---- Chapter 12 12 Liam clutched the signed divorce papers. The crisp paper felt like shards of glass in his hand. "Maya, please," he whispered to the empty room. "Please come back. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." He sank into her favorite armchair, inhaling the faint, lingering scent of her perfume. Grief, raw and overwhelming, consumed him. He had destroyed everything. Their life, her trust, his own soul. "| won't sign them," he declared to the silent penthouse. "| will never sign them." He carefully placed the divorce papers in his private safe, alongside her printed vow. A defiant, desperate act. As if refusing to acknowledge their end could somehow undo it. He searched the apartment again, a man possessed. Looking for any clue, any forgotten item, any trace of her he might have missed. Her side of the bathroom was bare. Her favorite books, gone. Her art supplies, vanished. She had been meticulous. Thorough. It was as if Maya Goldstein was slowly being erased from existence. ---- His phone buzzed. A notification from an art world gossip site. "SOLD! It seems Mrs. Goldstein stipulated it be sold, not held by you." "Who bought it this time?" Liam demanded. "An anonymous international collector. The bidding was fierce. It went for almost double what you paid." Liam felt a profound emptiness. The necklace, his grand symbol of devotion, was gone. Irretrievable. Like Maya. His love, his grand gestures, all worthless now. He imagined her out there, starting a new life. ---- Meeting someone new. Someone who would cherish her, be faithful to her. The thought was a physical torment. "She's mine," he growled, jealousy and regret a toxic brew in his gut. He remembered their wedding day, his promises. He had meant them then. Or had he? He blamed Ava. Her ambition, her manipulation. If it weren't for Ava, he wouldn't be in this mess. He paced the penthouse, a caged animal. He sat in the dark, the city lights mocking him. He clutched the silk scarf, her scent now almost gone. Then, on the floor, under the bed, he found something Asmall, silver locket. Inexpensive. Something she'd had since childhood. He opened it. Tiny, faded pictures of her parents, younger, happier. A piece of her past she had, perhaps accidentally, left behind. Or perhaps, intentionally. A final, tiny breadcrumb of her old life. He clung to it, a drowning man clutching at driftwood. His phone, Maya's old number which he kept charged, suddenly lit up. A message. From an unknown sender. Explicit, taunting. "Heard your wifey flew the coop, Goldstein. Guess she ---- couldn't handle a real woman taking her man. Don't worry, I'll keep you warm." Followed by a lewd photo. It was Ava. Using a new burner. Still trying to provoke. The rage that filled Liam was cold, absolute, and terrifying.