Chapter 3

For my date with the tech mogul, I wore an ivory silk slip dress Julian had bought me for my last birthday.

Before I stepped out the door, Julian smoothed down my hemline, his voice low and raspy.

"You look stunning."

"I'm meeting someone new," I said, gazing into the mirror with polite detachment. "I couldn't possibly embarrass the Hayes family."

Julian’s hands froze.

"Stella, do you really have to do this?"

"Why shouldn't I? The curtain's up. It would be rude to waste the money you and your mother invested in me."

His jaw clenched hard, veins ticking against his neck as a turbulent storm brewed in his eyes.

"I just didn't want people whispering about you."

"I don't care about whispers," I turned, locking eyes with him. "Getting to meet so many powerful men is an honor."

The temperature in the room plummeted with every word I spoke.

He probably expected me to weep, to fall to my knees, to beg him to call off this sick game.

In the past, whenever Victoria tore into me, I would seek refuge in his arms.

He would hold me, whisper sweet reassurances, and tell me, *I'm here for you.*

Too bad. I was done listening.

Inside the private VIP lounge at The Gilded Club, Dominic looked even sharper than his photo.

Tailored Italian suit, a Patek Philippe gleaming on his wrist, his gaze behind gold-rimmed glasses cold and appraising.

He gave me a slight nod, motioning for me to take the leather armchair across from him.

"Mrs. Hayes, I reviewed your file," he said without preamble. "I'm satisfied. Your looks, pedigree, and education meet my standards."

He spoke like a CEO interviewing a mid-level director.

"My terms are non-negotiable. Once we're married, you will close your art studio and become a full-time hostess. I don't need you managing my life, but I need you looking pristine beside me at galas."

"We get what we want, and stay out of each other's lane. As for assets, I'll provide a very generous prenuptial agreement to guarantee your lifestyle."

Crisp, efficient, cold—a pure merger.

I sat quietly, listening with a poised smile.

Suddenly, the double doors were slammed open.

Julian stood in the doorway, framed against the hallway light, his silhouette sharp and menacing. His dark eyes burned with chilling rage.

Behind him stood the club manager, pale and trembling.

Dominic frowned, but stood up politely.

"Mr. Hayes. What a coincidence."

Julian didn't spare him a glance. He marched straight to me, his fingers wrapping like iron cuffs around my wrist.

"We're going home."

His grip was brutal, pinching the bone.

I didn't flinch. I merely looked up at him, calm as still water.

"My meeting isn't finished."

"Stella!"

He spat my name through gritted teeth.

Dominic adjusted his glasses, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Easy, Julian. If your wife has decided to move on, why make a scene? We're all adults here. Let's keep it classy."

That pushed Julian over the edge.

He shoved my wrist away and turned on Dominic, his fists clenched.

"Who the hell do you think you are to touch what's mine?!"

Dominic's expression cooled, but he smirked.

"Careful with your words, Julian. Your wife's profile was submitted to the agency with a clear price tag. And I happen to be a premier Black Diamond client."

Julian let out a vicious sneer. "You think you're worthy of her?"

He grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the door.

My heel caught on the carpet, scraping harshly against the parquet floor.

"Julian, you're hurting me."

He halted. When he turned back, his eyes were bloodshot, pupils blazing with a raw fury that felt almost feral.

Yet he eased his grip, scooped me up into his arms, and carried me out past the gawking staff, tossing me into the passenger seat of his car.

The moment the front door of our penthouse slammed shut, he threw me onto the couch.

His eyes were wild, breathing ragged, hovering over me like a predator ready to snap my neck.

"Are you happy now?! Did you enjoy watching me look like a fucking clown?!"

I calmly smoothed out the wrinkles in my silk dress.

"You spent $1.2 million to pimp me out to a richer man, Julian. Why throw a tantrum now?"

His chest heaved violently, choked on his own venom.

"That prick wasn't fit to breathe the same air as you! Let me make this clear, Stella—even if we get divorced, you will never end up with a scumbag who sees you as a trophy!"

"Then what kind of man should I look for?" I challenged. "Isn't that the exact trash you paid for? Or is this the best your million-dollar package could buy?"

"You—!"

His hand shot up, poised to strike.

I didn't blink. I met his glare, unflinching.

His hand froze in midair. With a savage growl, he spun and drove his fist straight into the wall behind me.

Plaster cracked and showered over my shoulder.

"Stella!" His voice sounded like it crawled out of hell. "You're going to regret this."

I wouldn't regret a single damn thing.

The only one who would drown in regret was him.