Chapter two

Chapter Two

The Blackwell mansion looked exactly as it had the morning I left for my father's funeral. The marble floors shone beneath the chandeliers. White roses stood in the entrance hall, replaced every few days by staff who had no idea that the woman living among them was preparing to disappear.

I returned shortly after nine the following morning. I had spent the night at Mia's apartment, where she had made tea, sat beside me and allowed me to cry without asking me to explain. By sunrise, the tears had stopped. The grief had not, but something else had taken its place.

Resolve.

I went upstairs and opened the wardrobe. Rows of dresses hung in careful order. Most had been selected because Liam liked them. I remembered buying a blue silk dress after he once said Scarlett looked elegant in that colour. I had worn it to a charity dinner. He had barely glanced at me.

I touched the fabric, then closed the wardrobe.

My phone showed five missed calls from Liam. His message was brief.

“Come downstairs when you arrive. We need to settle this.“

I did not answer. Instead, I changed into a simple cream blouse and dark trousers, collected the folder of documents I had prepared and left again.

Ethan Parker's office occupied the twenty-third floor of a glass building overlooking the river. His receptionist offered me coffee. I declined and waited with my hands folded in my lap.

When Ethan entered, he did not waste time on empty reassurance. “Mrs. Blackwell, I'm sorry about your father.”

“Thank you.”

“I understand you want to discuss divorce.”

“Yes.”

He studied my face for a moment. “Have you made this decision independently, without pressure from anyone?”

“I have.”

“Then tell me what has brought you here.”

I explained the treatment slot, Liam's absence, Scarlett's return and the years of emotional neglect. I did not dramatise anything. I told him what had happened and what I could prove. Ethan listened, making notes.

“Your marriage has lasted five years,” he said when I finished. “We need to review the marriage agreement, your financial arrangements and any assets or obligations that may be relevant. Do not remove money or documents without advice. Do not threaten him. And do not sign anything he gives you without allowing me to review it.”

“I don't want his money.”

“That is not the same as saying you should surrender what you may legally be entitled to. We will establish the facts before deciding what to request.”

He asked for a copy of our marriage certificate, the agreement signed before the wedding and records of the accounts Liam had allowed me to use. I gave him the documents I had brought.

“Has he been unfaithful?” Ethan asked.

“I don't know what he would call it. He has never hidden how much Scarlett matters to him.”

“Have you kept messages, photographs or other records?”

“Some.”

“Send them to me. Don't access anything you are not authorised to access. We will work with what is lawfully available.”

His calmness steadied me. For the first time, someone was treating my decision as real rather than an emotional outburst.

When I left the office, I walked several blocks before calling Benjamin Clarke. He had been my art mentor long before I married Liam. I had stopped visiting his studio after the wedding, telling myself I would return when life became less busy.

“Isabella?” His voice warmed when he recognised me. “It's been a long time.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologise. Are you all right?”

I looked at the traffic moving past the pavement. “No. But I think I'm going to be.”

He invited me to the studio that afternoon. The familiar smell of paint and varnished wood greeted me when I entered. My old easel still stood near the window, covered by a cloth. Benjamin pulled it away.

“You left this unfinished,” he said.

“I thought I had outgrown it.”

“Or perhaps you stopped giving yourself permission to finish it.”

I looked at the canvas. It showed a woman standing beside a window, her face turned towards a strip of light. I had painted it before my wedding. The woman looked uncertain, but she was not defeated.

“I don't know if I can do this anymore,” I admitted.

“Talent does not disappear because you neglect it. It waits for you to return.”

I stayed for an hour, listening as he spoke about an upcoming exhibition and the artists he hoped to invite. He did not ask about Liam. I was grateful.

By the time I returned to the mansion, Liam's car was in the driveway. He stood in the sitting room with his jacket over one arm.

“Where have you been?” he asked.

“Out.”

“You could have answered your phone.”

“I was busy.”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you still planning to behave like this?”

I placed my bag on the console. “I have a meeting tomorrow. I won't be available.”

“With whom?”

“That isn't your concern.”

He gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “You are my wife, Isabella. I think I have a right to know where you go.”

I looked at him for a long moment. “You remembered I was your wife today?”

His expression changed. “Don't start.”

“I haven't started anything.”

I walked past him and went upstairs. In the bedroom, I locked the door and sent Ethan the remaining documents.

A few minutes later, my phone rang. It was Ethan.

“I've reviewed the first set,” he said. “There are details we need to examine more closely, especially the financial arrangements connected to your marriage.”

“Is that bad?”

“Not necessarily. But don't make any sudden moves until we finish reviewing them.”

I looked at the wedding photograph on my bedside table. Liam stood beside me, handsome and distant. I remembered how I had smiled at the camera while hoping he might one day smile at me that way without being asked.

“Understood,” I said.

After the call, I removed my wedding ring and placed it inside the drawer.

I did not throw it away. Not yet.

I simply stopped wearing it.