Sol Kelly's lips twisted into a sardonic smile, her face giving nothing away. “Do you actually think I'm joking?”

“The invitations are out, and the wedding is next week. You're really gonna break up with me over something this small?” Zamir Peterson's expression was taut, barely containing his frustration. To him, Sol's refusal was just a tactic—a lover's bluff, a strategic retreat to push him into chasing her. They'd been together three years. No way she'd actually leave now.

Sol let out a dry laugh. “Breaking up means you get a free pass to fool around with Carly. No ‘old woman’ like me weighing you down—you can chase all the younger, hotter women you want.”

She'd heard the whispers at the club.

So she was still pissed.

“You're the one who won't let me touch you. Ask anyone—what couple goes three years without sex? Sol, I'm a normal man, not some celibate monk.”

The implication was clear: she was the problem. Not even a real woman.

Three years ago, she'd barely escaped an assault. It left her terrified of men getting too close. It took six months into their relationship before she could hold hands, hug, or kiss Zamir without her body locking up. But whenever things went further, she'd flash back to that dark alley—to those vile hands grabbing her.

For years, she'd quietly gone to therapy. She'd made so much progress. She'd planned to give herself to him on their wedding night and finally tell him the truth. Now? It felt pointless.

Sol's eyes glittered with hurt. “So you turned the worst thing that ever happened to me into gossip for Carly?”

Panic flashed across Zamir's face. He scrambled for an excuse. “I was drunk that night. I was just venting... I didn't mean for it to slip.”

He did have feelings for her—at least he told himself he did—but over time, he'd grown tired. Every time things got heated, her trauma got in the way. With no outlet for his frustration, Carly appeared: young, lively, looking at him like he was everything, deliberately tempting him. He didn't resist. He cheated. Afterward, guilt and shame ate at him, but the affair kept pulling him back. He couldn't break free.

“Blaming everyone but yourself for not being able to control yourself—that's a real convenient excuse for cheating,” Sol said coldly. “If you'd had the guts to break up with me to my face, I might've at least respected you as a man.”

Zamir's frustration boiled over. “Sol, I've supported you all these years. The company is mine. I built it. Are you really gonna walk away with half my assets because we're breaking up? Isn't that greedy?”

Sol's gaze didn't waver. “I'm just claiming what's mine.”

Without her behind-the-scenes work, did he really think he could've risen so fast? Did he actually see himself as some business genius? Some golden boy?

“What do you mean, ‘what's mine’? Those shares were meant for Mrs. Peterson.”

In other words, if she refused to be his wife, everything he'd given her would be forfeited. Sol had weathered every hardship with him, and now she was supposed to swallow her pride and accept his betrayal?

When she didn't answer, Zamir grew bolder. “Sol, I can live without being intimate with you, but you need to accept Carly being in the picture. Isn't all of us living happily together better than anything else?”

For all his good looks, his delusional logic was almost laughable.

“Zamir, you disgust me! How could I ever have loved someone so shameless?”

The contempt in her glare cut through him like a blade. Zamir's temper snapped. He grabbed her chin. “Don't look at me like that. You're no angel yourself. The fact that I'm still willing to spoil you and marry you means you should be grateful.”

“Got a taste of the high life and suddenly forgot where you came from?”

The air between them turned suffocating. Sol struggled against his grip, her elegant face flushing red as she fought for air, her eyes locked on his with icy contempt.

Realizing what he'd done, Zamir let go and stepped back. “Sol, I didn't mean it. You provoked me with your words...”

Even now, he was shifting the blame onto her.

He never failed to disappoint.

Sol staggered back, catching herself on the desk, gasping for air.

“I love you too much. I can't stand the thought of losing you...”

Regret flickered across his face as he reached for her, but Sol recoiled like a cornered cat.

“Stay away from me!”

Zamir froze.

“From this moment on, we're done. We're nothing to each other. What's mine stays mine. And if you try anything, I'll expose your little affair with Carly.”

After she left, Sol made a call.

“Cut all support for Windward Tech.”

Then she contacted a real estate agent and dropped the price of the house for a quick sale.

By that afternoon, someone had toured the place and signed the contract.

Sol packed up her things, shipped them to her family home in New York, and tossed all of Zamir's stuff into the trash.

She didn't feel a single pang of nostalgia as she drove away.

That night, she checked into a five-star hotel in Manchester.

Later, Zamir came home to a dark house. His usually soft features hardened into a frown.

Before, no matter how late it was, Sol would always come out to greet him the second she heard his car.

Now, the lock code had been changed.

His gaze landed on the overflowing trash can outside, and his expression soured.

He immediately called Sol. “You threw out my stuff. What does that mean?”

Sol stood by the hotel's floor-to-ceiling window, sipping her coffee, taking in the neon-lit cityscape. She felt liberated. Free.

“Trash belongs in the bin.”

She ended the call and blocked his number.

She was done with Zamir's betrayal, but memories of the past three years still left her hollow. She could already picture her father mocking her setbacks the moment she returned.

A tipsy haze settled over her. She powered down her phone and drifted into a deep sleep.

...

At a bar, Zamir sat alone, knocking back one strong drink after another, his expression unreadable. Even the blaring music couldn't cut through the chaos in his head.

His friends hovered nearby, too nervous to approach him, so they called Carly to calm him down.

Carly hurried over, slid up beside him, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Zamir, Sol's just acting out. Once she's out there struggling, she'll realize how good she had it with you.”

Zamir finished another shot, his demeanor frosty. “You're right. I'll wait for her to fail and come crawling back.”

He dialed a number and gave orders.

“Cancel my secondary card and empty Sol Kelly's bank accounts.”

No money, no options. Let's see how long that pride of hers lasts.

Then he looked at Carly, gripped her chin, and kissed her fiercely.

Carly whimpered softly, melting against him, matching his hunger.

“Zamir, I adore you...”

For two days, Sol Kelly holed up in her hotel room, never once stepping outside. All she did was work the phones, chasing down any potential buyer for her shares of Windward Tech. On the third day, the front desk called up: her bill was due. That was when she noticed her account had gone bone-dry—Zamir Peterson had cut her off from their joint bank account.

Pissed, Sol unblocked Zamir's number and called him.

“Zamir, what gives you the right to mess with my money?”

She didn't even have to guess. She'd used his computer once to log into online banking—and hadn't bothered to hide it.

“Sol, every cent you have comes from me. You want to break up? Fine. But you're not walking away with a dime of what's mine.”

A disbelieving laugh slipped out. “Zamir, you're not half as powerful as you think you are.”

She hung up and blocked him again. On the other end, Zamir's face went dark with fury. His grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles turned white. His assistant edged into the room like he already regretted it.

“Mr. Peterson... Ms. Kelly sold the house two days ago. Thirty thousand under market value.”

Zamir's head snapped up. “That's impossible. Are you sure?”

The assistant nodded, barely breathing. “No mistake, sir. She's been staying at the Marriott.”

Zamir snatched up his car keys and stormed out, panic clawing through him in a way he wasn't used to. She'd sold their home. That meant she was serious. This wasn't some game of cat and mouse. She was done.

Down in the hotel lobby, Sol fixed her gaze on the man sitting across from her. “If you can't find a buyer, try Eagle Corporation. I'm sure they'd love a piece of Windward.”

“But Ms. Kelly, Eagle is Windward's biggest rival. If they get those shares, Zamir's in for hell.”

Sol smiled, calm as still water. “And why should that matter to me?”

Something in her expression told him not to push. He slid a card across the table. “The password is your birthday.”

With that card, she paid for four more nights at the hotel. On her way back to her room, the door to the neighboring suite swung open, and a tall man stepped out. Broad-shouldered, athletic, with dark eyes that held a cool, unreadable distance. Sol glanced at him on instinct. He gave her a polite nod. She returned it as they passed.

Not long after, a knock sounded at her door. She opened it—and found herself staring straight into Zamir's familiar face. Her expression iced over instantly.

“Mr. Peterson. What brings you here?”

He hated the formal address, especially with that cold, distant look on her face.

“Sol, why didn't you talk to me before selling our house?”

A hint of sarcasm curled her lips. “The house is in my name. Selling it was my call. And if you're looking for an answer, here it is: I don't want you, and I don't want the house.”

Zamir's throat went dry. “You're really willing to throw away three years?”

“You threw it away first.”

The calm in her voice gutted him. A desperate, sinking loss opened up inside his chest. For the first time, he was afraid he couldn't fix this.

“She means nothing to me. I love you. I always have. Once we're married, I'll cut her off. She won't be a problem.”

Sol's voice went ice-cold. “I don't recycle trash.”

Rage twisted Zamir's face. He grabbed her wrist, slammed her back against the wall, and crushed his mouth to hers. Sol went pale. She shoved at him, but he was stronger—too strong—and he held her there.

He tugged at her collar, his breath hot against her skin. “Sol, I know I was wrong. Forgive me. Let's just—”

Her fury turned to terror. She fought him with everything she had. “Get off me! Don't touch me!”

“Help! Help—” His hand clamped over her mouth, muffling the scream.

“Sweetheart, shh. I'm sorry. Don't yell. Please. I'll be gentle,” he whispered, as if force could ever be mistaken for love.

Panic swallowed her whole. The door began to swing shut, and fear sliced through Sol.

At the last second, a hand caught the door before it could close.

Adrian Lopez stepped in, pulled Sol out of Zamir's grip, and sent him sprawling to the floor. He glanced at the trembling woman, his voice low. “Are you okay?”

Sol nodded, still shaking. It was the man from earlier—the one who'd nodded to her in the hall. Fear had blinded her to everything else, including how exposed she was.

Adrian's dark eyes swept over her rumpled clothes, her torn collar. Without a word, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. “Cover up.”

Heat rushed to Sol's face. She looked down, realized what she must look like, and quickly pulled the jacket tight around herself.

“Who the hell are you? This is between my wife and me. Stay out of it,” Zamir spat, scrambling to his feet, fury burning in his eyes.

Adrian didn't flinch. His voice dripped with contempt. “Your husband?”

Sol shook her head hard. “No. We're broken up. He was trying to force me.”

Adrian's expression turned to stone. He fixed Zamir with a stare cold enough to freeze fire. “So, an ex-boyfriend. Pathetic. Forcing yourself on a woman—what a disgrace. You waiting for the cops, or should I call them myself?”

Zamir burned with rage, but something about Adrian—the authority, the money, the danger—warned him not to push.

“Sol, please. Calm down. I'll come by again tomorrow.”

She watched Zamir retreat, then let out a shaky breath. Her nerves finally began to unwind.

“Thank you. Can I take you to dinner tomorrow?”

She needed to thank him somehow. His timing had been everything.

“Adrian Lopez.”

The name tugged at a memory she couldn't quite catch. Before she could grasp it, Adrian had already turned to leave. His parting shot drifted back over his shoulder.

“You sure have lousy taste in men.”

Sol was left speechless.

After leaving the hotel, Zamir Peterson got a call from Carly Perkins.

“Zamir, we have a problem. I heard Sol Kelly is planning to sell her shares in Windward Tech.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Zamir’s voice went ice-cold.

“It’s true. I’ve already reassured everyone that it’s just a misunderstanding between you two and that the rumors about her selling are completely baseless... But if Sol is set on selling, there will be buyers.”

The company had just gone public and was making serious waves in Manchester’s business scene, drawing plenty of attention.

Zamir, jaw tight, turned back to confront Sol.

“Sol Kelly, what gives you the right to sell your shares in Windward Tech? Get out here and talk to me!”

Sol had just taken a deep breath when the pounding started—and Zamir’s voice, furious and barely controlled, cut through the door. She wasn’t stupid enough to open it and let him in. Ever since she’d found out about his infidelity and betrayal, their relationship was done. There was nothing left to say.

She called the hotel front desk. “Hello, I need someone up here immediately to remove the man harassing me outside my door. Otherwise, I’ll have serious questions about this hotel’s security.”

Soon, she heard Zamir arguing with someone—then the sound of him being hauled away.

Her phone rang again. Unknown number. The second she answered, Zamir’s cold, angry voice filled her ear.

“Sol Kelly, without my consent, no one will dare touch the shares of Windward Tech.”

His past successes had made him arrogant, overconfident.

At his boast, Sol let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Zamir, I hope you can hold on to that confidence.”

She had no interest in talking further. She hung up and blocked the number.

Sol logged into her online banking, changed every card password, and made a call. “Contact Eagle Corporation. Tell them I’m willing to sell my Windward Tech shares at a ten-percent discount.”

With only two days left, she wanted this handled fast—and she wanted to avoid dragging out any conflict with Zamir.

Meanwhile, Zamir spent the night spreading threats through business circles: anyone who dared acquire Sol Kelly’s shares in Windward Tech would be making an enemy of him, and he promised to make sure they’d regret doing business in Manchester.

No one wanted to risk offending a rising star in the business world.

...

“Mr. Lopez, we’ve been approached about acquiring a fifty-percent stake in Windward Tech at a ten-percent discount. What’s your take?”

The head of Eagle Corporation asked cautiously. Mr. Lopez had never shown much interest in Windward Tech before. Then, for reasons no one understood, he’d changed his tune.

Adrian Lopez lounged on the sofa, shirt collar unbuttoned, and took a sip of coffee. The heat of it eased the tension in his brow, just a little.

“An opportunity like that doesn’t come around every day. Buy it at the discounted price.”

“Understood. I’ll let them know right away.”

After he hung up, a knock came at the door. Adrian rose to answer it.

When he saw the woman outside, he raised an eyebrow, eyes narrowing slightly. “What’s going on?”

She had changed into a cream-colored Victorian-style dress, delicate pearl buttons at the neckline. The fabric draped elegantly, casting a soft glow over her features.

“Thank you for your help earlier. If you don’t mind, may I treat you to dinner?”

She hated owing anyone.

Adrian slid one hand casually into his trouser pocket, standing tall and indifferent. “Ms. Kelly, are you always this forward?”

“Of course not. It depends on the person.”

She wasn’t the type to let just anyone close. But when gratitude was due, she paid it.

The answer seemed to amuse him. Adrian accepted.

In the hotel restaurant, Sol handed him the menu.

“Ladies first.”

A gentlemanly move.

She chose a few light dishes at random, and Adrian added some of the restaurant’s specialties.

Then something occurred to her, and she looked at him, puzzled.

“Mr. Lopez, do you know me?”

How else would he know her last name was Kelly? She didn’t remember telling him.

Adrian dodged the question, a faint smile on his lips. “I do now.”

She didn’t push. They were just passing acquaintances. Once she left Manchester, they might never cross paths again.

“Thank you for today. I’ll have your clothes cleaned tonight and returned to you tomorrow.”

Adrian smiled lightly and said nothing.

In the car parked by the roadside, Zamir still hadn’t left. After ending his call, he glanced up—and saw a man and a woman by the restaurant window. The man was the same one who’d interfered earlier. The woman was Sol.

The light fell over them, framing a handsome man and a beautiful woman in pleasant conversation. They looked effortless together. In harmony.

Zamir’s face darkened instantly, his eyes stormy with jealousy he refused to name.

How did Sol even know him? Had she been seeing this man in secret all along? Was staying at this hotel really just a coincidence?

Using his money to dine with another man.

Bravo, Sol Kelly.

Adrian sensed someone watching. He turned, his sharp gaze locking onto Zamir’s furious stare from inside the car.

With calm indifference, Adrian looked away.

“Don’t move.”

Sol froze, lifting her eyes to his.

“What’s wrong?”

Adrian leaned in and brushed his thumb across her lips.

“A little sauce.”

He pulled out a napkin and wiped his fingertips with practiced grace.

Sol blinked, her cheeks warming with embarrassment. “Thank you.”

It felt awkward. Who did that? They’d just met, and he was already this forward...

Or maybe he was just smooth—the kind of man who treated every woman with that same easy charm?

“I’m not usually this attentive with others. If I overstepped, I apologize.”

“...”

Sol felt awkward. She shouldn’t have assumed the worst about a man who’d helped her.

“Your ex-boyfriend seems persistent. Be careful.”

Adrian gestured toward the window.

Sol turned her head, spotted the figure by the car, and frowned instinctively.

He still hadn’t left. But he wasn’t her problem anymore.

“Ignore him.”

Just an arrogant fool.

“Just broke up?”

“Yeah.”

She didn’t like discussing her personal life—especially this rare lapse in judgment. It was embarrassing.

“He seems deeply attached. Unwilling to let go.”

Sol laughed bitterly. Very much so. So attached that he’d had an affair for two years without her knowing. If Carly hadn’t grown impatient and exposed them, Sol might still be in the dark, patting herself on the back for finding true love. What a joke.

Of course, she didn’t believe Zamir stayed because he couldn’t let go. He knew she was selling half her shares in Windward Tech—it struck at his core interests, and he wanted to stop her.

Zamir hadn’t expected Sol to ignore him and keep dining happily with another man. The loss of control infuriated him.

He was just about to get out and confront her when his phone rang.

“Zamir, I’m pregnant.”