“I want him erased.”

William Harrow blinked, caught between a breath and a protest.

Eva Mercer didn’t blink back. She sat still, hands folded neatly on the cold surface of his desk, the envelope in front of her like a loaded gun.

“Eva,” he began, voice gentle. “Divorce isn’t something you just—”

“I was in a car crash last month, did you know that?” she said, flat. “Callen didn’t answer my calls. I could have died on the side of that road, and he was in Italy with my sister.”

William sat back, the words landing heavy.

“I found out through a tagged photo,” Eva continued. Her voice didn’t waver. She opened her bag and slid the folded printout across the desk. A luxury yacht, sparkling ocean, Callen in sunglasses, Lena draped across his lap. His hand on her thigh.

William’s mouth opened slightly, but no words came.

“I stayed four years,” Eva said. “That’s enough.”

He looked at the papers in the envelope. Clean, clinical, final.

“Are you sure you want this filed?”

“I’m sure,” Eva said.

He nodded slowly. “Then I’ll file them by Friday.”

Eva stood, buttoned her coat. The weight in her chest didn’t lift, but it settled, cold and solid.

As she reached the door, William said quietly, “You don’t look like someone running away, Eva. You look like someone who’s already gone.”

She paused at that. Didn’t turn back. Just left.

—

The flashback was sharp in her mind, the crash lived behind her eyes like a ghost.

Dark highway. Rain lashing the windshield. A deer darting across with eyes wide, the flash of headlights.

She’d swerved too hard. The car spun once, twice, skidding sideways off the road. The impact cracked through her body. Glass burst. The airbag hit her face like a fist. Then darkness.

When she came to her senses, the car was tilted against a tree. Smoke curling from the hood. Blood dripped onto her blouse. The phone was on the passenger seat, ringing Callen. She answered with a shaking hand.

No. Wait. It wasn’t Callen calling. It was her calling him. Over and over.

Straight to voicemail.

Her voice was hoarse, desperate, begging.

“Callen, please. Please pick up. I’m hurt.”

It was hours before a stranger found her. The paramedics said she was lucky. That if she’d bled any longer, she might have been gone.

Callen never called back.

She learned where he was later, through a tagged photo. His hand on Lena’s thigh. Her older sister, Lena, came back from the dead. His smile was wide and careless. Hers curling like a woman who knew she’d won.

Then came a scene on repeat at Callen’s office. The week after the hospital, she’d gone to his office.

She had the envelope in her hands, resignation letter, divorce papers, all of it neatly prepared. She waited until the end of the day, when the building was quiet, and stepped inside.

Callen sat at his desk, his tie loosened, his eyes on the glowing screen of his laptop.

“Can you sign these?” she asked, voice neutral. Like she was just another assistant bringing contracts for review.

He barely glanced at her. “Leave them.”

Her fingers tightened around the envelope. “They’re important.”

Still, he didn’t look up. Just scribbled his signature across the flagged lines.

She stood there, watching him. Waiting. Hoping.

The sound of heels clicking on marble broke the moment. Lena.

Her voice, soft and sweet as she knocks. “Cal, are you ready?”

Eva froze. Lena must’ve not known that she was in his office.

Callen glanced up, just briefly. “Give me a minute.”

Callen’s pen scratched the final line. He set the papers aside without reading.

“Done,” he said.

Eva’s pulse rang in her ears. She looked at the door, probably behind where Lena is, then at him, then back at the papers on the desk, her marriage reduced to a few strokes of ink.

She saw how Callen left the room without even looking at her, fast and excited. Eva shattered.

—

Now, sitting in her car, the sky was turning to dusk by the time she reached the house. Their house.

It looked exactly the same. The perfect white facade, the sleek black door, the polished cars in the driveway.

Everything is exactly the same, except for her.

Four years. Four years of being the woman in the shadows. The wife no one knew about. The assistant everyone saw but never really saw.

Four years of waiting for him to see her. To choose her.

She exhaled slowly, long and steady, and her grip loosened.

Her fingers hovered over her phone, her heart pulsing dully beneath her ribs.

Then, like muscle memory, she scrolled down. Past the texts, the work calls, the unread messages.

To the name she hadn’t touched in years.

Jack Wilder.

Her thumb hovered, hesitating just for a moment.

And then she pressed Call.

It rang once. Twice.

She almost hung up.

But then—

“Eva?” His voice came through, low and rough, like whiskey and regret. The sound of it hit her in the chest like a fist.

Her breath hitched. The years fell away, fast and sharp.

“Jack.”

That was all she could say.

But it was enough.

Then, his voice, quiet but certain.

“Where are you?”

Her tears came hot and sudden, slipping down her cheeks.

“I should’ve never left you,” she whispered, the words falling out before she could stop them.

“I’ll come get you,” he said. No hesitation. No questions.

The first thing she noticed was the silence.

Eva stood in the entryway, keys still in her hand. The silence in the house felt different now.

“Callen?”

Her voice barely carried down the hallway.

No answer.

She moved through the house like a stranger, her own footsteps soft and hesitant on the hardwood floors.

In the kitchen, there were two glasses on the counter. One with lipstick smudged across the rim.

Her throat tightened.

Voices drifted from the living room. Callen’s low, careless and another, softer, too familiar.

Lena.

Eva stopped in the doorway.

There they were.

Callen seated on the couch, phone in hand, scrolling through emails like it was just another Tuesday. Lena, curled up beside him, barefoot, glass of wine balanced in her fingers.

Lena looked up first, a slow, almost lazy smile spreading across her lips.

“Eva.” Her tone was smooth, syrupy sweet. “Didn’t know you were home.”

Eva’s chest tightened, but her voice came out steady.

“How long are you staying?”

Lena tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Just a few nights. Needed some time to…reconnect.”

Eva’s gaze shifted to Callen, waiting for him to speak. To clarify. To tell Lena this wasn’t her home.

But Callen didn’t even look up.

“Lena’s staying for a while,” he said, flat, dismissive. “Don’t make a scene, Eva.”

Her hands curled into fists at her sides.

Eva stared at Lena. “You left Callen, remember? Four years ago. On your wedding day.”

Lena’s smile didn’t waver.

“I got a little lost, that’s all. But I’m back now.” Her fingers brushed Callen’s sleeve lightly, like a claim.

Callen said nothing.

Eva felt something twist deep in her gut. A slow, sickening turn.

Days passed, and the house began to shift in small, insidious ways.

Her coffee mug? Gone. The blue blanket she curled up with? Replaced by a new one in Lena’s style. Her framed photo of Paris? Missing from the shelf.

Eva’s clothes, packed neatly into boxes and moved to the guest room without a word.

She tried to confront Callen, but he brushed her off every time.

“I’m busy.”

“Not now, Eva.”

“Can we not make this a thing?”

So she stopped asking.

But the worst part?

The part she hated herself for?

It wasn’t just that Callen ignored her now. It was that, weeks ago before Lena reappeared, he had touched her.

That night. One last time.

It had been quiet, awkward, obligatory. Not passion. Not love. Just a mechanical, half-hearted effort to pretend they were still a married couple.

She’d let herself believe, just for a moment, that maybe it meant something.

It hadn’t.

But it had left her with something she hadn’t expected.

The nausea hit hard that morning, sharp and sudden.

She barely made it to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her as she dropped to her knees in front of the toilet.

Her body heaved, bile rising hot in her throat.

She gagged, coughed, tears stinging her eyes. The sound of her own retching echoed off the marble, loud and awful.

Behind her, the bathroom door creaked open.

“Rough morning?”

Eva froze.

She turned her head slowly, wiping her mouth with a shaking hand.

Lena stood in the doorway, barefoot in one of Callen’s shirts, her arms crossed, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.

“I’m fine,” Eva rasped, her voice hoarse.

Lena tilted her head, her gaze narrowing.

“You don’t look fine.”

Eva tried to stand, bracing herself against the sink. The world swayed. Her stomach twisted again, but she swallowed it down.

Lena stepped closer, her voice soft but laced with venom.

“Stress getting to you? Or is there something you’re not telling us?”

Eva’s heart jumped, cold and sharp.

“I said I’m fine,” she snapped, but it was too fast, too defensive.

Lena’s eyes glinted like a shark smelling blood.

“Oh,” she said, her voice dropping low, “it’s something, isn’t it?”

She moved past Eva, her gaze sweeping the bathroom. Her hand landed on the cabinet handle.

Eva’s breath hitched.

“Don’t.”

But it was too late.

Lena yanked the cabinet open, rifling through the towels until her fingers closed around the plastic stick tucked beneath them.

The test.

She pulled it out, holding it up like a prize.

“Well, well,” Lena whispered, her lips curling into a smile so cold it made Eva’s stomach turn.

Eva’s hands trembled.

“Give it to me.”

Lena’s gaze flicked to the test, then back to Eva, a dark gleam in her eyes as she backed away, looking carefully at the positive pregnancy test.

“Pregnant,” she said, almost a purr. “You’re pregnant.”

Her laughter bubbled up, sharp and ugly.

“Oh, Eva. You really thought this would save you, didn’t you?”

Eva’s voice cracked, desperate.

“Lena—”

Lena stepped back further, holding the test between them like a dagger as Eva followed, reaching outside the bathroom.

“You think a baby is going to make Callen love you? You think it’s going to change anything?”

“Please,” Eva choked, reaching for the test.

Lena yanked it back, her smile twisting into something crueler.

“You were always second best, Eva. Always the stand-in. The safe choice.”

Eva’s pulse roared in her ears. Her hands shook.

“You don’t belong here,” Lena hissed. Her voice was soft, lethal. “You never did.”

And then she shoved.

It wasn’t a hard push, just enough.

Eva’s foot slipped. Her arms flailed, fingers grabbing at air. The world tilted, sharp and fast, and then she was falling down the stairs rushing up like a jagged wave.

The impact slammed through her. Pain bloomed white-hot across her body.

She crumpled at the bottom, a sharp, strangled cry tearing from her throat.

Her vision blurred. The ceiling swam.

And the last thing she saw before the darkness took her was–

Blood.

Her breath hitched, ragged and broken.

No.

Her baby.

Pain.

Blinding, sharp, everywhere.

Eva lay crumpled at the bottom of the staircase, the marble cold beneath her cheek, her breath ragged and shallow. Blood pooled beneath her, warm and sticky, spreading fast.

Her vision blurred, swimming in and out. The world tilted. She tried to lift her head, but it felt like a thousand pounds, and the world tilted as she tried to comprehend what had just happened.

“Eva!” Lena’s voice echoed from above, laced with panic. Footsteps thundered down the stairs, and soon Lena was beside her, eyes wide with shock.

“Eva! Eva, get up!”

Eva tried to speak, to move, but nothing worked.

Lena crouched beside her, eyes wide, face pale, hands fluttering like she didn’t know whether to help or hide the evidence.

“Shit, shit! This wasn’t supposed to—”

Eva’s fingers twitched weakly, fumbling for her phone in her pocket. She could barely focus, could barely breathe, but she unlocked it, found the name—Jack. Her thumb trembled as she tapped out the words.

Help me.

Send.

The phone slipped from her hand, clattering onto the floor.

Lena didn’t notice. She was too busy pacing, muttering under her breath, staring at the blood.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, this isn’t happening.”

Until the front door burst open, slamming against the wall.

“Eva!”

Jack’s voice. Rough. Urgent.

He found her in an instant, eyes going wide, chest rising and falling like he was ready to explode.

“Eva, no. No, no, no!” He dropped to his knees, reaching for her.

Lena darted in, blocking him, arms outstretched.

“Jack, you can’t—get out! You don’t belong here!”

Jack’s face darkened, eyes narrowing like a storm cloud. His voice dropped to a lethal, dangerous low.

“Move.”

“No! This is our home!” she screamed, shoving at his chest.

Jack’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. His voice, when it came, was cold steel.

“Move, or I swear to God I’ll call Callen and tell him exactly what you did. How you pushed his pregnant wife down the stairs.”

Lena froze, the color draining from her face.

“You wouldn’t,” she hissed, but her voice cracked.

Jack leaned in, his eyes burning into hers.

“Try me.”

Lena’s breath hitched. Her lips opened, then closed. She stumbled back, her hands shaking.

Jack turned to Eva, gathering her into his arms as gently as he could.

“Eva, baby, I’ve got you. Stay with me.”

Her head lolled against his chest. She was so pale. So cold.

“Jack…” she breathed, barely there.

“Shh, I’m here. I’m here.”

He didn’t waste another second. He carried her out the door, past Lena’s shocked, trembling frame.

Lena’s voice followed them, high and broken.

“You can’t take her! Jack!”

But Jack didn’t stop.

The hospital lights were blinding, the world spinning around him in flashes of white and red.

“Possible internal bleeding,” a nurse called out.

“Get her to trauma, now!” another ordered.

Jack paced the waiting room like a caged animal, fists clenching and unclenching, his heart hammering so loud he could barely think.

A nurse appeared, her voice soft but firm.

“She’s in surgery. We’re doing everything we can.”

Jack could only nod, his jaw tight, his breath ragged.

Eva… please…

Eva woke to the sound of monitors beeping, the sting of antiseptic in her nose.

Her body felt heavy, her arms weak, her throat raw.

The doctor’s voice floated in, muffled like underwater.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Blackwell… you lost the baby.”

The words hit her like a slap, but she didn’t react. Couldn’t. She just stared at the ceiling, her chest hollow, her world cracked in half.

The door creaked open, and a nurse’s soft voice cut through.

“Will your husband be joining you soon?”

Eva turned her head slowly, her voice a whisper, barely audible.

“I don’t have a husband.”

Jack was there when she woke up again. Sitting in the chair by her bed, dark circles under his eyes, his jaw tight.

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching for her hand. His fingers wrapped around hers, warm and steady.

“I’m so sorry, my baby,” she whispered. Her voice broke, a tear slipping down her cheek.

Jack shook his head. “Don’t. Don’t you dare apologize. This wasn’t your fault.”

Eva stared at him, at the man who’d always been there, waiting in the shadows. The man she had walked away from.

“I don’t want to leave clean,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

Jack’s brows furrowed.

“What?”

“I was going to divorce Callen. I was going to walk away.” Her lips trembled. “But I’m not doing that anymore.”

Jack’s eyes darkened, understanding slowly dawning.

“What are you saying?” he asked quietly.

Eva sat up straighter, the pain sharp in her ribs, but the fire in her chest burning hotter.

“I’m going to make them pay,” she said. Her voice was steady now, the tears drying. “For everything.”