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."

Spencer Martin had been expecting Noelle Kelley’s visit ever since Damir Palmer tipped him off. He'd never met the heiress in person, but he'd certainly heard the buzz around her and Patrick Jordan's so-called fairy-tale wedding. The public loved reading into every glance they exchanged in photographs, spinning stories left and right—though nobody could deny they made one hell of a good-looking couple. Patrick had the kind of face that made other men green with envy, while Noelle's polished beauty had made her the subject of endless gossip.

Sitting across from him now, Noelle looked even softer and more captivating without all the bridal fanfare. Her beige wool skirt suit—picked out by her friend Vivian Carter—gave off just the right mix of warmth and professionalism. As Vivian had put it, she was old enough to dress with a little more authority.

Maia Castro, Noelle's new assistant, couldn't help but notice how glued Spencer’s eyes were to her boss—like he was straight-up awestruck. She quickly pulled the contract from the folder and slid it across the table. “Mr. Martin, this is the partnership agreement. We were going to send it to your office, but Ms. Kelley thought it best to hand-deliver it.”

Spencer snapped back to reality, nodding a little too eagerly. “It's our first time meeting. I don't recall ever seeing Ms. Kelley around the Kelley Group.”

His tone was polite, but his gaze kept drifting back to Noelle like he couldn't help himself.

Maia frowned.

By keeping the address formal, Spencer was making it clear that he intended to keep the relationship strictly businesslike. It was a quiet little power play.

Noelle didn't flinch. She just smiled. “I focused on my family after getting married. I've only recently come back to the business.”

Spencer deliberately slowed his speech. “Oh... so you're just now rejoining the workforce.”

“I met your brother, Logan, at a wedding once,” Noelle said, as if recalling a pleasant memory. “You two look strikingly similar—not just in appearance, but in the way you carry yourselves.”

She said it on purpose. She didn't really know Logan Martin that well, but dropping his name casually was part of her game.

Spencer kept his face calm, but inside he was buzzing. Coming from a lesser branch of the Martin family—kind of like Damir's position in the Kelley family—he'd always felt overlooked. Even when he and Logan dressed the same, Logan got praised for his elegance while Spencer felt like the knock-off version. So hearing Noelle say he resembled Logan? That genuinely made his day.

He'd walked into this meeting planning to make Noelle—this so-called frivolous housewife—squirm. But now he was already softening. “My apologies, Ms. Kelley,” Spencer said, and this time it sounded real. “But I can't sign this contract just yet.”

“Why not?”

Spencer kept his tone courteous, but there was no budging him. “I owe Damir a favor. Only he can pull off this project at this price. Besides, you don't exactly have the experience.”

“Oh, a favor to Damir...” Noelle mimicked his tone, nodding like she totally got it.

Just as Spencer thought he'd played this perfectly, Noelle's demeanor went cold. “The favor you're talking about—that's using 'Majestic Estate's' relocation funds to cover your current project's profits, isn't it?”

All the color drained from Spencer's face.

“Ms. Kelley,” he said carefully, “You need proof to throw around accusations like that. What relocation funds?”

Noelle smiled, then nodded at Maia, who set the evidence down in front of Spencer.

Noelle spoke gently, almost kindly. “Do you know why the Kelley Group pulled Damir off the project?”

“'Majestic Estate' has been stuck for ages because of those relocation issues. You really think it's just stubborn villagers holding things up?”

“With how fast this city's developing, time is money. The residents there are itching for developers to pay relocation fees so they can boost the local economy. So Damir's delays—that wasn't on the residents, was it? That was him going around the Kelley Group.”

Spencer flipped through the records, completely speechless. He'd wanted to use his position inside the Martin family to his advantage, but he hadn't signed up for legal trouble. How was he supposed to know Damir was treating those relocation funds like his own personal piggy bank?

Noelle's voice was as gentle as her outfit suggested. “Mr. Martin, if Logan were to find out...”

Spencer caught her meaning instantly. He grabbed the contract Maia had slid over earlier and shoved it toward his own assistant, ordering him to stamp it on the spot. Then he turned to Noelle, pleading. "Let's sign at this price, and please—keep this whole thing confidential. As for the money Damir passed on to me, I'll... pay it back. Gradually."

He'd already spent the cash, so paying it all back at once? Not happening.

Noelle gave Maia another look, and Maia promptly produced a second contract.

Noelle explained, “This is for a different project—similar scale to 'Majestic Estate'. Let's sign at the same rate, Mr. Martin.”

“Alright, alright.”

Spencer agreed without missing a beat.

Using the Martin family's resources to fix his own mess and keep Noelle from exposing him? Seemed like a fair trade.

As she was leaving, Noelle made Spencer promise to keep this meeting with Damir under wraps. The Kelley Group couldn't risk Damir catching wind of their moves.

Spencer nodded. “Thank you, Ms. Kelley!”

And honestly? With the Kelley Group backing him, Spencer felt a little less like Logan's shadow.

*

Leaving Maia to handle the contract details, Noelle headed to Harvest Cafe. She needed outside help with the relocation problem, and Vivian had set her up with an expert.

As she approached the reserved table, she was surprised to find a young man in a checkered shirt and jeans, looking more like a graduate student than a corporate consultant. “You're the expert Logan arranged to brief me?”

The young man stood up suddenly, his six-foot frame towering over her.

“It's you?”

Noelle blinked. “Have we met?”

“Unforgettable!” The words came out through clenched teeth, leaving her completely lost.

He was even more eager than she was, jumping straight into her questions, and she forced herself to refocus.

While Noelle scribbled notes, Jamie texted Logan, demanding to know what the hell was going on.

Logan had made it sound like she needed programming help—but she was asking about relocation logistics.

Logan's reply was short and sweet: “Bro, do me a solid. Vivian asked, and you're the most experienced guy I know.”

Jamie: Traitor—sold out for a pretty face!

Logan: Thanks, man. Vivian owes me dinner now.

*

Not far away, Serena Powell sat in her car, parked on some errand. She'd meant to grab a coffee, but through the cafe window, she found herself completely fixated on the pair inside.

The girl was firing off questions like she couldn't get enough, and the boy—despite his stone-cold demeanor—kept answering with way more patience than his face suggested. Every time something clicked, she'd light up with a warm smile and throw him a thumbs-up.

Watching them, Serena's eyes narrowed, and she pulled out her phone to start recording.

Noelle, what is there to say about you?

So this is why you're so hell-bent on divorcing Mr. Jordan? You're just moving your romantic interest that fast? You knew he'd never feel the same, so you made the smart call and bailed? But honey, don't you realize that if Patrick believes you were unfaithful, he could use it against you in the divorce?

The boy's got some appeal—young, fresh, looks sharp—but compared to Mr. Jordan? Not even in the same league.

After saving the video, Serena scoffed. "What a pathetic little chase—running after a man who doesn't give a damn about her. Shameless!"