Everyone said I was the luckiest woman alive, marrying into the Farley family—a dynasty that had stood for a century.

But on my wedding night, I ripped off my veil, walked straight into a nightclub, and ordered myself a pretty boy.

The next morning, I stood in front of everyone and announced I wanted a divorce.

Sylvester Farley, left alone all night, stood in the crowd. His face was murderous.

I just smiled. Bright and wide.

Because in my last life, I'd handed this man the crown jewels of my family's empire with both hands.

He'd promised me forever at the altar, then turned around and installed his little sweetheart in the company the very next day.

I fought for him tooth and nail in the boardroom. He walked out on an entire shareholder meeting just to pick her up from work.

The pathetic part? I actually believed it was just brotherly affection. I played the good sister-in-law like a fool, treating his precious girl like my own family.

Until Sylvester Farley tore Henson Corp apart from the inside out.

I ended up lying in a pool of my own blood, clutching the hem of his jacket with everything I had left.

"Was there even one second—one single second—where you actually loved me?"

He lowered his head and said nothing.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on my wedding night.

——

I died without ever getting an answer.

I swallowed the rage churning inside me and pinned a polished smile back on my face.

Making a scene now would be slapping both the Farley and Henson families across the face in public. The fallout would snowball into something unmanageable.

The reception finally ended.

Back at the bridal suite, I rested my hand on the door handle, about to push it open.

The light inside clicked off.

Exactly like last time.

I'd thought he was just tired and had gone to bed early. I'd even felt sorry for him, worried he'd been overworked.

He'd turned off the light on purpose. The message was simple: Don't come in.

I was stubborn back then. I pushed the door open anyway.

A single glass of water sat in the exact center of the bed.

Sylvester Farley wore a navy silk robe. He sat on the far side of the mattress, poised and elegant, like royalty holding court.

"Rose Henson. We both know what this marriage is."

"This is the line. Cross it, and I walk."

At the time, I actually admired him for it. Thought he was principled. A man of standards.

I told myself to be patient. Give it time. Feelings would grow.

That glass of water stayed on the bed for three years.

The rumors outside were relentless. People said Sylvester either had something wrong with him physically or simply didn't like women, and that he'd only married me to satisfy the family alliance.

He never denied any of it. Denying the rumors would only turn the spotlight on himself and anger Matriarch Farley.

And during that time, he did seem to thaw. A little.

He'd join me for breakfast occasionally. He'd send coffee to my office when I worked late. He even backed my proposals in board meetings.

I thought life would just continue like that.

Then the news came that Lucy Stephens was returning from overseas.

That day, I'd allowed myself a rare moment of peace. I sat in the piano room at home and played a Chopin nocturne.

He actually came in. Leaned against the doorframe and listened without a word.

When I finished, he walked over and said softly, "That was beautiful."

I looked up at him. For once, there was warmth in his eyes.

I leaned closer. He didn't pull away.

I kissed him. He didn't refuse.

In that moment, I believed everything was finally moving in the right direction.

Then his secretary burst through the door, breathless.

"Mr. Farley, Miss Stephens's plane just landed!"

Sylvester shoved me away.

Every trace of warmth vanished from his eyes. Gone, like it had never existed.

He didn't even stop to put on shoes. He ran out barefoot.

I stood in front of the piano like a discarded toy.

Take it slow. What a joke.

From start to finish, the only person in his heart was Lucy Stephens.

If he was so in love with Lucy, why had he agreed to the marriage in the first place?

When Matriarch Farley proposed the alliance, I hadn't accepted right away. I'd asked my grandmother to send someone to get Sylvester's answer.

The messenger came back with a simple response: "Mr. Farley has agreed."

It wasn't until later that I learned the truth. The day he nodded yes was the same day the news broke that Lucy had died in a car accident in Continental Heights.

But Lucy hadn't died.

She'd defected to the Henson family's competitors. Then she and Sylvester worked together, one from the inside and one from the outside, and dismantled Henson Corp piece by piece.

The shock gave my grandmother a stroke. But Sylvester didn't come out unscathed either.

Lucy, eager to prove her loyalty to her new backers, personally orchestrated my death.

Before I died, all I'd wanted was one honest word from him. Just one.

As for now, I stared at the closed door in front of me.

And suddenly, none of it mattered anymore.

Sylvester Farley was the prettiest blade in Matriarch Farley's arsenal. Good breeding, stunning looks, formidable ability.

But that blade had never been drawn for me.

I smiled faintly, turned around, and walked away.

Better to go drink. Find some real fun. At least the smiles on those people's faces were genuine in their desire to please me.

What I didn't see was that shortly after I left, the light behind that door flickered back on.

Sylvester sat alone by the floor-to-ceiling windows.

He stared out at the Graystone skyline and didn't move until dawn.

In the morning, the housekeeper pushed the door open to tidy the room and found him in the exact same position as the night before. The man nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Mr. Farley? You haven't slept all night?"

Sylvester looked terrible. Dark circles carved deep bruises beneath his eyes.

His voice came out raw and wrecked: "Where did she go last night?"

News of me walking out on my wedding night spread through our circles before the sun came up.

"No way. She doesn't even want Sylvester Farley? Is Rose Henson out of her mind?"

"Who knows? I heard she threw money around at The Blue Note Club all night just to boost some new pretty boy's sales numbers."

"That's not even the half of it. She camped out in a VIP room until three in the morning and came out draped over a bunch of guys. Laughing like she'd just buried her husband."

"Rose Henson's life is literally my dream."

What other people said was none of my concern.

All I wanted this time around was to live however the hell I pleased.

My assistant Brett Dickerson tracked me down with a pained expression.

"Ma'am, shouldn't we head back? Mr. Farley's office has called multiple times already!"

"Head back for what?"

I cut him off, leaning against the bar and swirling my glass.

"Go book me the penthouse suite."

"A-another booking?" Brett looked like he was about to cry.

"Yep. I'm throwing a party tonight."

I shooed Brett away, then turned and dove back into the club's dance floor.

The music was deafening. The alcohol made everything numb. Perfect.

I kept this up for three days before something clicked.

I needed a divorce.

Dragging it out was pointless. Better to cut things off while Lucy was still overseas, before I got tangled up in all that ugliness again.

I drove straight to Matriarch Farley's lakeside estate.

The car rolled down a long, tree-lined drive and stopped at the front entrance of the main house.

The housekeeper spotted me and dipped his head respectfully. "Miss Henson, the Matriarch is in the conservatory."

I walked into the greenhouse. Bertha Farley stood among her prized blue roses, pruning shears in hand, tending to them with the care of a woman who controlled everything she touched.

She looked up when she saw me, a warm smile settling across her face. "Rose, dear. Sylvester didn't come with you?"

I wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. "Matriarch Farley, I want a divorce from Sylvester."

Snip.

A single rose tumbled to the floor.

The conservatory went deathly quiet.

Matriarch Farley slowly set down her pruning shears and turned to face me, a flicker of puzzlement crossing her features.

"Why? What has Sylvester done wrong?"

"Nothing."

I told her the truth.

"It just doesn't feel right. Rather than torturing each other, it's better to end things early."

Matriarch Farley studied me for a long time. Something moved behind her eyes that I couldn't read.

"You're certain you've thought this through?" she said at last.

"I have."

"Very well. Since you've—"

The conservatory door flew open before she could finish.

"Rose."

Sylvester stood in the doorway, his face white as paper.

"You really want a divorce?"

I hadn't expected him to be here.

I turned and saw him silhouetted against the light. He was still wearing yesterday's shirt, rumpled and creased, nothing like the polished figure he usually cut. His eyes were threaded with red veins. He clearly hadn't slept.

"Yes. I've made up my mind."

I turned back to face Matriarch Farley.

Sylvester walked into the conservatory and stopped in front of me, his voice pressed low.

"Why? Where did I fall short?"

"Or was there someone in that flock of nobodies last night who suits you better than I do?"

The corner of my mouth twitched. I looked away from him.

"It has nothing to do with them. This is my problem. We were wrong from the start. The sooner we separate, the better it is for both of us."

The veins on the back of his hand stood out against the bone.

"Wrong?"

"The engagement was arranged by your grandmother and my grandmother. You agreed to the wedding. And now you're saying it was wrong?"

"I changed my mind. Is that not allowed?"

I was getting irritated.

"Sylvester, you can't force something that isn't there. A man with your credentials doesn't need to waste his time on me. Word gets out, it won't do your reputation any favors either."

Sylvester stared at me, unblinking. The rims of his eyes slowly turned red.

Then he spun around and strode toward the display cabinet in the corner of the conservatory.

An antique pistol sat on one of the shelves, a Farley family heirloom passed down through generations.

He snatched it up so fast that even the bodyguard beside him didn't have time to react.

He raised the gun. The cold metal barrel pressed against his own temple.

"If you walk out that door today, or say the word 'divorce' one more time—"

He looked me straight in the eyes. His hand was steady, but his voice shook.

"I'll pull the trigger."

Matriarch Farley gasped. "Sylvester! Have you lost your mind?"

I smiled.

He'd pulled this exact stunt in my last life.

Back then, I'd panicked. I caved immediately, promised I'd never bring up divorce again.

And what happened?

He turned around and went straight to Lucy Stephens.

This time, I wasn't falling for it.

Everyone in the conservatory was frozen in shock.

Matriarch Farley shot to her feet. "Sylvester! Put that gun down!"

I stood rooted to the spot too.

In my last life, he'd kept himself pure for Lucy, even walked away from the board of directors for her. It had never occurred to me that he would use something like this to corner me.

Where had things gone off track?

Was it because I hadn't clung to him the way I did before, so his pride was wounded?

Or was this simply what happened when the young master of the Farley family got rejected and couldn't stomach the humiliation?

Matriarch Farley was frantic. She shot me a look, eyes wide with urgency.

"Rose! Talk some sense into him!"

I couldn't move.

I didn't want to walk down that same road again.

The conservatory was so quiet it was suffocating. The only sound was the low, steady hum of the greenhouse ventilation system.

Sylvester's gaze locked onto me, unrelenting, waiting for my answer.

I stared at the barrel pressed against his temple, and for the first time, I hesitated.