Aydan's gaze landed on Caitlin standing quietly at the edge of the living room. She was dressed in faded jeans and clutching a battered tote, and her hair was parted into two lopsided braids. He scowled but didn't say a word.

Emma's voice rang out, dripping with disdain. "Dad, who let this weirdo in?"

"That's enough out of you," said Aydan, his tone sharp. "She's your sister, whether you like it or not."

Emma jerked upright in disbelief. "You're serious? This is the so-called sister from the middle of nowhere? She's a total disaster."

With a cold smirk, she twirled her freshly painted nails and gestured toward Caitlin. "Figures she's broke, looks a mess, and only wants money. If she's so eager to marry that dying Harris, why not hand her over?"

Aydan's features hardened. Tracking Caitlin down had always been about her mother's inheritance, but maybe sending her to the Harris family would bring even more benefits.

The arrangement would keep the Harris partnership intact and Caitlin under his watch in Aleginia.

Eyes narrowing, Aydan made his decision. "You can marry into the Harris family, but every last thing your mother owned stays with us. Understand?"

Caitlin let out a peal of laughter, as though he'd just told a great joke.

She wandered further into the room, dropped herself onto the couch across from them, and took a long drink from a water glass. "You're missing something here. You came crawling to me, so I'll be the one calling the shots."

"You backwoods trash! You should be grateful we're giving you this chance. Why do you think you get to make demands?" Emma retorted.

Caitlin grinned. "If it's such a big opportunity, why don't you take it yourself?"

Emma's lips curled in anger, and she clung to Aydan's sleeve. "Dad! Are you just going to let her say that?"

Aydan let out a harsh laugh. "The Harris family runs this city. We're already giving you more than you deserve. Who are you to bargain with us?"

Caitlin arched an eyebrow, setting the glass down with a soft clink. "So that's a no? Well, by all means, let Emma walk down the aisle."

Emma spun around, her voice rising again. "Dad, you can't do this to me! I won't marry him!"

"Enough!" Aydan snapped, his glare silencing her on the spot. He stared hard at Caitlin.

Despite her thrift-shop clothes and plain appearance, those eyes were the spitting image of her mother's.

Something about the way Caitlin met his gaze took him back in time, and a shiver ran down his spine. He sprang up from his seat.

Caitlin lounged back, unbothered, holding his stare without a trace of fear.

"Talk," said Aydan, never looking away. "What are your terms?"

"Simple." She raised two fingers. "First, I want every single thing my mother left behind. Second, I want twenty percent of White Group's shares."

Emma jumped to her feet. "You must be insane! Twenty percent? What are you smoking?"

Aydan's eyes stayed locked on Caitlin as he mulled it over. "The best I can do is ten percent. That's my final offer."

Caitlin laughed, tipping her head at him. "You're really going to argue over twenty percent? Fine by me. You've got another daughter ready to play bride. I'll pass."

Aydan's jaw worked in frustration. "Fine. You get twenty percent. I'll have it transferred today."

His eyes narrowed as he added, "But don't even think about your mother's things. Those stay with us."

Caitlin's grin faded, replaced by a harsh glare that locked onto Aydan.

It was obvious she wouldn't be reclaiming her mother's belongings—at least not yet.

Aydan probably meant to hold them over her head to make sure she stayed in line.

If that was the case, then she would make the White family find out the hard way what it meant to try to leash someone who was determined to settle old scores.

A faint smirk crossed Caitlin's lips. "Have it your way. Let's put everything in writing."

Papers signed and share certificate in hand, Caitlin got to her feet and waved the document with a hint of swagger. "Looks like I'm done here."

Aydan cut her off. "Wait. The Harris family doesn't tolerate games. I'll drive you myself."

Inside the car, he passed her a file. "Everything you need to know about the Harris family is in there. Learn it, and don't bring trouble back to our doorstep."

Caitlin flipped through the folder, only pausing when she spotted a photograph of Shawn tucked into the section about him.

So, fate had decided they'd meet again—this time, under very different terms.

Inside the folder, Caitlin pieced together the Harris family tree. Shawn's grandfather, Harold Harris, had married twice.

His first wife died young, soon after giving birth to two sons. That same year, Harold remarried and later had a third son and a daughter with his second wife.

Tragedy struck fifteen years ago when the eldest son from the first marriage died during a risky business trip abroad. That eldest son was Shawn's father. The spotlight faded from Shawn after that. Sickly and disabled, people whispered that he wouldn't make it past twenty-eight. Within the family, he was all but written off.

The battle for inheritance had only grown uglier as each ambitious member tried to claim the top spot. From the reports, Harold's younger grandsons all seemed stronger contenders than Shawn.

Yet, the morning's ambush outside Aleginia proved Shawn was far tougher than anyone believed. He'd held his own—hardly the helpless invalid described in the file.

"Miss White." Aydan's assistant, Liam Davis, broke the silence. "Garrett Harris—Harold's third grandson—has supported White Group for years. We expect you to cooperate with him once you're part of the Harris family."

Caitlin snapped the file shut. "Everyone's already scrambling for alliances? Dad, maybe pick your side a little more carefully, or you'll wind up with nothing."

Aydan snapped, "Watch your mouth. I'm warning you—cross Garrett and you're finished."

Caitlin's smirk told him exactly how much that threat mattered.

He started to say more, but something in her steady look made him pause.

For just a moment, the daughter from nowhere had a presence that rattled even him.

Meanwhile, on the third floor of the Harris family residence...

"Mr. Harris, everyone who spotted you in the parking lot earlier has been dealt with. No one's going to blow your cover," Maverick Price said.

Shawn reclined in his wheelchair, dressed in black, looking far removed from the violence of the day. He toyed with a necklace—a hexagram ruby, flawlessly cut—that had belonged to the woman who saved him.

The ruby pendant had been shaped into a six-pointed star, the stone clear and bright, the work on it unlike anything he had seen.

Besides, after he took the pill she gave him, his health actually improved. The necklace and the pill—these two items made Shawn realize the woman was not ordinary.

"There are still witnesses in Aleginia," Shawn said quietly.

Maverick blinked, and then nodded. "I'll track down every last one, sir. Nothing will lead back to you."

Without a word, Shawn placed the necklace in Maverick's hand. "Find out who owned this."

"Yes, sir." Maverick hesitated. "If we track her down, do you want her gone? She's a loose end."

Shawn rolled the ring on his finger, replaying the image of the woman's teasing stare. His voice didn't waver. "Find her and bring her here. I'll handle the rest."

"Understood." Maverick then continued, "The White family should be arriving with your new bride any minute. What's the plan?"

Shawn shrugged. "Give her a once-over. Just make sure she survives her first day under my roof."

"Got it." Maverick nodded and left.

Meanwhile, outside the Harris family residence, the White family's car pulled up.

Aydan stepped out to a warm greeting from the butler. "Welcome, Mr. White. Ma'am, this way please."

Inside, Betsy Harris appeared, extending a hand in welcome. "Mr. White, it's nice to see you."

Aydan beamed, spotting Betsy. "Miss Harris, you didn't have to meet us at the door."

Betsy's eyes flicked over to Caitlin. So this was the White family's offering? Not what they'd expected. Clearly, the White family had sent a stand-in, but in Betsy's mind, someone like this unattractive woman was a perfect fit for her cousin Shawn.

Betsy's smile never faltered. "So this is Emma? She looks nothing like the photographs. Quite a surprise, isn't it?"

Aydan nudged Caitlin forward, voice booming. "This is my eldest, my pride and joy! As long as it's a White daughter, that's good enough for the marriage, right?"

How shameless. Betsy almost rolled her eyes at him. Even so, she had no intention of calling him out. "Of course, Mr. White. We'll look after her from here."

Aydan grinned in relief, and then shot Caitlin a sharp glance, murmuring through clenched teeth, "Do not screw this up. One mistake and you're finished."

Unbothered, Caitlin met his glare with a look of pure boredom before facing Betsy. "Which room is mine?"

"Show her to her quarters," Betsy instructed the butler.

As Caitlin and the butler made their way upstairs, Nikolas Harris stepped out, watching her leave. "Seriously? That's who the Whites sent over? I thought Shawn was getting someone stunning."

Betsy's lips curled in amusement. "Oh, Nik, don't be rude. She's just new here."

Nikolas sneered, "I can't wait to watch her make a fool of herself in front of everyone at the dinner tomorrow."

The butler, Jax Gray, accompanied Caitlin up the staircase, his voice descending to a cautious whisper. "Ma'am, you've only just set foot in the Harris residence, so you may not yet comprehend the intricacies of Shawn's temperament. He harbors an absolute revulsion toward physical contact and possesses zero tolerance for individuals who speak excessively. Unless the situation demands immediate intervention, wisdom dictates leaving him undisturbed."

After a brief pause, he added, "He doesn't like sweets, cannot stomach cilantro appearing in any preparation, and consumes only black coffee—stark, bitter, and entirely unsweetened..."

Caitlin severed his words mid-sentence. "I'm not employed as his personal assistant. You have no obligation to educate me about his particular preferences."

"I urge you most sincerely to commit these details to memory." Jax repositioned his wire-rimmed glasses with meticulous care. "Shawn's three previous wives met their untimely deaths precisely because they disregarded his carefully established boundaries. Surely you wouldn't desire to join their ranks as the fourth casualty, would you?"

Caitlin frowned. A threat? No conventional servant would possess the audacity to voice such inflammatory words. Shawn cultivated a public persona of fragility and gentle temperament, yet Jax undeniably harbored genuine fear toward him. Had Shawn deliberately dispatched the butler to issue this thinly disguised warning, to let her know her place?

"Your accommodations, ma'am," Jax declared with formal precision.

Caitlin cast a cursory glance toward the doorway. "I'll be occupying this space. Where exactly does my husband take his rest?"

"His room is next door," Jax responded smoothly.

"That arrangement proves entirely unacceptable. Wherever my husband lays his head at night, I shall do the same." Caitlin raised a single eyebrow in unmistakable challenge.

"I..." Jax hadn't prepared himself for this particular response in the slightest.

Before he could construct an appropriate refusal, Caitlin glided past his position and advanced directly toward Shawn's room.

"Wait!" Jax rushed after her retreating figure, panic climbing steadily through his chest cavity.

Yet Caitlin crossed into Shawn's bedroom with the effortless familiarity of a woman stepping into her own private sanctuary. Jax arrested his movement at the threshold, thoroughly unwilling to gamble with his employer's legendary wrath by pursuing her further.

She conducted a thorough assessment of the surroundings. For a member of the influential Harris family, Shawn's personal quarters struck her as remarkably austere.

Shawn occupied the edge of the mattress, deeply engrossed in his reading material. The moment he registered Caitlin's presence, the warmth in his gaze evaporated, plummeting several glacial degrees. "Get out."

Caitlin feigned complete deafness to his command. She unlatched her suitcase with methodical movements, extracted several carefully folded garments, drew open his wardrobe doors, and proceeded to hang her belongings directly alongside his with studied calm.

She conducted herself with the leisurely assurance of someone who'd already established complete dominance over the territory.

"Your designated room occupies the space next door," Shawn stated, his tone resembling frozen granite. "The butler communicated that fact with complete clarity."

Caitlin traversed the distance separating them, lowered herself to his eye level, and allowed her fingertips to drift across his cheek with calculated tenderness. "Our families have made a deal. We're practically a couple now. How can we sleep in different rooms?"

Shawn's stare possessed sufficient coldness to crystallize flame itself. A barely perceptible smile—dangerous and predatory—materialized across his lips. "Tell me. What variety of flowers captures your particular preference?"

"Darling," she breathed, weaving her arms around his shoulders and inclining forward until their faces existed mere inches apart. "Already displaying such eagerness to discover my personal tastes?"

"Simply provide the information," Shawn replied, his voice carrying deceptive gentleness. "So I can ensure they're properly delivered to adorn your grave this time next year."

A vicious glint of polished steel severed the space separating them as Shawn's concealed dagger launched itself toward Caitlin's vulnerable throat.

She intercepted his attacking wrist mid-trajectory, rotated it with the precision of extensive training, and extracted the blade from his possession in one seamlessly fluid motion.

She revolved the deadly weapon between her fingers, examining it with undisguised admiration. "Magnificent sapphire craftsmanship adorning the hilt. What an extraordinarily generous present. I'll be retaining possession of it."

Shawn's eyes contracted into suspicious slits. The lightning speed and combat proficiency she'd just exhibited transcended anything the White family daughter possessed any reputation for whatsoever.

"Who the hell are you really?" he demanded, his voice resonating with accusation.

Caitlin curved her lips into a smile of pure sugary sweetness. "Your wife, darling."

The endearment darling spilled from her lips like golden honey. Anyone positioned at the door eavesdropping might have incorrectly assumed they were observing a passionately enamored couple.

"Does every White family member receive upbringing completely devoid of proper manners or social decorum?" he inquired with scathing disdain.

"Dreadfully sorry," Caitlin whispered with mock contrition, diminishing the gap until their noses hovered an inch from contact. "That's merely our inherent nature. You'll discover methods to accommodate it."

Shawn locked his gaze onto her eyes and experienced a profoundly unsettling shock of recognition coursing through him.

Operating almost entirely on instinct, he elevated his hand and obscured the lower portion of her face from view. Those particular eyes—he'd encountered them in the shadowed parking lot.

Caitlin captured his hand, planted a deliberately slow kiss against his palm, and permitted her free hand to travel with provocative intent down the plane of his chest.

Shawn clamped his fingers around her delicate wrist in an unyielding iron grip and wrenched her chin upward.

"You were the woman in the parking lot!"

He jerked her head to the side, scrutinizing her exposed neck for the wound his dagger had carved into her flesh—a wound that logically couldn't have disappeared without leaving substantial evidence.

Caitlin's pupils constricted sharply in involuntary response.

Before she could mount any defense, his probing fingers had already descended upon her throat...