Alexander’s POV:

I couldn’t control the upward curve of my lips as I left. Charlotte Cole—now Charlotte Kingsley—had surprised me. After the wedding, I had expected tears, pleas, or perhaps even seduction attempts. But she had done none of these things, and instead tried to negotiate with me. Thinking about how she struggled to control and hide her inner panic, I couldn’t help but smile.

As I approached the entrance of the Nob Hill mansion, Morris stood there, maintaining his perfect posture as always, hands clasped behind his back.

“Mr.Alexander, the master wishes to speak with you,” he said, his tone respectful yet firm.

That inexplicable good mood that had seized me completely vanished. “Let him stew,” I replied coldly.

Morris’s expression remained unchanged, but I could sense his quiet disapproval. I didn’t care; I had been living on my own since I moved out at thirteen after a conflict with my family.

When getting into the car, I looked at the jacket in my hand that I had intended to put on, but remembering Charlotte’s words, I tossed it aside instead.

Back at Kingsley Tech headquarters in the Financial District, I had barely settled behind my desk when my assistant Kevin hurried into my office.

“Boss, didn’t expect to see you today. Aren’t you going on a honeymoon?” He looked genuinely confused, which irritated me. No one knew this marriage was merely business.

“Has anyone from the Cole family contacted us?” I asked, ignoring his question.

Kevin frowned. “No… were you expecting them to?”

I frowned. This made no sense. Wasn’t the whole point of this marriage to provide William Cole with Kingsley’s resources for his projects? So why hadn’t he extended an olive branch?

“Have they reached out to any of our partner companies? Or tried to purchase materials using the Kingsley name?” I continued probing.

“Sir…” Kevin hesitated. “Strangely enough, Cole Technologies returned all fifteen partnership proposals yesterday. Completely withdrew them.”

I felt my eyebrows involuntarily rise. “They did what?”

Returned everything. When our contact tried to determine why, William Cole personally refused to explain. Someone overheard him saying he ‘didn’t want people thinking he was trading his daughter.'”

This made absolutely no sense. Wasn’t the Cole family after Kingsley Group’s power and resources?

“What game is Cole playing?” I muttered, fingers pressed against my lips as I considered the implications.

If this marriage was entirely my father’s idea, I agreed because he held information about her that I desperately needed. If Cole didn’t agree to business resources, why did they agree? Was Charlotte telling the truth about being threatened? And why was my father so determined to have me marry her?

Just as I pondered this puzzle, my phone rang, the screen flashing with an unknown number.

“Alexander Kingsley,” I answered concisely.

“Hey, old man!” A cheerful female voice immediately made my temple throb.

“Charlotte Cole!” I said her name through gritted teeth, displeased with her calling me “old man.”

“Your dad wants to talk to you. Says you need to come home,” she continued, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.

She had completely dropped her pretense. No longer pretending to be a submissive wife—though I didn’t want that kind of wife either. Nevertheless, this sudden transformation was too abrupt, especially that infuriating nickname. “Old man”? Despite our eight-year age difference, at twenty-eight I could hardly be considered old.

“Charlotte Cole,” I said through clenched teeth, “try calling me that one more time. I promise you’ll regret it.”

Her laughter came through the phone line, light and genuinely amused. “Old man, old man, old man! That’s three times. What are you going to do about it? If you’ve got what it takes, come home!”

My jaw tensed. So this is her game. She was deliberately provoking me to return to the mansion. For what purpose? To please my father? Or to antagonize me?

I wouldn’t fall for her trap. Without another word, I hung up.

The phone rang again almost immediately.

“Old man, are you angry?” She sounded very pleased at this possibility. “You called my legs short, and I didn’t get angry. I call you ‘old man’ and you throw a tantrum? Such a fragile ego! I mean, you’re almost the same age as my dad, should I call you Uncle Alexander instead? That sounds better, let me try—”

I hung up again, my knuckles white from gripping the phone, and blocked the number immediately. I had actual work to do, unlike this idle college student.

When I walked into the conference room preparing for the afternoon meeting, I had almost put this annoying incident behind me. Then my phone rang again—this time displaying the mansion’s landline number.

She better have something truly urgent to tell me! My patience had completely evaporated.

“Charlotte Cole, keep calling if you want to die,” I said harshly the moment the call connected.

“ALEXANDER KINGSLEY!” My father’s angry roar came through the phone. “How dare you speak to your wife like that?”

Damn it. I hadn’t expected Charlotte to be clever enough to involve my father.

“Father, I—”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” he interrupted. “Charlotte was only trying to relay my message to you. What kind of attitude is that? Come home immediately and apologize to her.”

I restrained myself from arguing. My father didn’t know what game Charlotte was playing, and I wasn’t going to explain it to him.

“I’m in a meeting,” I said instead, keeping my voice steady.

There was a moment of silence, then his voice dangerously lowered: “Alexander Kingsley, you have thirty minutes to appear before me.”

Before I could respond, the call ended.

“Meeting postponed,” I announced to the room of surprised executives. “We’ll reconvene tomorrow.”

As I drove back to the mansion, my anger grew with each mile. Charlotte Cole had calculated the entire scenario. The provocative calls, the innocent performance in front of my father—the whole show was designed to force me back to the mansion on their terms.

She didn’t know who she was dealing with.

The Lamborghini’s engine roared as I pulled up to the mansion. Through the windshield, I caught sight of Charlotte at the living room window. For just a moment, I saw a victorious smile cross her face before it quickly transformed into a perfect mask of hurt innocence.

The game begins, Charlotte Cole.