Alec didn't spare it another thought.

In his eyes, Rylee remained a sheltered doll who couldn't fend for herself, forever pretending to push him away in some childish bid for attention—an act that bored him to the bone.

Without hesitation, he turned on his heel and walked off.

Rylee stayed rooted in place, watching his cold, retreating figure dissolve into the corridor. His earlier phone call with Claire flashed through her mind, and a faint, brittle smile curved at her lips. Her own husband had already fallen for her childhood friend; holding on any longer would only deepen the shame.

Unsteady on her feet, she headed downstairs to catch a cab back to the villa.

She needed the truth—one final blow that would shatter whatever remained of her heart.

...

Outside the hotel entrance, Jaycob Hall spotted his boss approaching and rushed over, hurriedly pulling open the car door. "Mr. Bradley, about what happened last night between you and your wife…"

Alec's voice sliced through the moment, flat and icy. "She didn't realize that man was me. There's nothing to discuss."

During the previous night's chaos, he had stormed into the hotel room, dragged the intruder out, and found Rylee clinging to him in a drug-hazed daze.

Under the influence, she had been sinfully warm and shockingly bold—nothing like the quiet, forgettable woman she usually showed him.

His restraint had snapped, and in the end, he'd slept with her without thinking twice.

Now that the heat had burned off, only a cold sense of absurdity gnawed at him.

That woman was nothing but a blemish on his spotless reputation.

He had no intention of letting her cling to even a scrap of hope. Whatever happened last night would stay buried.

The sharpness in Alec's voice caught Jaycob off guard, leaving him blinking in confusion. "So Mrs. Bradley has no idea? Then… won't she assume she slept with Saul Smith?"

Alec cut him a sharp, warning look that made Jaycob snap his mouth shut before steering the conversation elsewhere. "We've traced everything. The one who slipped her the drug was... your sister. Saul only dared make a move because Miss Bradley pushed him to."

Alec pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, irritation tightening his expression.

What on earth was Bryanna thinking this time?

He drew out his phone, tapped across the screen with cool precision, and froze Bryanna Bradley's secondary card without a second thought.

Afterward, he fired off a message. "Jaycob will arrange your departure tomorrow. You're studying abroad for six months. Don't return until you finish your coursework."

Her call came through instantly, her voice shrill over the car's Bluetooth. "Alec, why are you cutting off my card? Why are you sending me overseas?"

Alec let a frosty smile tug at his mouth. "Bryanna, are you seriously pretending you don't know what you've done?"

Bryanna stiffened the instant she realized her scheme had been uncovered.

With barely restrained fury, she burst out, "Alec, Rylee was the one who drugged you back then—if not for that, you would've married Claire! I only wanted her to taste what it's like to be drugged!"

Alec answered with a low, cutting edge to his voice, "Shut your damn mouth! Forget tomorrow—you're leaving tonight."

Bryanna dissolved into frantic sobs. "No way I'm leaving the country! I'll tell Grandma myself if I have to!"

A chill swept across Alec's face, tightening the air in the car. "Bryanna, I already helped you cover up what you did. If you insist on dragging this out, you'd better be ready for the fallout. And you're done causing trouble. Do you understand?"

Cowed by her brother's icy warning, Bryanna hung up, still crying.

A heavy quiet settled between the seats before Alec finally pressed, his tone flat and unreadable. "Who told Rylee where I'd be this morning?"

He flicked a cold glance toward the front. "Don't say another word. I'll let it slide this time."

Jaycob froze, utterly confused, unable to recall a single moment when he had ever leaked Alec's schedule.

Back at the villa, Rylee slipped past the servants' greetings without slowing, her mind locked on the study upstairs.

She pushed inside and crossed to the bookshelf, crouching before the lowest cabinet until the hidden safe came into view.

Her fingers tapped in Claire's birthday.

A soft click signaled the correct code, and the door eased open.

Warm tears blurred her vision as she dug through the contents—layers of neatly arranged documents, investment files, and contracts Alec deemed important. Beneath them sat a thick photo album.

As she lifted it out, the weight of it pulled at her chest. Page after page revealed Claire frozen in time—laughing, studying, smiling shyly at the camera—captured in moments Alec had cherished and preserved like sacred relics.

Only now did it become clear that Alec's heart had been chasing someone else all along—it had always been Claire.

That realization hollowed her out—had he truly never felt anything for her at all?

Rylee caught her lower lip between her teeth, a dull ache spreading through her chest like a bruise.

If that incident years ago had never happened, would Alec have walked down the aisle with Claire instead?

A soft vibration cut through the stillness of the room. Her phone lit up with a call from Skyline Productions.

Rylee stared at the screen for a long beat before forcing herself to answer. Claire's calm, professional voice carried through the line. "Ms. Cooper, this is Claire Murray from Skyline Productions. We were scheduled to meet this morning at the hotel to discuss the adaptation of your work. Has something changed on your end?"

The fact that Claire called her personally made the urgency unmistakable.

Rylee steadied her grip on the phone, her knuckles pale. After a quiet breath, she responded in a muted, controlled voice, "I'm sorry. I've decided not to sell the rights."

Rylee recalled how Claire's production company had been floundering for months, unable to deliver a single standout project while rival studios kept stealing the spotlight.

She had originally planned to reveal that she was Eva, all because of the childhood bond they once shared.

That intention evaporated now.

Thinking back on Claire's practiced warmth and feigned sincerity, a slow wave of revulsion curled through her.

On the phone, Claire sounded unmistakably frantic. "Ms. Cooper, we're genuinely hoping to partner with you. Honestly, our investor is Bradley Group, so funding won't be an issue. We're committed to creating something extraordinary. Their CEO himself even planned to meet you today, but you never arrived…"

Irritation spiked through Rylee. Why did Claire get to order Alec around like he belonged to her?

A reckless spark ignited deep inside her, and for once, she didn't bother to put it out. "Since Bradley Group is supposedly drowning in money, why don't they hand me a hundred million dollars? If they can't, then stop pestering me."

She cut the call the moment the words left her mouth.

Claire stared at her phone, momentarily speechless.

A hundred million dollars!

How the hell could Eva demand such an outrageous sum?

Still rattled, Claire called in her assistant. "Do we have anyone better than Eva?"

The assistant mulled it over before giving a reluctant shake of the head. "Across the country, Eva's still the most in-demand comic artist. Her fanbase covers every major demographic, and her reach is enormous. From what I've heard, even several top overseas studios have been trying to secure deals with her."

Claire seethed beneath her polished exterior.

Her studio had been spinning its wheels for years, and the pressure clawed at her nerves; she needed a headline-making hit, something dazzling enough to justify replacing Rylee and taking her rightful place at Alec's side.

In her mind, Rylee was little more than a decorative figure, quietly ignored throughout her marriage. How could someone like that ever deserve Alec?

She was the one destined to be Mrs. Bradley since the beginning.

Rylee gathered her things with steady, deliberate movements, preparing to move out for a while.

She realized she had been quiet for far too long—so quiet she had nearly disappeared into the shadows of her own life.

Now that she'd chosen to walk away from Alec, solitude was something she'd have to embrace.

The maid, Elyse Miller, appeared at the doorway, hesitating before speaking. "Mrs. Bradley, your grandmother-in-law asked that you accompany Mr. Bradley to the Bradley Mansion for dinner tonight."

Rylee halted mid-motion and let her things fall back onto the bed with weary reluctance.

When Alec's grandmother, Maggie Bradley, issued an instruction, there was no room to decline.

"Alright," she murmured, swallowing the protest that nearly slipped out.

Elyse quietly gathered the scattered items again. "Let me know if you need help tidying up the room."

Rylee offered no reply and slipped away to change, her silence heavy with resignation.

By the time evening settled in, she found herself back at the Bradley Mansion. As she stepped out of the car, Alec's Maybach rolled to a smooth stop beside the fountain, its headlights catching in the mist.

The door swung open, and Alec emerged—immaculate suit, composed posture, that cool, striking face still impossible to ignore.

Rylee gave him the quickest glance before shifting her eyes away, reminding herself she couldn't afford to fall for him anymore, couldn't keep trailing after him the way she once had with such shameless hope.

She hurried into the house, her small frame disappearing past the doorway.

Alec passed his car keys to the butler, his eyes briefly following the way she rushed off before his expression cooled and he headed inside.

Once they entered the living room, Rylee settled in a distant seat, careful to keep space between them.

Ever perceptive, Maggie noticed the tension between them.

Midway through the meal, she set down her utensils and pressed gently. "Alec, you two have been married for three years. Isn't it about time you thought about children?"

Rylee slowed her motions, lifting her gaze just enough to study Alec from beneath her lashes.

Across the table, he happened to be watching her too, his expression steady yet edged with the usual chill that made her chest tighten.

A sudden spark of irritation rose in her. Why did he always look at her that way?

She put on a soft, wounded sigh. "Maggie, these things take two people. Alec barely comes home, so I can't exactly get pregnant by myself."

She dipped her head as she spoke, catching the flash of anger hardening Alec's face. A faint satisfaction warmed her chest.

Maggie immediately turned her disapproval on him. "Alec, you can't drown yourself in work forever. Rylee's feelings matter too. I'll have someone prepare some fertility tonics for the both of you. And the two of you should stay here tonight."

They would stay at the Bradley Mansion tonight? For a split second, Rylee's heartbeat faltered, caught off guard.

In the past three years, she and Alec had been sleeping in separate rooms, and a night at the Bradley Mansion meant one thing—sharing a room with him.

Once, that idea would have filled her with shy excitement.

Now she wanted no surprises, no repeat of anything she couldn't control.

She scrambled for a lifeline. "I… I left all my skincare at the villa. Staying here might be inconvenient…"

Maggie offered a warm smile, unbothered. "We can have someone bring it over, dear, or you can pick up a new set."

Rylee froze, her excuse collapsing in front of her.

Alec's gaze slid toward her, cool and sharp. She looked genuinely hesitant, almost delicate in her discomfort—performing it a little too convincingly.

Hadn't she been the one urging Maggie to make him stay here tonight, all to orchestrate a chance to get close to him again?

With every word, Alec's revulsion twisted a little deeper. "Grandma, she and I aren't..."

Maggie cut him off with a firm wave of her hand, saying, "If you're too busy to think about children, maybe your uncle should take over as CEO. How does that sound?"

Her words struck with the weight of a gut hit.

Alec's jaw tightened, shadows gathering across his face. "I'll follow your arrangement, Grandma."

There was a quiet triumph in the way Maggie smiled, pleased with the outcome. "That's more like it."

An uneasy pressure pressed in around Rylee, leaving her breath tight and her pulse unsteady. Despair curled up in her chest, heavy and suffocating.

Once dinner ended, they made their way upstairs to the second floor. Alec shut the bedroom door with a sharp click and stepped in close, pinning her between his body and the wall.

"Rylee," he muttered, his stare glacial. "You talk about divorce and at the same time use my grandmother to trap me here? Impressive. What's wrong? That desperate to end up in my bed?"

Rylee steadied herself, the weight of every past misunderstanding pressing down on her.

Her lips quivered as she retorted, "Alec, why the hell are you doing this to me?"

He answered without hesitation, his tone sharp with icy contempt, "Because you never do anything without a hidden agenda."

Color drained from Rylee's cheeks as the memory of that hidden photo album flickered through her mind.

She mustered a fragile, bitter smile. "I see."

For years, she had clung to the naïve hope that if she just cleared up the misunderstanding—that she had never drugged him—he might someday soften toward her.

Yet the truth landed heavily now: Alec had never carved out even the smallest corner of his heart for her.

Accepting that, she knew she had to release every lingering illusion before they destroyed her.

Without offering so much as a backward glance, Alec strode into the bathroom.

Rylee slipped into the adjoining bathroom to shower, letting the warm water wash the ache from her limbs.

By the time she stepped back into the bedroom, a faint trail of steam drifting behind her, Alec was already lounging in a bathrobe by the floor-to-ceiling window.

Fresh from his shower, he looked impossibly composed—an effortless vision of cool, breathtaking allure.

Years of drawing polished, impossibly handsome leads made her instinctively catalog beautiful features, and Alec—annoyingly—fit every criterion. For a split second, she almost saw him as a reference sketch for her next male protagonist.

Alec's cool stare flicked toward her, slicing through the thought.

Rylee jerked her gaze away and fussed with her long hair, pretending to smooth out tangles while her pulse thudded in her ears.

A soft knock broke the silence before a servant stepped inside carrying a tray.

Two glasses of dark brown tonic were placed on the table, their murky surface releasing a bitter herbal scent that made her temples tighten.

In a measured gesture, the servant dipped forward politely. "Maggie asked me to make sure you finish these before I take the glasses away."

Rylee stared at the glasses, dread sliding down her spine. There was clearly no escaping this.

After they drained the glasses, a wave of scorching warmth ripped through Alec, leaving him charged with raw, unfamiliar energy.

Color crept across Rylee's cheeks in response.

The servant gathered the empty glasses and slipped out, and the soft click of the door sealed them into a heavy, breathless quiet.

Trying to head off yet another misunderstanding, Rylee spoke up first. "I'll take the sofa tonight," she offered, her voice small but steady.

She crossed to the cabinet and stretched onto her toes to search for a quilt.

Her small frame shifted lightly as she reached, and the soft hem of her nightdress edged higher, revealing the smooth line of her delicate thighs.

Alec's gaze darkened. The image from the previous night blindsided him—her warm legs locked around his waist, her breath unsteady against his skin.

Heat punched through his chest.

Damn it!

What had his grandmother put in that tonic? The effect had hit him like a spark to dry tinder.

He pushed abruptly to his feet and strode to the counter, filling a glass with cold water.

When Rylee turned back with the quilt in her arms, she caught him gulping the water hard.

She tucked her chin, said nothing, and made her way toward the sofa with quiet steps.

Alec tracked her movements with a cool, unreadable stare, waiting to see just how long she planned to keep up her little act.