Chapter 1

Our marriage was a long, slow-burning war. If I scratched his face, he'd break my leg. That' s how Liam Miller and I had spent the last five years. We were locked in a cycle of mutual revenge, each trying to hurt the other more.

He was a master of psychological warfare. His weapon of choice was other women. He never slept with them, not in the beginning, but he brought them home. He' d have them sit in my chair at the dining table, use my favorite mug for coffee, and leave a trace of their perfume on his collar. He did it all just to see the pain on my face, to force me to be the one to finally give up and walk away from the mess I had created.

I was the one who started it, after all. Five years ago, his college sweetheart, Sarah Jenkins, was about to come back for him. She had written him a long, heartfelt letter, pouring out her soul, ready to leave her new husband. I found that letter. I hid it. I watched as Liam' s hope turned to despair, and when Sarah never showed up, he got drunk. Blind drunk. I took my chance. I got him to the courthouse, and when he sobered up, he had a ring on his finger and a wife he despised. He thought Sarah had abandoned him for good, and he blamed me for trapping him in his grief. So, he decided to make my life a living hell.

And now, it seemed his motivation had returned. Sarah Jenkins was back in town, divorced and broke. Liam had been spending all his time with her, helping her, comforting her. I knew what was coming.

He sat across from me at the dinner table, the air thick with five years of unspoken hatred. He pushed a file across the table. The words on the cover were stark and clear: DIVORCE AGREEMENT.

"Let's get a divorce," he said, his voice flat, devoid of any emotion.

I looked at the papers, then back at his cold, handsome face. He expected me to beg, to cry, to fight. I had fought for him for so long, enduring his public humiliations and private cruelties. He thought I was still that desperate girl who loved him more than her own dignity.

"Okay," I said.

The sound was so small in the cavernous dining room, but it hit him like a physical blow. He froze, his hand halfway to lighting a cigarette. He looked up at me, his dark eyes narrowing with suspicion. He couldn' t believe it. After everything I had done to trap him, to keep him, I was letting go this easily.

"What did you say?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"I said okay," I repeated, a little louder this time. I picked up the agreement and started flipping through it. "Let's get a divorce."

He stared at me, searching my face for some sign of a trick, some hidden agenda. He didn' t find one. All he saw was calm acceptance. It unnerved him. He finally lit his cigarette, the smoke curling around his head, obscuring his expression. But I knew him. He was furious that I wasn't fighting back. He was losing control of the narrative he had built for us.

My heart was hammering against my ribs. I loved this man. I loved him so much it felt like a sickness, a poison that had been slowly killing me for years. But he would never know that. He would only ever see the cold, calculating woman who had manipulated him into a loveless marriage.

I skimmed the document. He was offering me a generous settlement, a few properties, some cash. But it wasn't enough. Not for five years of my life.

"This isn't enough," I said, my voice as cool as his. "You're offering me 20% of your company's shares. I want 50%."

Liam let out a short, harsh laugh. "You're dreaming, Chloe."

"Am I?" I met his gaze without flinching. "Your company, 'Miller Tech,' was built with my family' s seed money. It was my marketing expertise that put you on the map. Without me, you' d still be working out of your garage. I' m not just your wife, Liam. I was your business partner. I want what I' m owed."

He studied me for a long moment, the cigarette smoke a gray curtain between us. I thought he would argue, that he would fight me on this. It would be another battle in our endless war.

But then, to my complete shock, he nodded. "Fine," he said, his voice crisp and decisive. "50%. My lawyer will draft a new agreement tomorrow."

He agreed so quickly, so easily. It was as if he couldn't wait to be rid of me, as if half his billion-dollar company was a small price to pay to finally bring Sarah back into his life. The thought hurt, a familiar ache in my chest. I felt a bitter laugh rise in my throat, but I swallowed it down.

I stood up, my chair scraping against the floor. "Good. I'll expect the papers on my desk."

I turned to leave, to walk out of that room and out of his life.

"Chloe," his voice stopped me at the door. It sounded different. Muffled, with a strange note I couldn't place.

I glanced back over my shoulder. "What?"

"Why?" he asked, his voice pulling tight at the end. "Why did you agree so easily? You fought so hard to marry me. Why give up now?"

I gave him a smile, a bright, brittle thing that didn't reach my eyes. I gave him the answer he expected, the one that would fit his story of the heartless gold-digger he married.

"I'm bored, Liam," I said, my voice light and dismissive. "I'm tired of playing this game. And honestly? I just don't like you anymore."

With that, I walked out, leaving him alone with the ghost of his past and the ashes of our future, my own dashing figure a shield against the truth.