Once her signature was on the paper, Allison stood up. Her voice stayed calm. "Check your schedule. Let me know when we can get the divorce done. I'll gather my things and leave tonight."
Henry glanced at the signature, then out the window at the dark sky.
She'd been a decent wife for three years—he wasn't heartless enough to kick her out at this hour. "It's late. Stay the night. You can leave in the morning."
"I'll pass." With those words, Allison took her copy of the agreement. Not once did she look back at him. The study door closed behind her.
Henry's eyes followed her as she left. A frown settled on his face. Something about her reaction didn't sit right with him.
This wasn't what he had expected. He thought she would break down, cry, or try to stop him from ending the marriage.
Over the years, she had made him her everything. A single glance from him could light up her whole day. Her feelings had never been a question.
But now, when he asked for a divorce, she just walked away—no tears, no begging, not even a pause. That coldness didn't fit the woman he remembered.
Was this some kind of trick to get him to ask her to stay? The thought barely landed before the unease faded. All that was left was scorn.
Nice try, but he wasn't buying it.
She'd signed so easily—fine. He just hoped she wouldn't come crawling back later, begging for a second chance.
......
Back in her room, Allison packed. It didn't take long—three years of marriage, and aside from some clothes, there was almost nothing here that was really hers.
A ringtone suddenly broke the silence. The call was from her best friend, Erika Harding.
Allison answered and put the phone to her ear. "Allison, the 'Angel Heart' necklace is on its way to Iris Auction House. All under Aimee Walker's name, just like you asked."
Throughout the years she spent looking after Henry, Allison never walked away from her own work.
She had always kept her jewelry design talent hidden from him. Part of the reason was that she didn't want him to think a wife with her own career was unsuitable.
Allison said, "As usual. Donate all the proceeds to the International Foundation for Women's Aid."
"No problem." Erika paused, then added, "Oh, and Waylon Clarke is back. Everyone's throwing him a welcome party with a shooting event out of town."
After a brief pause, Erika spoke again. "Allison, you were Fledria's top ghost shooter back in the day. It's been years. Want to dust off your skills?"
Waylon?
The name instantly brought Waylon Clarke to mind, a tall, cold man Allison couldn't forget.
Back in the country of Fledria, Waylon was the only one who could match her.
She'd heard his legend so many times that she'd ached to face him. But then she was called back home, and the chance never came.
Now things were different. The divorce would free her from everything that had tied her down. At last, she could spend her time on the things she actually wanted.
"I'll be there," she said.
On the other end of the call, Erika sounded both shocked and excited. "Seriously? Since you married Henry, I've never once managed to get you out anywhere. But hold on... wasn't he against you becoming the center of attention?"
Allison cut in, "Erika, Henry and I are getting divorced."
Silence followed. Then Erika finally spoke. "Divorced? What happened?"
Allison lowered her suitcase to the floor and pulled up the handle. "Kelsey's back," she said.
Nothing more needed to be explained.
The name was all Erika needed to hear. Her temper flared. "He won the lottery when he married you, and he's just tossing you aside? He'll be kicking himself. Don't move—I'm on my way."
......
While dragging her suitcase downstairs, Allison noticed someone sitting in the living room. The woman looked completely out of place in the villa.
She sat in a cream dress, face soft and delicate, every inch the picture of grace.
Beside her, Allison—in her bulky glasses and hastily pinned-up hair—looked like a completely different species.
This was Kelsey—the one Henry had never been able to forget.
