In the soft, golden light of the romantic dining room, Charles set the cutlery in front of Hannah with the rehearsed grace of a devoted lover. But his performance hit a wall the moment Hannah looked down at her plate.

“All these years we’ve been together, and you don’t even know I’m allergic to mushrooms?” Hannah’s voice was flat, devoid of the warmth he expected.

Charles froze. The mistake was a glaring slap in the face to his "perfect fiancé" act. He recovered in half a heartbeat, forcing a sheepish, apologetic smile. “Oh... I was just so focused on sharing this dish with you. I must have had a momentary lapse. Waiter! Replace this with the black pepper sauce immediately.”

“Yes, sir,” the waiter hurried away.

Hannah watched him with a cold, analytical eye. In her past life, she would have found his clumsiness "endearing" and made excuses for him. Now, she only saw the crass antics of a man who had never truly cared to know her. Her unconditional trust had been a blindfold; now that it was removed, Charles looked less like a prince and more like a cheap actor.

Seeking to pivot away from his blunder, Charles leaned forward, his eyes shimmering with "concern." “Hannah, why have you suddenly started working at the company? I had no idea you were interested in the business world.”

“I had nothing better to do,” she replied simply.

“Did Oscar treat you badly? Is he making you feel insecure?” Charles’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I was so afraid you’d be wronged. His reputation is... well, it’s legendary for the wrong reasons. I worry for you.”

“Instead of worrying about Oscar, you should worry about the reason we’re here,” Hannah said, meeting his gaze. “Didn’t you say you wanted to make things clear?”

Charles nodded quickly, sensing her irritation. “Yes. Jane was buried today... and it left me with so many complicated feelings.”

Hannah lowered her head to eat her steak, treating his words like a free comedy show.

“I can’t believe she would take her own life,” Charles said, grimacing with performative guilt. “I feel responsible. If I had known she was so fragile, I would have been gentler... but Roger and Jane pushed me too far. She drugged me, Hannah. She seduced me and then tried to blackmail me into marriage. I loved you—how could I marry her? But her vindictive acts forced my hand. You don’t blame me for trying to prove my innocence, do you?”

He reached across the table to take her hand, but Hannah moved her glass, dodging his touch with effortless precision.

“That’s a conflict between you and Jane,” Hannah said coolly. “Why should I blame you? You had your reasons. Jane is the one who took the fall; she won’t be complaining to me from the grave.”

Charles’s jaw tightened. He was losing his grip. The docile, submissive Hannah was gone, replaced by a woman who countered every move he made. He swallowed his rising irritation and tried one last, desperate emotional play.

“I’m just afraid you’ll be afflicted by the same darkness that took her,” he said, his voice trembling with faked sincerity. “We loved each other so much, and I’ve hurt you terribly. If anything happened to you, I could never expiate my guilt, even at the cost of my life!”

Hannah let out a short, sarcastic chuckle. The sound was like a whip-crack in the quiet room.

“You needn’t worry. Oscar and I are very close. In fact, I’m grateful to you and Jane. If you hadn't destroyed our relationship, I never would have realized what a real marriage looks like. I finally understand what it means to actually like a person.”

Charles’s eyes flared with a hidden, jagged cruelty. To his ego, the idea of Hannah loving another man was an impossibility—an insult. He had always felt superior to her, convinced she was a puppet he could manipulate at will. He had expected her to be vulnerable, weeping, and ready to crawl back to him once he offered a few sweet words.

Secondhand woman, he thought viciously. Once I get what I want, I’ll make your life a living hell for turning your back on me.

But on the surface, he maintained his mask. He picked up his wine glass and offered a warm, bittersweet smile.

“I thought you needed comfort, and perhaps a path back to us. But if this new life is truly what you want... then I wish you the best.”

Hannah looked at her own glass, then slowly picked it up.

Charles clinked his glass against hers, a sly, predatory light dancing in his eyes as the crystal chimed. He had failed with words, but the wine would do the rest of the work for him.