The morning sun sliced through the blinds of the master bedroom, casting sharp lines of light across the floor.
Kaya stood in front of her full-length mirror. She had chosen a tailored, beige crepe suit that fit her like armor. She applied a coat of deep, matte red lipstick. It was a color Grady hated. He said it made her look too aggressive.
Today, she wanted to look aggressive.
She packed a black leather briefcase with copies of her financial records, the prenuptial agreement, and a timeline of Grady's assets.
Kaya left the apartment and hailed a yellow cab. She watched the city blur past the window until the car pulled up to a towering glass skyscraper on Fifth Avenue.
She walked into the marble lobby, rode the express elevator to the 45th floor, and stepped into the sleek, modern reception area of Genevieve Atherton's law firm.
"Kaya Harper," she told the receptionist, using her maiden name.
A few minutes later, she was sitting in a glass-walled conference room. Genevieve Atherton, a sharp-featured woman in her fifties, walked in.
For the next hour, Kaya laid out her life on the table. She spoke with clinical detachment. She detailed her goal: a swift, quiet divorce, exploiting a specific loophole in the prenuptial agreement regarding marital neglect.
Genevieve looked impressed. "You are remarkably prepared, Ms. Harper. I will draft the initial intent documents."
Kaya thanked her, gathered her papers, and walked out of the conference room.
She was looking down at her briefcase, trying to shove a thick folder inside as she walked toward the elevator bank.
She turned the corner.
Kaya slammed hard into a solid wall of muscle and expensive wool.
The impact knocked the breath out of her. The folder slipped from her hands, sending a dozen white papers fluttering to the polished floor.
"I'm so sorry," Kaya gasped, immediately dropping to her knees to gather the papers.
A pair of immaculate, custom-made black Oxford shoes stepped into her line of sight.
A large, masculine hand reached down. Long, elegant fingers with prominent knuckles picked up the paper closest to his foot. The bold heading read: Notice of Intent to Dissolve Marriage.
Kaya reached out to take it. "Thank you, I-"
She looked up.
The words died in her throat.
The man standing above her was tall. Intimidatingly tall. He wore a dark, bespoke suit that screamed ruthless power. But it was his face that made Kaya's heart skip a beat.
Sharp jawline. Deep, piercing black eyes. A small, faint scar near his left eyebrow.
He looked exactly like Garrett Maddox. Grady's older brother. The boy she was supposed to marry ten years ago, before he broke off the engagement, vanished from their lives, and was never spoken of again.
Kaya stared at him, her chest tight. No. It can't be. Garrett was a rebellious, angry teenager. This man radiated the cold, calculated energy of a Wall Street predator.
The man looked down at the divorce paper in his hand. Then, his dark eyes slowly dragged up to Kaya's face. His gaze lingered on her red lips for a fraction of a second before locking onto her eyes.
He held the paper out to her.
"Careful, Miss Harper," he said. His voice was a low, magnetic rumble that vibrated in her chest.
Kaya's breath hitched. Miss Harper. Not Mrs. Maddox. Why would he call her that? It wasn't just a polite guess; the absolute certainty in his voice sent a strange shiver down her spine. The thought was fleeting, dismissed in her frantic haste to escape the overwhelming gravity of his presence.
She snatched the paper from his hand, her fingers brushing his warm skin. She stood up quickly, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"Thank you," she managed to say, her voice slightly breathless.
The elevator doors chimed and opened behind her. Kaya practically fled into the empty car. She turned around just as the doors began to close.
The man hadn't moved. He stood in the hallway, his hands in his pockets, his dark eyes tracking her every movement until the steel doors shut completely.
A senior partner of the law firm hurried down the hall and stopped beside the man. "Mr. Baird, apologies for the wait. Your boardroom is ready."
Judd Baird didn't look at the partner. He slowly rubbed the pad of his thumb against his index finger, right where he had brushed against Kaya's skin.
"Jerome," Judd said, his voice dropping to a deadly quiet tone.
His assistant stepped up behind him. "Yes, boss?"
"Find out exactly what case that woman is filing here," Judd ordered.
Jerome tapped on his tablet. "I already saw the intake screen, sir. She's consulting for a divorce from the Maddox family."
A slow, chilling smile curved the corner of Judd's mouth.
"Finally," Judd whispered.
He turned and walked toward the boardroom. His mind was already moving ten steps ahead, calculating exactly how to build an impenetrable fortress around her.
