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.

"Ma'am, Old Mrs. Henson has arrived."

The butler's voice came from the doorway at just the right moment.

"Show her in, quickly!"

Matriarch Farley looked visibly relieved.

The first thing my grandmother did when she walked in was smack me on the back of the head, followed by a swift kick to my shin.

"You ungrateful brat!"

"The Farley family honored you by accepting this marriage, and this is how you repay them? You vanished on your wedding night, and now you have the nerve to bring up divorce? You've dragged the entire Henson name through the mud!"

After she finished tearing into me, she turned to Matriarch Farley.

"Matriarch Farley, this is my failure. I didn't raise my granddaughter properly. She doesn't know her place, and she's caused you and Sylvester terrible trouble."

"I'm old now, and I clearly can't keep her in line anymore. So I'd like to hand over controlling interest in several of Henson Corp's core investment projects to you, as our family's way of making amends. From this point on, whether this brat lives or dies is no longer my concern!"

As she spoke, she pulled several thick folders from her handbag.

They were equity transfer agreements for some of Henson Corp's most profitable and strategically vital commercial ventures.

Matriarch Farley's expression shifted. She stood up immediately.

"Mrs. Henson, what are you doing? Please, sit down. This is a matter between the children. There's no need to go this far..."

"When a granddaughter makes a mess, the grandmother cleans it up."

My grandmother's tone was iron. She pushed the documents forward.

"Please accept these, Matriarch Farley. Consider it a way to let both our family and yours save face."

The conservatory fell silent again.

I clutched my shin, wincing, but didn't dare make a sound.

I knew my grandmother's temperament. She understood the way the world worked better than anyone. If she was doing this, she had her reasons.

After a long pause, Matriarch Farley finally sighed.

She helped my grandmother into a seat, and with a subtle gesture, signaled her secretary to collect the documents.

"Mrs. Henson, you're being far too generous. I've never blamed Rose."

Matriarch Farley turned to me, her gaze unreadable.

"Rose, remember this. Sylvester is your husband now. Don't bring up divorce again."

"...Understood." I forced the word through clenched teeth.

Matriarch Farley looked at Sylvester last, her tone softening slightly.

"Sylvester, you've had quite a scare today. Stay here at the estate and rest. Tomorrow, Rose will come to take you home."

Sylvester's grip on the pistol loosened. His eyes flicked to me, then to the two elders, and slowly, he set the gun down.

It hit the Persian rug with a soft click.

He lowered his head, his voice hoarse. "Alright."

A bodyguard stepped forward immediately to retrieve the weapon, and the butler hurried over to steady him.

As he turned to leave, his gaze lingered on me for a beat.

I looked away.

My grandmother glared at me, ice in her eyes.

"What are you standing there for? Haven't you embarrassed yourself enough? Come on. We're going home."

The moment we settled into the car, every trace of anger vanished from my grandmother's face.

She frowned and looked me over.

"Did I actually hurt you? Let me see. If your grandfather notices when we get back, he'll never let me hear the end of it."

My grandparents were devoted to each other in a way that bordered on ridiculous.

And everyone knew that Grandpa's greatest soft spot was me.

I hissed through my teeth. "Yes, it hurts! Did you have to kick that hard?"

"Hard?"

The old woman shot me a look.

"If you weren't the only heir I've got worth grooming, I would've broken your leg today."

She smacked me on the back for good measure.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble you caused in there?"

I kept my mouth shut. I knew exactly how much.

A marriage between powerful families was a delicate thing. Filing for divorce days after the wedding was the same as slapping the Farley family across the face in broad daylight.

If I'd been anyone else, I probably would have "gone missing" by now.

Seeing my expression, the old woman didn't press further. She just sighed.

"Rose, don't let the way things look fool you. Our family seems powerful, sure. But do you know how many eyes are on us? I've built something enormous. All those resources, all those channels I control. To everyone else, it's like a slab of prime rib dangling over their heads."