It was a customary visit.

The next morning, Ashlyn and Valerie arrived at the Robertson residence, bringing a carefully chosen gift for Mr. and Mrs. Robertson.

Throughout the meal, the conversation was a study in faultless decorum. Laughter was polite and perfectly timed, compliments were measured, and not a single word fell out of place.

The lunch concluded smoothly.

Sylvia Robertson smiled warmly. "You two are sweet girls. There's no need to linger with us—why not take the afternoon to yourselves? You're all young, after all."

The others murmured their agreement, and Ashlyn rose with them.

Within moments, the dining room had cleared out.

"Ashlyn." A low voice cut through the quiet. Dylan was suddenly beside her, his expression detached. "Come with me."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked away.

Ashlyn had no choice but to hurry after him.

They made their way to the study on the upper floor.

Dylan closed the door behind them with a casual flick of his wrist.

The latch clicked softly into place.

But the quiet sound sent a jolt of ice through Ashlyn, dragging her back into the horror of her past life.

Whenever Simon deemed her disobedient, his mask of civility would vanish. He would drag her into a room, unbuckle his belt, and lash out. Each strike was a lesson in pain, meant to teach her fear and submission.

Every blow brought a searing, unforgettable agony.

Ashlyn flinched instinctively, taking a sharp step back.

Dylan noticed her reaction and paused, maintaining a careful distance. "Don't worry," he said, his voice even. "I won't lay a finger on you. Some conversations are simply better held behind closed doors."

Ashlyn forced herself to stand her ground, her hand clenching into a fist. "Understood."

The terror Simon had instilled in her was still too close to the surface.

Steadying herself, Ashlyn studied Dylan.

In her previous life, she had seen him only twice.

Once, during the engagement negotiations between their families, and a second time after the car accident that had left him disfigured, wheelchair-bound, and utterly broken.

Even then, she had only glimpsed him from a distance.

Compared to the humiliated man she remembered, the Dylan standing before her now was untouched by tragedy. He embodied the ruthless, decisive reputation that preceded him in the business world.

He stood nearly six-foot-three, with slicked-back hair and a dark dress shirt tucked into tailored slacks. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing powerful, corded forearms.

"What is it?" Ashlyn asked, lowering her gaze.

A chilling thought struck her: if a man this powerful ever decided to hurt her, she wouldn't stand a chance.

Dylan walked to the desk, pulled out a document, and tossed it down in front of her. "Let me be clear. I've agreed to this marriage, but there is no affection between us."

Ashlyn already knew he had someone else.

"I imagine you have your own reasons for agreeing to this," he continued, "circumstances you couldn't control." He slid the document closer to her. "So, until this marriage is dissolved, I expect you to abide by these terms. In public, we will act like a loving couple. In private, I will not touch you or interfere in your life. I expect the same from you."

Ashlyn looked up, her voice sharp with disbelief. "Really?"

Her reaction was decidedly odd.

Dylan arched a brow. "You seem rather eager."

"Not at all." Ashlyn bit her lip, quickly picking up the document and scanning it with care.

The terms were fair and straightforward—mostly standard post-marital considerations.

She found nothing objectionable. Picking up a pen, she moved to sign—then stopped just before the nib touched the paper.

"What is it?" Dylan frowned. "Is something unclear?"

Ashlyn met his gaze. "Just to be clear, Dylan. My research... you won't interfere with that either, will you?"

A corner of Dylan's mouth twitched. "Correct. Once we've played our public roles, our private lives are our own."

Just then, a phone rang.

Dylan answered it, his voice instantly losing its hard edge, replaced by a surprising gentleness. "Don't worry, I'll send someone over now. I'm just finishing up here... I'll head your way soon. Okay."

The transformation was startling. The cold, detached man from moments ago was gone, replaced by someone warm and reassuring.

Whoever was on the other end of the line clearly meant the world to him.

For Ashlyn, this was all the confirmation she needed. A wave of relief washed over her, and with a decisive flick of her wrist, she signed her name on the bottom line.

Dylan hung up, turned, and saw the signed document. He gave a slight nod. "Thank you."

The agreement was in duplicate. She took her copy.

With their business concluded, Dylan tucked his copy away and opened the door, gesturing for her to exit. He was polite, efficient, and clearly in a hurry to leave.

Stepping out of the study, she saw no sign of Simon or Valerie.

Dylan noted, "It seems your sister and Simon have already left. How are you getting home? I can have a car sent around."

He maintained an impeccable, courteous distance. He wasn't being cruel, just clear about their boundaries.

Ashlyn felt a growing sense of ease.

After the years of mental manipulation, gaslighting, and physical abuse she had endured from Simon, a man like Dylan—cold but direct—felt like a lifeline.

With this arrangement, she could finally break free from the Brooks family and immerse herself completely in her research.

And when the time came, divorcing him would be simple. She would finally be free to live on her own terms.

"That won't be necessary." Ashlyn respected the boundary he'd drawn. "I'll call a taxi. Thank you."

Dylan gave a distant nod and walked away without another word.

Ashlyn politely declined the Robertson family butler's offer of a car and made her way out on foot.

As she passed the garden, she heard voices drifting from within.

"Valerie, you can rest assured. I'm not like my brother. His marriage is just a formality to satisfy the family, but my feelings for you are real."

It was Simon's voice.

Ashlyn froze, her breath catching in her throat.

Her fear of Simon was that absolute.

She stood rigid, not daring to move.

Through a gap in the foliage, she could see Simon fastening a necklace around Valerie's throat, his expression impossibly tender.

"Let me put it on for you."

Valerie tilted her head, a slight flush on her cheeks. "Yes."

With her back to him, she missed the way his tender expression hardened into something cold and calculating.

Valerie might be the youngest of the Brooks daughters, but she was currently their father's favorite and stood to inherit a controlling share of the family enterprise.

Securing her would make the Brooks family a powerful ally in his own fight for the Robertson inheritance.

As for Ashlyn?

She was just a bookworm who only knew how to hide in her research.

Valerie touched the necklace at her throat, a sweet, triumphant smile playing on her lips.

In her previous life, she had married Dylan full of hope, believing she could one day win his heart.

But all she had gotten was a cold contract.

That one mistake had led to everything falling apart, and ultimately she had died in childbirth.

So this time, she chose Simon, the gentlest of them.

At the wedding, she would outshine Ashlyn completely.

"It's getting late," Simon said, his gentle smile returning as he faced Valerie again. "Let me take you home."

"Alright." Valerie took his hand, her grip firm and eager.

The two of them left by another path.

Hidden in the shadows, Ashlyn felt her knees nearly buckle. She steadied herself against a nearby stone.

She took a moment to collect herself before heading for the gate, just in time to see Simon opening the car door for Valerie before they both climbed inside.

Through the window, Valerie's gaze found Ashlyn. She shot her a smug, challenging look, her lips curving into a triumphant smile.

She believed that by now, Ashlyn probably had her contract.

This time, Ashlyn won't be the lucky one.

The car drove off.

But as it disappeared, Ashlyn felt nothing but profound relief. In this life, she would never have to be near Simon again.

The wedding day was fast approaching.

After the engagement, Valerie and Simon were inseparable, lost in a whirlwind of romantic dates and spontaneous weekends away.

Ashlyn, however, was a world apart. Since her discussion with Dylan in his study, they hadn't been in contact. She had thrown herself completely into her research projects.

The Robertson and Brooks families had agreed on a joint ceremony.

On the eve of the wedding, Sean Harvey, Dylan's assistant, arrived with a gown and a selection of jewelry.

Just as Dylan had promised, he was keeping up appearances, granting her all the status and respect that came with her position.

"Ms. Brooks, this is a French haute couture gown," Sean said, his tone professionally respectful. "Mr. Robertson commissioned it three months ago." He gestured to the accessories. "And the jewelry is set with an exceptionally rare blue diamond. Mr. Robertson flew to Italy personally to have it designed by an atelier renowned for its traditional craftsmanship."

The gown and necklace were both breathtaking.

Ashlyn's expression, however, remained perfectly composed. She simply offered a polite, "Thank you."

Sean's words were likely embellished, but Dylan's intent was clear. As long as she upheld her end of their agreement, he would treat her fairly.

As Sean left, Ashlyn turned and saw Valerie standing in the living room.

"Feeling important, are you?" Valerie's voice was laced with sarcasm. Her eyes glinted with bitter resentment. "Marrying the future heir to the Robertson empire certainly changes things."

Knowing what Valerie had done in her last life, Ashlyn had no desire to get tangled up with such a petty schemer. She simply said, "You and Simon clearly care for each other. I'm sure he won't neglect you. That gown and jewelry from him are chosen with care."

Ashlyn's mind drifted back. In her last life, Simon had worn a meticulously crafted mask, and he hadn't let it slip until three months after their wedding. The gown and jewelry he'd prepared for her back then hadn't been on the same level as what Dylan was providing now, but they were far from shabby.

What she didn't realize was that her calm words had struck a nerve.

Simon had specifically told Valerie that with both ceremonies happening together and Dylan being the official heir, it wouldn't do for their own arrangements to outshine his brother's.

The gown and jewels Simon had provided for her, though high quality, seemed like pale imitations compared to what Ashlyn now possessed.

"Feeling smug?" Valerie sneered, a sinister glint in her eyes. "You won't be for long."

She had destroyed Dylan once before. In her last life, she had ruined him, leaving him scarred and confined to a wheelchair. This time would be no different.

As long as Simon loved her, she could easily push him into the heir's position.

Ashlyn only nodded, offering no further comment as she brushed past her.

At four o'clock the next morning, the Robertson family's glam team arrived, and the two brides began their makeup in separate rooms.

Ashlyn hadn't slept much, having stayed up late reviewing research materials.

Even now, a complex data set was still running through her mind.

"Strange," the makeup artist murmured, frowning at a lipstick. "This one looks... off. Maybe it's expired?"

"N-no, I don't think so," the assistant stammered, her voice trembling slightly. "That's just how this brand is. We're short on time—let's just use another one for Ms. Brooks."

The makeup artist shrugged, set the odd lipstick aside, and picked up a different one to start on Ashlyn's lips.

"Wait." Ashlyn held up a hand. Her tone was polite, but it left no room for argument. "May I see that lipstick?"

She shot the assistant a sharp glance, catching the flicker of panic that crossed the young woman's face.

The makeup artist handed it over without a second thought. "The texture is weird, but that might just be their signature formula. Good thing we have backups."

"Exactly," the assistant jumped in, a little too eagerly. "We can just keep this one aside. If your makeup smudges during the ceremony, we can use it for a touch-up."

Ashlyn lowered her head, opened the tube, and inspected it closely. She then brought it to her nose and inhaled softly. A slow, knowing smile curved her lips.

Someone had mixed peanut powder into the lipstick. And Ashlyn was deathly allergic to peanuts.

She didn't need to guess who was behind it. Only one person would pull such a vicious, underhanded stunt.

After all, in her previous life, Valerie had an entire arsenal of similarly twisted tricks.

Ashlyn handed the lipstick back with a serene smile and beckoned the makeup artist closer.

When the artist leaned in, Ashlyn whispered something in her ear.

The assistant couldn't hear a word, her anxiety spiking as she watched them.

A steely resolve replaced the confusion in the artist's eyes. She gave a short, determined nod. "Understood."

Once the makeup was done, the maid of honor arrived.

Ashlyn had only one bridesmaid—Paige Shaw, her ride-or-die best friend since childhood.

Paige walked in and gave her a mischievous wink. She leaned close and whispered, "The mission you gave me is all set. But how did you know Cathleen Dunn would cause a scene? Are you sure she's going to show up?"

Cathleen was the woman Dylan had loved from afar. In Ashlyn's last life, Valerie had stopped at nothing to target Cathleen in her obsessive quest to win Dylan's affection.

Ultimately, Valerie's scheming had become so depraved that she conspired with outsiders, setting a trap that betrayed him in the worst way imaginable.

It left him permanently scarred and confined to a wheelchair, a shadow of his former self.

And Cathleen, the woman Dylan had sworn to protect, had stayed by his side for only three months. Once she realized he was of no more use to her, she walked away without a backward glance.

"I don't know for sure," Ashlyn said with a gentle smile. "Call it a precaution."

Because at the wedding in her previous life, Cathleen had indeed appeared and created a massive, humiliating scene—for Valerie.

Paige nodded. "Fair enough. I know your marriage is just a contract and you have no intention of getting between them, but Cathleen doesn't know that. A little extra caution never hurts."

On this, Ashlyn had never hidden the truth from Paige.

How could she? In her last life, Paige had died trying to rescue Ashlyn from Simon's clutches.

This time, she would protect Paige with everything she had.

The grooms arrived to pick up their brides. Skipping the drawn-out formalities, the group soon reached the ceremony venue.

The four of them stood before the grand doors of the hall.

Ashlyn and Dylan were side-by-side in the front, with Valerie and Simon positioned directly behind them.

The doors swung open.

Applause erupted from the crowd.

With practiced chivalry, Dylan offered his arm. Ashlyn placed her hand on it with a polite smile, and they began their walk down the aisle.

To the guests, they were a strikingly handsome couple, the very picture of perfection.

Valerie followed right behind them.

Just before stepping forward, she had quickly reapplied her lipstick, checking her reflection to ensure she was flawless. Satisfied, she looped her arm intimately through Simon's and took her place.

But the moment she stepped into the spotlight, an abrupt, unnatural hush fell over the crowd.

Her heart plummeted. Something was wrong. A burning, stinging sensation was spreading from her lips across her cheeks.

In a panic, she turned to Simon, her voice trembling. "Simon! What's happening? Is there something on my face?"

"It's nothing," he said flatly. His brow furrowed, more from annoyance than concern. "Just a small allergic reaction. Nothing serious. I'll have someone bring you some cream."

Valerie froze. An allergy? How could that be? It was Ashlyn who was supposed to be having this reaction.

A venomous hatred blazed in her eyes as she stared at Ashlyn's back.

Ashlyn. It had to be her. She must have done something to the lipstick.

That wretched, scheming woman.

When had she become so damn cunning?