Chapter 2 TWO YEARS LATE

The Estate's tour car, a Jeep Wrangler, approached, driven by a middle-aged Asian man dressed neatly as a butler.

Rivera adjusted tensely. This was all starting to get real.

"I asked you a question." She turned toward Luke hoping to still get something out of him.

"That would be unnecessary." His tone was suddenly cold and distant.

Rivera's brow furrowed. "Unnecessary? I spent two years of my life with you. I think I deserve more than a one-word dismissal."

"My work here is done, Rivera," Luke replied, finally turning to look at her. "You will now meet your husband."

Before she could respond, he got back in the car, reversed it and sped away, the tires kicking up a fine mist of dust. She was now left to stand alone at the entrance of the vast estate.

Rivera stared after the disappearing car in disbelief. "How dare he? I lived with him for two years, and now he treats me like some virus."

Unknown to her, Reagan Royce stood upstairs in the study of the twin mansion, observing her through a telescope.

"She looks rather plain," he murmured, yet his gaze lingered longer than necessary.

A mischievous smile curved his lips as he handed the telescope back to the waiting servant beside him and returned to his seat.

"Tell Choi to take her to the garden lounge. Let's see if the plain girl has any fire in her bones."

The Jeep finally stopped in front of Rivera. "Mrs. Rivera Royce. Butler Choi at your service," the man said with a respectful bow.

Rivera bowed back awkwardly. Despite her once-prestigious upbringing, no one had ever bowed to her like this, certainly not a man old enough to be her father.

"Welcome to the Royce Estate, Madame."

"Thank you. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Choi."

"Where is your luggage?" Choi asked, glancing at the empty space behind her.

Rivera let out a short, nervous laugh, waving a hand dismissively. "Oh, no. I'm not staying. I'm only here to see Mr. Royce."

She found it amusing that anyone would expect her to move in with a conniving man she had never met.

She had deliberately left her main suitcases in a locker at the airport. She'd retrieve it later and travel back to her home in Arizona tomorrow morning.

If Luke had noticed her lack of bags, he hadn't said a word. He had been too preoccupied with his own guilt or perhaps his relief to be rid of her.

Mr. Choi didn't argue. He simply shrugged, and held the door open for her. "As you wish. Please, step inside."

As the Jeep began the long drive into the heart of the estate, Rivera stared in awe. This wasn't just a house, it was a kingdom.

The land stretched endlessly in every direction: manicured lawns, sculpted hedges, fountains, and private roads disappearing into the horizon.

There were three mansions on the land. Two were grand, classic structures, but the third, a twin mansion, stood apart. It was an architectural marvel. It was larger, more imposing, and sat on a slight rise like a crown.

Rivera had seen wealth before, but this was generational power. This was the kind of money that didn't just buy things; it bought silence, laws, and people.

"Does this entire estate belong to him?" she asked.

"It does indeed, Mrs. Royce."

"Please, call me Rivera," she sighed.

"I'm afraid I cannot. Mr. Royce would not approve of such familiarity with the staff.

That alone told her a lot.

"I barely know anything about the family," she admitted.

"The Royce family?"

She nodded. "You cannot blame me, I only arrived in the city today. This is all new to me."

Choi straightened his posture, a note of genuine pride entering his tone. "Mr. Royce is one of the highest-profile individuals in the country. He owns a chain of companies across multiple industries. While his wealth is generational, he has expanded the Royce reach immensely through his own brilliance and efforts."

Rivera listened closely. She expected to hear fear in the butler's voice. Instead, she heard a genuine, unwavering admiration and respect.

"That's... reassuring." He almost changed her opinion of Reagan who she had decided was evil, selfish and probably gained his wealth through illegal dealings, hence the prison sentence.

"If he were merely living off his father's legacy, he would not have spent the past two years working closely with the partner companies in Italy," Mr. Choi added.

"He was working in Italy?" The irony hit her all at once, and she burst into laughter.

Now it made sense. If the country believed Reagan Royce had been in Italy for business, then his imprisonment must have been kept a secret so that his return would be seamless; no scandal, no suspicion.

But her role in all of this still made no sense. Why would a man like that pay five hundred million dollars to clear her father's debt just to marry a girl he had never met?

The Jeep stopped in front of the twin mansion. A line of the mansion's servers stood at the entrance.

"Welcome to the twin mansion, Mrs. Royce," they chorused, bowing in unison.

She offered a polite smile and bowed back, her mind raced as she struggled to keep up with the names they recited as they introduced themselves. By the time the third maid had finished, Rivera's brain was a fog of "Yes, thank you" and "Nice to meet you."

Everything felt overwhelming and surreal. Still, there was something oddly comforting about it.

Inside, the mansion was breathtaking: classic, refined and sophisticated.

"He has good taste. He's probably old-fashioned too, like Dad," she whispered to herself. She found that strangely charming.

"This way, Madame," Choi said, leading her toward the rear of the house to a stunning garden porch.

"Please, wait here. Mr. Royce will be with you shortly."

She was served tea while she waited. Minutes passed, then she faintly heard footsteps from inside. The maids stiffened. A heavy door opened somewhere in the mansion.

Rivera set the teacup down slowly, her fingers trembling.

Her husband was finally coming.