I needed air.

I needed clarity.

And more than anything, I needed a plan.

That’s how I ended up sitting across from Henry Silva in the quiet corner of a downtown restaurant. The kind of place where no one looked too closely at who you were or why you were there.

Henry hadn’t changed much. Sharp suit, sharper eyes, and that steady calm he always carried, the kind that made people trust him even when they shouldn’t. Once, years ago, I had trusted him with my heart. Now, I was trusting him with my freedom.

“I didn’t mean to scare you earlier,” Henry said, his fingers wrapped around the zarf of his coffee cup. He barely touched it yet.

“You didn’t scare me,” I murmured, though my hands still trembled faintly around the rim of my cup. “I just… wasn’t expecting you.”

He nodded, eyes catching mine. “I know. I wouldn’t expect that either. But when I saw your name on the case file… I couldn’t stay detached. I wanted to handle it myself.”

Silence fell between us, but it wasn’t heavy. It was the kind of silence that once defined us—when a glance said more than hours of conversation ever could. For a fleeting moment, I felt like the younger version of myself, the girl who used to believe love could be enough.

I wrapped my hands around the glass of water in front of me, trying to stop them from trembling. “He didn’t even deny it, Henry. He looked me in the eye and basically said I was… boring. That Lavinia makes him feel alive.”

“You did the right thing, Erin,” he said, his voice low but firm, scanning the documents I’d brought along. “Filing now protects you. The longer you wait, the more leverage Trevor gets.”

Henry’s jaw tightened. For a second, the polished lawyer facade slipped, and I caught a flash of the man I used to know—the one who hated seeing me hurt.

My throat tightened, tears pressing against the corners of my eyes. I swallowed them back, the way I always did.

“Henry…” My voice cracked before I could stop it.

“You’re not boring,” he said, more sharply than I expected. His gaze softened a beat later. “He’s trying to make you doubt yourself so you’ll back down. But you’re stronger than that.”

Stronger. The word settled in me like an anchor. I wanted to believe it. We spent the next half hour going over paperwork, strategies, and the ugly logistics of unraveling a marriage.

He was all business, but every so often, his eyes lingered a little too long, his tone softened a little too much. And then the bell over the café door jingled, and I felt the air shift before I even looked up.

Trevor.

He stood at the entrance, his expression unreadable as his gaze landed on us—on me, sitting across from Henry.The moment stretched, thick with unsaid words.

My heart raced. I hadn’t wanted him to follow me, hadn’t even cared if he noticed I was gone. But now, here he was, and the sight of Henry across from me was a truth I couldn’t hide.

And for the first time tonight, it wasn’t betrayal or humiliation that burned in Trevor’s eyes. It was jealousy.

He might have lost me tonight—but he wasn’t about to let me go without treating his wounded ego.

Trevor’s stare cut through the café like glass, slicing straight into me. He didn’t move at first, just stood there with that self-righteous posture that used to make me think he was a man of principle.

Now I know better. That posture wasn’t about principles but control. I'm damn sure he didn’t have any at this point.

Henry shifted in his seat. I could feel the tension rolling off him, sharp and silent, like a storm gathering just offshore. He didn’t break eye contact with Trevor, didn’t flinch. That, more than anything, made Trevor walk toward us.

Every step echoed in my chest. He stopped at our table, his gaze flicking between us, then dropping to the open file of divorce papers on the table.

“So this is how low you’ll go,” Trevor said, his voice calm, but his jaw tight. “Running to your old flame like a wounded little girl. Pathetic move, Erin.”

My cheeks burned. Anger, shame, fury—it all tangled together. But before I could respond, Henry leaned back in his chair, utterly composed.

“Careful,” Henry said evenly, his voice carrying that lawyer’s precision. “You’re on dangerous ground speaking to her like that. Especially in public.”

Trevor’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t look at Henry again. His eyes locked on me instead.

“Did you come running to him the second you walked out? Is that how little I meant to you?” he hissed, low enough that only we could hear.

The words stung, but I held his gaze. “Don’t flatter yourself. You lost me long before tonight.”

For a moment, his mask slipped. Hurt flashed across his face, raw and unguarded. But then it twisted into something darker, uglier.

“You think he cares about you?” Trevor sneered, jabbing a finger at Henry. “He’s using you, Erin. He always did. You were just too blind to see it.”

Henry’s eyes narrowed, but I reached across the table first, resting my hand over Henry’s. It wasn’t calculated. It wasn’t even entirely intentional. But the second I did it, Trevor’s eyes flared with something primal.

Possessiveness.

It was intoxicating and terrifying all at once.

Henry didn’t move his hand away. He let it rest beneath mine, steady, warm, a silent show of solidarity that said more than words ever could.

“Leave, Trevor,” I whispered. My voice was low but edged with steel I hadn’t heard from myself in years. “Go back to your mistress. Or better yet, crawl back into whatever hole you crawled out of when you decided I wasn’t enough.”

The vein in his temple pulsed. He leaned closer, his voice razor-thin. “You’re going to regret this, Erin. Both of you.”

“I’ll see you in court,” I said coldly, eyes still locked on him. “Don’t think for a second you’re walking away clean, Mr. Larusso.”

He gave me a hard look. For a second, I thought he was going to rebut. Yet, he left, the door slamming shut behind him.

The courtroom smelled faintly of wood polish and old books, a place where lives were dismantled and rebuilt on paper. My palms were slick against the table, though I forced myself to sit upright, shoulders squared. Across from me, Trevor sat in his pressed navy suit, calm, smug, as though he had already won something I hadn’t yet realized I’d lost.

Henry leaned close, his voice steady. “Stay calm. Today’s procedural. The judge has everything she needs.”

I nodded, though my chest pounded. The proceedings blurred into a haze of voices, documents, and the gavel’s echo. My mind clung only to the words that mattered.

“The court hereby grants the dissolution of marriage between Erin and Trevor Larusso.”

It was done. Just like that, the years I spent trying to save us were reduced to a ruling and a stamp. Trevor didn’t look at me. He stood swiftly, buttoning his jacket with the ease of someone who had been waiting for this day, for my erasure.

Henry gathered our papers and touched my arm lightly—a gesture that steadied me, if only for a second. But the storm wasn’t behind the oak doors. It was waiting outside. Lavinia leaned against the marble column in the courthouse hallway like she belonged there.

Her silk blouse clung to her, her lips painted a victorious shade of red. The sight of her standing there, waiting for me, was almost worse than the judge’s words.

“Congratulations,” she purred as soon as she spotted me. “You’ve officially made me Mrs. Larusso without the boring ceremony.”

I tried to step past her, but she slid into my path, her eyes glittering with malice.

“You gave me your kidney once, Erin. And now—your husband.” She tilted her head, smiling sweetly. “You’re such a giver. How does it feel, watching me live the life you could never hold onto?”

Her words sliced deep, reopening wounds I thought had already scarred.

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” I said quietly, though my voice carried steel. “Because everything Trevor touches eventually falls apart.”

Her expression darkened. Then, before I could brace myself, her hand struck my cheek with a sharp crack. Heat blossomed instantly across my skin, humiliation burning hotter than the sting.

The hallway fell silent, onlookers freezing in shock. And then—her performance shifted.

Lavinia gasped, her hand flying to her stomach.

Her face twisted, pale now instead of triumphant. “Trevor!” she cried, her voice breaking into a sob. “She’s stressing me—my tummy’s rumbling weird. I guess…something’s wrong—”

Her knees buckled, her body folding slightly as if the very weight of her cruelty had turned on her.

Trevor had just emerged from the courtroom, his gaze snapping to the sight of Lavinia clinging to the marble column, trembling.

For a split second, I thought it was another act. A manipulative ploy. But then—

The dark bloom of blood appeared, staining the pale fabric of her skirt. Gasps erupted through the hallway.

“Trevor!” Lavinia’s voice cracked into a scream. “Help me—please—”

My breath caught in my throat. Even in her cruelty, even in her victory, she was still carrying his child.

Trevor’s composure shattered. His face drained of color as he rushed toward her, catching her before she collapsed fully.

Around us, chaos erupted—shouts for help, hurried footsteps, the echo of someone calling for an ambulance.

“If something happens to her and the baby, I swear, I'll never forgive you, Erin!” Trevor hissed as he boarded into the ambulance.