Chapter 3

I stared at Ronin, who was so sure I was a thief.

I felt nothing.

"I'll say it once more. I didn't take it." I raised my suitcase handle. "Think I did? Call the cops."

Ronin blocked the door, eyes cold.

"The cops?" He laughed. "Haven't you embarrassed yourself enough? Kelly only told me because she wanted to spare you the humiliation. Don't be ungrateful."

Before I could answer, my phone buzzed.

Felicity.

The second I picked up, her panicked voice came through the phone.

"Helen, check social media. Kelly's lost it!"

I opened the app.

Kelly had just posted a long update.

[I always thought treating people well would keep things peaceful, but some people are rotten to the core. Losing a necklace isn't a big deal. Living with someone who has severe depression, manic episodes, and a habit of stealing is terrifying. I hope a certain someone gets help before she hurts anyone.]

She attached a stock photo of her Bulgari necklace and a medical record from the Metropolitan Center for Mental Health.

My name was on it.

[Helen Hart]

[Diagnosis: Severe depression with mild manic tendencies]

It was dated five years ago, right after my grandmother died.

The darkest time of my life.

I barely slept. My hair fell out in clumps. I'd even thought about hurting myself.

Ronin was the one who took me to a therapist.

I'd kept that record locked in the bottom drawer of our dresser.

My hands shook.

Not from anger.

From a chill that sank into my bones.

I looked at Ronin.

"How did she get my medical record?"

He glanced at the screen, already annoyed.

"It's a five-year-old medical record. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?"

My breath caught.

He didn't ask why Kelly went through my things.

Or why she'd exposed my darkest secret online.

He just frowned like I was another problem.

"Kelly meant well. She was worried you'd lose control and hurt someone. She was warning people." He looked down at me. "Stop assuming the worst."

His voice turned cold.

"Give back the necklace. I'm already being generous by not calling the cops."

I stared at him.

Five years ago, he'd carried me through the rain, mud and all, with real concern in his eyes.

Now...

He actually thought I should be grateful for the humiliation.

"Ronin Dudley," I said softly. "Do you even hear yourself?"

His face hardened.

"Helen, how much longer do you think I'm going to put up with this?"

I said nothing.

Right in front of him, I emptied my suitcase.

Faded jeans.

Clearance sweaters.

A few pairs of cheap underwear.

When it was empty, I kicked it toward him.

"Check for yourself. The necklace isn't here."

Ronin stared at it, frowning.

"Maybe you already pawned it." He gave a cold laugh. "Funny how that sixty grand showed up right on time."

I packed my clothes again, then looked him in the eye.

"Ronin."

"Let's get divorced."