Chapter 3

Nina returned home and stood in the middle of the living room, the door closing behind her. Ian's face was still fresh in her mind.

She took out her phone and called the housekeeper. "Mrs. Walker, could you come over?"

Half an hour later, Nina sat on the couch as Mrs. Walker carried Ian's belongings out of the bedroom, one item at a time. There were clothes, shoes, books, and the music box he'd made for their first anniversary. It had sat on his nightstand ever since. Inside were miniature versions of the two of them, Ian performing magic tricks while Nina stood beside him, smiling.

"Throw it all out," Nina said.

Mrs. Walker hesitated, her arms full of his things. She looked as though she wanted to say something, but in the end, she left without a word.

Nina got up and walked over to the living room wall, where their wedding portrait still hung. It captured Ian on one knee before her, holding out a ring.

She fetched a chair, climbed onto it, and took down the frame. Carrying it into the courtyard, she set it on the ground, went back inside for a lighter, and set the picture on fire.

Nina crouched beside it, watching the flames rise. Ian's face slowly curled and blackened before crumbling into ash.

At this point, footsteps sounded behind her, followed by an enraged shout.

"Nina Shaw!"

Ian charged toward her like a madman, knocking her aside with his arm. She shifted slightly to keep her balance, her fingers curling almost imperceptibly at her sides.

Her gaze drifted over him as he threw himself toward the fire and began frantically beating at the flames with his bare hands. By the time he'd put them out, his palms were bright red and covered in blisters.

He didn't seem to notice. Dropping to his knees, he began desperately digging through the ashes, sending gray flakes swirling onto his hair and clothes.

Finally, he pulled out a photograph that had been hidden behind their wedding portrait.

It showed him and Willa standing close together, their eyes crinkled with happiness. Ian carefully wiped the soot from the picture with his sleeve, cradling it as though it were the most precious thing in the world.

Nina looked at the ashes of her wedding portrait scattered around his feet. A breeze carried the charred fragments across the toes of her shoes.

For a brief moment, something had stirred deep inside her, like a pebble disturbing the surface of a still lake. But the sight of Ian so desperately protecting that photograph crushed the feeling before it could take hold.

Their wedding portrait had hung on that wall for two years. It had been taken on the day they married, and she'd walked beneath it every single day without once thinking to look behind it.

All that time, he'd been hiding a picture of another woman.

When Ian turned and headed inside, Nina followed him.

He went straight to the bedroom and started searching. From the very back of the closet, he retrieved a metal box. He reached beneath the bed for a yellowed note, then pulled an old hair clip from between the pages of a book on the shelf.

Every single thing was connected to Willa.

Meanwhile, the gifts Nina had given him, the limited-edition magic props, custom cuff links, and hand-stitched suits, were tossed onto the floor without a second glance.

Nina stood in the doorway, watching silently as he searched the last corner of the room and packed everything he'd collected into a backpack.

When he picked up the bag and headed for the door, she stepped forward to block his path.

Ian stopped and looked up at her, impatience plain in his eyes.

"Move.

"You're the one who brought us to this, Nina. What's the point of trying to stop me now?"

She said nothing.

"I'm telling you right now," he continued, stepping closer, trying to intimidate her into backing down. "Even if you beg me to stay, I won't. Unless..."

He paused.

"Unless you apologize to Willa."

Nina didn't even look at him. Instead, she took out the divorce papers, turned to the last page, and held them out.

"Didn't you say we were even?" Her voice was quiet and utterly flat. "Sign these, and we will be."

Ian glanced down at the page, convinced it was just another attempt to force him to give in. Without bothering to give it much thought, he took the papers, grabbed a nearby pen, and scrawled his signature across the page before casually tossing them back at her.

"I'm not backing down." His eyes were cold, his expression resolute. "Nina, you can try to pressure me with this all you want, but unless you apologize to Willa, I'm certainly not coming back just because you want me to."

Nina caught the papers and glanced down at his signature. He'd barely bothered to write his name legibly.

When she looked up again, her expression was perfectly calm.

"Are you finished?"

Ian blinked, caught off guard.

Nina stepped aside, leaving the doorway clear.

"Then leave."

He didn't move.

There was no anger on her face, no desperation, not even a trace of the stubborn determination with which she'd once pursued him. She wasn't arguing with him or begging him to stay. All that relentless devotion he'd grown so accustomed to seemed to have vanished.

Something in Ian's stomach dropped.

"Nina, you..."

"Ian!"

Willa's voice came from outside.

Ian glanced over his shoulder, but by the time he turned back, Nina was already walking away.

He stood there with his backpack in hand, wanting to say something but unable to find the words.

"Ian?" Willa called again.

Clenching his jaw, he finally turned and left.

The elevator doors slid shut behind him.

Nina stood by the window, watching the two figures below grow smaller as they walked away. Ian strode ahead while Willa hurried along in little steps to catch up.

Once they disappeared into the distance, Nina turned away and picked up her phone. She took a picture of the signed divorce papers and sent it to Carter.

[Go ahead and file the paperwork.]

Then she lay down on the bed, closed her eyes, and fell into a deep sleep.