Twenty days left.

Killian started leaving before dawn and returning long after dusk.

The alliance consolidation he'd once promised had evaporated into thin air.

Sometimes, through intelligence from my friend Genevieve, I would see him in the background of a surveillance photo, standing beside a woman.

I had already seen that face in the blueprints on his hard drive.

That day, my best friend, the top-tier art forger Genevieve Hayes, stopped me.

"Bring your appraisal tools later. We're going to a business meeting. Word is the buyer comes from his old flame's crew."

I nodded, my mind elsewhere.

Though she was my best friend, no one knew our marriage was on ice, much less that our alliance was about to be dissolved.

The meeting was at a pier adjacent to a company owned by Killian.

I knew this was new territory Scarlett had seized since her return, backed by Griffin family funds.

Lately, the underground intelligence networks were flooded with stories hyping up their past romance.

When we walked into the warehouse on the pier, I saw Killian, just as I'd expected.

He was handing a freshly printed deed to a woman perched on a shipping container.

Scarlett.

The moment Killian saw me, his expression froze.

The air in the warehouse crackled with tension.

Scarlett looked at me with a playful glint in her eyes and asked, "And who might this be?"

Killian fell silent, visibly weighing his words.

"I'm Alessia Thorne," I said, my voice steady. "The appraiser for this deal. Mr. Griffin and I..."

Killian and I spoke at the same time.

"We know each other."

As the words fell, my fingers tightened around my appraisal tools until my knuckles turned white.

My fingertips pressed deep crescents into the cold metal.

This wasn't the first time I had covered for Killian, nor was it the first time he was unwilling to publicly acknowledge my identity.

Our strategic marriage had been a convenient lie for us both, but it sealed the truth: we had no future.

The subsequent negotiations over territory did not go smoothly.

Killian had reverted to the ruthless Don of the Griffin family, representing Scarlett and pushing relentlessly in the talks.

"Give up another ten percent of the profits."

He pushed my family's bottom line to the absolute limit.

Genevieve hesitated, then bit her lip and agreed. "Fine. You've earned your reputation, Mr. Griffin. You read our bottom line like an open book."

The man lowered his eyes, not daring to look at me.

He was just as ruthless as the rumors claimed.

Only now, that ruthlessness was aimed at me, his wife in name only.

Scarlett said nothing the entire time. She just smiled languidly, a smile that held no warmth.

There was a hint of provocation in that smile, but more of it was triumph.

She had won, utterly and completely. She had every right to her pride.

Scarlett reached for a bottle of whiskey on the table.

"Let's all have a drink."

Unexpectedly, Killian, who had been so calm during the negotiation, rushed over and pressed her hand down.

"Don't touch that. You don't like this vintage. I'll have someone replace it."

In that instant, the sight felt like a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs.

In five years of marriage, this man had forgotten our anniversaries and mistaken my preferences. Everything I reminded him of was carelessly tossed aside.

And yet, he had always remembered that a painful memory made me loathe this particular brand of whiskey. I’d once secretly cherished that.

Perhaps all the other details proved he didn't love me, but this one thing proved I was special to him, even just a little.

But it turned out that even that small claim to being special was a lie.

The project progressed quickly.

But Killian felt the project was moving too slowly, reminding his subordinate, Harlan, more than once to speed things up.

"This is Scarlett's first big deal here. I don't want anything to go wrong."

I watched it all with a sense of detachment.

That night, after the negotiations, we returned home. Killian lingered on the sofa for a long time before finally speaking.

"Our alliance is on shaky ground. I haven't found the right moment to make things public. I'll make it up to the Thornes, I promise. But right now, Scarlett's deal has to succeed. It's critical."

I nodded, noncommittal.

I didn't remind him that the truly important thing should have been our upcoming alliance ceremony.

A ceremony he had promised but had never once prepared for.

Nor did I remind him that on that day, our alliance's dissolution agreement would become final.

After all, in his eyes, Scarlett was still his priority.

During the project, Killian deliberately avoided situations where Scarlett and I might meet, but Genevieve still sensed something was off.

She asked me with obvious curiosity, "What's really going on between you and Killian?"

I smiled. "What do you mean?"

Genevieve pouted. "He's looked at you more than once with this incredibly guilty expression. That's the look of a man who hasn't completely moved on."

I paused, thinking back.

It wasn't that I hadn't noticed. It was just that everything in the past made it impossible for me to believe what I saw in his eyes.

Ten days left.

That day was supposed to be a regular meeting between our two families.

Scarlett and I talked for a long time. I wasn't sure if she was doing it on purpose. I knew she had probably guessed my relationship with Killian.

I maintained a polite facade.

After the meeting, Killian surprisingly offered to drive me home.

It was the first time.

"Your appraisal skills are impressive. More than I expected," he said.

In five years of marriage, this was the first time he had complimented me.

My hand, which was organizing documents, paused, and I looked at him in confusion.

Killian hesitated for a long time before finally speaking. "About the alliance ceremony… I'm not sure we can go through with it."

I lowered my head, knowing he wanted to cancel it. Because of Scarlett.

"Let's just cancel it. We don't have time to prepare anyway."

I looked up at him, playing along, unwilling to cause a scene.

Killian stared at me in shock, as if he'd heard an answer he never expected.

He suddenly asked, "Are you okay with that?"

He had a point. The old me would have lost it on the spot, demanding to know why.

So many of the humiliating scenes in our marriage stemmed from me losing control, though he was always the one to blame.

I smiled faintly. "Of course. It's just a ceremony."

After a long silence, Killian spoke up again.

"How about this? I'll get you a new armored sedan in a few days."

I glanced at the countdown on my phone. Ten days until the dissolution was complete.

I refused.

His hands on the steering wheel froze, and the bulletproof car nearly ran a red light.

"What about that mansion downtown? Or we could go to that private club you've always wanted to visit."

Killian proposed several compensation plans, but I rejected them all.

By the time I got out of the car, his expression had shifted from embarrassment and guilt to confusion and annoyance.

Reading the confusion on his face, I offered, "Why don't we visit the lakeside villa?"

That villa was where our marriage had first begun.

I did miss it a little.

Killian was stunned, visibly trying to decipher my motives.

Long after I got out of the car, he remained sitting there, staring blankly ahead.