The One He Didn't Save

I was dead—tortured to death by Maverick Falkner's enemy.

When I opened my eyes again, I was a ghost, drifting in some beam of light that pulled me straight back to the Falkner estate.

First thing I saw? Maverick carrying his ex, Quincey Stafford, into the master bedroom—my bedroom.

He laid her down like she was glass, tucked the blanket around her.

She looked up at him, all soft and sweet, tugging his sleeve. "Maverick, this is you and Stella's room. I shouldn't be here."

Maverick was about to say something when the door creaked open.

"As long as I'm here, no one's got the guts to say a word to you," Maverick's mom, Lucinda, said, strolling in with a mug of honey-lemon tea. "The other rooms aren't cleaned yet. Just stay here. Don't worry about that spiteful girl."

"No one would dare," Maverick told Quincey with a soft smile—then his face iced over. "If Stella hadn't paid someone to fake that kidnapping, none of this would've happened. You wouldn't have had that asthma attack or messed up your leg."

I just stared at him.

He really believed I set that up?

Something tore through my chest. It didn't even feel human.

I remembered it all—how Tony—the guy leading the kidnappers—made Maverick choose. And how Maverick didn't even blink. Just picked Quincey and left me there, in that dark, reeking factory.

Once they were gone, Tony strung me up and started whipping me, harder every time.

"This is your fault. You're useless. Can't get me what I want. Should've taken Quincey."

He beat me like I was just collateral in his grudge against Maverick. Some dumb fallout with Maverick and I was the one who paid for it.

When he got bored, he brought in a doctor to rip out whatever parts of me were still worth anything.

Then he tossed my body in a trash heap like it meant nothing.

That's how my life ended.

I died like that—and Maverick thought I made it all up.

I should've known. He never cared. If it weren't for his grandma—Grandma Rosalee—he wouldn't have married me. Not in a million years.

"I don't even know what I did to make her hate me like this." Quincey looked up at him, tears pouring, voice shaking. "Thank God you came in time. I was so scared I'd never see you again."

She knew the kidnappers came because of Maverick. She knew. And she still flipped it, pinned it on me.

What hurt the most? Maverick bought it.

After more than twenty years together, he didn't trust me at all.

"Maverick, I knew you still had feelings for me." Quincey's voice dripped with hope. She reached for his face—he swerved like her touch burned.

Clearing his throat, he looked away. "Get some rest. Don't overthink it."

Lucinda piped up as he turned to leave. "Where are you going?"

"Office stuff." He didn't even glance back.

I had no choice but to trail him into the study, still tethered to him like some ghost on a leash.

He dropped onto the couch, jaw tight, eyes distant.

Then his phone lit up. He stood, answered by the window. With every word, his face just kept getting darker.

"Have her lawyer bring the documents."

Lawyer? Oh—right.

A week before everything went to hell, I'd gone to the best firm in the city and asked for divorce papers.

I was done. I didn't wanna be that bitter wife stuck in a one-sided marriage. Clinging to a guy who never saw me? No thanks.

Maverick had promised we'd take a trip. Classic him—ditched me last minute. For Quincey.

The papers never even made it to him before I got kidnapped.

And the worst part? He didn't even look into it. Just assumed I faked the whole thing for attention.

The second he chose to believe that—without blinking—it felt like dropping straight into an ice bath.

***

When the lawyer showed up, Maverick shoved my photo at her.

"Ms. Olshan, you sure this is the woman who asked for the divorce?"

His voice was clipped, sharp. Like he was one second away from snapping.

Ms. Olshan looked like she'd rather be anywhere else. Voice shaky, eyes darting.

"Yes, it was her. We were supposed to finalize things today, but she ghosted me. So... I came here."