Chapter 3

It took me less than ten minutes to pack three years of my life.

I did not go to the bedroom Lucian and I shared.

I went to the small room at the end of the hall, where the suitcase I had brought to Montclair House still sat beneath the bed.

My clothes had been moved upstairs after our wedding, but the room had never been given to anyone else.

Perhaps everyone had known I would eventually need it again.

I packed two sweaters, three dresses, my laptop, and the drawing pencils Lucian had once complained were scattered over every table.

My unfinished picture-book manuscript went in last.

The diamond earrings he had given me remained in their velvet box.

So did the dresses his grandmother had selected because my own clothes were “too ordinary for the house.”

Everything that was truly mine fit inside one suitcase.

I entered our bedroom only for my passport and birth certificate.

Lucian’s nightstand was already prepared.

Eye drops. Pain medication. A glass of water. The silk mask he wore when light triggered his headaches.

Beside them lay the note I had written that afternoon.

Drops first, then the blue tablet. Wake me if the pain gets worse. I love you.

I tore off the last two sentences.

The medication schedule remained.

I was not taking his medicine from him.

I was taking myself out of the routine.

My suitcase wheels struck every stair on the way down.

Octavia Montclair was waiting in the entrance hall.

The music from the ballroom drifted through the walls. Somewhere beyond them, guests were still celebrating my husband’s engagement.

Octavia looked at my suitcase, then at me.

“This is unnecessary.”

“So was calling Lucian’s wife an employee.”

Her expression did not change.

“Lower your voice.”

I almost laughed.

Even now, my greatest offense was the possibility that someone might hear me.

She dismissed Mr. Alden with a glance, then placed a cream-colored folder on the console table.

“Lucian remains deeply attached to you,” she said. “No one is asking you to leave his life.”

“Only to disappear from it.”

“The public arrangement with Seraphine will stabilize matters. Once the Christmas season is over, we can discuss something more comfortable for you.”

She opened the folder.

The first page showed a number large enough to buy years of silence.

The second offered me an apartment in Boston.

The third required me to keep my marriage private and refrain from interfering with Lucian and Seraphine’s engagement.

“You’re offering me money to stay quiet about being his wife.”

“I’m offering you security.”

“No. You’re offering me a better room in the same cage.”

Octavia placed a gold pen beside the papers.

“The alternative is leaving this house with nothing.”

I looked at the signature line.

“Does Lucian know about this?”

A brief silence passed between us.

“He approved the arrangement this morning.”

This morning.

Lucian had stood behind me while I dressed for the gala. He had found the ring beneath my blouse and slid it onto my finger.

No more hiding after tonight, Wren.

He had already known.

While I believed he was preparing to claim me, he had been deciding how much my silence should cost.

I removed the Montclair credit card from my purse.

The house key followed.

I placed both on top of the agreement.

Octavia’s composure cracked for half a second.

“You are emotional. Leave tonight if you must, but don’t make decisions you’ll regret.”

“Lucian made his decision this morning.”

“You have no idea what waits outside these gates. The family will not protect you from reporters.”

“Your family is what I need protection from.”

My phone vibrated.

Lucian: Where are you?

Another message appeared before I could lock the screen.

Lucian: Go upstairs, Elowen.

Then a third.

Lucian: We are not finished talking.

He still thought the problem was that I had misunderstood him.

I opened our shared-location settings.

Stop sharing your location with Lucian Montclair?

I pressed Stop Sharing.

Then I texted Maren.

Is your guest room still empty?

She called immediately.

“Elowen? What happened?”

“Is it empty?”

“Yes. Do you need me to come get you?”

I looked through the open ballroom doors.

Lucian stood beneath the chandeliers with Seraphine at his side, smiling for another photograph.

“No,” I said. “I just need somewhere to sleep.”

I ordered a car myself.

Octavia did not follow me outside. She remained beside the unsigned agreement, certain cold weather and common sense would send me back.

The car arrived six minutes later.

I loaded my own suitcase and climbed into the back seat.

Lucian called before we reached the gates.

I watched my husband’s name fill the screen until it went dark.

Then I opened my browser and typed four words into the search bar.

How to file for divorce.