Garrick froze. The name hit him like a bucket of ice water.

"Holloway?" Garrick's voice cracked, the rage replaced by panic. "What are you doing here? This is family business!"

Holloway didn't answer. He simply adjusted his grip on Garrick's wrist.

A sharp, wet crack echoed through the dressing room.

Garrick let out a high-pitched scream, dropping to his knees. His wrist hung at an unnatural angle, the joint visibly dislocated.

Lacey shrieked, scrambling backward, her burned arm cradled against her chest. She stared at Holloway in horror.

Ariel gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. She knew Holloway was efficient, but this was brutal, instantaneous violence.

Holloway released Garrick, letting him collapse onto the floor, clutching his swollen wrist. Holloway didn't even glance at the whimpering man. He calmly straightened his cuffs, adjusting the white silk so it was perfectly aligned.

Then, he turned to Ariel.

He dipped his chin, his posture shifting from lethal soldier to respectful servant. It was a bow of absolute deference.

"Miss Melton," Holloway said, his voice smooth and respectful. "I apologize for the delay. Are you alright?"

Miss Melton. Not Mrs. Tillman. Not Garrick's wife.

Garrick, through gritted teeth and tears of pain, glared up at them. "Holloway! Are you insane? You break my arm, and then you bow to her? She's nothing! She's my discarded trash!"

Lacey chimed in, her voice shrill. "She's just a broke, useless ex-wife! You're going to lose your job over this!"

Holloway slowly turned his head to look at them. His eyes were flat, dead, and colder than the Arctic. It was a look that promised violence if they spoke another word.

Garrick and Lacey fell silent, the fear choking their words.

Holloway looked back at Ariel. "The car is waiting, Miss Melton. Mr. Tillman has asked me to bring you home."

Home. The word hung in the air, heavy with implication.

Garrick's face went pale. "Home? What home? She's homeless! She's a beggar!"

Lacey's mind raced, her eyes narrowing as she pieced together a twisted explanation. "Oh my god," she sneered, a cruel smile returning to her face. "Garrick, don't you see? She went straight to your uncle. She sold herself to him. That's why he's protecting her. She's his whore."

The idea made sense to Garrick. It was the only thing that made sense. Ariel, the desperate, infertile woman, had traded her body for a roof over her head.

Jealousy, pride, and disgust warred on Garrick's face. "You scheming bitch," he spat. "You seduced my uncle? You're disgusting!"

Holloway watched them for a moment, a flicker of something that might have been pity crossing his features before it was replaced by cold amusement.

He didn't argue. He didn't explain.

He just looked at them, enunciating each word with surgical precision, and dropped the bomb.

"Mr. Garrick," Holloway said, his voice echoing in the sudden silence. "You are mistaken."

Lacey let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "Mistaken? About what? We all know Ariel has nothing else to offer. Why else would a man like Holden Tillman look twice at her?"

Holloway turned his gaze to Lacey. The sheer contempt in his eyes made her laughter die in her throat.

"Miss Melton did not trade anything for Mr. Tillman's protection," Holloway stated, his tone as dry and factual as a legal brief. "She is, in fact, Mr. Tillman's official and sole fiancée."

The words landed like a grenade.

The room went dead silent. Even the rain seemed to stop pounding against the window.

Garrick stared at Holloway, his mouth hanging open, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated shock. The pain in his wrist seemed to be forgotten as his brain short-circuited.

Lacey looked like she had been slapped. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Fiancée? The word echoed in her mind, tearing apart her reality.

Ariel? The woman they had thrown out into the rain? The woman they had called a barren hen? She was going to marry the most powerful man in New York?

"No," Garrick whispered, shaking his head violently. "No, that's impossible. She's nothing. She's a Melton. She's broken. Uncle Holden wouldn't... he wouldn't marry her."

He turned his wild eyes on Ariel, seeing her in a new light-a terrifying one. "What did you do? How did you trick him?"

Holloway ignored Garrick's breakdown. He continued, his voice steady and merciless.

"Therefore," Holloway said, pausing to let the information sink in, "in the eyes of the law and the family, she is now your elder."

He looked down at Garrick, who was still kneeling on the floor. "And your actions just now-raising a hand to her, injuring her-constitute an assault on the family patriarch's fiancée. A direct violation of family protocol."

Each word was a hammer blow, shattering what little composure Garrick had left. He hadn't just attacked his ex-wife. He had attacked Holden Tillman's woman. He had attacked his aunt.

Lacey's face was ashen. The burn on her arm seemed insignificant now compared to the icy dread gripping her heart. Her pregnancy, her position as Garrick's mistress-they were nothing compared to the power of the woman standing in front of her.

She finally understood the bow. She understood the respect.

Holloway turned back to Ariel, inclining his head once more. "Miss Melton, the air in this room is quite foul. May I suggest we leave?"

He paused, his gaze flicking briefly to Garrick and Lacey, ensuring they were listening.

"After all, you are the future mistress of Serenity Estate."

Mistress. The title was a death knell to Lacey's dreams. She wasn't going to be the lady of the house. She was never going to be anything but the woman who slept with a lesser Tillman.

Garrick slumped against the wall, his eyes staring blankly at the floor. His world had just been turned upside down, and he couldn't process it.

The silence in the dressing room was thick, suffocating.

Ariel looked at the two people who had made her life a living hell. The shock on their faces, the fear in their eyes-it should have been enough. But it wasn't. The anger, the humiliation, the three years of being told she was worthless... it demanded more.

She stepped forward, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. She stopped right in front of Garrick, who was still slumped on the floor, looking up at her with a mixture of terror and disbelief.

"Garrick," Ariel said, her voice soft but cutting. "Your biggest flaw was always believing that just because you had the Tillman name, you were actually a Tillman."

Garrick flinched as if she had struck him.

"You forget," Ariel continued, looking down at him with cold pity. "Your father was a side branch. He died with nothing. This house, your job, your trust fund-every single thing you own exists solely because Holden allows it. It's his charity."

The color drained from Garrick's face. This was the secret everyone knew but no one spoke aloud. He was a kept man, playing at being a lord.

Ariel leaned down, her face inches from his. "You treated me like garbage, Garrick," she whispered, her voice lethal. "But you never realized that in Holden's eyes, you're the trash. You always have been."

The words hit Garrick harder than the broken wrist. His pride, his ego, the fragile masculinity he had built on the backs of others-shattered.

Lacey stepped forward, her face twisted in anger. "How dare you-"

Ariel shot her a look so venomous that Lacey stumbled backward, her mouth snapping shut.

Ariel straightened up, the pity in her eyes turning to ice.

Holloway's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, then looked up at the room.

"Mr. Garrick," Holloway announced, his voice ringing with authority. "Mr. Holden Tillman has asked me to relay a message to you."

Garrick looked up, his eyes hollow.

"Mr. Tillman's instructions are as follows," Holloway recited, his voice cold and impersonal, devoid of any hint of emotion. "Ariel Melton's value is not something you are qualified to assess."

He let the words hang in the air for a moment before continuing.

"From this moment forward, she is to be considered an asset of the Tillman family. And she is not to be touched."

The message was brutal in its simplicity. It was not a romantic declaration, but a corporate edict. It elevated Ariel to the status of a protected investment, while reducing Garrick to an incompetent subordinate who had mishandled company property.

Garrick let out a broken sob, sliding further down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, his head in his uninjured hand. "No," he mumbled, over and over. "It's not fair..."

Lacey was shaking. She looked at Garrick, the man she had sacrificed her reputation for, and saw a loser. A broke, broken loser. And she had tied her wagon to his star just as it was falling out of the sky.

Ariel felt no joy. Only a cold, clean emptiness. The wound was still there, but the poison had been cut out.

She picked up the box containing her mother's things, holding it securely against her chest. She turned and walked toward the door.

Holloway moved to open it for her, his posture impeccable.

But as he reached the threshold, he stopped. He turned back, his hand resting on the doorframe.

"There is one more matter," Holloway said, his voice flat. "Regarding the assets."