Chapter 1 · I Made the Cheater Leave with Nothing

"Take everything on the list. Don't leave a single thing behind."

I stood in the entryway, giving instructions to the six movers in matching uniforms behind me.

They were pros, each holding a copy of the inventory list I'd printed three days ago. They quickly spread out and started packing everything up, fast and organized.

Ian Rowe burst out of the bedroom, his hair a mess and his shirt buttoned up wrong.

"Claire! Are you out of your mind?" he yelled.

Behind him, a woman wearing my pajamas peeked out, her makeup only half removed and smeared across her face.

Nina Swan.

Ian's college sweetheart.

I didn't even spare her a glance. My eyes were fixed on the Patek Philippe on Ian's wrist, the one I'd given him for his birthday last year.

"Take off the watch," I said.

"What?" Ian blurted out.

I read from the list, "Item number forty-seven: Patek Philippe Nautilus 5711, purchased by Claire Sutton. That watch cost 230,000 dollars. I paid for it. Take it off, now."

Ian instinctively covered his wrist, his face flushing red.

"Annie, let me explain..." he started.

*****

"Don't call me Annie," I cut him off.

I pulled a clear plastic folder out of my bag. Inside was an official marriage certificate.

It belonged to Ian Rowe and Nina Swan.

The registration date was on the third day of my trip abroad to attend a large jewelry exhibition.

"Three days ago, after I returned from overseas, I found it in the second drawer of your study," I said, tossing the folder at his feet. "You didn't hide it deep enough."

Ian's face went ghostly pale.

Nina stepped out from behind the bedroom door, grabbing his arm. She kept her head down, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Ian..."

"Shut up!" Ian snapped, shaking her off and stepping toward me. "Annie, Claire, it's not what you think. Nina's family is in trouble. I only married her to help her out, that's all. It's you I love, only you."

"Ian," I cut him off, my voice flat and emotionless.

"Who you marry, who you live with, who you sleep with, I couldn't care less. I'm only here for one thing."

I paused.

"Money."

The movers were already taking apart the Poltrona Frau sofa in the living room, packing it up piece by piece. The custom-made Willowford coffee set on the coffee table was being carefully wrapped in bubble wrap.

Ian tried to rush over and stop them, but my two male assistants stepped in, blocking him on both sides.

"Let me go! This is my house!" Ian shouted.

"Is that so?" I shot back.

I pulled out a second document from my bag.

"This house? Total price: 4 million dollars. Down payment: 1.1 million—I put in eight hundred thousand dollars, you chipped in three hundred thousand dollars. Renovations? five hundred thousand dollars million, all from my account.

"The sofa in the living room? 80,000 dollars, mine. The custom bookshelf in the study? 50,000, mine. The Hästens mattress in the master bedroom? 110,000, on my credit card. The carpet under your feet? 25,000 dollars. All mine."

I read it all out, steady as ever.

"Honestly, in this house, except for the pajamas you and she are wearing, oh wait, those are mine too. I can't think of anything that actually belongs to you."

Ian was held in place, his face shifting from anger to embarrassment.

Nina stood by the bedroom door, biting her lip, her eyes red-rimmed, looking like a scared rabbit.

"Ms. Sutton," she finally spoke up, "I know you hate me, but Ian and I truly love each other. We were together back in college, but our families didn't approve, so we had to break up. All these years, he just couldn't get over me..."

"Stop right there," I said, raising my hand.

"I have zero interest in your love story. You can love him, he can love you, whatever. But you don't get to use my money, live in my house, or sleep in my bed while you're wrapped up in your grand romance."

I turned to the moving company supervisor to make sure everything was accounted for.

"The gem testing equipment in the study, seventeen pieces, not a single piece missing. And my private jewelry design sketches in the safe, three file boxes. Check the serial numbers," I said.

"Understood, Ms. Sutton," the supervisor replied.

The movers kept working, methodical and efficient. With every item they took out, the house felt emptier and emptier.

Ian finally stopped struggling.

He stood in the middle of the living room, watching as his so-called elite home, the one he always bragged about, was emptied out piece by piece. The fury in his eyes faded, replaced by a blank, almost fearful confusion.

"Do you have to be this ruthless?" he croaked.

"Ruthless?" I echoed back.

I bent down, changed into my Roger Vivier flats from the shoe cabinet, and gave him one last look.

"Ian, the real ruthless one here is you. The day you snuck off to the city hall with someone else, that was the final straw. We were done for good."

I pulled open the front door.

"My lawyer will handle the house. Until you pay me back every cent I'm owed, I'll be freezing the assets. So you'd better weigh your options carefully."

Behind me, I heard Nina's stifled sobs and the sound of Ian kicking something over.

I didn't look back.

The October wind in Capitaria was dry and biting, cutting right through my collar. But honestly, it was a hell of a lot fresher than the suffocating, sickly-sweet air of that house.

I booked an executive suite at a five-star hotel near City Center.

My jewelry studio was just under two miles away, tucked inside a renovated courtyard house. The location was prime, peaceful, and ideal for the precision work I do.

Chapter 1

"Take everything on the list. Don't leave a single thing behind."

I stood in the entryway, giving instructions to the six movers in matching uniforms behind me.

They were pros, each holding a copy of the inventory list I'd printed three days ago. They quickly spread out and started packing everything up, fast and organized.

Ian Rowe burst out of the bedroom, his hair a mess and his shirt buttoned up wrong.

"Claire! Are you out of your mind?" he yelled.

Behind him, a woman wearing my pajamas peeked out, her makeup only half removed and smeared across her face.

Nina Swan.

Ian's college sweetheart.

I didn't even spare her a glance. My eyes were fixed on the Patek Philippe on Ian's wrist, the one I'd given him for his birthday last year.

"Take off the watch," I said.

"What?" Ian blurted out.

I read from the list, "Item number forty-seven: Patek Philippe Nautilus 5711, purchased by Claire Sutton. That watch cost 230,000 dollars. I paid for it. Take it off, now."

Ian instinctively covered his wrist, his face flushing red.

"Annie, let me explain..." he started.

*****

"Don't call me Annie," I cut him off.

I pulled a clear plastic folder out of my bag. Inside was an official marriage certificate.

It belonged to Ian Rowe and Nina Swan.

The registration date was on the third day of my trip abroad to attend a large jewelry exhibition.

"Three days ago, after I returned from overseas, I found it in the second drawer of your study," I said, tossing the folder at his feet. "You didn't hide it deep enough."

Ian's face went ghostly pale.

Nina stepped out from behind the bedroom door, grabbing his arm. She kept her head down, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Ian..."

"Ian," I cut him off, my voice flat and emotionless.

"Who you marry, who you live with, who you sleep with, I couldn't care less. I'm only here for one thing."

I paused.

"Money."

Ian tried to rush over and stop them, but my two male assistants stepped in, blocking him on both sides.

"Let me go! This is my house!" Ian shouted.

"Is that so?" I shot back.

I pulled out a second document from my bag.

I read it all out, steady as ever.

"Honestly, in this house, except for the pajamas you and she are wearing, oh wait, those are mine too. I can't think of anything that actually belongs to you."

Ian was held in place, his face shifting from anger to embarrassment.

Nina stood by the bedroom door, biting her lip, her eyes red-rimmed, looking like a scared rabbit.

"Stop right there," I said, raising my hand.

I turned to the moving company supervisor to make sure everything was accounted for.

"The gem testing equipment in the study, seventeen pieces, not a single piece missing. And my private jewelry design sketches in the safe, three file boxes. Check the serial numbers," I said.

"Understood, Ms. Sutton," the supervisor replied.

The movers kept working, methodical and efficient. With every item they took out, the house felt emptier and emptier.

Ian finally stopped struggling.

"Do you have to be this ruthless?" he croaked.

"Ruthless?" I echoed back.

I bent down, changed into my Roger Vivier flats from the shoe cabinet, and gave him one last look.

"Ian, the real ruthless one here is you. The day you snuck off to the city hall with someone else, that was the final straw. We were done for good."

I pulled open the front door.

"My lawyer will handle the house. Until you pay me back every cent I'm owed, I'll be freezing the assets. So you'd better weigh your options carefully."

Behind me, I heard Nina's stifled sobs and the sound of Ian kicking something over.

I didn't look back.

The October wind in Capitaria was dry and biting, cutting right through my collar. But honestly, it was a hell of a lot fresher than the suffocating, sickly-sweet air of that house.

I booked an executive suite at a five-star hotel near City Center.

My jewelry studio was just under two miles away, tucked inside a renovated courtyard house. The location was prime, peaceful, and ideal for the precision work I do.