Chapter 2

Kelsey POV

The ink on the document was violent black, stark against the creamy white paper.

Waiver of Spousal Rights. Asset Separation Agreement.

My family lawyer, Mr. Henderson, looked at me with undisguised pity behind his wire-rimmed glasses. He had served my father, and now he was watching me dismantle my life brick by brick.

"Are you sure about this, Kelsey? Once you sign this, you lose any claim to the Calloway estate. You walk away with only what you brought in."

"I'm sure," I said. My voice was steel. "I want it notarized today."

I signed. The scratching of the pen sounded like a shriek in the quiet office.

I walked out of the building and ran straight into Mrs. Genovese. She was the matriarch of a rival family, old enough to remember when honor meant something more than just a word.

"Kelsey," she said, touching my arm. Her fingers felt like brittle dried twigs. "We heard about the Met. A tragedy. Men... they forget who holds the house together."

"It's fine, Mrs. Genovese," I said, giving her a polite, hollow smile. "Bennett is just... enthusiastic about his mentorship."

"Be careful, child," she whispered, her eyes darting around. "The new ones, they have sharp teeth."

She didn't know the half of it.

Two days later, Bennett hosted a party at the penthouse. He called it a "Celebration of New Beginnings."

I wasn't invited, but I lived there.

I walked down the stairs in a floor-length black dress. I felt like a widow attending her own funeral.

The living room was choked with cigar smoke and laughter. Bennett was in the center, holding court. Alya was next to him, wearing white.

She looked like a bride.

Bennett's hand was resting on her stomach. Openly. Possessively.

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. Then, with a reverence that made my stomach turn, he kissed her belly.

The room cheered. My husband, the man who had told me for a decade that children were a liability, that my hips were too narrow, that pregnancy would kill me... was kissing another woman's stomach.

Alya saw me on the stairs. She raised her glass of sparkling cider to me.

Her eyes said: I won.

Bennett followed her gaze. He saw me. His expression didn't change. He looked at me like I was a piece of furniture that had been placed in the wrong room.

Then, he simply turned his back on me.

I felt the air leave my lungs. It wasn't just pain. It was clarity.

He didn't love me. He never had. I was a transaction that had expired. He was using my loyalty to keep his business clean while he built a new dynasty with her.

I walked through the crowd. They parted for me, their eyes averting. They knew. Everyone knew.

I stopped in front of Bennett.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the Calloway family crest pin. He had given it to me on our wedding day. Loyalty above all, he had said.

I held it out to him.

"Bennett," I said.

He glanced at the pin, then at my face. He scoffed.

"Give it to the maid," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm busy."

He didn't even take it. He wouldn't even grant me the dignity of a rejection.

I placed the pin on a tray of half-eaten canapés held by a passing waiter.

I went back upstairs. I went to the studio.

There was a painting we had started together years ago. A landscape of the Italian coast. It was the cover for his first major smuggling operation.

I took a palette knife and slashed the canvas. Once. Twice. Ten times.

I shredded the memories until my arm ached.

A knock on the door halted me. It was the head maid, Maria. She looked terrified.

"Mrs. Calloway... Mr. Bennett says... he says anything you leave in the apartment by tomorrow will be incinerated."

"I understand," I said.

I didn't cry. I felt numb. A cold, heavy stone had replaced my heart.

The next morning, I looked out the window. Bennett was in the garden.

He was kneeling in the dirt, planting hydrangeas. Alya was pointing at spots in the soil, laughing.

Bennett hated gardening. He used to say it was peasant work.

But there he was, his hands covered in mud, smiling at her with a softness I had never seen.

Later that afternoon, a courier arrived. He delivered a package for Alya.

She opened it in the hallway, making sure I was watching.

It was a silk scarf. Hermès. Vintage.

I recognized it instantly. Bennett had bought it for me in Paris for our fifth anniversary. I had "lost" it two years ago. He told me it was gone.

He had kept it. And now he was giving it to her.

"Look, Kelsey," Alya said, wrapping it around her neck. "Bennett said this is for the future mother of the family. It suits me better, don't you think?"

"It's used," I said. My voice was flat.

"Like you," she spat back. "You lost everything, Kelsey. You couldn't keep a man, and you couldn't make a baby. You're empty."

Something snapped.

"You are a placeholder, Alya," I said, stepping closer. "You are a warm body for a cold man. When the novelty fades, he will discard you just like he discarded me."

Her face twisted. She lunged at me, shoving my chest hard.

I wasn't expecting it. I tripped over the rug and fell hard onto the hardwood floor.

"Bennett!" she screamed immediately. "Bennett, help! She attacked me!"

She threw herself onto the floor, clutching her stomach, sobbing fake tears.

Bennett stormed in from the study.

He didn't ask questions. He didn't look at the red mark on my arm.

"Get out," he roared at me. "Get out of my house before I kill you!"

I stood up. My elbow was bleeding. I wiped the blood with a handkerchief and dropped it on the floor.

"I'm leaving," I said.

I walked out the front door with nothing but the clothes on my back.

My phone buzzed. A text from Alya.

It was a photo of Bennett holding her, his face buried in her neck.

He says he's finally happy. Don't come back.

I looked at the screen. I felt the last thread of attachment snap.

I went to my settings. Delete Account.

I threw the SIM card into the sewer grate.

I was empty. And in the emptiness, I was free.