---- Chapter 6 Harley Pennington POV: | took a slow sip of my scotch, letting the burn travel down my throat. | looked at Katerina, at her smug face and the marks on her neck, and | felt nothing but a cold, clinical curiosity. "Is that what you think you want?" | asked, my voice calm. "To be Mrs. Tate?" "It's what | deserve," she snapped, her confidence wavering slightly at my lack of reaction. "I love him. It's not about the money." "Good," | said with a thin smile. "Because there won' t be any. Do you really think you' Il be the last pretty face he finds? You were the original, | was the copy. Who do you think will be the next one? When he gets tired of you, and he will, you' Il be out on the street again, with nothing." Her eyes narrowed. She saw Connor coming up the stairs behind me before | did. Her expression shifted in an instant. Her face crumpled, her eyes filled with terror. With a choked sob, she threw herself sideways, crashing into the bar cart next to her. Glasses shattered, liquor pooling on the expensive rug ---- her out of the room. As she left, Katerina glanced back at me over her shoulder, a triumphant smirk flashing across her face before she replaced it with a mask of pain. Later that night, Connor came to me. He was drunk. "She' s settling in the guest room," he slurred, leaning against the doorframe. "We can make this work, Harley. | know we can." + "There is no 'we'," | said. He stumbled into the room, his eyes pleading. "I' m sorry. Okay? I' m sorry. For everything. Let' s just... let' s have a drink. Like we used to." | thought of the files on my nightstand. The divorce certificate. The proof of Katerina' s lies. The asset transfer documents. He had no idea the game was already over. "Fine," | said. "One drink." We sat in silence, the way we used to after a long day, the city lights twinkling below us. He got drunker and drunker, rambling about his plans for the future. A future that somehow, delusionally, still included me, Katerina, and the baby, all living in some twisted version of a happy family. As he droned on, my phone buzzed. | glanced at the screen. Killian. | answered. ---- "Everything alright?" Killian' s voice was a deep, calming rumble. "Perfect," | said, a genuine smile touching my lips for the first time in weeks. "Good," he said. "Because the wedding planners are getting impatient. And so am |. I' m flying in tomorrow. We' re getting married, Harley. This weekend." "You' re rushing me, Mr. Copeland," | teased. "I' ve waited fifteen years. I' m done waiting," he said, his voice firm but full of affection. "I' Il see you tomorrow, future Mrs. Copeland. Don' t even think about running." | hung up, my heart feeling lighter than it had in years. "Who was that?" Connor mumbled from his chair, his head lolling to the side. | looked at him, at the pathetic, drunken man he had become. The last shred of pity | had for him evaporated. "That was my fiancé," | said clearly. "I'm getting married this weekend." His eyes fluttered open, struggling to focus. "What? No... you ' re my wife. You love me." He tried to stand, stumbling towards me. "Harley, please... don' t leave me. I'm sorry. |' Il get rid of her. ' Il do anything." ---- | just looked at him, my expression unreadable. His pleas for forgiveness, his promises-they were nothing but the desperate ramblings of a drunk. Even if he meant them in this moment, he wouldn't in the morning. He didn't love me. He just couldn't stand the thought of losing his most valuable possession.