I caught my husband with his mistress at a luxury island resort, but instead of making a scene, I walked right past him with an $11 billion CEO.

The penthouse terrace caught the afternoon breeze, rustling the linen curtains.

Declan stood by the stone railing, watching the yacht traffic cutting white trails across the blue water. Behind him, Grace sat at an iron table, sipping sparkling water with lime. The stack of legal documents before her had already been initialed, signed, and stamped.

"You’re very quiet," Declan said without turning around.

"I’m just thinking about how simple it all is on paper," Grace said, looking down at the neat rows of legal terminology. "You spend years building a home, choosing paint colors, pretending not to notice the late-night text messages, the lingering scent of floral perfume on shirts... and then it all reduces down to five signatures and a valuation clause."

Declan turned, leaning back against the balustrade, crossing his arms. "Do you regret it?"

Grace looked up, meeting his intense gray eyes. "Regret what? Letting you buy his debt?"

"Regret letting him drown."

"Ethan threw himself into the water," Grace said evenly. "He just expected me to keep swimming under him so he wouldn't get wet."

Declan walked back to the table and sat opposite her. The cold, ruthless billionaire who terrorized Wall Street was completely absent in the way he looked at her.

"When you called me two months ago," Declan said, his voice lowering, "you told me you wanted Vance Enterprises dismantled cleanly. No scandal, no drawn-out trial, just absolute control."

"And you delivered."

"I delivered because you asked," Declan said, his eyes not wavering from hers. "You could have asked for my money ten years ago, Grace. Before you ever let him put a ring on your finger."

A brief flicker of emotion crossed Grace’s face—a ghost of an old, complex history that had existed long before Ethan Vance had entered her life.

"Ten years ago, Declan, you were trying to conquer the world," she said gently. "You didn't have room for a partner. You only had room for soldiers."

"And now?"

"Now," Grace said, resting both hands over her stomach, "I have to protect my child. And that means Ethan cannot be allowed to run this company into federal bankruptcy with his mistresses and his fake shell accounts."

A knock came at the interior door. Marcus Vance stepped onto the terrace, his expression grim.

"They’re here," Marcus said. "Ethan and Vanessa. Ethan looks like he’s ready to kill someone."

"Let him try," Declan said, standing up smoothly. "I brought four former Tier-One operators as our resort escort. If Ethan Vance raises his voice above conversational volume, he’ll spend the rest of his vacation in a French island detention cell."

Grace stood as well, smoothing down the front of her emerald dress.