this forgery came from. I... I¡¯m so sorry.¡¯


    She clung to me, crying helplessly.


    I handed her a tissue. ¡®Don¡¯t panic. And don¡¯t cry. That won¡¯t solve anything, and I don¡¯t me you for this.¡¯


    I knew she was afraid I¡¯d make her bear the damages. Penelope¡¯s order was huge, all bespoke, using rare stones. If Priya had to pay, she¡¯d have to sell a kidney or two.


    After I reassured her several times that she wouldn¡¯t be liable, she calmed down and her tears ebbed.


    ¡®We¡¯ll get to the bottom of this,¡¯ I told her.


    She nodded, though doubt clouded her eyes. ¡®But how will we find out who did this? Who would even want to hurt us?¡¯


    I had no answers. Not yet. Too much had happened in forty-eight hours: my car rammed on the road, Ashton shot, and now this sabotage.


    ¡®Go home and rest. Don¡¯te in tomorrow. You¡¯re on paid leave. We¡¯ll suspend business for now.¡¯


    Priya asked softly, ¡®Do you think our other orders arepromised too?¡¯


    I nodded. ¡®It¡¯s possible.¡¯


    ¡®I can help,¡¯ she said quickly. ¡®I¡¯ll call all the clients, double-check the order details.¡¯


    ¡®I thought of that too,¡¯ I said. ¡®But it won¡¯t work. What if the files you send to the factory get tampered with again? Or the database altered after you¡¯ve confirmed with clients? We can¡¯t check and recheck every morning, and constant calls will only irritate customers.¡¯


    Priya thought it through and finally nodded. ¡®All right. I¡¯ll go home. But will you call me if you find anything? I want to help.¡¯


    ¡®I will.¡¯ I patted her shoulder.


    At the door, she paused and looked back. ¡®Mira, thank you for believing me.¡¯


    I gave her a faint smile. ¡®Just go home and rest. We¡¯ll survive this.¡¯


    After she left, I checked the rest of the orders.


    Sure enough, every single one had been tampered with.


    Some had their measurements altered by a few millimetres. It was subtle on paper, but the finished pieces would be drastically different from what the clients had approved.


    In other cases, rings had been swapped for nes, lower-rity stones used, carat weights changed.


    A headache throbbed behind my eyes as I scrolled through the files.


    I¡¯d have to call every client, apologise for cancelling their orders to prevent further disasters like Penelope¡¯s, offer refunds andpensation where needed, and brace myself for the fallout.


    It was not work I was looking forward to.


    When I returned to the hospital, I felt utterly drained.


    ¡®What happened at the studio?¡¯ Ashton asked.


    I rested my head against his chest. ¡®I feel awful.¡¯


    ¡®What is it?¡¯


    ¡®Someone sabotaged a major order and I have no idea who. The client¡¯s furious. She¡¯s demandingpensation for breach of contract and threatening to sue.¡¯


    ¡®How much does she want? Tell me,¡¯ Ashton said immediately.


    I shook my head. ¡®I can cover it. Money isn¡¯t the issue.¡¯


    I told him everything that had happened and then sighed. ¡®I really don¡¯t know who would want to frame me, or why they would target me.¡¯


    Ashton frowned.


    ¡®Do you think it¡¯s the same people behind the shooting and the sabotage at the studio?¡¯ I asked.


    He thought for a moment. ¡®Could be.¡¯


    ¡®I just don¡¯t know when I could have made enemies that powerful.¡¯


    Whoever it was would need connections to hire armed men and to tamper withputer systems. I was a jewellery designer. I didn¡¯t move in those circles. Who would want me dead and my reputation ruined?


    Part of me wanted to ask if it might be Ashton¡¯s enemies rather than mine, but I held back.


    He was already carrying enough guilt, and asking would only make him feel worse.


    The next day, I offered Penelope Mitchell a full refund and an additional million dors in damages.


    Thewsuit was withdrawn, but the hit to Mira Joie¡¯s reputation had been done.


    Within an hour, my inbox and social feeds were a war zone.


    I scrolled through a stream of angry reviews and panicked messages.


    Someone had already started a thread on a bridal forum warning brides to steer clear.


    A dozen one-star ratings appeared on our review page, each with a short, sharp sentence: ¡®Don¡¯t trust them,¡¯ ¡®Terrible service,¡¯ ¡®They ruined my order,¡¯ ¡®Avoid at all costs.¡¯


    People reposted Penelope¡¯s screenshots and added their own. The tone turned poisonous fast.


    I spent the morning and afternoon on my phone, calling clients one after another, trying to exin and to contain the fallout.


    Most were stunned, some were sympathetic, and a few were simply furious.


    One call still stuck with me.


    ¡®Hello, this is Mira from Mira Joie,¡¯ I said, forcing my voice steady.


    ¡®Mira?¡¯ The client sounded icy. ¡®You cancelled my order? I¡¯ve been waiting months. My sister¡¯s wedding is in two weeks. Do you have any idea how much this is going to cost us now?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m so sorry. We discovered the production files were tampered with. I don¡¯t want you to get a substandard piece. I¡¯m offering a full refund and I can prioritise a remake¡ª¡¯


    ¡®You can¡¯t prioritise now. It¡¯s toote. If you had told me sooner, I could have found someone else. You¡¯ve left me high and dry.¡¯ Her voice rose. ¡®You¡¯ll be cklisted. I¡¯ll post everywhere. I¡¯ll tell every nner I know not to touch you. Good luck fixing that!¡¯


    <fn237a> The source of th?s content is find(?)ovel</fn237a>


    ¡®I understand. I¡ª¡¯


    She hung up before I could finish.


    Byte afternoon, I could feel the day eating me. Every call seemed to open another wound.


    When thest client finally promised to think it over, exhaustion hit.


    My legs were leaden and my eyes prickled with fatigue. I sank onto the studio couch, phone limp in my hand, and stared at the muted screen.


    There were only two lights on the deskmp and a smear ofte sun on the floor.


    Then the phone rang.


    For a moment I froze, heart thudding.

 Chapter 316 Ashton’s POV: The One Person I Couldn’t Touch

    <h4>Chapter 316: Chapter 316 Ashton¡¯s POV: The One Person I Couldn¡¯t Touch</h4>


    Harry entered the room.


    ¡®Mr Laurent, we¡¯ve confirmed that the ones who sabotaged Mrs Laurent¡¯s studio, and the ones who tried to run her down and then shot at her... they were all hired by the same guy. He¡¯s a middleman, and he works for... Genevieve Crawford.¡¯


    I stared back at Harry. ¡®No mistakes?¡¯


    Truth was, I trusted Harry¡¯spetence. He wouldn¡¯t get something like this wrong.


    ¡®No. I¡¯ve checked multiple times. It¡¯s her. We also have a witness. Should I bring him in?¡¯


    I rubbed my throbbing head; the wound in my abdomen ached dully. ¡®Not now.¡¯


    ¡®What would you like me to do next?¡¯ Harry asked.


    ¡®Nothing. Not yet.¡¯


    ¡®Understood.¡¯


    ¡®And Mira must not find out about this.¡¯


    Harry nodded. ¡®Got it.¡¯


    ¡®You can go now.¡¯


    Once alone, I picked up my phone, thinking of calling Mirabelle, but in the end, I didn¡¯t dial.


    Guilt gnawed at me.


    Anyone who dared hurt Mirabelle would pay dearly; I¡¯d make sure they suffered.


    But Genevieve was the one person I couldn¡¯t touch, all because of what happened all those years ago...


    ¡®Goddamn it,¡¯ I muttered through clenched teeth, gripping the phone so hard I nearly cracked it.


    When I¡¯d got a grip on myself, I finally called Mirabelle.


    She sounded relieved. ¡®Thank god it¡¯s you.¡¯


    ¡®Who else would it be?¡¯


    ¡®I thought it was another client calling to shout at me.¡¯


    ¡®Sounds like you¡¯ve had a bad day.¡¯


    She sighed. ¡®One of the worst. But enough about me. How are you? Feeling any better? Is there much pain?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m fine,¡¯ I lied.


    ¡®What¡¯s up?¡¯ she asked.


    ¡®I miss you,¡¯ I said. And I truly did.


    Mirabelle went quiet for a second. ¡®Oh.¡¯


    ¡®Well? Do you miss me?¡¯ I pressed.


    ¡®Of course,¡¯ she said. ¡®But this isn¡¯t like you, saying all these sweet things. Are you sure you¡¯re alright? The doctor did warn me the anaesthesia might mess with your head.¡¯


    ¡®Can¡¯t I call my wife to tell her I miss her?¡¯


    ¡®Okay...¡¯ She still sounded uncertain.


    I moved on. ¡®I¡¯ll take you out for dinner tonight. Where would you like to go?¡¯


    ¡®Are you sure you should be eating solid food? It¡¯s only been two days since your surgery.¡¯


    I¡¯d forgotten about that. ¡®I can¡¯t, but you can.¡¯


    ¡®So you¡¯ll just watch me eat? That¡¯s weird. And you shouldn¡¯t even be leaving the hospital. Besides, I¡¯ve still got tons to do here at the studio. I really don¡¯t fancy spending two hours at a restaurant.¡¯


    ¡®Then I¡¯ll have Kit deliver something to you. What would you like?¡¯


    ¡®Anything¡¯s fine, really. You decide.¡¯


    After hanging up, I made another call.


    ¡®Ash! What a surprise!¡¯ Genevieve answered cheerfully.


    ¡®Genevieve.¡¯ My voice was cold and utterly toneless.


    She sensed it immediately. ¡®What¡¯s wrong, Ash?¡¯


    ¡®I know I owe you a life, Genevieve. But don¡¯t overstep. Mirabelle is my line. If you cross it again, I won¡¯t hold back.¡¯ My tone was frigid.


    I ended the call without waiting for a response.


    After that, I couldn¡¯t focus on work. I called Harry back in.


    ¡®Mr Laurent.¡¯


    ¡®I need you to prepare something for me,¡¯ I told him, and exined what I wanted.


    ¡®Right away,¡¯ Harry said, and went off to get it done.


    ***


    Mirabelle¡¯s eyes widened when she stepped out of the studio.


    She jogged up to the car. ¡®Ashton, what are you doing here?¡¯


    ¡®Picking you up,¡¯ I said. ¡®Get in.¡¯


    ¡®You didn¡¯t have toe. I¡¯ve got Kit.¡¯ She climbed into the back seat. ¡®The doctors said you should be on bed rest.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m fine.¡¯


    ¡®Are you, really?¡¯ She eyed my suit sceptically, as if she could see right through the fabric to the wound underneath. ¡®Doesn¡¯t it still hurt?¡¯


    ¡®I took painkillers.¡¯ Truth was, I¡¯d had worse.


    ¡®Still, you shouldn¡¯t have gone to the trouble.¡¯ She looked genuinely concerned.


    ¡®I need to take you somewhere.¡¯


    ¡®Where are we going?¡¯


    I told her the address.


    The confused frown on her face told me it meant nothing to her.


    <fn5959> ??? ????? ???????s ??? ?????s??? ?? findnovel</fn5959>


    ¡®It¡¯s an old warehouse LGH owns,¡¯ I exined.


    ¡®You¡¯ll have to be clearer than that.¡¯ She shook her head. ¡®My brain¡¯s turned to mush after getting yelled at all day.¡¯


    ¡®I found the person who sabotaged your studio. We¡¯re going to see her now.¡¯


    ¡®You did?¡¯ She sat up straighter. ¡®Who is it?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯ll see soon enough.¡¯


    When the car pulled up outside the warehouse, Mirabelle was the first one out, impatient.


    I took her hand as we went into the building, with Kit leading the way.


    Harry was waiting inside a room that used to be an office, standing behind a chair.


    ¡®You?!¡¯ Mirabelle stopped short when she saw who was sitting there.


    Catherine red up at her with pure hatred in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but when she saw me, her pupils shrank with fear.


    Mirabelle strode right up to her. ¡®You¡¯re the one who hacked my studio database and messed with all the orders?¡¯


    Catherine gave a weak nod.


    ¡®Why the hell would you do that? And since when do you know how to hack?¡¯


    Catherine shot a nce at me, then sneered at Mirabelle. ¡®I hired a hacker.¡¯


    ¡®And the gunman? The ones who chased me in the Camry? That was you too?¡¯


    Another nod.


    ¡®Why?¡¯


    Catherine¡¯s smile was cruel. ¡®Do you really have to ask? I hate you. You ruined my life.¡¯


    I stood behind Mirabelle, watching Catherine closely. So far, she was sticking to the script.


    Catherine grew agitated and strained against the rope binding her wrists to the chair. ¡®If it weren¡¯t for you, Rhys wouldn¡¯t have divorced me. If not for you, Mum would still be my mum and she¡¯d never have found out I wasn¡¯t her birth daughter. If not for you, Dad would still be alive. You ruined my life, you ruined everything! Why should you get to live a happy life while I¡¯m left in the gutter?¡¯


    Mirabelle clenched her fists, but her voice stayed calm. ¡®I know you¡¯ve always hated me. I just never thought you had it in you to pull something like this.¡¯


    Catherine let out a shrillugh. ¡®I just wish I¡¯d done it sooner. And I wish that gunman had aimed better.¡¯


    She nced at me again, her look a mix of fear and resentment.


    Mirabelle turned around and reached for my hand. ¡®Let¡¯s go.¡¯


    I looked at Harry, who gave a single nod.


    She didn¡¯t say another word until we were outside the warehouse. ¡®What are you going to do with her?¡¯


    ¡®What would you like me to do?¡¯


    She just looked tired. ¡®Turn her over to the police.¡¯


    I nodded.

 Chapter 317 Fall Guy

    <h4>Chapter 317: Chapter 317 Fall Guy</h4>


    I spent the night tossing and turning.


    Catherine was behind everything?


    Somehow, part of me refused to believe it.


    It wasn¡¯t that I still had any sisterly feelings for her. It was just that... it didn¡¯t seem like her.


    She was catty and vengeful, and she wasn¡¯t above resorting to low tricks to get at me.


    But her tactics usually involved spreading rumours, backstabbing, or sabotaging my rtionships.


    I¡¯d have more readily believed if she¡¯d tried to seduce Ashton than hired a gunman to kill me.


    Where would she even go to find people like that?


    But Ashton¡¯swork of contacts was far more powerful than mine, and I had no reason to doubt what his men had dug up.


    Besides, Catherine had confessed, hadn¡¯t she?


    Shaking those thoughts away, I dragged myself out of bed when the rm rang.


    Against the doctors¡¯ wishes and mine, Ashton had checked out of the hospital ande home.


    I insisted we take separate bedrooms. I¡¯m a restless sleeper; I toss and turn, and I was terrified I¡¯d identally kick him in the stomach and make his injury worse.


    Waking up alone felt odd. I¡¯d gotten used to sharing a bed with him.


    Back in the room I¡¯d first stayed in when I moved into his house, I sat for a while, still groggy.


    When my phone rang, I groped for it and answered without looking. ¡®Hello?¡¯


    ¡®Mirabelle, it¡¯s me. Please don¡¯t hang up. I have something important to tell you.¡¯ Rhys sounded rushed, anxious that I¡¯d cut him off the second I heard his voice.


    ¡®What is it?¡¯ I said, my tone cold.


    ¡®I know about the attempt on your life, and what happened at your studio. Do you know who was really behind it?¡¯ Rhys spoke with a serious intensity.


    I frowned. ¡®Thanks for your concern. I know. My husband has already looked into it for me, so you don¡¯t need to bother.¡¯


    <fn1697> Updates are released by ?ovelFind</fn1697>


    ¡®Mirabelle, I know you hate me, you don¡¯t want to talk to me, but this isn¡¯t what you think. On this, Ashton is lying to you. It wasn¡¯t Catherine,¡¯ he said, deadly serious.


    ¡®What are you talking about? If it wasn¡¯t Catherine, then who was it?¡¯ I was wide awake now.


    ¡®Do you really want to know? I¡¯ll be outside your studio at lunchtime. Meet me, and I¡¯ll tell you. I promise you won¡¯t regret it. And Ashton didn¡¯t just get it wrong, he did it on purpose. He already knew who wanted to hurt you. He¡¯s protecting them by using Catherine as a scapegoat.¡¯ Rhys still sounded utterly convinced.


    ¡®That¡¯s not possible.¡¯ His words made my heart clench. ¡®He wouldn¡¯t lie to me.¡¯


    ¡®Maybe he wouldn¡¯t about other things. He treats you well, he protects you, he¡¯d probably give you anything you wanted to make you happy. But on this, he really is lying to protect someone else. Do you understand? Don¡¯t be so naive, don¡¯t just trust him unconditionally. He might beughing at you for being such a fool.¡¯


    ¡®How can you say that? I don¡¯t believe you,¡¯ I said, flustered and angry.


    But inside, I felt a pang of doubt.


    ¡®I have proof. If you want to know the truth, then meet me for lunch. I won¡¯t try anything, I just want to see you. I miss you.¡¯ Rhys hung up then, not giving me a chance to say no.


    ¡®Is it true?¡¯ I muttered, my brow furrowed. ¡®Ashton... who is he trying to protect?¡¯


    I shook my head, talking to myself again. ¡®No. It can¡¯t be. Ashton wouldn¡¯t do that to me. Rhys must be lying.¡¯


    I got out of bed, paced, then paced some more.


    ¡®I won¡¯t go. I won¡¯t see him,¡¯ I decided.


    But then I felt like I¡¯d just be deluding myself if I didn¡¯t.


    ¡®Damn it, what should I do?¡¯ I sighed. ¡®Fine. I¡¯ll go and see what Rhys is up to. I¡¯ll see what so-called proof he has.¡¯


    Over breakfast, I asked Ashton, ¡®How did you find out it was Catherine?¡¯


    He looked at me. ¡®I put Harry and Dominic on it. They reached out to some contacts in the police force, plus... you remember Kylian and Olivier?¡¯


    I nodded. They were Ashton¡¯s old business partners, the ones who now ran Titanova Corp, mostly out of Europe.


    Ashton said, ¡®They made a few calls, found out which organisation the gunman worked for. From there, it was straightforward.¡¯


    ¡®So... everything points back to Catherine.¡¯


    Ashton nodded. ¡®Why do you ask?¡¯


    ¡®Just curious. What about the studio sabotage? How¡¯d she manage to hire a hacker? She said she paid for one, but I still can¡¯t quite figure out where she got the contacts, or even the money. From what I heard, Rhys left her with almost nothing after the divorce. Last I knew, she was leaving Skyline with Mu¡ªwith Caroline.¡¯


    Ashton set down his fork and looked at me properly. ¡®She did leave, but that was a while ago. I didn¡¯t mention this, but they¡ªCaroline, Catherine, and Serenna¡ªmoved back to Skylinest month.¡¯


    I pressed a hand to my temple. ¡®Right! I forgot. I saw Serenna at the party. I should¡¯ve been more surprised. It just slipped my mind.¡¯


    ¡®Harry has the full file¡ªeverything he found, names, dates, payments. If you want, I can have him send you a copy.¡¯


    I shook my head. ¡®There¡¯s no point. I was just wondering.¡¯


    Ashton held my gaze for a long moment, quiet and steady.


    I looked down at my te.


    The morning dragged on, painfully slow.


    Finally, noon rolled around. The second it did, I hurried out of the studio.


    There, parked not far away, was Rhys¡¯s familiar car.

 Chapter 318 Blow After Blow

    <h4>Chapter 318: Chapter 318 Blow After Blow</h4>


    A slight smile touched Rhys¡¯s lips when he saw me. ¡®You came.¡¯


    He quickly got out of the car and came to my side. ¡®Mirabelle... you still trust me, then.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t trust you. I just want to see what game you¡¯re ying,¡¯ I said, my voice cold.


    ¡®That¡¯s alright. You¡¯ll believe that I¡¯m not ying games this time. You¡¯ll believeing to lunch with me was worth it. Where would you like to go?¡¯ His eyes were soft, his tone gentle.


    ¡®The restaurant across the road,¡¯ I said. I was only here for the truth, not for him.


    ¡®Alright.¡¯


    The restaurant was fairly busy. I asked for a private booth.


    Once we¡¯d ordered, I got straight to the point. ¡®Where¡¯s this proof you mentioned?¡¯


    ¡®Are you really in that much of a hurry?¡¯ Rhys looked at me with wounded eyes, but I felt nothing.


    ¡®Yes, I¡¯m in a hurry to find out what you¡¯re scheming. I also don¡¯t want to be here with you. You know that. If you hadn¡¯t said it was about this, I would never havee.¡¯


    Rhys gave a bitter smile. ¡®Fine. I understand.¡¯ He handed me a folder. ¡®Someone gave this to me. See for yourself. There are some photos in there, too.¡¯


    He pointed to a picture of a man. ¡®This guy¡¯s a low-level hustler. Does nothing all day, but hisputer skills are decent. He makes a living from shady jobs. If you pay him, he¡¯ll do pretty much anything. He¡¯s the one who hacked into your studio¡¯swork and messed with your database and job sheets.¡¯


    I looked at the photo. The man was maybe in histe twenties, andpletely unfamiliar. I was sure I¡¯d never seen him before.


    ¡®This isn¡¯t enough proof,¡¯ I said. ¡®This could just be a random guy¡¯s photo you downloaded online.¡¯


    ¡®Wait, there¡¯s more.¡¯ Rhys tapped his phone. ¡®I just sent you a video.¡¯


    I opened it on my own phone. In the clip, the hacker confessed to altering my studio¡¯s orders.


    ¡®How did you get this? And how can you prove this man wasn¡¯t hired by Catherine?¡¯


    ¡®Look at these.¡¯ Rhys sent me another file.


    It was a record of transactions. Payments received by the hacker, sent by a middleman, who in turn got the money from...


    ¡®Genevieve,¡¯ I muttered.


    Rhys nodded. ¡®That¡¯s right. The hacker never met Genevieve face to face, but the money he was paid ultimately came from her.¡¯


    <fn5530> Original content can be found at f?i?n?d?n?o?v?e?l?</fn5530>


    My chest felt tight, my heart pounding with anger and disappointment.


    So, the person Rhys said Ashton was protecting... it was Genevieve?


    ¡®Are you saying the person who wanted to hurt me is Genevieve, not Catherine? Then why did Catherine confess?¡¯ I asked, my eyes fixed on him.


    Seeing that I was finally starting to believe him, Rhys gave a faint, humourlessugh. ¡®For money. She¡¯d do anything for money.¡¯ His smile was cynical. ¡®Ashton paid her to take the me.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s not possible,¡¯ I shot back.


    Rhys¡¯s expression shifted to one of pained sympathy. ¡®Do you care about him that much? You won¡¯t even believe solid evidence right in front of you?¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s my husband. Of course I care about him.¡¯


    My heart was trembling, aching. Why would Ashton protect Genevieve like this?


    ¡®Why should I believe you? You say Ashton paid Catherine and she just agreed? How do you even know that? You¡¯re divorced. And besides, Ashton said he¡¯d hand Catherine over to the police. Would she really take money just to go to prison?¡¯ A part of me was still desperately trying to defend him, hoping everything Rhys said was a lie.


    ¡®You think Ashton actually called the police?¡¯ Rhys¡¯s tone was mocking. ¡®Look... see who this is? Isn¡¯t it Catherine? She left Skylinest night. This is her at the airport. You think Ashton would really hand her over? You¡¯re so naive.¡¯


    He continued, ¡®I¡¯m telling you, he lied to you. He never called the police. He gave Catherine ten million. Quite generous, really. Ten million, just like that. You know Catherine as well as I do. She¡¯s vain. When we divorced, she fought me for every penny because it was never enough for her. She doesn¡¯t even have a job now. How long would it take her to earn ten million on her own? Of course she was tempted.¡¯


    He wasn¡¯t done. ¡®Look, here¡¯s the transfer record. The proof. It wasn¡¯t Ashton himself who sent it, but if you look into this ount, you¡¯ll find the guy works for Ryan Fenty.¡¯


    I stared at him. ¡®Ryan Fenty? What does that have to do with¡ª¡¯


    ¡®With Ashton? What if I told you Fenty transferred the money as a favour to Ashton? Don¡¯t look so shocked. It¡¯s standard practice in our world. People use names they¡¯re not directly linked to when a transaction is... inconvenient, or just in illegal. If you don¡¯t believe me, go ask Fenty yourself.¡¯


    The blows just kepting. ¡®And these photos. This man is Ashton¡¯s assistant, right? Harry, or something. He was the one who personally approached Catherine. With all this evidence, how can you still not believe me?¡¯ Rhys stared at me. ¡®Mirabelle, don¡¯t be a fool.¡¯


    ¡®Maybe Harry meeting Catherine doesn¡¯t prove anything on its own,¡¯ he pressed on, ¡®but this evidence is more than enough to show that things aren¡¯t what Ashton told you.¡¯


    I bit my lower lip, my hand clutching the folder tightly. ¡®How did you get all this? How do you have photos of Catherine meeting Harry? Or the transaction records between Genevieve and the hacker?¡¯


    ¡®Of course I didn¡¯t have the means to get this myself,¡¯ Rhys said. ¡®Someone gave it to me. Someone who clearly doesn¡¯t want you and Ashton to stay married. But that¡¯s not the important part, is it? The important thing is that this is the truth.¡¯


    ¡®Who? Who doesn¡¯t want me with Ashton?¡¯

 Chapter 319 A Bitter Pill To Swallow

    <h4>Chapter 319: Chapter 319 A Bitter Pill To Swallow</h4>


    ¡®Genevieve, of course. Who else?¡¯ Rhys didn¡¯t hesitate to tell me.


    ¡®So, Genevieve gave you all this?¡¯ I frowned, staring at him in disbelief. ¡®She¡¯s the one who gave it to you?¡¯


    ¡®Yes, she did. She wants to drive a wedge between you and Ashton. But that doesn¡¯t change the fact that it¡¯s all true.¡¯ He seemed past caring about hiding it. ¡®I guess she was testing Ashton too. She wanted to see who he would choose to protect¡ªher or you. And she won.¡¯


    Yeah, she won. That truth was a bitter pill to swallow.


    ¡®At least in this, Ashton waspletely on her side. He shielded her, even found a scapegoat to take the fall. She gave me this because she wanted to taunt you. She¡¯s basically telling you to bow out.¡¯


    Every word felt like a knife twisting in my chest.


    ¡®Stop it!¡¯ I said, unable to take any more.


    ¡®Denial doesn¡¯t help. This is how it is.¡¯ Rhys sighed. ¡®Mirabelle, don¡¯t be naive.¡¯


    ¡®What¡¯s in this for you? What did Genevieve promise you?¡¯ I watched him closely, my eyes narrowed. ¡®I don¡¯t believe you¡¯d just tell me all this out of the goodness of your heart.¡¯


    ¡®Nothing. Genevieve didn¡¯t offer me anything. I just didn¡¯t want you to be lied to, that¡¯s all. I didn¡¯t want you kept in the dark. There¡¯s no other motive.¡¯ His blue eyes were intent, sincere.


    ¡®You really expect me to believe that? You¡¯re here to ruin things between me and Ashton too, aren¡¯t you? If you truly had my best interests at heart, you would never have told me.¡¯


    ¡®Mirabelle, stop deluding yourself. Wake up! What good does it do you, lying to yourself? He was willing to lie to you for Genevieve. He could betray you for her, too.¡¯ His gaze was earnest, a warning.


    Hearing that felt like another sharp stab to the heart. Could it be true?


    ¡®Mirabelle, leave him. I¡¯ll marry you. I love you. I know what I did was wrong, and I know I hurt you. I promise I¡¯ll never do it again. I¡¯ll treat you right, I¡¯ll make up for everything.¡¯ Rhys reached out and gripped my hand tightly.


    I looked at him with pure disgust and pulled my hand away. ¡®You think telling me all this will make me divorce Ashton? Dream on. I could never be with you, even if my marriage fell apart.¡¯


    ¡®Mirabelle, I¡¯m the one who told you the truth. Why does it seem like you¡¯re angry with ME? Shouldn¡¯t you be mad at Ashton? He¡¯s the one who betrayed your trust.¡¯ Rhys looked genuinely confused, and a little hurt.


    ¡®Go tell Genevieve that no matter what she does, it¡¯s useless. I will never leave Ashton. As long as I live and breathe, she will never have him, and she will never be Mrs Laurent.¡¯ I stood, grabbing my bag to leave.


    ¡®Mirabelle!¡¯ Rhys quickly caught my arm. ¡®Can¡¯t you see how naive you¡¯re being? What good does it do to live in denial? Ashton doesn¡¯t love you. If he did, he wouldn¡¯t treat you like a fool, lying to you and being unfaithful. Why would you want to be with someone like that? You¡¯re only making yourself miserable. And Genevieve is no pushover. If she¡¯s tried to hurt you once, she¡¯ll do it again and again. You¡¯re no match for her.¡¯


    My expression was nk. ¡®Let go of me.¡¯


    ¡®Alright, alright, I¡¯m letting go. I know you¡¯re upset. Just go home and think this over. If you need my help with anything, you know where to find me.¡¯ He released my arm but continued, ¡®Take these documents with you.¡¯


    Rhys gathered the scattered papers from the table and pressed the folder into my hand. ¡®Stop being so foolish, please, just listen to me. And I¡¯ll always be here waiting for you. I love you. No one could love you more than I do.¡¯


    ¡®Thank you.¡¯ I didn¡¯t look back.


    I wasn¡¯t thanking him for his deration of love; I¡¯d long learned to take anything he said with a massive pinch of salt.


    I was thanking him for giving me the truth, however maniptive his motives might have been


    I walked out of the restaurant in a daze. What was I supposed to do now? The person I trusted most had lied to me.


    ¡®No. This might not even be true. I need to get some real answers.¡¯ I wiped my eyes fiercely.


    I picked up my phone to call Ashton, but hesitated.


    Even if I asked him, he¡¯d probably just lie to me again. He¡¯d juste up with another story.


    Then I remembered what Rhys had said about Ryan Fenty.


    The problem was, I didn¡¯t know the man. I¡¯d only met him once, at that party.


    <fn3b54> This update is avable on Find_Novel(.</fn3b54>


    But I did know his wife, Naomi Fenty, and I had her number.


    Maybe I could reach out to her?


    I made the call before I could talk myself out of it.


    ¡®Hello? Mirabelle! This is a pleasant surprise.¡¯ Naomi sounded genuinely pleased to hear from me.


    ¡®Naomi, are you free?¡¯ I asked, carefully keeping my voice light and steady.


    ¡®Free? I¡¯m stuck at home every day, of course I¡¯m free! What¡¯s up?¡¯ Then sheined, ¡®Ever since I got pregnant, I¡¯ve been cooped up here. I¡¯m practically growing mould. Last time I managed to get out, I almost... well, let¡¯s just say Ryan has me on house arrest now.¡¯


    ¡®Well, how about dinner tonight? There¡¯s something I need your help with. But could you please not mention anything to your husband?¡¯

 Chapter 320 Who’s the Liar?

    <h4>Chapter 320: Chapter 320 Who¡¯s the Liar?</h4>


    Naomi sounded puzzled. ¡®What is it? So mysterious that you can¡¯t even let me tell Ryan?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll exin everything over dinner. You¡¯re the only one who can help me with this.¡¯


    ¡®Okay, okay, don¡¯t worry. I won¡¯t say a word. Where shall we meet?¡¯ Naomi could tell I was serious and quickly agreed.


    ¡®You choose. But are you sure it¡¯s alright, in your condition?¡¯ I knew how protective Ryan Fenty was about her and their unborn baby.


    ¡®It¡¯s fine, really. Let¡¯s meet at The Galleria. I¡¯ll go there this afternoon to look at some baby things, and we can have dinner when you finish work.¡¯


    ¡®Alright, but please be careful. I wouldn¡¯t bother you like this if I had anyone else to ask. I feel terrible asking you toe out while you¡¯re pregnant. Ryan would probably me me if he found out.¡¯


    But I needed to know the truth. Even though a part of me suspected Rhys was right, I still clung to a sliver of hope that Ashton was innocent, that he wouldn¡¯t do this to me.


    ¡®Don¡¯t be silly. I¡¯m d to help,¡¯ Naomi reassured me. ¡®I¡¯ve been so bored stuck at home. Ryan¡¯s probably going mad with me around all the time. He might be d to see me go out for a bit.¡¯


    ¡®Okay. Thank you, Naomi. See you tonight.¡¯


    ¡®Sure. I¡¯ll have a nap and then head out. I¡¯ll call youter.¡¯


    ¡®Sounds good.¡¯


    I ended the call and let out a long, weary sigh.


    The afternoon dragged on, and I found it impossible to focus.


    <fn3ae3> This update is avable on F?ndNovel</fn3ae3>


    At one point, Ashton called.


    I answered with a t ¡®Hello.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll take you out for dinner tonight. Where do you want to go?¡¯ His voice was low and husky, like he was tired.


    It reminded me that he¡¯d only just left hospital, that the gunshot wound he¡¯d taken for me was still healing.


    The thought still filled me with gratitude.


    But then, if what Rhys said was true¡ªif Genevieve was behind it all, and Ashton had gone to such lengths to set up Catherine and lie to me¡ªthe feeling soured into something stuck and painful in my throat.


    ¡®I can¡¯t tonight, I¡¯m afraid. Naomi Fenty just called and asked me to join her for dinner and a bit of shopping. I¡¯ve already said yes.¡¯ I kept my voice light and cheerful.


    ¡®Can you reschedule?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ve already promised her. Next time?¡¯ I forced augh.


    ¡®Fine. Alright. Just be careful,¡¯ he relented.


    ¡®Don¡¯t worry. Right, I¡¯d better go, I¡¯ve got loads to do,¡¯ I said brightly.


    He sounded faintly annoyed that I was rushing him off the phone. ¡®Are you that busy today?¡¯


    ¡®Unfortunately, yes. Client problems. Talkter.¡¯ I hung up before he could ask more.


    Once the call ended, I sighed heavily. ¡®How does he act like nothing¡¯s wrong?¡¯


    The rest of the afternoon was pure agony, each minute stretching longer than thest.


    Finally, work finished. I quickly packed up and headed for The Galleria.


    ¡®Mirabelle, over here!¡¯ Naomi waved at me from her booth. ¡®Sit. Let¡¯s order first. What do you want to eat? You look like you need the fuel.¡¯ From my expression, she could tell something was seriously wrong.


    ¡®Yeah, you¡¯re right.¡¯ Even if I had no appetite, I couldn¡¯t let a pregnant woman go hungry.


    After we¡¯d ordered, I looked her over. ¡®How have you been?¡¯


    ¡®Pretty good. I¡¯m past the four-month mark now, so I¡¯m eating and sleeping well. But look, I¡¯ve already put on so much weight.¡¯


    ¡®You still look slim to me. You should probably eat more. I¡¯ve heard that if the mother is healthy, the baby will be too.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s what Ryan says too. He¡¯s constantly trying to feed me more.¡¯ A sweet, happy smile touched her lips.


    I envied that sweetness and happiness. I envied their loving marriage, and the fact they would soon have their own child.


    ¡®What about you and Ashton? Any ns for a baby?¡¯ Naomi¡¯s round, curious eyes fixed on me.


    I shook my head. ¡®Let¡¯s not talk about that.¡¯


    ¡®What¡¯s wrong? Have you two had a fight?¡¯


    ¡®No. We don¡¯t really fight; he always gives way to me.¡¯ I looked at her with a pained smile. ¡®The reason I asked to see you... I need a favour. But you have to promise me you won¡¯t tell your husband.¡¯


    ¡®What is it? You¡¯re making me nervous. And I¡¯d been meaning to ask, whye to me instead of the all-powerful Ashton? Go on, tell me, what¡¯s going on?¡¯ She was practically buzzing with anticipation.


    ¡®A little while ago, something happened at my studio. Someone sabotaged it. They hacked into my database and altered the job sheets, which messed up all the customer orders...¡¯ I exined the whole situation to her. ¡®Look, here¡¯s all the evidence.¡¯


    ¡®What? Ashton did that? He covered for Genevieve and lied to you?¡¯ Naomi was incredulous.


    I pressed my lips together, my smile bitter. ¡®Look at all this proof. If someone hadn¡¯t shown this to me, I¡¯d still believe Ashton¡¯s version.¡¯


    Naomi studied the documents carefully. ¡®Hmm, it does seem... real. But wait, this transfer record... why is it from my husband? What the hell? Was Ryan involved in this too?¡¯ Her brow furrowed.


    ¡®Yes. That¡¯s actually why I need your help.¡¯


    ¡®So... what do you need me to do? Ask him about it?¡¯ Naomi looked at me seriously.


    ¡®I know it¡¯s a huge favour to ask, but...¡¯


    ¡®Say no more.¡¯ Naomi patted my hand. ¡®I¡¯d do the same thing in your position.¡¯


    I gave her a grateful smile. ¡®I don¡¯t want Ashton to find out about this.¡¯


    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and


    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 321 Nobody’s Perfect

    <h4>Chapter 321: Chapter 321 Nobody¡¯s Perfect</h4>


    Naomi seemed genuinely interested in helping. She even came up with a n.


    ¡®I¡¯ll show Ryan this statement and ask him why he transferred money to some woman named Catherine. I¡¯ll ask if he¡¯s keeping a mistress, if he¡¯s done something to betray me. He¡¯ll panic and want to exin himself. He¡¯ll have to tell me the truth.¡¯


    She nodded as she spoke, looking very pleased with her own idea.


    I was about to suggest the same thing. ¡®That would be perfect. I don¡¯t know how to thank you. I know I shouldn¡¯t be bothering you with all this, especially now you¡¯re pregnant. But I really need to know if what I suspect is true. I don¡¯t think I can let this go until I know for sure.¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll definitely help you. Leave it to me. And try not to overthink it. I¡¯m sure Ashton had his reasons.¡¯ She squeezed my hand reassuringly. ¡®Really, I can tell he cares about you deeply. I¡¯ve heard Ashton and Genevieve have known each other since they were kids. Maybe he just wanted to give her a second chance.¡¯


    ¡®I really hope I¡¯m wrong about this.¡¯ I didn¡¯t know if I was trying to convince Naomi or myself.


    ¡®Tell you what, once I¡¯ve found out the truth from Ryan, you should talk to Ashton properly. Ask him why. I think marriages need trust tost. Just give him a chance to exin, alright?¡¯ Naomi patted my hand.


    I nodded. ¡®Okay. Thank you. I¡¯m so d I have you.¡¯


    ¡®What are friends for? Besides, that day at the party, if you hadn¡¯t caught me, I might have lost the baby.¡¯ Her expression grew sombre. ¡®Every time I think about it, my heart still clenches. We were so lucky, thanks to you.¡¯


    ¡®I really didn¡¯t do that much. Besides, it was partially my fault.¡¯


    ¡®Let¡¯s not dwell on it. We¡¯re friends. You can alwayse to me with anything, you know that? I¡¯ll always help.¡¯ Naomi¡¯s tone waspletely sincere.


    ¡®Okay. Thanks.¡¯


    ¡®Come on, eat. You look like you need the calories more than I do,¡¯ she urged, pushing a te towards me.


    We ate and chatted. Naomi was in good spirits, but I couldn¡¯t really share her mood. I felt heavy and subdued, my heart sitting like a stone in my chest.


    That evening, I got a text from her.


    Naomi: [I asked him. It¡¯s true. Ashton did get Ryan to transfer the money to that Catherine woman.]


    She ended the message with an apologetic emoji.


    But it wasn¡¯t her fault.


    I thanked her.


    She sent another message: [Ryan told Ashton. Sorry, I asked him not to, but he¡¯s stubborn.]


    My phone rang.


    ¡®Mira, where are you?¡¯ Ashton sounded tense.


    ¡®I¡¯m at a friend¡¯s ce. She¡¯s had some bad news and isn¡¯t doing well, so I¡¯m staying with her.¡¯ My voice was t and distant, stripped of any warmth.


    ¡®So you¡¯re noting home tonight?¡¯


    ¡®No. I was going to call you, but you beat me to it. Don¡¯t wait up. I¡¯ll probably stay with her for a few days.¡¯ I didn¡¯t want to go back yet. I couldn¡¯t face him.


    <fnfae9> Read full story at f?i?n?d?n?o?v?e?l?</fnfae9>


    All this time, I¡¯d believed Ashton was too good to me. He wasn¡¯t much of a talker, and he could seem cold on the outside, but his love felt fierce and real. It almost made me feel unworthy.


    It wasn¡¯t until we were stranded on that ind that I finally understood my own heart, and started to believe that fairy tales could actually happen¡ªthat a prince really could choose a nobody like me.


    But I never thought he would help Genevieve lie to me. I never imagined he¡¯d find a scapegoat just to cover for her.


    ¡®You can stay one night. But I expect you home tomorrow,¡¯ he said, his tone gentle but leaving no room for argument.


    ¡®Alright.¡¯ I didn¡¯t have the energy to argue.


    ¡®Take care of yourself.¡¯


    ¡®I will. Bye.¡¯ My voice stayed empty.


    ¡®Why didn¡¯t you just ask him? Ask him why he did it?¡¯ Yvaine asked after I hung up.


    I hadn¡¯t lied to Ashton¡ªI really was at a friend¡¯s. But the one who wasn¡¯t doing well wasn¡¯t Yvaine. It was me.


    I gave a weak smile. ¡®What¡¯s the point? If he wanted to exin, he would have. If he really cared, he¡¯d be worried now that I know. He¡¯d try to exin himself. But he didn¡¯t say anything.¡¯


    ¡®But he¡¯s always been so good to you.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t know anymore. Maybe he¡¯s found someone more worthy of his attention.¡¯ I sighed bitterly. ¡®Maybe I should just be grateful itsted this long. A man like Ashton... he was always out of my league.¡¯


    Maybe I should have known better. Nobody¡¯s perfect. Why did I ever think Ashton could be?


    ¡®Well, if you¡¯re convinced he¡¯s betrayed you, you should divorce him,¡¯ Yvaine said. ¡®There are plenty of decent men out there. No point wasting your time on the wrong one.¡¯


    As my best friend, Yvaine had always been team ¡®break up¡¯, not ¡®make up¡¯. She lived by that rule herself, changing boyfriends faster than most people change clothes. The second a new guy showed a w she didn¡¯t like, she was done. No second chances.


    A part of me had always admired how decisive she was, how easily she could walk away.


    I thought I was like that too¡ªat least, I had been with Rhys. I ended things cleanly and never looked back.


    So why was I hesitating now when it came to Ashton?


    ¡®It¡¯ste. Time for bed,¡¯ I said, and slipped into the bathroom.


    Yvaine called after me from the other side of the door, ¡®You can¡¯t run from this forever!¡¯

 Chapter 322 Restless

    <h4>Chapter 322: Chapter 322 Restless</h4>


    Though I waspletely at home in Yvaine¡¯s house, I couldn¡¯t sleep.


    Without Ashton¡¯s strong, warm arms around me, I felt strangely restless. I¡¯d grown used to his warmth, the familiar scent of him, that unique presence that was just his.


    I missed him.


    When I woke the next morning, my head was throbbing, but I still dragged myself to work.


    ¡®You look terrible. Why not just rest at home? You¡¯re the boss, after all.¡¯ Yvaine watched me with concern.


    I forced a smile and shook my head. ¡®No, it¡¯s fine.¡¯


    Work was better. Sitting around with nothing to do would just leave me brooding.


    ¡®Alright then, I¡¯lle to Sugar & Whim too. It¡¯s right across from your studio, so I¡¯ll be nearby if you need me.¡¯


    I raised an eyebrow at her. ¡®You actually remember you own a cake shop?¡¯


    It was a miracle her ce was still in business, let alone thriving, given how often she left it to run itself.


    ¡®Of course I do. But I¡¯ve got a manager who handles the day-to-day. I don¡¯t need to be there every single day. Consider this a special exception, for you.¡¯


    I hugged her. ¡®Thanks.¡¯


    She patted my back. ¡®What are best friends for? Or have you reced me with this new Naomi?¡¯


    Iughed softly. ¡®Don¡¯t be jealous. She¡¯s lovely. I¡¯ll introduce you sometime.¡¯


    Yvaine sniffed. ¡®Well, since she helped you out, I suppose I can ept her as a friend.¡¯


    Then she flopped back onto the bed.


    I stared at her. ¡®I thought you wereing with me?¡¯


    She yawned and rolled over. ¡®I am. But I didn¡¯t say now. It¡¯s too early. I need more sleep.¡¯


    I checked my phone. ¡®It¡¯s almost nine.¡¯


    Her voice was muffled by the pillow. ¡®That¡¯s practically midnight for me.¡¯


    I shook my head in amusement. ¡®Fine. I¡¯m heading to the studio. See youter.¡¯


    When I got in, I made myself a very strong coffee. No sugar. It was bitter and exactly what I needed to wake up.


    ¡®Mirabelle, are you alright? You look like you didn¡¯t sleep at allst night,¡¯ Priya asked,ing over with a concerned look.


    She¡¯d insisted oning in to help, even though I¡¯d given her the month off.


    ¡®Can¡¯t let you be the only one getting yelled at by clients, can I?¡¯ she¡¯d said.


    She¡¯d even taken a voluntary pay cut, insisting she should bear part of the responsibility.


    I forced a smile. ¡®Yeah, didn¡¯t sleep well. I¡¯ve been thinking about the database. From now on, we need backups for our backups¡ªnot just digital, but hard copies of everything.¡¯


    She nodded. ¡®Makes sense.¡¯


    ¡®Could you check the website, see if there are any new orders?¡¯ Though it was pretty unlikely.


    She went back to her workstation, and I returned to my own work.


    I sent emails to clients, chased the OEM factory for updates on production orders, and sketched out new designs even though it was doubtful we¡¯dnd any new clients soon.


    I had to keep my mindpletely upied. It was the only way to stop thinking about Ashton and Genevieve.


    Byte morning, my head was fuzzy. I hadn¡¯t slept properly, and it showed.


    ¡®Lunch time! Let¡¯s go eat.¡¯ Priya stopped by my desk.


    ¡®Alright.¡¯ I was hungry, and feeling a bit lightheaded. Probably low blood sugar, since I¡¯d skipped breakfast.


    As we stepped out of the studio, I saw Genevieve getting out of a car and walking straight toward us.


    She smiled, a look of pure satisfaction on her face. ¡®Let¡¯s have lunch together.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not interested in having lunch with you. Besides, I¡¯ve already made ns with my colleague,¡¯ I said coldly.


    <fn2d63> Fresh chapters posted on find?novel</fn2d63>


    ¡®I have something important to tell you. Something I think you¡¯ll want to hear. We really need to talk.¡¯


    ¡®I have nothing to say to you.¡¯ I turned to Priya. ¡®Let¡¯s go.¡¯


    ¡®Then I¡¯lle find you tonight. If you¡¯re busy then, I¡¯ll try again tomorrow. I¡¯ll keep trying until you make time,¡¯ Genevieve said smoothly, stepping in front of me with a faint, superior smile.


    ¡®What do you actually want?¡¯ I asked, my voice tight with anger.


    ¡®I just think we should talk. Don¡¯t you agree?¡¯


    Priya leaned in and whispered, ¡®Maybe you should just hear her out. She doesn¡¯t look like she¡¯s going to give up. I¡¯lle with you. If she tries anything, I¡¯ll step in.¡¯


    I let out a tense breath and looked at Genevieve¡¯s smug expression. ¡®Fine. Let¡¯s go.¡¯


    She nced at Priya. ¡®Are you sure you want an audience?¡¯


    I turned to Priya. ¡®You should go ahead without me.¡¯


    ¡®Are you sure?¡¯ Priya still looked worried.


    I nodded.


    She reluctantly agreed. ¡®Fine, but I¡¯ll be nearby. Call me if you need anything.¡¯


    ¡®I will.¡¯ I watched her leave.


    Genevieve¡¯s smile widened triumphantly as she followed me to a nearby restaurant, and I chose a table by the window.


    I fixed her with an icy stare. ¡®You can spit it out now.¡¯


    ¡®Let¡¯s order first,¡¯ she said breezily, picking up the menu. She selected a few dishes while I sat there, expressionless.


    After she was done, she looked at me. ¡®Aren¡¯t you going to choose anything?¡¯


    ¡®Just get on with it. I don¡¯t want to waste any more time on you than I have to.¡¯


    She gave a soft, mockingugh. ¡®Mirabelle, don¡¯t you find your life... painful these days? It must be. Marrying Ashton hasn¡¯t made you happy, has it?¡¯


    A cold knot of pain twisted in my stomach, but I kept my expression carefully nk.


    ¡®Like I said, he only married you out of gratitude. What he feels for you isn¡¯t love. Why cling to a man who doesn¡¯t truly love you?¡¯ She looked at me with an air of superiority. ¡®My advice? Divorce him.¡¯

 Chapter 323 Whose Side Is He On?

    <h4>Chapter 323: Chapter 323 Whose Side Is He On?</h4>


    ¡®No,¡¯ I said tly.


    ¡®Even if he doesn¡¯t love you?¡¯


    ¡®Even if. And I¡¯m pretty sure as long as I don¡¯t bring it up, Ashton never will either. That means you¡¯ll never get to marry him and be Mrs Laurent. You can waste your whole life waiting.¡¯ I looked straight at Genevieve, allowing a hint of triumph into my voice. ¡®How does it feel? To hate me but bepletely powerless?¡¯


    ¡®What¡¯s the point, Mirabelle? What do you gain by clinging to Ashton like this? You¡¯re making everyone miserable¡ªyou, him, and me. Just name your price. What will it take for you to leave him? I¡¯ll do my best to meet it. I just want Ashton.¡¯ Her tone had grown colder.


    ¡®I¡¯ve told you already. Don¡¯t waste your time dreaming. I will never divorce Ashton.¡¯


    Genevieve¡¯sposure finally cracked. ¡®You know what I¡¯m capable of. You¡¯ve seen it first-hand. Next time, I¡¯ll make sure the shooter doesn¡¯t miss.¡¯


    ¡®You mean the one who almost killed the man you im to love?¡¯ I gave a dryugh. ¡®Maybe hire someone who can actually aim. And don¡¯t forget, Ashton will always protect me. He would never let any real harme to me. You should know that better than anyone.¡¯


    ¡®Is that so?¡¯ Her lips curled into a sneer. ¡®What about when he¡¯s in my bed, telling me he loves me?¡¯


    My hands clenched into fists under the table, but I kept my face neutral, my eyes fixed on her with icy mockery. ¡®I¡¯ll bother being jealous when he actually sleeps with you. Right now, am I supposed to be jealous of some lovestruck lunatic¡¯s fantasy? Please. The line of women who want my husband stretches from here to the next district. Who do you think you are?¡¯ My gaze was pure scorn.


    ¡®You¡ª!¡¯ She clearly hadn¡¯t expected me to be so unmoved.


    ¡®Did you go to all this trouble just to tell me that?¡¯ I raised an eyebrow. ¡®If this is all you wanted to say, you can save your breath. Don¡¯t bother seeking me out again. I will never divorce Ashton. Not now, not ever.¡¯


    ¡®What do you possibly gain from this? He doesn¡¯t love you.¡¯


    ¡®I gain the satisfaction of knowing you¡¯ll never be Mrs Laurent, no matter how desperate you are to be her.¡¯ I smiled triumphantly.


    Genevieve¡¯s eyes shed. Suddenly, she grabbed the ss of water from the table and threw it in her own face.


    I stared. Had shepletely lost her mind? I¡¯d expected her to throw it at me.


    ¡®What is wrong with you?¡¯


    No sooner had the words left my mouth than Ashton arrived.


    It clicked then. Genevieve must have seen himing.


    ¡®Ashton! Your wife... she warned me to stay away from you. She told me to leave you alone, and when I refused, she threw water in my face! Thank god it was only tepid, or I might have been scarred!¡¯ Genevieve clutched at his arm.


    Her hair was soaked, wet strands clinging to her cheeks. She looked genuinely pitiful, and with that wounded act she was putting on, anyone who didn¡¯t know better would have believed her.


    Ashton¡¯s eyes found mine.


    I stared back, defiant and silent.


    Neither of us spoke.


    I wasn¡¯t going to say a word. I wanted to see how he would handle this.


    ¡®Ashton... I just... I never thought she¡¯d be so aggressive. To do it here, in public... I...¡¯ Her voice wavered, and her eyes welled up with tears. She looked utterly pathetic.


    Ashton¡¯s brow furrowed. He reached over and picked up the ss of water in front of me. I watched him, my own expression tight.


    Did he believe her?


    What was he going to do?


    Get revenge for her?


    ¡®You threw this at her?¡¯ Ashton held the ss, his voice cold as he nced at Genevieve¡¯s damp state and then back at me.


    ¡®I¡ª¡¯ I began, but he cut me off.


    ¡®I didn¡¯t see how you did it. Here, show me. Do it again.¡¯


    My eyes widened in utter disbelief. Was he serious?


    Genevieve¡¯s face paled with panic. ¡®Ashton!¡¯


    ¡®Well?¡¯ He pressed the ss into my hand.


    ¡®Fine. If you insist.¡¯ If that¡¯s what he wanted, why wouldn¡¯t I?


    I took the ss and threw the water straight into Genevieve¡¯s face. ¡®There. You wanted to tattle to Ashton, didn¡¯t you? Well, now I¡¯ve given you something real toin about. Go on, tell him.¡¯


    ¡®I... You...¡¯ Genevieve was shaking with anger, speechless. Then she turned a pitiful gaze toward Ashton. ¡®Ash, look... your wife, she¡¯s bullying me, she¡ª¡¯


    ¡®So what if she did? If she feels you deserve it, that¡¯s all the reason I need. Shall I pour the next ss myself, or are you done making a spectacle?¡¯


    He took my hand and pulled me away.


    <fnc484> Official source is ?ovelFind</fnc484>


    ¡®Hey, let go of me!¡¯ I wasn¡¯t about to be cated so easily.


    What happened before wasn¡¯t something a few words could smooth over.


    I wrenched my hand free.


    ¡®You¡¯re mad?¡¯


    ¡®What was your first clue?¡¯ I scoffed.


    Ashton frowned, his eyes searching mine. ¡®If something¡¯s bothering you, you can talk to me about it.¡¯


    ¡®Nothing¡¯s bothering me. I just wish you¡¯d handle your... admirers yourself. Keep them away from me.¡¯ I spat the words out, then turned to leave.


    Ashton caught up with me, and tried to take my hand again.


    I shook him off in disgust. ¡®Don¡¯t touch me with the same hands that have been all over another woman.¡¯


    His frown deepened. ¡®What are you talking about? What¡¯s going on in your head? What did Genevieve say to you?¡¯

 Chapter 324 Say Goodbye And Find A Better One

    <h4>Chapter 324: Chapter 324 Say Goodbye And Find A Better One</h4>


    ¡®What did she say to me? Don¡¯t you already know the answer? Some things are pretty obvious, Ashton. Don¡¯t treat me like I¡¯m stupid. I might not be as clever as you, but I¡¯m not aplete fool,¡¯ I said, my voice cold.


    I couldn¡¯t decipher the look he gave me. ¡®Some things aren¡¯t what they seem.¡¯


    ¡®Doesn¡¯t matter anymore.¡¯ I swallowed hard, a bitter smile touching my lips. ¡®Looks like I expected too much. I should¡¯ve been grateful for what I had, instead of asking for more. I need to get to work.¡¯


    I walked away, not looking back.


    He still wouldn¡¯t tell me the truth. He knew I knew. He knew I¡¯d reached out to Naomi. So why was he staying silent?


    Back at the studio, I was quiet and withdrawn, wrapped in a cloud of gloom. Priya had the sense not to ask what was wrong.


    I drifted through the rest of the day in a daze, and after work, I went straight to Yvaine¡¯s.


    Ashton said he¡¯d only allow me one night away, but since when did I have to obey him? I wasn¡¯t his employee. Or his servant.


    Yvaine brought back some pastries and insisted on cooking dinner.


    I have to say, for a wealthy socialite, her cooking skills are... not exactly impressive. Honestly, anything moreplicated than noodles is wasted on her.


    But she¡¯s my best friend, and she went to the effort for me, so what could I do but eat it and try to look grateful?


    My stomach paid the price afterwards, and between that and how tired I felt, I ended up lying down early.


    I checked my phone. No calls from Ashton. I smiled bitterly to myself. What did I expect?


    I tossed the phone aside. ¡®Yvaine, do you really think I should divorce him?¡¯


    Yvaine knows me well. In rtionships, betrayal is the one thing I can¡¯t stand. I didn¡¯t even hate Rhys as much, because I always knew he still had feelings for Catherine.


    But Ashton was different. He was the one who pursued me. He said he loved me first. He insisted on marrying me. He nned every step, turned our contract marriage into a real one.


    There¡¯s no doubt he loves me.


    So why would he lie to me for another woman?


    I couldn¡¯t make sense of it. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got, and the more divorce seemed like the only answer.


    But then it hit me. ¡®If I divorce him, doesn¡¯t that just give Genevieve exactly what she wants? Why should I make her happy? Why should she get what she¡¯s after?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re being silly. Why punish yourself for someone else¡¯s mistakes? Forget that Genevieve woman for a second. Just ask yourself¡ªare you happy with him? If you¡¯re not, why force yourself to stay? Of course you should leave. Who cares what happens after? If he¡¯s not your man anymore, why worry about who ends up with him?¡¯ Yvaine looked at me like I was a hopeless case. ¡®Why can¡¯t you be more like me? If a man isn¡¯t treating you right, just say goodbye and find a better one. I¡¯m getting tired of repeating this¡ªplenty of fish in the sea.¡¯


    I shook my head. ¡®Thanks, but I could never be like you. You change boyfriends so fast I can¡¯t even remember their names. I prefer something stable. Something long-term.¡¯


    ¡®Fine. But that doesn¡¯t have to mean Ashton. You can find someone else for a stable, long-term thing.¡¯ She winked. ¡®My brother Emmett¡¯s avable, you know.¡¯


    ¡®No thanks,¡¯ I said. ¡®I¡¯m not nearly good enough for your brother.¡¯


    Emmett had the face of a film star but the personality of a stern headmaster.


    Even Yvaine, who was fearless in every other situation, turned into a total mouse around him. Thanks to her, I always felt slightly on edge around Emmett too, as if I were just one step away from doing something wrong and getting a lecture.


    Yvaine wasn¡¯t ready to give up. ¡®Oh, don¡¯t say no so fast. My brother¡¯s a real catch. I know it sounds like I¡¯m just boasting because we¡¯re rted, but it¡¯s true. He doesn¡¯t sleep around. Okay, so he¡¯s a bit serious and old-fashioned, but I can guarantee he doesn¡¯t have some clingy childhood sweetheart or obsessive ex like Genevieve lurking around.¡¯


    ¡®Thanks, but no. Someone like your brother deserves a much better woman. I¡¯m not right for him.¡¯


    Yvaine pouted. ¡®Well then, who ARE you right for? Ashton? Do you really love him that much? Even more than you loved Rhys?¡¯


    I nodded. ¡®I love him more than I ever loved Rhys.¡¯


    The truth was, apart from this whole Genevieve mess, I couldn¡¯t find a single thing wrong with Ashton.


    ¡®You... damn it, fine.¡¯ Yvaine sighed. ¡®Then you should talk to him properly. Be open and honest. Just ask him straight out whether he can cut ties with that Genevieve and start being truthful with you. If he can, stay with him. If he can¡¯t, leave. It¡¯s better to make a clean break than to drag it out.¡¯


    It was the most reasonable advice she could have given.


    I knew Yvaine was right. But what if I asked him, and I didn¡¯t like what he had to say?


    I¡¯d never felt this insecure before. Love really does make you vulnerable.


    Yvaine muttered under her breath, ¡®So much for Emmett¡¯s chances.¡¯


    The doorbell rang.


    <fn5825> ???s ??????? ?s ?????? ?? fin?novel</fn5825>


    ¡®Who¡¯s that at this hour?¡¯ Yvaine frowned as she got up and went downstairs to answer it.


    When she didn¡¯te back up after a while, I went out to see. ¡®Who is it?¡¯

 Chapter 325 Not Ready For A Child

    <h4>Chapter 325: Chapter 325 Not Ready For A Child</h4>


    ¡®It¡¯s me.¡¯ Ashton¡¯s voice reached me first. A secondter, he appeared on the staircasending.


    Yvaine was close behind him, sounding flustered. ¡®I told you you can¡¯t just barge in!¡¯


    I looked up at his familiar face. ¡®What are you doing here?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m here to take my wife home.¡¯ He scooped me up into his arms.


    I was already in my pyjamas. Embarrassed, I pushed against his chest. ¡®Let me go! My friend¡¯s right here. What do you think you¡¯re doing?¡¯


    Ashton turned his head.


    Yvaine was standing a few paces away, arms crossed. She looked at me. ¡®Just say the word, Mira. I¡¯ve got pepper spray.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re going to let her spray me?¡¯ Ashton asked.


    ¡®I...¡¯ I shook my head. ¡®No.¡¯


    ¡®Then let¡¯s go home.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t want to go home. Put me down.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not putting you down unless you agree toe home with me.¡¯ Without waiting for a reply, Ashton simply carried me downstairs.


    As we passed Yvaine, she caught my eye. I shook my head faintly.


    She shook hers in return. ¡®You¡¯re hopeless.¡¯


    Then she called after Ashton¡¯s retreating back, ¡®If you ever hurt Mirabelle, Ashton, I¡¯ll find her a better man who can actually appreciate her! You¡¯re receable, you know!¡¯


    ¡®You won¡¯t get the chance,¡¯ Ashton replied coolly.


    Downstairs, he bundled me into the passenger seat of his car, fastened my seatbelt, then rounded the bo and slid into the driver¡¯s seat, starting the engine without dy.


    Thank god he¡¯d driven himself. If his chauffeur had seen me like this, I would have died of embarrassment.


    I turned in the passenger seat to look at him. ¡®I already told you, I¡¯m staying with Yvaine for a few days. And barging into someone¡¯s house thiste at night doesn¡¯t exactly leave a good impression, you know.¡¯


    I was about to say more when Ashton cut me off. ¡®I don¡¯t care what kind of impression I make on her. I only care about having my wife beside me when I go to sleep.¡¯


    ¡®Do you really need that?¡¯ I asked, my voice heavy with sarcasm.


    ¡®You are my wife,¡¯ he said, turning his head just enough to pin me with a firm, unyielding look.


    There was a time when those words would have made my heart swell with joy. Now, hearing him call me his wife just felt hollow, even painful.


    I turned away to stare out the window.


    ¡®What did Genevieve say to you today?¡¯ Ashton asked.


    ¡®What do you think?¡¯ I replied tly. ¡®She told me to leave you. To divorce you.¡¯


    ¡®Damn her,¡¯ he said, his voice cold. ¡®And what did you say?¡¯


    ¡®I said I wouldn¡¯t do it in a million years.¡¯


    ¡®Good.¡¯


    ¡®Why would I? Just to make things easier for her? I told her as long as I live and breathe, she¡¯ll never be Mrs Laurent.¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s voice turned dangerously low. ¡®So you¡¯re only staying out of spite?¡¯


    ¡®What, do YOU want a divorce? Honestly, Ashton, if you¡¯d just¡ª¡¯


    ¡®No. I will never ask for one. And don¡¯t you dare think about it either.¡¯ His words were final.


    When we got home, I went straight for a shower, then got into bed.


    Ashton slid under the covers after his own shower, and I immediately turned my back to him.


    He reached out and pulled me firmly against his chest.


    ¡®I¡¯m tired,¡¯ I said.


    ¡®That¡¯s alright. You sleep. I¡¯ll take care of things,¡¯ he murmured, his low voice rough near my ear.


    A momentter, his lips found mine.


    I stiffened, my whole body going tense as I stared wide-eyed at his handsome, frustrating face.


    I could feel his body responding, and his warm hands were already beginning to roam restlessly over me.


    Damn it.


    I was furious.


    What did he think he was doing?


    Did he feel guilty? Was this his way of making it up to me?


    I pushed hard against his chest. ¡®It¡¯ste. We should sleep.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s still early,¡¯ he countered, his eyes dark with wanting.


    ¡®I¡¯m tired.¡¯ I turned away again.


    Ashton let out a slow breath. ¡®Then get some rest.¡¯


    He held me closer and said softly near my ear, ¡®But remember¡ªwe¡¯re husband and wife. It¡¯s time we started a family.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not ready for a child,¡¯ I said, my voice distant and cool.


    He paused. ¡®Alright. We can wait. It¡¯s your call.¡¯


    Once more, he drew me against him.


    I didn¡¯t respond, just closed my eyes andy still.


    <fn960d> Follow current nov?ls on find?novel</fn960d>


    Neither of us mentioned what Genevieve had done.


    The next morning, we ate breakfast in silence.


    The air between us was stiff and heavy, so much so that even Carmen and Geoffrey could tell something was wrong.


    When I got to the studio, I couldn¡¯t focus. My mind kept drifting, and my chest felt tight.


    I didn¡¯t know what was wrong with me, why I felt so restless and distracted.


    Was it because of Ashton?


    Is this what love does? Always leaving you uneasy, always afraid of losing something you¡¯re not even sure you have.


    My phone rang.


    I thought it might be Ashton, but it was Rhys.


    ¡®Him again?¡¯ I really didn¡¯t want to answer, especially after the bad news hisst call had brought.


    But I wasn¡¯t an ostrich. I couldn¡¯t just bury my head in the sand.


    I sighed and picked up. ¡®What?¡¯


    ¡®Mirabelle. I assume you¡¯ve had time to think about Ashton and Genevieve,¡¯ Rhys began, straight to the point.


    ¡®So? What¡¯s it to you?¡¯


    ¡®Have lunch with me. There¡¯s something else you need to hear.¡¯ Of course. He was just the messenger, again.


    ¡®Whatever it is, tell me now.¡¯ I had no intention of seeing him.


    ¡®Oh, I think you¡¯ll want to hear this in person.¡¯


    He sounded smug, like he already knew I¡¯d give in.


    Damn him. As my ex-fianc¨¦, Rhys still knew me too well. He knew I couldn¡¯t just pretend some things weren¡¯t happening.


    By noon, we were once again sitting in the restaurant across the street.


    When ordering, Rhys chose all my favourite dishes.


    I looked at him coolly. ¡®You can talk now.¡¯

 Chapter 326 How Can He Still Be Alive?

    <h4>Chapter 326: Chapter 326 How Can He Still Be Alive?</h4>


    ¡®Eat something first.¡¯ He used the serving spoon to heap a generous portion of seafood linguine onto my te. ¡®Look at you, you¡¯ve lost weight. I don¡¯t get it. He¡¯s hurt you this badly. Why are you still with him? Is it just to spite me? Even if it is, hasn¡¯t it gone on long enough?¡¯ His frown was full of what looked like genuine concern.


    ¡®Rhys, I don¡¯t have all day. If you¡¯re not going to talk, I¡¯m leaving.¡¯ I wasn¡¯t in the mood for his games.


    ¡®You always were stubborn.¡¯ He sighed. ¡®Look, I know I wasn¡¯t a good man. When I was with you, my heart was still with Catherine. I was cold to you. I admit all that. But it takes one to know one. And because I¡¯ve been there, I understand what Ashton¡¯s doing. His behaviour over Genevieve speaks for itself. He¡¯s hiding things from you for another woman¡¯s sake. Whatever his reasons are, whatever excuses he might have, the fact is, he lied. He betrayed you. How is that any different from when I was seeing Catherine behind your back?¡¯


    I wanted to argue, to yell that Ashton wasn¡¯t like him, that at least he¡¯d never pped me over a mug that belonged to Genevieve.


    But even to my own ears, it sounded like a weak defence.


    Rhys went on, ¡®When you truly love someone, you don¡¯t hold back. It should be all or nothing. Like... like how you were with me.¡¯


    I looked away. Being reminded of how much I¡¯d once loved¡ªno, worshipped¡ªRhys was like revisiting my most embarrassing history. I didn¡¯t want to think about it. It just reminded me what a fool I¡¯d been.


    ¡®It took me a long time to realise that,¡¯ Rhys said softly. ¡®Mirabelle, I truly regret what I did. Can¡¯t we start over?¡¯


    I frowned at him. ¡®Rhys, what¡¯s the point of all this? You know I don¡¯t love you anymore. So don¡¯t bother trying to talk me into leaving Ashton for you. If that¡¯s all you wanted, you¡¯ve wasted your time. I¡¯m leaving.¡¯ I stood up to go.


    ¡®Your father,¡¯ Rhys blurted out.


    I froze. ¡®What about my father?¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s not dead.¡¯


    I stared at him in disbelief. ¡®How is that possible? He died in prison. Ashton told me himself.¡¯


    ¡®And Ashton wasn¡¯t lying,¡¯ Rhys said. ¡®At least, not back then. But the prison made a mistake. The man they thought was Franklin Vance was someone else. There was a mix-up in the records when they rushed him to hospital.¡¯


    I sank back into my chair. ¡®I don¡¯t understand.¡¯


    ¡®Neither do I,¡¯ Rhys admitted. ¡®All I know is, Franklin¡¯s not in prison anymore. And he¡¯s not dead.¡¯


    ¡®How do you know this?¡¯


    Rhys gave a bitter smile. ¡®You know my old man disowned me?¡¯


    I nodded.


    ¡®He¡¯s fawning over his bastard son Daniel now. Doesn¡¯t give a damn about me. But at least my mum still cares whether I live or die. I went back to see her, and I overheard my father talking about Franklin in his study.¡¯


    I leaned forward. ¡®What else did you hear?¡¯


    Rhys shook his head. ¡®That¡¯s all. The door was thick. I couldn¡¯t make out every word. Didn¡¯t know who he was talking to, maybe on the phone, maybe someone was with him. But I caught enough to know Franklin¡¯s alive and out.¡¯


    ¡®Where is he now?¡¯


    ¡®No idea. I wanted to ask, but the old man wouldn¡¯t even look at me.¡¯ He sneered. ¡®Then Daniel came upstairs and I had to leave.¡¯


    My mind was reeling. My father was still alive? How could that be? How could the prison mess up that badly?


    I was still trying to process it when Rhys added, ¡®I thought you should know. Especially since you¡¯re the reason he went down. I was worried he mighte after you.¡¯


    He was right, in a way. Well, partly. It was actually Ashton who¡¯d arranged Franklin¡¯s arrest, but he¡¯d only done it for me.


    ¡®I don¡¯t think that¡¯ll happen,¡¯ I said, though I wasn¡¯t sure I believed it.


    After all, growing up, Franklin had never paid me much attention. He¡¯d always wanted a son, and when Caroline only gave him daughters, he¡¯d rather dote on his nephew than look at me.


    Still, I refused to believe he¡¯d want to hurt me.


    Rhys said something else, but I¡¯d stopped listening.


    I knew who I should call to check if this was true. If Franklin was really out, the first person he¡¯d contact would be Caroline.


    But I didn¡¯t have her number anymore, and I had no idea where she was living now.


    Besides, she hated my guts. She¡¯d never tell me even if I asked.


    I was so lost in thought that I didn¡¯t hear Rhys until he raised his voice. ¡®Mirabelle?¡¯


    ¡®What?¡¯ I looked up.


    ¡®You alright?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m fine.¡¯ I wasn¡¯t.


    I nced at the food on my te, but my appetite was gone. I asked for the bill and stood. ¡®Thanks for telling me. I have to go.¡¯


    ¡®I understand.¡¯ This time, Rhys didn¡¯t try to stop me.


    I didn¡¯t go back to the studio. My head was spinning, and I needed to walk, to think.


    I wandered aimlessly down the street, turning at random, not stopping until I reached a park.


    I sat on a bench facing theke and watched the ducks gliding across the water.


    My father was still alive?


    I didn¡¯t know what to feel.


    He¡¯d neglected me as a child, tried to use my marriage as a business opportunity, basically tried to pimp me out for connections. I hadn¡¯t felt a single regret when I heard he¡¯d been jailed.


    But still...


    <fn00fc> Th? link to the orig?n of this information r?sts ?n find¡¤novel</fn00fc>


    ¡®Mirabelle. What a surprise.¡¯


    All thoughts of Franklin vanished at the sound of that voice.


    ¡®She just doesn¡¯t give up,¡¯ I muttered to myself, standing and turning to face Genevieve.


    ¡®I thought it was you,¡¯ she said. ¡®I had to get out of the car to be sure. What are you doing here? You look upset.¡¯


    She looked pleased about it.


    Right now, I had no energy for anyone, least of all her.


    I turned to leave.


    ¡®Hey, have you thought any more about our conversation?¡¯ she called after me.


    I lifted a hand behind my back and gave her the finger.


    Taking a random turn, I followed a tree-lined trail away from her.


    But luck wasn¡¯t on my side today. After a while, I found myself back at theke, just further along the shore.


    Genevieve was nowhere in sight, but the ducks were still there, dipping and diving.


    I walked closer to the water¡¯s edge, watching them. Were they mards?


    I patted my pockets out of habit, checking for something to feed them, but I never carried breadcrumbs. Why would I?


    I didn¡¯t hear the footsteps behind me.


    Not until I felt a sudden, violent shove between my shoulder des.


    I stumbled forward. My arms, trapped in my pockets, couldn¡¯t break my fall.


    I plunged headfirst into the cold, murky water.

 Chapter 327 Ashton’s POV: I Can’t Fail Her Again

    <h4>Chapter 327: Chapter 327 Ashton¡¯s POV: I Can¡¯t Fail Her Again</h4>


    When I reached thekeside, the ce was already crowded with people, and police were everywhere.


    I turned to Harry. ¡®Get divers. As many as possible. Call Cassian and Ryan.¡¯


    ¡®On it, boss.¡¯ Harry nodded.


    I threw off my jacket and plunged straight into the water.


    ¡®Boss!¡¯ Harry shouted.


    The police on the bank yelled; the divers already in theke shouted too. But I didn¡¯t hear any of them.


    I just kept swimming, kept searching.


    Logically, I knew it was useless. The professional divers would find her faster than I ever could. But I couldn¡¯t help myself.


    Thest time Mirabelle had ended up in the water, she¡¯d been terrified. She¡¯d been pushed into a pool, and it brought back all her childhood trauma.


    I¡¯d never forget how she trembled in my arms, how she mumbled, ¡®Help...¡¯


    I hadn¡¯t protected her well enough then.


    I wasn¡¯t going to fail her a second time.


    Straining to keep my eyes open underwater, I scanned for any sign of her, but theke was wide and deep, with thick weeds blocking my view. It was impossible to see far.


    When my lungs felt like they were about to burst, I had to resurface.


    Cassian was on the bank, pointing furiously at theke. ¡®Get up here, Ashton! Are you out of your mind?¡¯


    I shouted back, ¡®Get more divers!¡¯


    Then I went under again, pushing myself to keep looking.


    Eventually, I was forced toe up for air once more, gasping.


    I saw that Ryan Fenty had arrived too, and he¡¯d brought his pregnant wife, Naomi.


    ¡®Ashton?!¡¯ Both Ryan and Naomi stared at me in shock as I treaded water.


    Police officers waded towards me, grumbling, and insisted I return to the bank.


    When I refused, they moved in and physically dragged me out of theke and back onto solid ground.


    One of them said, ¡®I know the missing woman is your wife, and I understand you¡¯re worried. But you jumping in doesn¡¯t help anyone. It only gets in our way.¡¯


    He tossed me a thick towel and turned to Cassian. ¡®You a friend of his?¡¯


    Cassian nodded. ¡®As much as I don¡¯t want to admit it, yeah.¡¯


    ¡®Keep an eye on him. Make sure he stays away from the water, alright?¡¯


    ¡®Leave it to me, officer.¡¯


    ¡®Ashton, what on earth happened? I heard Mirabelle fell into theke?¡¯ Naomi sounded far more anxious than her husband Ryan, who remained calm and was already on the phone.


    I shook my head. ¡®I don¡¯t know.¡¯


    I¡¯d only got the call from the police fifteen minutes earlier. All they told me was that someone had phoned in saying they¡¯d seen a person jump, and a phone left on a bench suggested it might be Mirabelle.


    Soon, boats appeared on theke¡ªsearch teams called in by Cassian, Harry, and Ryan.


    I started toward the water again, but Cassian yanked me back.


    ¡®Don¡¯t even think about it!¡¯ he shouted. ¡®The water¡¯s freezing! If you carry on like this, you¡¯ll freeze to death before we find her. And if you¡¯re dead, who¡¯s going to save your wife?¡¯


    Cassian alone couldn¡¯t have held me back, but with Ryan, Harry, and several police officers blocking my path, I had no choice.


    I stood on the shore, tense and useless, as the search dragged on.


    Naomi gripped Ryan¡¯s hand tightly. ¡®Do you think something¡¯s happened to Mirabelle?¡¯


    Ryan held her close. ¡®Don¡¯t think like that. How about I take you home? I¡¯ll call you the second we hear anything. You shouldn¡¯t be standing out here in the cold.¡¯


    ¡®No. I don¡¯t want to go.¡¯


    ¡®Then at least wait in the car,¡¯ Ryan coaxed gently. ¡®You need to rest. It¡¯s not good for the baby.¡¯


    Naomi rubbed her lower back and finally relented. ¡®Alright. But promise you¡¯ll tell me immediately if there¡¯s news.¡¯


    ¡®I promise. The second I know anything.¡¯


    Watching them, my heart ached all over again for Mirabelle.


    I refused to believe she would take her own life, or that she¡¯d slipped in by ident. She wasn¡¯t careless like that.


    But there were no cameras near theke, and the police still hadn¡¯t found any witnesses. The call had been anonymous, and the number was no longer answering.


    I knew she was mad at me, but she wouldn¡¯t punish me by taking her own life. That simply wasn¡¯t her.


    I knew she thought I was protecting Genevieve, that Genevieve was behind everything.


    I knew she was waiting for me toe clean, to apologise, to exin.


    But I couldn¡¯t exin, not until I knew the whole truth myself.


    The search continued all day.


    ¡®Maybe we should call it off, don¡¯t you think?¡¯ Cassian finally said what everyone was thinking: if something had happened to Mirabelle, by now it was almost certainly toote.


    ¡®What if someone pulled her out?¡¯ Ryan suggested carefully when he saw the stormy look on my face.


    ¡®If that happened, wouldn¡¯t we have heard by now? Besides, no one¡¯se forward saying they saw anyone rescue her, have they?¡¯ Cassian said bluntly.


    <fn9f9d> ?? ??? ???? ?? ???? ???? ???????s, ????s? ??s?? f¦É?dn¦Ïvel</fn9f9d>


    The air had turned bitterly cold. Between the chill wind and my earlier dip in theke, I was shivering uncontrobly.


    ¡®Why don¡¯t you at least go change into dry clothes?¡¯ Ryan suggested for what felt like the tenth time.


    I shook my head.


    As evening drew in, theke grew darker and even colder.


    ¡®Let¡¯s go back. Standing here waiting isn¡¯t helping anyone,¡¯ Cassian said gently.


    I swayed on my feet.


    ¡®Ashton!¡¯


    Someone shouted my name just as everything went ck.


    ***


    I woke up in hospital.


    Cassian let out a heavy sigh of relief. Before I could even ask, he said, ¡®I know what you¡¯re going to say. The answer¡¯s no¡ªthey still haven¡¯t found her.¡¯


    Iy there for a moment, my head pounding, my temples throbbing. My whole body was burning up with fever.


    ¡®Where¡¯s Harry?¡¯ I asked, my voice rough.


    ¡®Outside, making calls. Want me to get him?¡¯


    I nodded.


    When Harry came in, I told him, ¡®Put out a reward. Anyone with information about Mirabelle, tell them to call immediately. There¡¯ll be a ten¡ªno, make it twenty¡ªthere¡¯ll be a twenty-million-dor reward.¡¯


    Harry nodded. ¡®I¡¯ll get it done straight away.¡¯


    ¡®Wait,¡¯ I said.


    Harry paused.


    ¡®Also, check all the hospitals. See if there¡¯s any record of Mirabelle being admitted. If someone pulled her out, they¡¯d likely take her to A&E. And keep the search teams on theke going.¡¯


    ¡®Understood.¡¯


    After he left, Cassian said, ¡®Now we wait. You should try to eat something. If you copse too, who¡¯s going to lead the search for Mirabelle?¡¯


    I shook my head.


    Some timeter, Harry returned to tell me he¡¯d already put the notice out. No one had called yet. He¡¯d also checked the hospitals¡ªno sign of Mirabelle being admitted.


    Morning came and went. Still no news.


    I told Harry to get my release paperwork.


    ¡®No!¡¯ Cassian blocked the door. ¡®I¡¯ll tie you to the bed if I have to. You jumping back into thatke isn¡¯t helping. It¡¯s not going to find her. Even if you spent days in there, it wouldn¡¯t make a difference.¡¯


    I ignored him.


    He sighed. ¡®Ashton, you can¡¯t throw your life away over a woman. What good will that do?¡¯


    I was quiet for a long time before I finally said, ¡®I need some time alone.¡¯


    ¡®Fine. I¡¯ll be right outside. Don¡¯t try anything stupid. This is the fifth floor. You can¡¯t climb out the window.¡¯

 Chapter 328 Missing For Two Days

    <h4>Chapter 328: Chapter 328 Missing For Two Days</h4>


    I drifted in and out of consciousness, my whole body burning as if on fire, my throat so parched it felt like it was full of sand.


    ¡®Mirabelle. Mirabelle...¡¯ A man¡¯s voice reached me, familiar yet strange in that hazy moment.


    Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. I felt utterly wretched.


    ¡®Mirabelle, Mirabelle... wake up... you¡¯re having a nightmare,¡¯ the same male voice urged. Then, to someone else, ¡®Doctor, how is she?¡¯


    Another voice answered, ¡®Physically, she¡¯s stable. The main issue is her mind.¡¯ The speaker sighed. ¡®Once the fever breaks, the nightmares will cease and she¡¯ll wake up properly. She¡¯ll be fine.¡¯


    ¡®I see. Thank you, Doctor.¡¯


    I drifted off again.


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    The next time I woke, the sky was just beginning to lighten.


    My head was throbbing painfully, and my throat hurt so much it felt like swallowing ss.


    I shifted my still feverish and aching body, and the figure slumped beside me stirred and sat up.


    ¡®You¡¯re awake?¡¯ He looked at me with bloodshot eyes.


    I stared nkly. ¡®Rhys?¡¯


    My mind was still foggy, everything feeling like a distant dream.


    Rhys quickly got up. ¡®You must be thirsty. Let me get you some water.¡¯


    He disappeared and returned with a ss of warm water. He helped me sit up, supporting me against his chest, and held the ss to my lips.


    ¡®I... I can do it,¡¯ I said.


    We¡¯d broken up. I wasn¡¯tfortable with this level of intimacy anymore, and I¡¯d grown unused to his scent.


    It only made me think of Ashton¡ªhis smell, his presence.


    Besides, the old Rhys had never been this thoughtful or caring.


    ¡®What¡¯s wrong?¡¯ he asked, concerned. ¡®You¡¯re frowning. Are you in pain?¡¯


    I shook my head, sat up properly to free myself from his hold, and took the ss from him. I drank half of it in one go. It helped, but my throat still ached.


    ¡®You saved me?¡¯ I asked after putting the ss down.


    He nodded. ¡®After you left the restaurant, you seemed really out of it. I was worried, so I followed you. I never expected you to just... fall into the water.¡¯


    I tried hard to piece things together. ¡®You saw me fall? Did you see who pushed me?¡¯


    Rhys¡¯s eyes widened. ¡®Someone pushed you? I didn¡¯t see anything.¡¯


    ¡®You didn¡¯t?¡¯


    He shook his head. ¡®No.¡¯ After a pause, he added, a bit awkwardly, ¡®To be honest, I didn¡¯t even realise it was you at first. After you left the restaurant, I didn¡¯t follow. I knew you didn¡¯t want me around. I was driving home and cut through the park as a shortcut. That¡¯s when I heard a ssh. I stopped and ran over¡ªall I saw were hands struggling in the water. I didn¡¯t think, I just jumped in. It wasn¡¯t until I pulled you out that I realised it was you.¡¯


    I listened carefully, frowning as I tried to remember. ¡®How long was I out?¡¯


    ¡®Two days.¡¯


    I looked around. This didn¡¯t look like a hospital. ¡®Where are we?¡¯


    ¡®My ce. I bought it after I moved out of the family home.¡¯


    He went on to exin, ¡®I was going to take you to the hospital, but this was closer, and my neighbour to the left is a doctor. So I brought you here and let Dr Gould look after you. I hope you don¡¯t mind.¡¯


    I shook my head, which made the throbbing worse. ¡®No, of course not. You saved me. I should be thanking you.¡¯


    Even though my mind was still buzzing with questions.


    I nced around. ¡®Where¡¯s my phone?¡¯


    I¡¯d been missing for two days. Ashton and Yvaine were probably worried sick.


    Rhys said, ¡®I don¡¯t know. You didn¡¯t have it on you when I pulled you out.¡¯


    I looked down. I was wearing pyjamas.


    Sensing where my thoughts were heading, he added quickly, ¡®Don¡¯t worry, I hired a nurse. She¡¯s the one who changed you.¡¯


    I nodded. ¡®Thank you for saving me. But I should go.¡¯


    ¡®Why the rush? You¡¯ve still got a fever. Thatke was freezing, and who knows how long you were in there. Why not stay until you¡¯ve recovered? Dr Gould can keep an eye on you.¡¯ Rhys watched me closely, almost pleading.


    I shook my head. ¡®No, I need to go. People will be worried.¡¯


    As I threw back the covers and tried to stand, a wave of dizziness hit me, forcing me back onto the bed.


    ¡®See? You¡¯re still weak. How are you going to leave like this?¡¯ Rhys said.


    ¡®Can I at least use your phone, then?¡¯


    ¡®Of course. Who do you want to call?¡¯


    ¡®Ashton.¡¯


    Rhys frowned. ¡®You still want to go back to him?¡¯


    I didn¡¯t answer.


    ¡®Haven¡¯t you seen enough? His heart belongs to someone else¡ªhe doesn¡¯t love you. Mirabelle,e back to me. Let¡¯s start over.¡¯ Rhys reached for my hand.


    I pulled away. ¡®I told you, it¡¯s not going to happen. Are you trying to hold saving me over my head? Is that why you did it?¡¯


    He looked genuinely offended. ¡®Is that what you think of me? That I¡¯m that kind of person? That I¡¯d take advantage of you like this?¡¯


    I met his gaze evenly. ¡®While I was unconscious, did you call Ashton to tell him I was here?¡¯


    He nced away. ¡®Why would I call my rival?¡¯


    ¡®Did you call Yvaine, then?¡¯


    He hesitated. ¡®I was so worried about you, I didn¡¯t get round to it.¡¯


    ¡®Really? So you brought me to your ce and didn¡¯t tell a soul. What would you call that, if not taking advantage?¡¯

 Chapter 329 Go Home

    <h4>Chapter 329: Chapter 329 Go Home</h4>


    Rhys looked ufortable. ¡®Alright, fine. I just... I wanted some time alone with you.¡¯


    He stood, fetched his phone, and handed it to me. ¡®Go on, call.¡¯


    I took the phone, then realised suddenly¡ªI didn¡¯t remember Ashton¡¯s number.


    Who memorises numbers these days anyway?


    I could have looked up LGH¡¯s official number, called through the main line, and asked whoever answered to put me through to their boss.


    But that felt like too much hassle. It would mean going through people I didn¡¯t know, it would take too long, and it would make the whole thing public before I was ready.


    So I called Yvaine instead. Her number, at least, was a palindrome. Easy to remember.


    ¡®Hello? Who¡¯s this?¡¯ Yvaine sounded tired.


    ¡®It¡¯s me, Yvaine.¡¯


    ¡®Mirabelle?¡¯ She swore in pain.


    ¡®What¡¯s wrong?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®Nothing, just smacked my head. Is it really you? You¡¯re alive?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m fine. Can youe and get me?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re not dead? You¡¯re really okay? You... you scared me half to death, you know that? I haven¡¯t closed my eyes in two days. I¡¯ve been going out of my mind...¡¯ Her voice broke, and she began to cry.


    ¡®It¡¯s alright. I¡¯m fine now, don¡¯t worry. Juste and get me, okay?¡¯ My voice was weak and raspy.


    ¡®Yes, yes, of course. Tell me where you are. I¡¯lle right now,¡¯ she said, her words tumbling out betweenughter and tears.


    ¡®Right, the address.¡¯ I looked over at Rhys.


    He took the phone from me and gave Yvaine the address.


    Then he turned to me. ¡®She says she¡¯s on her way.¡¯


    I nodded.


    Rhys left the room, and I got changed.


    I refused his offer of help and slowly made my way downstairs.


    The house was new and tastefully decorated, exactly what you¡¯d expect from Rhys and his good taste.


    Part of me wanted to ask what had happened to the penthouse he used to own¡ªthe one I¡¯d stayed in, the one that was supposed to be our wedding home.


    But I didn¡¯t.


    Sitting on the living room sofa, I tried to piece together everything I could remember from the day I fell into theke, but the harder I tried, the more my head hurt.


    I forced myself to think about something else.


    Rhys sat with me. He looked like he wanted to talk, but I wasn¡¯t in the mood.


    When I heard tyres crunching on the gravel outside, I knew Yvaine had arrived.


    I got up to open the door.


    ¡®What are you doing here?¡¯ Yvaine was just stepping out of her car, talking to someone else.


    I followed her gaze and froze when I saw Ashton getting out of his car.


    ¡®Are you having me followed? Tracking me?¡¯ Yvaine red at Ashton.


    He¡¯d lost weight. His eyes, usually so sharp, were now bloodshot, and he looked pale and worn down, as if a strong wind might knock him over.


    Seeing him like that made my heart ache. My eyes stung, and a heavy, sour feeling settled in my chest.


    ¡®Mirabelle, I swear I didn¡¯t tell him! I had no idea he was having me watched,¡¯ Yvaine turned to me quickly, her voice frantic.


    I gave her a faint, reassuring smile. ¡®I believe you.¡¯


    She hurried over, looked me up and down, then pulled me into a gentle hug. ¡®Look at the state of you. You¡¯re so pale.¡¯


    I patted her back. ¡®I¡¯m alright. Just a bit of a fever. It¡¯s nothing serious.¡¯


    ¡®Let¡¯s go.¡¯


    I nodded, then turned to Rhys. ¡®Thank you again. Goodbye.¡¯


    Rhys just nodded silently.


    Yvaine had never been particrly friendly with Rhys, but this time she only snorted softly and said nothing.


    I¡¯d only taken a couple of steps when Ashton moved forward.


    Before I could speak, Yvaine jumped in front of me, shielding me with her arms as she yelled at Ashton, ¡®What are you doing here? Haven¡¯t you hurt her enough? If no one had pulled her out, she¡¯d be dead at the bottom of thatke right now!¡¯


    Ashton¡¯s brow was furrowed. He didn¡¯t say a word, his eyes fixed on me.


    ¡®I bet you wish she was dead, don¡¯t you? Then you could run off with that poisonous bitch Genevieve without a care. Well, you can pretend she¡¯s dead now! That should free you up nicely!¡¯ Yvaine shook her fist at him.


    A cold intensity radiated from Ashton, enough to make Yvaine hesitate, but she stood her ground. ¡®Don¡¯t you re at me. I¡¯m not scared of you. I¡¯d rather die than let you hurt her again. Mirabelle, let¡¯s go.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m here to take you home, Mira,¡¯ Ashton said quietly, his voice hoarse but his gaze steady on mine.


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    My heart clenched. I bit my lip.


    Yvaine refused to yield. ¡®Don¡¯t go back with him! How can you still believe a word he says? What happens when he hurts you again? When he drives you to jump again? You were lucky this time. Next time you might not be!¡¯


    ¡®Mira...¡¯ Ashton ignored Yvainepletely, as if she weren¡¯t even there. His bloodshot eyes never left mine.


    ¡®Let¡¯s go. Ignore him,¡¯ Yvaine insisted, tugging firmly on my arm, afraid I¡¯d give in.


    I gently pulled my hand free and said softly, ¡®I have to go home eventually.¡¯


    ¡®You still want to go back? You¡¯re not nning to divorce him?¡¯ Yvaine was hopping with frustration. ¡®I swear, your brain must still be feverish. Do you really think this cheater is going to change? He¡ª¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll call youter,¡¯ I said quietly. I knew she was only this angry because she cared.

 Chapter 330 So Be It

    <h4>Chapter 330: Chapter 330 So Be It</h4>


    ¡®Fine. Just make sure you call me if you need anything, okay? And if that absolute bastard gives you any more trouble, you call me too.¡¯ Yvaine shot another venomous look in Ashton¡¯s direction.


    ¡®I know.¡¯


    ¡®Okay, well... just look after yourself. No more jumping intokes, you hear me?¡¯


    ¡®It wasn¡¯t exactly by choice. I¡¯ll exin it all another time. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll be fine. Now go home and get some sleep. I¡¯ll message youter.¡¯ I managed a faint, pale smile.


    ¡®Alright.¡¯ Yvaine sighed in resignation and added onest thing: ¡®You have to be okay.¡¯


    I was nodding again.


    ¡®I¡¯ll watch you go,¡¯ she said with another sigh.


    Ashton swept me up into his arms. ¡®You¡¯ve lost weight,¡¯ he said, his voice rough.


    Hearing him say that, I felt, for some reason, like I might cry.


    I pressed my lips together and stayed silent.


    He carried me to the car, settled me into the passenger seat, and fastened my seatbelt for me. He kissed my forehead, closed the door, got into the driver¡¯s seat, then pulled away.


    He drove with one hand, the other holding mine tightly. He never let go.


    ¡®You¡¯re still feverish. I¡¯m taking you to the hospital.¡¯


    ¡®No. I just need to go home and sleep.¡¯


    ¡®Fine. We¡¯ll go home. I¡¯ll call the doctor toe to us.¡¯


    I closed my eyes and said no more. There must have been sedative in the medicine Dr Gould had given me, because I was asleep before we even got home.


    By the time I woke up, it was already the next morning.


    ¡®Morning. Are you hungry?¡¯ Ashton was looking at me. His face was stubbled and unshaven. He¡¯d probably stayed by my side all night.


    I didn¡¯t answer, just stared nkly at the ceiling.


    How had it only been a few days? It felt like a lifetime.


    Had everything changed, or was it just my world that was different?


    ¡®The doctor came by yesterday, and he¡¯ll be back again soon.¡¯ Ashton reached out and pressed his hand to my forehead, his brows knitting together. ¡®You¡¯re still burning up.¡¯


    I didn¡¯t answer.


    ¡®Are you hungry?¡¯ he asked me again. His voice was soft. ¡®Shall I get Carmen to make you some French toast?¡¯


    I still said nothing.


    ¡®Porridge, then?¡¯


    Silence from me.


    ¡®How about some soup? Would that be alright?¡¯ He kept his eyes on me, waiting.


    ¡®Okay.¡¯ I knew that if I didn¡¯t say something, Ashton would just keep asking, on and on.


    He left the room.


    ¡®Carmen says it¡¯ll take about half an hour. Here, drink some of this.¡¯ He returned holding a ss. He helped me sit up, leaning me against his chest, and held up the straw for me.


    I watched him, breathing in that familiar scent of his. Yes, this was what felt familiar to me. It waspletely different from the way Rhys smelled.


    About halfway through, I shook my head. ¡®No more.¡¯


    ¡®Alright.¡¯ Heid me back down and, in one go, finished the rest of the smoothie himself.


    I frowned as I watched him drink what was left. My heart gave a faint, painful twinge.


    He looked exhausted, his eyes bloodshot and his hair dishevelled.


    Normally, he¡¯d have been at the office hours ago. But he was still here by my side, doing a nurse¡¯s job.


    The truth was, I still cared about him. But I couldn¡¯t bring myself to forgive him.


    This time, Ashton had really and truly broken my heart.


    ¡®Be good and get some more sleep, alright?¡¯ he said gently, tucking the duvet around me.


    I didn¡¯t answer, justy there with my eyes open. I couldn¡¯t sleep. I¡¯d been asleep for so long already.


    Seeing I was wide awake, he asked, ¡®Do you feel like talking?¡¯


    I said calmly, ¡®I didn¡¯t jump. Someone pushed me.¡¯


    He nodded. ¡®I know. I know you aren¡¯t the type to give up on life.¡¯


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    I didn¡¯t look at him. ¡®Have you found out who it was?¡¯


    He shook his head. ¡®Harry and Dominic are still looking into it. The police are too. There aren¡¯t any leads yet. No cameras in that area, and no witnesses. I...¡¯


    I cut him off. ¡®There was someone else there that day.¡¯


    ¡®Who?¡¯


    ¡®Genevieve.¡¯


    Ashton fell into a long silence. ¡®Did she push you in?¡¯


    ¡®I didn¡¯t see.¡¯ I told him what happened: Genevieve approaching me by theke, me walking away, somehow ending up back at the water¡¯s edge, and then someone shoving me from behind.


    ¡®So,¡¯ he said carefully, ¡®when you went back to theke, Genevieve wasn¡¯t actually there. Is that right?¡¯


    I realised then that I¡¯d been wrong, wrong to have let myself hope for so much from him.


    Fine. So be it.


    I closed my eyes. ¡®I¡¯m tired. I want to sleep.¡¯


    He nodded and stood. ¡®I¡¯lle check on youter.¡¯


    I shut my eyes and ignored him.


    Slowly, I actually did drift off to sleep.


    That afternoon, the doctor came by to check on me again.


    My temperature wasing down slowly, and though I was still a bit feverish, it was nothing some paracetamol and plenty of rest and fluids wouldn¡¯t fix.


    Nothing wrong with me, really, just general weakness.


    Hearing that, Ashton finally seemed to rx.


    I took the medicine and drifted in and out of a hazy sleep. At some point, I could make out voices floating up from the living room downstairs.


    ¡®She was absolutely insisting oning to see her. Didn¡¯t have much choice in the matter, I¡¯m afraid,¡¯ said Ryan Fenty, his tone slightly awkward.


    Naomi clearly wasn¡¯t bothered by formalities. ¡®I was worried about Mirabelle. I had to see her. Where did you finally find her, anyway?¡¯


    ¡®A... friend¡¯s house,¡¯ Ashton replied after a brief pause. ¡®Someone pulled her out and took her back to theirs.¡¯


    ¡®Why take her to a house?¡¯ Naomi pressed. ¡®Why not straight to a hospital?¡¯


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    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 331 Over His Dead Body

    <h4>Chapter 331: Chapter 331 Over His Dead Body</h4>


    Ashton was silent for a long moment. ¡®They had a private doctor on hand.¡¯


    ¡®Well, who was it? We absolutely must thank them for saving her,¡¯ Naomi said.


    I almostughed to myself. The idea of Ashton thanking Rhys? Over his dead body.


    ¡®I heard it was that Genevieve again? So what are you going to do about it this time?¡¯ Naomi¡¯s question sounded like a direct challenge, as if she were demanding justice on my behalf.


    I wondered how she knew.


    Apart from Ashton and Yvaine, I hadn¡¯t told anyone that Genevieve was at theke that day. Surely Genevieve hadn¡¯t gone around boasting about it herself.


    Ashton said nothing.


    ¡®Your wife really has been treated poorly in all this,¡¯ Ryan interjected. ¡®We... well, I think you need to have a proper word with Genevieve. Actually, that¡¯s not from me. That¡¯s a message from Cassian.¡¯


    ¡®I will speak to her,¡¯ Ashton said tly.


    ¡®Speak to her? What good will that do? If you ask me, she needs proper punishment, a lesson she won¡¯t forget. Now, I know I might be overstepping here, since we don¡¯t know each other that well, but I like Mirabelle. I consider her a friend, and I have to say it. The way you keep protecting this Genevieve woman makes me absolutely sick,¡¯ Naomi said, her voice thick with disapproval.


    Again, Ashton stayed silent.


    Naomi¡¯s words filled me with a grateful warmth. Ashton¡¯s silence felt like a fresh cut.


    She wasn¡¯t finished. ¡®Ryan Fenty, let me tell you, consider yourself lucky Genevieve never set her sights on you. If I were Mirabelle, and my husband treated me like this, I¡¯d have divorced him long ago. I just don¡¯t get it, Ashton. How can you so tantly take another woman¡¯s side? You don¡¯t deserve Mirabelle.¡¯ Naomi was properly angry now. ¡®Why she chooses to stay with you is beyond me.¡¯


    She was right. I was a fool. Aplete idiot.


    Why? Why did I keep letting him hurt me, over and over, and still not find the strength to walk away?


    It was pathetic, really.


    I slowly got out of bed, left the room, and made my way down the stairs. ¡®Naomi.¡¯


    ¡®Oh, Mirabelle! You really... you gave me such a fright. You¡¯ve no idea how worried I was.¡¯ Naomi rushed over to take my hands as I reached the bottom step. Her voice caught in her throat, and her eyes were glistening.


    I managed a small smile. ¡®I¡¯m alright. See? I¡¯m fine. Thank you foring.¡¯


    ¡®If you¡¯re fine, why didn¡¯t you call me? I would¡¯vee to get you. You could¡¯ve stayed with us,¡¯ Naomi scolded gently, her voice full of concern. ¡®I¡¯ve been worried sick.¡¯


    ¡®I was out of it for a while. As soon as I woke up, I called my friend toe and get me,¡¯ I exined.


    ¡®Well, next time something happens, you call me, okay? Promise me,¡¯ she insisted.


    ¡®My phone wasn¡¯t with me, and I couldn¡¯t remember your number. The only one I know by heart is my friend¡¯s, because it¡¯s a palindrome. I promise, I¡¯ll memorise your number too, and then I¡¯ll call you next time I get in trouble, alright?¡¯


    ¡®Okay. Any trouble with work or...¡¯ Naomi threw a pointed look at Ashton. ¡®At home, youe to me. Come stay at our house. I¡¯ll personally keep him from getting through the door. I¡¯ll always be on your side.¡¯


    ¡®Okay,¡¯ I said with a grateful nod.


    We hadn¡¯t known each other long, but Naomi¡¯s straightforward nature and genuine warmth made me certain we were going to be friends for life.


    Plus, she and Yvaine both seemed to enjoy giving Ashton a hard time. They¡¯d probably get on like a house on fire.


    Ashton shot a look at Ryan, who walked over to his wife and helped her up. ¡®Right then, we should be off.¡¯


    ¡®What¡¯s the rush? We just got here. I¡¯ve been waiting days for Mirabelle to get back, I want to spend more time with her,¡¯ Naomi protested, giving Ryan a light shove.


    ¡®What she needs is rest. Let¡¯s not crowd them. Ashton¡¯s been waiting days to get his wife back, too.¡¯


    Finally catching his meaning, Naomi relented. ¡®Oh. Right, okay.¡¯


    She stood. ¡®Well, Mirabelle, you get some proper rest. I¡¯ll pop by to see you tomorrow.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯d like that,¡¯ I nodded.


    Ryan led Naomi out. The moment the door closed behind them, the atmosphere in the room turned thick and awkward.


    ¡®Did you feel any better after your sleep?¡¯ Ashton asked,ing over to take my cold hands in his.


    ¡®A bit,¡¯ I nodded faintly, my gaze distant.


    ¡®Could you manage something to eat? Carmen made some miso soup. The kitchen has prepared a few other dishes you like as well.¡¯


    ¡®Alright.¡¯ I was actually hungry, so I might as well eat. What was the point in starving myself?


    I needed to pull myself together, get back to work.


    I needed Genevieve to see that I was alive and well.


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    Ashton went to the kitchen and asked Carmen to bring up the soup.


    Carmen arrived with the tray, setting down my soup and a full meal for Ashton too. ¡®Mr Laurent, you should try and eat something as well. You¡¯ve barely had a drop of water or a wink of sleep for days. You¡¯ll make yourself ill if you carry on like this, and then who will look after Mrs Laurent?¡¯


    I wondered who that little speech was really for.


    Was it meant for Ashton¡¯s ears, or for mine?

 Chapter 332 Her Place In His Heart

    <h4>Chapter 332: Chapter 332 Her ce In His Heart</h4>


    Ashton nodded.


    A pleased smile touched Carmen¡¯s lips. ¡®Good. I¡¯ll leave you to it. Just ring when you¡¯re finished.¡¯


    She hesitated for a moment, then added, ¡®Mrs Laurent, it¡¯s so good to have you back. You should have seen Mr Laurent while you were gone. I¡¯ve never seen him like that. He just looked... utterly lost, he really did.¡¯


    That word, ¡®lost¡¯, felt like a cold de slipping between my ribs.


    There it was again, that ache for him.


    I knew I was pathetic. This man had hurt me over and over again for another woman, and yet here I was, feeling that familiar pang of sympathy for him.


    ¡®Carmen, that¡¯s enough. You can go. I¡¯ll call if we need anything,¡¯ Ashton said.


    ¡®Of course, of course. Just ring if you need me,¡¯ Carmen said with a quick nod. She gave me onest nce before leaving.


    I only drank the soup, leaving the other dishes untouched.


    When I¡¯d finished, Ashton spoke softly, yet his tone left no room for argument. ¡®Rest for a bit, then take your medicine. After that, get some more sleep. You¡¯ll feel brand new by tomorrow. I know you¡¯re worried about your studio, but you can only go back to work when you¡¯re well and have your strength back. Understood?¡¯


    ¡®I know.¡¯ I didn¡¯t mention Genevieve anymore. There just didn¡¯t seem any point.


    After our meal, he watched me take the pills and then urged me to lie down and rest. ¡®Try to sleep. I¡¯m just going to take a quick shower.¡¯


    I watched him leave.


    I knew Ashton was trying his best to make things right, but a wounded heart isn¡¯t so easily mended with a few kind gestures.


    I must have been truly exhausted, and the fever still had its grip on me, because I was already asleep by the time he finished his shower.


    I woke up to find myself in Ashton¡¯s arms, my skin damp and sticky with sweat. I¡¯d been sleeping so fitfully that I was drenched, and yet he¡¯d held onto me the whole time.


    Maybe it was the sweat finally breaking my fever, or maybe it was just the deep sleep, but whatever the reason, I felt noticeably more clear-headed.


    ¡®You¡¯re awake?¡¯ His voice was a low, rough whisper.


    ¡®Mmhmm. I¡¯m all sweaty. I feel disgusting. I need a shower.¡¯


    ¡®You shouldn¡¯t shower straight after sweating like that. You¡¯ll catch a chill.¡¯


    I frowned. ¡®I¡¯m having a shower.¡¯


    He tried to talk me out of it, but I was adamant. Finally, he let me go.


    When I came out, he wasn¡¯t in bed.


    He¡¯d probably gone to his study to deal with work. He must have let so much pile up over the past few days while he was searching for me and then looking after me. The sacrifice was undeniably significant.


    But even this version of him, who was willing to make such grand sacrifices to find me and care for me, still wouldn¡¯t punish Genevieve for what she¡¯d done.


    Did that mean her ce in his heart was far more important than I had ever imagined?


    I changed into fresh clothes, found my new phone, and sent a text to Yvaine to give her the new number.


    Her call came through almost instantly, asking if I was feeling any better.


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    I told her I was, that the fever had broken.


    ¡®Well, that¡¯s a relief. I wanted toe over yesterday, but I was afraid that terrifying man of yours wouldn¡¯t let me in.¡¯ Once she was satisfied on that front, her tone turned serious. ¡®So, have you really thought it through? You¡¯re going to stay with him?¡¯


    ¡®I haven¡¯t decided yet,¡¯ I said.


    Yvaine muttered something under her breath, no doubt anotherint about me not having a backbone.


    The truth is, that¡¯s just how I am. On the surface, I seem decisive, like I can get things done in a sh. But when ites to matters of the heart, I¡¯m all hesitation and second guesses.


    It was the same back then with Rhys. I knew perfectly well that Catherine was the only one on his mind, but I still couldn¡¯t bring myself to let go. We just kept torturing each other, trapped in that cycle, until his p finally jolted me awake.


    And now, what Genevieve has done to me, not just once but several times, has hurt far more than Rhys¡¯s p ever did.


    So why can¡¯t I just steel myself and leave Ashton?


    ¡®Well, you keep thinking about it, then,¡¯ Yvaine said with a sigh. ¡®When you¡¯ve made up your mind, let me know. I¡¯ve got a list of golden bachelors ready to go. Every one of them has a six-pack, a worth in the billions, and looks that absolutely pass muster.¡¯


    I had tough. ¡®They¡¯re not all your ex-boyfriends, are they?¡¯


    ¡®Of course not,¡¯ she retorted. ¡®I told you, they¡¯re bachelors.¡¯


    ¡®Does that list include your brother, Emmett?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯d love to add him to the mix, but you said you weren¡¯t interestedst time, remember?¡¯


    ¡®I didn¡¯t say I wasn¡¯t interested. I said I wasn¡¯t good enough for him.¡¯


    ¡®So, you ARE interested, then?¡¯ she pressed.


    I was just about to answer when Ashton came into the room.


    ¡®That¡¯s not what I meant,¡¯ I said quickly. ¡®Gotta go now. Talk to youter.¡¯


    I hung up.


    ¡®Who was that?¡¯ Ashton asked.


    ¡®Yvaine.¡¯


    ¡®I thought I heard Emmett¡¯s name.¡¯


    I stared at him. ¡®Were you eavesdropping?¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯ Ashton looked at me. ¡®Why are you so defensive?¡¯


    ¡®I get defensive when I get grilled about private phone calls.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not grilling you.¡¯


    ¡®Sure sounds like it.¡¯


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