LOGINKirrily's POVThe revelation hung in the air like ozone after a lightning strike."If you and Lachlan had split cleanly, your shared assets would have been exposed in public courts. I knew you were framed. I didn't have proof at the moment of your exile, but I knew the timing was too convenient to be organic.""How?" I asked. "How could you possibly know?""Because I've spent forty years reading people," Bronte said. "And because the evidence against you was too perfect. Too clean. Real corporate espionage leaves loose ends, mistakes, and traces. The dossier Callan presented to Lachlan was flawless. Every account, every transaction, every digital footprint aligned perfectly. That's not how real crimes work. That's how fabricated ones work."I stared at her, stunned. "You suspected Callan from the beginning?""I suspected everyone," Bronte corrected. "Callan. The board members. Even Lachlan's closest advisors. But I couldn't move against them without proof. So I did what I could. I st
Kirrily' POVShe hesitated for a while and finally answered my question. Kirrily, it means everything," Bronte said. "It means Toby is the legitimate heir to the Vance empire. It means that you have legal authority over half of Lachlan's assets. It means the board can't move against either of you without triggering a legal nightmare that would expose their corruption."She paused, her eyes meeting mine."And it means that Callan Sterling's entire plan is about to collapse very soon."The name hit me like a punch to the gut. "Callan? What does Callan have to do with this?"Bronte's expression darkened. "Everything, Kirrily, Callan has been plotting to take over the whole company. He have been planning this takeover for over thirty years. He's the one who planted the evidence against you. He's the one who manipulated Lachlan into signing those papers because Lachlan trusted him, he believed him. And he's the one who's been quietly buying up Vance shares through his father's old comp
The Undone FilingKirrily's POVBronte leaned back slowly, the leather chair groaning under her weight, and folded her manicured fingers on top of the desk. For the first time since I had entered the family orbit, the matriarch looked her age. Not weak, never weak, but heavily burdened by a secret she had carried alone while the world burned around her."You'll understand, Kirrily, if you look past the preliminary headings and drop your eyes to the clerk's signatures at the bottom of the third page," Bronte said quietly.My eyes dropped back to the papers scattered across the desk. I flipped past the painful clauses of Lachlan and my separation agreement, the division of properties, and the cold legal language that had cut me from his life. I searched for the final court filing stamp, the official seal that should have legally ended our marriage.It wasn't there.I blinked hard, rubbing my eyes. In place of the judge's signature, a bold red stamp crossed the bottom corner: WITHHELD /
Bronte didn't answer immediately. She watched me, her gaze holding a strange mix of regret and certainty. The rain lashed harder against the glass, but inside, time seemed to stop. I stared at the documents, my mind racing through years of pain, trying to understand why the matriarch of the family that cast me out would hand me the relics of my execution.The folder felt impossibly heavy in my hands. Each page represented a wound that had never fully healed. The legal language was cold and clinical, reducing the destruction of my marriage to a series of clauses and subparagraphs. Property division. Non-disclosure agreements. Termination of spousal rights.I wanted to throw the folder across the room. I wanted to scream at Bronte for daring to reopen this wound. But something in her expression stopped me. She wasn't gloating. She wasn't trying to hurt me. She looked like a woman carrying a burden too heavy for any single person to bear."Sit down, Kirrily," Bronte said softly. "You'
The DossierKirrily's POVThe rain beat against the tall windows of Bronte Vance's penthouse office, matching the heavy tension in the air. Outside, the Sydney skyline was swallowed by grey storm clouds, the city's usual brightness muted into a watery blur. Inside, I stood near the windows, my shoulders squared, every part of me braced for a fight.For over four years, Bronte Vance had been an unyielding fortress of the family dynasty. Cold, calculated, ruthlessly protective of the Vance name and its empire. I had walked into this building expecting a war. I expected shouting, security guards, legal threats, and a swift execution. The matriarch had never once shown me an ounce of genuine warmth, not even during the early days of my marriage to her son Lachlan, when I still naively believed I could earn her approval.I remembered those early days with painful clarity now. The stiff formal dinners where Bronte would barely acknowledge my presence. The cold assessments of my wardrobe, m
Kirrily Archer POVThe moment shattered. The romantic tension vanished, replaced by a surge of icy adrenaline.Lachlan moved fast. Despite his bleeding hand and freezing body, he lunged forward, grabbed my waist, and pulled me into the dark hallway toward Toby's room."Stay here," he commanded, his voice a lethal whisper. He grabbed the iron poker from the hearth, his jaw set like granite as he positioned himself between the hallway and the front door.My heart pounded. Callan's men had found us.But there was no explosion. No tactical breach.Instead, three sharp knocks sounded on the door, followed by the sound of a key sliding into the deadbolt.A key?The door swung open, letting a blast of freezing rain into the entryway.It wasn't a tactical team.Bronte Vance stepped into my cottage. The matriarch of the Vance empire looked as perfect as she did in the boardrooms of Martin Place. She wore a white cashmere coat, unmarked by mud, her silver-blonde hair styled flawlessly, her blue







