Chapter 2

Ariel Payne POV:

Desmond called an hour later, his voice light and buoyant, laced with the satisfaction of a man who had just conquered the world.

"Hey, babe. Harrison told me you signed. Knew you' d come through for me. For us."

For us. The words were a bitter pill on my tongue. He made it sound like I' d just agreed to switch cable providers, not dissolve our marriage.

"To celebrate, I' ve booked a table at Le Ciel," he said, his voice brimming with excitement. "Our spot. Wear that red dress I love. I' ll see you at eight."

He didn' t wait for a reply. He never did.

I went. I put on the red dress. I sat across from him in the rooftop restaurant, the city lights twinkling below like a carpet of fallen stars. This was where he had first told me his company secured its seed funding, his hands trembling with exhilaration as he held mine across this very table.

Now, those same hands rested casually on the white tablecloth, a world away from me. He talked animatedly about the IPO, about market caps and stock options, about the cover of Forbes magazine he was scheduled to shoot next week. He was a supernova, burning so brightly he couldn't see the person being consumed by his flames.

I lifted my wine glass. "To you, Desmond," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "You got everything you ever wanted."

He beamed, clinking his glass against mine. "To us, Ariel. We got everything we wanted."

He didn' t notice the finality in my toast. He didn' t see the goodbye in my eyes.

I drank the wine in one long swallow, the expensive vintage tasting like ash in my mouth. For me, Ariel Payne. This drink is for you. For your freedom.

After the waiter cleared our plates, Desmond slid a thin portfolio across the table. "This is for you," he said, his tone magnanimous. "A little thank you. Ten percent of my personal shares. Once we go public, you' ll be set for life. You' ll never have to worry about money again."

My sacrifice, my youth, my entire future, distilled down to a stock portfolio. A severance package.

A bitter laugh threatened to bubble up, but I swallowed it down. I just nodded, my eyes tracing the skyline.

His phone buzzed. A text from his secretary. He glanced at it, a slight frown creasing his brow.

"Damn. It' s Aurora. She' s at the hotel bar downstairs, needs to discuss something urgent about the SEC filings." He stood up, already shrugging into his jacket. "Sorry, babe. Duty calls. You finish up here. The car' s waiting for you downstairs."

He leaned down to kiss my cheek, a perfunctory, absentminded gesture. Then he was gone, leaving me alone with the twinkling lights and a portfolio full of blood money.

I didn' t stay. I couldn' t. I left the portfolio on the table and walked towards the elevators. As the doors opened, I heard their voices from a secluded alcove near the bar.

"Honestly, Des, was it really necessary to have dinner with her tonight of all nights?" Aurora' s voice was laced with an impatient, proprietary tone.

"It was the last time, I promise," Desmond' s voice was a low, placating murmur. "She signed the papers. I had to give her the stock transfer and say a final goodbye. It' s done now. Completely."

"Good. I can' t wait until we can stop sneaking around. It' s been three years, Des. I' m tired of being your dirty little secret."

Three years.

The number hit me like a physical blow. Three years of his lies, his reassurances, his promises that this was all temporary.

A waiter carrying a tray of food emerged from the kitchen, heading towards their table. On the tray was a plate of seared scallops with saffron risotto-the exact same dish I had just eaten. Desmond had ordered it for me, claiming it was the chef' s specialty.

He had ordered us both the same meal. I wasn' t even worth the effort of a different choice. I was a carbon copy of a goodbye.

A wave of nausea and dizziness washed over me. I stumbled back, my hand reaching for the wall to steady myself. My fingers brushed against a decorative glass sculpture on a pedestal.

The world tilted.

I heard the sickening crash before I felt the pain. The sculpture shattered on the marble floor. A shard of glass, sharp as a razor, sliced through the palm of my hand. Blood, dark and shockingly red, welled up instantly, dripping onto the pristine white floor.

"What was that?" I heard Aurora ask.

Footsteps. They appeared at the end of the hallway, their faces illuminated by the soft lighting. Desmond' s eyes widened when he saw me, clutching my bleeding hand.

For a split second, a flicker of the old Desmond surfaced. Panic. Concern. He took a step towards me. "Ariel? What happened?"

But then he caught Aurora' s sharp, questioning gaze. He froze.

"Desmond, who is this?" Aurora asked, her voice dripping with ice. Her eyes scanned my simple red dress, my shocked face, and the blood pooling at my feet with undisguised contempt.

Desmond' s face went blank. The brief flicker of concern vanished, replaced by a cold, terrifying mask of indifference. He looked from Aurora' s demanding face to my bleeding one. And he made his choice.

He turned back to Aurora, shaking his head slightly. "I don' t know her," he said, his voice flat and dismissive. "Just some clumsy guest, I suppose. Let' s go. The hotel will handle it."

I don' t know her.

The words echoed in the sudden, ringing silence of my mind. Ten years of my life, ten years of love and sacrifice, erased in a single, brutal sentence. He looked at me, his wife, the woman who had given him everything, and declared me a stranger.

Just a stranger.

He didn't even give me a second glance as he guided Aurora away, his arm securely around her waist, shielding her from the unpleasantness of my existence.

My legs gave out, and I sank to the floor, the pain in my hand a dull, distant throb compared to the gaping wound he had just torn open in my chest.

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