Chapter 2

Her heels sinking into the thick carpet of the hallway. She didn't stop until she reached the master bedroom.

She stepped inside and slammed the door shut. She turned the lock on the doorknob until it clicked.

Harlow marched straight into the en-suite bathroom. She turned the silver faucet all the way to the cold side. The freezing water rushed out. She cupped her hands and splashed the icy water onto her face, over and over again.

The freezing temperature shocked her system. It stopped the trembling in her hands.

She grabbed a towel and patted her face dry. Harlow looked up at the large vanity mirror. Her eyes were slightly red, but her gaze was hard as steel. Three years of a charity-case marriage. She had funded his life, and this was her return on investment.

A loud rattle came from the bedroom door.

Then came the sharp click of a key turning in the lock. Beck had used the master bedroom spare key.

Beck pushed the door open and strolled into the bedroom. He walked right past the bathroom and stopped in front of the full-length mirror. He casually began to re-tie his silk necktie, acting as if the disgusting scene in the library had never happened.

"Get yourself ready," Beck commanded, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror. "We have the Wall Street Chamber of Commerce gala tonight. Wear the black dress."

Harlow slowly lowered the towel. Her stomach twisted.

"How do you have the face to ask me that?" Harlow asked, stepping out of the bathroom.

Beck frowned. He turned around, adopting a high-and-mighty, lecturing posture.

"Men play around, Harlow. It's normal in our circle," Beck said smoothly. "It's just business and stress relief."

He adjusted his cuffs. "Kade is a boy. He needs a proper title. But I am a generous man. You can keep the title of Mrs. Chase. You still get to be my wife in public."

Harlow stared at him, her jaw tight.

"Let's be honest," Beck sneered, looking her up and down. "Besides the empty Holman last name, you have zero commercial value. You are useless in the business world."

He puffed out his chest. "Holman Industries is surviving because of my AI project. I am the genius holding your family's company together."

A sharp, humorless laugh escaped Harlow's lips.

Genius? The AI core architecture he was so proud of was written by her. She was the anonymous developer known as "King." She had spoon-fed him the code to save his failing department.

Harlow didn't waste another breath on his delusions. She turned sharply and walked into the massive walk-in closet.

She reached up to the highest shelf and grabbed a heavy-duty, black plastic trash bag. She snapped it open with a loud crack.

Beck followed her into the closet. He crossed his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes. "Are you throwing another princess tantrum?"

Harlow didn't look at him. She marched over to his side of the closet. She grabbed five of his custom-tailored Italian suits by the hangers. With one violent yank, she ripped them off the rack.

She shoved the expensive wool and silk into the black trash bag.

Beck's face turned a furious shade of purple. "Those are my bespoke suits! What the hell are you doing?"

He lunged forward, reaching out to grab the bag.

Harlow spun around. She planted both hands flat against Beck's chest and shoved him with all her might.

The sudden force caught Beck off guard. He stumbled backward, his expensive leather shoes slipping on the polished wood floor. He took two clumsy steps back.

Harlow lifted the heavy trash bag and threw it directly at his feet. It landed with a heavy, pathetic thud.

She stared into his eyes, her voice dead and cold.

"I want a divorce. Right now."

Beck froze. Then, a loud, mocking laugh burst from his chest. He looked at her like she was a stupid child.

He took a step closer, towering over her. "You? Divorce me? You're a spoiled trophy wife. Without me, you wouldn't even know how to pay your own credit card bills."

Harlow kept her face completely blank. She walked past him to the hidden wall safe. She punched in the code, opened the heavy steel door, and pulled out her passport, her ID, and a small velvet box containing her mother's wedding ring.

She pulled a silver carry-on suitcase from the lower shelf. She tossed the items inside and zipped it shut with a sharp, final sound.

Beck watched her pack. A flicker of genuine panic crossed his eyes, but his massive ego quickly buried it.

"You're going to regret this, Harlow," Beck threatened, pointing a finger at her. "You'll be begging to come back."

Harlow grabbed the handle of the suitcase. The wheels dug deep into the expensive plush carpet as she pulled it forward.

She stopped inches from Beck's face. She was shorter, but her aura completely suffocated him.

Her lips curled into a sneer. "Take your true love and your bastard son, and get the hell out of my house."

Beck's mouth opened, but no words came out. The sheer, freezing intensity radiating from her body paralyzed his vocal cords.

Harlow slammed her shoulder into his chest, pushing him out of the way.

She dragged her suitcase out of the closet and headed straight for the bedroom door, leaving Beck standing alone among the garbage.