Too Late For Regret, Mr. Billionaire.

Cole's brow creased at her question. He didn't hear pain in it. He heard another emotional move, another line in a script he was tired of reading.

"Don't start, Chloe."

She ignored him, her movements slow and deliberate as she reached for the file folder on her bedside table. She'd had her lawyer draw it up weeks ago, back when she was still full of hopeful fantasies. She slid it across the table toward him.

"Let's get married, Cole."

The proposal caught him completely off guard. He stared at the folder like it was a snake. His face hardened, a cold business mask dropping over his features.

"Chloe, we had an agreement," he said, his voice flat and final. "No marriage."

His words were the last nail in the coffin. The one thing she wanted, the one thing that would have made everything real—he would never give it to her.

"I thought you understood the rules," he added, a hint of disappointment in his voice, like she was an employee who'd messed up.

A bitter laugh escaped her. "The rules? Was losing our child part of the rules, Cole?"

His eyes narrowed. "Child?"

The word hung between them, heavy and unreal. He stared at her, and she watched the flicker of suspicion in his eyes curdle instantly into contempt.

"Using a lie like that to trap me," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "You've disappointed me, Chloe."

He didn't ask for details. He didn't ask if she was okay. He just brushed aside the biggest tragedy of her life like it was a made-up story. Her heart, already broken, crumbled to dust. There was nothing left to feel.

"I see," she said, her voice dead calm. She pulled the folder back. The test was over. She had her answer.

"Cole Rutledge," she said, meeting his eyes without a flicker of feeling. "Let's break up."

The silence in the room was absolute. Cole's face, which had been a mask of irritation, slowly darkened into thunderous rage. He saw this as a challenge to his control, an act of rebellion he couldn't allow.

"What did you say?" he growled.

"I said," she repeated, each word crisp and cold, "we're over. I'm bowing out before you get completely tired of this face."

An ugly, humorless smile twisted his lips. In two long strides he was at her bedside, his hand clamping around her wrist like a shackle. He yanked her forward. "Over? Do you think anything is over without my permission?"

Her body was weak, but her eyes were chips of ice.

"Don't forget your father's company," he hissed, his voice a venomous whisper near her ear. "Several of Beaumont Group's largest projects are funded by Rutledge capital."

The threat was naked and brutal. "Make me unhappy, and you know the consequences."

A sudden, crushing clarity washed over her. It wasn't just about her face. It was about control. It had always been about control.

"So that's it," she whispered, a hollow laugh catching in her throat. "Three years ago, you approached me, you invested in my family's company... all because I look like her?"

His silence was the confession.

"And I was stupid enough to think you actually admired my skills," she said, the last of her professional pride crumbling to ash at his feet.

"Just be a good girl and stay where you belong," Cole said, his voice cold and final. "You and your family will have everything you want. Don't be greedy."

"A canary," Chloe said, the words tasting like poison. "That's all I am to you. A canary in a cage."

She gathered every last ounce of her strength and wrenched her wrist from his grip. Her eyes, dry and burning, held a resolve he'd never seen before.

"I don't want to be in your cage anymore."