Chapter 2

The next morning, the house was a tomb of silence. Keith had left before she woke, his side of the bed cold and undisturbed. A faint scent of his expensive cologne hung in the air, a ghost of the man who lived there but was never truly present.

Eva packed a single suitcase. She took only the things that were hers before the marriage. Her books, a few simple outfits she' d bought herself, and the box containing the life she had put on hold. Everything else-the designer clothes Keith had bought for her without asking her size or style, the jewelry that sat untouched in its boxes, the kitchen gadgets she' d used to perfect his favorite meals-she left behind. They were props in a play she was no longer performing in.

As she was zipping the suitcase, the doorbell rang. Its chime was jarring in the quiet house. She wasn't expecting anyone.

She opened the door to a woman who looked like she had stepped off a magazine cover. She was tall and slender, dressed in a sharp, white pantsuit that probably cost more than Eva' s monthly grocery budget. Her blonde hair was perfectly styled, and her smile was bright, practiced, and held no real warmth. Even without an introduction, Eva knew who she was.

Holly Cobb.

"Hi," Holly said, her voice smooth as silk. "You must be Eva. I'm Holly."

She didn't offer a hand. She just looked past Eva, into the house.

"Is Keith here? He was supposed to meet me for breakfast to go over some final details for my brand's legal review."

Before Eva could answer, Keith's voice boomed from the hallway. "Holly! You're early."

He strode past Eva, his face lit up with a genuine smile she hadn't seen directed at her in years. He enveloped Holly in a warm hug, a casual intimacy that spoke of a long and deep history.

"I was just in the neighborhood," Holly said, pulling back but keeping a hand on his arm. "I'm a little worried about this intellectual property issue. The launch for my new line is this week, and I can't afford any hiccups."

"Don't worry," Keith said, his voice a low, reassuring rumble. "I've got it covered. I've already pulled the relevant case law. We'll shut them down before they even know what hit them."

He led her into the living room, completely forgetting Eva was standing in the doorway. They sat on the couch, heads bent together over a tablet Holly produced from her designer bag. He was completely absorbed, his focus absolute. The same focus he used to win impossible cases. The same focus he had never once given his wife.

Eva watched them. They looked perfect together. The power couple of LA. He, the brilliant prosecutor. She, the celebrity designer. They were a matched set.

Eva felt nothing. No jealousy, no anger. Just a profound, chilling clarity. She was an outsider here. A placeholder. A role she had foolishly auditioned for, not realizing the part had already been cast.

She quietly closed the front door and walked back to her room. She picked up her suitcase.

As she passed the living room, she heard Holly laugh. "Oh, Keith, you even remember I take my coffee with one sugar and a splash of almond milk. You always did know me best."

"Some things you don't forget," Keith replied, his voice soft.

Eva paused, her hand on the doorknob. She had spent three years making his coffee every morning. Black, two sugars. A simple fact he probably couldn't recall if his life depended on it.

She walked out of the house without a sound. She didn't look back. She hailed a cab to the airport, the LA sun feeling harsh and alien on her skin.

On the plane, as the sprawling city of Los Angeles shrank below her, Eva opened her laptop. Doyle had already sent her the files for her first case back. A brutal, high-stakes hostile takeover. The client was on the verge of ruin, the opposing counsel a notoriously ruthless firm. They said it was an unwinnable case.

Eva read through the preliminary brief, her mind clicking back into place. The familiar thrill of the challenge, the hunt for the weakness, the strategy unfolding in her mind. It was like breathing again after holding her breath for three years.

The woman who had arranged flowers and waited for her husband to come home was gone.

Nemesis was already at work.