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."

Calm certainty anchored Ashley's tone, not a hint of hesitation slipping through.

Seeing that, Raymond finally nodded in satisfaction.

With his granddaughter's answer secured, impatience flickered in his eyes—he had no intention of delaying even a moment longer.

"Good. In two weeks, we'll host the matchmaking banquet at the family's Pearl Hotel."

His palm came down on the table with a sharp, echoing crack, authority ringing through his voice. "Every eligible young man in Sleridge worth a mention gets an invitation. I'll have your three brothers return as well. They'll be there in person to look every candidate over. Any man who wants to marry my granddaughter must have the right background, the right character, and the capability to match. Miss even one of those, and he's out—no exceptions."

A soft laugh slipped from Ashley's lips at the sight of her grandfather gearing up as if he meant to line up every so-called perfect bachelor in existence right in front of her.

"Grandpa, it's only a matchmaking banquet. You don't need to turn it into such a grand spectacle. This is a bit much."

"A bit much? Not even remotely." Grim resolve settled over Raymond's features, his gaze sharp and unyielding. "Your judgment was a complete disaster before. You let the wrong man fool you. This time, with your brothers and me standing right beside you, no one's going to let you get hurt again. We're not taking this lightly—this ends here, and that's final."

Noticing the quiet guilt and fierce protectiveness flickering in his eyes, a gentle warmth spread through Ashley's chest. She chose not to push back, simply lowering her lashes and giving a small, obedient nod.

...

Later that evening, inside Sleridge's most exclusive, dimly lit private bar, Dayna idly swirled the pale champagne in her slender flute, her laughter spilling out so freely that she nearly bent at the waist, shoulders shaking.

"You are really something, Ash. The second word spread that the Dunn family's heiress was picking a husband, Sleridge's entire elite circle lost its mind. All those smug rich heirs who usually act like no one is worth their time are practically tripping over each other just to land on your list."

Lowering her voice, she edged closer. "But there's one name on there that honestly caught me off guard. Ash, do you know Vincent Greene?"

"Vincent Greene?" Ashley's fingers stilled around the stem of her glass, and in that instant, a sharp, imposing face rose in her mind.

At the very peak of Sleridge's elite hierarchy stood Vincent Greene, the formidable head of the Greene family.

In her previous life, Ashley had crossed paths with him only once—at an exclusive, high-level business summit.

During that time, he had been the one rival Nicolas genuinely feared, the same man Nicolas had tried everything to approach yet could never quite reach.

Stories painted Vincent as cold-blooded and utterly inscrutable, a man no one could truly figure out.

Some rumors went even further, whispering that he suffered from a private condition and showed no interest in women whatsoever.

"Then why would someone like him appear on the list?" A faint crease formed between Ashley's brows. "This has to be some kind of mistake. Sure, the Greene family does business with the Dunn family, but someone at his level wouldn't need a matchmaking event to find a wife."

Letting out a soft huff, Dayna propped her chin on her hand, eyes narrowing with playful suspicion. "That's exactly what I thought. Unless… he's had his eye on you all along? You might've dressed low-key before, but let's be honest—your face alone could outshine anyone in Sleridge."

A quiet scoff slipped from Ashley as she shook her head, brushing the idea aside without hesitation. "Stop. That's ridiculous. There's no way."

A man like Vincent only cared about power and advantage.

If he truly meant to show up at that banquet, then there was almost certainly a business motive behind it—something no one else had figured out yet.

...

Elsewhere in a booth across the bar, Nicolas sat drinking with his old friend Cristian Barnett.

"You really went through with divorcing Ashley?" Cristian went still in open disbelief. Yet barely a second later, that shock gave way to obvious relief. "Honestly, this is better for you. Sure, Ashley is beautiful, but what else did she really have going for her? She was never on your level. You should've cut ties with her ages ago. Caroline's the one who actually belongs with you."

Nicolas slowly rolled the whiskey around in his glass, his expression dark and unreadable.

Ever since he had walked out of the hospital, an unshakable restlessness had been gnawing at him for reasons he could not name.

"Oh, and get this," Cristian added, leaning in with open excitement. "The Dunn family's missing heiress is back, and Raymond Dunn is hosting a matchmaking banquet just for her. Nicolas, this is the opportunity of a lifetime. If you managed to win the Dunn heiress over, Reed Group could crush Greene Group in one move."

At the thought of Vincent—the rival he despised more than anyone—a dark flicker passed through Nicolas's eyes.

Still, he only gave a frosty, dismissive laugh, arrogance dripping from every word. "I have no interest in that. I only agreed to the divorce to teach Ashley a lesson, to make her see that without the Reed family, she's nothing. For all her flaws, she did spend the last three years taking good care of me. Once she comes crawling back in a few days, crying and begging for another chance, I might think about forgiving her."

A note of admiration colored Cristian's voice as he said, "That's what I respect about you—you're still loyal, even now. Ashley's nothing but an orphan. Without you backing her, she won't survive out there for long. She's probably holed up somewhere, crying her eyes out as we speak…"

While Cristian talked on, Nicolas's attention wandered, his gaze drifting lazily toward the edge of the dance floor.

Not far off, two women sat together in the dim glow. One of them faced away from him, her slender back exposed, the sleek black dress hugging her body and tracing every elegant curve with effortless allure.

Almost as if she felt the weight of his stare, the woman paused, then turned her head with unhurried grace.

Beneath the shifting lights, her features came into focus—refined, composed, and stunning enough to steal the breath from his chest.

It was... Ashley?!