Chapter 436
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Chapter 436:
A notorious Upper East Side socialite known for her icy demeanor and ruthless corporate maneuvering, she wore a pristine ice-white Chanel haute couture suit. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a severe, flawless chignon. Her eyes were as cold and dead as a shark’s.
Kieran forced his heavy limbs to move. He rose slightly and offered a stiff, mechanical nod.
Isabelle didn’t look at him. She snapped her fingers at the waiter, ordered a dry martini, and then turned her razor-sharp gaze on Kieran.
“Let’s skip the pleasantries, Douglas,” Isabelle said, her voice flat and devoid of warmth. “I know your company is a sinking ship. You need the Sterling family’s cash injection to keep the SEC off your back p>
Kieran’s jaw clenched. The disrespect burned, but he had no leverage. He remained silent.
“And I,” Isabelle continued, taking a sip of her martini, “need a husband with a recognizable pedigree to repair my public image after my recent boardroom scandals. I need a puppet p>
She reached into her designer handbag and produced a thick, bound legal document, which she tossed onto the center of the table. It landed with a heavy, depressing thud.
“This is the prenuptial agreement,” Isabelle stated coldly. “Our finances will remain completely segregated. You will have zero voting rights in my family’s holdings. We will attend exactly four charity galas per month to project a united front. We will sleep in separate wings of the house p>
Kieran stared down at the document.
A violent, agonizing memory flashed behind his eyes.
𝖲𝘢𝘃e 𝗒𝗼u𝗿 𝘧𝗮𝗏𝗼ri𝗍𝖾 ո𝗈v𝘦𝗅s 𝗈𝘯
A tiny, cramped apartment, five years ago. Jocelyn sitting cross-legged on a cheap rug wearing one of his oversized t-shirts, laughing with her eyes shining with pure, unconditional adoration as she handed him a slice of burnt toast. They had spent ten minutes giggling over it, scraping the blackened char into the sink together. She hadn’t cared about his money. She hadn’t cared about his pedigree. She had simply loved him.
And he had thrown her away — traded her warm, beating heart for Aspen’s manufactured prestige, and now he was trading his own soul for Isabelle’s cold cash.
A wave of intense nausea hit his stomach. Acid burned the back of his throat. The sheer, terrifying reality of his punishment finally crushed him completely. This was his life now. A sterile, loveless business transaction. A golden cage.
“Sign it,” Isabelle said, tapping her manicured nail against the document. “Or I walk out that door and your family goes bankrupt by Friday p>
Kieran’s hand trembled. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out his Montblanc pen, flipped to the back of the document without reading a single page, and scrawled his name on the dotted line.
He felt his soul detach from his body entirely.
Isabelle snatched the document back, a cold, victorious smirk on her lips. “Pleasure doing business with you, fiancé p>
Kieran couldn’t breathe. The air in the restaurant was suffocating him.
He shoved his chair back so hard it tipped over and crashed to the floor. He didn’t apologize. He turned and walked out of the restaurant, bursting through the glass doors and onto the freezing sidewalk bordering Central Park.
The cold wind whipped against his face. He stumbled down the pavement, his chest heaving.