"Paisley, don't be scared, okay? I'm right here. As long as I'm around, Clive won't lay a finger on you. You said it yourself - you're not in love with him. You love me. So come with me. Please. It's dangerous staying here with him!"

Ethan's voice rang out through the villa, loud and desperate. But no one was listening.

Security had already stepped in, ready to escort him out.

Still, Ethan clung to the doorframe like a man possessed, refusing to budge.

He wasn't leaving without Paisley.

Because without her, he had no leverage. No Hughes family shares. No backup plan.

Clive stood silently nearby, face unreadable. But the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers curled into fists - he was one second away from snapping.

And then Paisley spoke.

"Ethan, let's get one thing straight." Her voice was sharp, steady. "I may not love Clive. But I'd still rather be Mrs. Harrington than waste another second on a loser like you."

Ethan's eyes widened.

"Love? That can grow. But you? You offer nothing. No name, no future, no power. Why would I trade diamonds for dirt?"

She took a step forward, her gaze like ice. "You honestly thought you had a chance? That's pathetic. Get him out of here. If he shows his face again, call security."

Clive didn't say a word, but the tension in him eased. His storm had passed - because of her.

Ethan was dragged out like garbage, disbelief painted across his face.

He couldn't understand it.

This wasn't the Paisley he knew.

The girl who'd once followed him like a shadow... was now a stranger with claws.

But this was far from over. He'd be back. And next time, he wouldn't leave empty-handed.

Once the door slammed shut behind him, Paisley finally turned to Clive.

Her heart was steady, but her mind raced.

She still didn't fully understand Clive.

Did he ever have feelings for her? It didn't seem like it.

After all, in their last life, he made her part of a cold transaction. Married her, locked her away, and watched as the Hughes family collapsed under his hand.

He was ruthless. Brilliant. Untouchable.

The heir to the Harrington empire. A man who ruled both the boardroom and the shadows.

And women flocked to him like moths to flame - especially one.

His first love.

The one he never seemed to forget.

So why had he agreed to marry her back then?

Paisley couldn't figure it out. But one thing was clear: she wasn't going to be anyone's victim this time.

She crossed her arms and faced him directly.

"So, Clive," she said calmly. "I know we're married now. But let's not pretend this is something it's not."

Her voice was even. Mature. Cold.

"You don't have feelings for me. That's fine. I'm not here to mess with your life. Let's just treat this marriage like a performance. I won't get in your way, and you don't get in mine."

There. She said it. Set the terms before he could.

Back then, she didn't walk away from Clive immediately.

But part of her heart had died at the altar.

They were just about to exchange rings - right at that moment - when his so-called first love barged in, tears streaming down her face. The entire venue froze. Cameras flashed. The media caught everything.

And Clive? He didn't hesitate. He walked off the stage and took her away.

Just like that.

Leaving Paisley standing there, alone, in her wedding gown.

He came back later, like nothing had happened. The ceremony went on. The vows were said. The rings exchanged.

But something inside her had already shattered. She tried to live with it. Tried to play the perfect wife. But with every passing day, the silence grew louder, and the distance colder.

Eventually, she left.

Ran straight into Ethan's waiting arms.

And when she left the Harrington estate, she didn't leave quietly.

She made a scene. Let them all know exactly how she felt. The perfect little marriage they'd all expected? Shattered.

From that moment on, everything between her and Clive fell apart.

But this time?

This time, she was putting it all on the table from the start.

If he wanted to see his precious first love, fine. She wouldn't stop him.

As long as he didn't interfere with her.

It was a perfect deal.

She saved his reputation. He stayed out of her business.

And when the time came for divorce, they could walk away clean.

Or at least, that was the plan.

"Performance?"

Clive's expression shifted instantly - whatever brief calm he'd found just moments ago vanished without a trace.

A performance?

She thought this marriage - to him - was nothing but an act?

Like he was some desperate man begging for someone to play pretend?

Paisley, meanwhile, kept speaking, entirely unaware of the temperature drop in the room. For a summer afternoon, the air had turned to ice.

"Yeah," she said, composed. "In front of the press, around your family at the Harrington estate - I'll be the perfect wife. No drama, no trouble. And when the day comes that you want someone else to wear the title of Mrs. Harrington, I'll walk away. Quiet and clean."

She meant every word.

In her mind, she was doing him a favor.

He had someone else in his heart, didn't he? That woman who showed up crying at their wedding, the one he disappeared with right before the vows?

Paisley thought she understood: he'd only married her because the family demanded it. So now she was offering him a way out - a logical, mature arrangement.

So why did Clive suddenly lose it?

Before she could react, he stepped forward and slammed her against the wall.

The shift was instant.

One second he was silent. The next, the room shrank under the weight of his fury.

His hand pressed beside her head. His body caged hers. His breath was ragged, furious.

"Paisley," he growled, voice low and dangerous. "You're mine. For life. Even in death, you'll be buried with the Harringtons. I'm not divorcing you. Don't even think about running."

His eyes were dark, wild - like a lion cornering prey. Terrifying. Unrelenting.

Paisley's heart raced.

Where had she misstepped? Why had her calm proposal triggered such rage?

But one thing was clear: if he thought he could lock her up again like before, he was dead wrong.

Still, she knew from experience - pushing him when he was like this would only make things worse.

So she changed tactics.

Her voice softened. "Clive... it hurts. Please don't hold me like this. Let me go, okay?"

The tears in her eyes weren't fake - but they were strategic.

Some things never changed. Playing soft still worked better than fighting fire with fire.

Sure enough, his grip loosened. His eyes flicked across her face, lingering on the shimmer in her lashes.

A beat passed.

Then without a word, he turned and walked out.

As the door shut behind him, the warmth in her eyes vanished, replaced by ice.

He didn't want a divorce?

Fine.

Let's see how long he could handle her playing by her own rules.

*****

Next day, in a café.

Paisley flipped through the documents Clive's secretary, Patrick Carter, had put together - his likes, dislikes, ideal woman, even the tiniest quirks were all there.

Just then, she received an anonymous email. Attached were pictures of a man and a woman dining at a super exclusive, couples-only restaurant - you had to book it a week in advance.

No prize for guessing who the man was: her husband, the same guy who'd just said he'd never divorce her.

The woman? Paisley remembered her well. That same tear-streaked face who'd caused a scene at her wedding - unforgettable.

Figures. Men say one thing and do another. Staring at the screen, all she could think was: what a joke.

So what did she do? Called up her closest guy friend, Lucas Morgan. Guy was a genius hacker - she needed someone skilled to dig into Ethan's company finances.

And let's be honest, she wasn't just looking for dirt. This was payback.

If Clive could flaunt his dinner dates, so could she.

Time to remind him that she wasn't someone to be taken for granted.

"This one, that one, and the pink one too." Paisley pointed lazily at a few handbags as the sales assistant rushed to take them down.

"Ma'am, would you like me to wrap these up for you?"

"Nope, just leave these out. Wrap up all the rest and send them to Rosepine Estate, No. 85."

"W-Wait, ma'am, are you serious?"

The assistant's face was full of disbelief. In response, Paisley pulled out a black credit card and handed it over. It was a limited edition worldwide, a secondary card Clive had given her on the second day of their marriage. The main card, of course, was still with him.

She used to think she was above all this. Never touched the card in her past life. But now? No need to play nice anymore.

According to the info she dug up, Clive couldn't stand gold-digging women. So hey, maybe this was her shot. Right now he was stuck in his sweet little fairy-tale romance with his one true love, so if she went all-in as the "material girl" and even hung out with other guys, maybe, just maybe, he'd snap and file for divorce.

Lucas, who had been tagging along beside her, gave her a thumbs up. "You're in a league of your own when it comes to spending money. Other women can't even compete."

Paisley raised an eyebrow. "Jealous much?"

Lucas chuckled, shaking his head. He knew exactly what she was scheming. After all, Paisley's secrets weren't really secrets to him - he had full access.

"You're really that eager to split with Clive?" he asked.

Damn right.

She had to get out of this marriage. Who knew if Clive would one day try to swallow Hughes Group whole? She needed to cut ties ASAP and take over from her grandfather.

"Quit nagging. I'm already annoyed. Just get moving on the stuff I asked - Ethan's company accounts. Don't slack."

"Relax, when have I ever messed up a job you gave me? So, what's next on your evil genius list?" Lucas was dying to know what she had in mind, family drama and all.

"Time to take off the mask. Didn't the guy say he hated jealous, overdramatic women? I'm gonna make a scene, go full drama queen, cry, scream, threaten - everything. Divorce, here I come."

*****

Back at the office, Clive was in the middle of a meeting when his phone buzzed with a credit card alert. He glanced down at the number and blinked.

Uh... what did his wife just buy?

It's not like he cared about the money. But that kind of shopping spree? Totally out of character for Paisley.

The meeting was about this year's new investment projects. Tiffany Evans came over and handed him a cup of blue mountain coffee, trying to keep him alert.

Just as things heated up, a sudden ringtone cut through the serious atmosphere.

Everyone fell dead silent.

Clive picked up. The voice on the other end? Cold. Sharp. All edge.

"Clive Harrington, get home. Now."

She used his full name - with the kind of tone that made grown men want to vanish.

"I'm in a meeting," Clive explained, oddly calm, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"Did I stutter? I said now." Paisley doubled down, taking unreasonable to a whole new level.

"Fine. Wait for me." Clive ended the call, paused the meeting, and told his assistant to arrange for a ride home - leaving a room full of execs too afraid to even breathe.