Seraphina leaned against the cold stone of the clinic's exterior wall, sliding down until she was crouching on the sidewalk. Passersby gave her strange looks-a woman in expensive jeans and a t-shirt, crying quietly into her knees outside a luxury hospital.
The clinic doors burst open. Julian ran out, looking frantic. His tie was askew, his hair wild. He scanned the street until his eyes landed on her.
"Seraphina!" he shouted, sprinting toward her.
She didn't move. She didn't have the energy to run anymore. She just watched him come, feeling detached, as if watching a scene from a movie she didn't like.
He skidded to a halt in front of her, reaching out as if to pull her up. "Seraphina, wait. We need to talk. I... I didn't know. You have to believe me, I didn't know she was faking it."
She flinched away from his hand. "You didn't want to know, Julian. There's a difference."
"I can fix this," he pleaded, crouching down to her level. "I'll cut her off. I'll kick her out of the apartment. Just come home with me. We can start over. I'll tear up the divorce papers."
"You already signed them," she said dully. "And I already filed them."
"I'll contest it! I'll hire the best lawyers-"
A low, guttural rumble cut him off. It wasn't thunder. It was the sound of precision-engineered horsepower.
Julian froze. He looked down the street.
Turning the corner was a convoy. Two black Cadillac Escalades with tinted windows, flanking a silver Rolls-Royce Phantom. They didn't look like family cars; they looked like a paramilitary extraction team.
Traffic stopped. Pedestrians stopped. The air seemed to thicken with authority.
The convoy pulled up directly in front of the clinic, double-parking and blocking the entire lane. The lead Escalade's doors flew open before the wheels had fully stopped. Four men in dark suits and earpieces spilled out, forming a perimeter.
Julian stood up, bewildered. "What is this? Is someone famous here?"
One of the bodyguards, a man the size of a vending machine, walked straight toward them. He didn't look at Julian. He looked at Seraphina.
"Ms. Vance," he said, using her legal name but with a tone that suggested he knew better. "Secure transport is ready."
Julian blinked. "Who hired you?"
The bodyguard ignored him. He turned and opened the rear door of the Rolls-Royce.
A man stepped out.
He was tall, over six-foot-three, wearing a charcoal three-piece suit that fit him like armor. His hair was dark, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass. He radiated a kind of power that made the air around him feel colder.
Julian recognized him instantly. Everyone in New York recognized him.
Sebastian Sterling. CEO of Sterling Global. The man who ate companies for breakfast and destroyed competitors for sport.
Julian's mouth fell open. "Mr. Sterling? What... why are you..."
Sebastian didn't even glance at Julian. His dark eyes were locked on the small, huddled figure on the ground.
"Seraphina," Sebastian said. The name wasn't a question; it was an anchor.
Seraphina looked up. She saw him, and the dam finally broke. She scrambled to her feet and threw herself into his arms.
Sebastian caught her. He wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. For a moment, the terrifying titan of industry looked like he might cry.
"I've got you," he murmured into her hair. "I've got you, little bird. It's over."
Julian took a step back, his mind reeling. Little bird? Sterling was hugging his wife?
"Hey!" Julian stepped forward, a surge of possessive indignation overriding his common sense. "Get your hands off my wife! I don't care who you are!"
Sebastian slowly lifted his head. He released Seraphina but kept one protective arm around her shoulders. He turned his gaze on Julian.
It was like looking into the barrel of a gun.
"Your wife?" Sebastian repeated. His voice was dangerously calm. "According to the filing my legal team is currently reviewing, she is your soon-to-be ex-wife."
"That's a technicality," Julian stammered, intimidated despite himself. "Who are you to her? A lover?"
Sebastian didn't answer. A cruel, enigmatic smile touched his lips. He let Julian believe the worst. It was safer that way. It was more painful that way.
"She is under my protection now," Sebastian said, his voice ice-cold. "If you or your family attempt to contact her, I will dismantle your life brick by brick."
Sebastian took off his suit jacket and draped it over Seraphina's shoulders. It engulfed her, smelling of cedar and expensive tobacco.
"You," Sebastian pointed a finger at Julian, "are going to hear from us. And when you do, you will wish you had never been born."
"Let's go, Sebastian," Seraphina said, her voice muffled by the coat. "Please. I just want to leave."
Sebastian nodded. He guided her toward the car.
"Wait!" Julian lunged forward. "Seraphina! You're leaving me for him? Is that it? You had this planned all along?"
Seraphina paused with her hand on the car door. She looked back at him. She didn't deny it. Let him think she was a cheater. It was better than him knowing the truth-that she was someone he could never afford.
"Goodbye, Julian," she said.
She slid into the leather interior. Sebastian followed, slamming the heavy door shut.
The convoy peeled away, merging seamlessly into traffic, leaving Julian standing alone on the sidewalk in a cloud of exhaust fumes.
His phone rang in his hand. It was Dr. Smith from the clinic.
"Mr. Vance? We have a problem. Ms. DeWitt is threatening to jump out the window unless you come back right now."
Julian looked at the phone. He looked at the empty street where the Rolls-Royce had vanished.
He felt a sudden, violent urge to throw the phone into the gutter.
"Make sure the window is locked," Julian said flatly.
He hung up. Rain began to fall, cold and gray, soaking through his shirt. He stood there, shivering, realizing that he had just lost the only real thing in his life.
