As Aurora looked at Grayson, a subtle tic betrayed the calm on her face.

Aurora gently brushed Chloe's hand aside and stepped forward, facing Grayson with quiet poise. Her gaze flicked to the thin scratch marring his tailored suit before she spoke in a polite, measured tone. "Mr. Rockefeller, I apologize for damaging your suit. Please let me know how much it costs to replace it, and I'll make sure you're fully compensated."

Her words, though courteous, carried a chill that drew a line between them as strangers.

Grayson caught every distant syllable like a blade pressed to his chest. Looking down at the damaged fabric, he answered evenly, "It's a custom piece. One hundred sixty thousand. But there's no need to compensate..."

"One hundred sixty thousand? Is that thing stitched with gold thread?" Chloe snapped, glaring at him with open irritation.

Before Chloe could say more, Aurora swiftly pulled out her phone. Her fingers moved without hesitation as she transferred the money to his bank account.

Chloe's eyes widened in disbelief. She seized Aurora's wrist, her voice rising. "Aurora, have you lost your mind? He tossed out some ridiculous number, and you just transferred it?"

Aurora's voice remained composed as she addressed him, "Mr. Rockefeller, the transfer's already been made."

Glancing at his phone, Grayson caught the bank notification flash across the screen. For a fleeting second, emotion stirred behind his calm exterior before he masked it completely. His gaze lifted to her, tone low and steady. "It's still early. How about a drink? Some of our old classmates are here."

"I'll pass," Aurora replied, her voice polite yet distant. "We're heading back now."

"I'll give you a ride," he offered quietly.

"Thank you, but we've called a designated driver." Aurora refused decisively, walking out with Chloe.

The singer's melancholic tune filled the bar, each note trailing after them like a soft echo.

Grayson stayed where he was, surrounded by the hum of conversation and the chill of solitude settling over his shoulders.

...

Outside, headlights swept across the curb as cars pulled in and out.

A gleam of pride lit Chloe's face as she gave Aurora a thumbs-up for finally pushing back at Grayson. "Did you see Grayson's face just now, Aurora? He looked ready to explode."

Looping her arm through Aurora's, Chloe burst into laughter so hard that she nearly lost her balance. "But seriously, why on earth did you send him a hundred and sixty grand that fast?"

"I just don't want to owe him anything," Aurora said quietly.

"You don't owe that bastard a single cent," Chloe said firmly. "It's a suit jacket, not a crown jewel. He's clearly trying to tangle you up again."

"Maybe so." Aurora's voice held no emotion; she had no intention of deciphering Grayson's motives of appearing in her life repeatedly. Whatever he wanted, she no longer cared. She only wanted peace.

As the two approached the curb, a sleek black Maybach eased to a stop before them.

The tinted window slid down with practiced smoothness. Chloe's curiosity vanished the instant she saw the familiar face inside. Her tone sharpened. "Grayson—seriously? You've got some nerve showing up again."

Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his gaze locked onto Aurora. She turned her face deliberately toward the street, refusing even a glance in his direction.

For a few seconds, silence hung heavy between them. Then, Grayson's low voice cut through the evening air. "Get in the car. I'll take you home."

A trace of simmering rage glinted in Chloe's eyes, darkening her face. "Don't bother—your car's too precious. If it gets a scratch, Aurora might end up broken." She waved him off impatiently. "Just get out of the way. Our car just pulled up."

Grayson's gaze flicked to the rear-view mirror, where a pink car rolled up, its driver leaning out and waving enthusiastically.

Chloe hooked her arm through Aurora's and tugged her toward the car.

The narrow one-way street quickly turned into a bottleneck—Grayson's Maybach idled in the middle, forcing a line of cars to a halt behind it.

Horns blared in growing frustration, yet none of the drivers dared to confront the imposing S-Class with its unmistakable air of privilege.

A weary sigh escaped Aurora's lips. For everyone's sake, she chose to give in. Stepping out of the pink car and sliding into the Maybach, she angled herself toward the window, leaving a deliberate stretch of empty seat between her and Grayson—enough space for two more people.

Silence pressed down until Grayson turned, eyes catching on her folded arms, her posture a quiet barricade. A dull ache pinched at his chest, his gaze flickering with something unspoken. "About what happened back then…" he began, his voice dipped in hesitation.

Aurora met his look head-on, her tone as cool as glass. "Mr. Rockefeller, if you made me get into this car just to revisit what happened five years ago," she cut in aloofly, "then save your breath. There's nothing left to say."

"Rora." Her nickname left his lips in a low murmur, softer than the hum of her phone ringing between them.

Dropping her gaze, Aurora saw the caller ID: Fiancé. She answered naturally.

"Rora, are you on your way home?" The warm voice came through the line.

"Not yet," Aurora replied.

"You with Chloe?" he asked, voice low and probing.

Her fingers tightened faintly around the phone as she cast a glance at Grayson. "With a business associate," she said evenly.

The phrase landed like a blow. Grayson's expression darkened, a shadow sweeping over his features as his eyes turned to frost. Her expression softened with a smile as she spoke on the phone with her fiancé, her voice laced with warmth. While it had been five years since they ended things, it never crossed his mind that she'd one day belong to someone else.

"Tomorrow evening, my uncle will come back home, and my parents want us all to have dinner together. Do you have time?" her fiancé asked gently.

"Sure. Pick me up at the station after work," Aurora answered, her tone light.

"Alright, we'll do it like always—you just need to look beautiful, and I'll take care of everything else."

A quiet laugh escaped Aurora. "Okay."

Her tender voice and the warmth in her smile contrasted sharply with the frosty indifference she'd shown Grayson moments ago.

Watching her softness directed at another man made something twist painfully in Grayson's chest. A flush of anger crept across his handsome face as his long fingers closed around her wrist, pulling her abruptly into his arms. One broad hand slid to the back of her neck, forcing her gaze to meet his.

Startled, Aurora met his eyes—so close, too close—and shoved at his chest. "Grayson, let go of me!" she snapped, her tone cutting and cold.

For an instant, he froze, searching her eyes and finding only distance and chill. Something in him hardened. His jaw tightened as he bent his head and captured her lips in a fierce, desperate kiss.

Aurora jerked against him, every muscle straining as she pushed back with all her strength, refusing to yield.

Grayson halted, his features hardening as he realized how profoundly Aurora recoiled from his touch. A shadow crossed his eyes, bitterness and frustration coiling tight in his chest. With a sudden surge of emotion, he caught her lips again, this time kissing her with rough, desperate intensity.

The force of it stunned Aurora. The familiar sensation only reopened an old wound buried deep within her heart. Her hand flew up on instinct—cracking sharply across his face.

Fingers trembling from the blow, she glared at him, fury flashing in her eyes, her voice cutting cold and clear. "You crashed into my life like it meant nothing, Grayson—and walked out like it meant even less. What the hell makes you think you get to do this now? I'm no longer the woman who would come and go at your beck and call."

The luxury car continued to glide down the road as she reached for the handle, ready to leap out.

Darkness flickered in Grayson's gaze. He caught her slender wrist, his grip firm but trembling. "Rora," he murmured, the low whisper threaded with longing that twisted painfully in her chest.

Aurora jerked her hand away, eyes flashing. "Don't call me that! Whatever we had is over—if you think we can just pick up where we left off, you're mistaken."

At Grayson's quiet command, the driver eased the car to the curb.

Without another word, Aurora pushed open the car door and stepped into the cool night.

Her figure slipped into the darkness, leaving Grayson staring after her until the last trace of her silhouette vanished. Her final words echoed like a curse in his ears. "I'd rather die than be tied to the Rockefeller family again."

He pursed his lips. It was the Rockefeller family that she'd said she wanted nothing to do with. As he reflected, he'd never once introduced her to his family.

...

At the Burton family gathering, laughter and chatter filled the elegant dining hall.

Had Aurora known earlier that the uncle her fiancé had spoken of was Grayson, she might've tempered her sharp words that night. Seated beside her fiancé, Ryan Burton, she stole a glance across the table. Grayson sat opposite, engaged in a light conversation with Ryan's mother, Veronica, his profile calm yet distant. The sight sent an unexpected jolt through her chest.

Catching Aurora's gaze, Veronica offered a warm, hostess-like smile. "Aurora, I just realized I haven't introduced you properly," she said, her tone affectionate as she reached over and patted Grayson's arm. "This is Ryan's uncle, Grayson Rockefeller—my little brother. He's twenty-four years younger than I am."

Aurora lifted her glass gracefully, her expression composed, her voice even. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rockefeller."

Not a flicker of emotion touched her eyes; her greeting carried the cool civility of strangers.

Across the table, Grayson's jaw tensed. His gaze locked onto hers, intense and unwavering.

Sensing the subtle chill in the air, Ryan hurried to ease the tension. "Grayson," he called out lightly, though he couldn't ignore the sharp edge in Grayson's stare directed at Aurora.

Thinking Grayson's expression meant he didn't approve of Aurora, Ryan clasped her hand with a reassuring smile and lifted his glass toward Grayson. "I'm lucky to have Rora by my side," he said warmly. "Here's to you, Grayson."

Grayson's gaze sharpened. "What did you just call her?" His voice came out low and rough, carrying a note of barely restrained anger.

"Rora," Ryan repeated easily, glancing at Aurora with a tender grin. She answered with a soft smile of her own, their quiet intimacy glowing between them.

The sight struck Grayson like a thorn to the heart. His throat tightened as he turned away and drained his glass in one swallow, the burn doing little to dull the ache behind his eyes.

When the dishes arrived, Ryan leaned close, carefully placing food on Aurora's plate.

Aurora froze when she saw the crab legs before her, fork hovering midair. "Ryan, I can't..."

Before she could finish, he misunderstood and cheerfully added a slice of coral trout beside it. "Try this, Rora. These were flown in fresh—Grayson arranged everything himself."

Ryan's family had always lived modestly—his father a university professor, his mother the owner of a small flower shop. Luxuries like these were rare at their table.

Ryan had once told Aurora that Veronica had cut ties with her wealthy family to marry for love, and that choice had shaped the life they now led.

It hadn't occurred to Aurora that Veronica belonged to the formidable Rockefeller family.

Aurora hadn't even caught the faint resemblance between Veronica and Claude Rockefeller—Grayson's imposing father until now. Even after five long years, the memory of Claude standing in her parents' living room, his voice sharp and disdainful, remained vivid. His scornful words and arrogant bearing had cut deep, leaving behind a chill that lingered still.

Aurora's face tightened at the recollection, and her hand clenched around the fork until her knuckles whitened. A wave of nausea rose, twisting in her stomach. "Excuse me," she murmured, her voice roughened by emotion as she pushed back her chair. "I need a moment."

Once inside the restroom, she gripped the sink and turned on the tap, splashing cold water over her face until the sting steadied her breathing. Droplets slid down her cheeks as she stared into the mirror, forcing her expression back under control.

The soft creak of the door broke the silence.

She looked up, the sight locking her in place. Grayson's reflection stood behind her, tall and composed, his eyes unreadable.

The narrow space seemed to shrink around them, the air thick with tension.

Aurora dabbed her face with a tissue and then turned, intent on leaving. But before she could take a step, Grayson moved to block the doorway.

Meeting his gaze head-on, she kept her tone icy. "Mr. Rockefeller, please step aside."

A dangerous glint flashed in Grayson's eyes.

Aurora tried to slip past him, but his hand shot out, catching her wrist in a firm grip. He asked, his tone razor-sharp, "Do you really want to marry a man who doesn't even know you're allergic to seafood?"

She yanked free, her expression icy. "Ryan is your nephew."

The muscles along his jaw tightened, his face shadowed by a stormy darkness.

As Aurora reached for the bathroom door, his voice sliced through the air, cold as steel. "If the Burton family learns our past relationship, do you think they'll still approve you to marry Ryan?"

Without looking back, she answered evenly, "You're welcome to find out, Mr. Rockefeller."

The door swung open, and she stopped dead in her tracks. Ryan stood just outside, surprise flickering across his face as his gaze shifted between her and Grayson. "Rora," he blurted out, eyes wide in disbelief, "why are you and my uncle in there together?"

"I just..." Aurora hesitated, fishing for a believable excuse.

Grayson interjected smoothly, "The faucet was acting up, so I gave Miss Flynn a hand fixing it."

With that, Grayson breezed past Aurora, heading straight for the dining room.

Ryan narrowed his eyes, watching Grayson's retreating figure, a nagging feeling tugging at his gut. Since when did his usually standoffish uncle turn into Mr. Fix-It? His gaze flicked to Aurora, who flashed him a soft smile.

Ryan leaned in, voice low. "Rora, my mom's probably gonna urge us to get married at dinner. Could you do me a solid and play along? Just agree to it verbally. We will go our separate ways after, no strings attached."

Worried she might balk, he grabbed her hand and pleaded, "Please, I'm begging you."

Aurora had no reason to say no. They'd made a pact to cover for each other from the start. "Alright," she said.

Side by side, they strolled into the dining room.

Veronica beamed at Aurora, handing her a sleek gift box. "Aurora, this is for you."

Inside sparkled a diamond necklace.

"It's too much, I can't—" Aurora started to protest.

"Rora, it's a gift. Just accept it," Ryan interjected, deftly fastening the necklace around her neck.

The cold metal against Aurora's skin matched the frosty stare Grayson shot at it from across the table. His jaw tightened, fingers strangling his wine glass.

"Aurora, you and Ryan have been together for nearly a year. It's time to pick a date," Veronica said, her voice brimming with excitement. "When will your parents be available? Let's meet up and talk about wedding plans."

"They..." Aurora began, but her words were swallowed by a sharp crash.

Grayson's wine glass had shattered in his grip, dark red wine mixing with blood trickling down his hand.

Veronica rushed to Grayson's side, tending to his wound. "My fault entirely! I should've tossed that cracked glass ages ago."

Grayson brushed it off. "It's nothing, just a small cut."

Once his hand was patched up, dinner wound down, so the marriage talk fizzled out.

Veronica made a point of telling Ryan to see Aurora home safely.

Ryan, his breath heavy with wine, nodded.

"I'll send her home," Grayson said, cool as ever. "You've all had a few. It's not safe to drive."

"Aurora's place is nowhere near the Rockefellers'. Isn't that a hassle?" Veronica asked.

"I live in Skyline Lofts. It's on the way," Grayson replied.

Skyline Lofts, Odonrith's priciest river-view residence, was just a street away from Aurora's modest apartment—though the price tags were worlds apart.

Veronica blinked, caught off guard. She hadn't revealed Aurora's address, so how did Grayson know?

Ryan, buzzing with enthusiasm, tugged Aurora into the backseat of Grayson's car and then settled in beside her.

Grayson paused, his eyes cold as he slid into the passenger seat. In the rearview mirror, his gaze locked onto the diamond necklace glinting at Aurora's throat.

The car, spacious as it was, felt suffocating with unspoken tension.

When the sleek luxury car pulled up under Aurora's building, Ryan ran his hand over the leather seat, grinning like a kid in a candy store. "Grayson, when I hold the wedding, can I borrow this car for the day?"

Grayson's face was stone, no answer forthcoming.

Ryan laughed. "I swear I won't ding it." Turning to Aurora with a playful wink, he added, "Rora, what do you think? Rolling off in this car post-wedding would be epic, right?"

Aurora, guessing Ryan meant a wedding with someone else, gave a small nod.

Grayson's expression clouded over, her easy agreement twisting something inside him. He spoke with a detached tone. "If you like it, I'll get you a new one as a wedding gift."

Ryan's eyes lit up, practically bouncing in his seat. "Grayson, you're the best! Not nearly as icy as Mom makes you out to be."

"Is that so?" Grayson asked.

"Absolutely, you're awesome," Ryan said, flashing a grin at Aurora, his excitement spilling over.

Aurora stayed quiet.

Grayson, trying to play it cool, gazed at Aurora through the rearview mirror. "Miss Flynn, what's your take?"

Catching his gaze, Aurora replied politely, "Mr. Rockefeller, you're a good man."

It was a courteous compliment, nothing more.

Grayson's eyes lingered on her reflection in the mirror, vexed by her response.

Ryan hopped out, chivalrously opening Aurora's door, his arm shielding her head from the frame. "My lady, your chariot awaits."

Aurora chuckled at his theatrics. "Thanks."

Their easy banter flowed naturally, unforced. They didn't notice Grayson in the passenger seat, his face like a storm cloud.

From the car, Grayson watched Aurora's warm smile, memories of her tenderness toward him years ago flooding back, stirring a restless ache. Five years ago, she'd smiled at him with that same softness. Now, she treated him like a stranger.

Ryan, clueless to the undercurrent, waved at Grayson. "Thanks for the ride, Grayson. Good night. I'll walk Rora up."

Aurora said politely, "Thank you, Mr. Rockefeller."

"You're welcome," Grayson replied, his face hard as he told the driver to go.

Ryan watched the sleek Maybach pull away, grinning. "My uncle's the best guy on the planet."

Aurora's face stayed neutral, offering no reply. Once, she too had thought Grayson was the best person alive. But not anymore.