Tiffany looked perfectly put-together, arms full of files - classic capable career woman vibes.

Paisley felt a headache coming on. She came to the company hoping to see Clive, but instead, ran straight into his precious first love.

Instead of heading to Clive's office, Tiffany took her straight into the conference room.

"Would you like some coffee, Miss Hughes? Mr. Harrington's still in a meeting, and his office is empty right now, so I brought you here. Hope that's okay with you."

Paisley got the message loud and clear - oh, so this was her way of marking territory?

Basically, without Clive around, even as his wife, Paisley wasn't welcome in his office. She was an outsider.

"Thanks." Paisley smiled politely. Since she was already here, she might as well get down to business.

Like pissing off Clive's old flame to push him into a divorce.

She took a moment to gather her thoughts, took a sip of coffee, then said casually, "You're Tiffany, right? Cute name. Fits you. You probably know who I am and what I'm here for, don't you?"

Tiffany blinked, clearly caught off guard by how blunt she was.

Paisley chuckled and went on, "You crashed my wedding. Surely you didn't think I came here just to chat over coffee, right?"

Even sitting in a random conference room, she carried herself like a queen. Confident, unfazed. She didn't come to play nice, after all.

Tiffany hesitated for a long moment, then finally muttered in a sheepish voice, "Miss Hughes, I'm sorry..."

Wow.

She legit apologized. That was practically a confession, right?

Paisley wasn't sure if Clive was worth the mess, but Tiffany? She seemed head over heels. Otherwise, why would she sign up to be the other woman?

"Sorry doesn't mean much." Paisley smiled and set her coffee down. "How about this - how much do you want to leave my husband alone?"

Sure enough, Tiffany looked like she just got slapped. Eyes wide, mouth slightly open. Yep, money talk really hits these 'true love' types where it hurts.

Her voice rose slightly as she stared at Paisley in shock. "Miss Hughes, are you trying to insult me?"

Insult? Yep.

Paisley nodded. "I literally asked you to name a price. What did you think that meant? What - two, maybe three million to walk away? Take the cash, and I'll promise to leave you alone. But you'd better keep your word."

Tiffany looked devastated. She frowned, bit her lip, then murmured, "I'm sorry, Miss Hughes. I get that it was wrong to crash the wedding. I really do. But you can't just disrespect what Clive and I have."

Now that's more like it.

If Tiffany had taken the money and bounced, Paisley might've actually lost a bit of respect for her.

As she saw Clive approaching from the other side of the room, Paisley seized the golden opportunity. Clasping Tiffany's wrist tightly, she leaned in and said, "Let me make this crystal clear - Clive is my husband. You, the side chick, will never be anything more. So either walk away now, or I'll have someone help you out the door."

Paisley figured she'd already crossed a line with what she said - surely Clive would blow up this time.

Then they could finally have a clean break. She could go live her life without the shadow of being "Mrs. Harrington" ruining everything she wanted to try.

As expected, Clive strode in with a dark face and pushed the door open. His first words: "Who exactly do you want to kick out?"

Yup, he was pissed.

Paisley told herself to calm down - if she got kicked out for this, all the better. Goal achieved, right? No point stressing over mere formalities.

Tiffany, standing off to the side, clearly knew how to read the room. Seeing Clive's grim expression, she quickly stepped forward and said, "Clive, don't get mad. Miss Hughes didn't mean it like that... She's probably just upset."

Paisley looked at Tiffany, all soft-spoken and delicate - classic first love material. Playing the long game, no doubt.

Clive furrowed his brows, silent for a beat, then asked in return, "Oh? Upset? What for?"

What for?

Tiffany was clearly caught off guard. It took her a second before she replied, "Maybe... she's jealous?"

As soon as Tiffany got that out, Paisley clearly saw Clive actually smile.

Wait, he smiled?

Then he threw out, "Come with me to my office."

Seriously? That's not how this was supposed to go. The guy was just all doom and thunder - looked like he was about to erupt. She was ready to get rained on.

Now... one "she's jealous" and suddenly it's all sunshine again?

What kind of logic was that?

"Patrick ordered takeout from Velvet & Ash. You're really not coming?" Clive had only dropped by to grab her for lunch - and found her and Tiffany mid showdown instead.

And honestly? The fact that Paisley might be jealous kind of made his day.

"You're the best, babe. Thanks, hubbie." Paisley glanced at Tiffany, then brazenly walked past her and planted a kiss right on Clive's cheek.

Hang in there, Paisley. Don't blow your cover.

Because seriously, if Clive had a thing for Tiffany and actually cared about her, there's no way he'd just let her take this kind of hit, right?

But next thing Paisley knew, Clive took her hand - and didn't let go. Fingers interlocked - they left the conference room together.

Once inside the office, Paisley switched right into her dramatic mode. Munching down on the Velvet & Ash food, she threw out, "Clive, don't think that bribing me with fancy lunch earns you a pass. That sneaky little fox of yours? I'm not letting her off that easy, got it? I'm not exactly a pushover. If you won't sign those divorce papers, fine. We'll just keep dragging this out. Let's see who gives in first - your sweet little fox or stubborn old me."

Clive didn't say a word, just kept eating.

To Paisley, that silence meant only one thing - he felt guilty.

So he's still pushing this act, huh? For Granddad Harrington's sake?

"You divorce me, and I can keep up appearances around your grandpa. I'll even keep pretending for a while," she added, figuring she'd cleared every single hurdle.

But Clive's face just got darker.

"Why are you making this so hard for yourself? Eat your food. You're Mrs. Harrington now. You always will be. You really wanna keep fighting me?" His tone was low, but there was a threat buried underneath.

That made Paisley's head ache.

She wasn't in Clive's league, not really. If she kept testing him, who knew? Maybe he'd lock her up again just like before. And that... wasn't just a scare tactic.

But what - he wouldn't even give his first love a real title?

Paisley held a manager title at Clive's company, and her office was - unsurprisingly - inside his. She honestly didn't care how important the title was or how much power it actually gave her.

In her eyes, it was just Clive being Clive - trying to keep tabs on her.

So naturally, from the get-go, she wasn't thrilled. The desk? Didn't like it. Swapped it for one she personally picked. The chair? Too bland. She replaced it with a ridiculous pink one that totally clashed with Clive's minimalist vibe.

And it didn't stop there. She ditched the green plants in favor of lilies, demanded cappuccino over whatever sad excuse of coffee they had before. After all those swaps, she honestly ran out of things to nitpick. So now? She just lay there sulking like a grumpy cat.

It sucked enough not having anything to do, but being stuck right under Clive's nose made it ten times worse.

Revenge mode: activated. During work hours, Paisley blasted her video games like it was a LAN party. Of course, she made Clive upgrade the computer setup just for this moment.

The noise? Infuriating. Right when Tiffany walked in to hand Clive a document to sign, Paisley pounced with a fresh dose of drama.

"Babe, they're bullying me! Can you finish up and come help your poor wife?"

Even Paisley mentally face-palmed herself at the pure drama. She knew she was being a drama queen and honestly, if Clive still kept cool after all this, props to him.

But Clive just sighed and told Tiffany, "Leave it here. You can go."

Tiffany glanced at Paisley and, probably used to the circus by now, quietly made her exit.

Once she was out, Paisley slid back to her seat, game ready - until the internet cable got yanked.

"Mrs. Harrington, I brought you in to work, not to mess around and pick fights with my assistant," Clive said, frowning hard.

Oh? Hit a nerve?

Paisley's lips tugged up into a smirk. "What, upset now? If you care so much about your precious ex-crush, maybe we should just get a divorce. That way, I won't be around to bully her anymore."

That was it. Clive finally realized - this whole thing? She'd been baiting him.

Divorce? As if.

She stepped through the Harrington doors - no way he was gonna just let her walk out.

He reached out, lifting her chin, eyes narrowing as he looked right into her. It was intense - like pee-your-pants intense.

"There's no divorce in my world. Only death. You sure you want to push it?"

Paisley's eyes widened slightly. Dang, that was close. And sure, he looked good up close - fine. But threatening your wife? Seriously? Waste of a handsome face.

Game officially ruined.

Plus, Clive was basically leaning his whole body over hers - way too much closeness. That look on his face? In their past life, it always led to sex. Fast, hard, against-the-wall kind of sex.

And now, with him leaning over her like that, it was giving major déjà vu. They were still legally married... and dangerously close to relapsing.

Next thing, she shoved him away and stormed off to the bathroom.

Only when she got in there did it hit her - what was she running from? Why was she still chickening out like before?

So what if Clive didn't want a divorce? That just meant she could use the Mrs. Harrington title however she pleased.

After all, he's the one refusing to let go. Not her.