{ FOUR }

ALICE

For a full second, Monica’s name on the screen didn’t make sense.

I grabbed the phone off the nightstand and stared at it, still half asleep, trying to understand why she would be calling me this early. Then the call ended.

Morning light stretched across the bed in pale stripes. My ankle throbbed the second I moved it.

The phone rang again. I answered this time.

“Catherine.” Monica didn’t bother with hello. Her voice came sharp and furious straight away. “Where the hell are you? We’ve been knocking.”

I pushed myself upright slowly, my body still heavy from last night. Then a loud knock hit the door downstairs before I could even stand fully.

Another one followed. Harder. Impatient.

I limped down the stairs and opened the door. Monica slapped me before I properly saw her face.

My head turned with the force of it. Heat spread slowly across my cheek.

“You shameless woman.” She pushed past me immediately. “Dancing with my son in front of everyone like some desperate little whore—”

Melissa walked in behind her. I closed the door quietly.

Monica spun back toward me, anger tightening every line of her face. “You’ve embarrassed this family enough,” she snapped. “You came into this house because my husband pitied you. That’s all it was. His soft heart.” Her mouth tightened briefly. “God rest his soul.” She stepped closer. “You spent three years pretending that made you one of us.”

Her voice dropped colder. “It didn’t.” I stared at her without saying anything.

Her eyes flicked to the mark rising on my cheek.

“You really thought dancing with him would change something?” she asked. “Vaylen loves Melissa. They’re getting married. And you’re still here embarrassing yourself over a man who has never looked at you and seen something worth keeping.”

Melissa stayed near the window the entire time. Silent. Watching.

I said nothing back.

My fingers curled once against my palm. Monica let out a harsh laugh. “Nothing? You don’t even have anything to say for yourself?”

Then the elevator doors opened behind her. The room went quiet immediately.

Vaylen walked in carrying a large overnight bag. Reno followed behind him with two more.

Black leather. New. My eyes moved over them once before lifting back to Vaylen.

“Whose bags are those?” I asked.

“How dare you—” Monica started.

Vaylen lifted one hand slightly without looking at her. She stopped talking instantly.

“They’re Melissa’s.” He said it while looking directly at me. No hesitation. No attempt to soften it.

Something cold settled heavily in my chest. “Our marriage isn’t even dissolved yet,” I said quietly. “She’s already moving in?”

Melissa walked past me like I wasn’t even there. Her fingers brushed lightly over the back of the sofa, the dining table, the windowsill. Vaylen reached into his jacket and handed me a folded document.

I took it without opening it.

“My lawyers will finalize the settlement in four days,” he said.

His voice was flat again. I looked at him carefully.

This wasn’t the man from last night. Not the one whose hand tightened at my waist during the dance. Not the one who touched my knuckles like he forgot himself for a second.

That version of him was gone. What stood in front of me now was the Vaylen Morgan everyone else knew — composed, distant, impossible to reach.

I folded the papers once and kept them at my side. Then another knock came from the door.

Vaylen crossed the room and opened it. “My name is Michael.”

Everything in me went still.

“I’m here to see Catherine.”

The room shifted instantly. Every pair of eyes turned toward me.

I walked to the door slowly while Michael stepped inside, calm, carrying the same steady energy he had the night before. Without saying much, he opened his hand.

My wedding ring sat in the center of his palm. Only then did I notice my finger was bare.

“I found it in my car this morning,” he said simply. “Thought it might belong to you.”

Monica reacted immediately.

“Last night?” she repeated slowly. Then louder, sharper: “You were with another man last night?”

“I drove her home,” Michael said evenly. “She didn’t have her phone or wallet with her. I offered to help.”

“And we’re supposed to believe—”

“Mom.” Vaylen’s voice cut across the room cleanly. Monica stopped talking.

The silence afterward felt different. I looked toward Vaylen.

He was staring at Michael with an expression I couldn’t quite read. Then he looked away first.

“Thank you,” he said to Michael. “You can leave now.”

Michael looked at me instead. I gave him a small nod.

He left without another word. The second the door shut behind him, Monica started again — furious, relentless, finding fresh ways to repeat the same insults.

I barely listened. My attention stayed on Vaylen.

He picked up his keys from the counter with that same controlled precision.

“I’m leaving for France tonight,” he said. Then he looked at me. “In four days, we'll meet with the lawyers when I get back.” Then he walked out.

Melissa followed him without even glancing at me. Monica lingered at the door for a second, like she wanted it clear she was leaving by choice, not because anyone dismissed her.

Then she left too. The penthouse went completely silent after that.

I sat alone at the dining table with the papers spread out in front of me. The legal language blurred together after a while.

Seventy-five million dollars. Two cars. A house on Western Island.

I read the numbers twice. Then I set the papers flat on the table and stared at them for a moment.

That was what three years of my life had been reduced to. I picked up the pen. Signed where I was supposed to sign. Then I reached the settlement section and stopped.

My hand stayed there for a few seconds. I looked at the figure again. The cars. The house.

Slowly, I drew one line through all of it. Then I wrote in the margin beside it.

*Declined.*

I signed beneath it again, folded the papers carefully along the original creases, and placed them back in the center of the table. I set the pen beside them, then I stood up and walked to the bedroom.

I stood in front of the open wardrobe and packed quickly. I only took the things that belonged to me before I became Catherine Morgan.

Clothes I’d bought with my own money. Shoes I’d owned before Vaylen’s credit cards ever entered my life. Small pieces of the person I used to be.

Everything he had ever given me stayed where it was. I didn’t want to carry any part of this marriage with me once I left it.

I grabbed my old phone from the nightstand and slipped it into my bag. Then I opened the Uber app and booked a ride to the airport.

I stood near the entrance with my bag beside me and looked around the penthouse one last time. The marble floors. The tall windows. The carefully chosen furniture in colors I never would’ve picked myself.

Three years living inside someone else’s preferences. Someone else’s silence. Someone else’s idea of home.

I turned toward the door. Then my reflection caught in the hallway mirror, and I stopped without really thinking about it.

For a second, I just stood there looking at myself. Then slowly, I rested a hand against my stomach.

Just the two of us. *We’re leaving now,* I thought. *We’ll be okay.*

I picked up my bag and walked out.