Dazzling Queen Unmasked: She Was Never Ordinary

Caylee Jenkins had just walked inside when a set of divorce papers was thrown straight at her.

"Sign this. It's over between us."

Brett Griffiths's tone was cold and cutting, his eyes filled with nothing but loathing.

The words hit her like a slap out of nowhere, leaving her breath caught in her throat. "Why?" she whispered.

"You seriously don't get it?" His laugh was almost cruel. "Caylee, I used to believe you were gentle, even pure. But look at you, you're poisonous. So eaten up with jealousy you'd go as far as destroying Stacey's hand? How could you!"

Brett closed the space between them in a few hard strides, his fingers gripping her chin, forcing her to look at him. "The people you hired to cause trouble at the recital are already behind bars. If you don't want the same fate, you'd better be smart and sign."

Caylee parted her lips to deny the accusation, but one look at his icy expression told her there was no point. He wouldn't believe a single word.

Ever since Stacey Holden, Brett's first love, came back three months ago, Caylee had been framed again and again. And every single time, Brett refused to believe her.

"Fine. Divorce it is. But just answer one thing-these past three years, did you ever care about me, even once?" Her voice trembled.

"Not once."

The word sliced straight through her, clean and merciless. Air rushed out of her lungs, leaving a hollow ache that spread through her chest.

"I understand."

Her lashes dipped, hiding the crack in her expression. By the time she raised her eyes again, her face looked calm, as though nothing had broken inside her. "I bought groceries earlier. Let's share one last dinner and call it a farewell meal."

Brett's brows pulled together. He was about to turn her down, but the redness around her eyes gave him pause, softening his stance for just a second.

"Alright."

The concession had barely left his mouth when his phone rang. He checked the screen and picked up immediately.

"Brett, I need to see you. Can you come to Griffiths Group?" The sweet, cloying voice on the line was loud enough for Caylee to catch every word.

Her heart sank as Brett's expression melted, his tone turning gentle in a way she had never once received. "Of course. I'll be right there. Wait for me."

Her eyes lost their light. So this was the line between being loved and being ignored.

As he turned to go, she instinctively caught his sleeve. But he pulled free at once, without hesitation.

"That's enough, Caylee."

Caylee stood frozen, watching his back fade from sight. The tears she had been holding in spilled over, streaking her face. Her palm pressed hard against her chest, as if that could dull the stabbing ache inside her.

Three years ago, she had been in a car crash. Brett, by pure chance, had been there and pulled her out. From then on, she saw him as her savior.

Around the same time, his family was pressing him to marry, and he turned to Caylee with a proposal. She didn't hesitate and said yes without a second thought.

Their relationship had always been civil, almost cold. He kept his distance and never crossed the line of closeness. But for her, being near him had been enough.

At least, it was... until three months ago, when Stacey returned.

The quiet in the living room broke when her phone buzzed sharply.

Her heart jumped. She thought it might be Brett. But the number was unfamiliar. Then the pictures appeared one after another-Stacey in his arms, smiling, clinging to him as if no one else belonged there.

A text came right after. "Brett has always loved me. Stop embarrassing yourself by hanging on."

Caylee's grip tightened around the phone. The images burned into her chest like blades sawing through bone.

She wasn't the kind to beg. If Brett didn't love her, then there was no reason to hold on.

She picked up the pen, scrawled her name across the divorce papers, and didn't hesitate once.

Right after, she opened her laptop. Her hands moved quickly, pulling up a hidden site. She logged in, clicked on a familiar icon, and typed, "I want every piece of evidence from the recital incident where Stacey claimed she was injured."

The reply came back in seconds. "On it!"

And another, almost bubbling with excitement. "Boss! You finally came back online! It's been three years. I've missed you like mad! Does this mean we're taking jobs again?"

Her response was curt. "Yes."

And before the flood of messages could pour in, she logged out.

Packing didn't take long. From the safe, she retrieved a unique mask and ran her fingers along its shape. She had once held onto it at the crash site, thinking it belonged to Brett, tied her fate to him.

She used to picture forever with him. But now, it was clear that he didn't want her anymore.

She had spent three years repaying what she owed. That debt was finished, and it was time to step back into her old life.

She dropped the mask into the trash. If she had decided to let go, then everything had to go. The man. The memories. Even the mementos. All of it.

"What did you just say?"

Brett's voice dropped like ice. He sat at his desk, eyes locked on the report his assistant had just forwarded about Stacey's recital. His gaze sharpened. "You're telling me those two had nothing to do with Caylee?"

If she wasn't behind it, why hadn't she defended herself? Why had she stayed silent?

Neal Saunders, his assistant, spoke carefully, lowering his tone. "At this point, we've found no proof tying Mrs. Griffiths to them."

Brett's hand slammed the desk. "Keep checking! It has to trace back to her somehow!"

In his mind, there was no other possibility. Stacey was kind, gentle, and incapable of stirring conflict. She had only been back in the country three months, hardly enough time to create enemies. No, it had to be Caylee, eaten up by jealousy.

There was no way he had been wrong about Caylee. No way.

Anger boiled inside him. He snapped his laptop closed with a loud crack. "What about Matthew Walsh? Still nothing from him?"

Walsh Group was one of their key partners, and they had just wrapped a major deal. Yet, right when the launch was nearing, Matthew, heir to the family, had suddenly gone silent.

Neal's tone was cautious. "That deal was originally under Mrs. Griffiths. Ever since you pulled her off two days ago, Matthew hasn't replied at all."

Brett's jaw tightened. Again, Caylee. Somehow, always Caylee.

"Keep pressing him," he growled. "I don't buy that we can't secure this deal without her."

He had barely finished speaking when the office door opened. Stacey walked in, her movements calm, her presence as graceful as ever.

"Brett, I've brought you some good news," she said softly.

Neal, sensing it wasn't his place, excused himself quickly and left the two alone.

Some of Brett's anger eased the moment he wrapped Stacey in his arms. "Tell me," he asked gently.

Her voice was gentle, carrying just enough sweetness to soothe. "I heard about your concerns with the Walsh project. A few days ago, Matthew's mother mentioned he has been searching everywhere for the healer Zephyr to treat his grandfather. And I happen to know Zephyr. If we go together, you'll have the perfect opening to speak with Matthew."

Brett's face brightened immediately, and he kissed her at the corner of her lips. "I'm blessed to have you."

Across town, Caylee had just settled into her new apartment when her phone buzzed with a message. "Boss, I heard about your divorce. Perfect timing. There's a ten-million-dollar job on Zephyr. Want to take it?

Caylee typed back calmly, "Not interested right now."

Almost instantly, another message appeared. "Boss, it's the Walsh family. Remember last month? To help that bastard ex of yours close the Walsh deal, you promised the patriarch a favor. This might be it."

Caylee's gaze sharpened.

For the past year, Griffiths Group had been going through a major shift. To keep things on track, she had secretly stepped in as "Zephyr" and won the Walsh family's project. To make sure nothing went wrong, she'd gone as far as vowing to manage the project personally.

Yet before the project could even take off, Brett had thrown divorce papers in her face.

The deal might no longer have anything to do with her, but the promise, her word, was something she still couldn't abandon.

"Accept the job," she ordered firmly.

Somewhere else, a young man with sharp, almost aristocratic features leaned lazily in his chair as his phone lit up-Zephyr had taken the job.

A glint stirred in his dark eyes, excitement breaking through his usual cool. All the effort and money he had poured into posting that bounty for Zephyr had finally worked.

Just the thought of the elusive healer brought a smile to his face.

His thumb idly traced the edge of his phone as he muttered under his breath, "So, we meet again. I wonder, what kind of surprise will you bring me this time?"

When the day came for Caylee to head to the Walsh estate, fate dealt her a shock.

Stopped at a red light, her car lined up next to a sleek black Bentley. For just a second, through the tinted window, she saw a masked man inside.

Her heart lurched violently. It was the same mask she had clung to in the wreckage three years ago.

The signal switched to green.

Without a second thought, she pressed the accelerator and fell in behind the Bentley. Traffic thickened, but the Bentley's driver clearly had no intention of being followed. The car sped ahead, weaving through lanes with ruthless precision.

Caylee's knuckles blanched against the wheel. To her, that car was prey, and she was the hunter. She wasn't backing off.

The chase grew intense, neither side relenting. Caylee pushed her car to match its pace, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't overtake it.

Her patience began to snap. The hunger for answers about that accident gnawed at her. Narrowing her eyes, she slammed down on the gas, dropped a gear, and closed the distance with a flawless drift.

However, she was seconds away from blocking the Bentley when a cluster of cars swerved in between, cutting her off. By the time she cleared them, the Bentley had already vanished into the horizon. She hit the brakes hard, fury burning through her veins. But then her eyes caught something glinting on the asphalt-it had fallen from the Bentley.

Stepping out, she bent down and picked it up. Yes, it was the same mask from that day of the crash.

Her eyes flew wide, shock crashing through her. No. it couldn't be.

Yet the thought slammed into her like a jolt of lightning.

What if the man who pulled her from the wreckage wasn't Brett at all... but someone else?

Caylee drove straight to the Walsh estate, brushing aside the thoughts still buzzing in her head from that strange encounter at the traffic light. Whatever it was, she didn't have the luxury of sorting it out now. She had somewhere important to be.

As soon as she walked into the house, she stopped in her tracks. Brett and Stacey were sitting there, and the cheer on their faces disappeared the second their eyes landed on her.

Brett stormed forward, voice sharp with fury. "Caylee, what the hell are you doing here?"

Before Caylee had the chance to reply, the butler stepped in. "This young woman is the healer Mr. Walsh personally invited. Zephyr."

The air in the room dropped a few degrees. Stacey shot up from her seat, her voice shrill with outrage. "Caylee, you expect us to believe you're Zephyr? This is a scam! When Matthew comes back and finds out you're bluffing, you won't walk away so easily!"

Brett's glare only darkened. "Caylee, enough. Whatever stunt this is, stop it now. We're divorced. Stop hanging onto me. And let me be crystal clear. Walsh Group's partnership has nothing to do with you anymore. So, leave."

Caylee didn't even bother with a retort. She rolled her eyes, walked over, and dropped onto the sofa like they weren't even worth her time.

Stacey's restraint cracked. "You've got to be kidding me! Don't tell me you still haven't gotten over the divorce, and now you're trying to ruin Brett's deal just for revenge? How could you be this cruel? He looked after you for three whole years and gave you everything, and this is what he gets in return? No wonder Matthew hasn't been answering Brett's calls. Did you poison his ear against him?"

Her accusation poured fuel on Brett's temper. He snatched Caylee's wrist, barking, "Answer me! What exactly did you tell Mr. Walsh?"

Caylee pulled her arm back and stood tall. "Brett, I owe you no explanations. But if you keep pushing me, I'll make sure your deal with the Walsh Group falls apart."

Her defiance stunned him for a beat, then his anger surged higher. He snatched her wrist again and dragged her toward the door. "Fine. If you won't leave, I'll throw you out myself."

"Let go!" she shouted, yanking against his hold, but his grip only tightened.

Caylee wasn't strong enough to break free, and just as he was hauling her toward the doorway, a tall man blocked the entrance, and then, a deep, commanding voice cut through the tension. "Mr. Griffiths, what do you think you're doing?"

Brett froze. The air in the room turned heavy, and he quickly released Caylee, lowering his head. "Mr. Walsh."

Matthew stood framed by the light spilling in behind him, the weight of authority clinging to him. After all, as head of the Walsh family, his very presence demanded deference.

In high society, the Griffiths were seen as influential, but compared to the Walsh family, who had ruled at the top for almost a hundred years, the difference was clear as day.

In front of Matthew, Brett had no choice but to act respectfully.

Yet Matthew didn't even spare him a glance. His eyes went directly to Caylee instead. "Are you hurt?"

Caylee opened her mouth, but Brett jumped in first with an awkward laugh. "It's just a misunderstanding, Mr. Walsh. She's my ex-wife. She followed me here and started causing trouble. I'll take her away right now." His eyes cut to Caylee in a sharp warning.

But Matthew blocked his way, his face giving nothing away. "You're wrong, Mr. Griffiths. Miss Jenkins is my guest today. The person who needs to leave is you," he said, his eyes piercing, putting Brett in his place effortlessly.