Chapter 3

Alaric came home carrying a bouquet of red roses.

“I know I missed our anniversary,” he said. “Let me make it up to you.”

I looked at the flowers.

For years, red roses had been his answer whenever he forgot something important. I used to arrange them in our best vase and tell myself the apology mattered more than the mistake.

This time, I did not reach for them.

“We need to talk.”

His smile faded.

“I accepted the writing contract in San Francisco,” I said. “I’m leaving—”

Alaric smiled slightly, as if he thought I was talking about a short trip.

“For how long?”

I looked at him.

For seven years, I had waited for him to notice what I was giving up.

Even now, he thought I was asking for permission.

His phone rang before I could finish.

Freya’s name appeared on the screen.

Alaric hesitated only a moment before answering.

“Freya?”

Her frightened voice carried through the quiet room.

“My ex-boyfriend is outside my apartment. He keeps knocking, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Did you call the police?”

“He hasn’t threatened me yet. I’m afraid calling them will make him angry.”

“Lock the door and stay inside.”

“Please come over,” she whispered. “You’re the only person I trust.”

Alaric reached for his coat.

“If she’s in danger, call the police,” I said. “They can reach her faster than you can.”

“She’s terrified.”

“And I’m trying to tell you that I’m leaving.”

“We’ll finish this conversation when I get back.”

“You didn’t even hear where I’m going.”

He pushed one arm into his coat.

“This is an emergency, Sienna.”

“So was our marriage.”

His expression tightened.

“Don’t turn this into another competition between you and Freya.”

“I didn’t.”

I looked at the phone in his hand.

“She did.”

Alaric picked up the roses.

“What are you doing?”

“She shouldn’t be alone after something like this. These might help calm her down.”

He was taking my anniversary flowers to another woman.

“Alaric.”

He stopped beside the door.

“If you leave now, there won’t be another conversation.”

“You’re upset. We’ll talk after you’ve had time to calm down.”

Then he walked out.

I watched his car disappear before opening the message Victoria had sent while we were arguing.

“The initial divorce petition is ready. Read every page before signing.”

I sat at the dining table and opened the document.

Seven years of marriage had become names, dates, property disclosures, and numbered paragraphs.

I read everything.

Then I signed.

Upstairs, I packed my passport, medication, laptop, work files, clothes, and my mother’s watch. I left behind the handbags, jewelry, and dresses Alaric had bought me.

On the bedroom dresser, I placed my house key and wedding ring on top of the divorce papers.

The pale mark around my finger looked unfamiliar.

I carried my suitcase downstairs and loaded it into the trunk.

I could have driven directly to the airport.

Instead, I opened an old scholarship record from my family’s foundation and found Freya’s address.

I entered it into the navigation system.

Before I left the city, there was one final thing I needed to see for myself.