005. Grace Frame

The breakfast tray sat untouched on the rolling mahogany table across Valerie’s lap. She couldn't eat. Her eyes were fixed on the clean, thick stack of cream-colored paper Killian had just placed in front of her.

At the very top, embossed in heavy gold ink, were the words: MARRIAGE AGREEMENT.

Valerie looked up, her heart hammering against her ribs. Killian stood at the foot of the bed, his hands clasped casually behind his back. He was fully dressed now in a dark, tailored midnight-blue suit that emphasized his broad shoulders, his hands covered securely in a fresh pair of black leather gloves. The intense warmth from his bare hand the night before felt like a hallucination.

"A marriage contract?" Valerie’s voice was barely a whisper. "Are you insane? I finalized my divorce from Damian less than twelve hours ago."

"Exactly," Killian said flatly, his dark eyes fixed on her pale face. "Which means you are currently a legal free agent. And you are also completely destitute."

The cold truth of his words hit her like a physical blow. Valerie looked down at her hands, her throat tightening. "So you want to buy me? To use me as some kind of trophy to mock the Vance family?"

"I don't play petty corporate games, Valerie," Killian said, taking a step toward the side of the bed. "This is a transaction. I require a wife to satisfy my family’s board of trustees by the end of the month, and I require you specifically for reasons of my own comfort." He glanced briefly at his gloved hands, his jaw tightening. "In exchange, I am offering you absolute protection. And absolute retaliation."

Valerie scoffed, a bitter, breathless sound. "I don't want another man controlling my life."

"Flip to page three," Killian commanded smoothly.

Valerie hesitated, then reached out with trembling fingers and turned the page. Her eyes scanned the crisp text, widening with every line she read.

"You keep 100% control over your personal autonomy," Killian narrated, his voice calm and methodical. "You will have a separate wing in this villa. I will not demand your bed. More importantly, look at clause four."

Valerie’s breath caught in her throat.

"Upon signing," Killian continued, leaning forward slightly, "a private trust fund containing fifty million dollars will be immediately opened in your name. Full, unrestricted legal ownership of your mother’s inheritance shares, which my legal team is already forcibly extracting from Vance Enterprises as we speak, will be restored to you. And finally, I am funding your own independent jewelry design house. You will answer to no one. Not even me. Unless you wish to.”

Valerie stared at the numbers on the page, her head spinning. It was a lifeline. It was more than a lifeline—it was an empire handed to her on a silver platter. "Why would you give me all of this? What do you get out of a sexless, loveless marriage with a woman the city thinks is ruined?"

"I get you," Killian said, his voice dropping into a deep, gravelly register that made her skin prickle. "And I get the satisfaction of watching Damian Vance realize what he threw away. The moment the public sees my ring on your finger, Vance Enterprises' stock will plummet. The banks will panic. Their investors will pull out."

He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a heavy gold pen, and placed it gently on top of the documents.

"You have two choices, Valerie," Killian said, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a piercing intensity. "You can walk out of those gates in the clothes my staff bought you, with zero dollars in your pocket, and try to fight a billionaire mogul who has already erased your existence. Or, you can sign that paper."

He took one step closer, his towering shadow falling over her.

"Sign it," Killian whispered, his voice dripping with a dangerous, intoxicating promise. "And let me give you the power to break him."