"John, you know how she thinks. Don't fall for her tricks."

"She's an orphan with no parents, no family. Without the Gilberts propping her up, the Chambers estate would've gone bankrupt years ago. She's only ever been after your money."

John nodded in agreement, and when his gaze swung back to me, it was filled with fresh contempt.

"Ivy Chambers. You walk around playing the Oracle, all purity and restraint, and for what? To build yourself some holier-than-thou image?"

"Thank God Celeste is smart enough to see right through you."

"Since you're so eager to break off this engagement, take off the clothes I bought you and get out of my house. We're done. Permanently."

I stood rooted to the spot, utterly still. The only thing I felt was how absurd it all was.

When I made no move to undress, John's expression darkened. He flicked his hand toward the servants.

"Do it. Strip her."

They swarmed me, tearing at my clothes with rough, careless hands.

Within moments I was left standing in nothing but my underwear. They'd even ripped off my socks.

Every servant in the room looked at me with open disdain, their whispers barbed and mocking. A few of the male servants let their eyes crawl over my body, leering without shame.

"Calls herself the Oracle every day. Claims she can see the future. Too bad she didn't see this coming—Mr. Gilbert cutting her loose."

"Well, obviously. Now that he's got someone like Miss Pruitt—gorgeous, classy—who'd want some plain little nun?"

At a single command from Celeste, several servants seized me by the arms and shoved me toward the door, pushing and dragging until I was thrown out of the villa entirely.

A swarm of reporters materialized from nowhere. Camera flashes exploded in my face, one after another, blinding and relentless.

"Miss Chambers, we heard you initiated the breakup yourself. Is this a strategic retreat? Are you trying to force Mr. Gilbert's hand?"

"Miss Chambers, appearing like this in front of the cameras—are you hoping to win his sympathy and save the marriage?"

They closed in around me, shouting questions without pause.

The ground beneath my bare feet was covered in jagged gravel. Every stumbling step sent sharp pain shooting through my soles.

A microphone jabbed into my mouth. I staggered backward, lost my balance, and crashed to the ground. Something sharp pierced into my skin on impact, and a violent shudder ripped through my entire body.

Only when I looked down did I see the faint glitter scattered across the gravel path. Someone had deliberately crushed glass and spread it over the stones.

I pressed my palms flat against the ground and forced myself upright. Blood dotted my arms, my legs, my torso—small bright stains blooming everywhere.

All of it. Every last detail. Celeste had orchestrated this.

The reporters jostled against me. The humiliation of being nearly naked, the glass biting into my feet—every nerve in my body screamed.

Just as I was about to shatter, a black Rolls-Royce tore through the night like a blade of wind and stopped dead in front of me.

Morton stepped out in long, furious strides. His voice cracked across the silent darkness like a whip.

"You have some nerve. Who gave you permission to treat my wife this way?"

His eyes were pure ice. The reporters scrambled backward instantly, shrinking into themselves, tripping over their own feet.

"Mr. Gilbert, this is a misunderstanding—a total misunderstanding. We just happened to see Miss Chambers out here, and she was already—"

"Mr. Gilbert, we're so sorry. We'll leave right now. We won't bother you."

Morton ripped his suit jacket off and draped it over my shoulders, then pulled me tight against his chest.

John must have heard the commotion, because he came striding out of the villa. The moment he saw Morton holding me, his face twisted.

"Uncle Morton! Ivy is my fiancée. What the hell do you think you're doing?"

I drew a long, steadying breath. Let the chaos inside me go quiet. Then I straightened my spine, wrapped my arm around Morton's waist, and stood tall.

My voice came out cold enough to freeze.

"John. Unless your memory is as broken as your judgment, you should remember—I already ended our engagement. My fiancé now is your uncle."

I enunciated each syllable, letting the name land like a blade. "Morton Gilbert."

John froze. Anger flashed across his face, but three seconds later he burst out laughing.

"Ivy, you actually dragged my uncle into this little performance just to get under my skin? You really went all out."

His expression shifted, twisting into a sneer.

"The line of women dying to marry my uncle stretches from the Capital all the way to the States. Everyone knows he has zero interest in women. Business is the only thing that gets his blood pumping. What makes you think he'd ever look twice at someone like you? A woman with no charm, no appeal, nothing but cheap tricks?"

The words had barely left his mouth when Morton reached out, pulled me firmly into his arms, and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead.

"Who said my eyes are only on business? That I have no interest in women?"

His voice dropped, low and absolute.

"My eyes have only ever been on Ivy. From the moment she was ten years old and came running toward me through the snow, I knew. She would be the only woman in my life."

He turned his gaze on John, and his tone went cold.

"John, if it weren't for the fact that I'm ten years older than her, do you really think you'd have had a chance at this marriage alliance? So let me thank you now, for handing her over to me."

Dead silence.

The reporters who'd been about to leave suddenly had fire in their eyes. Camera flashes erupted in a frenzy, every lens aimed squarely at John.

John's face drained of color. His hand shook as he pointed at me.

"You... you..."

Morton's gaze dropped to that trembling finger.

"John. Ivy is now your aunt by marriage. If you continue to disrespect your elders, I'll make sure you lose that finger."

John flinched and yanked his hand back, but his eyes stayed locked on the arm Morton had wrapped around my waist.

As if staking his claim, Morton tightened his hold on me. Then his voice turned low and dangerous.

"Hal Barnes, find out who deliberately scattered broken glass to injure my wife. Immediately."

His gaze slid past John to Celeste, who stood half-hidden behind him.

"When you find them, I don't care what it takes. Make them pay. My wife deserves that much."

Celeste visibly shuddered and shrank behind a pillar, ducking out of sight.

Morton let out a cold scoff, swept me up into his arms, and strode away.

Back at the villa, he knelt beside me, carefully tending to my wounds with a tenderness that didn't match the ruthlessness he'd just displayed.

Meanwhile, I pulled out my phone and sent a message to Old Mr. Gilbert overseas. Along with it, I attached the full, unedited video of my humiliation, including a clear shot of Celeste's swollen pregnant belly.

Grandfather, I've called off the engagement with John. I won't be the Gilbert family's young wife anymore. But I'll still honor my promise to protect the family's peace. I only have one condition: the marriage alliance transfers to Morton.

Old Mr. Gilbert called me back immediately. His voice trembled with rage.

After a long tirade cursing John's name, he finally let out a heavy sigh. "Ivy, the truth is, I've known about Morton's feelings for you for a long time. He even came to me and asked for my blessing."

He paused. "But he's ten years older than you, and he carries the stigma of being born out of wedlock. Would you feel you're settling?"

I glanced over at Morton, who sat beside me with his ears practically perked, tension written across every line of his body. I spoke clearly and deliberately.

"Grandfather, age and status are secondary. Character and sincerity are what matter. I trust Morton."

Three seconds of silence on the other end. Then Old Mr. Gilbert broke into a hearty laugh.

"Ivy, this old man has been a fool. You're absolutely right. Knowing Morton's heart is true, I can rest easy. I'm booking a flight home right now. I'll officiate the engagement myself."

"Good. Three days from now, Morton and I will be engaged. You'll preside over the ceremony."

I hung up. Beside me, a quiet, deeply satisfied smile spread across Morton's face.

Not far away, back at the Gilbert estate, Celeste was still putting on a show of comforting John, her voice dripping with false sympathy. What she didn't realize was that the dark mark between her brows had grown so dense it was nearly opaque.

I looked down at the prayer bead still resting in my palm. It was growing hot, almost burning. The corner of my lips curved into a cold, knowing smile.

"John Gilbert, you'll be getting quite the gift at the engagement banquet in three days."

Once the date was set, Morton threw himself into the preparations, handling every detail personally.

Even the tiara I would wear to the engagement, he flew to the States himself to bid on the crown a queen had worn on her eighteenth birthday.

I told him not to make such a spectacle of it. But he took my hand, let out a long, contented sigh, and said, "Ivy, this is the only way it feels real to me. The only way I know I'm not dreaming."

"You don't know what it was like. On the day of your engagement, I was overseas, standing on the highest rooftop I could find, staring in the direction of the Capital. I didn't dare come back. I didn't dare face you. I was terrified I wouldn't be able to control how badly I wanted you, and I'd end up hurting you."

Something surged inside my chest. For the first time, my heart truly stirred.

All this time, someone had loved me this deeply. And fate had been kind enough not to let me miss him.

John finally sensed the danger. He started coming to see me behind Morton's back.

"Ivy, how could you gamble away your happiness just to spite me?"

"You and my uncle aren't a match. He's an illegitimate son with a dark, vicious streak. Behind his back, everyone calls him the Grim Reaper. You really want to marry a man like that? You think that's going to make you happy?"

I slapped his reaching hand away and spoke without a shred of warmth.

"John, no matter how dark and vicious your uncle is, he'd never let his mistress strip me naked in front of a crowd."

"Marrying him beats marrying a backstabbing piece of trash any day. He's a real man."

The slap didn't anger John. If anything, it made him grin. He leaned in with that infuriating, shameless smile of his.

"So that's what this is about. You're jealous. I knew you couldn't let me go."

He paused, seemed to actually think for a moment, then spoke as if presenting a perfectly reasonable offer.

"How about this. Once Celeste has the baby, I'll marry you right away. She can stay at the villa out in the suburbs."

"And since you'd have the title of Mrs. Gilbert, you'd just have to tolerate sharing with Celeste. I'll spend Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays with her, and Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays, and Sundays with you. That's one more day than she gets. Satisfied?"

I stared at the smug look plastered across his face and couldn't help but laugh out of sheer fury.

Who gave him the audacity? What made him think that I, the Oracle of our sect, the sole heir to the Chambers legacy, would cling to a rotten excuse for a man like him, desperate to be married off?

Just as his hand reached for me again, a foot came flying out of nowhere and slammed into his side, sending him skidding three yards across the floor.

Morton's voice cut through the air, cold enough to freeze blood.

"John. Did you forget what I told you? You dare disrespect your aunt?"

In one fluid motion, he closed the distance. His heavy leather shoe came down on John's hand and ground into it. John let out a scream like a pig being slaughtered.

"Morton, you bastard! You dare lay a hand on me? Just wait until Grandfather gets back. He won't let this slide!"

Morton's gaze shifted. Something lethal flickered behind his eyes. He crouched down and patted John's cheek, almost gently. Every line of his face promised violence.

"Good. I'll give you three days to run to Daddy."

"And if you pull this again, I'll make you regret today's stupidity for the rest of your life."

Three days passed in a blink.

The engagement banquet had been arranged on short notice, but Morton's influence turned it into the event of the season, sending shockwaves through the entire Capital.

Every person of note in the city was in attendance.

I wore a couture gown, my arm linked through Morton's, as we walked toward Old Mr. Gilbert, seated in the place of honor.

The moment he saw me, the old man's eyebrows shot up, his smile so wide it carved deep lines across his face.

The master of ceremonies had just announced the start of the ceremony when John burst through the doors, his face twisted with rage, dragging Celeste behind him.

Celeste was weeping beautifully, tears rolling down her cheeks like rain on white petals.

"Miss Chambers, I've already given up fighting you for his hand. All I asked was to have my baby before marrying John. Why did you have to send people to kidnap me?"

As she spoke, Celeste turned to show the bruises mottling her face and the dark marks ringing her wrists.

John erupted. He charged straight at me, his hand cracking across my cheek before I could react.

"Ivy Chambers, how can you be so vicious?"

"You couldn't stand being dumped, so you seduced my uncle to get back at me. Then you had someone kidnap Celeste—you wanted to kill her and my child!"

"Let me make this clear: Celeste's baby will be the sole heir to the Gilbert family. You can marry my uncle all you want, but don't you dare set your sights on a single cent of what's ours."

Morton's eyes went bloodshot with fury. For once, John held his ground and refused to back down.

"Uncle Morton, Ivy is a woman I threw away. What gives you the right to marry her? Celeste is carrying my child, and you'd still protect some fortune-telling fraud? Do you want the Gilbert line to end?"

I caught Morton's arm before he could swing. Then I walked slowly toward John, letting my gaze drift past him to settle on Celeste. My voice was ice.

"John, are you certain the child in Celeste's belly is yours?"

"Instead of throwing a tantrum here, why don't you take your little mistress to a hospital? Find out whose baby she's actually carrying."