---- Chapter 8 Emily POV: For a split second, Killian' s eyes were fixed on me, on the floor, a flicker of instinctual concern crossing his features. He took a half-step towards me, his hand outstretched. But then Dallas let out another heart-wrenching sob, and his attention snapped to her like a magnet. The moment of concern vanished, replaced by a deep, weary frustration. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his shoulders slumping. "Emily, for God's sake," he sighed, his voice heavy with exasperation. "Can you not cause trouble for one day? | haven't had a decent night's sleep in a week." "That's because you've been sleeping in her bed," | shot back, my voice dripping with venom. He fell silent. He walked over and knelt beside me, but not to help me up. He picked up a napkin from the untouched fruit basket and began to dab at the blood on my hand, his movements rough and impatient. "You need to learn to be smart," he murmured, his voice so low that only | could hear. Dallas was still busy with her performance, crying into her hands. "Just pretend you don't know. Let me have my fun. | love you, Emily. But loving you ---- doesn't mean | can't desire other women." A wave of nausea so profound it almost made me gag washed over me. He wasn't just cheating; he was asking for my complicity. "When I'm tired of her," he continued, his eyes meeting mine, cold and pragmatic, "I'll get rid of her. And I'll even let you watch. I'll destroy her for you, just like | promised. Just be patient." He leaned in, his lips brushing against the corner of my mouth. The touch that once electrified me now felt like the slimy trail of a slug. | recoiled as if I' d been burned. "| wish | had never met you," | whispered, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. He stood up, his face unreadable, and went to comfort Dallas. As he led her out of the room, murmuring soothing words to her, my phone rang. It was an unknown number. "Hello, Mrs. Emerson?" a polite, professional voice said. "This is Mark from the County Clerk's office. We've received your divorce petition, but I'm afraid there's a problem." "A problem?" "Yes," the man said, a hint of awkwardness in his tone. "According to our records, you and Mr. Killian Emerson are not legally married. The marriage certificate you submitted... well, to be frank, it's a very convincing forgery. There is no record of ---- your marriage on file." The phone slipped from my numb fingers, clattering onto the linoleum floor. Not married. The wedding on the cliffs of Ireland, the vows we ' d exchanged, the document we'd signed... it was all a lie. My entire life with him was a legal fiction. The divorce papers I'd signed were worthless, because there was nothing to dissolve. | stared blankly at the wall, the clerk' s words echoing in my head. A very convincing forgery... no record on file... He hadn't just betrayed me. He had invalidated our entire history. He had built my life on a foundation of lies, ensuring that | was never truly his wife, never entitled to anything, always completely and utterly under his control. A violent, retching cough shook my body. | doubled over, dry- heaving, but nothing came up. There was nothing left inside me but a hollow, aching void. Tears streamed down my face, hot and silent. That single, devastating piece of information did what months of cruelty and neglect could not. It cauterized the wound. It burned away the last vestiges of love and replaced them with something cold, hard, and unbreakable. Clarity. | got to my feet, my movements stiff and robotic. | walked to the nurses' station. ---- "| need the security footage from my room for the last hour," | said, my voice devoid of all emotion. The nurse looked at me, startled, but something in my eyes must have scared her, because she complied without question. For too long, | had relied on Killian to be my shield, my champion. | had believed he would slay my dragons for me. | had been a fool. Some dragons, you have to slay yourself. | went back to the sterile, glass fortress that had been my prison. | packed a single carry-on bag with only the essentials: my passport, some cash | had squirreled away, and the few pieces of my mother's jewelry he hadn't replaced with gaudier diamonds. | sat at his desk, his ridiculously expensive laptop humming under my fingers. | downloaded the security footage from the hospital. | found the emails, the receipts, the flight manifests that documented his affair. | compiled it all into a single, damning file. | composed a new email, addressed to Killian's private account. | attached the file. Then, | set a timer. Send in 24 hours: By then, | would be long gone. | walked out of that house and didn't look back. | was no longer Emily Emerson, the billionaire' s tragic, cheated-on wife. ---- | was Emily Ramos again. And | was going to war.