Haleigh Delaney pushed open the double doors of the CEO's office. She wore an absurdly expensive, tight-fitting couture suit and six-inch heels.

She carried a cup of black coffee, swaying her hips as she walked up to Cassius's massive desk.

"Sir," she purred, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

Cassius was staring at a merger acquisition file on his monitor. He didn't look up. His brow twitched in annoyance.

Haleigh leaned over the desk to place the cup down, deliberately pushing her cleavage into his line of sight.

A wave of cheap, synthetic vanilla perfume hit Cassius's nose.

Bile rose in his throat. He kicked off the floor, rolling his chair back violently.

"Get that cheap trash out of my office," Cassius snarled, his eyes dark with disgust. "Get out."

Haleigh's face drained of color. She bit her lip, forcing tears into her eyes. Her hand flew to her neck, directly touching the silver rose necklace.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered, her voice trembling. "I just wanted to thank you for saving me that night."

Cassius saw the necklace. He forced the nausea down. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Leave the coffee. Get out."

Haleigh turned around. The second the office door clicked shut, her fake tears vanished, replaced by a triumphant smirk.

She walked into the executive restroom, pulled out her phone, and dialed Ayleen.

Ayleen was sitting on the floor of her empty apartment, packing her clothes into a cheap suitcase. She answered the phone.

"Looking for this?" Haleigh's mocking laughter echoed through the speaker.

"Where is my necklace, Haleigh?" Ayleen demanded, her knuckles turning white around the phone.

"It's mine now," Haleigh sneered. "Just like the Doyle empire will be mine. I'm going to be the lady of the house."

Ayleen's body trembled violently with sheer rage, but not a single word could escape her throat. Call the police? Who would even listen to her? She couldn't even protect her own basic freedom right now, let alone fight back to retrieve her mother's only relic. A profound, suffocating sense of powerlessness dug its claws deep into her chest.

Haleigh hung up.

Ayleen threw her phone against the mattress. She had lost her family, her freedom, and now her only memory of her mother.

Back in the CEO's office, Adrian knocked and entered. His face was grim. He held a red-stamped document from the legal department.

"Sir. We have a massive problem," Adrian said, his voice tight. He handed the file over with both hands.

Cassius snatched it. He flipped to the first page.

His eyes locked onto the "Spouse" line.

Ayleen Avery.

Stamped right next to it was the Doyle Family Trust's absolute seal of authority.

Cassius shot out of his chair. The heavy leather seat flew backward and smashed into the floor-to-ceiling window with a deafening crack.

He grabbed Adrian by the collar, lifting the man onto his toes. His eyes were bloodshot with pure, unadulterated rage.

"Who did this?" Cassius roared. "Who the hell authorized a marriage certificate?"

Adrian swallowed hard. "Madam Matilda, sir. She used the emergency mandate left by your grandfather. It's legally binding."

Cassius threw the document onto the floor. His chest heaved. He let out a dark, terrifying laugh that chilled the room.

He kicked the glass coffee table. It shattered instantly. Hot coffee soaked into the Persian rug.

Cassius pulled out his phone and dialed his private lawyer. "Draft divorce papers. Now. I don't care what it costs."

The lawyer's voice trembled through the speaker. "Sir, the trust stipulates that if you initiate a divorce, you forfeit thirty percent of your controlling shares."

Cassius's jaw locked. He hurled his phone at the wall. The device exploded into pieces.

He planted both hands on his desk. The veins in his arms bulged against his skin. He wanted to tear this Ayleen Avery apart with his bare hands.

He stood up straight and violently adjusted his cuffs.

"Get the car," Cassius ordered, his voice dropping to a lethal calm. "I'm going to the estate. I'm going to kill that old witch."

Adrian scrambled out of the room. The storm had broken.

The black Maybach didn't even slow down. It smashed straight through the wrought-iron gates of the Doyle estate. The tires screamed against the pavement as the car drifted to a halt in front of the main house.

Cassius kicked the door open. He marched up the marble steps, radiating pure, murderous intent.

Mr. Watts stepped forward to intercept him. Cassius shoved the butler aside so hard the man crashed into a stone pillar.

Cassius slammed both hands against the heavy double doors of the living room, throwing them open.

Matilda sat on a velvet sofa, calmly sipping her afternoon tea. She didn't flinch at the noise. She slowly placed her bone china teacup onto the saucer and looked up.

Cassius crossed the room in three strides. He slammed the crumpled marriage certificate onto the table right in front of her.

He leaned over, his face inches from hers. "Do not test me, Matilda," he hissed through his teeth.

Matilda chuckled. She picked up a silk napkin and dabbed her mouth. "You are making a fool of this family over a club waitress. The board is furious. You need a respectable wife to stabilize the stock."

"You want a puppet," Cassius sneered. "You want a spy in my bed so you can steal the company for your own son."

Matilda's eyes hardened, but her face remained smooth. "The ink is dry, Cassius. You will accept Ayleen."

Cassius stood up. He buttoned his suit jacket. "I will dump every share I own onto the open market tomorrow. I will burn this company to the ground before I let you control me."

Matilda's fingers stopped playing with her prayer beads. She stood up, walked to the wall safe, and punched in a code.

She pulled out a faded velvet box and opened it.

Inside lay a sapphire pendant. It was his dead mother's most treasured possession. The one thing Cassius had been hunting for ten years.

"If you break this marriage," Matilda said coldly, "I will smash this into dust right in front of your eyes."

Cassius's fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. A violent, bloodthirsty urge surged in his chest. He wanted to wrap his hands around her throat.

The room fell into a suffocating silence.

Cassius closed his eyes. He forced the rage down into his gut.

When he opened his eyes, they were dead. "Three months. A trial period."

He stepped closer. "If she asks for a divorce within three months, the trust clause is void, and you hand over the necklace."

Matilda calculated quickly. Ayleen's father's life was in her hands. The girl would never dare ask for a divorce.

"Deal," Matilda smiled.

Cassius didn't waste another second. He turned and walked toward the door.

He stopped at the threshold, looking over his shoulder. "I am going to make that woman's life a living hell."

He walked out.

An hour later, Ayleen stood outside the same iron gates. She was soaking wet, dragging a broken suitcase behind her.

Mr. Allen, the house manager, walked out with an umbrella. He opened the side gate. "Follow me, Miss."

Ayleen walked through the massive gardens. The sheer size of the gothic mansion suffocated her.

She was led into the cavernous living room. Mr. Allen told her to wait for the master of the house.

Ayleen gripped the handle of her suitcase. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She felt like a prisoner waiting for the executioner.

Suddenly, tires screeched outside. The front doors were shoved open violently.

Ayleen turned her head.

A towering, broad-shouldered man walked into the room. The air temperature plummeted instantly.

Cassius walked into the living room. His leather shoes cracked against the marble floor like gunshots. He marched straight toward the woman standing in the center of the room.

Ayleen looked up.

Cassius's gaze swept over her and abruptly halted. Was this the miserable woman from the street? The disdain in his dark eyes instantly ignited into a frigid, calculated fury. So, she had been Matilda's planted pawn all along, even back then. When she saw his razor-sharp jawline and those dead, pitch-black eyes, her pupils blew wide open. Her blood turned to ice.

It was the man from the SUV.

And instantly, the memory of the dark VIP suite crashed into her brain. The broad shoulders. The terrifying grip. The smell of cigars.

It was him. The monster who had torn her apart.

Ayleen stumbled backward in pure terror. Her calves hit the edge of the sofa, and she nearly collapsed. Her face went completely white.

Cassius stopped three feet away. His eyes dragged over her cheap, soaked clothes like she was a disease. A cruel smirk twisted his lips.

He snatched a thick file from Adrian and hurled it directly at Ayleen. The heavy binder slammed onto the glass coffee table with a loud crack.

"Sign the prenup and the NDA," Cassius ordered. His voice left zero room for negotiation.

Ayleen's hands shook violently as she picked up the papers. She flipped to the first page.

The terms were brutal. She would have zero access to his wealth. She would leave with nothing. She was forbidden from speaking about the marriage to anyone.

But the final clause made her stomach turn: The wife will act as a prop in public and will not interfere with the husband's private affairs, including his romantic partners.

Ayleen bit her lip. "I didn't want this. Matilda forced me. I don't want your money-"

Cassius's hand shot out. He grabbed her jaw, his fingers digging into her skin hard enough to bruise the bone.

He leaned down, his face inches from hers. "Save the pathetic acting. You're exactly like that old witch. Greedy and disgusting."

He sneered. "I know your family is bankrupt. You sold your body to buy your father out of prison. Don't pretend you have morals."

Tears burned in Ayleen's eyes. The humiliation was suffocating. She grabbed his wrist, trying to pry his fingers off her face, but his grip was iron.

"In this house, you are lower than the dirt on my shoes," Cassius whispered maliciously. "Keep your cheap tricks to yourself, or I will make you wish you were dead."

He shoved her face away.

Cassius pulled a white silk handkerchief from his pocket. He meticulously wiped the fingers that had touched her skin, then dropped the silk into the trash can.

Ayleen fell onto the sofa. She gasped for air. A bright red handprint bloomed on her jaw.

If she didn't sign, her father would die in jail.

She picked up the pen. Her hand trembled as she signed her name on the dotted lines.

Cassius snatched the papers. He looked at Mr. Allen. "Throw her in the back guest room on the first floor."

Mr. Allen stepped forward. "Miss, please."

Ayleen grabbed her suitcase. She kept her head down and followed the butler.

As she reached the hallway, Cassius's voice rang out, loud and cruel.

"I am bringing someone home tonight. Stay in your room. Don't let me see your face."

Ayleen's spine snapped straight. She knew exactly what that meant. It was the ultimate degradation.

"Understood," she whispered. She practically ran down the hall to escape him.

Cassius watched her go. He expected to feel victorious. Instead, a heavy, irritating weight settled in his chest.

He walked to the bar, poured a glass of neat whiskey, and downed it in one swallow to burn the feeling away.

Ayleen was shoved into a damp, dark room near the laundry quarters. It had a bed and a closet. It was a cell.

She locked the door, slid down the wood, and buried her face in her knees. She cried silently into the dark.

Hours later, the roar of a sports car engine echoed outside her window.

Cassius had brought the woman home. The real hell had just begun.