Chapter 2

Alice’s POV

I stared at him, my lips parting, then pressing together again because I could feel Lily watching me like she was studying a specimen. I swallowed, forcing my voice to work. “No. I don’t want divorce.” My words came out raw, cracked with cold and exhaustion. I lifted my chin anyway and made myself meet his eyes. “I’ve loved you for ten years. I can’t just end our relationship like this.”

Lily’s mouth twitched, almost a smile, almost pity. She tucked closer into David’s space, as if she needed the world to see where she belonged.

David’s expression hardened into something that looked like disgust. I saw it in the way his eyes narrowed, in the way he tilted his head like he was confirming a theory he’d held for years. He didn’t touch me, but I felt slapped anyway.

He dismissed me with disdain, his whole face saying, I knew it. “You really are a greedy woman,” he said. “My patience is limited. Leave now and accept my terms sensibly, or I’ll have my solicitor speak with you.”

Greedy.

The word made my cheeks burn. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms. “Greedy?” I echoed, breath shaking. “You think I’m out here freezing because I want money?”

His gaze flicked over me, cold and clinical. “Don’t pretend you’re noble. You got what you wanted three years ago.”

Lily’s eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t say a word. She just kept leaning on him, soft and silent, the perfect grieving widow, the perfect fragile woman who somehow always ended up protected.

Survived. Like I was a problem that hadn’t died fast enough.

I understood then, with a sick clarity, that in order to rid himself of me, he’d already decided to crush me. Not emotionally, he’d done that years ago. Professionally. Publicly. Legally. The Neighley family did not lose. They didn’t compromise. They didn’t negotiate. They annihilated.

The solicitors of the Neighley Group were famously undefeated. Everyone knew it. The Neighley family maintained a team of notoriously ruthless solicitors at considerable expense each year, like guard dogs trained to tear apart anyone who stepped too close to the family name.

I forced my shoulders back, even as my throat threatened to close. “So that’s it?” I asked, my voice rising despite my efforts. “You’re going to threaten me with your lawyers because I won’t quietly disappear?”

His face didn’t change. “I expect you to consider this carefully,” he said. “Contact me when you’ve made up your mind.”

He turned to the car, opened the back door, and retrieved my handbag with calm, measured movements. Then he walked back to me and placed it in my hands. His fingers brushed mine for less than a second. He even looked, for the briefest moment, like the kind of man who could be called gentlemanly.

Still so gentlemanly, I thought bitterly, though I knew it was ingrained breeding, not tenderness toward me.

My fingers tightened around the bag strap, and my eyes stung again. “David,” I said, softer now, because apparently I never learned, “is there really nothing in you that feels… anything?you’re standing here talking about my ‘price’ like you’re buying a car.”

His jaw flexed. For a moment I thought he might snap, might reveal some sliver of guilt or grief. Instead he said, “This is exactly why we’re divorcing. You’re always dramatic.”

Lily finally spoke, voice gentle and carefully controlled. “Alice, please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

I turned my head slowly toward her, and the cold in my chest transformed into something sharp. “Harder?” I repeated, incredulous. My laugh came out jagged. “You slept with his cousin the night I ruined my life, you married that cousin, you just became a widow, and now you’re sitting in my husband’s car like you own him. You’re telling me not to make it hard?”

Her eyes glistened. If she’d been alone, maybe I would’ve believed the tears. But pressed against David’s shoulder, looking safe and cherished, she looked like a saint in a painting.

David’s voice cut in like a blade. “Enough.”

I flinched. I hated that I flinched. I hated that my body still responded to him like he had power over me, because he did.

He stepped back, then strode away without a backward glance, already finished with me. Lily lingered half a second longer, her gaze sliding over my face. There was something there, something private, almost triumphant, almost sad. Then she shut the door and the car rolled away, smooth and expensive, leaving me standing in the driveway with my bag in my hands and my heart cracking open in silence.

My face felt ashen. My knees wobbled as I turned toward the house

Inside, the air smelled faintly of polish and flowers, too clean, too perfect. The hallway lights were warm. Everything was warm. It made me furious.

I walked in, my heels still in my hand, and my voice came out hoarse as I called, “Run a bath. Now.”

A maid stood near the entry table, the same maid who used to greet me with a smile, the same maid who used to call me “Mrs. Neighley” with forced respect. She didn’t move. She looked me up and down slowly, deliberately, and her mouth twisted into contempt.

Heat flared in my cheeks, humiliation crawling up my neck. I set my heels down carefully, refusing to let my hands shake. “Did you hear me?” I asked, forcing steadiness into my tone.

She didn’t answer immediately. She only gave me that look, the one that said: you’re finished. The once affable servants had changed their tune, sneering behind eyes that used to be polite. I could practically hear what they’d been saying when I wasn’t around, the same poison I’d overheard before. Shameless woman. Not worthy of Mr. Neighley in every way. Parasite. Only here because I married into wealth.

I stared at her, and my voice lowered. “Run the bath.”

She sniffed, finally moving, but the motion was slow, disrespectful. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, and the sarcasm in those two words landed like a slap. Then she added, as if she couldn’t resist, “Miss Lily has always been so accomplished. An intern at Shengxin Law Firm at such a young age. People say she’s brilliant.”

I felt my stomach twist. I forced my mouth into a thin smile, the kind you wear when you’re trying not to scream. “Good for her,” I said, my voice tight.

The maid’s eyes glittered with satisfaction, like she’d won something by hurting me. “Some people,” she said, “earn their place. Others just marry into it.”

I didn’t answer. If I opened my mouth, I might’ve said something that would give her the satisfaction of seeing me unravel. So I walked past her, each step heavy, and locked myself in the bathroom.

When the shower water hit my skin, I closed my eyes and let my shoulders sag for the first time. I stood there and tried to wash away the night, the cold, the sight of Lily leaning into my husband like she belonged there. I pressed my palm to the tile, breathing hard, feeling the ache in my chest throb with every inhale.

Then my phone chimed from my bag on the counter.

The sound made me jump. My hands fumbled for it, fingers clumsy. I stared at the screen, expecting another humiliation, another message from someone in the family, another reminder that I was disposable.

Instead, an offer letter popped up.

I wasn’t surprised by the email notification; such invitations had been constant for the past three years, arriving like ghosts of the life I used to have, the life I’d put on pause for a marriage that was never real.

It was an offer from Sidley Austin, inviting me to become their Chief Legal Officer.

My heart thudded, not with pain this time, but with something that felt almost unfamiliar. Power. Possibility. Sidley Austin, one of the world’s largest and most prestigious law firms, a true full service giant. Renowned for its formidable capabilities in mergers and acquisitions, litigation, and regulatory affairs, it was the kind of place people whispered about with reverence and fear, a veritable Wall Street butcher.

I stared at the email until the steam blurred my vision, then I stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel with shaking hands. My reflection in the mirror looked exhausted. Pale. Furious. Alive.

For three years, I had ignored offers like this because I thought if I just tried harder, if I just stayed softer, if I just stayed loyal, David might choose me. I’d convinced myself love was something you could earn through patience and sacrifice.

I laughed once, sharp and quiet, and the sound startled me. Then I typed with damp fingers, my jaw clenched, my eyes burning with a different kind of fire.

“I will consider this offer.”

For three years, for the first time, I hesitated, then finally sent it.