Reborn Before The Apocalypse:My Husband Will Beg

“Sign it, Lucan. Page four too.”He stared at the divorce papers on the kitchen table, then at me. I had been up since five, dressed, packed, and calm. In six years he had never seen me calm.“You’re serious.”“The compliance office, or your signature. Pick one.”He laughed, short and sharp, and I watched him do the math. A lender with a deadline. A wife whose savings he could no longer reach. A firm that would not forgive a screenshot. And under all of it, one comfortable belief: Ione always comes back.He signed with a flourish, like a man being generous to a child. “When you come crawling, don’t expect me to forgive you right away.”I checked both signatures before I answered. “I won’t be back.”He was still smirking when I walked out. I let him. Men who smirk don’t check the mail.I took off my wedding ring in the elevator and dropped it into the pocket of my coat, where it clinked against my keys. It felt lighter than I expected. I did not look back at the building. I had spent s

“Baby, I was wrong. Please. Just let me in.”Lucan’s voice came through the gate speaker on the ninth of October, thin and rehearsed. On the monitor he stood at the iron gate in his navy suit with white roses in one hand. Behind him, Sabine sat in the passenger seat of a dented sedan, sunglasses on.Beside me, Kellan Rourke folded his arms. I had hired him four days ago through a veterans’ security firm: thirties, Marine posture, a gaze that missed nothing. He hadn’t asked why a woman living alone on a mountain needed thermal cameras and a night patrol. He had walked the property for three hours, made a list, and started work.On his first morning he had asked only one question. “Who are we expecting?” I told him, “Not who. When.” He nodded as if that were a perfectly reasonable answer and went back to measuring sight lines. By the third day he had two of his men on the property, Teodor and Soren, and a rotation that left no blind spot on the road. I had never seen anyone build a defe