Once her signature was on the paper, Allison stood up. Her voice stayed calm. "Check your schedule. Let me know when we can get the divorce done. I'll gather my things and leave tonight."

Henry glanced at the signature, then out the window at the dark sky.

She'd been a decent wife for three years—he wasn't heartless enough to kick her out at this hour. "It's late. Stay the night. You can leave in the morning."

"I'll pass." With those words, Allison took her copy of the agreement. Not once did she look back at him. The study door closed behind her.

Henry's eyes followed her as she left. A frown settled on his face. Something about her reaction didn't sit right with him.

This wasn't what he had expected. He thought she would break down, cry, or try to stop him from ending the marriage.

Over the years, she had made him her everything. A single glance from him could light up her whole day. Her feelings had never been a question.

But now, when he asked for a divorce, she just walked away—no tears, no begging, not even a pause. That coldness didn't fit the woman he remembered.

Was this some kind of trick to get him to ask her to stay? The thought barely landed before the unease faded. All that was left was scorn.

Nice try, but he wasn't buying it.

She'd signed so easily—fine. He just hoped she wouldn't come crawling back later, begging for a second chance.

......

Back in her room, Allison packed. It didn't take long—three years of marriage, and aside from some clothes, there was almost nothing here that was really hers.

A ringtone suddenly broke the silence. The call was from her best friend, Erika Harding.

Allison answered and put the phone to her ear. "Allison, the 'Angel Heart' necklace is on its way to Iris Auction House. All under Aimee Walker's name, just like you asked."

Throughout the years she spent looking after Henry, Allison never walked away from her own work.

She had always kept her jewelry design talent hidden from him. Part of the reason was that she didn't want him to think a wife with her own career was unsuitable.

Allison said, "As usual. Donate all the proceeds to the International Foundation for Women's Aid."

"No problem." Erika paused, then added, "Oh, and Waylon Clarke is back. Everyone's throwing him a welcome party with a shooting event out of town."

After a brief pause, Erika spoke again. "Allison, you were Fledria's top ghost shooter back in the day. It's been years. Want to dust off your skills?"

Waylon?

The name instantly brought Waylon Clarke to mind, a tall, cold man Allison couldn't forget.

Back in the country of Fledria, Waylon was the only one who could match her.

She'd heard his legend so many times that she'd ached to face him. But then she was called back home, and the chance never came.

Now things were different. The divorce would free her from everything that had tied her down. At last, she could spend her time on the things she actually wanted.

"I'll be there," she said.

On the other end of the call, Erika sounded both shocked and excited. "Seriously? Since you married Henry, I've never once managed to get you out anywhere. But hold on... wasn't he against you becoming the center of attention?"

Allison cut in, "Erika, Henry and I are getting divorced."

Silence followed. Then Erika finally spoke. "Divorced? What happened?"

Allison lowered her suitcase to the floor and pulled up the handle. "Kelsey's back," she said.

Nothing more needed to be explained.

The name was all Erika needed to hear. Her temper flared. "He won the lottery when he married you, and he's just tossing you aside? He'll be kicking himself. Don't move—I'm on my way."

......

While dragging her suitcase downstairs, Allison noticed someone sitting in the living room. The woman looked completely out of place in the villa.

She sat in a cream dress, face soft and delicate, every inch the picture of grace.

Beside her, Allison—in her bulky glasses and hastily pinned-up hair—looked like a completely different species.

This was Kelsey—the one Henry had never been able to forget.

Allison stopped where she was.

Never once had she expected Henry to bring Kelsey into this house before their marriage was officially over.

On the living room sofa, two women sat on either side of Kelsey, flanking her like she was royalty. The older one was Miranda Fowler—Henry's mother. The younger one, Leyla Fowler, was his younger sister.

Miranda clutched Kelsey's hand, beaming. "Kelsey, make yourself at home. From now on, you're family—I'll spoil you like my own daughter."

A hesitant look crossed Kelsey's face. "Mrs. Fowler, that doesn't seem appropriate. Allison is still living here. If I stay, won't that make things uncomfortable?"

Leyla waved it off. "Why would it be a problem? She's just someone Henry put in the house to run things. He never loved her. Once the divorce goes through, this place is yours."

As Allison watched the scene unfold, something inside her turned cold. The same mother and daughter who had spent years ordering her around were now treating Kelsey like a treasure. Suddenly, her entire marriage felt absurd.

For years, she had given everything she could for that family.

When Miranda was in the hospital—unconscious, incontinent, even the caregivers grimacing—Allison stayed by her bedside for over a month, doing everything herself.

And when Leyla's psycho ex-boyfriend kidnapped her, Allison ran to that rooftop and wrestled the knife away without a second thought.

The struggle that followed nearly cost Allison her life. He pushed her off. She would've hit the ground if the safety cushion hadn't caught her.

And after all that, to them, she was still just like a maid put in the house to run things.

The thought made her let out a quiet laugh.

The sound immediately caught the attention of everyone in the living room. Three pairs of eyes turned toward her at once.

Then Allison's gaze met Kelsey's.

For a split second, triumph glinted in Kelsey's eyes—gone before anyone else could catch it.

Then she rose, all grace. "So you're Allison Warren. Henry's told me so much about you. Lovely to finally meet."

Before Allison could speak, Leyla yanked Kelsey back down. "Kelsey, don't bother with her."

Then she snapped at Allison, "What are you waiting for? Kelsey's cup is empty. Go make her another coffee."

Remaining beside Leyla, Kelsey quietly studied Allison.

Plain white tee, jeans—decent figure, sure, but those big glasses swallowed up her face. Nothing special, really. Just what the rumors said. She looked exactly like the obedient wife everyone talked about.

Three years with this woman, and nothing had changed. Kelsey could see it—Henry wasn't over her.

Kelsey's smile widened as she glanced at the empty cup. "Two sugars, please."

The request left her mouth so naturally that it sounded completely reasonable.

Allison looked at her. A trace of ridicule appeared in her eyes. People always described Kelsey as gentle, fragile, and kind. Apparently, those descriptions weren't entirely reliable.

"Since when does a wife pour coffee for the other woman?" Allison said coolly.

The smile on Kelsey's face disappeared. Almost immediately, tears gathered in her eyes. "I think you've gotten the wrong idea. Henry has been pursuing me, that's true. But I know he's married. I've never accepted his feelings."

The sight of Kelsey's tears instantly set Leyla off. She glared at Allison. "How dare you talk to her like that? Who do you think you are?"

Miranda's face went cold. "Apologize. Now. Do you even know who you're talking to? She's Aimee Walker's protégé—the jewelry master from Fledria. Everyone in high society knows her name. If you drive her away, you'll answer to me."

The moment Miranda mentioned Aimee Walker, Allison nearly laughed. The statement was so absurd that she couldn't help wondering when she had supposedly accepted Kelsey as her student.

A trace of ridicule surfaced in her eyes.

"Really?" Allison said. "Then I suppose I don't have much of a choice. Looks like I'll be serving the coffee after all."