"Cassia, I'm so glad you feel that way! I'm lucky to be marrying such a generous and understanding woman."

"It's just…" Julian paused.

"The wedding is tomorrow, and Chloe urgently needs some money. Could you ask your father to let me 'borrow' a shipment of off-the-books cargo? Fifty million dollars' worth."

"Something has happened to Chloe's family. If she can't get the money now, they're going to destroy her."

Papa's gaze turned as cold as a blade, his hand subconsciously moving toward the gun tucked at his waist.

But I simply smiled and said:

"Asking Papa directly would put him in a difficult position, wouldn't it? I'll have my lawyer draft a personal guarantee for you tonight. Think of it as 'buying' the cargo from me. It solves your urgent problem and serves as a show of good faith."

Julian hesitated. After all, it was a legally binding personal guarantee, making him personally liable for fifty million dollars.

Seeing his hesitation, I immediately added:

"Julian, it's just a formality. We're about to be husband and wife, so what's mine is yours, right? The agreement will be yours soon enough anyway. I'm just thinking of you. It doesn't look good for a man to be using his fiancée's family's resources before the wedding… People will talk."

"You're right, Cassia. You're always so thoughtful."

Julian quickly signed the agreement and went off excitedly to arrange for his men to pick up the cargo.

I turned to my father.

"Papa, what would you think of an alliance with the Reyes family?"

Papa was stunned.

"But you can't stand Griffin, can you? You said he was brutish and clingy."

I gave a bitter smile. That was because after my family was destroyed in my past life, Julian scattered my ashes into the Hudson River.

It was Griffin who had rallied his forces, wiped out the entire Thorne family, and dredged my ashes from that very river. He even traded half of his Miami territory just to have me buried in the Valerius family cemetery.

It was only when I saw him kneeling before my grave, crying like a helpless child, that I understood the one who truly loved me was Griffin.

"Papa, Griffin may be two years younger than me, but he's straightforward. He doesn't play those kinds of games. He… has feelings for me. Unlike some people who are already plotting how to bleed our family dry before they even say 'I do.'"

"Besides, you and Don Reyes are close. If I marry into their family, I know I won't be mistreated."

My father pondered for a moment, then a ruthless smile spread across his face. He turned and started making a call.

I stepped out of the villa, hoping the evening breeze would clear my head.

The roses in the manor's garden were in full bloom, but in my memory, this place was nothing but a barren wasteland after being sold off for pennies on the dollar. After I died, Julian burned all my belongings and threw my father's heirlooms into the trash.

His devilish expression was seared into my mind.

"You old bastard, this is what you get for standing in my way! If it weren't for you, Chloe and I would be living happily ever after, not torn apart like this!"

Tears streamed down my face. I caressed the cold brick wall, letting the pain consume me.

Suddenly, I heard the idle chatter of gardeners from the shade of some nearby trees.

"That Thorne kid actually went to the Don tonight, demanding his mistress get a seat at the main table tomorrow."

"A seat at the main table? No, he wants her there as a second bride. The man wants to marry them both."

"That's outrageous! Who puts their fiancée and mistress at the main table together? Isn't he just spitting in the Principessa's face? And the Don's?"

"I heard the Thorne heir never wanted to marry the Principessa in the first place. She was the one who saw his family was going bankrupt and insisted on throwing herself at him. So much for being a mafia princess. Utterly shameless. She'll be fighting some whore over a man every day. I bet she'll have to get on her knees and beg for scraps of his attention."

Their words grew uglier, even imagining me licking Julian's leather shoes, begging for him to spare me a glance.

A wave of bitterness washed over me. So this was how low they thought I had sunk. But it was Julian who had pursued me first.

The Valerius and Thorne families had ties going back generations, their businesses deeply intertwined.

So, ever since we were children, Julian had always been my playmate.

Back then, he would sit beside me, carefully peeling apples for me.

He would wipe the chocolate sauce from the corner of my mouth and take me to Long Island to watch the sunrise over the sea.

When we grew up, he played the part of my guardian angel, chasing away every suitor who came near me.

I would pout and protest.

"Julian, you've scared them all away. What am I supposed to do now if I can't get married?"

He would sling an arm around my shoulders.

"You can only marry me. I won't let any other man near you."

Later, the year I got into Columbia, he booked an entire restaurant to celebrate my twenty-first birthday.

That day, under the brilliant crystal chandeliers, the young man's eyes blazed with a fierce intensity as he knelt on one knee and slid a ring onto my finger.

But all of that changed the moment he met my gallery assistant, Chloe Bennett—a girl who always seemed to be on the verge of tears.

His heart was completely captivated by Chloe's porcelain-doll fragility, as if she would shatter at the slightest touch. A single glistening teardrop poised on her long lashes was enough to send Julian's protective instincts into overdrive.

For Chloe, he forgot my birthday, all because she let out two soft coughs.

Worried that I might "bully" her, Julian bought her an apartment off-campus, giving her a "safe harbor" of her own.

It wasn't that I didn't throw fits or protest. But every time, I was met with the same line:

"I'm just taking care of her, that's all. Can you stop being so unreasonable?"

After countless arguments and hollow reconciliations, we finally hit a point of no return.

I heaved a long sigh. Just as I was turning to go back inside, Julian strode toward me from a distance, his face a mask of undisguised fury.