Chapter 5

I placed the Northern Lights photo right on top. "You said you were busy with work and canceled our seventh anniversary trip, when in truth you took them to see the Northern Lights instead."

He opened his mouth, but I didn't let him get a word in.

"I was alone on that plane, scrolling through my phone, and I saw a photo of your son watching the Northern Lights. In that moment, I didn't even have the strength to confront you anymore."

William reached out to pull me toward him. I stepped back, and his hand hung suspended in mid‑air. "Emily," he said.

"Don't call me that," I interrupted him.

Sophia spread out the documents and said, "Mr. Shore, Emily's demands are straightforward. She wants a negotiated divorce, the equitable division of marital joint assets, and the recovery of assets gifted to the third party during the marriage.

"Expenses related to your undisclosed out‑of‑wedlock child will be laid out in our court filings."

William stared at the papers, all the warmth gone from his face. "You got everything ready fast," he said.

Sophia shot back, "Not as fast as you managed to hide your kid."

He turned to me, his gaze turning cold. "Emily, are you sure you want to make this ugly?"

I picked up the sticky note. [I'll make you beef bourguignon when I get back.] I crumpled it up and tossed it into the trash. "You're the one who made this ugly," I said.

William's breathing grew heavier. "What do you want? The house, the money, the shares? I can give you all of it. But stop waving 'divorce' in my face like you're trying to scare me."

"You think I'm just throwing a tantrum?" I asked.

"You've never been the type to go all the way." He said it with such certainty, as if every concession I'd made over those seven years gave him a promise that I'd always let him off easy.

I passed up the chance to study abroad so he could start his business.

I paused all my studio projects for three months when his dad got sick.

And I buried my wish to be a mom because he said he didn't want kids messing up our lives too soon.

He knew I'd always endure anything for him, but he never realized that patience had its limits.

I pulled out my phone, opened my flight records, and showed them to him. "I'm already back. I'm done chasing auroras."

Then I opened the lawyer's retainer agreement and said, "I've already hired a lawyer."

Finally, I removed my house keys and placed them on the table. "I'm staying at a hotel tonight. Starting tomorrow, we only talk through our lawyers."

William seized my wrist, sudden and rough. His grip was so tight, my wrist went numb.

Sophia shot to her feet. "Let go of her."

I stared him down. "William, if you don't let go, I'm calling the cops."

His eyes stormed with emotion, and he slowly released his grip.

I dragged my suitcase toward the door.

He called after me, his voice hoarse. "Emily, you'll regret this."

I put on my shoes and turned back to look at him. "What I regret is not leaving sooner," I said.

As the door clicked shut, the hallway's motion-sensor light flicked on. The cold white light hit my suitcase and the angry red mark on my wrist.

Sophia stood beside me and asked, "Can you hold up?"

I took a breath. My chest felt heavy and suffocated, like someone had stuffed it full of wet cotton. "I have to, whether I can or not," I said.

The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped inside.

My phone buzzed. Grace had posted another update: a photo capturing three silhouettes, with the caption: [He says he'll give us a home soon.]

I stared at those words and saved it. Fine, let him. Let him do it with everyone watching.

On my first night at the hotel, William called me twenty-seven times.

I didn't pick up a single one.

At one in the morning, he sent me a voice message. "Emily, I'm downstairs. Come down. Let's talk this through."

I pulled back the curtains and looked down. His car was parked out front of the hotel.

The rain had stopped, and the wet pavement shimmered under the streetlights. He was leaning against his car, smoking, the cigarette's ember flickering red in the night.

I closed the curtains and handed my phone to Sophia.

She was on the couch, sorting through paperwork, never even looking up. "Don't go soft," she said.

"I won't," I replied.

Sophia glanced up at me. "I'm just worried you'll get fooled by his looks and end up back with him."

I sat on the edge of the bed, shoes still on, and my feet felt like ice. "No matter how charming he is, he can't make that four‑and‑a‑half‑year‑old child disappear," I said.

Sophia closed the folder. "I'll file for asset protection tomorrow, but you better brace yourself. He's not just going to sit back and let it happen."

I nodded.

Of course, William wouldn't just roll over and accept it. Having built his business for years, he excelled at holding every circumstance in his grip.

The next morning, he struck back.

The studio's finance manager called me, her voice trembling. "Emily, Mr. Shore suddenly wants his investment settled early. He also says we need to go over all the supply chain costs he fronted before."

I was standing at the hotel sink, toothbrush frozen in my hand. In the mirror, I looked pale, with dark circles under my eyes. "He contacted you?" I asked.

"Yeah. The email came from his assistant. It was quite stern, warning that they would pursue legal action unless we complied within three days."

I rinsed the toothpaste foam from my mouth. "Forward me the email," I said.