In the past, during our first few divorces, I was pathetic. I used to follow Brandon and Paula around the city like a masochist. I would sit in my parked car outside expensive restaurants, watching through the glass as he showered her with the kind of tender love and affection he never gave me.

He would buy her entire boutiques, kiss her forehead, and look at her like she hung the stars. It broke my heart into a million pieces, but I swallowed the pain.

I was willing to stay, willing to endure the humiliation, just for the scraps of his attention.

But everything changed a few months ago, on his birthday.

I had just found out I was pregnant. Overjoyed and terrified, I bought a custom cake and went to his private club to surprise him with the news. I thought a baby might finally make us a real family.

Instead, I got the surprise of my life.

I was standing outside the VIP room, my hand hovering over the doorknob, when I heard him talking to his best friend.

"I don't care about Victoria," Brandon’s voice drifted through the crack in the door, cold and annoyed. "She’s just a placeholder. Honestly, by our ninth marriage, I'm going to dispose of her and cut off her mother's medical funds for good. Paula told me she’s finally getting tired of traveling. She wants to settle down soon, and when she does, I'm going to propose to her."

The cake slipped from my hands, ruining the icing on the carpet. I ran out of the club and stumbled into a cheap bar, drinking until I couldn't feel the ground beneath my feet.

I cried until my eyes were swollen shut.

But the nightmare was just beginning. On my way home, walking through a dark street, a group of thugs dragged me into a filthy alley. I was terrified.

As they tore at my clothes and hit me, I managed to dial Brandon’s number, praying he would come save me.

The phone rang and rang, until he finally rejected the call.

Later, I found out he was busy picking Paula up from the airport because she had decided to make a surprise visit.

I was beaten, robbed, and left in the dirt. I had to drag my own bleeding body to the hospital. I lost my baby that night on a cold linoleum floor, all alone.

So right now? I didn't care anymore. The woman who loved Brandon died in that hospital.

After dropping my suitcase at my friend’s apartment tonight, I decided to go to a high-end lounge downtown. Not to drown my sorrows, but to finally celebrate being untied from him.

I ordered a strong cocktail and drank, letting the burn soothe my throat.

"Celebrating something?" a deep, smooth voice asked.

I turned to see a strikingly handsome man sitting on the stool next to me. I didn't know it yet, but this was Vaughn—the ruthless CEO of the rival corporation that had been giving Brandon hell in the business world for the past year.

"My freedom," I replied, clinking my glass against his.

We talked and drank, the conversation flowing easily. For the first time in years, I felt like a normal woman.

I was so engrossed in the conversation that I didn't even realize Brandon and Paula had walked into the lounge.

"Victoria? Hi!" a sickeningly sweet voice chirped.

I turned around. Paula was standing there, clinging to Brandon's arm.

Brandon looked at me, his brows furrowed in deep displeasure, clearly shocked to see me out drinking instead of crying at home like I usually did.

"I'm so sorry," Paula continued, offering a fake, apologetic smile that didn't reach her eyes. "But I actually just paid for this entire bar to be closed off so Brandon and I can celebrate my return privately. Would you mind going out?"

Brandon crossed his arms, his posture arrogant.

He was waiting for my usual meltdown. He expected me to throw a drink, to scream, to beg him not to kick me out.

I just set my glass down and grabbed my purse. "Sure."

Brandon's arrogant expression faltered. He looked completely stunned, his arms dropping to his sides as he stared at my calm face.

Before the silence could stretch, the man next to me stood up, adjusting his expensive suit jacket. He looked down at me with a charming smile, completely ignoring Brandon and Paula.

"Well, what about coming with me, lady?" Vaughn asked, offering me his hand. "We can continue celebrating your freedom somewhere much better."

I smiled up at him. "Sure."

I took Vaughn's hand and we walked right past them, leaving Brandon frozen in place.

We stepped out into the cool night air and walked toward Vaughn's sleek black sports car.

I was just about to reach for the passenger door handle when heavy, furious footsteps approached from behind.

A strong hand clamped down on my wrist, yanking me back so hard I crashed into a solid chest.

Brandon pulled me close, his fingers digging into my skin.

His eyes were blazing with a dark, terrifying possessiveness as he glared at Vaughn over my head.

"No," Brandon snarled, his voice vibrating with rage. "You're mine. You're not coming with him."

I let out a loud, genuine laugh, staring at the hand gripping my wrist. I shook my head, looking up at his furious face.

“I’m not yours,” I said, pulling my arm. His grip was like iron. “In fact, I don’t even know you.”

Brandon’s expression darkened. Before he could snap, Vaughn stepped between us, effortlessly breaking Brandon’s hold.

“Yeah, she’s my date tonight,” Vaughn said, his tone light but his gaze sharp. He placed a hand on the small of my back. “Do you have a problem with that, Brandon?”

Brandon’s hands curled into fists. He opened his mouth, fully prepared to cause a massive scene right there on the pavement.

But then, a piercing scream echoed from inside the lounge.

“Brandon!” Paula shrieked.

Brandon froze. The possessive rage in his eyes vanished, instantly replaced by panic. Without throwing a single backward glance in my direction, he turned and sprinted back inside to his precious first love.

I stood on the sidewalk and laughed. It was a hollow sound, but it felt incredibly freeing. He couldn't even pretend to care about me for a full minute.

“Well,” Vaughn murmured, opening the passenger door of his sports car. “Shall we?”

I slid into the plush leather seat. As Vaughn drove us away, the city blurred past the windows.

“Hmm, interesting,” Vaughn said, breaking the silence. He tapped the steering wheel, glancing at me with a playful smirk. “I know of him, obviously, but I don’t know who his girl is. Are you really not his girl?”

I leaned my head against the cool window. “I’m no one’s.”

Vaughn chuckled, a deep, rich sound. “Is that so? Maybe you should be my girl, then.”

I just laughed it off, closing my eyes and letting the exhaustion wash over me.

The next morning, I was dead asleep on the sofa bed in the apartment when violent banging jolted me awake. The doorbell rang incessantly.

I dragged myself up and peeked through the peephole. Standing in the hallway were two massive men in tailored black suits—Brandon’s security detail.

I cracked the door open, leaving the chain on. “What do you want?”

“Ma'am,” the lead guard said stiffly. “Mr. Sterling demands that you come back to the estate immediately.”

I rolled my eyes. “If he wants me, he has to come and take me himself.”

I slammed the door in their faces and locked the deadbolt.

Less than twenty minutes later, the banging returned. This time, it was louder, accompanied by a voice I knew all too well.

“Victoria! Open this damn door!” Brandon roared.

I sighed, undoing the chain and pulling the door open. Brandon stood there, his chest heaving with barely contained rage.

“Get your things,” he demanded, stepping into the doorway. “You’re coming home right now.”

I crossed my arms, leaning casually against the doorframe. “No, I will not. We are divorced, Brandon. We are not married anymore.”

“I don’t care about a piece of paper!” he snapped.

“Why are you throwing a tantrum?” I asked, offering him a mocking smile. “Is it because you love me? Or is it because you’re just jealous that I can finally replace you?”

Brandon’s eyes flashed. He stepped into my space, backing me up against the entryway wall. A dark, arrogant grin spread across his face.

“No,” he whispered, his voice dripping with toxic confidence. “You can never replace me. You’re mine.”

He grabbed my wrist. “And you’re coming home.”

“If you don’t come willingly,” he added, his voice dropping into a lethal threat, “I will force you. And I will make sure your mother’s hospital funding is cut today. She will die, Victoria.”

I stared at him. He was using a dead woman to blackmail me. He didn’t even bother checking if she was still alive?

I wanted to scream, to spit in his face. But fighting him now would only complicate my escape.

I let out a heavy sigh, dropping my shoulders. “Fine.”

I grabbed my suitcase and followed him to his car. The ride back to the sprawling Sterling estate was silent.

When we finally walked through the grand double doors, Brandon turned to me, his authority restored.

“You’re going to stay here until we get married again,” he ordered.

I looked around the empty foyer. “What about you? Are you going back to Paula?”

“Yes,” he admitted without an ounce of shame. “But I will surely come back for you. I’ll buy you everything to make up for this little rebellion. What do you want?”

I looked him dead in the eye. “I want an island.”

Brandon paused, surprised, but then a smug smile touched his lips. He thought he had bought my obedience once again.

“Okay,” he agreed smoothly. “I'll buy you an island. As long as you stay right here.”

I nodded obediently. “I will.”

I watched him walk out the door to return to the woman he truly loved. I stood alone in the massive foyer, pretending I was going to wait for him.

But as the heavy oak doors clicked shut, I smiled.

A few more days, bye Brandon.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I picked it up, the screen illuminating the dark bedroom.

Flight confirmed. Your new apartment in Paris is fully furnished and paid for the first year. Everything is ready, Kristen’s text read.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Freedom was finally tangible. Just three more days.

Before I could lock the screen, another message popped up. It was from an unsaved number, but I knew exactly who it was.

What about the deal? Have you thought about it? Vaughn asked.

I stared at the glowing words. Last night in the car, Vaughn had made me an offer. He knew I wanted to disappear, and he had the resources to make me completely untraceable. In exchange, he wanted the internal financial documents I had memorized during my years playing the dutiful CEO's wife.

I was still weighing my options when the bedroom door suddenly flew open, slamming against the wall.

Before I could even sit up, a hand cracked across my cheek. The slap was sharp, the sting immediate.

“You bitch!” Paula screamed, her perfectly manicured face twisted in ugly rage. “What did you do to Brandon? Why did he change his mind?”

I slowly turned my head back to face her, tasting copper on my lip. I didn't flinch. I just looked at her, my expression completely blank.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, my voice eerily calm.

“Don't lie to me!” Paula shrieked, stepping closer. “He was supposed to propose to me tonight! The ring was ready, the press was waiting! But he canceled everything and said he needed to finalize his remarriage to you first! What kind of spell did you put on him?”

I let out a dark, humorless laugh. So Brandon had actually delayed his precious proposal just to keep me trapped.

I stood up from the bed, towering over her slightly. “Maybe he finally realized you’re just a tourist in his life, Paula. You leave whenever you get bored, and you only come back when you need his money. Maybe he actually loves me now because I was the one who stayed.”

It was a lie, of course, but I wanted to see her bleed.

Paula’s eyes widened in fury. She raised her hand to strike me again. “You delusional—”

“What the hell is going on here?”

The deep, furious voice came from the doorway. Paula froze, her hand suspended in the air.

Brandon stood there, his eyes sweeping over the room.

The second Paula saw him, her entire demeanor shifted. The vicious, screaming woman vanished.

“Brandon!” she cried, running to him and burying her face in his chest. “She’s crazy! I just came to ask her why she was doing this to us, and she started saying horrible things! She said you never loved me!”

I stood there, the metallic taste of blood still on my tongue, the red mark burning into my cheek. I waited for Brandon to look at me. I waited for him to see the cut on my lip, to see that Paula was the one who had hit me.

But he didn't.

Brandon wrapped his arms tightly around Paula, kissing the top of her head. Then, he looked at me. His eyes were completely devoid of the possessive fire from this morning. There was only cold, hard disgust.

“Are you out of your mind, Victoria?” he spat, his voice laced with venom. “I brought you back here to keep you out of trouble, not to terrorize the woman I actually love.”

My chest tightened. Even though my heart was already dead, his words still managed to twist the knife.

“She hit me, Brandon,” I said quietly, pointing to my bleeding lip.

He didn't even blink. “Don't play the victim. You provoked her. Let me make this perfectly clear to you so you stop living in a fantasy: I only delayed the proposal because the PR optics of a sudden divorce look bad for the company right now. I need you to play the good wife for the shareholders for a few more months.”

He sneered, his grip tightening protectively around Paula.

“Don't flatter yourself into thinking I want you,” he added cruelly. “You are nothing but a convenient shield until Paula and I are ready.”

He turned around, guiding a sobbing Paula out of the room, leaving me completely alone in the cold, silent bedroom.

I stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty doorway. The last pathetic, lingering shred of hope I didn't even know I was holding onto finally turned to ash.

I walked calmly back to the nightstand and picked up my phone. I opened the message from the unsaved number.

My fingers didn't tremble at all as I typed my reply to Vaughn.

I'll take the deal. Get me the hell out of Brandon’s life.