Three days later, Diana's phone rang. It was Conway's secretary. The woman's voice was polite but left no room for argument. She requested Diana's presence at a high-end cafe in the financial district to "discuss the state of her marriage with Mr. Julian."

Diana's stomach twisted into knots. She wanted to hang up, but she knew she had no choice. Refusing the 'uncle' would only bring more trouble.

She arrived at the cafe and was escorted to a private room in the back. The room was quiet, smelling of roasted coffee beans and expensive leather. Conway was already sitting at the table.

He was not wearing his usual sharp suit. He wore a dark grey cashmere sweater that softened the hard lines of his shoulders. He was trying to look less intimidating. It didn't work.

Diana sat down across from him, keeping her purse firmly in her lap.

Conway did not bother with small talk. "Diana, I know your marriage to Julian is a mistake."

Diana kept her mouth shut. She stared at his hands resting on the table, waiting for the trap to spring.

"You know what kind of man Julian is now," Conway continued, his voice smooth and persuasive. "Staying in a marriage devoid of affection will only ruin your life."

He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a thick document. He slid it across the table until it touched Diana's fingertips.

Diana looked down. The bold letters at the top read: Divorce Settlement Agreement.

"If you initiate the divorce," Conway said, his eyes locking onto hers, "the Maxwell family will provide you with a compensation package. The number is far greater than what you would receive after five years under the prenuptial agreement."

He reached out and tapped his index finger against the final page.

Diana's eyes followed his finger. Her breath hitched. Ten million dollars.

It was a staggering amount of money. Conway watched her face intensely, searching for the spark of greed, waiting for her to grab the pen.

Diana's heart skipped a beat, but not from greed. A cold, paralyzing fear gripped her throat.

Divorce? If she took the money and left the Maxwell family's protection, her father, Walter Atkins, would skin her alive. She would be blamed for destroying the alliance that was supposed to save their company. The retaliation she would face at home would be a nightmare.

She remembered the cold look in her father's eyes when he forced her into the wedding dress.

Diana swallowed the lump in her throat. She lifted her chin and looked Conway dead in the eye. "I am not signing it. I will not divorce him."

Conway's hand froze on the table. A flicker of genuine surprise crossed his face. He had expected her to snatch the money immediately.

"Why?" Conway asked, his brow furrowing. "Do not tell me you have fallen in love with Julian."

Diana let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Of course not. But I am his legal wife. I have the right to stay."

She refused to show her weakness. She would never tell this dangerous man how terrified she was of her own father.

Conway stared at her. Confusion rapidly morphed into irritation. He could not comprehend why a woman would reject ten million dollars and her freedom to stay in an empty shell of a marriage.

His mind immediately jumped to the worst conclusion. She was greedy. Ten million was not enough. She wanted the entire Maxwell empire.

"You are smart, Diana," Conway said, his voice dropping an octave, laced with warning. "But do not be too greedy."

The meeting ended in suffocating silence.

Diana walked out of the cafe, the cold city wind hitting her face. Her mind raced. Why was this 'uncle' so desperate to get rid of her?

She analyzed his behavior. He monitored Julian's marriage obsessively. He broke into her apartment. He was willing to pay ten million dollars out of his own pocket to buy his nephew's wife out of the picture.

Suddenly, a chilling, far more rational thought struck her brain. Did Conway... harbor some dark, twisted need to utterly destroy Julian's life out of pure malice? Or was he so obsessed with absolute control over the Maxwell empire that he viewed her as an unpredictable variable that had to be eliminated?

Diana stopped walking. A shiver of pure dread ran down her spine. It was the only logical explanation for his insane level of interference and his desperation to separate them. He wasn't just a dangerous patriarch; he was a megalomaniac driven by a twisted, suffocating need to orchestrate every breath taken within his family. From that moment on, the lens through which she viewed Conway shifted completely. He was a man who would crush anyone who disrupted his perfect, controlled board.

Theodore Sr. was losing patience. When Conway reported that the divorce bribe had failed, the old man decided to force the issue himself.

Diana was sitting in her living room when her phone rang. It was Mrs. Holloway. The housekeeper's voice was clipped and carried the weight of a direct order.

"Madam, Mr. Theodore requires you to attend the Maxwell Foundation's annual charity gala tonight with Mr. Julian."

Diana's stomach clenched. "I don't think Julian wants me there..."

"This is your duty as Mrs. Maxwell," Mrs. Holloway interrupted sharply. "It is also a requirement under your prenuptial agreement. Mr. Julian is currently at the Elysian Club downtown. You are to meet him there immediately."

The line went dead. Diana dropped the phone onto the couch. A wave of exhaustion washed over her. She had to put on the mask and play the loving wife.

She walked to her closet and pulled out a modest, knee-length black dress. It was simple and safe. She ordered a car and headed to the Elysian Club.

The club was a towering monument to extreme wealth. The lobby was lined with marble and gold. Diana walked up to the front desk. The receptionist, Brandy McCoy, looked Diana up and down. Brandy's eyes lingered on the plain black dress, her lips curling into a subtle sneer.

"I am here to see Julian Maxwell," Diana said, ignoring the look.

Brandy picked up the phone and dialed an extension. She listened for a moment, rolled her eyes, and hung up. "Mr. Maxwell is currently entertaining guests. He does not wish to be disturbed. Please wait in the lounge."

Her tone was incredibly dismissive. Diana walked to the lounge area and sat on a velvet sofa. Thirty minutes passed. Julian did not appear.

Diana's anxiety spiked. If she missed the gala, Theodore would punish her. She stood up and approached a waiter passing by. His nametag read 'Will Shepherd'.

"Excuse me," Diana said, her voice tight. "I really need to see Mr. Maxwell. We have a family gala to attend."

Will stopped and looked at her. He saw the cheap dress and the desperate look in her eyes. He immediately categorized her as another gold digger trying to force her way into a billionaire's life.

A cruel, mocking smile touched Will's lips. He despised women who tried to climb the social ladder with nothing but a cheap dress and desperate eyes. This pathetic woman deserved to be taught a harsh lesson by the real, terrifying boss upstairs.

"Ma'am, I am afraid that outfit won't get you past the VIP doors. But I know a place that can help you," Will said, his voice slick.

He led Diana down a quiet hallway and opened the door to the club's private styling room. Racks of designer gowns lined the walls.

Will pulled a hanger off the rack. "Try this. I guarantee Mr. Maxwell won't be able to look away."

Diana stared at the dress. It was a custom silver Versace gown made of liquid silk. It had barely any fabric. The back was completely exposed down to the waist, and a massive slit ran up the side, stopping dangerously close to the hip bone.

"This... this is too revealing," Diana stammered, her face flushing hot.

"Trust me," Will pushed the hanger into her hands. "The rules are different up there. If you want to catch a Maxwell's attention, you have to play the game."

He heavily implied that the dress was standard attire for the private parties upstairs.

Diana hesitated. Her fingers gripped the silk. She remembered Julian's mocking face. She remembered her father's threats. Maybe she did need to play the part to survive the night.

Driven by panic and Will's manipulation, she stepped behind the screen and put the dress on.

The cold silk clung to her skin like a second layer. She felt completely exposed. A deep sense of shame settled in her chest, but she forced herself to walk out.

Will whistled. "Perfect. I will take you to the most important Mr. Maxwell right now."

Diana assumed he meant Julian.

Will led her past the main lounge and swiped a card at a private elevator. He pressed the button for the top floor-the penthouse suite.

Will knew Theodore's order was to take her to "Mr. Maxwell." But everyone working at the Elysian Club knew there was only one true master of the building. The man who permanently rented the penthouse. Conway.

The elevator doors opened to a dimly lit, silent hallway. Will gestured toward the heavy double doors at the end. "Right through there."

He quickly stepped back into the elevator, the doors sliding shut, leaving Diana completely alone. Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs.