10

(Third Person POV)

The next morning, Richard signed the discharge papers with a practiced flourish and handed Sloane a small white bag containing a change of clothes the nurses had found in storage—plain gray sweatpants, a soft black T-shirt, and a pair of inexpensive sneakers.

Maxwell waited just outside the ward doors, already dressed in another immaculate charcoal suit, the kind that whispered money without needing a label.

Sloane stepped out slowly, the IV bruise on the back of her hand still purple. She felt hollow, as though someone had scooped out the middle of her and left only the shell.

Maxwell’s gaze flicked over her once, assessing her, then they both walked out of the hospital, he opened the passenger door of the black Rolls Royce Phantom for her.

“Thank you sir.” She whispered.

“It's Maxwell, you aren't working for me.” Maxwell murmured as he sat in the car, his hands on the steering wheel.

Sloane bit her lips and looked at him.

“Thank you for helping me, I really appreciate it.” She said,

“Where are we going now?” He asked.

“Kaelan…” she bashed her lashes. “Uhm…I mean my husband's mansion.”

“It's okay to tell me the truth, does he hit you? And who the fuck is this dude?” Maxwell asked, he finds it so annoying knowing her husband isn't with her when he had brutal sex with her.

“I…it's nothing, I would actually sleep on the street before than to go back to him but I don't know anywhere in this city at all.” She said, her father doesn’t let her explore and she can't lose her life on the street.

Maxwell sighed, he started the engine and drove out of the hospital gate.

The drive was so quiet, none of them said a word to each other. Maxwell's car moved through traffic like it owned every lane; other drivers instinctively gave way.

Sloane stared out the window, recognizing fewer and fewer landmarks until the familiar wrought-iron gates of the Thorne estate.

Kaelan’s mansion was behind high walls and manicured hedges, the kind of old money that tried very hard to look effortless.

It was impressive—marble columns, wide circular driveway, security cameras blinking like small red eyes—but it was not Maxwell territory.

Maxwell’s world existed several rungs higher, where people spoke his name with a mixture of envy and caution.

He parked at the other side in front of the big gate, engine still running, and looked at her.

“So your husband lives here? He's rich?” He looked at the mansion before staring at her.

“Yeah,” Sloane nodded in agreement, rich and brutal though.

“I’ll wait here until you enter,” he said, studying her expression.

Sloane didn't make any attempt to leave, she wished she could just go with him.

“And can I have your number?” Maxwell said, already brought out his phone.

“I don't have a phone.” She murmured.

His jaw dropped. “Why? How old are you and you don't have a phone?”

She said nothing, she's twenty three years old and it's a shame she doesn't have a phone!

Sloane swallowed her fear. She nodded once, opened the door, and stepped out.

Maxwell ruffled his hair, “That husband of hers should meet me one day, I swear I'm gonna kill him.” Normally, Maxwell doesn't intervene in other people's affairs but hers is just too irresistible for him.

He drove away from the spot.

****

The gate intercom remained silent no matter how many times Sloane pressed the button. Minutes stretched.

Her hair clung to her neck. She wrapped her arms around herself and stared at the house that had never really been hers.

Finally the heavy front gate opened and Kaelan Thorne appeared.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a navy shirt open at the collar as though he had been interrupted in the middle of something more important.

His expression when he saw her was pure ice.

“You’re still alive,” he said. “Disappointing, but I'm glad you came back.”

Sloane flinched. “Kaelan… please listen to me, you have to believe me, Lark is lying…I need to come in…just for a little while. I have nowhere…”

Lark also came to join him, she showed Sloane her fingers beaming.

“Sister, I'm engaged, your plan failed.” She laughed, mocking her.

Kaelan kissed Lark right in front of her, before looking back at her again.

Sloane said nothing, her hands trembled at her side, and she felt some emotions at once. She'd be pained if Kaelan hasn't been mentioning Lark’s name even when he fucks her.

From inside his jacket he produced a thick envelope and flung it at her feet.

“Divorce papers,” he said. “Sign them. Or don’t. I don’t care, you’re out either way.”

“I'll advise you to sign them, you've no choice.” Lark grinned.

Sloane stared down at the scattered pages.

“Lark is lying, she ran away with her lover.” She said, her voice cracked.

“Shut up, there was no Maxwell, you're the one who kidnapped me!” Lark snapped.“Just sign the divorce papers and leave here.”

Kaelan’s mouth twisted. “Lark was the one with the real inheritance, the one who actually belonged in this family. You were the substitute. The spare. And you’ve been a constant reminder of everything I lost the day she disappeared.” His voice dropped, venomous. “I hate looking at your face and fucking you was just to let you feel the pain I felt for marrying you.”

Tears burned hot behind Sloane’s eyes, Lark and Kaelan smiled with satisfaction.

She bent down gathering the papers with shaking hands.

“Where will she go, Kaelan?” Lark pouted as if she cared.

“She can go to hell, who cares?” Kaelan rolled his eyes and they both turned, leaving her there, the gate locked.