Harry stared at the red mark blooming across his knuckles.

For a moment, he looked genuinely stunned, as if he could not believe Ciel had dared to touch him.

Then his jaw tightened. A vein rose in his neck.

"Do not test my limits, Ciel," he warned.

Ciel stood straight. There was no fear in her posture.

"Wake up, Harry," she said coldly. "I have absolutely zero obsession left for you."

Harry froze.

The indifference in her voice sent an unfamiliar chill through him.

"You're lying," he said at once. "You're throwing a tantrum because of last night."

Ciel's lips curved faintly.

"You overestimate your charm. Your selfishness and fake, hypocritical personality make me physically sick."

The words pierced his ego.

His breathing grew rough. He stepped closer again, using his height to cast a shadow over her.

"You are nothing without me," he snarled. "Nothing."

Ciel did not move back.

"Look at you," she said. "Throwing a tantrum like a three-year-old whose toy was taken away."

She paused just long enough for the insult to sink in.

"After June 3rd, I will be your aunt-in-law. I expect you to follow basic family etiquette when addressing me."

The word aunt struck him again.

Pain tightened in Harry's chest, sudden and severe. He did not understand it. He only felt the panic turn into rage.

His fists clenched.

"You are going to marry a vegetable!" he shouted. "A man who can't even speak. You'll spend the rest of your life as a living widow."

Ciel looked at his twisted face.

She felt no anger now. Only exhaustion, and pity for the girl she used to be.

"Taking care of a hero who cannot feel anything," she said calmly, "is ten thousand times better than waking up beside a disgusting hypocrite like you."

Harry snapped.

He raised his hand, intending to slap her.

Ciel did not flinch.

She stared at his raised hand with cold eyes.

"There is a security camera above your left shoulder, Harry," she said quietly.

His arm froze.

The instincts of a politician terrified of scandal finally stopped him.

Slowly, he lowered his hand. His fingers curled so tightly his knuckles cracked.

Ciel wasted no more time.

She stepped around him and continued down the hall.

As she passed, the clean scent of her shampoo drifted toward him.

Harry's chest seized.

Another sharp spasm of pain tore through him.

He turned, staring at her back.

"You will regret this!" he roared. "You will come crying back to me on your knees!"

Ciel did not stop.

She treated his voice like street noise.

At the end of the hall, she pushed open the heavy oak doors and stepped into the bright courtyard.

The black Lincoln Navigator was already waiting.

The driver opened the rear door.

Ciel slid inside.

"Take me back to Manhattan. Now."

Behind her, the oak doors swung shut.

Harry stood in the dim hallway, staring at the closed doors.

A suffocating emptiness crashed over him.

He turned and slammed his fist into the expensive silk wallpaper. The wall shuddered.

His chest heaved as he leaned his forehead against the wall.

He did not understand why it hurt.

He only knew the pain was unbearable.

A few days later, afternoon sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Ciel's Manhattan apartment.

Ciel sat at her glass desk. A thick stack of wedding documents lay open before her. Since Deacon was comatose, the ceremony had been reduced to a small, private event.

But anything involving the Chavez family still came with complications.

A soft knock sounded.

Holly Weaver, Ciel's newly hired personal assistant, entered with a silver clipboard.

"Miss Miller," Holly said carefully, "the main estate sent the proposed list for the groom's escort and groomsmen."

Ciel took the clipboard.

Her eyes landed on the first name printed in bold.

Harry Chavez.

Her brows tightened.

"Madam Eleonora insisted," Holly explained. "She said since General Deacon cannot attend in person, having the eldest grandson lead the escort is the most honorable arrangement for the family image."

Ciel gave a short, cold laugh.

She understood the calculation immediately.

Having her ex-fiancé escort her to her new husband was deliberate humiliation. It would make her look like an object passed between men before the New York elite.

Ciel picked up her Montblanc pen.

She pressed the nib to the paper and drew a thick black line through Harry's name.

"Call the head butler at the main estate," she said, handing the clipboard back. "Tell him Harry Chavez is banned from every logistical and ceremonial part of this wedding."

Holly's eyes widened.

"Miss Miller, rejecting Madam Eleonora's arrangement so directly may cause backlash from the main house."

Ciel closed the folder with a sharp snap.

"I am about to be Deacon's wife. I have the right to decide who escorts me into my husband's home."

Before Holly could respond, the apartment buzzer blared.

Heavy fists pounded against the front door.

Holly jumped and hurried to open it.

Harry shoved past her, his face dark with fury. He marched straight into the living area and locked his eyes on Ciel.

In his fist was a crumpled copy of the rejected itinerary.

He slammed it onto the glass desk so hard the surface rattled.

"Do you think crossing out my name with a pen erases the fact that you belonged to me?" he sneered.

Ciel did not look at the paper.

She picked up her porcelain coffee cup and took a slow sip.

"I just don't want to look at something that ruins my appetite on the most important day of my life."

Harry planted both hands on the desk and leaned forward.

"You're rushing to marry a vegetable," he mocked. "You don't even have a decent man to escort you. Tomorrow, the entire city will laugh at you."

Ciel set down her cup and leaned back, keeping distance between them.

"You may attend the dinner as a regular guest, Harry. But if you go near my escort fleet, I will call the police and have you arrested for harassment."

The word police struck his ego hard.

His face turned dark red.

He searched her eyes for any sign of a bluff, any trace of the desperate love she used to show him.

There was nothing.

Harry straightened, breathing hard.

"You ungrateful bitch," he hissed. "Let's see who is pathetic enough to escort you to a graveyard."

He turned and stormed out.

The front door slammed so hard the apartment walls shook.

Holly stood pale by the entryway.

Ciel did not blink.

She picked up her pen again and scanned the remaining names.

Her eyes stopped on one.

Julian Chavez.

A cousin.

Perfect.

She circled his name, securing a clean barrier against Harry.

Hours after leaving Ciel's apartment, Harry sat alone in the dark corner of an exclusive Manhattan club.

Jazz music drifted through the velvet-lined room. A crystal glass rested in his hand, half-filled with expensive whiskey.

He loosened his tie and drank hard.

Ciel's voice kept echoing in his head.

I will call the police and have you arrested for harassment.

His stomach twisted.

He could not understand how the woman who once chased him now looked at him like trash.

The club door opened.

Julian Chavez walked in wearing a relaxed dark blazer. He spotted Harry immediately and took the seat beside him.

"Drinking away the pain of being banned from the wedding escort?" Julian asked lightly.

Harry shot him a glare.

"I'm celebrating," he snapped. "I finally got rid of a clingy problem."

Julian accepted a martini from the bartender.

"The entire estate is talking about it," he said. "Ciel crossed out your name herself."

Harry tightened his grip around the whiskey glass.

The word banned burned.

"She's an ungrateful idiot," Harry muttered. "Without me, let's see how she walks into that dead estate with any dignity."

Julian's expression cooled.

"You look terrible, Harry. You're about to run for Senate, and you're losing your mind over a woman you claim you don't care about."

Harry slammed his palm against the bar.

"I am not losing my mind. I just hate it when property disobeys me."

Julian stared at him for several seconds.

Then he sighed.

"You need to face reality. You were cruel to Ciel for years."

Harry froze.

"I gave her everything."

"No," Julian said flatly. "You gave her humiliation."

He began listing incidents one after another.

Harry mocking her outfits at galas.

Leaving her outside in the rain during a charity dinner while flirting with other women inside.

Ignoring her messages for days.

Every memory hit harder than the alcohol.

Harry suddenly remembered Ciel standing alone in the rain, soaked through, still forcing herself to smile when he arrived late.

Pain pierced his chest.

His ego fought back immediately.

Crash.

He slammed the whiskey glass against the bar hard enough to shatter it.

Amber liquid and broken glass scattered across the polished wood.

"She brought it on herself!" Harry roared. "She threw herself at me!"

Julian looked at the broken glass, then at Harry's face.

"Then pray you never realize what you actually lost."

He stood and left.

Harry remained alone in the dark corner, breathing hard while staring at the shattered glass and the reflection of his own ruined expression.