Three weeks later, Bellhaven learned Clara Whitmore’s real name.

Chiara Valenti.

The reaction was immediate.

People who once ignored her suddenly wanted interviews.

People who mocked her claimed they had always admired her.

Invitations arrived.

Flowers arrived.

Apologies arrived.

Clara returned almost all of them.

Then Roman came into her bridal shop.

No guards.

No contract.

He placed a folder on the counter.

“What is this?”

“Everything.”

She opened it.

Roman had relinquished every DeLuca claim created through their marriage.

The harbor.

The Whitmore property.

Her shop.

Everything belonged solely to Clara.

She stared at him.

“Why?”

“Because you asked where the difference between my father and me begins.”

Roman leaned against the counter.

“It begins there.”

Clara closed the folder.

“And our marriage?”

“That decision belongs to you too.”

“You’re offering an annulment.”

“Yes.”

She studied him.

“You spent months trying to acquire this harbor.”

“Yes.”

“And now you’re giving it away.”

“It was never mine.”

“You could fight me.”

“I could.”

“You’d probably win something.”

“Probably.”

“Then why don’t you?”

Roman looked at her for a long moment.

“Because winning the harbor and becoming my father would be losing.”

Clara’s expression softened.

He turned toward the door.

“Roman.”

He stopped.

“What if I don’t want an annulment?”

He looked back.

“Then I’d need to know why.”

Clara walked around the counter.

“The first time you proposed, you brought a contract.”

“I remember.”

“You barely looked at me.”

“I remember that too.”

“You wanted my property.”

“Yes.”

“And I wanted security for my mother.”

“Yes.”

Clara stopped in front of him.

“So maybe that marriage should end.”

Roman’s expression revealed nothing.

She removed her wedding ring.

Placed it on the counter.

Then she said:

“And maybe you should ask me again.”

Roman stared at the ring.

Then at her.

“No debt?”

“No.”

“No harbor?”

“No.”

“No arrangement?”

“Absolutely not.”

Roman stepped closer.

“What do I get?”

Clara raised an eyebrow.

“You’re negotiating already?”

“Habit.”

“You get me.”

Roman’s voice lowered.

“That sounds considerably more valuable than the harbor.”

For once, Clara had no clever answer.