Only Skye knew just how "manly" Trace Ryan truly was. The man was a force of nature, and last night had been wilder than any rollercoaster ride she'd ever been on.
"Maybe... my charm isn't quite enough yet," Skye mused, a hint of defiance in her smile. "But that's fine. I'll win him over—eventually."
"Want me to track down his social media, see what he's up to? I could even set up a little 'coincidental' run-in," Annika Carpenter offered, her voice practically buzzing with eagerness. As one of the top hackers in her university's computer science program, she was more than ready to pull some strings.
Skye's eyes turned thoughtful. "There are gaps in Trace's past—before he rejoined the Ryan family. I've always suspected he deliberately wiped them clean. Annika, dig into that for me..."
Annika didn't hesitate. "Don't worry, Skye. I've got this. I'll sort it out for you."
After hanging up, Skye's beautiful eyes glinted with determination. If Trace wasn't willing to make a move, then she would. Winning over this man was just a matter of time.
About an hour later.
Skye arrived at her sister Mae's hospital room, carrying a thermos of homemade chicken soup. Just as she was about to push the door open, a man's harsh voice cut through the air from inside.
"Mae, you've got some nerve. Didn't even tell me about the miscarriage. If Dr. White hadn't called, were you planning to hide it forever? Do I mean nothing to you?"
Skye stopped dead in her tracks, her gaze freezing over.
Inside, Mae Carr lifted her swollen, tear-filled eyes to look at her husband, Bryce Carr, who stood looming over the side of her bed like he owned the place. Her voice came out flat, hollow. "Bryce, did you remember you were my husband while you were fooling around with other women?"
A flicker of panic crossed Bryce's face—but he recovered quickly, puffing up his chest. "Mae, even after your family went bankrupt, I still married you out of old affection. I gave you the title of Mrs. Carr. What more do you want?"
He said it with an air of arrogant superiority, not an ounce of guilt in his eyes. Mae's heart twisted painfully, like a swarm of tiny ants gnawing at her already battered soul. Was this the man she'd once been so desperate to marry?
Swallowing every emotion, Mae spoke calmly. "Bryce, I want a divorce."
His sneer barely hid his surprise. "Mae, you'd better think carefully. Divorce me, and you'll be left with nothing."
In his mind, with the Montgomeries' downfall, Mae was nothing but a has-been without him. No matter how beautiful she was, the upper echelons wouldn't dare touch her. He was convinced Mae would never actually go through with it.
"I've thought it through." Mae's expression was eerily calm. "In three days, when I'm discharged, we'll file for divorce."
Bryce's smirk twisted into an ominous shadow. He could hardly believe that Mae, who had clung so desperately to their marriage, was now resolutely demanding a divorce. Mae was only twenty-three, her face still full of youthful vibrancy, her features delicate and lovely. She was far more beautiful than any woman he'd ever dallied with on the side.
But as they say, the one thing you can't have is always the most tempting. He preferred women with a little wild streak. To him, men straying was normal—he saw nothing wrong with his affairs. Yet Mae's insistence on divorce infuriated him.
"Mae, remember the prenup. If we divorce, you won't get a single penny!" he shot back, expecting her to cave. After all, the Montgomery family had collapsed; there was no returning to her former glory.
For the first time, Mae looked at the man she had once shared a bed with and found him utterly unrecognizable. How blind had she been to think such a man could give her lifelong happiness?
From the doorway, a clear, sharp voice cut in. "Bryce, you'd better remember it was Mae's dowry that secured your first big deal, and the Montgomery connections that got you into high society. Who exactly gave you this sense of superiority? You think you're some big shot from a rock band?"
Bryce turned to see Skye stride in, thermos in hand. In the heat of summer, she, like Mae, wore a simple tank top. Her long, wavy hair cascaded down her back, giving her a fresh, almost ethereal beauty. The Montgomery sisters were famous in high society for their looks. If Mae was the delicate, fragile type, Skye was aggressively striking. And he definitely liked this type.
Regaining his composure, Bryce asked, "Skye, what do you mean?"
Skye placed the thermos on the bedside table and gave him a mysterious smile. "My sister doesn't want a penny from you—but you'll be coughing up every cent of that ten million dowry. Plus interest."
Bryce's voice rose defensively. "You just said it was a dowry."
Skye's lips curved into a taunting smirk. "Bryce, I seem to recall a clause in the prenup prohibiting infidelity. You've violated that. Which means my sister has the right to reclaim her entire dowry—or take half your assets in the divorce. Care to choose?"
Bryce's face darkened with fury. He'd always known Skye wasn't a pushover, but he never expected she'd already set this trap. Yet he quickly sneered, "That's assuming you can afford a good lawyer."
With that, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
Skye watched him go, her gaze darkening. Bryce's implication was crystal clear: even if they had the upper hand, he had the money to hire the best lawyers and win the case. People often cared only about results, not the truth. Her father had been wrongfully imprisoned under similar circumstances.
Her fingers tightened with resolve. This time, she would not let her sister be bullied by this scoundrel.
Masking her thoughts, Skye picked up the thermos with a serene smile. "Sis, I made some chicken soup for you. Try it."
She scooped up a spoonful and brought it to Mae's lips. But Mae, worry clouding her eyes, said, "Skye, we can't win against Bryce."
Over the past year, she had seen how the Carr family operated—how Bryce operated. Getting back that ten million dowry was like trying to grab the moon. She didn't want any more entanglements with him; she just wanted to escape and put as much distance between them as possible.
Skye set the thermos aside, pinning Mae with a steady gaze. "Sis, I know what's worrying you. But that dowry was swindled from you, and we're going to get it back."
Mae lowered her eyes silently. "But Skye, we don't have the money for a good lawyer..."
"Sis!" Skye took Mae's hand in hers, her voice more determined than ever. "The Montgomeries might have fallen, but we sisters can't. If we keep backing down, they'll just keep pushing us around. Haven't you learned that lesson yet?"
