Chapter 3

Sunlight sliced through the gap in the curtains, hitting Carma directly in the eyes. She hadn't slept. She sat on the edge of the bed, watching the dust motes dance in the beam of light. The anger from last night had settled into a cold, hard resolve in her chest.

She stood up and walked into the closet. The racks were filled with designer dresses. Silk, chiffon, sequins. All hand-picked by Mildred's stylist. All designed to make Carma look like a prop. She pushed them aside, the hangers screeching against the metal rod.

In the back corner, shoved behind a stack of hatboxes, was her old duffel bag. She pulled it out and unzipped it. Inside were the clothes she had arrived in three years ago. A pair of faded Levi's. A few cotton t-shirts. A worn denim jacket. They smelled like dust and freedom.

She stripped off the silk pajamas Kendall had bought her and pulled on the jeans. They were a little loose, but they felt like armor.

She grabbed two suitcases from the top shelf. She didn't pack the designer clothes. She didn't pack the jewelry Kendall had given her. She packed her laptop. The stack of sketchbooks she kept hidden under the bed. The drawing tablet was too bulky to carry with two suitcases, so she left it behind, promising herself she'd send for it later.

And from the nightstand, she picked up the small, velvet box that had belonged to her mother. The wood was worn smooth, the hinges rusty. It was the only thing of value she owned.

A soft knock came at the door.

"Mrs. Kirby?" Rosa Gutierrez, the housekeeper, peeked her head in. Her eyes went wide at the sight of the suitcases. "Are you... are you leaving?"

"Rosa." Carma gave the older woman a tired smile. "Yes. I'm leaving. And please, call me Carma. I won't be Mrs. Kirby much longer."

Rosa stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "I heard the yelling last night. I am so sorry."

"Don't be. It's been a long time coming." Carma zipped up the suitcase. "You've been kind to me, Rosa. Kinder than anyone else in this house."

Rosa reached out and squeezed her hand. "You deserve better than them, mija."

Carma picked up the handles of the suitcases. "I know."

She walked down the stairs. The house was quiet. Too quiet. When she reached the living room, she saw why. Kendall and Mildred were sitting at the dining table, eating breakfast. The torn pieces of the divorce agreement were still scattered on the rug.

Mildred looked up, her fork hovering over her eggs. "What is this? A dramatic exit? Very tacky, Carma."

Carma ignored her. She walked straight to Kendall. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a key ring. She set it down on the table next to his coffee cup.

"The house key. The alarm code. The keys to the Porsche in the garage. I don't want any of it."

Kendall frowned, his jaw tight. "Carma, stop being ridiculous. Put your bags away. My lawyer is coming over at noon."

"Your lawyer can talk to my lawyer." Carma pulled her phone out of her back pocket. She dialed the number she had looked up an hour ago.

She put the phone on speaker. It rang twice.

"Camille Vasquez Associates, how can I help you?"

"My name is Carma Kirby," she said, her voice clear and steady. "I need to hire a divorce attorney. The best you have. My maiden name is Carma Forbes."

"This is Camille. I'll take the case." The voice on the other end was sharp, confident, and utterly ruthless.

Mildred choked on her orange juice. Kendall went pale. Everyone in Los Angeles knew Camille Vasquez. She ate men like Kendall for breakfast.

"How are you paying for her?" Mildred sputtered, her face red. "You don't have a dime!"

"That's not your concern," Carma said. She ended the call and slipped the phone back into her pocket. "But since we're talking about money, I've done the math. Three years of managing your household. Cooking your meals. Handling your fan mail. Managing your schedule. That's called labor, and in California, labor isn't free."

Kendall stood up, his chair scraping the floor. "You're threatening me?"

"I'm stating facts." Carma met his glare without flinching. "California is a community property state, Kendall. Half of everything you earned during our marriage is mine. Your Oscar campaign? I organized the screenings. Your endorsement deals? I read the contracts. So when my lawyer starts digging, I'm sure we'll find plenty to talk about."

Kendall looked like he had been slapped. He had expected tears. He had expected begging. He had not expected the quiet girl from Ohio to know the law.

Carma turned and walked toward the front door. Rosa was already there, holding the door open. The housekeeper pressed a thick envelope into Carma's hand. "For the taxi."

Carma tried to push it back, but Rosa shook her head firmly. "Take it."

Carma nodded and stepped outside. The morning air was cool. A yellow cab was already waiting at the curb.

She threw her suitcases into the trunk and slid into the back seat. As the car pulled away, she looked back at the mansion. It looked smaller already.

She pulled out her phone and dialed Emily.

"Hey, babe," Emily answered, her voice groggy. "What's up?"

"Emily." Carma's voice cracked, the adrenaline finally fading. "Can I stay with you for a while? I left him."

"What?" Emily was instantly awake. "Yes! Get over here right now! Are you okay?"

"I will be," Carma said, watching the palm trees blur past the window. "I'm on my way."