Sovereign City, outskirts, the Hart family estate.

The television illuminated the living room with breaking gossip: “Rising starlet Selene Lark was recently spotted entering a hotel with an unidentified man, sparking rumors of a budding romance. What’s intriguing is speculation that the man in question might be none other than Christian Hart, the newly instated head of the Hart Group….”

Raelynn glanced at her phone, checking the time. Without a flicker of interest, she turned off the TV and returned to the kitchen, humming softly as she busied herself among the ingredients and pans.

It was as if the man headlining this bombshell piece of entertainment news wasn’t her own husband. Her mood remained untouched, buoyant even, as though this had nothing to do with her at all.

The housekeeper hovered nearby, attempting to interpret Raelynn’s expression before cautiously approaching. “Madam, please, let me handle this…”

“No need,” Raelynn said lightly, shaking her head. “You can take care of other tasks. I want to make this meal myself. For him.”

The housekeeper clapped her hands together in genuine admiration. “You’re so good to Mr. Hart, ma’am!”

Hearing this, Raelynn’s lips tightened. She said nothing.

Good to him? Was that what people thought?

In truth, her so-called kindness was nothing more than a careful performance, woven into the fabric of an unequal marriage. Call it what it was: deference, not devotion.

Life is a stage, isn’t it? And she was playing her role.

Two hours trickled by. The dinner table was set, dishes prepared with painstaking care. Her fingers itched to check the phone again. Earlier, she had typed and retyped a message before finally settling on one.

“Today’s our anniversary. Come home early tonight. I have a surprise for you! You’re going to love it.”

She’d sent it hours ago, but Christian’s reply window stared back at her in hollow, unbroken silence. Just like countless other messages she’d sent before. Nothing new.

Dinner had gone cold on the table, untouched, but she had no appetite for it now. In an effort to distract herself, she opened a food delivery app, aimlessly scrolling through the menus.

Then, the sound of a familiar stride reached her ears.

“You’re back!” she called, stepping forward to greet Christian, reaching instinctively for his coat.

Before her hand could even brush the fabric, he was on her. The force of his presence suffused the room; heat rolled over her as his hand grasped her chin, tilting her face up with no gentleness. He kissed her, no, he took from her, harsh and entirely without tenderness.

She froze for a moment, breath caught in a fight-or-flight response. Then, just as a foreign perfume mingled with the air—one that certainly wasn’t hers—she regained herself. Muscle by muscle, she stiffened against him and pushed him off.

Christian caught her wrist, dragging her closer. His face loomed. His anger surged.

“Isn’t this why you called me back? What’s gotten into you tonight?” His voice was low and dangerous, tinged with irritation and something sharper—disdain.

Raelynn avoided his gaze, lashes trembling like wings unsure of where to land. She wrestled with her thoughts, finally finding a foothold in words.

“Today is our wedding anniversary, and I…”

Christian released her mid-sentence, brushing invisible wrinkles from his shirt. “So what?” he interrupted, indifferent.

Raelynn’s breath hitched. The blood pounding in her chest pushed urgency into her voice. “It’s our anniversary! I told you about it days ago. You’re late because of Selene, aren’t you?”

His eyes narrowed, dark as the abyss. His tone cut sharp, frigid. “What’s this, Mrs. Hart? Are you so tired of your position that you’ve decided to interrogate me now? What gives you the right?”

And there it was. The unbridgeable chasm between them, laid bare.

Raelynn reeled, her response brittle as glass. “I’m not interrogating you; I just…”

She let the words splinter into the silence, remembering how this all began. Three years ago, she was forced to marry Christian, who had been confined to a hospital bed, a man locked in the limbo of a coma after a devastating car accident. For six months she’d lived like a forgotten vow beside his motionless form. Then, miraculously, he woke—and with a ferocity that reshaped the Hart family in mere months. He ascended to its throne with ruthless efficiency.

To the world, they pretended they weren’t married. Christian allowed it, gave her a place on the condition that she stay in line and out of sight. She endured. Watched as gossip swirled about his flings, one after another, while she remained invisible. Mrs. Hart in name only, she stayed quiet, obedient. Token gestures of gratitude for the cage he built around her.

Now, his hand gripped her jaw again. Firm. Commanding. His voice was hollowed out with ice. “If you want to keep what you have, don’t test my limits.”

But this time, crossing that line was exactly what she intended.

“Limits?” Her voice, so rarely raised, now brimmed with buried hurt and raw frustration. “Do you even know what the limits of marriage are? Christian, it’s been three years. Do you even care how many Selenes there have been? Do you have any idea what your responsibility means in this? A single moment of kindness for me—just one, even today—would it kill you?”

Christian laughed, but it wasn’t laughter. It was a blade. Scorn stretched taut. “Today, yesterday—tell me what’s so special about them.”

Her head lifted in defiance, the chandelier’s crystalline glint mocking the sheen in her eyes. “You’re right. It’s nothing. No day’s special.”

It was a crack in her armor, and he saw it. A vulnerability he couldn’t explain. Her red-rimmed eyes held an unshakable intensity that made it impossible to look away. She, who was usually so demure, sequestered, suddenly burned like a flame too bright to extinguish.

That pull she had over him—it ignited irritation more than anything else. He’d tried to stay indifferent, to treat this union as a transient inconvenience. But somewhere, somehow, she had peeled away at his resolve.

He scowled, turning away as though the sight of her was too much. “Fine,” he said brusquely, his tone flatlining into exhaustion. “If today’s so important to you, let’s make it memorable. We’ll get divorced today.”

Raelynn’s lips twitched. She almost smiled. Almost. But she caught herself, staggering for effect. “Divorce? Why?”

“You know why.” His voice was colder than before—a tone sculpted from disdain. “You and I both know how this marriage began.”

“No—I don’t want to!” Her voice cracked. “You’ve been so good to me, spending money on me, defending me in front of the Jones family—”

“Yes,” he snapped. “But now you’ve stopped behaving. And I’m done.” He crossed the room, already tiring of the conversation. “I’ll have my lawyer handle the paperwork. The sooner this is finalized, the better. Don’t try anything stupid, Raelynn, or you won’t see so much as a cent from me.”

There was no chance for rebuttal. He tore off his necktie and discarded it, striding toward the door. The sound of it slamming shut left the house in silence.

The night had deepened. Wearing only a thin dress, Raelynn followed him out to the driveway, standing there as his car roared away. She only turned back inside once the engine’s hum faded into nothingness.

Ascending the staircase, she paused, alone in the dim light. Then she smiled, wide, unguarded. A slow, victorious curve of the lips, as she silently made a triumphant fist to herself.

She retrieved her phone, opened a hidden app, and typed:

“The fish has taken the bait. Proceed with the plan as discussed.”

Three years ago, she had been dragged back to Sovereign City, a pawn in a marriage arranged by her stepmother Aria, who lured her from her mountain refuge into despair. To refuse had meant certain death—the desperation of someone willing to escape at all costs. Yet now, her time had come.

Her hands tightened around the phone, her gaze cold as steel.

It was time to settle the score with Aria.