It was a customary visit.
The next morning, Ashlyn and Valerie arrived at the Robertson residence, bringing a carefully chosen gift for Mr. and Mrs. Robertson.
Throughout the meal, the conversation was a study in faultless decorum. Laughter was polite and perfectly timed, compliments were measured, and not a single word fell out of place.
The lunch concluded smoothly.
Sylvia Robertson smiled warmly. "You two are sweet girls. There's no need to linger with us—why not take the afternoon to yourselves? You're all young, after all."
The others murmured their agreement, and Ashlyn rose with them.
Within moments, the dining room had cleared out.
"Ashlyn." A low voice cut through the quiet. Dylan was suddenly beside her, his expression detached. "Come with me."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked away.
Ashlyn had no choice but to hurry after him.
They made their way to the study on the upper floor.
Dylan closed the door behind them with a casual flick of his wrist.
The latch clicked softly into place.
But the quiet sound sent a jolt of ice through Ashlyn, dragging her back into the horror of her past life.
Whenever Simon deemed her disobedient, his mask of civility would vanish. He would drag her into a room, unbuckle his belt, and lash out. Each strike was a lesson in pain, meant to teach her fear and submission.
Every blow brought a searing, unforgettable agony.
Ashlyn flinched instinctively, taking a sharp step back.
Dylan noticed her reaction and paused, maintaining a careful distance. "Don't worry," he said, his voice even. "I won't lay a finger on you. Some conversations are simply better held behind closed doors."
Ashlyn forced herself to stand her ground, her hand clenching into a fist. "Understood."
The terror Simon had instilled in her was still too close to the surface.
Steadying herself, Ashlyn studied Dylan.
In her previous life, she had seen him only twice.
Once, during the engagement negotiations between their families, and a second time after the car accident that had left him disfigured, wheelchair-bound, and utterly broken.
Even then, she had only glimpsed him from a distance.
Compared to the humiliated man she remembered, the Dylan standing before her now was untouched by tragedy. He embodied the ruthless, decisive reputation that preceded him in the business world.
He stood nearly six-foot-three, with slicked-back hair and a dark dress shirt tucked into tailored slacks. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing powerful, corded forearms.
"What is it?" Ashlyn asked, lowering her gaze.
A chilling thought struck her: if a man this powerful ever decided to hurt her, she wouldn't stand a chance.
Dylan walked to the desk, pulled out a document, and tossed it down in front of her. "Let me be clear. I've agreed to this marriage, but there is no affection between us."
Ashlyn already knew he had someone else.
"I imagine you have your own reasons for agreeing to this," he continued, "circumstances you couldn't control." He slid the document closer to her. "So, until this marriage is dissolved, I expect you to abide by these terms. In public, we will act like a loving couple. In private, I will not touch you or interfere in your life. I expect the same from you."
Ashlyn looked up, her voice sharp with disbelief. "Really?"
Her reaction was decidedly odd.
Dylan arched a brow. "You seem rather eager."
"Not at all." Ashlyn bit her lip, quickly picking up the document and scanning it with care.
The terms were fair and straightforward—mostly standard post-marital considerations.
She found nothing objectionable. Picking up a pen, she moved to sign—then stopped just before the nib touched the paper.
"What is it?" Dylan frowned. "Is something unclear?"
Ashlyn met his gaze. "Just to be clear, Dylan. My research... you won't interfere with that either, will you?"
A corner of Dylan's mouth twitched. "Correct. Once we've played our public roles, our private lives are our own."
Just then, a phone rang.
Dylan answered it, his voice instantly losing its hard edge, replaced by a surprising gentleness. "Don't worry, I'll send someone over now. I'm just finishing up here... I'll head your way soon. Okay."
The transformation was startling. The cold, detached man from moments ago was gone, replaced by someone warm and reassuring.
Whoever was on the other end of the line clearly meant the world to him.
For Ashlyn, this was all the confirmation she needed. A wave of relief washed over her, and with a decisive flick of her wrist, she signed her name on the bottom line.
Dylan hung up, turned, and saw the signed document. He gave a slight nod. "Thank you."
The agreement was in duplicate. She took her copy.
With their business concluded, Dylan tucked his copy away and opened the door, gesturing for her to exit. He was polite, efficient, and clearly in a hurry to leave.
Stepping out of the study, she saw no sign of Simon or Valerie.
Dylan noted, "It seems your sister and Simon have already left. How are you getting home? I can have a car sent around."
He maintained an impeccable, courteous distance. He wasn't being cruel, just clear about their boundaries.
Ashlyn felt a growing sense of ease.
After the years of mental manipulation, gaslighting, and physical abuse she had endured from Simon, a man like Dylan—cold but direct—felt like a lifeline.
With this arrangement, she could finally break free from the Brooks family and immerse herself completely in her research.
And when the time came, divorcing him would be simple. She would finally be free to live on her own terms.
"That won't be necessary." Ashlyn respected the boundary he'd drawn. "I'll call a taxi. Thank you."
Dylan gave a distant nod and walked away without another word.
Ashlyn politely declined the Robertson family butler's offer of a car and made her way out on foot.
As she passed the garden, she heard voices drifting from within.
"Valerie, you can rest assured. I'm not like my brother. His marriage is just a formality to satisfy the family, but my feelings for you are real."
It was Simon's voice.
Ashlyn froze, her breath catching in her throat.
Her fear of Simon was that absolute.
She stood rigid, not daring to move.
Through a gap in the foliage, she could see Simon fastening a necklace around Valerie's throat, his expression impossibly tender.
"Let me put it on for you."
Valerie tilted her head, a slight flush on her cheeks. "Yes."
With her back to him, she missed the way his tender expression hardened into something cold and calculating.
Valerie might be the youngest of the Brooks daughters, but she was currently their father's favorite and stood to inherit a controlling share of the family enterprise.
Securing her would make the Brooks family a powerful ally in his own fight for the Robertson inheritance.
As for Ashlyn?
She was just a bookworm who only knew how to hide in her research.
Valerie touched the necklace at her throat, a sweet, triumphant smile playing on her lips.
In her previous life, she had married Dylan full of hope, believing she could one day win his heart.
But all she had gotten was a cold contract.
That one mistake had led to everything falling apart, and ultimately she had died in childbirth.
So this time, she chose Simon, the gentlest of them.
At the wedding, she would outshine Ashlyn completely.
"It's getting late," Simon said, his gentle smile returning as he faced Valerie again. "Let me take you home."
"Alright." Valerie took his hand, her grip firm and eager.
The two of them left by another path.
Hidden in the shadows, Ashlyn felt her knees nearly buckle. She steadied herself against a nearby stone.
She took a moment to collect herself before heading for the gate, just in time to see Simon opening the car door for Valerie before they both climbed inside.
Through the window, Valerie's gaze found Ashlyn. She shot her a smug, challenging look, her lips curving into a triumphant smile.
She believed that by now, Ashlyn probably had her contract.
This time, Ashlyn won't be the lucky one.
The car drove off.
But as it disappeared, Ashlyn felt nothing but profound relief. In this life, she would never have to be near Simon again.
