“I thought you wouldn’t come,” she murmurs once she’s settled into her seat.

“I wasn’t going to, but I had no other choice,” I reply honestly.

“You couldn’t find the rest of my formula, could you?” she asks, watching my every expression with unnerving precision.

“How did you know I’d look for someone to help me complete it?” I ask, surprised.

“Because I saw the same look on your face that Oliver gets when he wants something,” she murmurs with a small sigh.

“Don’t compare me to that idiot,” I hiss, my voice laced with anger. She merely shrugs in response and keeps her eyes on me, waiting for me to say something more. When I don’t, she’s the first to speak again, bringing up her offer.

“So… have you decided to accept my deal?” she asks in a whisper, lowering her gaze and fiddling with her fingers.

“Yes, I’ll help you. But let me be clear: if I find out this is some kind of trap between you and Oliver, I’ll make our marriage a living hell. You’ll wish you were dead rather than married to me,” I threaten, earning a growl from the blond guy watching us with a scowl.

“Living like that isn’t anything new for me,” she says calmly. “But don’t worry. I give you my word—what I want most is to get revenge on Oliver. I could never betray my new partner.” She offers her hand to seal the deal, and as a sliver of light filters into the SUV, my eyes narrow when I notice her split lip.

“What happened to you here?” I ask, gently taking her chin and inspecting her face. I’m certain she didn’t have that injury a few days ago.

“That’s none of your business,” she snaps, pulling away from my grip.

“None of my business? In case you’ve forgotten, you’ll soon be my wife. Wait a second—did Oliver hit you?” I growl, my voice low and dangerous. She instinctively flinches, shrinking back as if she’s afraid I’ll hit her too.

The thought that the bastard might’ve laid a hand on her fills me with rage. I clench my fists, resisting the urge to strangle Oliver, and try to steady my voice so I don’t scare her. I know I wasn’t kind the first time we met—I treated her horribly, something I never do to women. But she was Lefebvre’s wife, and that clouded my judgment.

“It wasn’t him,” she says, shaking her head.

“If it wasn’t him, then who the hell dared to do it? Turn on the light, Kalet!” I grab her arm and pull her closer, examining her face for other signs of injury. “I’m waiting for your answer,” I insist.

“It was… Oliver’s mother,” she stammers, her eyes reddening with shame, humiliated by the need to confess that her husband’s family abuses her.

“And Oliver allows that?” I snap, furious.

“He doesn’t care,” she mutters, avoiding my gaze.

“Why am I not surprised?” I mutter, exhaling sharply and pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Can we talk about the agreement?” she asks softly. “Talking about my relationship with Oliver’s family doesn’t exactly bring me joy.”

“Fine,” I concede, even though I want nothing more than to dig deeper into what really happened.

“As you know, on the company’s anniversary, Oliver is planning to unveil his new product.”

“My product, you mean,” I correct her coldly.

“The one he stole,” she clarifies. “That’s the day I want to serve him with divorce papers.”

“You’ll do it in front of the press?” I ask skeptically.

Those launch events are always crawling with media—reporters hiding in every corner, ready to pounce on even the smallest detail.

“He’s planning to do the same to me—ask for a divorce and announce his mistress’s pregnancy without caring about the public humiliation he’ll put me through. Why shouldn’t I pay him back the same way?” she says, her lips tightening as she fights back tears.

“If that’s what you want, I’ll have my lawyers help you with the divorce. When is it happening?”

“In two weeks.”

“That’s enough time to expedite the process. Oliver will hear it straight from your mouth that day. I need you to read this,” I say, handing her the marriage contract I prepared.

“Can I read it another day?”

“Why?”

“I can’t take too long to get back home—they’ll get suspicious,” she explains nervously.

“If you don’t read it today, you won’t have time later to reject any clauses.”

“That’s fine. I trust you.”

“You trust me?” I ask, genuinely surprised by her words. “Even though we barely know each other?”

“Believe me—I trust you more than I trust my own husband. I’m sure you didn’t include a clause requiring me to pay you a million euros if I end the marriage early,” she says with a faint smile.

“You’re right about that. Fine, read it later if that’s what you want. Do you want me to take you home?”

“No!” she cries out, alarmed.

“Why not? What are you hiding from me?”

“Oliver and his parents are suspicious. If any of the guards see me getting out of a luxury SUV, they’ll know something’s going on and our plan will fall apart. Could you drop me off at the beach instead?”

“The beach? That’s even farther from your house.”

“I’ll make Oliver believe I was there the whole time. Please, just take me,” she pleads, clasping her hands together.