Cassie sat alone in the bridal suite of the Rowland estate. The heavy gown was gone, replaced by a simple silk robe. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sprawling gardens were cloaked in darkness.

She walked to the dressing table and stared at her reflection. The face was hers, yet it felt like a stranger's.

Her fingers went to her wrist, tracing the outline of a unique, custom-made bracelet. It had been with her for as long as she could remember.

It was only after her "death" in her past life, as her soul lingered, that she had learned the shocking truth from a conversation between Eleanor and Fulton Beaumont.

The memory surged back, sharp and cold.

They were standing outside her hospital room, during the futile attempt to "save" her.

Fulton's voice was low, laced with fear. "She's dying! If she dies, what if the Sinclair family finds us? We stole their daughter!"

Eleanor's reply was chillingly pragmatic. "It's better if she dies. A dead girl can't prove she was the infant who disappeared from that hospital in Montana. This bracelet is the only proof. Once she's dead, the bracelet is ours."

Even now, reborn and safe, the memory made Cassie's breath catch in her throat. The cold was a physical thing.

She wasn't a foster daughter.

She was a stolen heiress.

It all made sense now. The vast difference in how the Beaumonts treated her versus their biological daughter, Amelia. Amelia was their precious child. Cassie was a tool, a pawn to be used for their benefit, and a secret to be buried at any cost.

They had arranged her marriage to Alex for the Beaumont family's gain.

And when she had accidentally stumbled upon evidence of Fulton using the family foundation for money laundering, they had conspired with Alex to have her "accidentally" killed.

It was to silence her.

And to bury the secret of her identity forever.

In the mirror, the woman's eyes burned with the promise of revenge. She was no longer the obedient, pliable Cassie Rosales.

Her only goal now was to make the Beaumont family and Alex Rowland pay in blood.

She gently twisted the bracelet on her wrist. Its intricate, ancient pattern glinted in the light.

Sinclair. She committed the name to memory.

To achieve her goal, she needed power. She needed a solid foundation. And Adrian Rowland, the head of the Rowland family, was her chosen weapon.

She knew the rumors. He was frail, sickly, not expected to live past thirty.

That was exactly what she needed. A temporary husband who would provide her with cover but not interfere with her plans.

She calmly analyzed the situation. The Rowland family was not a monolith. Alex's father, Marcus, had always coveted the inheritance.

Her actions today had thrown her directly into the center of the Rowland family's power struggle. But only from the center of the storm could she command the winds.

She stood and walked to the minibar, pouring herself a glass of champagne.

The cool liquid slid down her throat, calming the storm inside her.

Her first task was to solidify her position as "Mrs. Rowland."

That meant she had to gain Adrian's approval, or at the very least, his cooperation.

She thought about the words he had whispered at the altar. "A bold move. Don't make me regret it."

It wasn't a question. It wasn't a threat. It was more like... an assessment between equals. That surprised her.

This man was far more complex than the rumors suggested.

She walked to the window. Down below, the last of the wedding guests were leaving. The farce of a wedding was finally over.

She knew Alex and the Beaumonts must be furious, already plotting their next move. They would try to have the marriage annulled. They would attack her with a media smear campaign.

But she didn't care. As long as Adrian stood by her, the Rowland name was her impenetrable shield.

As she stood there, lost in thought, a soft knock came at the door.

Cassie's heart skipped a beat. She turned to face the entrance.

She didn't answer. The person outside seemed patient, waiting in the silence.

After a few seconds, the handle turned. The door swung open.

Adrian Rowland walked in. He had changed out of his tuxedo and was wearing a dark, casual suit. In his hands, he held a tray.

Adrian entered the room and placed the tray on the coffee table. On it sat a steaming bowl of soup and a plate of delicate pastries.

He didn't look at Cassie. "You probably haven't eaten all day," he said, his voice flat and unreadable.

Cassie remained where she was, wary. She didn't trust this kindness from a man she had just forced into marriage.

Adrian seemed to sense her suspicion. He finally met her eyes, his blue irises dark in the lamplight. "Don't worry," he said dryly. "It's not poisoned."

The joke, meant to be light, tightened a knot in Cassie's stomach. She remembered the glass of "celebratory" champagne Alex had handed her in her past life.

Adrian caught the flicker of pain in her eyes but didn't press. He simply gestured to the sofa.

"I think we should talk," he said.

Cassie hesitated for a moment before walking over, choosing the farthest end of the sofa to sit. The physical distance between them was a clear reflection of their current relationship: wary, distant, yet bound together.

She didn't touch the food. "What do you want to talk about? How we can annul this marriage?" She went on the offensive, testing his limits.

A barely perceptible smile touched Adrian's lips. "Annulment? Miss Rosales... oh, I'm sorry, it's Mrs. Rowland now. You made me the laughingstock of New York in front of hundreds of guests and the media, and you expect to just walk away?"

His tone was still calm, but Cassie felt the pressure beneath it. This man was not going to be easy.

"I saved you from a well-known business arrangement and gave you a wife who, at the very least, won't embarrass you in public," Cassie countered coolly. "As for laughingstocks, I think an enraged Alex and a jilted Amelia are far more amusing than you are."

A glint of appreciation appeared in Adrian's eyes. He leaned back against the sofa, his posture relaxing. "You're smart. And brave," he conceded. "But you've dragged the Rowland family into this mess."

"Which is why I chose you, the heir to the Rowland family, and not Alex," Cassie stated directly. "I can help you deal with your rivals. In return, you need to provide me with protection. It's a transaction."

Adrian fell silent. He picked up a glass of water from the table, his fingers long and elegant. He didn't drink, just watched the ripples on the surface.

"The Beaumonts and Alex's father, Marcus, will do everything they can to invalidate this marriage," he stated, laying out the facts.

"That depends on your stance," Cassie said. "As long as you acknowledge me, there's nothing they can do."

Adrian put the glass down and leaned forward slightly, closing the distance between them. A faint scent of cedarwood reached her.

"And why should I acknowledge you? A woman of unknown origins who schemed against everyone at her own wedding." His voice was low, carrying a dangerous, magnetic quality.

Cassie didn't flinch. She met his gaze head-on. "Because my enemies are also your enemies. Uncle Marcus wants his son to replace you, doesn't he?"

Adrian's expression finally shifted. The calm facade cracked, revealing a sliver of sharpness. She had guessed right.

"Deal," he said, the word clean and final.

The weight in Cassie's chest lifted. She had won the first round.

"But," Adrian added, his tone shifting again, "I have one condition."

"What is it?"

"In this marriage, we are partners. We do not interfere in each other's private lives until our mutual goals are achieved. After that, I will give you enough money to live comfortably for the rest of your life, and your freedom." He slid a document across the table toward her.

It was a postnuptial agreement. The clauses were clear, written in the cold language of a business contract.

This was exactly what Cassie wanted. She had no intention of developing any emotional attachment to him.

She picked up the pen and swiftly signed her name: Cassie Rowland.

Seeing the name, Adrian's eyes flickered for a moment, but his expression quickly returned to neutral.

He took the document back and stood up. "Good. Now, eat something and get some rest. We have a tough battle to fight tomorrow."

He turned to leave.

At the door, he paused and looked back. "As a show of good faith for our partnership," he said, "I've had your 'assistants' moved into the guest room next door. You can 'summon' them whenever you like."

He was referring to Autumn and Jenny, the two spies Amelia had assigned to her.

A cold smile touched Cassie's lips. Adrian's thoughtfulness always came with an edge. He had not only accepted her alliance but had also handed her a knife.