Cheating Ex Out, Billionaire Husband In

The housekeeper watched nervously as Ariana barked orders at the servants. "Ms. Bailey, Ms. Haynes picked every piece herself. If you toss it all, what am I supposed to tell Mr. Clarkson?"

Ariana shot her an impatient look. "Why are you making such a fuss? This junk—tacky, outdated. Aidan gave me free rein over this house. If I hate it, it goes."

"Ariana Bailey, who gave you permission to touch my belongings?" Gracie's voice came from the foyer, cold enough to make the entire room fall silent.

Ariana froze, then spun around—not a trace of guilt on her face, only a smirk. "Oh, back so soon? I figured you'd be camping out at the city hall till dark."

She closed the distance with slow, mocking steps. "Face it, Gracie—you're not in his heart. Never were. And this house—it's only a matter of time before I'm its true mistress."

The provocation immediately hit a sensitive spot, and Gracie's face turned cold.

She sized Ariana up, then shot back, "So proud of being the other woman?"

Ariana showed no anger at all. Instead, an unsettling smile slowly appeared on her lips.

Her eyes then shifted toward the cabinet nearby.

Resting on top was a framed picture of Gracie's deceased mother.

Ariana's eyes glinted. She grabbed the frame, turning it over with theatrical disgust. "So this is the mother who couldn't stick around? Pretty, I'll give her that. Too bad she didn't have the luck to last. Guess you got that from her too—born to be tossed aside."

"Put that back!" Gracie ordered sharply, her eyes widening in alarm.

"Whoops. I didn't hold it properly..." Ariana said with a sly smile before intentionally releasing her grip.

The frame hit the marble with a sickening crack—glass exploding across the floor, shards skittering in every direction.

The old photograph slipped free from the ruined frame, only for a jagged shard to slash across the face shown in the picture.

Gracie went deathly pale. She rushed forward, but the damage had already been done.

The sight of her mother's face torn apart on that cold floor—that was it. Every shred of restraint she'd held onto snapped.

Her hand flew up, and she delivered a forceful slap across Ariana's cheek.

The sharp sound reverberated through the hallway as Ariana stumbled backward and fell heavily onto the floor.

She clutched her stinging cheek—hatred flickering—then her eyes caught the figure in the doorway.

Like a switch flipped—hurt, innocent, trembling—tears welling on cue.

"Gracie... I was just trying to dust it for you... why would you strike me?"

Aidan rushed inside the moment he heard her cry. He pulled her up from the floor before turning toward Gracie with unmistakable anger. "What the hell is wrong with you? I told her to move in!"

He supported Ariana carefully, looking at her with a softness and tenderness he rarely showed anyone else.

Concern filled his voice when he asked, "Are you hurt?"

Ariana immediately leaned into him, taking full advantage of his protection. "Please don't blame Gracie..." she sobbed. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have touched her things. I deserved to be slapped."

She was the very picture of fragile, as though she were the one who had been wronged.

Aidan's expression softened instantly. His usual coldness disappeared, replaced by the gentleness of someone comforting a frightened child. "You didn't do anything wrong."

He turned to Gracie, disappointment dripping from his gaze. "Jealousy—that's your excuse for violence?"

Gracie pointed toward the broken frame, her hand trembling with anger. "Are you blind? She deliberately destroyed my mother's photo!"

Aidan glanced at the shattered frame and immediately looked irritated. "She wouldn't hurt a fly. You must have scared her into dropping it."

His impatience became more obvious as he continued, "Stop making such a scene over a picture frame. Tell me how much it costs. I'll replace it with ten new ones."

Gracie stared at him in silence. For five years, this had been the man she loved. Yet at that moment, he seemed so unfamiliar that she could hardly recognize him.

"That photo was the only thing my mother ever left me. How could money replace it?" Her eyes burned, but she refused to let the tears fall. "Fine. You want to pay for her? Ten million. Wire it. Call it five years' worth of me—settled."

"Ten million?" Ariana's voice rose sharply. "Have you lost your mind? For a worn-out picture?"

Gracie didn't even acknowledge her. She continued staring directly at Aidan. "What is it? Surely ten million isn't too much for you to spend on your beloved woman."

The disdain in her voice immediately angered him. "Fine—ten million, done. But the second it hits your account, you're out of this house. We're done."

"That's exactly what I want!" Gracie agreed without hesitation.

She turned around, returned to her bedroom, gathered her belongings, and walked out of the house without looking back.

Ariana watched her leave before resting against Aidan's chest, pretending to be worried. "Aidan, she really left. You don't think she's serious?"

Aidan gave a dismissive laugh, completely confident in himself. "Relax. She can't survive without me. Three days—tops—she'll crawl back and beg."