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?!

Dim bar lights bled into a smoky haze as Nicolas fixed his gaze on Ashley across the crowded room, each breath growing heavier than the last.

What he saw refused to settle in his mind, as if it belonged to someone else entirely.

In the past, Ashley had always appeared in gentle, muted dresses, her presence quiet and unassuming, the kind of woman who would lower her eyes and wordlessly take his coat the moment he stepped through the door.

But now the same woman was draped in a black dress that clung to her figure with striking precision, every curve outlined with effortless confidence. One leg crossed over the other in a languid, deliberate pose, while a vivid cocktail swirled idly between her fingers, catching the light with each subtle movement.

Tilting her head back, she let out a soft, unrestrained laugh beside Dayna, the clean line of her profile sharp enough to feel almost sculpted from stone. Everything about her carried an air of cool detachment, an untouchable elegance that instinctively kept others at a distance.

"Nicolas, tell me I'm not seeing things. That's Ashley over there, right?"

Cristian's gaze lingered before a derisive snort escaped him. "Damn. She really pulled out all the stops just to catch your eye, huh? That dress probably wiped out every cent she's managed to save over the last few years."

Nicolas stayed silent, yet the rigid set of his jaw made his unease impossible to miss.

Cristian gave his shoulder a smug slap, sounding completely sure of himself. "I'm telling you, she definitely found out you'd be here tonight and dressed up like that on purpose. Want to make a bet? Give it ten minutes. She'll stroll over pretending this was all some accident, then start tearing up and beg you to take her back."

A sharp, humorless scoff left Nicolas's lips as he tore his eyes away from across the room. "She can do whatever she likes. Pulling pathetic stunts like this only makes her seem even more revolting."

Even so, the irritation clawing at him all night mysteriously began to loosen, little by little.

Now that made more sense. Ashley was an orphan with no one to lean on. There was no chance she would actually leave him behind for good.

This whole cold, distant performance was nothing but another scheme to make him come after her.

Minutes slipped by in silence. Ten… then twenty.

Across the room, Ashley remained relaxed and radiant, laughing freely as she chatted with her friends, never once sparing Nicolas so much as a glance.

At that moment, a burly man in a gaudy floral shirt swaggered over to her booth, a couple of equally rowdy companions trailing close behind.

"Hey there, beautiful," he drawled, flashing a leering grin as he leaned in. "Mind if I keep you company?" His gaze lingered shamelessly on the curve of her exposed shoulder while his hand lifted, reaching toward her face. "Sit with me for a drink. Whatever this booth runs tonight, I'll take care of it."

A sharp chill settled into Ashley's eyes. Before his fingers could come close, she leaned back, her expression hardening. "Fuck off."

For a split second, the man froze. Then irritation twisted his features into something ugly. Around here, no one ever dared to brush him off so publicly.

"What's with the attitude?" he barked, voice rising. "You walk in dressed like that—what, you think you won't get noticed?"

With a heavy thud, his palm slammed onto the table, glasses clinking violently. "Name's Jordy Howard. I'm the heir to Howard Realty. Tonight, you're drinking with me—whether you like it or not. Take her."

At his command, the men behind him moved in without hesitation, circling closer. Dayna shot up from her seat, fury flashing across her face. "Jordy, you absolute idiot—take a good look at who you're talking to. This is—"

Ashley cut in before she could finish, "Dayna, don't waste your breath on garbage."

Keeping one hand on Dayna's arm, she slowly tightened the other around the slender neck of the bottle on the table, her eyes turning cold and sharp.

Back in her previous life, she had reined in every bold, dangerous side of herself for Nicolas.

She had buried that side of herself so completely that most people had long since forgotten who she had once been. After all, she used to be the most naturally gifted fighter in the entire Dunn family.

Jordy gave a mocking laugh and reached for her hair. "What? You want to fight? Then maybe it's time somebody showed you who really runs Sleridge," he spat icily.

From a short distance away, Nicolas caught sight of the scene, his brows knitting as he pushed back his chair to stand.

He wanted nothing to do with Ashley, but their divorce still wasn't final. Legally, she remained his wife, and there was no way he was going to watch some worthless thug lay a hand on her.

Before he could even move, a deep, glacial voice sliced through the noise of the bar and swept across the room like a blade.

"Enough."

The word wasn't loud, but it carried such crushing authority that the entire bar seemed to lock in place.

Still swearing under his breath, Jordy whipped around. "Who the hell are you to stick your nose into my—"

The rest of the sentence died in his throat the instant he recognized the man.

Out of the shifting haze and fractured light, the man strode forward in a flawlessly tailored charcoal suit, his handsome features cut sharp as glass, his eyes so cold they seemed to steal the air from a man's lungs. A line of stern security guards moved in behind him, and the crushing weight of his arrival made the entire room draw tight with silence.

"Mr. Greene?!" Jordy's knees almost buckled beneath him. His voice trembled as it came out thin and uneven. "W-what are you doing here?"

Nicolas stiffened as well, his fingers curling into a hard fist while his gaze locked on the newcomer.

It was Vincent Greene.

What was a man like him doing in a place like this?

And above all… what was it about Ashley that held his gaze so tightly?

Vincent's sudden appearance smothered the bar's rowdy noise, dropping the whole room into stunned silence.

Ashley's hold on the bottle slackened a fraction, surprise flashing across her eyes.

Her gaze lifted to the man standing there—composed, distant, and impossibly untouchable—and question after question crowded her mind.

In her previous life, she had barely crossed paths with Vincent. All she had known was that he was the one rival Nicolas had always feared most.

And yet now, this elusive man had shown up here in person and had even stepped in to pull her out of trouble?

"Mr. Greene… do you know her?" Still half-collapsed on the floor, Jordy's body trembled so hard his voice nearly broke apart around the words.

From every corner, people leaned in, ears pricked as their gazes flicked between Ashley and Vincent.

"Who exactly is she? What kind of woman could make Vincent Greene step in for her?"

"I thought he didn't care about women. Don't tell me he actually likes her. Is that why he got involved?"

"So Mr. Greene's really breaking his own rules tonight."

A short distance away, Nicolas's expression darkened so completely it was almost frightening. He fixed a hard stare on Vincent's back, his fingers curling tighter and tighter at his side before he even realized it.

If Vincent had truly taken an interest in Ashley, it would have been the cruelest possible slap in Nicolas's face.

Dayna looked just as shocked. Still reeling from Vincent's breathtaking face and unable to hold back, she leaned close to Ashley and murmured in a hushed rush, "Ash, don't tell me he's really here because of you. So what, he's been secretly crushing on you all this time? He put his name down for your matchmaking banquet, and now he's already showing up to save you?"

Without even taking a proper breath, Dayna pressed on. "Seriously, this entrance, this kind of pressure, this whole vibe? He's basically the ultimate billionaire fantasy. He's a thousand times better than that bastard Nicolas. As your best friend, I officially give this one my blessing."

Then, in the very next second, Vincent's chilly, unreadable voice cut straight through every last bit of her romantic imagination.

"This place belongs to me."

A faint tilt of Vincent's chin sent his gaze gliding over Jordy before it came to rest on Ashley. Whatever flickered in his eyes, it held no trace of warmth.

In a cool, merciless voice, he said, "You make a scene in my bar, you break my rules. Jordy, have you gotten tired of being alive?"

Everyone in Sleridge knew exactly how Vincent handled things—fast, brutal, and final. Under his watch, no one dared cross a line.

As soon as those words were spoken, the tight knot in Nicolas's chest finally loosened.

So that was the truth of it. Vincent had stepped in for one reason only: to defend the order of his bar.

Nicolas had known it all along. A woman like Ashley might have a beautiful face, but that was all she had. There was no way someone like Vincent would ever look at her twice.

The instant Jordy heard that, he looked like a man who had just been dragged back from the edge of death. He bobbed his head wildly and stammered, "Mr. Greene, please forgive me. I lost my head. I was drunk, and I crossed the line. I'll leave right now. Right now..."

He lurched upright, desperate to get off the floor.

"Don't move." Vincent's fingertip skimmed over his cuff link, and his voice stayed so even it sounded like he was commenting on the weather. "Did I give you permission to leave?"

Jordy went rigid. A chill swept through him as cold sweat soaked his back. "M-Mr. Greene… what more do you want from me? I'll pay. No matter how much it is, I'll pay."

"In a Greene establishment, anyone who breaks the rules leaves behind a hand." With a slight turn of his head, Vincent signaled the men behind him. "Since you don't seem able to do it yourself, I'll have someone assist you."

At that, Jordy panicked and blurted, "Mr. Greene, my father is Dale Howard. Howard Realty works with Greene Group. Please, Mr. Greene..."

Not even a flicker crossed Vincent's face. His voice remained cold enough to cut. "In Sleridge, my rules aren't up for discussion. Do it."

Then a nauseating crack split the air.

Jordy's scream ripped across the bar from end to end.

All around them, the onlookers turned deathly pale. Several people recoiled so violently they squeezed their eyes shut on the spot.

Pain knocked Jordy unconscious almost at once. The bodyguards hauled him out like dead weight and tossed him onto the street as if he were nothing but trash.

Then Vincent let his eyes travel across the room, and the brutal pressure in that single glance made everyone bow their heads before they even realized it.

"That's what happens to anyone who breaks my rules."

After delivering that cold warning, he turned on his heel and strode off.

From start to finish, his gaze never once returned to Ashley, as if she were nothing more than a blur in the background, too insignificant to notice.

Only when the last black-suited bodyguard vanished from sight did the air in the bar begin to flow again.

Clutching her chest, Dayna tipped back her drink in one long swallow, her face still drained of color. "Ash... I take it back. Vincent Greene isn't some billionaire fantasy. He's a devil. A monster. That was horrifying."

Lingering fear trembled through her as she caught Ashley's hand in a tight grip. "Maybe we should cross him off the list. A man like that… if you ever ended up on the wrong side of him, you wouldn't stand a chance. Let's find you someone kinder—someone safe."

Instead of answering, Ashley kept her gaze fixed on the doorway Vincent had disappeared through, her expression distant and unreadable.

Rules?

No matter how she turned it over, it didn't make sense. A man who controlled Greene Group would never bother personally intervening over some petty drunk causing a scene.

So what exactly was Vincent playing at?