---- Chapter 5 Ariel Payne POV: | woke up in a hospital bed. The first thing | saw was Desmond s face, etched with worry, hovering over me. "Ariel? Thank God," he breathed, his hand finding mine. "I was so worried. What happened? The mall security found you unconscious. They said you were assaulted. Who did this to you? Tell me, and I' Il make them pay." His concern felt like a performance, a well-rehearsed act for an audience of one. He didn' t know. He truly had no idea that it was his own people who had put me here. The irony was so bitter it tasted like poison. His phone rang. It was Aurora. He glanced at the screen, then back at me, his face a battleground of conflicting obligations. "l have to take this," he said, already moving towards the door. "It's about the pre-IPO audit. |' Il be right back, | promise." He didn' t come back. | checked myself out of the hospital the next morning. The bruises on my body were a painful, purple map of his indifference. Strangely, | didn' t feel anger. | didn' t feel sadness. | felt... ---- light. The final, fragile thread of hope that had tethered me to him had been violently severed. | was free. | went back to the house and began to pack. Not my clothes, but his. | methodically went through every room, collecting every trace of him, every object that held a memory. The worn -out sweatshirt he loved to wear on lazy Sundays. The collection of business books he' d read until the spines cracked. The framed photo from our courthouse wedding that he' d long ago relegated to a dusty corner of the study. Each item was a ghost. A remnant of a love that was now dead. He considered these years a shameful nightmare. Fine. | would help him erase it. | packed everything into large black trash bags. Ten years of a shared life condensed into twenty-three bags of garbage. | dragged them out to the curb, one by one, my bruised ribs screaming in protest. When | was done, the house felt cavernous and empty, but it was a Clean, cathartic emptiness. It was a blank canvas. My phone rang. It was Aunt Evelena. "Ariel, darling. |' ve just landed. |' m at the private terminal. Can you come and get me?" "I'm on my way," | said, a real smile touching my lips for the first time in what felt like an eternity. As | was about to walk out the door, it swung open. Desmond ---- stood there, looking exhausted but triumphant. "The final audit is done," he announced, a wide grin spreading across his face. "We' re officially cleared for the IPO. Everything is perfect." He stopped, his eyes finally registering the suitcase in my hand. He frowned. "Where are you going?" "To pick up my aunt from the airport," | said, my voice cool and even. He looked relieved. "Oh. Right. The one in New York." He barely knew anything about my family, had never shown any interest. He looked around the living room, a strange expression on his face. "Something's different. Did you redecorate?" "Just did some spring cleaning," | said, walking past him. He didn' t try to stop me. His eyes were scanning the room, a look of vague confusion and then... relief. "It feels... cleaner. More spacious. | like it." He liked that my presence had been scrubbed from his home. He just didn't realize it yet. As | drove to the airport, a text message from an unknown number appeared on my screen. Unknown: Is this Ariel Payne? | think we need to talk. My name is Aurora Quinn. Meet me at the Bluebird Cafe in one hour. ---- My blood ran cold. This was a confrontation | hadn' t expected. But | was done running. | was done hiding. | found her at a corner table, looking as poised and immaculate as ever. She didn' t waste time with pleasantries. "l' ve had you investigated," she said, her voice a silken threat. "l know everything. The secret marriage, the years you spent supporting him. A very touching, if pathetic, story." She slid a check across the table. It was for five million dollars. "This is for you," she said, her lips curving into a smug smile. "Consider it a thank you for your service. Now, take the money and disappear. For good. Desmond is mine." | looked at the check, then back at her face. | started to laugh. It was a low, bitter sound. "You think you can buy my life? You think my love, my history, has a price tag?" Her smile faltered. "Every woman has a price." "Not me," | said, my voice ringing with a newfound strength. "You can have him. A man who can be bought isn' t worth keeping anyway." Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. Her mask of cool sophistication shattered, revealing the vicious, insecure woman beneath. "You bitch," she hissed. And then she did something | never could have predicted. She picked up a steak knife from the table, and with a small, sharp ---- cry, dragged the blade across the back of her own hand. Blood welled up, a shocking red against her pale skin. "Desmond!" she screamed, her face contorting into a mask of pain and terror. "Help me! She' s crazy! She attacked me!" | stared, frozen in shock, as Desmond burst through the cafe doors. He must have followed me. Or she had told him where to be. This was a setup. A perfectly orchestrated trap. He saw Aurora' s bleeding hand, her tear-streaked face. His gaze then flew to me, his eyes filled with a furious, murderous rage. "Ariel! What the hell did you do?" he roared, rushing to Aurora 's side, cradling her hand as if it were a wounded bird. Aurora sobbed into his chest. "I just wanted to talk to her, Des. | wanted to make things right. But she... she just snapped." He held her, glaring at me over her shoulder with pure, unadulterated hatred. "You' ve gone too far this time, Ariel. You' re insane." Aurora pulled away, her face a picture of heartbroken nobility. "Don't, Des. It's my fault. | shouldn' t have come. |' Il just go." She ran out of the cafe, and he immediately ran after her, calling her name, his voice thick with panic and devotion. He didn' t even look back at me. Not once. | sat there, surrounded by the stares of the other patrons, my ---- heart a block of ice in my chest. It was a trap. And like a fool, | had walked right into it.