All Chapters of Divorced By Dawn Queen By Dusk : Chapter 1 - Chapter 8

The champagne was cold. The lingerie was silk. The elevator smelled like jasmine—Lila's perfume, the one Damian had once pressed his nose into her neck to memorize. She rode up to the forty-second floor the same way she had a hundred times before: key card tucked in her clutch, heels quiet against the marble, heart already soft at the thought of him. Three years. Three secret, beautiful, complicated years. And tonight she was ending the secrecy. Tonight they were finally going public. She had the papers in her bag to prove it—not divorce papers. A new lease. A new life. She'd planned to lay them on the counter beside the champagne and watch his face crack open with joy. The penthouse door was unlocked. She pushed it open, smiling, the bottle already in her hand. "Damian? I know you said eight, but I couldn't—" She stopped. The champagne didn't fall. Her smile didn't fall. Nothing fell. Everything simply went very, very still. Damian had a woman pressed against the kitchen islan

The helicopter lifted off the hotel rooftop at 2 a.m. and Manhattan tilted away beneath them—all that glittering grief shrinking to something small and manageable, the way pain sometimes does when you put enough altitude between yourself and it. Lila sat between Tyler and Gavin with her coat still buttoned to the throat and her hands folded in her lap and said nothing for the entire twelve-minute flight. She was learning the brothers by sound. Alexander spoke only when necessary—short, precise sentences that landed like verdicts. Marcus talked too much, filling silence the way people do when they've spent years being the funny one because being the honest one hurt too much. Tyler watched. Gavin sprawled like a man who'd never been uncomfortable in his life. Nolan, seated across from her, kept stealing glances at her face as though checking for cracks. She didn't give him any. Kingsley Tower came into view through the curved window—sixty-two floors of dark glass and clean vertical l

Some things start as performance. Then they don't. The dress was not her idea. It was midnight blue — deep and dark, the color of the sky right before a storm decides what it wants to be. It had no back to speak of. The front was perfectly restrained, high-necked, professional even, which made the absence of fabric everywhere else feel like a statement. Marcus had picked it. He'd had it delivered to her suite at the Kingsley penthouse at four in the afternoon with a note that said: First impressions last forever. Make his jaw unhinge. — M. She wore it. She wore it because Marcus was right, and also because she had learned, in the last thirty-six hours, that the woman who walked out of that elevator with nothing but a purse and her dignity deserved to walk into this gala looking like she'd been the one in charge the whole time. Kane was waiting for her in the lobby of Kingsley Tower at seven. He didn't look up from his phone when the elevator opened. He looked up two seconds late

She told Kane about the photograph at breakfast.She laid her phone on the kitchen island face-up and watched him look at it — the hotel bathroom, the test in the bin, the two pink lines that were nobody's business but hers and now apparently someone else's. His jaw set in the way she was beginning to recognize: a line being crossed, a decision being made, very calmly."Alexander knows?" he asked."First thing this morning. He's running the trace. Relay routing — it'll take a day or two.""And the pregnancy. Who else knows?""The brothers. You now, apparently." She took her phone back. "And whoever sent this."He looked up at her then. Something careful and deliberate. "Are you all right?"Not clinical. Not strategic. Just straight."I will be," she said. Because it was truer than fine and he deserved the truth.He nodded. He didn't push. She appreciated that more than she could say.— ✦ —The nausea arrived on the fourth morning like an uninvited guest who had somehow obtained a key.