"The Edelweiss is your problem now," I told Julian, gripping the phone tighter.

"Aria, wait," Julian pleaded, his voice thin and desperate over the speaker. "You can't just leave me with this mess. The board is threatening a vote of no confidence. Mr. Tanaka is threatening to take his ten-million-dollar contract to a resort in Switzerland."

"I secured that contract," I reminded him. "If Clara has the right vision, she can convince him to stay."

"She doesn't know the cultural protocols!" Julian shouted. "She ordered room service for his delegation and sent them cold sandwiches. You need to come back and fix this."

"I'm standing in the courtyard of the Serenity Alpine Retreat," I said, making sure every syllable landed like a hammer. "I'm the new owner. You're speaking to your direct competitor. Don't call this number again."

I tapped the red icon and ended the call.

At eight the next morning, the Serenity lobby smelled of sawdust and fresh plaster. Roman stood near the grand staircase, unrolling a set of blueprints across a makeshift plywood table. Three interior designers hovered behind him, holding fabric swatches and color palettes.

"We need to completely erase the old aesthetic," I told the lead designer, tossing a piece of dark leather aside. "No more hunting lodge themes. No more cigar lounge vibes."

I picked up a square of ivory silk upholstery and held it up to the morning light. "Use this for the lounge chairs. We're targeting the female luxury market. High-end spa treatments, wellness retreats, and absolute comfort."

The lead designer nodded quickly, jotting down notes. "It'll cost double to import the silk from Italy by next week."

"Pay it," I instructed. "Julian always cut corners on the Edelweiss renovations to fund his personal hobbies. We won't make the same mistake."

Roman smiled faintly, marking a red cross over the old floor plan. "Order the silk. We start the tear-down of the west wing tomorrow. I want this place looking like a palace by the time the snow melts."

By noon, the quiet hum of construction broke. Tires screeched against the asphalt of the main driveway.

A silver Mercedes SUV slammed to a halt right over the yellow warning tape sectioning off the entrance. The driver's door flew open.

Julian stumbled out. He looked nothing like the polished executive from the boardroom. Dark, bruised circles clung beneath his bloodshot eyes. His usually pristine charcoal tie hung crookedly around a wrinkled collar. He had not shaved.

"Aria!" Julian yelled, marching toward the entrance.

He ducked under the remaining warning tape, his expensive leather shoes crunching over gravel and discarded nails. He ignored the hardhat workers staring at him.

"You have no right to be here," I warned, stepping down from the plywood platform.

"You took them!" Julian shouted, stopping three feet away from me. He pointed an accusatory finger at my face, his hand trembling with rage. "My head of marketing. My chief financial officer. Even my executive chef resigned this morning. You poached my core team!"

"I didn't poach anyone," I replied. "They prefer working for a competent leader. I received their resumes in my inbox at dawn."

"It's unethical," he spat, his chest heaving. "You're trying to bankrupt me."

"I gave you the entire Edelweiss fortune," I reminded him. "I signed away millions. If you lose it all in twenty-four hours, that's your own failure."

Julian's face flushed a deep, ugly red. He closed the distance between us, raising his hands. "We were married for seven years, Aria. Seven years of my life given to you. You owe me."

"I owe you nothing."

"You're my wife!" he roared.

He lunged forward, aiming his open hand right at my wrist to drag me away.

I did not even flinch. I just flicked my chin toward the entrance.

Two burly security guards stepped out from behind the scaffolding. The first guard intercepted Julian's arm mid-air, twisting it sharply behind his back. The second guard grabbed Julian by the collar of his custom suit.

"Take your hands off me!" Julian screamed, his voice cracking.

The guards shoved him forward. They slammed Julian face-first into the lobby wall.

Thick, wet emerald paint coated the plaster. The impact drove Julian's chest into the fresh coat. The pristine gray wool of his haute couture jacket absorbed the bright green pigment instantly.

"Hold him," I instructed.

Julian thrashed wildly, kicking his legs backward. "Aria, tell these thugs to release me! I'm the CEO of the Edelweiss!"

The guards pressed their forearms harder against his shoulders, pinning him flat. The wet paint squelched, soaking deeper into the expensive fabric of his lapels. The custom stitching tore slightly under the pressure.

Julian gritted his teeth and shoved his weight off the wall, trying to break the hold a second time. "I'll sue you for assault! I'll ruin this place! I'll make sure you never work in this valley again!"

The larger guard leaned his body weight forward. A loud smack echoed through the lobby as Julian's cheek hit the wet plaster again. His second attempt to escape died in a pathetic groan. Green paint smeared across his jawline, coating his cheek and ear.

"You ruined your own life, Julian," I said, walking closer to examine the damage to his suit. "You threw away a loyal wife for a girl who cries when the power goes out. You handed a five-star hotel to someone who can't even read a profit and loss statement."

"She's learning," Julian hissed against the wall, though his voice lacked conviction.

"Then let her learn," I countered. "But keep her off my property. And keep yourself away from me."

A squeal of brakes interrupted us.

A bright red Porsche Cayenne skidded into the driveway, parking haphazardly behind Julian's Mercedes. The driver's side door flew open, slamming against the side mirror of the SUV.

Clara jumped out. She wore a tight designer tracksuit, her hair a messy tangle around her face. She took one look at Julian pinned against the wet wall and let out a piercing shriek.

"Julian!" Clara screamed, sprinting up the gravel path.

She stopped at the edge of the warning tape, her eyes darting from the burly guards to the ruined gray suit, and finally landing on me. Her face twisted into a mask of pure rage.

"You vindictive bitch!" Clara yelled, pointing a manicured finger at my chest. "You planned this! You stole our staff and now you're attacking my fiancé!"

She picked up a chunk of discarded brick from the rubble pile and raised it above her head, taking a step toward me.

A tall figure stepped out from the shadows of the unfinished corridor.

Roman walked into the sunlight, holding two steaming cups of coffee, and stepped right in front of me, his broad shoulders blocking Clara's path.