Kierra POV:

I used my key to open the door to my apartment, not the new home I was supposed to share with George. The moment the door clicked shut, the city's noise and the bar's chaos were sealed away, leaving only a deafening silence.

My body slid down the door, my legs giving out. I sat on the cold floor, the tight string of control finally snapping. The immense grief and the rage of betrayal washed over me like a tidal wave.

I didn't cry. I just sat there, staring at the ceiling, replaying the video in my head. Not to torture myself, but to burn the pain into my memory, to make sure I would never be that stupid again.

My phone began to vibrate violently. "George" flashed across the screen. I watched it ring for a full minute until it went silent.

Then came the flood of texts.

"Kierra, please, let me explain!"

"It wasn't real, she seduced me!"

"I love you, only you!"

I stared at the pathetic words, a bitter, humorless smile on my lips. He couldn't even admit his own fault.

I didn't reply. I opened his contact, scrolled down, and selected "Block this Caller."

Then I went through my messages, one by one, blocking the so-called friends who sent texts of fake concern, their words dripping with a morbid curiosity to witness the drama.

The phone rang again. A new number. I answered. George's hysterical voice screamed through the speaker. "Kierra! You can't do this to me!"

I said nothing. I just hung up and blocked the number.

Then, a new message popped up. It was from my stepmother, Justine Sloan. "After causing such a huge embarrassment, do you even have the face to come back?"

A cold sneer twisted my lips. I blocked her number, too.

Finally, silence.

I pushed myself up from the floor and walked to the bathroom, turning the shower on as hot as I could stand. The scalding water beat down on my skin, as if trying to wash away the disgusting feeling of his betrayal.

After my shower, wrapped in a towel, I walked into my closet. My eyes landed on the dresses I'd bought for the wedding festivities, the matching outfits we were supposed to wear. I grabbed a giant black trash bag and started throwing everything related to George into it.

His shirts, the ties he left here, the gifts he'd given me... I didn't hesitate for a second.

Once everything was cleared out, the air in the apartment felt cleaner.

Then, the doorbell rang.

I looked through the peephole. It was George. He looked pathetic, his hair a mess, his face a canvas of desperation.

"Kiki, open the door! I know you're in there! Let's talk!" he yelled, his fists pounding against the wood.

I ignored him, turned around, and walked into my bedroom, locking the door behind me.

He begged, apologized, and then started cursing for nearly half an hour. I put on my headphones, turned up the music, and drowned him out completely.

When the noise outside finally stopped, I took them off. I knew this was just the beginning.

Ending our engagement wasn't just about me and him. It involved two families. The Thorntons wouldn't give up on the alliance with my family so easily.

I opened my laptop and started searching for information on the Thornton family's business dealings. I needed to find their weak spot.

A verbal breakup wasn't enough. I needed an official, public statement that they couldn't deny.

And there was only one person who could make that happen: the Thornton family matriarch, George's mother, Beatrice Thornton.

I saved the video to a secure cloud server and sent an encrypted email to my lawyer, asking about the legal risks of releasing it publicly.

The reply came quickly. He advised against a public release but confirmed it could be used as leverage in a negotiation.

I stared out at the city lights, a plan already forming in my mind.

I was done being passive. I would take the initiative, seize control of this farce, and hold it tightly in my own hands.

I needed to go to the Thornton estate and speak with Beatrice face-to-face.

I opened the map on my phone, planning the route. Just then, a new text message arrived, from another completely unknown number.

"Need a ride? To the Thornton estate."

Kierra POV:

My first reaction to the mysterious text was suspicion. I walked to the window, carefully lifting a corner of the curtain to look down at the street below.

A black Bentley was parked at the curb, its lines sleek and powerful. A tall man leaned against the car, his form imposing in the darkness, clad in a perfectly tailored black suit.

Even though I couldn't see his face clearly, the oppressive aura he projected made my heart clench. He seemed to sense my gaze, lifting his head and looking directly at my window.

I dropped the curtain immediately, my heart pounding against my ribs. Who was he?Why is he here? Could that mysterious text message have been sent by him? A fierce impulse drives me—I must get to the bottom of all this.

I changed quickly into a simple black dress and a trench coat.

Grabbing my phone and car keys, I went downstairs, fully prepared to call the police if he had any ill intentions.

As I stepped out of the building's main entrance, the man straightened up. He walked toward me, each step radiating the pressure of an Alpha.

When he got closer, I finally saw his face.

It was Burton Houston. The Alpha of the Stone River pack and the CEO of the commercial empire, Houston Holdings. I'd seen him in business magazines. He was even more intimidating in person, his golden eyes as sharp as a hawk's.

"Mr. Houston?" I asked, surprised. He wasn't part of my circle, or George's. We had only seen each other once, from a distance, at some gala.

"Ms. Sloan," his voice deep and magnetic. "I happened to know you needed to be somewhere, and we're heading in the same direction."I suddenly realized that no one except the sender of that anonymous video could possibly know that I am currently urgently dealing with George's mess, let alone that I need to go to Thornton Manor.

It hit me instantly. He was the one who sent the video. A complex mix of emotions washed over me-annoyance at being used, but also a sliver of gratitude for the help.

"It was you," I stated, not a question.

Burton didn't confirm or deny it. He simply pulled open the back door of the Bentley and gestured for me to get in.

I weighed my options for three seconds. If I drove there myself, Beatrice might not even see me. She will see me as nothing more than an insignificant nuisance, a discarded fiancée who can be easily brushed aside. The power of the Thornton family and Beatrice's own arrogance would be more than enough to have me turned away at the door, or fobbed off with a perfunctory attitude.But with Burton Houston... the outcome would be entirely different.His name alone is a passport—an authority that brooks no question. As the Alpha of the Stone River Pack and the CEO of Houston Holdings, his very presence would fundamentally alter the nature of this matter. Beatrice could not ignore him, much less dismiss any request he represents. His involvement would ensure that my demands are taken seriously, not brushed aside with ease.

I didn't hesitate any longer. I slid into the car. The interior was spacious, filled with the faint, pleasant scent of cedar and leather.

The drive to the Thornton estate was silent. Burton drove himself, the only sound in the car the steady hum of the engine. I could feel his occasional glances in the rearview mirror, but I pretended not to notice.

The Bentley stopped smoothly in front of the ornate iron gates of the Thornton estate. As expected, when I gave my name, the guard said, "Mrs. Thornton is not seeing any visitors."

Just as I was about to argue, Burton lowered his window. The guard's face went pale the moment he saw him. "A-Alpha Houston!" he stammered.

The guard immediately spoke into his intercom. A minute later, the gates slid open without a sound.

The car drove directly to the main house. Beatrice Thornton was already waiting at the door, a fake smile plastered on her face. But when she saw Burton step out of the driver's seat, her smile froze.

"Burton? What are you doing here?" Beatrice's voice was filled with surprise and a hint of fear I couldn't miss.

"I'm escorting Ms. Sloan here to resolve some unpleasant business," Burton said, his tone flat but carrying an authority that allowed no argument.

We were led into the living room. Beatrice tried to pull me aside, but a single look from Burton stopped her.

I didn't waste any more time. I placed my phone on the coffee table and played the video.

Beatrice's face turned to stone, her lips pressed into a thin, hard line. After watching it, her first instinct was to look at Burton, her eyes pleading.

"I need the Thornton family to issue a public statement," I said calmly, stating my demand. "Announcing the dissolution of the engagement and apologizing for the harm George's actions have caused me."

Beatrice's face turned ashen. "Kierra, this is about family honor..."

"Honor?" Burton suddenly spoke. He was toying with a lighter, making a sharp clicking sound. "Would the Thornton family have more honor if this story appeared on the front page of The New York Times tomorrow?"

That broke her. Beatrice knew Burton had the power to do it. She shot me a venomous glare, then picked up the phone.

Half an hour later, the Thornton family's official social media account posted the statement. I reposted it with my own caption: "Trash belongs in the trash can. Glad to be free."

Then, I left in Burton's car, leaving the whole mess behind me.