Chapter 4: The Architect of Ruin

**Finnian's POV**

I steamed as I descended the grand marble staircase, my pulse thrumming in my neck. 

I don't fucking know why she does it. Why does she always have to question my authority? Why was it so hard to always say, “Yes, Finn,” and “Okay, Finn”?

I give her everything: a life she could only dream of. Yet she always finds a way to push me, to prick at my patience until I have to react, making me act crazy. She forces my hand, and then she has the audacity to look at me with those beautiful, wide, wounded eyes as if I were the villain in her story.

I reached the foyer and pulled my phone from my pocket. My thumb swiped across the glass as I called the garage. "Get to the foyer. Immediately!"

A minute later, James, the driver, appeared. I looked him over with a flicker of satisfaction. 

James was exactly what a servant should look like: invisible and unthreatening. He was middle-aged, with a receding hairline, a bulbous nose, and a permanent slouch that made him look smaller than he was.

When I first married Leylie, I did a complete sweep of the household staff. I fired every driver, gardener, and security detail under forty. I didn't need some young, broad-shouldered pup standing around, tempting my wife’s wandering eyes.

I surrounded her with the old, the ugly, and the loyal. It preserved the sanctity of my home.

"You will take my wife to her mother’s place," I ordered, not bothering to meet his gaze. "You must wait for her. Once she is done, you will bring her back here directly. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," James bowed, voice low.

Just then, I heard the soft click of heels on the tiles. I turned to see Leylie coming down the stairs, dressed in a flowing, floor-length black gown with a high neck and long sleeves, as if she were heading to a funeral.

My lip curled in anger. She loved to get on my nerves with her silent protests, but I didn't have time for her games this morning. I had real business to attend to.

"He will take you and bring you back. Spend only one hour!" I snapped at her, my voice cold as I stepped closer, catching the scent of the perfume I’d bought for her. "If I hear that you branched off somewhere, you won’t like me, Leylie. Do I make myself clear?"

She didn't answer, only giving a slight, submissive nod.

Satisfied, I walked out the door.

*****

The Thorne estate was a fortress of old money, nestled behind iron gates and a mile of manicured hedging.

As I stepped into the living room of my family home, the familiar scents of vanilla and fresh-cut flowers hit me. It was bigger than my own house, with vast hallways filled with oil paintings of men who looked just like me, only with slightly more hair.

"You are here early, Finnian," a voice rang out, sharp and melodic.

My mother, Jacqueline Thorne, sat in the solarium, wrapped in a Chanel suit the color of bone, her silver-blonde hair pulled back into a bun so tight it seemed to lift her eyebrows. She didn't look up from the book she was reading.

I settled into the chair opposite her, its deep emerald velvet feeling like moss against my suit. "I have an important meeting later today, Mother," I said, adjusting my tie. "So, what was so urgent that you needed to see me?"

She finally closed her book, folding her manicured hands over the cover, and stared at me with eyes that saw through every lie. "It’s about that... thing in your house."

I rolled my eyes, leaning back into the chair. 

"When are you going to divorce her, Finnian? It’s been four years already. Wasn't yesterday your anniversary? The charade has gone on long enough."

"Mother, it’s going to happen soon," I replied, my voice sounding bored. "The lawyers are already drafting the papers. These things require precision."

"Don't waste any more time with her," she snapped, her voice losing its melodic quality. "Before she contaminates you with her poverty. It was meant to be a three-year contract marriage, a means to an end. I still don't understand why you didn't make her sign the papers from the start. At least she would have known the marriage was temporary."

"You know why, Mother," I said, a small, arrogant smirk playing on my lips. "I don't think she would have gone through with it if she knew it was a business deal. She fell in love with me, deeply and desperately. The contract would have spoiled the... devotion. I needed her to believe in the fairy tale so I could control the narrative."

"Whatever," she waved a hand dismissively, the diamonds on her fingers catching the light. "Blair Sterling is returning to the country next month. I want that divorce finalized by then. Your marriage to the Sterling heiress must take place immediately. It’s the only way to solidify the merger and restore the Thorne name to its rightful place."

"I know, Mother. I’m taking care of it."

She squinted at me, her gaze sharpening. "I hope there is no way that... trash... could be pregnant? A child would complicate everything."

"Of course not," I said, the image of Leylie’s broken expression from the night before flashing through my mind. "I always used protection. I’m not a fool."

"Good," she said, finally leaning back. "I want no loose ends. This deal must go through."

I bade her farewell, the conversation leaving a bitter taste of ambition in my mouth as I got into my car and instructed the driver to head to the office.

Then my mind drifted back to four years earlier.

My father’s will was a noose. He believed I wasn't responsible enough to lead the company because I spent my nights in the beds of socialites and models. To inherit, I had to prove I was a family man and stay married for at least three years.

I had gone in search of a girl who was desperate and vulnerable, someone I could mold and discard when the time was right.

And then I saw Leylie.

I wouldn't lie; I was captivated. She was, and still is, the most breathtaking woman I have ever laid eyes on. She had a purity about her that didn't belong in that club.

When I found out she was a virgin, it was like finding a diamond in a dumpster. I knew she would be perfect for the role, but when I learned she was already head-over-heels for me, I realized I didn't even need a contract.

Why give her legal leverage when I could use her heart as a leash? She loved her mother, her sister, and me, in that order. Any threat to them left her shaking like a leaf, exactly where I wanted her.

I knew I was getting too attached to her; after all, I was supposed to divorce her last year. But before I handed her the divorce papers, I urgently needed her to do something important for me, and I knew exactly how to get her to do it.

I turned to look out the window as the car sped through the city, thinking about the Sterling merger and my future, when my heart skipped a beat.

"Stop the car," I barked.

"Sir?" the driver asked, confused.

"I said stop the fucking car!"

I rolled down the window, my blood beginning to boil.

Standing on the curb just beside her mother's apartment was a woman in a long black dress.

It was Leylie.

But she wasn't alone. She was standing far too close to a man, a tall, broad-shouldered stranger I didn't recognize. They were talking, their heads bent close together.

The rage that hit me was blinding. She was supposed to be with her mother.

I quickly pulled out my phone and dialed her foolish driver's number. "James," I hissed, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the door handle. "Explain to me why my wife is standing on a public street, talking to a stranger."