Chapter 3

The lawyer’s office was dead quiet. A sterile sanctuary away from the backstage chaos.

"Mrs. Reed—apologies, Miss Hart," my lawyer, Mr. Sterling, corrected himself. He slid a stamped document across the polished mahogany. "The divorce decree is officially finalized. As of today, Nolan Reed has completely lost his spousal agency rights over your assets."

I took a slow sip of black coffee. The bitter warmth didn't melt the ice in my veins.

"However," Sterling continued, pushing a second, thicker folder forward. "Before the divorce was finalized, Nolan used your 'joint marital management' status to make some quiet, calculated moves."

I flipped open the file. My eyes scanned the highlighted pages with surgical precision.

Nolan had secretly inserted Iris Bell into the core project team. Worse, he had granted her full administrative access to the highly confidential Hart Legacy Fund archives. The archives my mother bled to build. PR drafts were already prepared. Nolan was actively packaging Iris as the new "Image Ambassador" for the Reed Foundation.

Tonight wasn't just a simple anniversary dinner. It was a coronation. Once the banquet ended, high society would treat Iris as the new lady of the foundation, effectively erasing seven years of my life.

Nolan probably thought I was backstage right now, throwing a childish fit of jealousy over a dress. He had no idea I was looking at the exact blueprint of his ultimate betrayal.

The time for grieving died in that dressing room.

I picked up the heavy silver pen from the desk. In three swift strokes, I signed three separate legal documents.

First: I officially revoked Nolan's proxy rights to my private assets.

Second: I immediately froze Iris's access to all foundation materials.

Third: I authorized a formal legal pursuit for the theft of my mother's vintage dress and speech.

The digital gates were slamming shut, and they wouldn't even know it until it was too late.

Just as the pen lifted from the final page, the heavy oak door swung open.

Theo Vale.

Chairman of Vale Global Arts. The apex predator of the city’s elite. The exact man Nolan had spent six desperate months trying to meet to secure his foundation's future.

Theo didn't look at the lawyer. He walked straight toward my chair, his dark eyes locking entirely on me. He dropped a sleek, black folder onto the desk.

A prenuptial agreement.

"You can marry me," Theo said. His voice was deep, absolute, leaving no room for doubt. "But what your mother left behind, and what you have built—it will always belong only to you."

I looked up at him. Seven years ago, I had turned away from him to build a house of cards with Nolan. Now, he was standing here, handing me the match to burn it down.

"Are you absolutely sure?" I asked softly. My voice trembled for the first time—not from fear, but from the weight of being truly seen. "Are you sure you want to marry a woman who just walked out of a seven-year lie?"

Theo didn't flinch. He reached out, his fingers grazing the collar of my coat with a dangerous gentleness.

"I am not waiting for someone else's wife," Theo said firmly. "I am waiting for you to be free. And you are, aren't you?"

My heart skipped a beat. The suffocating label of a 'divorced woman' shattered. I wasn't a discarded wife. I was stepping back into my own power, with the most dangerous man in the city standing right beside me.

Theo glanced at his watch, then met my eyes. "When should we register?"

I turned to the massive glass window. Across the skyline, the Reed Foundation banquet hall was lighting up for its grand anniversary.

I picked up my purse. I looked back at Theo, a merciless smile curving my lips.

"Before tonight."