Patrick Jordan glanced at his phone, barely masking his indifference. Charley Jenkins had pinged him with a dinner invite on messaging app, but he couldn’t muster a single ounce of enthusiasm. His mind was still tangled up in the mess Noelle Kelley had made earlier at the office. If he didn’t come home tonight, who knew what she'd pull next? He told himself it was safer to just go home—keep the peace, keep control.
He’d barely settled into the backseat and told his driver to head home when Charley’s video call flickered through.
"Patrick, are you busy? Did you miss my message earlier?" Her voice dripped with that familiar, coaxing warmth that had carved out a soft spot in his heart years ago—thanks to some childhood memory he could never shake. He'd never been able to say no to her. Never wanted to let her down.
"Hmm," he answered, noncommittal.
Before she could push further, he cut in, "Charley, I’ve got a meeting tonight, and I’m already running late. Make sure you rest after work."
"Okay," she replied with a tight smile, failing to hide the disappointment creeping into her face. She hadn’t gotten a reply to her earlier text, so she’d decided to call a few of Patrick’s contacts to find out if he had dinner plans. Every single one had said no.
Now her mind was spiraling. Was Patrick dining with strangers? Or worse—was he heading home to Noelle? She couldn’t focus on the shoot. Feigning illness through her assistant to the director, she set out to stake out the area near Patrick’s villa.
Her assistant, already worn thin, was less than thrilled. The job was brutal enough—and playing babysitter to Charley’s mood swings, doing her laundry, running her errands, was all part of the gig. She hated meddling in other people’s family affairs, but as an assistant, she didn’t exactly have a choice. So she swallowed every complaint.
Patrick walked into a dark, silent living room. Where was everyone? No matter how late it got, Noelle always waited for him in that room—sometimes even asleep at the table, and he’d be the one to gently wake her and guide her upstairs.
He shrugged off his jacket, hung it by the entrance, and announced himself to the empty house. "I’m back." Silence.
A moment later, Mrs. Smith, the housekeeper, hurried in from another room, startled. "Mr. Jordan—you’re home tonight?"
Clearly, everyone had assumed he wasn’t coming back. So much so that no one had even bothered to wait up for him. He asked about Noelle.
"She mentioned she talked with you, said she was going to her parents’ house," Mrs. Smith replied, looking confused.
Patrick frowned. Left? Was she actually serious about the divorce?
He pictured the halls without her presence—empty, silent, no trace of her. The thought stirred an unexpected irritation in his chest. He dialed her number immediately.
Meanwhile, Charley’s car sat parked in the shadows nearby, her hopes pinned on the chance that Patrick had just popped home to change. She gripped the wheel, watching the villa like a hawk. If he’d gone inside, he wasn’t coming back out.
Noelle, meanwhile, had made it back to her family’s house, heart hammering in her chest. Facing them again filled her with dread—and shame over the wreckage of her past choices, when she’d kept going to her grandfather for money to prop up Patrick, a man who’d ultimately swallowed the Kelley family’s assets whole.
She wanted to see her family, but she was also relieved to find that the elders were all away on business. A small mercy.
Living a second time around, Noelle was painfully aware of how the world had shifted. Women were increasingly standing on their own—valuing their beauty, their wealth, and most of all, their own capability over romantic fantasies. The Kelley family looked solid on the surface, but they were always under threat—from betrayal within, pressure from without.
This time, Noelle was determined to fortify herself, to shield her family. She picked up a real estate proposal left on the table—the "Majestic Estate" project. She remembered it well: a villa development in a small town, modest in scale. Her grandfather had originally meant it as a training ground for her, but she’d been too caught up in chasing love to pay it any mind. The project had fallen into the hands of distant relatives—and later became a total mess.
"Noelle’s home!" Her grandfather, Walter Kelley, burst in with a delighted shout, returning from his trip earlier than expected. Overwhelmed, Noelle threw herself into his arms, tears streaming down her face—tears of regret for all her past mistakes.
In her previous life, she hadn’t been there during his final days. She’d been too tangled up in arguments with Patrick, her phone switched off for days, unreachable.
Walter patted his beloved granddaughter, sensing her distress. "What’s happened, Noelle? Did that boy Patrick bully you again? Grandpa will handle him."
Noelle shook her head, reassuring him. "He won’t bother me anymore."
Her phone buzzed with an unknown number. She ignored it, and announced instead, "I’m divorcing Patrick. The Jordan Group will pay back every cent they borrowed. The Kelley family won’t lose a dime."
Walter sighed, his expression heavy with concern. "How can you call that no loss? My precious granddaughter..." Her first marriage was over before it had truly begun.
Then he reconciled himself. "Better to leave an unhappy marriage. Grandpa will take care of you, always."
Noelle managed a smile, her eyes steady. "I’m going to grow fast, Grandpa. I promise. You’ll have a peaceful retirement."
Walter patted her head lovingly. "Seeing you happy every day is peace enough for me."
Noelle lifted the project proposal from the table. "Grandpa, can I take on this project?"
"Of course—it was always meant for you," Walter said, then instructed his secretary, "Announce tomorrow that Noelle will lead the 'Majestic Estate' project."
He walked her through the project’s core challenges, stressing, "Understand the relocation policies inside and out. Learn from the experienced staff tomorrow."
"Got it!" Noelle nodded.
Her phone buzzed again—this time, it genuinely annoyed her.
Walter glanced at the screen. "Who is it?"
"Just spam!" Noelle dismissed, blocking the number on the spot.
But learning from the company’s veterans wasn’t as easy as it sounded. They were friendly on the surface, yet kept her at arm’s length.
The executives were busy analyzing the situation, careful not to pick a side too soon or offend the wrong people. Nobody was sure if Noelle genuinely wanted to reclaim her place in the Kelley family, or if her sudden return was just a little spat with Patrick that would blow over in a few days.
If it was the latter, and Noelle bailed halfway, leaving the project to her relatives—well, anyone who’d coached her would be digging their own grave. So the seasoned executives offered her nothing of substance.
Damir Palmer caught wind through his inside source that Walter planned to hand the "Majestic Estate" project to Noelle. He couldn’t just sit back and let that happen. He’d already pocketed half the relocation fees. Shifting the project to her could put his embezzlement front and center. He soothed himself with the thought that Noelle—who’d always put romance before responsibility—would be clueless about the project’s inner workings.
When he reached the office and saw her, he faked surprise.
"Well, if it isn’t Noelle! What brings you here?" Damir exclaimed, still trying to play her for the naive girl she’d once been.
But Noelle was ready. She’d organized the project files into clearly color-coded sections for easy reference, and now she confronted him calmly.
"Damir, I have a few questions. First—why hasn’t the project, scheduled to start this month, shown any progress? Second—why hasn’t the relocation work, which began last year, moved forward at all? Third—how is it that more than half the relocation budget has been spent with zero results? Where’s the money?"
With each question, Damir's smile faded. He had underestimated her.
Noelle Kelley had a razor-sharp eye for detail, picking apart every flaw in the project with surgical precision — almost like she was the one running the show. That both grated on Damir's nerves and made him uneasy. Why should she, with the same Kelley last name, get to live like royalty from birth? Why had the Kelley Group poured a hundred million dollars into her marriage? Was Patrick Jordan really worth that kind of investment?
To Damir, that money could've been better spent funding his own visions. He could've built something real with that kind of backing. But unfortunately, Walter Kelley — Noelle's grandfather — had always been notoriously stingy when it came to Damir. Even his position at the Kelley Group felt like a handout, as if Walter had tossed him a few crumbs to keep him quiet. The projects that landed on his desk? Leftovers. This so-called venture in a one-horse town was just another dead end, leaving him no real room to get ahead.
After nearly a year of scraping by on scraps, Damir figured he'd earned the right to demand more. So when Walter yanked the project away and handed it to Noelle of all people — someone who looked totally out of her depth — it felt like a slap in the face. A public insult he couldn't just swallow.
Pushing down the simmering frustration, Damir forced a friendly smile. "Noelle, dear, which project are you talking about? I'm not sure I follow."
"The Majestic Estate project," Noelle replied, matching his smile with one just as practiced. "Grandpa mentioned last night that it's being handed over to me. The official notice might not be out yet, but I figured someone on your team would've given you a heads-up. So I thought we could talk about it directly."
Alarm bells went off in Damir's head. He needed to play this carefully.
Playing dumb, he said, "I haven't seen any official notifications, and my team wouldn't have access to that kind of info anyway. Who exactly told you this?"
Noelle didn't need to point fingers at his subordinates. She knew exactly which higher-ups in the company were in his corner. In her past life, after her grandfather's death and the messy fallout from her father's affair, the Kelley Group had fallen into the hands of the extended family. Their greed had been bottomless. When a cash flow crisis hit, not one of them lifted a finger. Noelle had been left to clean up the wreckage.
She'd done everything she could to honor her grandfather's dying wish and save the company, but by then, it was already too late. Even with the business instincts she'd sharpened over time, the corporation was hanging by a thread. This time around, she was determined to cut off every threat before it could do real damage.
"Damir," she said, tilting her head with an innocent smile, "can you answer the three questions I asked earlier?"
Damir's smile flickered. Straightening his posture, he switched to a condescending tone. "Noelle, dear, this project is extremely complicated with layers of details. I can't just sum it up on the spot."
"Then give me the short version," Noelle pressed.
Damir clenched his fists beneath the table, his face hardening as he dropped the act. "You've barely been with the company. I don't want this project to tank."
The message was obvious: he didn't trust her, and he hoped she'd see her own limits.
Noelle just smiled. "But Grandpa trusts me with it."
If the chairman of the Kelley Group believed in her, what right did Damir have to question her?
"And," she added, her voice dipping into something softly dangerous, "I've gone through the financial reports. Looks like this project is already losing money."
Damir froze. Did she really catch the inconsistencies? No way. He told himself she was just bluffing.
Determined, he shifted tactics. "Noelle, you're too inexperienced to understand the complexities here. Handling the relocation alone is brutal. It takes years of real experience."
Unfazed, Noelle dismantled his argument in one clean stroke. "The difficulty lies in the project itself, not in my taking over. And let's be real — you've been here less than a year. So what experience are you really talking about?"
Damir's scowl deepened, his patience wearing thin. "Noelle, even if my experience is limited, I have seasoned advisors behind me. Are you prepared to handle everything on your own? As for the suppliers — the current prices came from my negotiations. If you take over, costs are going to go up. Surely the board wouldn't pay more just to hand you control."
"Believe it or not, the announcements are already out," Noelle replied with a radiant smile, leaving Damir fuming.
He didn't have time to argue with her. He had to get to the suppliers — fast. Compete with Noelle? She was just a pretty face waiting to crack.
Oddly enough, Noelle had Damir's bluntness to thank. Since the company veterans refused to mentor her, she'd been forced to look for allies on the outside. Plus, the supplier's pricing was suspiciously low. What kind of pull did Damir have to score deals like that on a minor project?
Meeting her best friend Vivian Carter for lunch seemed like the best way to get a realistic sense of market rates. Noelle sent a confirmation text and headed straight to the bistro downtown.
The French bistro Vivian picked sat just two blocks away from the city's major studio lot. Noelle arrived early, choosing a secluded corner table by the floor-to-ceiling windows to review supplier files while she waited.
She had barely set her tablet down when a sharp shadow fell across her table.
"Why did you block my number?"
Patrick Jordan stood over her, his tailored suit immaculate, his face tight with furious disbelief. Just behind his shoulder, Charley Jenkins hung back near the entrance, trying and failing to look inconspicuous behind oversized designer shades. It was painfully obvious who had chosen this particular romantic spot.
Over the years, the man hardly ever reached out—unless he needed money. That particular disaster had ended with her laying down the law: he could borrow cash only if he married her. The only other calls had come when Charley Jenkins spread those nasty rumors, and Patrick rang up demanding to know why she was hurting an innocent girl.
So why the hell was he calling now?
A sudden thought hit her. "Did you call to tell me you've got time to hit the courthouse today?"
Patrick went quiet. Why did every word out of her mouth lately revolve around divorce? And why did she sound so damn cheerful about it? He'd figured she'd just crash with the Kelleys for a bit, kick up a fuss, and then come home. That's how it always went.
Instead of answering, he threw the question back at her. "What are you doing at some romantic restaurant in the middle of the day, all by yourself?"
"Well, what else do you do at a restaurant besides eat?" Noelle sensed something off and shot back, "And aren't you here too, Patrick? How dare you question me?"
Charley had picked the place, claiming it was close to the film set. Patrick only clocked that it was a romantic spot once he'd arrived, and he'd already asked Charley to switch venues to dodge any unnecessary drama.
Noelle let out a helpful little reminder. "Patrick, you might want to watch yourself when you're dining with your girlfriend. Try not to get snapped by the paparazzi. If word leaks that the Jordan-Kelley alliance blew up because you were cheating, the Jordan Group's stock is gonna tank—and that'd be embarrassing for everyone involved."
Patrick didn't appreciate the jab. "Don't call her my girlfriend. Charley Jenkins has never come between us."
On the contrary, Charley was a total sweetheart. She kept a low profile even during their meal, and she kept urging him to head home early so his family wouldn't worry.
Noelle arched an eyebrow, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. "Of course, she's never come between us! You should be blaming me for getting in the way of you two, right? But you can't blame me. Your precious muse turned you down and went abroad to study. The second she heard you'd married me, she came running back."
The truth was, Charley never imagined Patrick would marry into another family just for benefits. Why play these little games, only to scramble back later, hoping to pick up the scraps?
Patrick's face went dark. "Who are you here with?"
"None of your business!"
Before he could push further, Charley's call came through. Noelle smiled sadly. She'd once begged Patrick to spend more time with her, but he always claimed he was too busy. Apparently, he was only ever busy when it came to her—yet he somehow had time for a midday lunch date with Charley.
Once, Charley had bragged right in front of Noelle about being a VIP at several luxury hotels. It had made Noelle so furious she'd fainted on the street. She'd been so naive back then.
As Patrick got ready to leave, moving to another spot without saying a word to Noelle, she called out quickly, "Can we finalize the divorce this afternoon?"
He shot her a glare. "We agreed on Monday. What's the rush?"
"If it's not urgent, then why'd you call last night?"
Patrick walked off without answering. He didn't want to admit he'd called because she wasn't home waiting for him with dinner on the table. Ridiculous. Her cooking was worse than takeout anyway, and he wasn't interested. The idea of getting caught by the media for cheating was just absurd.
But as he mulled it over, something else nagged at him. Could Noelle have planned to meet some college sweetheart here? Just the thought stoked his anger.
He slid into his car and told his assistant, Elina Taylor, "Find someone to tail Noelle and see who she's been hanging out with lately."
Elina shot him a knowing look and nodded.
***
Vivian Carter arrived fashionably late, carrying her limited-edition handbag and taking those delicate little steps. "Sorry, Noelle, sweetie, I'm late," she fluttered her eyes dramatically, pleading for forgiveness. "I went all out for this lunch and took forever getting ready. Can you ever forgive me?"
Vivian was working under an assumed name at a small subsidiary owned by her family, where she'd met the man who would later ruin her life. Given the chance to prevent that, Noelle was determined to keep that nightmare from ever repeating.
Thrilled to reconnect with her lifelong friend, Noelle grabbed Vivian's hand eagerly. "I forgive you."
"Hmph!" Vivian pouted. "But I won't forgive you, Noelle. You and your husband have been so busy you never even thought to invite me out. Why suddenly ask me to lunch now? Aren't you always wrapped up with your 'dear Patrick'?"
"Not anymore. I swear I'll make more time for you."
Vivian looked skeptical. Noelle came clean. "I'm getting a divorce. And as of today, I'm officially joining the Kelley Group to run a project."
The news hit Vivian like a truck, leaving her completely speechless. As Noelle's best friend since childhood, Vivian knew all too well how much Noelle adored Patrick. She'd loved him for years—even knowing he had feelings for someone else—and still chose to marry him. Why the sudden change of heart?
Once the shock wore off, Vivian scooted over next to Noelle and wrapped her in a tight hug. "Don't be sad. You can just marry into my family instead. I'll make my brother marry you!"
Noelle chuckled at that. "Stop joking around. Tell me about the info I asked you to dig up."
Vivian let her go and opened up her chat with her brother on messaging app, showing Noelle a screenshot he'd sent. "This is a contract with one of your family's suppliers."
The total contract was ten times larger than the Majestic Estate project, yet its per-unit cost was somehow even higher than the rate Damir Palmer had negotiated. That didn't add up. The larger the contract, the lower the per-unit price should have been—not higher. How could buying a whole cartload cost more per apple than buying one?
Putting the pieces together with what she knew was coming, Noelle understood. The relocation delay was because Damir had been embezzling settlement funds to pay off suppliers. He was paying suppliers as much as—or even more than—other families, but he insisted on keeping the contractual amount low. By presenting these artificially low figures to the board, he looked like a genius, landing more projects and siphoning off even more cash. A classic case of robbing Peter to pay Paul.
No wonder the Kelley Group eventually fell into Noelle's hands as an empty shell.
Furious at the revelation, Vivian fumed, "Damir is such a backstabber, lining his own pockets at the Kelley Group's expense!"
Noelle's eyes gleamed with cold, steely resolve. "I won't let him get away with it."
