"Kind? You're calling her kind?"

A short, sharp laugh escaped Ashley, full of disbelief.

She stepped forward without hesitation and ripped the blanket off Caroline in one swift motion.

What lay underneath wasn't just a whole makeup kit, but also an open box of pastries, half of it already eaten.

"Nicolas, take a good look for once."

Her hand shot out, pointing straight at the pastries as her voice rose. "This is the person you said was on the verge of dying? The same one you were ready to take my kidney for? Her life is worth everything, but mine doesn't even matter? You can just throw mine away whenever it suits you?"

Nicolas's gaze landed on the pastries, and his expression shifted again and again, embarrassment and irritation flickering across his face.

Sensing the situation slipping out of control, Caroline grabbed his sleeve and started crying. "Nicolas, I didn't know... I really didn't understand why the doctor made it sound so serious. Maybe the test results were wrong. Or maybe someone paid the doctor to set me up, just to make you think I was lying..."

Anyone with a bit of sense could tell how forced her act was.

Even so, Nicolas only paused briefly before deciding to believe her.

He looked at Ashley, his brows drawn together. "If it was just a misunderstanding, then the surgery won't happen. Let's leave it at that."

"Leave it at that?" Ashley let out a disbelieving laugh. "Nicolas, if I hadn't gotten away in time, they would've taken my kidney already. And you think that's something we can just forget?"

"But nothing actually happened to you, right? It was just a misunderstanding. Why are you still making such a big deal out of it?"

His expression tightened further, and the irritation in his eyes became more obvious.

"You're dragging this out because you want compensation, aren't you? Fine. I'll transfer the villa on the outskirts to your name and give you fifty million on top of that. That should be enough."

A faint, cold laugh slipped from Ashley. "You think that settles everything?"

The moment she said that, Nicolas felt a surge of annoyance. In his mind, she was clearly asking for more.

"Then say it. What do you actually want?"

Her voice cut through the room without hesitation. "What I want is simple. I want a divorce. Right now."

"A divorce?"

Nicolas stared at her as if she had said something absurd.

Throughout their three years of marriage, everyone around him knew one thing. Ashley had always been deeply attached to him.

That was why he believed her hostility toward Caroline came from jealousy after she returned.

So how could she suddenly want to leave him?

Then a thought crossed his mind, and his gaze turned mocking.

"Ashley, some pathetic way to draw my attention, huh? Aren't you tired of this? Ever since Caroline came back, you've been stirring up trouble. Now you're bringing up divorce too? It's ridiculous. I'll give you one last chance. Take those words back, and I'll let everything slide."

Ashley looked at him, at the confidence in his eyes that she would never walk away, and felt a wave of disgust.

"Nicolas, do you really not understand what I'm saying?"

She straightened her posture and met his gaze directly.

Each word came out sharp and clear. "I want a divorce."

Her response only made his expression darken. "And what's your reason for this?"

"Reason?" Ashley's tone dropped even further. "Because you refuse to see the truth. Because you'd rather sacrifice your own wife just to protect a woman who has no shame. A man like you has no right to be my husband. I can't stand you."

The smug curl on Nicolas's lips slowly faded, and a raw, simmering anger surfaced—the look of a man who realized he'd been read too easily.

"Perfect. Just perfect," he muttered, jaw tight, each word forced out between clenched teeth. "If you're that desperate for a divorce, fine—I'll give it to you. But listen carefully, Ashley… don't come crawling back later. The moment you lose the title of Mrs. Reed, you'll be nothing at all."

With a sharp turn, he strode toward the doorway and snapped at his assistant, "Get the divorce papers. Immediately."

Startled by the sudden command, the assistant flinched, then rushed off without a single word.

In less than ten minutes, the door swung open again, and two freshly printed copies were brought into the room.

Nicolas snatched the documents and slapped them onto the bedside table with a sharp, echoing thud.

Fixing his gaze on Ashley, he spoke with the cold restraint of a man extending his final scrap of mercy. "Ashley, for the sake of the three years of marriage we shared, I'll give you one last chance. Admit you were wrong, and I'll rip these papers up right now."

Admit she was wrong? A hollow scoff slipped from Ashley's lips. Of all the wrongs she had made, marrying him stood at the very top.

Without bothering to look his way, she strode forward, seized the pen, and bent over the papers. Her signature flowed across the page in one smooth, decisive stroke, bold and unyielding.

Not a flicker of doubt slowed her hand.

"There. It's done."

With a crisp snap, she flung the pen onto the table.

Lifting her eyes to him, she spoke with undisguised impatience. "Your turn, Mr. Reed."

The icy expression on her face threw Nicolas completely off balance.

Around the pen, his fingers clamped down so hard his knuckles blanched.

This wasn't right.

Something had gone terribly, unmistakably wrong.

The Ashley he remembered would be uneasy whenever he so much as frowned.

Each time her gaze landed on him, it had always brimmed with meek, desperate devotion.

The woman standing in front of him now met his gaze as if he were nothing but a stranger.

No—something lower than that.

She looked at him like he was garbage she couldn't wait to throw away.

That icy detachment pouring off her, sharp and final, sparked an odd irritation in his chest, along with a thread of unease he couldn't quite name.

For the first time, Nicolas faltered.

From beneath the blanket, Caroline had been silently watching it all unfold, and a cruel glint slipped through her eyes.

She couldn't let Nicolas waver now.

"Nicolas..." she whispered weakly, her voice quivering as tears clung to it. "This is all because of me. If I hadn't been here, Ashley wouldn't be arguing with you like this."

Turning toward Ashley, she put on a fragile, wounded look. "Ashley, please don't blame Nicolas for this. I'll leave. I'll go right now. I won't ever appear in front of you again..."

While she spoke, Caroline forced herself upright, her movements shaky, only to sway dangerously as if her strength had finally given out.

Seeing that fragile display erased the last trace of hesitation in Nicolas. Concern surged through him, swallowing everything else without a trace.

He reached out immediately, steadying her trembling body, then turned his gaze back to Ashley—cold, sharp, and brimming with undisguised contempt.

"Take a good look at Caroline, then take a look at yourself. A cruel woman like you has no place standing beside me as my wife."

Without the slightest pause this time, he grabbed the pen and scrawled his name across the agreement in one swift, decisive stroke.

Afterward, he tore one copy free and tossed it at her, his tone steady—unyielding, final, and merciless.

"Ashley, I'll be watching for the day you regret this choice. When it finally hits you, don't expect mercy—even if you come back begging on your knees, I won't give you a second glance."

Ever since Ashley had married him, Nicolas had been certain he understood exactly what kind of woman she was.

An orphan with no family, no backing, and no one in the world to lean on. In his mind, once she left, she would be utterly alone. Soon enough, he was sure, she would come crawling back and beg him to take her in again.

"Regret it? Then I'm afraid you're the one who'll be disappointed, Mr. Reed." Slipping the divorce papers out of sight, Ashley lifted her eyes and cast Caroline one final, measured glance.

And her lips curved into a faint, dismissive smile. "Caroline, I don't want this man anymore. You're welcome to take him. I sincerely hope the two of you stay together for a very long time—and spare everyone else from having to suffer either of you."

Without sparing so much as a backward glance, Ashley strode out of the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

Her spine remained perfectly straight, each step light and unhurried, as if the suffocating burden she had carried for years had finally been lifted from her shoulders.

Left standing in silence, Nicolas kept his gaze fixed on the empty doorway where she had vanished, an unfamiliar hollowness spreading through his chest and tightening with every second.

Brushing it off with a faint scoff, he convinced himself it meant nothing, that the unease was merely the result of growing accustomed to her constant, clingy presence.

Given a few days, he thought coldly, once she tasted the harshness of life outside, she would come back to him on her own, humbled and desperate.

Stepping out of the hospital doors, Ashley felt the pale winter sunlight spill over her skin, its gentle warmth seeping into her bones in a way she had not experienced in years.

Pulling her phone from her bag, she keyed in a number she hadn't dared to touch in years.

The line connected almost at once, and a man's usually composed voice broke through, thick with sudden emotion.

"Ms. Dunn? Is… is that really you?"

Tilting her head back, Ashley stared into the clear, sunlit sky above her. Moisture clung to her lashes, yet her tone remained calm, almost resolute.

"It's me. I'm divorced. Come pick me up… take me home."

Barely ten minutes passed before the stillness of the street was ripped apart by the deep, thunderous growl of incoming engines.

A convoy of five black Rolls-Royces glided toward the hospital, then eased to an elegant stop right in front of Ashley.

In flawless sync, every car door swung open at once. A pair of orderly lines formed as black-suited bodyguards stepped out and took their places on both sides, standing straight and solemn, their manner impeccably respectful. "Miss Dunn."

From the rear seat of the middle car, Dayna Gill emerged in sky-high heels and a runway-worthy red couture dress, dazzling and formidable as ever.

"Ash!"

Rushing over without a second thought, Dayna stopped short the instant she saw how alarmingly slender Ashley had grown, and her eyes flushed red on the spot.

"Nicolas is a blind, useless bastard. How could he put you through something like this? You walked away from your name and your family just to protect that fragile ego of his. You married him like you were no one special, hid your background and let him believe you were an orphan, and then spent three exhausting years wearing yourself out taking care of him. And what did you get in return? That piece of trash was actually willing to cut out your kidney for that scheming little bitch, and after all that, he still had the audacity to mock your divorce decision. He really ought to look at himself. Without the Dunn family propping him up all these years, what the hell is he, really?"

Ashley dropped her eyes, hiding the chill that flickered through them.

Dayna hadn't been wrong. Ashley had been Raymond Dunn's granddaughter—the rightful heiress of the most powerful family in Sleridge—raised in staggering wealth, wrapped in privilege, handed every advantage life could offer.

Yet three years earlier, defying her grandfather's iron will and the objections of her three brothers, she had stubbornly chosen Nicolas, casting aside her identity to live at his side as nothing more than an ordinary woman.

All that sacrifice had earned her in the end was cold, calculated betrayal.

"Dayna, I was a fool back then. That ends now."

A measured breath slipped past her lips as her gaze hardened, calm in a way that felt almost dangerous.

"And this isn't over," she added, each word deliberate and chilling. "Everything they owe me—I'll take it back myself, piece by piece."

Whatever softness had once defined Ashley was gone.

In its place stood a woman carved from something colder, sharper, far less forgiving.

Letting Nicolas and Caroline walk away unscathed had never even crossed her mind.

...

Perched halfway up a secluded hillside on the edge of Sleridge, the Dunn estate loomed in rigid silence, its severe architecture radiating quiet dominance.

As Ashley entered the living room, she found an elderly man already seated there, his keen gaze cutting through the space and his commanding presence impossible to ignore.

It was Raymond. At the sight of her, his fingers tightened around the head of his cane, a faint tremor betraying him before he steadied himself. A sharp, dismissive snort followed, his voice edged with frost. "So, you still remembered the way home. I was beginning to think you'd go die somewhere out there and never even let me see you one last time."

A sharp ache hit Ashley straight through the nose, and her eyes instantly burned. In her previous life, that had become the truth. She really had died without ever seeing him again.

Unable to hold back, she hurried to his side, her voice trembling as it caught in her throat. "Grandpa, I'm sorry," she said softly. "I was wrong. I should've listened to you from the beginning."

"Alright, alright. You're home now, aren't you? So why are you crying like this?"

His voice still sounded rough and impatient, but the affection in his eyes was impossible to miss.

No longer in the mood to lecture her, he lifted a hand and gently patted her hair. "Since you finally came to your senses and came back home, that's enough for me. Now tell me—what kind of gift do you want for coming back?"

Brushing the tears from her cheeks, Ashley steadied herself, took a quiet breath, and said, "Grandpa, I don't want any gift. I want to take over as CEO of Dunn Group, and I'm staying with you and my brothers."

For a brief second, Raymond simply stared at her. Then a rich, thunderous laugh burst from his chest, full of unmistakable satisfaction.

"Good. That's exactly what someone from the Dunn family should say. So you've finally made up your mind to take over Dunn Group. That seat was always yours, Ashley. Your brothers and I never stopped waiting for you to claim it."

A moment later, however, the warmth on his face dimmed. His voice lowered, and a trace of hesitation surfaced in his otherwise firm expression.

"But Ashley, this family has always had its rules. If you come back and take your place as the Dunn heir, then for your reputation and the family's interests, you'll have to accept an arranged marriage. Have you truly thought this through?"

Without a moment's pause, the former Ashley would have turned it down outright—her devotion to Nicolas had once made the very idea of an arranged marriage unbearable.

Yet after enduring that life once already, clarity had settled in, sharp and unshakable.

"I've already considered it," Ashley replied, her tone steady, not a flicker of doubt in her eyes. "Right now, the only thing that matters to me is keeping the Dunn Group strong and secure. As for who I'm matched with… it makes no difference to me."