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."

Jaycob barreled into the factory with his men, boots scraping across the concrete.

Saul lay crumpled in the corner, his face so mangled it was hard to tell where the bruises ended and the blood began.

Jaycob froze for a beat, shaken by this brutal, unfamiliar edge to Rylee.

Tension thickened as Jaycob and Rory squared off, their crews glowering at each other like two packs on the verge of tearing into a fight.

Jaycob cleared his throat and stated, "Mr. Bradley told me Mr. Smith is one of our partners, so let's not take this any further."

Rylee let out a low, amused breath, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Jaycob, I called Alec for help this morning and he never showed. Now he's suddenly interested? Tell me—does a business deal mean more to him than I do?"

Left scrambling for a response, Jaycob just stared in silence.

Rory pieced the situation together, fury darkening his expression. "Has Alec lost his damn mind?"

Dropping his gaze, Jaycob answered through a tight jaw, "Mrs. Bradley, Mr. Bradley made it clear—no one's supposed to get hurt over a petty mess like this."

Rylee felt something inside her collapse. A hollow little laugh slipped out—mocking herself for ever expecting more.

In Alec's world, she wasn't worth as much attention as a mediocre business deal.

She stood motionless as Jaycob escorted the battered Saul and his henchmen away, her expression drained of warmth.

"Rory, could you put together a divorce agreement for me? I'm not asking for a cent. I just want it done as fast as possible."

Rory's fury ebbed into something steadier. "Rylee, you've always known exactly what you want, but this time? Let me give you one piece of advice. Don't just walk away—take what's rightfully yours. Got it?"

She answered with a soft nod, "All right."

Worry flickered openly across Rory's eyes.

He lifted a hand, meaning to smooth a reassuring palm over her long hair, but she'd already turned, walking away before he could touch her.

"Rory, I'll wait for your update," she called over her shoulder.

His hand dropped uselessly to his side, a sharp ache tightening in his chest.

He told himself it was fine—tomorrow would give him another chance.

...

From the balcony, Alec watched a pair of headlights slice through the distant dark.

The car barreled up the drive at an audacious speed, and then whipped into a flawless drift that sent gravel skittering across the pavement.

A flicker of surprise crossed his features.

Never in his wildest thoughts had he pictured Rylee behind the wheel like that.

And it wasn't just her driving—she had tracked down Saul and orchestrated retaliation under the cover of night.

How had he ever convinced himself she was dull, forgettable, and incapable?

Her car rolled to a stop outside the house. Rylee jumped out the moment the engine quieted, sprinting toward the entrance with fluid, athletic grace.

His gaze lingered on the slim outline of her figure as she moved.

This Rylee pulsed with life—sharp, vivid, unpredictable.

How many versions of her had he failed to see?

With a sharp crash, the door flew inward.

Rylee strode inside, breath still quick from the run. From outside, she had already spotted him on the balcony.

Alec slipped his phone into his pocket and turned, wearing that cool, untouchable expression he always used as a shield. "Why are you wandering around at this hour? As long as you're in the Bradley Mansion, stay in line and don't make a mess of anything."

Drawing a steady breath, she bit down on her lip, forcing back the surge of anger and disappointment clawing at her chest. "We'll be divorced before long—so stop pretending my life still has anything to do with you."

The door closed with a thud before her footsteps vanished into the bathroom for yet another shower.

When she finished, she curled up on the sofa without a word, her back firmly angled away from him.

Alec crossed the room toward the massive bed, but his gaze slipped toward the quiet woman lying on the cushions, lingering on the delicate curve of her ankle peeking from beneath the blanket.

Angry red scratches streaked across her skin, still oozing faint threads of blood.

A sharp, unwelcome sting cut through his chest at the sight.

Barely above a whisper, his voice reached for her. "Rylee."

She didn't so much as flinch.

Irritation tightening his jaw, he crossed the room and caught her arm.

The sudden pull nearly sent her tumbling off the cushions.

How could she weigh so little—like someone surviving on nothing but scraps and scars.

He caught her around the waist before she fell, steadying her narrow frame against him.

Startled, Rylee clutched at his shirt, her eyes wide and shaken. "What the hell are you doing?"

Only then did Alec feel the bite of his own impatience, the rough edge in the way he'd grabbed her.

Regret clawed at his chest for a brief second—then he let her slip from his grasp. "If you're hurt, deal with it. Make sure Grandma doesn't see this—she'll jump to all the wrong conclusions."

Rylee followed the direction of his gaze and noticed the scrape along her ankle.

It wasn't the sort of thing she ever bothered with.

By then, Alec had already grabbed the medicine kit and dropped it onto the carpet with a dull thud. "Get it cleaned up," he said, voice clipped.

The chill in his tone nicked at her far deeper than the wound itself.

He never sounded like that with Claire… so what was she still clinging to?

She lowered her face, letting the shadow hide her disappointment, and quietly pulled out the iodine to dab at the cut.

Alec shifted into a lazy sprawl across the sheets. "Three minutes. After that, lights off. Don't keep me awake."

Heat flared in her chest, and she snapped, "Zoie, turn off the lights."

"On it, ma'am. Lights going off now," Zoie, the smart system, chimed sweetly.

Alec bit back the urge to roll his eyes.

The next morning, Rylee stepped back into the Evans residence, her expression calm but unwavering.

"I'm done with Alec. I want to divorce him," she announced flatly.

Karan Evans shot to her feet before the sentence fully landed. Her palm cracked across Rylee's cheek with such force that Rylee staggered and dropped to the floor.

Dazed, she stared up at Karan, stunned to see half the family gathered in the room—yet not a single person moved to help her.

Karan jabbed a trembling finger at her, voice rising with fury. "Rylee, have you lost your damn mind? You chased Alec shamelessly from the time you were a child. Then right after graduation, you drugged that man and crawled into his bed, humiliating this family for years! And now you dare talk about divorce?"

Her voice sharpened to a vicious edge. "You're an adopted daughter. Where do you get the audacity to throw away the Bradley name? Without them propping you up, what are you worth?"

Rylee took in her adoptive mother's twisted expression, a hollow ache spreading through her chest.

Ever since learning she wasn't their real daughter, she had studied every shift in the Evans family's moods, bending over backward to earn even a scrap of approval.

It had never crossed her mind that, in their eyes, she was nothing more than a mark of shame.

Hank Evans, her adoptive father, offered a half-hearted murmur of comfort before releasing a weary sigh. "Rylee, there's no point hiding it anymore. We've located our biological daughter, Alina Evans. Alec is bound to learn sooner or later that you were never truly part of the Evans bloodline. Instead of obsessing over divorce, you should think about how to stay in Alec's good graces and keep this marriage alliance intact. That's the smartest path for you."

With that, he waved a hand toward a servant. "Go bring Alina downstairs."

Before long, a girl around Rylee's age descended the staircase.

She headed straight for Karan, who swept her into an affectionate hug and gently fussed with the strands of hair falling across her forehead.

With a voice softened by warmth, Karan murmured, "Alina."

Rylee's vision blurred as her eyes reddened.

Not once had Karan held her like that.

Only now did she understand—Karan, like any mother, saved her tenderness for her own flesh and blood.

Not being Karan's biological daughter meant she'd never had any real claim to that kind of affection in the first place—so what right did she ever have to long for it?

A hollow weight dragged through her chest, as if the world had quietly closed its doors on her.

Why had it been this way since childhood—why did everything she reached for slip through her fingers, no matter how fiercely she held on?

Karan leveled a cold, dismissive stare at her as she snapped, "Rylee, you should be grateful Alec even tolerates someone of your lowly background. Do you have any idea what's at stake? The Bradley family hold the key to our funding, and you're out here whining about divorce? I swear, if those words leave your mouth again, I'll cut you off without a second thought!"

The more Karan spoke, the heavier the ache in Rylee's chest grew—every sentence another blow she couldn't block.

Not once had this house offered her warmth.

If that was all this place held for her, then walking away felt like no loss at all.

A steely resolve sharpened her gaze as she pushed herself upright. "Then what are you waiting for? Go ahead—cut me off and be done with it!"

Karan's rage exploded; she flung a porcelain cup across the room, the impact cracking it into a spray of jagged pieces.

"You ungrateful brat! After everything the Evans family did for you, this is how you repay us? How dare you talk back?"

Shards scattered across the floor, one catching Rylee's calf and slicing a clean, stinging line that welled with blood.

Alina drifted forward with perfect timing, slipping a hand around Rylee's arm. "Rylee, you're bleeding. Come on, let me clean that up for you."

She tilted in closer, her breath brushing Rylee's ear. "After enjoying the Evans name for so many years, shouldn't you be ready to hand everything back to its rightful owner?"

The sweetness in her tone finally cracked. Rylee pulled free, ice settling in her chest.

Alina jerked back in exaggerated surprise, her heel striking a kettle behind her. Scalding water sloshed over her leg.

A piercing scream tore from her throat. "Ah! My leg!"

She bolted toward Karan, collapsing into her embrace as though the pain had shattered her. "It hurts, Mom... I'm really scared…"

Hank stormed over and struck Rylee hard across the cheek, the blow snapping her head to the side. "Rylee, how could you do something so cruel?"

He barked at the servants to fetch the doctor immediately.

Rage flared in Karan's eyes as she pulled the shaking Alina into her arms. "If anything happens to Alina, you'll pay for every bit of it!"