003

I stared at Calloway Sterling. Six-three easily, maybe more. The kind of presence that made a room feel smaller just by existing in it. His suit probably cost more than my car, and his eyes—cold gray, calculating—missed nothing.

"$2.3 million?" I repeated slowly.

Damien's hand clamped around my arm. "Elena, please. Go upstairs. I'll handle this."

I didn't move. "How much of that was my money?"

"What?" Damien's grip tightened.

"My inheritance. My savings from before we got married. The account I thought was for the baby." I kept my voice level, watching his face pale. "How much did you gamble away?"

Calloway's eyebrow raised slightly. Interest flickered in those storm-gray eyes.

"This is a private matter—" Damien started.

"All of it." I turned to Calloway. "He took all of it, didn't he? And then he kept going."

Calloway pulled out a folder from his briefcase. Flipped it open. "Your husband used your house as collateral for a loan six months ago. When he defaulted, he sold the property to cover the gambling debts. The money from that sale went to..." He paused, scanning the documents. "Designer purchases. Jewelry. A car. None registered in your name, Mrs. Anderson."

Sienna's gifts. He'd been buying her love with my future.

Damien released my arm like I'd burned him. "How dare you come into my home—"

"It's not your home." Calloway's voice cut like a blade. "It belongs to my associate now. You have thirty days to vacate."

The room tilted. I grabbed the doorframe, my other hand instinctively moving to my belly.

"Elena." Damien reached for me, his expression shifting to concern. Such a good actor. "Baby, you need to sit down. This stress isn't good for—"

"Don't touch me." I stepped back. An idea was forming, dangerous and perfect. "Mr. Sterling, you said thirty days?"

"That's correct."

"What if I could guarantee you get your money back? Every cent. With interest."

Damien's face went white. "Elena, what are you—"

"Not from him." I met Calloway's gaze. "From me. But I need you to do something first."

Calloway's lips curved. Not quite a smile, but close. "I'm listening."

"Come to our gender reveal party. Three days from now. Seven PM." I tilted my head. "Consider it insurance. I'll make sure you're repaid."

He studied me for a long moment. I could practically see him calculating, weighing risks, trying to figure out my angle. "You're either very brave or very foolish, Mrs. Anderson."

"Neither. I'm just done being lied to."

"Elena!" Damien's voice pitched higher. "You can't just—"

"Three days," I repeated to Calloway, ignoring my husband completely. "Will you come?"

Something shifted in Calloway's expression. Recognition, maybe. Or respect. "I'll be there."

He handed me another card—this one with a personal number scrawled on the back. His fingers brushed mine briefly. Warm, steady. Then he was gone, leaving Damien sputtering in his wake.

The door clicked shut. Damien rounded on me.

"What the hell was that?"

I smiled. "Planning our party, darling. Isn't that what you wanted?"

***

Three days felt like three years.

I watched Damien pretend everything was fine. Watched him take "work calls" in the other room—probably talking to Sienna. Watched him touch my shoulder, kiss my forehead, play the devoted husband.

I played along. Let him think I was still blind, still trusting, still his.

The night of the party arrived. Guests filled our living room—Damien's colleagues, our neighbors, people I'd once considered friends. Sienna arrived fashionably late in a red dress that hugged her figure.

She hugged me. "You look radiant, Elena."

"Thanks for coming." I squeezed back, hard enough to make her wince.

Calloway showed up at exactly seven. He wore navy this time, and somehow looked even more imposing. Several guests whispered, recognizing him. Damien's jaw clenched when he spotted him.

"Mr. Sterling." I crossed the room to greet him. "So glad you could make it."

"Wouldn't miss it." His eyes swept the room, landing on Damien. "Interesting guest list."

"It's about to get more interesting."

I moved to the center of the room, by the cake. Everyone gathered around, phones out, ready to capture the moment. Damien took his place beside me, his hand finding mine.

I pulled away.

"Actually, before we cut the cake—" I reached under the table and pulled out an envelope. "I have an announcement."

Damien frowned. "Elena, what are you—"

"These are divorce papers." I held them up. Gasps rippled through the crowd. "I'm filing for divorce on the grounds of adultery, fraud, and—" I locked eyes with Sienna, watching her face drain of color. "Conspiracy."

"Elena, you're not thinking clearly—" Damien reached for me.

I sidestepped him. "My husband has been having an affair with my best friend for over a year. He's gambled away my inheritance, sold our house without my knowledge, and used the proceeds to buy his mistress gifts." I turned to address the room. "The baby she's carrying? It's his."

Sienna's hand flew to her stomach. Revealing.

The room exploded in whispers. Damien's mother stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. People pulled out phones—not to take photos anymore, but to text, to call, to spread the gossip.

"This is insane." Damien tried to laugh it off. "She's emotional, the pregnancy hormones—"

"Cut the cake, Damien." I gestured to the knife. "Let's see what color it is."

He stared at me like I'd grown a second head. But with everyone watching, he had no choice. He grabbed the knife and cut.

Nothing. Just plain vanilla cake. No color at all.

"Huh." I tapped my chin. "I guess that's what happens when you cancel the gender reveal order and replace it with a regular cake. Disappointing, isn't it?"

I pulled out my phone and pulled up a photo—the bank statements showing Damien's transactions. Sienna's name on jewelry store receipts. The house deed with his forged signature authorization.

"Everything's documented. My lawyer has copies. So do the police." I looked at Sienna. "You knew about the gambling debts. You helped him forge my signature on the house papers. That makes you an accessory."

Sienna's mouth opened and closed. No sound came out.

The guests began filing out, uncomfortable, eager to escape. Damien's mother shot me a look of pure venom before sweeping toward the door. Within minutes, the room was nearly empty.

Only Calloway remained, leaning against the wall, watching with undisguised fascination.

Damien's mask finally cracked. "You vindictive bitch—"

"Careful." Calloway pushed off the wall, moving between us. "I'd hate for you to say something you'll regret in front of a witness."

Damien's hands clenched into fists, but he took a step back.

I swayed suddenly. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving exhaustion in its wake. Calloway's hand caught my elbow, steadying me.

"You should sit," he said quietly.

"I'm fine." But I wasn't. My legs felt like water.

He guided me to the couch without asking. Disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. I took it, surprised by the gesture.

"Thank you."

"Quite a show." He sat beside me—close but not crowding. "Though I'm curious what you think happens next."

"Next, I need somewhere to stay. And money for a lawyer." I met his gaze. "I wasn't lying about paying you back. But I need time."

Calloway was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was lower. "I have a better idea."

"What?"

"Marry me."

I blinked. "What?"

"A contractual marriage. One year." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "You get protection, resources for the baby, a roof over your head. A statement to everyone that you're not some abandoned, pregnant ex-wife."

"And what do you get?" I set down the water glass. "What does a billionaire need from a pregnant divorcée?"

His jaw tightened. For the first time, I saw something raw in his expression. "Someone who understands what it's like when the person you trust destroys you."

The words hung between us.

"You've been betrayed," I said softly.

"By someone I was supposed to marry. Multiple affairs." He looked away. "Seemed easier to throw myself into work than deal with it. But then I saw you up there, pregnant and fearless, burning your life down because you refused to be a victim." He turned back to me. "I respected it."

I studied him. This dangerous, powerful man with shadows in his eyes. "One year?"

"One year. After that, clean divorce. You keep whatever assets we accumulate together."

"I have conditions."

"Name them all."

I held out my hand. "Separate bedrooms. No physical intimacy. You pay all medical expenses for the baby. And when it's over, I want enough to start fresh. Really fresh."

His hand engulfed mine. Warm. Steady. The contact sent electricity up my arm. "Deal."

We signed papers. Right there. He'd brought his lawyer, apparently prepared for anything. Then he led me outside to a black Mercedes.

"Elena!"

Damien lunged from the bushes, grabbing my arm. His eyes were wild, desperate. "You think you can just leave me? That baby is MINE—"

Calloway's fist connected with Damien's jaw. One hit. Clean. Precise. Cold.

Damien crumpled.

Calloway opened the car door, helped me in like nothing had happened. "Seatbelt."

I buckled myself in, my hands shaking. Not from fear. From relief.

As we drove away, I caught Calloway's reflection in the rearview mirror. His expression was calm, controlled, but there was something protective in the set of his jaw.

For the first time since the rewind, I felt something other than rage.

I felt safe.

And that terrified me more than anything.