Any lingering affection I held for Delia Pruitt died in that moment.
In a few heartbeats, my world shifted on its axis. Delia had dropped her mask completely, using a wedding invitation to twist the knife. The audacity was almost impressive—but instead of pain, cold numbness settled over me.
My expression hardened.
"Fine," I said, voice flat. "I'll be there."
I snatched the invitation and turned on my heel without looking back. The muffled sounds of Delia and Samuel cursing me trailed behind like garbage in the wind.
I exited the villa complex, the iron gates clanging shut behind me. A sleek sedan was already waiting at the curb. The window rolled down, and a slender finger lowered a pair of oversized sunglasses.
"Well, look at you," my sister teased, eyes dancing. "The freshly divorced man. Quite the look."
She laughed—bright, melodic, clashing with my foul mood.
"If Harbor City finds out the Ashford heir was dumped by a gold digger—and that he begged her to stay—the family reputation would be in tatters. You know that, right?"
I shot her a glare. I wanted to snap back, but the fight had drained out of me.
My marriage to Delia hadn't been a grand affair. We'd simply signed papers and celebrated quietly. She always claimed a simple life was all she wanted, that our modest union was her dream wedding. I never expected she'd use her "real" wedding to publicly humiliate me.
"So," my sister asked, tone sharpening, "are you really attending that wretched pair's wedding in three days?"
"They sent a sincere invitation." A chill laced my words. "It would be rude not to show them proper courtesy."
"Delia is truly an idiot." She shook her head. "She had the chance to be matriarch of the Ashford family, yet threw it away for a small-time real estate boss."
My sister was a chatterbox, her nagging constant as a scripture chant.
"Enough," I cut in, opening the car door. "Let's go home."
She immediately switched into theatrical servant mode. "Welcome home, Young Master! Please, enter your carriage."
Three years.
Three long years since I'd set foot in my true home.
Summit Manor. The undisputed crown jewel of Harbor City real estate.
My sister had organized a grand homecoming gala. The hall was packed with titans of industry and local elites, though I recognized few of them. I'd spent my life in the shadows, orchestrating the empire from behind the scenes.
To the public, I was a ghost. They knew the Ashfords had an eldest daughter, whispered about an eldest son, but few had ever seen my face.
"Mr. Ashford?"
A man in his sixties approached, wine glass in hand, face creased in an ingratiating smile. "Your reputation precedes you, but seeing you in person... truly elegant. Outstanding."
I offered a faint smile and raised my glass in acknowledgment.
"I am Gavin Finch, Chairman of Silverhill Corp." He bowed slightly. "To see Mr. Ashford with my own eyes... the honor of a lifetime."
Finch.
I glanced toward the corner of the hall. My sister sat there sipping her wine and raised her glass with a knowing smirk.
Silverhill Corp. The parent company of Silverhill Estates. Samuel Finch's father.
It all made sense. A second-tier real estate boss wouldn't normally make the guest list for a private Ashford banquet. My sister had arranged this. She knew everything. While I'd been playing house with Delia, she'd been watching.
"I've heard much about you, Mr. Finch," I lied smoothly. "The pleasure is mine."
"Oh, Mr. Ashford, you flatter me!" Gavin beamed, practically vibrating. "You are a figure standing in the clouds. For a small household like mine to set foot in Summit Manor... it is a privilege. Since I was fortunate enough to be invited, I've brought a humble gift."
He set his wine glass down and produced a document with both hands, placing it reverently on the table before me.
"A deed to the finest villa in Silverhill Estates. Please, accept it with my compliments."
I barely glanced at the paper.
A villa?
The ground beneath my feet at Summit Manor alone was worth more than his entire company.
Silverhill Corp's entire portfolio consisted of a few scraps of land on the urban fringe. Combined, they weren't worth a single bathroom in Summit Manor.
"Oh, right. Mr. Ashford."
Gavin Finch produced another invitation, offering it with a bow deep enough to strain his back.
"My son is getting married the day after tomorrow," Gavin said, his voice dripping with sycophancy. "It would be an immense honor if you and Miss Ashford could grace my humble home with your presence."
I glanced at Vivienne. Her expression remained neutral, but her eyes danced with sharp, predatory amusement.
I took the card, turning it over in my fingers. "Your son's wedding? I wouldn't miss it. I'll be there to toast his... good fortune."
Gavin beamed, practically vibrating with excitement. "You honor us, Mr. Ashford! I wouldn't dare hope for such a privilege. Your presence alone will make the event legendary!"
"I'll even prepare a surprise," I added, my smile not reaching my eyes. "Something heaven-shaking."
"Mr. Ashford, you coming is gift enough! I wouldn't dare let you spend a dime." Gavin said the polite words, but greed flickered in his gaze. He was already calculating the prestige my attendance would bring.
"If there's nothing else, Mr. Finch, please enjoy the party," I said dismissively.
"Of course, of course." Gavin raised his glass for one last toast before scuttling away to network with the other guests.
Once he was gone, I stared at the property deed he'd left behind. My grip tightened until the paper crinkled.
Vivienne slid into the seat beside me, swirling her wine. "Why bother with the Finchs? They aren't worth the dirt on your shoes."
"Oh, I'm not going for them," I said, my voice dropping to a glacial whisper.
"There's a good show to watch," Vivienne noted, anticipation sharpening her features.
