“Get lost! Our friendship ends right here! Don’t ever think I’ll stick around to babysit you when you’re suffering from your own dumb choices!”  

Ashley’s mind drifted back to years ago, when she told her best friend, Valerie, that she was dead set on marrying Georgio.  

Val was the one who knew everything, including the fake sweet-girl mask Ashley wore to impress Georgio. They’d been tight since they were toddlers, both coming from families on the same level.  

Over and over, Val tried to stop her, tried to shake Ashley awake so she wouldn’t recklessly fall for Georgio. But Ashley ignored every warning, every piece of proof Val laid out, until their friendship hit a breaking point.  

Ashley still remembered Val’s last words before she cut off all contact: “Don’t ever call me again, Ash. Unless you’re dead—or you finally wake up and dump that ungrateful jerk!”  

And today, Val proved she meant it. At first, Ashley was doubtful when she tried reaching out after walking out of Miller Cosmetics, Georgio’s company. It had been years since they’d spoken, and Ashley knew all too well how stubborn her best friend could be.

Who would’ve thought—the number that had been dead for years suddenly rang, and Val actually picked up.  

“I already dropped off the divorce papers,” Ashley said the second she heard Val’s voice on the other end.  

Silence stretched for a beat, then came the reply: “I’ll send a car. Tell me where you are.” 

Ten minutes later, a jet‑black Rolls‑Royce Ghost pulled up right in front of Ashley. The driver, dressed sharp in a tailored uniform, bowed as he opened the back door, welcoming her back into the world she truly belonged to—the world of a Fortisiano heiress, from one of the most powerful families around. 

As soon as Ashley slid inside, the door shut with a solid thud. The chaos of the city—the horns, the traffic noise—vanished in an instant.  

That hush wrapped around her like a blanket, filling her chest with calm, safety, and the unmistakable sense of coming home. The cabin’s scent—luxury leather blended with private aromatherapy—was worlds apart from the cheap car fresheners Gio used to buy.  

Ashley leaned back, sinking into the plush, buttery‑soft interior. Even Gio’s leather sofa at home couldn’t compare.  

Everything was night‑and‑day different. Even the smooth glide of the ride was something she hadn’t felt since before marrying Gio. Nostalgia crept in, memories of her life before him stirring as the car turned onto a road she knew by heart.  

Yes—this was the way to her family’s mansion, the grand Fortisiano estate. Ashley’s heartbeat quickened. She hadn’t shared her troubles with them in ages. Her bond with her family had grown distant, though never completely severed like her friendship with Val.

“Will they even take me back?” Ashley whispered, doubt creeping in. Whatever confidence she’d had at Gio’s office earlier had vanished.  

The towering steel gates swung open, and the car rolled to a stop right at the entrance. Ashley drew in a deep breath, forcing her hesitation out and locking her resolve in place.  

When the door opened, she stepped out with the aura of a queen. The uncertainty that had clung to her heart moments ago was gone.  

She had barely set foot outside the car, ready to take in the mansion’s grandeur, when her ears caught a voice she hadn’t heard in years.  

“Miss Ashley?! You’ve come back! Oh, this old man is overjoyed—welcome home, Miss Ashley!”  

It was the familiar voice of the Fortisiano family’s butler, who had served faithfully for over forty years. A rush of longing surged through Ashley as she saw him hurrying from the front door to greet her.  

“I’m home, Freddie,” Ashley said, her voice trembling, a wide smile breaking across her face. They embraced briefly before the aging butler remembered his manners and composed himself.  

The Rolls‑Royce had already slipped away without her noticing. Ashley regretted not thanking the driver, then followed Freddie’s steps inside. Along the way, he couldn’t hold back his chatter, spilling years of pent‑up affection.  

“Who’s that, Freddie? Why are you suddenly rambling like you used to when Ashley was still here?”  

The sharp rebuke froze Freddie in place—and made Ashley’s stomach twist. That cold, commanding voice belonged to Arthur, her eldest brother.

The man was exactly as Ashley remembered him four years ago—always buried in work documents. Arthur only lifted his head when the unusual silence hit him.  

Freddie’s grin stretched wide. “Of course—because Miss Ashley is here now!”  

Arthur shot to his feet, forgetting the stack of papers in his lap as they scattered to the floor. His pupils narrowed when he saw his fragile little sister—pale, thin, sad, forcing a smile. Ashley had come alone, without a single bag, and without saying a word Arthur knew something was terribly wrong.  

“I’m divorced. Can I come home?” Ashley asked, her smile innocent, like the little girl Arthur once adored.  

“Stupid question!” Arthur barked, rushing forward and pulling her into his arms. The moment she felt safe, Ashley’s defenses crumbled. She sobbed uncontrollably, as if pouring out every injustice she had endured.  

“Ashley! You foolish girl, finally you realize I was always right?! Come here and hug your fairy godmother!” a voice shouted from the doorway.  

Everyone turned to see Val, standing with hands on her hips and a work bag in hand. Ashley broke free from Arthur’s embrace and ran straight into her best friend’s arms.  

The two women clung to each other, ignoring the pride and distance that had once torn them apart. Val scolded Ashley through a raspy voice, cursing at how skinny she’d become.  

From the corner, Arthur watched the reunion. For a fleeting moment, the icy man’s lips curved upward, admiring Val’s unwavering loyalty to his sister.  

“Enough crying,” Val said, pulling back and roughly wiping Ashley’s tears away. She guided Ashley to the living room sofa, Arthur following with his face hardening once more.  

“Now tell me—what the hell did that bastard do to bring my sister home looking like this?” Arthur demanded, his voice low but dripping with lethal intent.

Ashley drew in a deep breath, steadying her voice. “He cheated on me with his assistant. And… I lost my baby in an accident while trying to confirm his betrayal.”  

“Four years ago, you even threw away the Fortisiano name and used Mom’s surname just so that man wouldn’t know about your wealth. And this is the payback he gives you?” Arthur’s tone dripped with bitter sarcasm.  

The room fell into a suffocating silence. Arthur’s jaw clenched so hard it cracked, while Val’s fists tightened.  

Val snapped open her work bag, spreading out files, photos, and evidence across the table.  

Arthur frowned. “What is this, Valerie?”  

“A one‑way ticket to hell for Georgio Miller and his whore,” Val replied, her smile sharp and deadly.  

“That idiot thinks his company leveled up because of his assistant Joy’s ‘impressive background,’ right? He doesn’t even know that Joy’s so‑called background comes from being the mistress of Mr. Robert, that sleazy old businessman.”  

Val’s eyes blazed as she turned to Ashley. “More than that—Miller Cosmetics only survived these past four years because of secret logistical subsidies funneled anonymously from Fortisiano Group under your name. I’ve got all the data right here.”  

Ashley stared at the documents laid out before her, then slowly lifted her gaze to Arthur. A cold, genuine smirk finally curved across the face of the Fortisiano queen.  

“Arthur… strip Georgio Miller of every privilege I ever gave him,” Ashley said, her voice low, laced with warning. “His toxic life act is over.”