The chill of the morning seemed to settle in Rose’s bones, though the sun was just beginning to warm the opulent room. “Let’s get a divorce,” Jay Ares had stated, his voice as cold and emotionless as the marble floor beneath her feet.

He offered money, a job, a doctor for her mother, but his gaze held no warmth, only a dismissive arrogance that sliced through her. Rose fought desperately to hold back the tears that pricked at her eyes, tears born of a love that spanned two lifetimes, a love he had never acknowledged.

“I didn’t marry you for money,” she whispered, the words barely audible. His skepticism was palpable, a silent judgment that she was just another gold-digger. As he rose, taking a final sip of coffee before turning to leave, a flicker of stubborn resolve ignited within her.

She watched him go, then her gaze fell on the forgotten coffee cup. Half an hour later, standing demurely at the door of his study, she uttered a word she had been forbidden to use for a year. “Husband!” The word hung in the air, a challenge, a plea, a promise.