THE KASTELLAN HEIR.

MARRIAGE IN RUINS.

Ronan couldn’t accept what stood right in front of him.

Vivienne? She was supposed to be on the other side of the country handling business. That was the excuse she’d given four days earlier before walking out the door. He hadn’t misunderstood her that day; the memory stuck in his mind like a splinter. What confused him more was how close she stood beside Preston. Why were the two of them practically touching? What was going on here?

He pushed himself up from his chair, his knees unsteady beneath him. “Vivienne? Why are you here?” His voice trembled, and no matter how tightly he clenched his teeth, he couldn’t stop it.

She let out a heavy breath, her expression twisting into irritation. “Believe me, coming here wasn’t my plan, Ronan. But you kept pushing after my mother and brother came by, so I decided to deal with it myself. That’s why I’m standing here.”

“I’m lost. Deal with what? And how did you get here so fast?” Ronan asked, avoiding Preston’s gaze entirely, the same man he’d answered to at work for over a year now. “Coleman mentioned something about you staying at someone’s house.”

“Enough, Ronan,” Vivienne cut in, her tone sharpening.

“Enough? What was Coleman talking about? Why did you come here, and why does Preston have his arm practically around you?” His words came out louder now, edging toward panic. His gaze bounced between the woman he’d built a life around and the man who controlled his paycheck.

Everything around him seemed to freeze. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes, half-convinced he was imagining things. Preston slid an arm around Vivienne’s middle and drew her against him. This was Ronan’s own wife, tucked beneath his employer’s arm like some kind of trophy.

“Just sign it, Ronan,” she said flatly. “Make this easier for everyone and get it over with. Trust me, you don’t want to drag this out.”

“Drag what out? Where the hell were you all this time? At his place? Preston, you knew damn well she was married to me!” The accusation tore out of Ronan’s throat, his voice splintering.

“He’s right, Ronan,” Preston said, sounding unbothered, almost casual. “Honestly, though, you were never going to be enough for her. She deserved someone who could actually give her something real.”

“Did you honestly think this would last forever?” Vivienne added. “We come from completely different worlds. I never wanted this marriage to begin with. Do you even remember how it happened?”

Ronan’s thoughts spun wildly. Of course he remembered. Her grandfather had handpicked him as her husband after Ronan pulled the old man from the brink of death. Back then, it felt like a blessing; he’d poured every part of himself into loving her. Even through the closed bedroom doors, even through her constant rejection, he told himself patience would fix everything eventually. Their marriage had always balanced on a knife’s edge, and once her grandfather passed, that balance collapsed entirely. Every promise she’d made to the dying man got discarded like garbage.

“You’ve forgotten I saved your grandfather’s life?” he asked, feeling something inside him crack open.

She shrugged like it meant nothing. “Sure, you saved him. Doesn’t matter now, does it? He’s gone, and whatever debt that created died with him.” Her expression stayed flat, uninterested. “Take a good look at yourself, Ronan. You’re broke. You’re beneath what I need. You can barely support yourself, forget about supporting me. I need someone who wins, someone who hands me the life I’ve earned.”

She shifted toward Preston, her face softening into something warm and affectionate that made Ronan’s insides churn. Rising onto her toes, she kissed him slowly, deliberately, and every second of it felt like a blade twisting in Ronan’s chest. “Preston gives me that. He’s everything I actually wanted.”

Tears gathered in Ronan’s eyes, though he fought to keep them from spilling in front of these two. Fury built low in his stomach, hotter than anything he’d felt before. Part of him wanted to grab her by the throat. “But he’s my—” His voice cracked apart. “That’s my boss you’re kissing, Vivienne?”

Seeing how naturally they fit together, the reality finally landed. He’d been played for a fool. This wasn’t a recent thing; she’d been betraying him for a long, long stretch of time.

“Not your boss anymore,” Preston said, no emotion in it at all. Ronan stared, stunned. “You’re done here, Ronan. Sign the paperwork, pack your desk, and don’t come back.”

Ronan couldn’t process it fast enough. His marriage and his career, both gone within the same sixty minutes. What was even left for him?

Outside, dark clouds swallowed the sun whole. Seconds later, rain began pounding against the window glass. It was over, and the storm outside seemed to mourn alongside him. He’d lost everything that mattered.

Defeated, he grabbed the pen. His signature landed on the page in shaky strokes, and a single tear dropped, smudging the wet ink beneath it. The instant it dried, Vivienne yanked the paper away, stuffing it into her bag before wrapping herself back around Preston.

“Perfect. Leave now,” Preston barked.

Ronan looked at Vivienne one final time, struggling to understand how someone could turn so cold. He shoved his few things into a small bag, the weight of it all crushing his chest. Walking past his old coworkers, he caught every mocking glance thrown his way.

“Pathetic,” someone murmured. “Didn’t even put up a fight.”

“What could he have done? Gotten flattened? A broke nobody standing against the boss? Ronan’s got nothing. Leaves the same way he showed up, empty-handed.”

The storm showed no mercy outside. It soaked through him the moment he hit the sidewalk. Water blurred his vision through fogged-up lenses, but he pushed forward anyway, wandering without direction through the flooding streets.

Twenty minutes into his aimless walk, screeching tires yanked him back to reality. He froze mid-step.

Wiping rain from his glasses, he squinted ahead. His pulse stopped. A row of the most expensive vehicles he’d ever laid eyes on blocked the street. Six Rolls-Royces sat there, alongside four Bentleys, two Jaguars, and a pair of Aston Martins. But nothing compared to the car parked at the very front, a Bugatti Chiron that stole the air from his lungs.

Men in tailored suits and sunglasses stood beside the cars, completely indifferent to the downpour soaking them. Something about their stone-cold expressions made fear spike through him. He began stepping backward, certain he’d walked into danger, until an elderly man wearing a hat moved forward from the group.

A bodyguard held an umbrella above the old man, clearly marking him as the one in charge. Ronan spun to bolt, but the man’s voice froze him in place.

“Stay where you are,” the man ordered. Authority filled every word, a kind of respect Ronan had never encountered before. “You’re the man we’ve searched for. Years spent scouring every corner of this earth for you. And at last, young master, you’ve been found.”

Ronan stood motionless, questioning whether he’d heard correctly. Shock spread across his face as the old man lifted the hat from his head and bent into a deep bow. Every guard behind him mirrored the gesture instantly, bowing as one.

None of this made any sense.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​