Chapter 1

The man who once loved me most, Michael Stanton, broke four of my ribs with his car—all for his junior, Emily Hughes.

He looked at me like I was trash.

"Charlotte, you're the best lawyer in Bayview City. Defend Emily, and she walks free. Refuse..."

He let the engine rev, tires inching toward my skull. "And I'll make sure you end up like the man she ran over."

I lay silent in my own blood while strangers called for an ambulance.

As sirens wailed and consciousness faded, I called John Carter.

"Professor Carter... there's a big case in Bayview City.

"And about the divorce... I accept it."

*****

"You've finally come to your senses," John's familiar voice came through the phone. My eyes grew hot with emotion.

Just as I was about to speak, Michael pushed the door open, and I quickly hung up.

He was dressed in a brand-new suit, and a barely-there hint of perfume clung to his collar.

I recognized it instantly. It was Emily's signature scent.

It was custom-made, exclusive to her in Bayview City.

"Is your mentor coming to Bayview City?" Michael asked. He was staring at his phone, the screen still showing Emily's pink Instagram feed.

"Yes," I replied.

Michael didn't even lift his head to look at me. "Then have your mentor defend Emily."

He spoke with such arrogant certainty, and for once, I didn't make a fuss or even try to argue back.

I just sat there in silence, quietly replying to messages from my mentor and the senior apprentices.

Seeing how unbothered I was, he moved closer. "What are you doing?"

Just then, his phone rang loudly.

I recognized the sound right away. It was the custom alert he set for someone special.

Michael glanced at his phone, a sly smile curling on his lips, and without a word, he got up and walked out.

He totally forgot whatever he was about to do just moments ago.

Before heading out, he tossed me a cardboard box. When I opened it, all I found was a squashed mango cake.

I recalled his words from earlier.

"The doctor said you're fine. You'll be out in a couple of days," he said.

His tone was pure command.

I had four broken ribs and internal bleeding. The doctor said if I'd been brought in any later, I might not have made it.

But all I could say was, "Okay."

I didn't make a fuss or argue.

The mango cake was already spoiled. Michael never even remembered I was allergic to mangoes.

I shoved a piece into my mouth. The cream was bitter.

Without another thought, I dumped the cake in the trash and booted up my laptop.

The screen was still stuck on the case analysis Michael had practically shoved in my face—Emily's drunk driving incident.

I closed that tab, opened a fresh document, and typed out two weighty words.

Divorce Agreement.

Just then, my alternate account blew up with several posts from Emily.

I casually tapped on one.

It was a photo of her holding a cake, with cream smeared across Michael's suit.

Emily had captioned it: [Since you apologized so sincerely, I'll let you off for almost buying a mango cake instead of a strawberry cake.]

I zoomed in for a closer look. Sure enough, it was a strawberry cake.

It was delicate and beautiful. It was so much better than that sad mango cake from earlier.

I added the date to the divorce agreement, saved it without a second thought, and sent it to my grad school mentor group chat.

Messages poured in, everyone cheering that I'd finally made the decision.

I pinned the mentor group chat to the top and unpinned Michael's chat.

Just then, John sent me another message, [Come back. The partner position is still reserved for you.]

[Okay,] I replied, this time without a second thought.

The next day, Michael showed up at the hospital again. He brought a stack of court documents and, ignoring the doctor's protests, set them down right in front of me.

Along with the papers, he had two cake boxes, one of which he was holding close to his chest. I glanced at the box, and as our eyes met, Michael quickly hid it behind his back.

"Didn't you say you loved mango?" Michael asked.

So that strawberry cake was for Emily.

I couldn't help but laugh. "You seriously don't remember I'm allergic to mango?"

Michael paused, as if I'd just told him the most ridiculous thing ever, his voice dripping with disbelief. "Nonsense. Didn't you eat the mango cake yesterday?"

He gave me a look of pure disdain, not bothering to hide his contempt. "Why are you always so immature? Even competing with her over cake flavors."