“Ms. Garcia sent you these papers, Mr. Donovan. Please sign them.” Carl stared at the documents that Lea Brown, Jasmine’s secretary, slid across the table. His eyes immediately locked on the words written at the top in bold: Divorce Agreement. His brows knitted together. “What is this, Lea? Where is my wife?” he demanded, confusion threading his voice. Lea almost groaned, shaking her head as her gaze bore straight into him. “Can’t you read it? And you know Ms. Garcia is a busy woman. That’s exactly why she sent me here to talk to you,” she replied coolly. Her eyes swept around the small, dimly lit room with thinly veiled disgust. “She’s offering you money, a house, a car—everything you need. That way, when you’re released next year, you won’t suffer.” Carl’s fists clenched on the table. Since his imprisonment a year ago, Jasmine hadn’t visited him—not once. And now, out of nowhere, she wanted to sever ties completely. After everything he had done for her, after all t

Sophia’s sleek black car glided to a stop before Grandsaint’s Hotel—a palace of glass and gold, the kind of place only tycoons, politicians, and ghosts of old money could casually step into. Carl hesitated. His instincts itched at him. This wasn’t his kind of battlefield. But Sophia, naturally, had insisted this was where they would celebrate. “Maybe you should head in first, Sophia,” Carl said, still seated, his tone calm but firm. She frowned immediately. “Why? Aren’t we going in together?” “You know why.” Carl’s eyes flicked toward her. Carl never explained what his work was to her back then. She only knew that he was a man that had a lot of secrets. She hated it, but she understood. His secrets made him utterly captivating, and she loved that. “Fine,” she said, softening her voice. “I’ll go first. But don’t make me wait too long, okay?” Carl gave a small nod. But before she opened the door, Sophia leaned in and kissed his cheek. Carl froze, eyes narrowing at her in surp

Upstairs was a VIP room Sofia had specially reserved at the hotel—lavishly decorated, dripping with wealth. From the floor-to-ceiling windows, one could even see the prison where Carl had been held all year.“If you don’t mind, I can take the necklace,” Sofia’s voice came from behind as she pulled out an ornate chair for Carl. “I know a master craftsman—he’ll have it looking as good as new.”Carl looked at her briefly, then back at the necklace, exhaling as though the weight of it pressed on his chest.“Okay. I appreciate it.” He placed the keepsake in her palm. Sophia tucked it inside her handbag, but her lips pursed when his expression didn’t change. She rolled her eyes. “What’s wrong? Is this about that ‘new brother-in-law’ the kid mentioned earlier?” Carl cleared his throat but stayed silent. It was true. He still couldn’t believe that this was the real reason his wife had left him, thinking he had no money, no power, and tossing him aside without a second thought. His f

Jasmine looked at the woman from head to toe. She looked at Carl. “Who is she, Carl?” Carl sighed. He turned to Sofia, but Jasmine grabbed his arm again. “Don’t you dare turn away from me! Who is she? And why does she interfere with us?” she demanded. Sofia’s eyebrow arched high, her smirk sharp enough to cut glass. “Who am I? This man—” she strode forward and pulled Carl away from Jasmine, linking her arm possessively through Carl’s, “—is with me.” She leaned closer, her voice deliberately sweet. “Sorry for keeping you waiting.” Jasmine’s lips parted in shock. Never in her life had she seen another woman dare approach Carl like that. For years, he had belonged only to her. The sight rattled her in ways she didn’t want to admit. Michael, too, stiffened, a flash of envy sparking in his chest at the sight of the stunning Sofia clinging to Carl’s side. Michael gave a mocking chuckle. “Miss, don’t you know who that man is? He’s an ex-convict!” Sofia only rolled her eyes, tossi

The color drained from Michael’s face as the realization struck him like lightning. This wasn’t just some drunken fool he’d pushed—this was Manuel Smith. No wonder the man’s face had felt so familiar. The weight of his mistake pressed down on him like a vice. He scrambled upright, forcing a trembling smile onto his lips. “M-Mr. Smith! I—I didn’t recognize you right away. I’m sorry. It was all just a misunderstanding.” Manuel’s lips twisted into a cruel smirk. “Misunderstanding? Where’s that courage you flaunted earlier? Come on, bring it out now!” His voice dripped with mockery, loud enough for the crowd to hear. Michael bowed his head repeatedly. “I’m really sorry for not recognizing you, Sir! Sorry!” When silence met his pleas, desperation took over—he began slapping himself across the face, one blow after another. “I’m a fool! Stupid! Forgive me for what I did! I was just trying to protect a friend! I didn’t know who you were!” Jasmine’s heart twisted painfully at the sight. Mic