Chapter Two: From his wife to his victim.

I barely slept.

The hotel mattress was too soft. The air conditioner too loud. And no matter how tightly I closed my eyes, all I could see was Lucas’s face, the cold way he looked at me when he said, “I no longer have use for you.”

I turned to my side and checked the clock—7:12 a.m. The sun had barely risen, but I knew sleep wasn’t coming back.

The dress I’d worn to my father’s funeral still lay crumpled near the foot of the bed, like a ghost I couldn’t shake off. My head ached. My limbs felt heavy. My heart? Nonexistent. Or maybe just buried in the same ground as my father.

I slowly sat up and dragged myself to the edge of the bed.

There, on the small round table near the window, the divorce papers still waited. Neat. Clean. Ruthless.

I stared at them like maybe if I kept looking, they’d disappear.

Like this was some cruel dream and I’d wake up in my husband’s arms any minute now.

It didn’t make sense.

Just last week, Lucas had brought home takeout and kissed me on the forehead while I watched a show he hated. He had kissed my shoulder while I brushed my teeth. Just last week, he had whispered that I was everything. Now he wanted me gone?

No. This isn’t real.

Maybe it was grief. Maybe losing my father had triggered something in him. Lucas wasn’t good at emotions. Maybe he was overwhelmed. Lost. Lashing out. Maybe… maybe there was still something worth saving.

I gripped the edge of the mattress, digging my nails into the fabric.

I could fix this.

I just needed to talk to him. Remind him of what we had.

People don’t just fall out of love in a day. Right?

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, yanking me from my thoughts. 

I grabbed it without thinking.

Unknown Caller.

I hesitated before answering.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Blackwell?” The voice was clipped, professional. A little rushed. “This is Howard Beckett. Your father’s attorney.”

I sat up straighter. “Mr. Howard. Is—Is everything okay?”

“No,” he said plainly. “And I need you in my office. Immediately.”

Mr. Howard’s office felt colder than usual. Maybe it was the glass walls or the way everyone avoided looking at me as I walked past.

He didn’t offer condolences. No small talk. Just pointed toward a chair and dropped a thick file in front of me.

“I don’t know how this happened,” he said. “But everything’s gone.”

I blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Your father’s shares. The company. The trusts. Every financial asset he left behind, Everything tied to his name, and yours. It’s all been transferred.”

I frowned. “Transferred to who?”

He paused, like saying the name would hurt more than the truth. 

“Your husband, Lucas Blackwell.”

I let out a laugh. Not because it was funny, but because it was insane. “No. That’s not—no, that’s impossible. My father wouldn’t; he didn’t trust Lucas with business matters. He barely even let him sign checks.”

“I know,” Mr. Howard said grimly. “But months ago, your father signed a temporary power of attorney. It was supposed to be for medical emergencies only. Somehow, Lucas used it to move everything. Quietly. Strategically. Legally.”

I stood abruptly. “No. You’re wrong. There has to be a mistake.”

“I wish there was,” he said softly. “But Claire, the documentation is airtight. Your signature isn’t on anything. Neither is your father’s—recently, I mean. Lucas executed everything without red flags. No alerts. It’s almost  like he planned this from the start.”

“No,” I shook my head, backing away from the desk. “Lucas wouldn’t do that. He’s upset, yes, but he wouldn’t take advantage of my father, of me.”

Howard’s silence said it all.

I didn’t remember the drive to Lucas’s office. I barely remembered grabbing my purse or storming out of the building. I must’ve been speeding, but all I could hear was the sound of my pulse thudding in my ears and the fire building in my chest as I pulled up to the Backwell Holdings Headquarters.

The front security didn’t stop me. Of course not, He knew my face. Everyone here did. I was his wife after all, at least on paper.

Amanda, Lucas’s longtime assistant, stood up from her desk the moment I pushed through the glass doors on the top floor.

“Mrs. Blackwell, I—”

“Don’t,” I said, brushing past her.

“You can’t go in. Mr. Blackwell is—”

“I’ve been here a hundred times. I don’t need an appointment to speak to my own husband.”

“Ma’am, please—he asked not to be disturbed.”

I didn’t care.

For longer than I can count, I walked into this office without knocking. Without scheduling. Without even thinking. It was our norm. Our routine. I was his wife.

But now Amanda looked at me like I was a stranger. Like I no longer belonged here. 

Still,  I shoved the door open like I belonged there.

Lucas sat behind his desk, scrolling through a tablet, calm as ever. When he looked up, there wasn’t even surprise in his eyes.

“I need to talk to you,” I said breathlessly. “Now.”

He set the tablet down slowly. “You shouldn’t be here, Claire.”

“I just came from Mr. Howard’s office,” I said. “He said…everything. All of it. It’s in your name now. There has to be some kind of mistake.” 

Lucas leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing. “There’s no mistake.”

I stared at him. “I don’t understand. Why would you do this? You said you wanted a divorce, not to destroy me.”

He let out a low, bitter laugh. “Christ, Claire. Don’t you get it?”

I didn’t respond.

He stood up, hands slamming on the desk, voice raised. “You’re done. DONE. This marriage. Your little inheritance. The company. It's over. The sooner you sign those papers, the better it’ll be for you.”

I froze. 

The words didn’t compute. I stood there, mouth opening and closing, but nothing came out. Just fragments. Gibberish. Air. 

Lucas shook his head like I was a child throwing a tantrum. “I have work to do. Please see yourself out.”

I didn’t move. I couldn’t. 

Amanda was already at the door, gently but firmly guiding me out. I didn’t even argue.

When I looked back, Lucas had already returned to his tablet.

As I walked down the hallway, Amanda glanced at me. Her lips didn’t move, but her eyes said enough.

I’m sorry.

Back at the hotel, I collapsed on the bed fully clothed. The tears finally came—but they weren’t loud. They weren’t wild. They were silent. The kind that soaked into pillows and left you shaking from the inside out.

I pressed my hand to my stomach. 

The life inside me pulsed quietly. Waiting. Innocent.

Just days ago, I’d been practicing how to surprise him with the news. I had bought a little pair of socks, wrapped them in a box. I thought he’d smile. Maybe even cry.

But now?

Now, he would never know. He didn’t deserve to.

Not after this. 

He didn’t want me?

Fine.

With a newfound determination, I picked up the divorce papers and signed them before I could talk myself out of it. 

One day, Lucas Blackwell would regret ever letting me go.

And when that day came…

I’d be the one holding all the power.