For a moment, Gracie was sure she'd heard him wrong.

The man in front of her was incredibly handsome, though his complexion was slightly pale. He was tall and lean, yet his cold, distant presence seemed to keep everyone at arm's length. His eyes were deep and calm, yet his gaze seemed to see right through people.

And a man like him wanted to marry a complete stranger?

Gracie looked confused for a moment.

Jeremy studied her with a look that held something deeper.

Three years earlier, he'd attended a global AI technology summit. Nexora Group was the world's leading AI company, and he was its founder. He'd kept his identity hidden and taken a seat in the very last row.

Gracie had taken the stage on behalf of SparkTech Group and presented a chip project. She'd been confident, radiant, and impossible to look away from.

Even then, he'd known—a genius like her was wasted on a man like Aidan.

He'd never imagined that the next time he saw her, she'd be in such a sorry state.

"I overheard you and your fiancé just now." Jeremy's voice was low, unyielding. "He's a no-show. So is my fiancée. We're both here, ready for marriage. Why don't we just get married?"

He paused, then added with perfect ease, "Jeremy Reynolds. PhD. Programmer."

Hearing that, Gracie glanced at his shirt—plain, no logo, but the fabric said it all. Senior engineer, she figured. Big tech, probably.

He didn't look especially wealthy, but his presence somehow carried more authority than Aidan.

Marrying someone like Jeremy didn't seem like a bad deal. If Aidan could dump her for that woman, why shouldn't she pick a better man and fight back?

"Gracie Haynes. I'm between jobs right now." She gave him a self-deprecating smile, but she looked completely determined.

She'd already made up her mind to sell her shares in SparkTech Group.

She'd poured the best years of her life into that business with Aidan—every ounce of her youth, every scrap of her talent.

Now she would use her qualifications to get a job at Nexora Group, the largest AI company in the world.

She met his gaze squarely. "My résumé's already at Nexora. Technical Director—if they take me. So if you're in, you're in. Just don't regret it later."

Jeremy smiled so faintly that it was almost impossible to notice. "I won't."

......

Half an hour later, Gracie stared at the newly issued marriage certificate in her hand, still feeling dazed. Had she really gotten married just like that? To a stranger she'd known for less than an hour?

Jeremy slid the certificate into his pocket with effortless grace. "Now that we're legally married, why don't you move in with me? Or I can move into your place."

Gracie took a deep breath and tried to steady herself. Being someone's wife still felt strange. "I'll move in with you, but I need to go home and pack my things first."

"Want me to come with you?" Jeremy asked.

"I'll handle it," she said, her voice steady. "Some scores—I need to settle them myself."

She had to put those five years with Aidan behind her for good.

Jeremy didn't insist. He held out a card—just a private number. "When you're done, call me. I'll come."

Gracie could barely move her legs as she returned to the house she'd shared with Aidan for five years.

The moment she opened the door, she remembered all the good times they'd had there.

She'd chosen the couch herself. She and Aidan had cared for the plants together, and their photos still hung on the wall. Each memory now felt like a tiny needle in her heart.

Before she could sink any deeper into her sorrow, an irritatingly sweet voice came from the living room.

"This vase is so tacky. Ugh—get rid of it. I don't even want to look at it."

Gracie froze and snapped her head up.

Ariana was sprawled across the couch in Gracie's silk robe as though she owned the place. She pointed at Gracie's favorite antique vase with open disgust.

The housekeeper watched nervously as Ariana barked orders at the servants. "Ms. Bailey, Ms. Haynes picked every piece herself. If you toss it all, what am I supposed to tell Mr. Clarkson?"

Ariana shot her an impatient look. "Why are you making such a fuss? This junk—tacky, outdated. Aidan gave me free rein over this house. If I hate it, it goes."

"Ariana Bailey, who gave you permission to touch my belongings?" Gracie's voice came from the foyer, cold enough to make the entire room fall silent.

Ariana froze, then spun around—not a trace of guilt on her face, only a smirk. "Oh, back so soon? I figured you'd be camping out at the city hall till dark."

She closed the distance with slow, mocking steps. "Face it, Gracie—you're not in his heart. Never were. And this house—it's only a matter of time before I'm its true mistress."

The provocation immediately hit a sensitive spot, and Gracie's face turned cold.

She sized Ariana up, then shot back, "So proud of being the other woman?"

Ariana showed no anger at all. Instead, an unsettling smile slowly appeared on her lips.

Her eyes then shifted toward the cabinet nearby.

Resting on top was a framed picture of Gracie's deceased mother.

Ariana's eyes glinted. She grabbed the frame, turning it over with theatrical disgust. "So this is the mother who couldn't stick around? Pretty, I'll give her that. Too bad she didn't have the luck to last. Guess you got that from her too—born to be tossed aside."

"Put that back!" Gracie ordered sharply, her eyes widening in alarm.

"Whoops. I didn't hold it properly..." Ariana said with a sly smile before intentionally releasing her grip.

The frame hit the marble with a sickening crack—glass exploding across the floor, shards skittering in every direction.

The old photograph slipped free from the ruined frame, only for a jagged shard to slash across the face shown in the picture.

Gracie went deathly pale. She rushed forward, but the damage had already been done.

The sight of her mother's face torn apart on that cold floor—that was it. Every shred of restraint she'd held onto snapped.

Her hand flew up, and she delivered a forceful slap across Ariana's cheek.

The sharp sound reverberated through the hallway as Ariana stumbled backward and fell heavily onto the floor.

She clutched her stinging cheek—hatred flickering—then her eyes caught the figure in the doorway.

Like a switch flipped—hurt, innocent, trembling—tears welling on cue.

"Gracie... I was just trying to dust it for you... why would you strike me?"

Aidan rushed inside the moment he heard her cry. He pulled her up from the floor before turning toward Gracie with unmistakable anger. "What the hell is wrong with you? I told her to move in!"

He supported Ariana carefully, looking at her with a softness and tenderness he rarely showed anyone else.

Concern filled his voice when he asked, "Are you hurt?"

Ariana immediately leaned into him, taking full advantage of his protection. "Please don't blame Gracie..." she sobbed. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have touched her things. I deserved to be slapped."

She was the very picture of fragile, as though she were the one who had been wronged.

Aidan's expression softened instantly. His usual coldness disappeared, replaced by the gentleness of someone comforting a frightened child. "You didn't do anything wrong."

He turned to Gracie, disappointment dripping from his gaze. "Jealousy—that's your excuse for violence?"

Gracie pointed toward the broken frame, her hand trembling with anger. "Are you blind? She deliberately destroyed my mother's photo!"

Aidan glanced at the shattered frame and immediately looked irritated. "She wouldn't hurt a fly. You must have scared her into dropping it."

His impatience became more obvious as he continued, "Stop making such a scene over a picture frame. Tell me how much it costs. I'll replace it with ten new ones."

Gracie stared at him in silence. For five years, this had been the man she loved. Yet at that moment, he seemed so unfamiliar that she could hardly recognize him.

"That photo was the only thing my mother ever left me. How could money replace it?" Her eyes burned, but she refused to let the tears fall. "Fine. You want to pay for her? Ten million. Wire it. Call it five years' worth of me—settled."

"Ten million?" Ariana's voice rose sharply. "Have you lost your mind? For a worn-out picture?"

Gracie didn't even acknowledge her. She continued staring directly at Aidan. "What is it? Surely ten million isn't too much for you to spend on your beloved woman."

The disdain in her voice immediately angered him. "Fine—ten million, done. But the second it hits your account, you're out of this house. We're done."

"That's exactly what I want!" Gracie agreed without hesitation.

She turned around, returned to her bedroom, gathered her belongings, and walked out of the house without looking back.

Ariana watched her leave before resting against Aidan's chest, pretending to be worried. "Aidan, she really left. You don't think she's serious?"

Aidan gave a dismissive laugh, completely confident in himself. "Relax. She can't survive without me. Three days—tops—she'll crawl back and beg."