June pushed herself off the carpet. She walked over to the massive vanity and started tearing through the drawers.

She shoved velvet boxes of diamonds and pearls aside. The expensive jewelry crashed against the wood with harsh, metallic clatters.

At the very bottom of the last drawer, she found it. A blank Divorce Agreement drafted by Isaac's lawyers months ago. A thin layer of dust coated the crisp white paper.

June read the bold print. The clauses were brutal. She would walk away with absolutely nothing. She slammed the heavy stack of papers onto the vanity top.

She tried to speak to the system in her mind, begging for a different task. The red countdown timer simply flashed in her vision, a silent, deadly refusal.

June picked up the Montblanc pen. The heavy metal felt cold against her skin. Her wrist shook slightly as she hovered the gold nib over the signature line.

She remembered Isaac from the original host's memories. The man was a ruthless predator in the tech world. Swallowing hard, she forced her hand to steady and slashed her signature across the bottom of the page.

She grabbed the papers and marched into the walk-in closet. She bypassed the soft pastels and pulled a skin-tight, blood-red dress off the hanger. It was aggressive. It was armor.

Standing in front of the full-length mirror, she dragged a matching red lipstick across her mouth. She was preparing for war.

June pushed the bedroom door open. She stepped into her five-inch Christian Louboutins and walked toward the grand staircase, her heels clicking against the floor like a ticking clock.

The maids in the hallway pressed themselves against the walls, lowering their heads and holding their breath as she passed.

June reached the heavy oak doors of the first-floor study. She stopped. She took a deep breath, trying to slow the frantic hammering against her ribs.

She didn't knock. She grabbed the cold brass handle and shoved the heavy door open. The hinges let out a low groan.

The study was dim. Isaac sat behind a massive mahogany desk, his long fingers typing rapidly across a keyboard, illuminated only by the glow of his monitor.

At the sound of the door, his hands stopped. He slowly lifted his head. His eyes were the color of Siberian ice, and they locked onto her with a physical weight.

June felt the impact of his stare in the back of her knees. Her calves cramped. She almost stumbled.

"Maintain arrogance!" the system shrieked in her head.

June forced her spine straight. She tilted her chin up.

She walked across the room, the sharp clack of her heels echoing off the wood paneling. She reached the desk and slammed the papers down. The sharp smack broke the heavy silence.

Isaac's gaze dropped from her face to the document. He read the words Divorce Agreement. A microscopic crease formed between his brows.

June leaned forward, planting both hands on the edge of his desk. She injected every ounce of disgust she could muster into her voice. "Sign it, Isaac. I'm sick of this hellhole."

Isaac didn't look at the papers again. He leaned back in his leather chair, crossing his hands over his stomach. He looked at her the way a scientist observes a rat in a maze.

The silence stretched. The pressure in the room grew so heavy June felt it pressing against her eardrums. She fought the overwhelming urge to look away, forcing herself to hold his icy stare.

Isaac let out a low, dark chuckle. The sound vibrated through the quiet room, laced with pure danger.

He stood up. His massive frame instantly blocked the light from the window, casting a long, dark shadow that swallowed June whole.

Every instinct in her body screamed at her to step back. She bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood, forcing her feet to stay planted.

Isaac walked around the desk. He stopped less than a foot away from her, forcing her to crane her neck to maintain eye contact.

He raised his hand. His long, cold fingers clamped around her jaw. He forced her head up.

June gasped softly as her eyes met his. The temperature of his skin sent a violent shiver down her spine. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.

Isaac's voice was a low, gravelly rasp. "What game are you playing now, June? Do you want a higher allowance?"

The sheer contempt in his eyes felt like a physical slap, overriding her fear with a hot spike of humiliation. A blaring alarm echoed in her mind: [System Warning: Maintain arrogant persona!] The cold command gave her the desperate push she needed. She smacked his hand away from her face. "I'm serious!" she yelled.

Isaac stared at his empty hand. His eyes darkened to a terrifying shade of midnight blue. The air in the room stopped moving.

Isaac slowly lowered his hand. He brought his thumb up and dragged it slowly across the pad of his index finger. It was a subtle movement, but the original host's memories screamed that it meant he was pushed to the edge.

June saw the gesture. A cold sweat broke out across the back of her neck. She instantly regretted slapping him.

Isaac lunged forward. He planted his hand on the edge of the desk right beside her hip, trapping her completely between his hard body and the solid wood.

He leaned down. His breath brushed across her cheek, smelling faintly of mint and expensive tobacco. It was an invasion of space that made her skin prickle.

June stopped breathing. She gripped the edge of the desk behind her, her knuckles turning white as she tried to press herself further into the wood to escape his heat.

Isaac used his free hand to pick up the divorce papers. He flipped through the first two pages, the corner of his mouth lifting into a cruel sneer.

He locked his blue eyes onto hers. His voice was terrifyingly soft. "Leaving with nothing? Since when did you become a martyr?"

June swallowed the lump of terror in her throat. She kept her chin tipped up. "Because I don't want to look at your face for one more second."

Isaac's eyes turned to absolute ice. He gripped the thick stack of papers with both hands.

June watched in stunned silence as he ripped the document straight down the middle. The sharp rip echoed in the quiet room.

Her eyes widened. The torn halves fluttered to the marble floor like dead leaves. Her brain flatlined.

Isaac crumpled the remaining page in his fist and tossed it over his shoulder. It hit the bottom of the metal wastebasket with a heavy thud.

He straightened his posture, looking down at her frozen expression. He calmly adjusted his platinum cufflinks.

"If you're unhappy with your current situation, you can negotiate anything else," Isaac stated, his tone devoid of emotion. "But there will be no divorce scandals in the Walton family."

Panic flared in June's chest. "What if I cheat on you?" she blurted out. "Would you divorce me then?"

Isaac's gaze snapped to hers. His hand shot out, his long fingers gripping her narrow waist. He yanked her forward.

Her chest crashed against his solid chest. She felt the hard lines of his muscles through his tailored suit. Her eyes blew wide in sheer panic.

Isaac leaned in, his voice vibrating against her collarbone. "Try it. I will make sure the man disappears in LA forever."

The raw violence in his eyes paralyzed her. She forgot to push him away. She just stared at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly against his.

Isaac released her waist abruptly, as if touching her disgusted him. He turned his back on her and walked toward the heavy study doors.

He pulled the door open and paused. He didn't look back. "We have a charity gala tonight. Put on your fake smile."

He walked out. The heavy door slammed shut behind him with a deafening bang that rattled the expensive paintings on the walls.

The suffocating pressure in the room vanished. June's knees gave out. She collapsed into Isaac's massive leather chair, her whole body shaking.

A cheerful chime echoed in her head. "Ding! Directive 'Serve Divorce Papers' has been executed. Target's response: Rejection. Lifespan reward issued."

June looked at the red numbers in her vision. Twenty-four hours were added. She let out a long, shaky breath. Her muscles felt like liquid.

She pressed her hand against her chest, feeling the frantic beating of her heart. Isaac was a terrifying control freak.

She looked down at the shredded paper on the floor. The marriage was a cage, and the door was welded shut.

A sudden, piercing shriek echoed from the hallway, followed by the violent crash of shattering glass.

June flinched, her shoulders jumping toward her ears. Before she could even stand up, the system's red warning lights flooded her vision.

"Ding! Side Quest triggered: Discipline the spoiled child, Tristan, in the main hall. Requirement: Spank him three times. Failure results in immediate lifespan deduction!"

June dropped her face into her hands and groaned in absolute despair.

June dragged her hands down her face, her fingers digging into her skin. She physically recoiled at the thought of hitting a child, especially Tristan, the little terror of the house.

The red countdown timer in her eyes began to flash violently. A sharp, electrical sting bit into the base of her skull, forcing her muscles to move.

She gritted her teeth and pushed the study door open. Her heels clicked against the marble as she walked toward the chaos in the main hall.

Just as she reached the edge of the living room, a priceless Ming dynasty vase shattered into a thousand pieces less than two feet from her shoes.

June jumped back. A sharp piece of porcelain sliced across her calf, leaving a thin, stinging line of red.

She snapped her head up. Five-year-old Tristan was standing on top of the custom Italian sofa, holding a heavy crystal ashtray above his head.

Seven-year-old Cole stood on the landing of the grand staircase. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, his face an emotionless mask as he watched the destruction.

Tristan saw June. Instead of freezing, his face twisted into a bratty sneer. He hurled the crystal ashtray straight at the massive flat-screen TV.

The impact sounded like a gunshot. The screen spider-webbed into black cracks. Tristan threw his head back and let out a high-pitched, triumphant laugh.

Three maids were huddled in the corner near the dining room, physically trembling, too terrified to intervene.

June stared at the ruined room. A very real, very hot surge of anger rushed up her spine. This was her house now.

Cole looked down from the stairs. His voice was perfectly polite, but entirely devoid of warmth. "Good morning, Mother."

June looked up. She caught the dark, mocking gleam in Cole's eyes. He was waiting for her to lose her mind.

She realized instantly that Cole wasn't just watching. He was enabling his brother's meltdown just to trigger her.

Tristan pointed a small finger at her from the sofa. "Go back to your room, you old witch! I don't want to look at you!"

June inhaled slowly. She ignored the system's demand for a dramatic, screaming fit. Her face turned to stone.

She didn't scream. She didn't throw a tantrum. She stepped forward, her heels crunching over the broken glass and porcelain.

The steady, rhythmic sound of her steps echoed in the massive hall. The sheer calm radiating from her felt heavy and dangerous.

Tristan's laughter died. He lowered his arm, his eyes widening as she approached without a single word.

Cole frowned. His fingers twitched inside his pockets. This wasn't the reaction he had calculated.

June reached the sofa. Without a second of hesitation, her hand shot out and clamped around Tristan's wrist like a vice.

Tristan yelped in pain. He dropped the throw pillow he was holding.

He immediately started thrashing, twisting his small body wildly like a feral cat, snapping his teeth toward the back of her hand.

June was faster. Her free hand grabbed the back of his collar. She flipped him over and pinned him face-down across the back of the sofa.

Tristan panicked. He kicked his legs in the air, screaming at the top of his lungs. "Let me go! I'm going to tell Daddy to fire you!"

Cole couldn't maintain his act anymore. He rushed down the stairs, lowering his shoulder to physically shove June away from his brother.

June caught his movement in her peripheral vision. She snapped her head toward him, her eyes blazing with a terrifying intensity.

She pointed a single finger right at Cole's face. Her voice was as cold as crushed ice. "Step back, Cole. It's not your turn yet."

Cole froze. The sheer authority in her voice hit him like a wall. He stopped in his tracks, his fists clenching tightly at his sides.

Having neutralized the older brother, June turned her attention back to the thrashing child pinned under her hand. She raised her right hand high into the air, aiming straight for Tristan's backside.