Hailey arrived at Killian's mansion. It was huge and cinematic, just like the one she'd grown up in all her life. Fountains spilled water into elegantly carved basins, and trees added bursts of green and gold around the massive yard—spacious enough to hold another mansion entirely.
The butler led her inside with silent grace.
"Can I offer you anything while you wait for Mr. Valtieri?" asked the silver-haired man. Though his face was etched with wrinkles, his movements were fluid—agile even, like he hadn't aged a day beneath his dignified exterior.
"A glass of water, please?" she replied softly.
He bowed and left, leaving her in a silence thick with wealth and cold detachment.
Hailey let her eyes roam. When she'd stormed out earlier that morning, her thoughts had been too jumbled to notice anything. But now, the living room revealed itself—walls painted in soft crème, a crystal chandelier hanging above like a crown of ice. It all screamed opulence.
She'd lived in luxury all her life, but the Valtieri brand of it was something her family couldn't afford in the next decade or two—maybe ever.
"I didn't expect you to return this early."
The voice cut through the quiet like a blade. She flinched, startled.
Killian stood a few feet away, no longer in hoodie and shorts, but in something tailored—dark, crisp, and powerful. He walked toward her slowly, the scent of lavender and sandalwood trailing after him. Or maybe it was his aftershave. She wasn't sure, but it was addictive.
"Why? Are you disappointed or impressed?" she asked, her tone laced with both defiance and curiosity.
"I must say I feel impressed rather than disappointed," he replied, taking the seat opposite hers like a man about to close a deal. "I'm guessing I'll be receiving cooperation from you, since you came back."
Hailey didn't answer. Instead, she reached into her bag and pulled out the marriage contract, dropping it on the polished coffee table between them like a silent challenge.
"I've gone through it. The terms aren't bad. But I want to add something."
Before she could go on, the butler returned with her glass of water. She paused. She wasn't sure if the servant was supposed to know about what was going on or not. Either way, she didn't want to take any chances.
She mumbled a thank you and waited until the man disappeared before continuing.
"I want to get back at my husband for cheating on me," she said, her voice even.
A faint grin touched Killian's lips—so subtle, it nearly vanished before it could be seen.
"And my sister. She betrayed me. She and my family. They hid my inheritance from me just because I was adopted. I want you to help me get it back," she said, her gaze sharpening. "And most importantly, I want money. Lots of it."
Killian let her words hang in the air. Then, slowly, he pulled out two black cards from his pocket and set one on the table, sliding it toward her.
"It's unlimited. Spend whatever you want," he said. "As for the inheritance… it can be handled in court. But you'll need the original will—the one where your name is listed as the sole inheritor."
"My father should have it hidden in his study."
"That won't be a problem," Killian said, as casually as if they were discussing dinner. "Since you'll be holding up your end of the bargain, I'll make sure to hold up mine—for the next three years."
Hailey nodded. No more hesitation. No more doubt.
She picked up the pen. The moment felt heavier than it should've. Ink on paper, yet it felt like signing away her past—and whatever peace she might have had left.
Killian signed after her, sealing the contract with that same calm sharpness.
Just like that, she was remarried.
"Now that's over," he said, "there's something else. The Valtieri family's seventieth anniversary gala is the next one month. You're coming with me."
Her head jerked up. "Wait—what? Isn't that too soon? I just got divorced. Won't that raise questions? I barely even know anything about you yet!"
Killian stood suddenly, towering over her with a look that made her stomach flip. She rose to her feet too, unwilling to feel small beneath his gaze.
"My family won't interrogate you like reporters," he said smoothly. "All you have to do is look good and act presentable." His eyes scanned her, slow and measuring. "Christopher will show you to your room once your bags are ready."
She assumed Christopher was the butler.
Without another word, he turned and disappeared behind the nearest door—like a storm that had passed but left the air charged.
Hailey stood there, fists clenched at her sides.
"Just what kind of nonsense did I sign myself into?" she muttered.