Chapter 1 Divorce"Divorce."
The man shoved the agreement across the table, impatient.
"Thirty million. More than enough to last you a lifetime—"
"Today's our anniversary."
Cecilia's voice was calm. Too calm.
Her nails dug into her palms so hard she felt the skin break.
"Can't we at least finish dinner?"
It was their third wedding anniversary. She'd spent the entire afternoon preparing his favorite dishes—herb-crusted lamb, truffle risotto, the chocolate soufflé he'd mentioned liking once, two years ago.
And what she got in return?
A divorce agreement.
And a sharp laugh.
"You think one dinner is going to change anything? That I'll suddenly realize I'm in love with you?"
Jacob leaned back, arms crossed.
"Don't flatter yourself, Cecilia. That was NEVER going to happen."
His voice dropped, colder now.
"Megan's back. And I'm not going to make her wait another second for something I should've done years ago."
Just saying Megan's name softened something in his face—a warmth Cecilia had spent three years trying to earn.
Megan Oliver.
Three years ago, she'd dumped him and left the country without a backward glance.
Now, one phone call, and he was ready to throw everything away.
But for her?
No matter how devotedly she'd cared for his parents. No matter how perfectly she'd played the role of the obedient wife.
He'd never once looked at her like that.
Not even once.
"Does your grandfather know about this?"
"He's still in the hospital. He shouldn't be stressed." Jacob's jaw tightened.
"And don't think you can use him to guilt-trip me. Not again." His eyes went cold. "If you hadn't manipulated him with that so-called 'life-saving favor' back then, you never would've had the chance to marry into this family. You should've known this day was coming."
Cecilia's breath caught.
Manipulated?
His grandfather had been the one who'd begged her to marry Jacob. Who'd gotten down on his knees, tears in his eyes, and pleaded with her to give his grandson a chance.
"Besides," Jacob continued, checking his watch, "my parents have already agreed. They just finished dinner with Megan. They said it felt like having the right daughter-in-law back."
The right one.
Cecilia's nails cut deeper into her palms. Her eyes stung.
"And whether you sign or not, you're leaving tonight."
Cecilia froze.
She couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"She's moving in tonight?!"
"That room upstairs was hers to begin with. She just got back—she needs a place to stay. If you're still here, she'll feel uncomfortable."
Uncomfortable.
What about her?
Cecilia let out a short, bitter laugh.
For a split second, something flickered in Jacob's eyes—doubt, maybe guilt—but he recovered fast.
"You can move into Moonridge Manor. The villa will be yours."
He straightened his cuffs, like this was just another business transaction.
"I'm giving you a luxury property. That's more than generous."
In that moment, Cecilia swore she could hear it—the sound of whatever was left inside her finally shattering.
So that's what he thought.
That he'd never seen her as anything more than a small-town girl who'd gotten lucky. Someone who should be grateful for the scraps he threw her way.
He had no idea.
No idea that the Thornton deal—the one that had saved his company six months ago—had only gone through because she'd called in a favor.
No idea that the invitation from Helios Strategic Bureau, the one his father had called "career-defining," had been her doing.
No idea that the woman standing in front of him, the one he was discarding like yesterday's news, could destroy everything he'd built with a single phone call.
But she wasn't going to tell him that.
He didn't deserve to know.
Not anymore.
Seeing Cecilia stay silent, Jacob assumed she was calculating whether the compensation was enough.
His impatience grew.
"Don't be greedy. Know when to stop."
He checked his watch again, like he was timing her.
"If you drag this out and refuse to sign, I don't mind letting my lawyers—" He didn't get to finish.
"No need."
Cecilia's voice cut through his threat, sharp and final.
She picked up the pen.
For a moment, she remembered:
A dark basement. A blind girl surrounded by danger. A boy who'd carried her on his back for three days and nights, nearly dying to get her out.
"My name's Jacob," he'd said. "I won't let anything happen to you."
She'd believed him.
She'd spent twenty years looking for him. And when she'd finally met Jacob Kennedy—same name, same scar on his ribs, same age—she'd thought it was fate.
She'd been wrong.
The boy who'd saved her was gone.
This man? He was a stranger.
"I'll leave," Cecilia said quietly.
She signed the papers in three quick strokes.
Jacob, from this moment on, you've lost me forever.
And when you finally realize who I really am...
She slid them back across the table—right over the cold dinner she'd spent all day preparing.
"We owe each other nothing now."
She picked up her coat and walked to the door.
She didn't look back.
Chapter 2 Cruise Party
Cecilia walked out of the villa.
She dialed her best friend.
[I'm divorced. My house and car are still in Germany. Mind letting me crash at your place tonight?]
On the other end, there was a beat of stunned silence.
Then Rebecca Wilson's voice exploded.
[OH MY GOD, YOU FINALLY DIVORCED THAT IDIOT!!!]
Even holding her phone away from her ear, Cecilia could still hear Rebecca laughing.
[Girl, we need to throw a party tonight. Congratulations on your freedom!!!]
[Holy shit. If Helios Strategic Bureau finds out their founder is back, the entire industry is going to LOSE THEIR MINDS!!!]
[Let them. No chatting. Hurry to pick up me.]
Cecilia ended the call.
Twenty minutes later, a black Lamborghini pulled up outside the villa.
"Cecilia, baby!"
Rebecca launched herself forward and wrapped her in a huge hug.
"Forget one night. You can live with me forever if you want."
She was the only daughter of the Wilson Group. Her family built their empire through real estate. Housing was the last thing she lacked.
"So what the hell happened tonight?" Rebecca buried her nose against Cecilia's neck and sniffed.
"You've still got cooking smell on you. Don't tell me you were still cooking for that idiot?"
That warmth hug, that familiarity hug... Cecilia's nose stung.
"Let's talk in the car."
---
In the passenger seat, Cecilia calmly explained what happened at the villa.
She was composed.
Rebecca definitely wasn't.
"Unbelievable. Megan ditched him on their wedding day and disappeared, and this clown still stayed loyal?! Now he dumps you to take her back? They deserve each other."
She ranted nonstop.
"And his parents? Disgusting. You served them tea, cooked their meals, took care of them like actual family, and for what? They're no better than he is."
Cecilia leaned back against the seat.
"We're done. Completely."
She stared out the window at the rushing city lights.
For three years, to match Jacob's taste, she'd stopped wearing heels, tied up her hair, dressed in dull, simple clothing.
All to imitate Megan.
And still, she could never compete with the woman he considered his "forever person."
"Cecilia, it's them who didn't deserve you," Rebecca said softly, her eyes going red.
"Divorce takes time to heal. Stay with me as long as you want. We're basically sisters anyway."
Cecilia smiled faintly.
"Okay."
She had no family. No blood relatives. She grew up in an orphanage.
But Rebecca had treated her like one.
---
They soon arrived at a private beauty studio.
As they got out, Rebecca snapped her fingers.
"Marry! We've got work!"
Cecilia rubbed her temples.
"I'm exhausted. I don't want a makeover tonight."
"Oh come on. That cheating couple is off living their best drama-filled life together. You're really going to keep dressing plain and 'pure' for a man who doesn't deserve you?"
"...No."
"Exactly." Rebecca grinned.
"Close your eyes and enjoy. These stylists are French. You're walking out of here as the goddess you actually are."
---
Thirty minutes later—
Everyone was staring at the mirror.
Cecilia had always been beautiful. Sharp features. Striking eyes. But she'd buried herself for years under homemaker routines and exhaustion.
Now, just a light touch of makeup, and she was breathtaking.
Her long, fox-like eyes shimmered with smoky shadow—seductive but not vulgar. A tiny beauty mark drawn near the corner of her eye only amplified the dangerous edge beneath her calm exterior.
Even Rebecca went speechless for a second before blurting:
"Holy hell. She's back. This is the Cecilia I know."
She immediately signaled someone to bring out gowns.
"Pick whatever you want, baby. High-fashion gowns, all yours. I blew a fortune on tonight. Luxury cruise party. Eight male models. Guaranteed unforgettable."
Cecilia waved lazily.
"No interest in men right now."
Rebecca almost choked.
"No interest? It's been three years. You're seriously telling me you haven't had the urge?"
...Of course she had.
Three years of marriage. Jacob refused to touch her, claimed he was "saving himself" for Megan.
So Cecilia was still a virgin.
She wasn't a saint. She had needs.
But she wasn't forcing herself on anyone either.
Rebecca misread her silence as emotional hang-up and went for the kill.
"Okay then. Here's motivation: a bunch of international master perfumers will be there tonight. And the mysterious mastermind behind Maison Étoile Parfums is rumored to be attending too. Don't you want to finally see him?"
Maison Étoile—top fragrance giant in the U.S.
Back then, Cecilia had competed against its CEO at an international perfumery competition. The scents he crafted were... uncanny. Strangely familiar. Almost like something her biological mother would've created.
He never revealed his face either. Even after Maison Étoile exploded in popularity, he stayed completely low-profile.
"Let's go," Cecilia said at last.
There was finally a spark of interest in her eyes.
Not just because she'd hacked into Maison Étoile's network before and found absolutely nothing.
But because, deep down—
She had a feeling that man...
might be connected to her mother.
Chapter 3 Someone Wants Trouble
Royal Princess Cruise.
Night lights glittered across the water. People leaned over the rail, admiring the view as the ship neared New York Harbor, when all eyes suddenly locked onto a woman stepping aboard.
A deep ruby silk gown hugged her shape perfectly, the fabric catching the light with every step. The cinched waist flowed down into a long, stunning hemline that made her legs look impossibly long.
Hair swept up. Red dress. Pearl earrings.
Clean. Simple. Devastatingly hypnotic.
"Holy hell—that's the real Queen of Crimson Serpent."
Rebecca stared, completely stunned.
"You spent three years dressing like a nun. Absolute crime against humanity."
Crimson Serpent—that was Cecilia's old codename on missions.
She'd always loved jewel-red tones. She used to dress like this, until Jacob sneered that it "made him sick" and demanded she copy Megan instead.
Cecilia thought, fine. One day when he remembered everything, it would all make sense.
So she played the part of his "forever person," dressed in soft whites, quiet and harmless, living like a shadow of someone else.
Only to be rewarded with one truth:
He just didn't like her.
Cecilia gave a faint, self-mocking smile.
"You're right. Being myself feels better."
She had no idea that on the other side of the deck, Jacob had just arrived, with Megan on his arm.
Uma—a maid stood besides Megan—practically glued herself to Megan's side, smiling like a loyal puppy.
"Miss Oliver, you have no idea how much Sir has missed you all these years, and he rushed overnight to arrange a surprise party for you on this cruise!"
Megan bit her lip gently and shook her head.
"Jacob... you really didn't have to. People will talk."
Jacob squeezed her hand.
"I'm divorced. No one gets to talk anymore."
...
Soon, more and more guests boarded. Cecilia and Rebecca made their way up as well, heading straight to the third level where the main event would be held.
The cruise glowed in retro luxury, like a wild night in Paris. Music thundered from the central stage, people laughing, drinking, dancing like the night would never end.
Rebecca shoved a keycard into Cecilia's hand.
"Baby, enjoy yourself. Those eight male models I booked? Absolute perfection."
Cecilia lifted a brow.
"Pretty sure I'm here for the perfumer."
"No rush. Dinner doesn't start for another hour."
Rebecca winked.
"I already have people watching the Maison Étoile team. Meanwhile, it'd be a crime not to enjoy the evening."
She tilted her chin toward the dance floor.
"Speaking of enjoyment, I'm going to dance with that blond European god."
Cecilia watched the guy wink right back at Rebecca.
She couldn't help laughing.
"Go. I'll be in the right hall."
She wasn't in the mood for men tonight. So she ordered a tequila, found a quiet spot on the opposite deck, and leaned against the rail, letting the sea breeze cool her thoughts.
Of course, some idiots just had to ruin it.
"Damn, look at her. Sitting here alone drinking, must be dying for company."
Cecilia looked up.
Short guy. Sleazy smile. Whistling at her like she was a showpiece.
"If you're lonely, sweetheart, we can keep you company," he said, swaggering forward.
He had four or five guys behind him, all equally trash.
The short one wore a thick gold chain and loaded gemstone rings, which he proudly shoved right toward her face like she should be impressed.
"I've got money. I can— OW—MY HAND!"
Crack.
Cecilia casually twisted his wrist like it was nothing.
She didn't even bother to look at him.
"Leave. Now. That's your one chance."
He froze for half a second... then screamed as pain finally hit.
He'd just been hit. By a woman.
He exploded in rage and grabbed a bottle with his other hand.
"You've got a death wish, huh?! Fine—die for it!"
