Chapter 4

Darcy bailed her out. The sky was a grim, overcast gray when Karissa stepped out of the police station.

She stood there, a thin, solitary figure, until she saw them. Brady was carefully helping Hettie into their car.

He saw her and strode over, his face a thunderous mask.

"Did you push her?" he demanded, his voice like a whip crack in the cold air. "Did you cause the accident that injured her legs?"

His words, carried on the frigid wind, felt like ice shards piercing her heart.

She felt a bitter taste rise in her throat.

"No," she said, her voice a pale whisper against the wind. "I didn't."

He let out a cold, disbelieving laugh. "Still lying. Hettie has been nothing but kind to you, always speaking up for you, and this is how you repay her?"

Pain radiated from the center of her chest. "She stole everything from me. My family, my life... and you."

"She deserves it," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. "And I will help her get back everything that is rightfully hers."

His assistant appeared and handed him a folder. He thrust it at Karissa.

"We were never on the same path, Karissa."

He turned and walked away without a backward glance. The black car pulled away from the curb, disappearing into the gray city.

She looked down at the folder in her hands. The words "Divorce Agreement" were printed in bold, black letters.

Darcy came to her side. "Karissa?"

"Darcy," she asked, her voice hollow. "Do you believe me?"

"Of course, I do," Darcy said without a moment's hesitation.

Karissa let out a dry, humorless laugh. A friend of a few years believed her, but the man she had loved her whole life did not.

She picked up a fallen leaf from the ground. It was brown and brittle, crumbling in her hand. A symbol of her own life.

She didn't have much time left.

"How long will it take to liquidate my assets?" she asked Darcy.

"A few months, maybe longer. Why?"

"I want to transfer everything to him as soon as possible."

It was the last thing she could do for him. He had always wanted to defeat Simon Corp, to crush the company that had ruined his family. She had always helped him, secretly, feeding him information, helping him win contracts. It was a habit born of a desperate, one-sided love.

Now, at the end of her life, she would give him his ultimate victory.

Maybe, just maybe, it would make him happy.

And a small, selfish part of her whispered in the dark. She wouldn't sign the divorce papers. She would die as his wife. She would bind him to her, a ghost he could never escape, a debt he could never repay. Let him live with the weight of what he had done.

That night, she called him.

"Brady, I... I'm pregnant."

There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line.

"What did you say?"

"I'm pregnant," she repeated, the lie feeling heavy on her tongue. "The doctor said my health isn't good. He said... I need you."

"Don't you dare use a child to trap me, Karissa," he warned, his voice low and dangerous.

"I'm not," she whispered. "I'm just scared."

He hung up. But she knew he would come.

She went out into the garden. The gardenias were in full bloom, their scent thick and suffocating. She had the gardeners rip them all out.

Then, she returned to the empty, desolate villa and set the pile of dead flowers on fire.

She had tended these flowers for four years, enduring allergic reactions and dizzy spells, all because he had once said Hettie loved them.

Now, she wanted to erase every trace of Hettie from this house. From her life.

The flames leaped high into the night sky. She stood before the blaze, her eyes empty, watching her past burn.

A car screeched to a halt in the driveway.

Brady jumped out, his face a mask of horror as he saw her standing in front of the inferno.