The next morning, the shrill ring of the hotel phone jolted April from a restless sleep. She answered, her voice thick with sleep.
"Mrs. Madden?" a crisp, professional voice inquired. It was Sheldon Hayes, Eligah's ever-present, ever-efficient assistant. "Mr. Madden's lawyer has scheduled the final divorce proceedings for ten o'clock this morning at the City Hall courthouse. A car will be sent for you."
"Don't bother," April said, her voice clearing. "I'll get there myself."
She hung up before he could reply. She wanted to sever every last tie, down to the chauffeured cars.
She showered and dressed carefully in the sharp, navy-blue pantsuit she had bought for interviews. It was her armor for the day.
A taxi dropped her in front of the grand, imposing courthouse. As she paid the driver, a sleek, black Bentley purred to a stop at the curb.
Eligah stepped out.
He saw her immediately. His eyes, the color of a stormy sea, swept over her. They took in the short, defiant blonde hair, the professional suit, the determined set of her jaw. He had expected a ghost of the woman he'd left behind-pale, tear-streaked, broken.
This was not that woman.
A muscle in his jaw twitched. This was not in the script. This was a loss of control, and Eligah Madden hated losing control. He turned without a word and strode up the courthouse steps.
April followed, maintaining a careful three-foot distance. They were two strangers, walking in parallel lines that would, for a few more minutes, be legally bound.
Inside, the air was stale with the scent of old paper and human desperation. They took a number and sat on a hard wooden bench, a chasm of silence between them.
Eligah's phone rang. He walked a few feet away to answer it.
"Just rest," he said, his voice dropping to a low, gentle murmur she had never heard him use with her. "I'll be done soon."
Kinley. Of course.
April stared straight ahead, her heart a cold, still stone in her chest. The absurdity of it all was almost funny.
"Number G-47," a bored voice called from a window.
Their turn. They approached the counter together. The clerk, a woman with tired eyes and a name tag that read 'Maria', took their paperwork. She typed methodically into her computer, the clacking of the keys the only sound between them.
After a few minutes, Maria looked up, an apologetic grimace on her face.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Madden, Ms. Potts," she said, her voice weary. "Our system is down for emergency maintenance. I can't process any divorce filings today."
Eligah's carefully constructed composure cracked. "Emergency maintenance?" he demanded, his voice dangerously low. "When will it be back up?"
Maria shrugged, a gesture of bureaucratic helplessness. "Could be a day or two. Could be a week. We got a memo from upstairs. That's all I know."
April saw Eligah's hand clench into a fist at his side. A plan derailed. A loose end left untied.
She felt a wave of dizzying frustration. Freedom, so close, was now trapped behind a server error.
Eligah turned to her, his CEO persona taking over. "Give me your address. I'll have the papers sent to you when it's done." It was a command, not a request.
April looked him straight in the eye, her own frustration hardening into defiance. "That won't be necessary, Mr. Madden. I'll handle it myself."
The formal address hung in the air between them, a newly forged wall.
A flash of anger sparked in his blue eyes. "April, don't be a child."
"Who's the child here?" she shot back, her voice low but sharp. "I'm not the one in a rush to get a clean slate for his precious sweetheart."
Her words were a well-aimed dart, and they hit their mark. He flinched.
People on the nearby benches were starting to stare, their curiosity piqued. Eligah hated public scenes.
He leaned in, lowering his voice to a hiss. "I was trying to help you."
"Thank you," she said, her voice dripping with ice. "But the last thing I need right now is any more help from the Madden family."
She turned on her heel and walked away, her back ramrod straight. She didn't run. She walked with the deliberate pace of someone who had made a decision and would not be looking back.
Eligah stood rooted to the spot, watching her go. The sight of her walking away, so confident, so utterly out of his reach, ignited a hot, unfamiliar feeling in his gut. It was more than anger. It was something akin to panic.
He pulled out his phone, his thumb jabbing at the screen. He dialed Sheldon Hayes.
"Find out what the hell is wrong with the courthouse system. I want it fixed," he snapped. He paused, his eyes still fixed on the doorway where she had disappeared. "And one more thing. You're still following her, right? Stay on her. I want to know where she goes. Every single step."
