She's Back, With The World In Her Grasp

Leland had grown used to Kaelyn bending to his will, a quiet obedience he'd never questioned.

Yet in the blink of an eye, she shoved his arm away.

A cool sweep of contempt crossed her face. "Back when we were married, I never stepped out on you. Once those papers were signed, I earned my freedom. Why should I skulk around? If you're feeling ashamed, stay inside."

The bluntness nearly knocked the breath out of him.

Somewhere in the crowd, a muffled snort slipped through before being hastily swallowed.

Everyone understood the jab—she was calling him the one who cheated.

And as if summoned by the accusation, a honeyed voice drifted over the noise. "Leland."

Davina glided toward them with a slow, practiced sway, the racing team manager trailing behind her.

Wrapped in a sleek, all-white motorcycle suit that hugged every line of her body, she wore Leland's jacket over her shoulders like a trophy.

Once she reached his side, she lifted a delicate hand toward Kaelyn, her smile polished and sweet. "Hey Kaelyn, long time no see."

Cold amusement flickered across her mouth as Kaelyn let a thin smile appear.

When Morgan Group finally found its footing, Leland drifted from one shiny distraction to the next—funding a flashy racing team, sponsoring over-the-top gaming tournaments, and even sinking money into a private flower estate whispered to keep rare, exotic creatures.

Not once had he invited her to see a single part of that world.

Leland's favorite excuse had always been the same. "You wouldn't understand!"

All of those things suddenly looked intended for Davina.

By their second year of marriage, the shift had already begun. The divorce had clearly been mapped out long before the papers appeared.

Yet in those same years, he had tackled brutal projects at her side, shoulder to shoulder, as if they were an unbreakable team. The contradiction stung with a bitter sort of irony.

Kaelyn lifted her gaze, her stunning eyes catching the light, and a relaxed, almost careless smile curved across her lips.

Watching her glow with that calm confidence made Davina's lips jerk in a tight, annoyed twitch.

"Kaelyn, I already heard about what happened between you and Leland," Davina began, smoothing her expression with practiced gentleness. "His grandfather forced that marriage on you for three years. Honestly, Leland owes you far more than what he's offering. If you're unhappy with the settlement, we can take it up in private. There's no need to follow us here and…"

She let her gaze sweep over Kaelyn from head to toe, irritation curling in her chest when she couldn't spot a single flaw.

Kaelyn's sculpted figure and endlessly long legs were enough to spark a stab of envy.

Damn it!

Fighting the sour twist in her stomach, Davina pulled Leland's jacket tighter around her shoulders, as if bracing herself.

"Your motorcycle suit shows half your waist," she remarked coolly, her tone dipped in condescension. "If a reporter snaps a photo, it'll be embarrassing for Morgan Group. Kaelyn, you keep trying to squeeze into circles that don't want you. There's no need to force your way in."

The dismissal flattened Kaelyn like she wasn't worth a second thought.

Kaelyn brushed her palm along the sleek bike beside her, tapping the fairing with an easy, confident motion.

"Don't you recognize this motorcycle?" she queried, her drawl dripping with quiet challenge.

Davina offered a bored glance, barely sparing it any attention. "Renting some cheap ride dressed up like a racing model might fool people who've never stepped on a track, but anyone who actually races would laugh their heads off."

A ripple of muffled snickering rolled through the rich ladies clustered behind her.

"I've never seen that thing at any official event. Looks like scrap metal pretending to be relevant."

"I should snap a picture and send it to my cousin. He owns a motorcycle repair shop—he'll confirm whether it's a knockoff."

"Davina holds an international racing license, you know. If her health hadn't forced her to step back, she'd already be the 'racing legend' people worship in the circuit."

The smug chatter only made Leland's cheeks burn hotter.

"Kaelyn, please—just head home. I'll throw in another five million, alright? Stop turning this into a spectacle." He rubbed his forehead, sounding desperate.

The team manager, who had been quietly circling the motorcycle, finally cleared his throat and lifted his hand. "Mr. Morgan… Miss Hayes… this appears to be a limited-edition Harley. Market value is over fifty million."

"What?" Davina's expression snapped, all color draining from her face.

A sharp possibility flickered through her mind—had Leland actually bought this for Kaelyn?

Leland cut that thought apart with a cold snort. "She's nothing but an orphan. Without me, how would she ever afford something like this?"

No one knew Kaelyn's finances better than he did, and that certainty curled in his voice like a cutting edge.

The team manager, finally piecing together the implication, shut his mouth without protest.

A ripple of mocking laughter rolled through the gathered riders.

"I really thought we had a VIP here. So she's just a pretty doll after all."

While the crowd jeered, Davina lifted her chin, smugness sliding across her shoulders in a slow, indulgent wave.

"Kaelyn, do yourself a favor and leave. I'd hate to watch you embarrass yourself even more than you already have," she remarked, letting a thin, mocking smile tug at her lips. "And don't ride something that fake again. Roads like these aren't forgiving. If you end up crippled, Leland won't be responsible for cleaning up the mess."

Beneath her syrupy concern lurked a poisonous insinuation—Kaelyn was chasing pity, staging a pathetic scene to claw her way back into Leland's arms.