"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.

Clive showed up out of the blue, totally catching Paisley off guard. She'd stirred up trouble on purpose, having confirmed with Patrick that Clive was stuck in a super important meeting.

The whole call had just been her trying to push his buttons - get on his nerves, make him hate her.

But what happened?

Now Paisley was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, locking eyes with Clive. Her mind blanked hard - she couldn't even find the words. In the end, he spoke up first.

"You seemed desperate to talk. What's the urgency?" Clive stood there with that same frosty expression, like the world owed him something.

"I want a divorce." Paisley took a second to gather herself, then went all in with her drama mode.

"Care to explain why?" Clive raised an eyebrow, completely unshaken, like none of this was surprising.

What Paisley didn't know was Patrick had already spilled everything to Clive. Her wild act? Totally pointless.

"You went to that couple's restaurant with your precious ex, right? The one you have to book a week in advance? That's cheating while married. I think I've got every right to walk." Her accusations came out sharp and clear - but the guy barely reacted.

"Who are you talking about?" Clive frowned slightly. "Which ex?"

"You've gotta be kidding me. The one who cried like she was auditioning for a soap at our wedding! Don't act clueless now. What, you think I'm that naive?" Paisley shot back, clearly hoping he'd finally drop it and just admit he's still into someone else. That maybe he'd say, "You're too much, we're done." But nope. Nothing.

"It was just dinner, not a death sentence." Clive said it like this was no biggie - like dinner with another woman while married was as casual as ordering takeout.

Paisley couldn't believe how calm he was - talk about infuriating. She jumped off the sofa, slid into her slippers and declared, "I'm not asking for your opinion. I'm telling you - we're getting divorced."

Then she stormed off to the master bedroom to pack like she was leaving for good.

She'd almost finished when Clive, still maddeningly calm, leaned against the doorframe and said, "Grandpa wants us home for dinner tonight. Get changed. It's almost time to head out."

What?!

Paisley blinked. She spoke English, right? Did Clive suddenly forget how to process words?

Based on everything Patrick ever said about Clive - and what she'd known about him before - she was sure this kind of crazy would at least spark some anger.

But nope. Not even annoyance. The guy was just... shameless now?

Without even glancing his way, Paisley grabbed her suitcase and headed for the door. Except, it was heavy as hell, got stuck by the bed, and before she could move it again, Clive had already stepped in and wrapped an arm around her waist.

Then, just like that, she was hoisted up and dumped back on the massive bed.

"What the hell are you doing?" Paisley's eyes flared as she glared at him - this man had seriously lost it.

"Think about your dad's company - Hughes Group. Your mom begging us to stay together. Our marriage isn't just about us. The whole Harrington dowry went into patching up the holes in your family's business. You really think you get to decide alone?"

After hearing all that, Paisley finally got it. Divorce? Not her call. Clive was the one holding the cards here. Furious, she mumbled under her breath, "You manipulative jerk. Always playing me like a damn chess piece."