Chapter 4

Morning sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse living room. The bright light illuminated the dust motes dancing in the air.

Arielle walked into the living area. She was dressed in a sharp, professional tailored suit. Her hair was pulled back tightly.

She spotted Karli's forgotten pink stilettos. They were still sitting near the entryway, exactly where they had been left last night.

Without a second thought, Arielle walked over. She picked up the cheap shoes by the ankle straps.

She walked straight to the open kitchen and dropped them directly into the tall stainless steel trash can. They hit the bottom with a dull thud.

Julian was sitting at the kitchen island. He held a cup of black coffee in one hand and a tablet in the other. He paused his reading.

He frowned deeply, his dark eyebrows pulling together.

"Why are you throwing away Karli's belongings?" he interrogated her, setting his coffee mug down sharply.

Arielle calmly walked to the refrigerator. "I am taking out the trash," she replied, looking him dead in the eye.

Julian stood up. His towering figure cast a long shadow over her.

"You are being petty and vindictive over a harmless intern," he accused her. His voice echoed in the cavernous kitchen.

Arielle ignored his accusation. She poured herself a glass of ice water. The cold liquid slid down her dry throat, soothing the lingering tightness from yesterday's trauma.

Julian, frustrated by her stoicism, decided to change his tactic. He reverted to what he knew best: money.

He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out his wallet. He extracted a sleek, black American Express Centurion card.

He slid the heavy metal card across the smooth marble island toward her. It was a gesture of absolute dominance.

"Go shopping on Fifth Avenue today," Julian told her. "Buy whatever jewelry you want. And forget last night."

He leaned his hands on the marble counter. "Consider this a reward to stop mentioning the word 'divorce'."

Arielle stared at the black card resting on the marble. She felt deeply insulted. His transactional view of their marriage made her stomach turn.

She picked up the card between two fingers. Her expression remained completely unreadable.

Julian smirked. He picked up his coffee cup, taking a slow sip. He assumed he had successfully bought her compliance, just like he bought everything else.

Arielle flicked her wrist.

She tossed the heavy metal card directly into the trash can. It landed right on top of the pink shoes.

The clatter of the metal card against the bin echoed sharply in the kitchen.

Julian's smirk vanished instantly. A dark, thunderous expression of shock and fury replaced it.

He stepped forward rapidly. He grabbed her shoulder, his fingers digging into her blazer.

"What is wrong with you?" he demanded, his voice a low growl.

Arielle shrugged off his hand with pure disgust. She stepped back to maintain her physical boundary.

"My dignity is not for sale," she rejected him flatly. "Especially not at your price."

She grabbed her leather tote bag from the counter. "You have no moral high ground to judge my actions after parading your mistress in our home."

Julian's eyes darkened. "If you walk out that door, you lose the Sinclair protection. You lose everything."

Arielle looked at him, feeling nothing but cold resolve.

"The only thing I need protection from is you," she replied.

She turned toward the private elevator. She pressed the button, stepping inside as the doors opened.

The elevator doors slid shut, leaving Julian staring at the trash can. His absolute authority was utterly shattered.