If we had truly married, he would have been the one advancing. Even without ever working, I would still live better than most. The influential and wealthy people would recognize me for who I am, and it wouldn't be him they admired.

So I didn't waste another second on his ridiculous "offer."

I typed: [Go away!]

Hit send.

For a moment, I thought that would be the end of it.

Of course, I was wrong.

To my astonishment, Oliver arrived at my home that evening with four bodyguards.

My doorbell kept ringing like an alarm repeatedly.

I slowly opened the door, only to find him standing there with a dark, furious face, surrounded by four men in black who all radiated hostility.

Oliver gave me this smug, entitled look.

"Therese," he sneered, "did you really think hiding out at home was going to save you?"

Without waiting for me to say a thing, he pushed past me and barged into the house like he owned it.

I leaned against the doorframe with my arms crossed, not even bothering to stop him.

He stalked through the living room, eyes scanning everything—the marble sculptures on the shelves, the antique porcelain, the calligraphy, the paintings.

With each glance, Oliver's expression grew more sour.

"Huh," he finally scoffed. "Now it makes sense. No wonder you had the nerve to max out my card. Guess you've had some top-tier sugar daddies coaching you all this time."

He pointed toward a shelf, a familiar mocking grin spreading across his face.

"How many men did you scam to fill this place up like a damn museum?"

I raised an eyebrow and said nothing.

Then Oliver strutted over to the coffee table, picked up a blue-and-white porcelain teacup as if it were a dirty sock, and sneered.

"So, all this stuff in your house is just fake junk to keep up appearances, huh?" Oliver scoffed, holding up the porcelain teacup like it personally offended him. "Gotta say, though, they're decent imitations. But that glaze? Way too fresh. Obvious knockoff."

I let out a quiet, amused laugh. "Good eye, Oliver."

Which was funny, because that teacup?

Ironically, it was the only fake thing in this entire place.

But Oliver didn't catch the irony. Of course not. He took my words as mockery, and his expression went ice-cold all over again.

"Therese, I don't have time for this." His tone turned sharp, clipped. "You've got two options today. Pay back the $500 grand and sign these agreements, or the engagement is officially over."