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.

Alec downed the cold water, though the chill did nothing to steady the heat surging under his skin.

He nudged the air-conditioning lower and shrugged out of his robe, leaving only a pair of fitted shorts clinging to his hips.

Rylee's breath hitched when she caught the full view of his sculpted muscles, the dim light carving sharp shadows along his torso.

A rush of warmth flooded her cheeks, and she tore her gaze away, curling into the corner of the sofa as if the cushions could shield her from him.

With the lights dimmed, the room softened into a muted glow, and she heard the mattress dip as Alec settled onto the spacious bed.

For all the years they'd been married, tonight marked the first time she had ever shared a room with him.

Sleep refused to come. Rylee shifted restlessly, unable to quiet her racing thoughts.

Her phone suddenly lit up, the glow sharp in the darkness—Rory Murray, Claire's brother, had sent a message.

He came from a line of formidable attorneys, each one sharper in court than the last, and he was no exception.

Rylee had already passed him every scrap of information she'd pieced together about the incident from the night before.

Was it possible he'd finally uncovered something significant?

She tapped the notification, and the haze clouding her thoughts lifted in an instant.

"Rylee, the one who drugged you was Saul Smith—the CEO of Smith Group. Do you want to deal with him yourself? I can send you the address."

Her response came swift and certain. "Stay put. I'm coming."

She pushed to her feet, tugged open the wardrobe with a quiet sweep, and slipped into fitted black casual wear.

Tucking her hair beneath a baseball cap and pulling a mask into place, she slipped out the door like a shadow.

Moments after she disappeared down the hall, Alec's eyes snapped open.

Out on the road, her car tore through the night, the engine roaring as Rylee pressed the accelerator all the way down toward an abandoned factory on the outskirts.

Inside the dim factory, a stout middle-aged man and several of his henchmen lay bound on the cold floor, ropes digging into their limbs, the place littered with debris.

A tall man stood over them, his presence dark and imposing, eyes sharp enough to cut.

The stout man's body trembled uncontrollably. "Who on earth put you up to this? I swear—I never laid a hand on Mrs. Bradley's drink!" he babbled.

Rory's jaw tightened, fury flaring across his features as he stepped forward to deliver another blow.

Before his fist landed, the metal door slammed open.

Rylee strode inside, her quiet, obedient facade nowhere in sight. She reached for a discarded metal pipe, testing its weight before moving toward the stout man.

The factory rang with his ragged screams as she hit him with the pipe.

With her gaze blazing, Rylee barked out the demand. "There's no damn reason for you to come after me. Why the hell did you drug me? Spit it out."

Saul coughed up a mouthful of blood, panic twisting his features. "Mrs. Bradley, please—have mercy! I swear I didn't drug you, and I never laid a hand on you last night! It was..."

One of his bound henchmen lurched forward, lowering his voice in a frantic whisper. "Mr. Bradley made it clear—we're not to say a word, no matter what."

Torn between conflicting fears for two people, Saul collapsed into a miserable wail. "I'm innocent, I really am!"

Rylee's lashes lowered as suspicion sharpened inside her. Something about the exchange felt off.

Her gaze locked on the meddling henchman.

She caught the way Saul's gaze faltered, the truth trembling on his lips—right before the henchman cut in.

Rylee tilted her chin at Rory. "Hold him for me."

Rory signaled his men, and two of them stepped in, pinning the henchman to the filthy floor.

Closing the distance, Rylee slipped her fingers to his collar and lifted a miniature camera free.

She straightened and turned to Saul, a glacial smile curving across her mouth. "Mr. Smith, are you planning to run another little stunt?"

Meanwhile, in the Bradley Mansion, Alec sat rigidly before the glowing monitor, the live feed spilling across the screen.

Then the image shattered into static.

The final frame froze on Rylee's soft, taunting smile.

Beneath Alec's steady gaze, a storm began to coil.

Was this really the same Rylee he thought he knew?

He once believed she would always swallow every slight without a word.

Yet tonight shattered that illusion—he had never truly seen Rylee for who she was.

Growing up beside her had made him arrogant enough to think he knew everything about her.

Jaycob's call cut through his disbelief.

"Mr. Bradley, who knew Mrs. Bradley would be bold enough to quietly bring Rory on board—and unleash payback this savage! She even caught the man we planted, though he managed not to expose your identity."

Alec felt a strange, simmering irritation rise in his chest.

Rylee hadn't turned to him at all—she had gone to Rory instead.

Unbelievable.

Had she gotten daring enough to pretend he no longer mattered?

He answered with a low command, "Jaycob, get over there and pull Saul and his group out. If Rylee tries to stop you, tell her you're acting on my orders."