Chapter 2 No.2

The silence that followed Karissa's declaration was heavier than any sound. Hettie's triumphant smirk had vanished, replaced by a look of wide-eyed panic. She looked from Karissa's cold, calm face to Brady's, whose expression was a thundercloud of disbelief and rage.

"A kingdom of ash?" he finally spat, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "What the hell are you talking about? What did you do?"

Karissa remained at the dining table, a queen surveying her conquered territory.

She didn't need to raise her voice. "My father wasn't a fool, Brady. He loved me. He knew who your family was, and he knew you. The 'Phoenix Clause' was his last act of protection for me."

She met his furious gaze without flinching. "It stipulates that in the event of a non-amicable divorce where you assume my controlling shares, all of the Simon Group's most valuable liquid assets, key patents, and overseas properties-specifically, everything my mother brought to the company as her dowry-are automatically transferred into a blind trust. A trust that only I can access."

The color drained from Brady's face. He understood business. He understood exactly what she was saying.

"So yes, congratulations," she continued, her voice dripping with ice. "You've won. You get the company name, the headquarters, the crushing debt, and the privilege of paying the salaries of five thousand employees with whatever is left. You wanted the Simon Group? You have it. Or, what's left of it."

"You're bluffing," Brady snarled, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him. "You wouldn't destroy your own family's legacy!"

"My family's legacy?" Karissa laughed, a sound utterly devoid of humor. "My family's legacy is a daughter with a chronic heart condition whose husband just handed her anniversary gift to his pregnant mistress. You destroyed that legacy, Brady. I'm just salting the earth."

With that, she stood, leaving them in the ruins of their victory, and went upstairs to begin her new life.

The next day, Karissa began to erase herself. But it was not an act of sorrow. It was a purge.

She started with the lilies. In thin gloves, she gathered every vase, the cloying, sweet smell a physical assault. She carried them to the kitchen and, one by one, turned on the garbage disposal, feeding the white petals and green stems into its grinding maw. The violent sound was deeply satisfying.

The air inside already felt cleaner.

She moved through the rooms, a silent archivist of a life that was already over. In the master bedroom, she opened the closet. His suits hung on one side, hers on the other. She ran her hand over a silk dress he once said made her look "acceptable"-the closest he'd ever come to a compliment.

She took her clothes out, folding them neatly and placing them into boxes. Sweaters, dresses, shoes. Each item was a skin she was shedding. She sealed the boxes with packing tape, the sound loud and decisive in the quiet house. She would have them sent to a charity that helped women escape abusive situations.

Her jewelry box sat on the dresser. Inside lay the diamond necklace he had been forced to give her on their first anniversary. It was cold and heavy in her palm. She no longer saw it as a lie, but as an asset. She dropped it into a separate velvet pouch. It would be sold. The proceeds would fund her new beginning.

The hardest part was the study. This was his space, but she had spent countless nights in here, long after he had gone to bed, secretly working. Using her knowledge of her father's company to help him navigate its treacherous internal politics. She had guided his strategies, all to help him achieve his goal, hoping he would see her as a partner. He never knew she was his most vital, secret ally. The irony was a bitter pill.

On the desk was a framed photo. It wasn't of them. It was of Hettie, smiling brightly. Brady must have put it there this morning.

Karissa picked it up. She looked at the woman who thought she had won. She felt a profound, chilling pity. Hettie had won a hollowed-out company and a man who was only capable of loving power.

Karissa simply put the photo back down, facedown.

She heard the front door open. Brady was home early.

He walked into the study, stopping short when he saw the boxes.

"What is this?"

"I'm moving my things out," she said. "I'll be gone by tomorrow."

He nodded, his expression unreadable. "Good."

He walked over to the minibar and poured himself a whiskey. He glanced at the empty space on the wall where a painting she loved used to hang. He didn't seem to notice it was gone. He didn't notice any of the spaces she had cleared.

He only noticed what was there. Hettie's photo.

He picked it up, his thumb gently brushing across the glass.

"Hettie is coming for dinner tonight," he said, his back to her. "She's allergic to the perfume you wear. Don't wear it."

Karissa stared at his back. The perfume. It was a custom blend, a gift from her late mother. The last tangible piece of her she had left.

He had just asked her to erase her mother, too.

"Okay," she said. Her voice was a flat, dead thing.

She went upstairs. She took the small, elegant bottle from her vanity. She didn't put it in a box. She walked into the bathroom, opened the cap, and poured the fragrant liquid down the drain.

The scent filled the small room, rich and floral. A final, fading whisper of the past.

Then it was gone.