The voice on the other end of the phone was far from optimistic. "Are you sure he doesn’t suspect anything? You’d better be careful."

Suspect?

A faint sneer curled across Raelynn’s lips. Today’s charade had run through her mind a thousand times, rehearsed to perfection. Her performance could rival a prima donna’s.

The truth was, Christian didn’t love her. He never had. That was why he couldn’t be bothered to dissect her reactions or second-guess her motives.

Even so, the thought left a bitter aftertaste. "Meet me at the usual spot tomorrow," she said, her voice edged with weariness. "We’ll talk in person."

"Wake up, Raelynn! You’re giving up the position of the future matriarch of the Hart family. Do you really not care? That title is as good as holding the reins of Sovereign City itself."

"No," Raelynn quipped back, her tone sharp. "You wake up. Being the Hart family’s matriarch isn’t the grand prize you think it is."

For three long years, she’d lived as a shadow behind Christian, an unnamed figure quietly enduring the family’s disdain. Madam Hart hadn’t missed a single opportunity to make her life hell, and Raelynn had mastered the art of swallowing her pride—covering her wounds so as not to upset the greater harmony of the clan.

Meanwhile, the so-called husband she was married to had another act entirely. A ghost in their domestic life and practically a bachelor in public, he was the subject of one tabloid romance after another, his rumored flings painted in every shade of scandal. And yet, his modus operandi never wavered: don’t refuse, don’t initiate, don’t explain. The mere thought of it churned Raelynn’s stomach.

If it hadn’t been for Grandma Jones, if not for the family business she was trying so desperately to protect…

The lawyer didn’t waste time, arriving with the documents promptly. When Raelynn scanned the divorce agreement, her breath caught. The compensation terms were beyond generous: shares in Hart Group, two villas purchased during their marriage, plus a hefty alimony of two hundred million dollars.

She couldn’t deny it—Christian’s magnanimity had startled her.

"Ms. Jones," the lawyer began, his tone measured and professional, "as stipulated by your prenuptial agreement, assets acquired before the marriage remain separate. However, Mr. Hart has nonetheless considered…"

"Where’s Christian?" she interjected, her voice trembling, her face pale. For a moment, she radiated the wounded defiance of a woman banished from her gilded cage, grasping at the last threads of dignity. "I need to see him. If he doesn’t come, I won’t sign anything!"

The lawyer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’d clearly predicted this storm before leaving the office. Skirting her demand, he chose his words carefully. "Mr. Hart has entrusted me with full authority on this matter. If you have any concerns, I can relay them to him."

Raelynn’s lashes fluttered downward, her expression unreadable. But within, her mind worked furiously, calculating the next move that would allow her to leave with nothing but her freedom. Taking the settlement—to walk away with Hart Group shares and villas—was a risk she couldn’t afford. The Hart family didn’t forgive or forget, and dragging this out jeopardized her goal: a swift and final exit.

Without a word, she rose and tossed the agreement into the trash bin. "I already told you—I need to see Christian. That’s non-negotiable. Without him here, I won’t sign."

She spun on her heel, ready to leave, but the lawyer moved quickly to block her path. "I can call him. But I doubt he’ll make time to see you."

Perhaps sensing the only way out was through, the lawyer retrieved his phone and, to her shock, dialed in her presence. As soon as the line connected, Raelynn lunged. She snatched the phone from his grasp before he could utter a word, her voice frantic, as if the tremor in it might soften Christian’s steely resolve.

"Christian—husband—please, I can’t divorce you. I can’t live without you. Let’s not go through with this. Tell me what I’ve done wrong, and I’ll change. You can have other women, as many as you want; I won’t care, I swear. I just want to see you. Let’s talk, face to face. Please, give me one more chance!"

The silence that followed felt as sharp and cold as a blade.

Christian’s response was devoid of warmth, each syllable laced with disdain. "If that’s your wish. But don’t come crying to me when you regret it."

The phone call ended abruptly, the tension in the room thick enough to suffocate. The lawyer, his face pale with apprehension, quickly retrieved his phone, bowing apologetically into the receiver. "I’m sorry, Mr. Hart…"

As he briskly stepped out of the room, his murmured words trailed behind him, his tone tinged with urgency. Whatever Christian said on the other end, she couldn’t hear.

And she no longer cared.

The second agreement landed on Raelynn's desk swiftly.

When her eyes scanned the contents, her tense, weary face softened just a touch. This was it? It’s done?

The words “leaving with nothing” were printed in bold, stark lines across the page—a phrase that suited her just fine. Yet, even as she scrawled her name at the bottom, Raelynn couldn’t stop a few tears from slipping down, their meaning tangled and unreadable.

The lawyer cast her a sympathetic glance, as if worried she might change her mind. Without so much as a farewell, he fled like a man escaping danger.

Raelynn moved quickly after that. She packed her things with quiet efficiency, her belongings fitting into a laughably small suitcase. Everything in the bedroom had been bought with Christian’s money, and she had no intention of taking so much as a thread with her.

But just as she was zipping up the suitcase, a cacophony of unpleasant voices boiled up from downstairs.

“How could she bear to go through with the divorce? She’s probably just trying to force my brother into agreeing to even more outrageous terms!” The shrill insinuation carried through the house.

“I think it’s all just a ploy—a sob story to win sympathy. Too bad for her, even Father won’t be able to protect her this time!” Madam Hart’s tone was dripping with derision. “Let me see that agreement—what does it say, exactly?”

“Leaving with nothing? Seriously?” Georgia Hart screeched, her voice cutting through the air.

When Raelynn descended the stairs, suitcase in hand, she saw Madam Hart and Georgia sprawled across the living room furniture like self-appointed queens. This scene—this tableau of entitlement—was one she had witnessed hundreds of times in the three years she’d been here.

As Raelynn came into view, the two women turned simultaneously, their gazes locking on her suitcase like vultures spotting prey. Georgia’s lip curled.

“Stealing something, are we? What’s in that suitcase of yours?” she sneered, her voice a mixture of malice and mockery.

“And what’s it to you?” Raelynn replied coolly, her tone razor-sharp without raising in pitch.

The jab landed. Georgia gawked at her, stunned, as if Raelynn had sprouted horns. After a beat, she leapt up and clutched at Madam Hart’s arm, shaking it with exaggerated desperation.

“Mom, see what I mean? I told you—she’s finally showing her true colors! Look how she’s talking to me now. She doesn’t respect us at all!”

Not quite right. For three years, Raelynn had tiptoed on eggshells around this overbearing, petulant mother-daughter duo. Any attempt to stand up for herself had been met with Christian’s chastening lectures about duty and the bigger picture, urging her to play the role and keep the peace.

But it was over now. The game was over.

Without sparing them another glance, Raelynn reached for the agreement still clutched in Madam Hart’s hand. Yanking it free, she sidestepped them and made for the door. Yet, before she could leave, Georgia grabbed her arm.

“Someone come here—search her!” Georgia barked. “Make sure she’s not hiding anything she shouldn’t be taking!”

A group of staff gathered hesitantly nearby, their feet shuffling uncertainly. Georgia was grinning with smug anticipation.

Raelynn let her grip loosen around the suitcase, then raised her hand with deliberate calm. She swore she’d only used a fraction of her strength, but Georgia flew backward like a ragdoll, landing hard on the floor with a theatrical wail.

“Murder! She’s trying to kill me!” Georgia shrieked. “You vicious little tramp! How dare you hit me? Are you all useless? Get her! Take her down!”

Raelynn set down her suitcase and languidly rolled her wrist, flexing it with audible cracks that sent shivers through the room. Her voice was as lethally calm as her movements. “All at once, then, if you’re coming. Save us all some time. If you’re all so ready to throw yourselves at me, I don’t mind granting you that wish.”

The threat unsettled even the most seasoned among them. The bodyguards exchanged wary glances, no one daring to step forward.

“What are you doing?”

The voice behind her was low, cold, and utterly terrifying. Without turning, Raelynn felt her spine stiffen instinctively, like prey sensing the predator that had crept up unseen.

It was Christian.

Georgia’s demeanor shifted instantly. She crumpled into a heap of trembling innocence, her voice quivering with fabricated fragility. “Sister-in-law, the divorce is between you and my brother. It has nothing to do with me or Mom! If you’re upset, you can hit me again—here, I won’t stop you. But Mom... she’s your elder. You can’t hurt her, whatever she’s said to you.”

Raelynn blinked, momentarily speechless. What the hell? The sheer absurdity of it all left her mentally reeling.

Her gaze shifted instinctively toward Christian, where he stood near the doorway, bathed in the early summer sunlight. Tall, lean, his sharp features and perfectly tailored suit made him look as devastatingly handsome as always.

And yes—God help her—she was a sucker for a beautiful face. That had been part of the problem, really. It was why she’d said yes to him on first sight.

But that face now was far from welcoming. Christian’s expression was dark enough to suck the light out of the room entirely, his storm-cloud eyes fixed on her like an executioner preparing the verdict.