LOGINFive years ago, on her birthday, Joan Lancaster was served with divorce papers by the one man whom she had loved with every fiber of her being. The same man who had sworn to protect her, cherish her, and never betray her, Dean Armstrong. He cast her aside without remorse, replacing her with his secretary and stripping her of everything but her dignity. Broken, wounded, and abandoned, Joan disappeared into the night with secrets only she knew, only to return five years later as a different woman. No longer the trembling, forgiving wife Dean once knew, Joan stepped back into his world as the untouchable Ice Queen, a woman whose rise to power had struck fear in the hearts of the Chicago businessmen. But she wasn't just back, she was back for revenge. And she wasn't going to stop until she stripped her ex-husband of everything that made his name. Once a powerful man, Dean found himself begging the woman he once discarded. The woman who now had the strings to his life and could do with him as she pleased. In a world where love had once broken her, Joan would prove one thing: some women don’t come back to be loved. They come back to be feared.
View MoreI hadn't slept properly in days.At first, I thought it was because of the hearing. Then I thought maybe it was because Kai and I were still trying to settle into the new apartment, because the unfamiliar silence at night felt wrong after spending so long in Brandon's house, where there was always movement somewhere. Victor coughing in the study. Brandon walking downstairs for water at midnight. Kai sneaking into my bed after a nightmare. Even Caleb dropping by unannounced and arguing with Brandon over something stupid. The silence here felt too complete. Too careful. Like the apartment itself was afraid to breathe too loudly.But by the seventh day, I realized sleep wasn't avoiding me because of the hearing.It was because I was scared.Scared of court.Scared of Dean.Scared of losing Kai.And maybe, if I was being honest with myself, scared that I'd ruined the only good thing that had happened to me in years when I'd pushed Brandon away.The thought alone made my chest tighten, so
I stood outside Joan’s apartment for longer than I should have after she whispered yes.The word kept replaying in my head even after the door shut softly in front of me. It hadn’t sounded firm. It hadn’t sounded certain either. If anything, it sounded like she’d forced herself to say it because she thought it was the answer she was supposed to give. But it was still a yes. She’d looked away when she said it too, like she couldn’t bear to watch my reaction, and somehow that made the tight feeling in my chest worse.For a second, I genuinely considered knocking again.I almost did it.Almost told her that I wasn’t asking because I wanted reassurance for my ego or because I couldn’t take rejection. I’d asked because I needed to know whether she actually wanted me gone or if she was simply doing what she always did whenever she got hurt: pushing everyone away before they could disappoint her further.But in the end, I stayed where I was.Then I left.The hallway outside her apartment was
~~Brandon's POV~~The silence in the house felt wrong.I realized it the second I opened my eyes.For a few disoriented moments, I lay there staring at the ceiling, waiting for the familiar sounds that had somehow become part of my routine without me noticing. Kai’s small feet pounding through the hallway. Joan downstairs making coffee before work because apparently functioning without caffeine was impossible for her. The soft hum of the television because Kai somehow always woke up before everyone else and immediately wanted cartoons. Even the occasional sound of Joan muttering under her breath when she realized he’d made a mess somewhere.Nothing came.The house stayed quiet.Too quiet.And that was when it hit me again.They were gone.I scrubbed a hand over my face and sat up slowly, exhaling hard through my nose as the emptiness settled heavier in my chest than it had the night before. I’d spent so long getting used to sharing my space with them that the sudden absence of them fe
~~Joan~~Sleep avoided me that night.Every time I closed my eyes, I either saw Victor admitting he'd been the one sending me anonymous messages during my marriage, or Brandon standing in the kitchen quietly telling me he was scared I'd pull away from him if I found out he'd known. The worst part was that neither memory made me as angry as they should have. Hurt, yes. Betrayed, definitely. But anger required distance, and somehow both men had rooted themselves too deeply into my life for me to stay properly angry at either of them.Especially Brandon.Which was exactly the problem.I stared at the ceiling from my spot on the bed while Kai slept beside me, starfished across the mattress with one sock half hanging off his foot and his stuffed dinosaur tucked beneath his chin. Soft morning light had started leaking into the room already, painting pale gold across the walls, and I realized I'd spent most of the night thinking.Thinking about Brandon.Thinking about how easily he'd become
~~Joan~~Brandon’s house didn’t look like he'd just moved in. That was the first thing I noticed when we entered. It was… put together. Well thought-out. Like every piece of furniture had been placed with intention instead of convenience... like he had plans for it to be an actual home where kids
I hesitated to answer, looking at Brandon. He also looked unsure. Victor had told us what we needed to know, yes, but because he was who he was, I was certain he'd left out some things he hadn't wanted us to know. The doctor looked between us, then chuckled lightly. "I'll take it he didn't?"What
By the time I pulled into the driveway, the sky had begun to soften into evening.Kai had gotten quiet during the drive, no doubt the sugar wearing off, and exhaustion from the day starting to seep in. I'd purposely let him have more ice cream than he should've had on a weekday for that reason. I
~~Joan~~The drive home felt longer than usual.Kai sat quietly in the backseat, his small hands folded around the straps of his backpack. Normally, he would have been talking—about school, about whatever game he’d played during recess, about the newest drawing or papercraft he’d made.Today, he wa






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