A sommelier appears with champagne, pouring two glasses before disappearing as silently as he arrived.

"To new beginnings," Ethan says, raising his glass.


I don't touch mine. "Let's not pretend this is a celebration, Mr. Knight. We're here to negotiate terms."

"Ethan," he corrects. "And yes, we are. But first..." He reaches into his jacket and withdraws a folder, sliding it across the table. "I think you should see this."

Inside are photos—security camera stills from the Archer Hotel five years ago. Me, clearly intoxicated, being helped into the elevator by Nathaniel Pierce. Ethan, equally unsteady, following shortly after with another man I don't recognize. Separate images, not together as Cassandra had claimed.


"Where did you get these?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I have resources," Ethan replies. "When I realized who you were, I had my security team pull every record they could find from that night. The hotel had archived their security footage. These images tell a different story than the one that was circulated about you."


I stare at the photos, emotions I've kept buried for five years threatening to surface. Evidence. Actual evidence that I was set up, that we both were.

"There's more," Ethan continues, his voice gentler now. "Toxicology reports from the hospital where you were taken after collapsing. Traces of Rohypnol in your system. Not enough to trigger standard drug panels, but my team used more sophisticated testing on the preserved samples."

My head snaps up. "How did you get access to my medical records?"

"As I said, I have resources." He doesn't look apologetic. "The hospital administrator is on my board of directors."

Anger flares. "That's a violation of privacy laws."

"Yes," he admits. "But I needed to know the truth. And now I do. We were both drugged that night, Olivia. Set up to destroy your reputation and possibly mine as well, though I was apparently a secondary target."

The first course arrives—delicate scallops with truffle foam—interrupting our conversation. When we're alone again, I find my appetite has vanished.

"Why are you showing me this now?" I ask.

"Because I want you to understand that I know we were both victims," he replies. "And because I'm rejecting both your lawyer's proposal and my own."

I tense. "Meaning?"

"Meaning I have a counter-offer." He sets down his fork, his expression serious. "Marry me."

Despite having planned to make this very proposal myself, hearing it from him catches me off guard. "What?"

"A marriage of convenience," he clarifies. "One year, renewable if we both agree. Leo gets a stable home with both parents. You get financial security and my protection. I get to be a father to my son."

I narrow my eyes, suspicious of how closely his proposal mirrors what I had planned to suggest. "Did Caroline tell you what I was going to propose?"

A flicker of surprise crosses his face. "No. This is my idea. Are you saying you were going to suggest the same thing?"

"Similar terms," I admit cautiously. "Though I doubt our motivations align."

"My motivation is simple," Ethan says. "I want to know my son. I want to give him my name, my protection, everything a father should provide. And I want to do it without subjecting him to a public custody battle that would only hurt him."

"And what about your reputation?" I challenge. "The great Ethan Knight, suddenly married to a woman with a scandalous past and a child he never knew existed? The gossip columns will have a field day."

"Let them," he says dismissively. "I've never cared what people think."

"Your board of directors might feel differently."

"I control the majority share of Knight Industries," he counters. "The board serves at my pleasure, not the other way around."

I take a sip of water, buying time to think. This is what I wanted—to propose a marriage that would give me access to Ethan's world while I execute my revenge against Cassandra and Diana. But having him suggest it first changes the dynamic, makes me wonder what his true motives are.

"What exactly are you proposing?" I ask finally.

"A legal marriage with clear terms," he replies. "You and Leo move into my penthouse. We present a united front to the world. In private, separate bedrooms, separate lives, except where Leo is concerned. After one year, we reassess. If it's not working, we divorce amicably with a generous settlement for you and a co-parenting agreement for Leo."

"And during this year? What are the expectations?"

"Fidelity," he says without hesitation. "At least in appearance. I won't humiliate you with other women, and I expect the same courtesy. We attend necessary social and business functions together. We make decisions about Leo together. Beyond that, your life is your own."

"And if I refuse?"

His expression hardens slightly. "Then we do this the hard way. DNA test in hand, I petition for shared custody immediately. My lawyers are prepared to file tonight."

A threat, thinly veiled. But one I anticipated.

"You'd put Leo through that?" I challenge.

"I don't want to," he says, and I believe him. "But I will not be a part-time father, Olivia. I've missed five years. I won't miss any more."

The main course arrives—perfectly cooked wagyu beef that costs more than most people's weekly salary. We eat in silence for several minutes, the tension between us palpable.

Finally, I set down my fork. "Five hundred thousand dollars."

Ethan raises an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"My annual allowance," I clarify. "Separate from household expenses, which you'll cover. I maintain my own business interests and investments. Leo's primary education decisions remain mine, though we can discuss them. And I want a penthouse in my name as part of the divorce settlement, regardless of how the marriage ends."

He studies me for a long moment. "You've given this considerable thought."

"I'm a businesswoman, Mr. Knight. I don't enter agreements lightly."

"Ethan," he corrects again. "And if we're to be married, even on paper, I expect you to use my name."

"Fine... Ethan." The name feels strange on my tongue after thinking of him as an adversary for so long. "Do we have a deal?"

"Almost." He reaches into his pocket and withdraws a small velvet box. "One more condition."

He opens the box to reveal a stunning emerald-cut diamond ring, at least five carats, set in platinum with smaller diamonds along the band. It's exquisite, and undoubtedly worth a small fortune.

"You'll wear this," he says. "And the wedding band that will match it. If we're doing this, we're doing it properly. No one will question the legitimacy of our marriage."

I stare at the ring, momentarily speechless. I had expected a business transaction, not... this. The ring is too beautiful, too personal for a marriage of convenience.

"It's too much," I say finally.

"It's what my wife would wear," he replies simply. "Take it or leave it, along with my other terms."

I hesitate, then extend my left hand. Ethan slides the ring onto my finger, his touch sending an unexpected current through my body. The diamond catches the candlelight, throwing prisms across the table.

"We have a deal," I say, withdrawing my hand quickly. "I'll have Caroline draw up the papers tomorrow."

"My lawyers already have," Ethan counters, producing another folder. "Standard prenuptial agreement with all the terms we've discussed, plus a few others for your review."

Of course he's already prepared the paperwork. Ethan Knight leaves nothing to chance.

"I'll need time to review this with my lawyer," I say, taking the folder.

"Of course." He signals for dessert. "But I'll need your answer by tomorrow. I've arranged for a civil ceremony at my penthouse tomorrow evening. Small, private, just the necessary witnesses."

I nearly choke on my water. "Tomorrow? That's impossible."

"It's necessary," he insists. "The sooner we establish our family unit, the better for Leo. And for the business deal with Morgan Group—your company acquiring their Asian division will make more sense to the board when they learn you're my wife."

The dessert arrives—a delicate chocolate soufflé with gold leaf. I ignore it, my mind racing. Everything is moving too fast, spinning out of my control.

But isn't this what I wanted? Access to Ethan's world, his resources, his protection while I execute my revenge? A stable environment for Leo with the father he's never known?

"What about Leo?" I ask. "This will be a huge change for him."

"Children are adaptable," Ethan replies. "And we'll make the transition as smooth as possible. He can bring all his favorite things, decorate his room however he likes. I've already started converting the guest wing into a space for him."

Already started. As if my agreement is a foregone conclusion.

"You're very confident," I observe.

"I'm very determined," he corrects. "When it comes to my son, I won't take half measures."

I study him across the table—this man who is essentially a stranger yet irrevocably connected to me through our child. Is he truly motivated only by paternal instinct? Or is there something else driving his insistence on this marriage?

"Why marriage?" I ask bluntly. "Why not just a custody agreement? You must have women lining up to be the next Mrs. Knight. Why complicate your life with me?"

Ethan sets down his spoon, his expression serious. "Because Leo deserves parents who at least appear to be a united front. Because a custody battle would hurt him. And because..." He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "Because I feel responsible for what happened to you five years ago."

"You weren't responsible," I say automatically. "If what you showed me is true, we were both drugged."

"Yes, but you paid the price. Your reputation, your career, your family—you lost everything. I walked away unscathed." His eyes hold mine. "I can't change the past, Olivia. But I can try to make the future better for you and for our son."

The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. This isn't the cold, calculating businessman I expected. There's genuine regret there, genuine concern.

Or is there? Five years of survival have taught me to question every kindness, to look for the hidden agenda behind every generous offer.

"I'll need to talk to Leo," I say finally. "Explain things in a way he can understand."

"Of course." Ethan nods. "I'd like to be there when you do, if you'll allow it."

I consider this, then nod slowly. "Tomorrow morning. Come to our hotel at nine. We'll tell him together."

"Thank you." The relief in his voice seems genuine. "You won't regret this, Olivia."

But I might, I think as he signals for the check. I might regret all of it.

The car ride back to my hotel is quiet, both of us lost in thought. When we arrive, Ethan walks me to the lobby.

"Nine o'clock tomorrow," he confirms. "I'll bring breakfast for Leo. What does he like?"

The question—so normal, so paternal—catches me off guard. "Chocolate chip pancakes," I answer. "And strawberries. He loves strawberries."

Ethan smiles, a genuine smile that transforms his face. "Noted. Goodnight, Olivia."

As I watch him walk away, the diamond on my finger catches the light, reminding me of the bargain I've just struck. A year of my life in exchange for... what? Protection? Revenge? A father for my son?

All of the above, I decide as I ride the elevator to my suite. And perhaps something else I'm not ready to admit, even to myself.

The possibility that in binding Ethan Knight to me through this marriage, I might discover whether he was truly another victim that night—or part of the conspiracy that destroyed my life.

Either way, tomorrow I become Mrs. Ethan Knight. And the next phase of my revenge begins.