Chapter 2

The hospital corridor was sterile and white, a stark contrast to the black hole that had opened in my chest. I stood outside Cathi's room, unable to make my feet move.

A nurse came out, her face etched with pity. "Addie. You can go in."

Cathi lay on the bed, her face peaceful in a way it hadn't been for years. The constant pain was gone. But so was her light, her laughter, her future. She was just... gone.

I collapsed into the chair beside her bed, my body wracked with sobs that made no sound. I held her cold hand, the hand that had sketched countless beautiful designs, the hand that had held mine when we were children.

My phone buzzed on the floor where I' d dropped it. A text from Alexander.

Don' t cause a scene. Handle it quietly.

A wave of nausea washed over me. He had killed her. As surely as if he had held the blade himself, he had killed her. And he was worried about a scene.

The pain was a physical thing, a crushing weight that made it hard to breathe. All the years of silent endurance, of thankless tasks, of hoping for a crumb of affection, they all crashed down on me.

I had loved him. I had loved Alexander Vaughan since I was a teenager, long before the bankruptcy and the marriage contract. I saw a flicker of vulnerability in him once, a loneliness that mirrored my own. I thought I could reach it. I thought my devotion could mend whatever was broken inside him.

What a fool I had been.

Karlee was different from the others. The other mistresses were transactions, fleeting and meaningless. But Karlee... Alexander believed she was special. He thought she was his savior, the one who pulled him from the wreckage of a tech conference disaster years ago. He looked at her with a reverence I had only ever dreamed of.

I was the one who pulled him from that fire. But he never knew.

After signing the final, soul-crushing paperwork, I took Cathi to be cremated. It was what she wanted. No fuss. I held the simple wooden box containing her ashes, a universe of lost potential in my hands.

That was it. The last strand of hope, the last reason to endure, had been severed.

I drove back to the house that had never been a home. I found my lawyer' s number and drafted a divorce petition. I would take nothing. I just wanted out.

I walked into the living room, the divorce papers clutched in my hand. He was there, on the sofa. Karlee was curled up against him, feeding him a strawberry. The intimacy of the scene was a fresh wound.

He saw me and frowned, his expression one of pure annoyance.

"What do you want now?" he asked.

Karlee looked up, a triumphant little smirk on her face. "Oh, Alex, be nice. She' s grieving."

He gestured to a pair of muddy boots by the door. "Karlee went horseback riding. Clean her boots."

I looked from the boots to his cold face. I remembered all the times I' d gotten sick, and he' d never once brought me a glass of water. Yet he treated this manipulative girl like a queen.

My grief was a cold, hard stone in my gut. I needed this to be over.

I knelt, my knees protesting on the marble floor. I picked up the boots, my hands steady. I would do this one last demeaning thing for my freedom.

When I finished, I walked over to him, my back straight. I placed the signed divorce papers on the coffee table in front of him.

"I want a divorce, Alexander."

He glanced at the papers, then back at me, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "Fine."

"Just sign them," I said, my voice shaking slightly. "And I' m gone."

He leaned back, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Not so fast. You can have your divorce. But first, Karlee has a small request."

Karlee sat up, her eyes gleaming with malice. "It' s about my birthday party tomorrow night. I need some... entertainment."