Lucian left me on Raven Street.

Four years ago, outside the church, he had taken my hand and said, "As long as I am breathing, you will never face danger alone."

I believed him then without question.

Now, amid cameras and chaos, he had taken Clara and left me behind.

I leaned against the wall until I could stand. By the time I returned, blood had seeped through my torn dress. Cold air slipped through the rip in the fabric, and every step hurt.

I sat in the dark living room and watched the Long Island sea through the windows.

Near midnight, the front door opened and Lucian came home. He saw the blood on my back. His face changed at once. "Evelyn, how did you get hurt?"

He crossed the room and snapped at the butler, "My wife is injured, and no one called me? Bring the medical kit. Call the doctor now."

I watched the tightness in his face and almost laughed. So he could still worry about me. He was just always too late.

"I called you," I said.

Lucian froze. "What?"

"Outside the clinic. I called you. Did you hear me?"

"It was too chaotic. I might not have heard." He placed his hands on my shoulders. "I'm sorry. I will handle the press, and we are done with Raven Street. Evelyn, let's stop fighting, all right?"

I looked at him for a long time. Then I nodded. "All right."

He seemed relieved, as if this would end like every other fight, with an apology from him and me leaning back into his arms.

But from that day on, I stopped arguing and asking questions.

I began packing the estate. My gowns went to auction. The wedding albums went into the fireplace. One by one, the things I had once treated as proof of love disappeared from the house.

Lucian was busy with Clara's debt scandal and noticed nothing.

A few days later, Valerie came to see me in a hurry. "Madam, there is a problem with your trust account."

She placed the statement in front of me. "A large sum was transferred out last week from the trust Mr. Moretti left you. The authorization came through Mr. DeLuca's office. The recipient was Clara Voss."

My fingers stiffened.

That trust was the last safety net my grandfather had left me. Before he died, he had written the terms himself. No matter whom I married, a Moretti daughter would never be left without a way out.

Lucian knew what that money meant to me.

How dared he?

I opened the statement. The expenses were listed: the clinic renovation balance, moving costs for the Voss family, the first year's security on the Bell Harbor townhouse, a private hotel suite, several luxury charges, and a few items so intimate they made my stomach twist.

That was my grandfather's money, and Lucian had used it to pave another woman's road and settle her family.

Maybe he did not love her. Maybe he only favored her.

Sometimes favoritism is worse than betrayal.

I closed the statement, my nails digging half-moons into my palm. "Sue her."

Valerie blinked. "Madam?"

"Recover all of it. Principal, interest, punitive damages. Not one cent less."

"What about Mr. DeLuca?"

"He signed the divorce papers. He just doesn't know it yet."

The next day, I went to Fifth Avenue to choose gifts for my father. He still refused to see me, but I wanted to bring something home. After I picked out antique cuff links and a handmade watch, Lucian called.

"Evelyn, you had your lawyer sue Clara and demand ten times the amount?"

"I'm taking back my own money. What is the problem?"

"The problem is that the moment your lawyer filed, debt collectors smashed up her clinic and splashed red paint on the door. Clara is missing, and her family is terrified. She saved my life. I can't let her be destroyed because of our fight."

"Our fight? Lucian, that money was from my grandfather. What right did you have to use it on her?"

"You wrecked her old clinic. I was making amends for you."

"With my money?"

His voice had cooled. "You were not this vicious before. You know what Clara did for me. You know I owe her."

"And me?" I asked. "What you owe me can be spent on her?"

Something inside me went quiet.

"Lucian, let's divorce."

After a long while, he asked, "Are you threatening me with divorce again?"

"It is not a threat. It is a notice."

That hit a nerve.

"Fine. If leaving me is so easy, take a few days to cool down. When you are ready to think straight, we will talk."

The call ended.

Minutes later, the sales associate returned with my black card, embarrassment tightening her smile. "I'm sorry, Mrs. DeLuca. This card has been frozen."

I handed over another.

Frozen.

A third, a fourth, all the same.

The associate's courtesy slowly turned into suspicion. "Madam, the items have already been wrapped. The total is four hundred and eighty thousand dollars. If you cannot pay, we will need to notify store security."

I called Lucian nineteen times.

He did not answer once.

In the end, store security escorted me upstairs to an office. The manager was still polite, but the doubt in his eyes was clear. Not long after, DeLuca men arrived.

The man in front was Aaron, one of Lucian's lieutenants.

He lowered his head slightly. "Madam, Mr. DeLuca says you are to stay at the lake safe house for a few days and cool off. Once you agree to withdraw the lawsuit, he will come for you himself."

I stared at him. "Lucian ordered this?"

"Sir only wants you to stop acting on impulse. He said no one is to hurt you. You are only supposed to rest."

I had no choice.

The black SUV drove for more than an hour, but it did not take me to the lake house I knew. It stopped outside an abandoned warehouse by the West Pier.

That place had once been used by the DeLucas to hold traitors and debtors for short stretches. It was damp and cold, the air sour with rust and seawater.

"This is not the safe house." I was confused.

The two men behind Aaron did not answer. They pushed me into the basement.

The heavy iron door shut behind me.

The next three days were a nightmare.

Lucian might have believed I was at the lake house with a fireplace, a doctor, and hot tea, forced only to calm down. I was really in a basement at the West Pier with several women brought in over debt. When they learned I was Mrs. DeLuca, they looked at me like I was something expensive and useless.

They shoved me. They took my coat. They kicked cold food onto the dirty floor.

I pounded on the door and shouted. The guards only laughed through the iron window.

"Don't make this hard, madam. Learn your lesson, and you get out."

On the third morning, the door finally opened.

I thought it was over.

Instead, they took me to the rose conservatory on Long Island.

That was where Lucian had proposed to me.

Every rose there used to be tended by specialists. Beneath the glass dome, it had always been warm. Now a long table stood in the center, covered with blank cards.

Aaron placed a pen in front of me. "Sir says you damaged Miss Voss's clinic reputation. You are to write apology notes by hand. Nine hundred and ninety-nine of them. When they are done, you may leave."

I stared at him. "Lucian said that?"

He would not answer directly. "Madam, it is an order."

Later, I learned that Lucian had only asked public relations to draft one apology statement for me to sign. Clara had bought Aaron off. The safe house became the West Pier basement, and one statement became nine hundred and ninety-nine cards.

But I did not know that then.

All I knew was that Lucian had frozen my cards, had his men hold me for three days, and now wanted me to sit where he had proposed and apologize again and again to the woman he kept choosing.

So I sat down and wrote.

My fingers went from sore to painful, then from painful to numb. When blood smeared a card, the men at the door took it away and made me start over. Cold rain slid down the glass outside. My wounds began to burn, and fever rolled over me in waves.

By dusk, my vision went black. I collapsed beside the table.

When I woke, I was in the hospital.

An IV pierced the back of my hand, and my fingers were wrapped in gauze.

Lucian sat beside the bed, holding my hand.

"Your fever is down." His voice was rough. "The doctor said the infection worsened, and you were cold for too long. Evelyn, I only told them to take you to the safe house for a few days and have you sign an apology statement. I never thought you would end up like this."

So to him, it was still just cooling off.

I pulled my hand out of his.

"I understand."

I lowered my eyes and repeated, "I won't make trouble again."

Unease crossed his face, but his phone rang. He answered, listened for a few seconds, and I saw relief break through his expression.

Clara Voss had been found.

Lucian hung up and turned back to me. "Evelyn, I have something to handle. When I come back, I will make this up to you."

The moment the hospital door closed, Valerie called.

"Madam, the divorce has been confirmed by the court. Mr. DeLuca signed the agreement, and the lawyers have already handled the waiting period. Legally, you are Miss Moretti again."

I looked out at the gray sky beyond the window. My chest felt hollow, but it also felt light.

"Don't bring me the papers. Check me out of the hospital. Arrange a car to the airport."

An hour later, I stood in the terminal at Kennedy.

As the boarding announcement sounded, Lucian's call lit up my screen.

I watched it for a few seconds, then took out the SIM card, snapped it in half, and dropped it into the trash.

Then I picked up my suitcase and walked toward the gate.

From that moment on, Lucian DeLuca and I were done.