9

EVERLY'S POV

Spencer looked like total trash from up here.

I stood on the balcony, my fingers white from gripping the cold stone railing. Below me, that orange Lamborghini he used to show off to everyone looked like a cheap plastic toy parked in the wrong driveway. It didn't smell like success anymore; it smelled like burnt rubber from him slamming the brakes on my marble tiles.

"He’s got balls, I’ll give him that," Steve’s voice came from behind.

I didn't turn around. I could feel him standing right next to me, the heat from his body soaking through the thin fabric of my dress. Steve didn't waste time with poetic descriptions; he just stood there, watching the gate like he was waiting for a late delivery, not my frantic ex-husband.

"He’s down there screaming about his 'legal rights,'" Steve snorted. He sounded genuinely amused. "You want me to have the guards break his nose now, or do you want to watch him crawl for a bit?"

"Open the gate," I said flatly. "I want him to see exactly what he threw away."

Steve didn't ask questions. He signaled his security team. A few seconds later, that noisy engine roared up the driveway toward the main entrance. Spencer scrambled out of the car before the engine had even fully died.

He was a mess. His suit was wrinkled, his tie was crooked, and his hair—usually slicked back with expensive pomade—looked like a bird's nest. He looked up, squinting at the balcony, and for a split second, I remembered why I had once loved him. But that feeling vanished the moment he opened his mouth.

"Everly!" he barked, his voice cracking like a kid going through puberty. "Stop playing games! Who the hell do you think you are?! You can't just shut down my office! We’re still married—everything you bought with Chandler money is half mine!"

I just leaned against the railing, looking down at him. I didn't need to yell. I just needed to stay silent.

"Answer me!" he screamed again, trying to lung for the stairs before two of Steve’s guards pinned him down. "I made a mistake with Hailey! She’s nothing! We can fix this, Ev! Remember the house we dreamed about? We can build it now!"

"I burned that house down, Spencer," I said, loud enough for him to hear. "And right now, I’m standing on the ashes."

Steve stepped forward, sliding his hand onto my waist. There was no 'predatory grace' or flowery nonsense. He just put his hand there, possessive, letting Spencer know there was no more room for him in this life.

Spencer went dead quiet. He stared at Steve’s hand, then at the ruby ring on my finger. His face, which had been bright red from screaming, turned a sickly shade of gray—like he’d just seen a ghost.

"You... you’re with Steve Sterling?" he whispered, his voice shaking. "Since when?"

"Since I realized you were just a loser in an expensive suit," I said, hitting him right where it hurt.

"Get him out of here," Steve told his men. "And impound the car. The loan was called in this morning, so technically, this is my car now."

As the guards dragged Spencer—who was actually sobbing now like a toddler—back toward the car, I didn't feel sad. I felt clean. Like I’d finally taken out the trash that had been rotting in my kitchen for months.

Steve didn't let go of my waist. He turned me around to face him. His eyes weren't like obsidian; they were just the eyes of a man who was half-laughing and half-bloodthirsty.

"Satisfied?" he asked.

"Not yet," I said honestly. "I want him to be completely paralyzed in front of everyone at the Gala."

Steve leaned in, his forehead against mine. It wasn't poetic; it was just close enough that I could smell the bitter coffee on his breath. "Two days, Everly. After that, Spencer Knox will be the biggest joke in Chicago."

He led me back inside, leaving Spencer’s distant screams behind. Inside, Arthur was waiting with a stack of paperwork that made my head spin.

"His assets are wiped, Miss Chandler," Arthur said. "He literally owns nothing but the clothes on his back."

"Good," I said, sitting in my father’s massive desk chair. "Make sure Hailey gets a VIP invitation in the very front row. I want her to see what it’s like to win a 'prize' that’s already broken."

Steve laughed—the kind of laugh a guy has when he’s really enjoying a disaster. "I didn't think you could be this ruthless."

"I learned from the best," I said.

I looked at the ring on my finger. Dark, sharp, and red. I couldn't wait for the Gala. I wanted to watch them drown while I stood on the stage holding a glass of champagne.