Chapter 2

Chapter 2

She knew these were her last two weeks in this home.

As Maya got out of the car, her next-door neighbor, Mrs. Miller, was walking her golden retriever. She saw Maya and waved enthusiastically. "Hi, Maya! Not with Lachlan and the others today?"

"I had to come back for something," Maya replied politely, a practiced smile on her face.

"Well, you should be careful," Mrs. Miller said, leaning in closer and lowering her voice. "I saw Lachlan at Whole Foods last week with a young blonde woman. They seemed very close..."

"I know. Thanks for your concern, Mrs. Miller," Maya cut her off, still smiling. "I have to go."

She walked quickly toward the house, hearing Mrs. Miller's disappointed sigh behind her. The wealthy wives of Seattle loved nothing more than to gossip about their neighbors' marital problems. It helped them forget, for a moment, that their own husbands were probably cheating too.

The house was empty, filled only with the low hum of the central air conditioning. Maya took off her coat and walked into the home she had managed for six years. One entire wall of the living room was a bookshelf, filled with Lachlan's business books and some of her own literature. The gray velvet sofa was from Crate & Barrel, and the rug beside it was a hand-woven Persian. Everything was so perfect, so tasteful, so... empty.

She had two weeks until she had to report to the enclosed training camp. There was a lot to do.

The first thing on her list was to divorce Lachlan.

Maya knew that once she joined "Operation Dark Raven," her current identity would be erased. Legally, Maya Thompson would cease to exist, so a divorce was technically unnecessary. But the thought of her name being on the same marriage certificate as Lachlan's made her sick. If she was leaving, she was leaving for good.

She picked up her phone and dialed a number. It rang three times before someone answered.

"Mrs. Croft, how can I help you?" On the other end was her lawyer, Richard Chen, a prominent Chinese-American attorney in Seattle who specialized in complex marital cases.

"Richard, I need you to draw up divorce papers," Maya said, her voice as calm as if she were discussing the weather.

"Divorce papers? Are you sure? I thought you and Mr. Croft..."

"I'm very sure. And I need you to find a way to get him to sign them without his knowledge."

There was a moment of silence. Richard was a smart man; he understood immediately. "That's... technically possible, but it carries legal risks."

"I know. I'll pay you an additional fee to compensate for the risk," Maya said. "And I don't want any of the assets. The house, the stocks, the bank accounts―he can have it all. All I want is a clean break."

"Understood. I'll handle it," Richard said, then paused. "Mrs. Croft, if you don't mind me asking, are you absolutely sure about this? Given your marital situation and Washington's community property laws, you could get at least half of the assets. That's millions of dollars..."

"The money doesn't matter to me," Maya interrupted. "What matters is getting out of this cage. Do you understand, Richard? This beautiful mansion... it's a prison."

Another pause. Finally, Richard said, "I understand. Give me three days, I'll have the agreement ready. Mr. Croft is also a client of our firm. He signs a lot of business documents every week. I'll find an opportunity to slip the divorce papers in with them."

"Thank you."

After hanging up, Maya took a deep breath. She went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of red wine―Lachlan's 2015 Caymus Cabernet Sauvignon, a bottle that cost over three hundred dollars. She took the glass to the floor-to-ceiling window and looked out at the view of Lake Washington. The water glittered, and in the distance, she could see the Bellevue skyline. She had looked at this view for six years. She once thought it was beautiful; now, it just felt jarring.

The next day, Maya called a luxury consignment service to come to the house. She had them pack up everything in her walk-in closet―the Hermès, the Chanel, the jewelry. She donated all the money from the sale to a Gold Star families foundation.

Back in the master bedroom, she looked at the wall covered with framed photos of the three of them―a chronicle of their six years together, each one meticulously framed. She used to treasure them, but now...

She took down every single photo and fed them into a paper shredder. Then she found her wedding photos with Lachlan and cut them all to pieces.

By the time she was done, it was evening. Her phone rang.

It was Lachlan.

Maya stared at the name flashing on the screen. She hesitated for a second, then answered. This is the last time, she told herself. The last time I'll care about his call.

"Maya, you get down to Swedish Medical Center right now and apologize to Blaire!" Lachlan's voice was furious, the background noise of a hospital emergency room buzzing behind him.

She was surprised, but her voice remained calm. "Why?"

"Because you refused to climb with Leo, Blaire tried to help and fell from the 30-foot wall!" Lachlan's voice rose. "She's in the ER now. The doctor says she injured her metatarsal bone. A little worse and it would have been a full fracture! This is all your fault!"

Maya's lips curved into a sarcastic smile. Blaire's fall probably wasn't that serious, or Lachlan wouldn't be so calm. For a young woman, an injury like that meant a cast and a few weeks of rest. But it was enough to make Lachlan frantic with worry, and to give him an excuse to blame her.

The next second, she heard Leo's heartbroken and angry shriek over the phone. "Mom! It's all your fault! You hurt Blaire! I hate you! I don't want you anymore! I hate you!"

For a moment, Maya felt a vise grip her heart. She remembered when Leo was born, when the nurse placed him in her arms, how that tiny baby had looked at her...

But now, the child she had protected with her life was screaming "I hate you" at her over the phone.

Maya took a deep breath and spoke with a calmness she had never felt before. "Fine. If you don't want me as your mother, then I don't want you as my son. Don't call me again."

She hung up.

As the screen went dark, she saw her own blurred reflection. The face looked like a stranger's, with empty eyes and a bitter smile. Is this what I've become? she thought. A woman worn down by life, her heart shattered by betrayal.

No. She wouldn't let this be her. She was Maya Thompson, a former special forces elite, the legendary soldier codenamed "Ghost." She couldn't be trapped by this domestic drama.

On the other end of the line, Leo was stunned. He tugged on Lachlan's sleeve, his eyes welling with tears. "Daddy, Mom... she hung up..."

The seven-year-old couldn't understand the complexities of the adult world. He just saw that Blaire was hurt and felt terrible, so he wanted his mom to apologize. He never expected his mother to say those words, to say she "didn't want him as her son." In that moment, a terrifying feeling of being abandoned washed over him.

Lachlan's expression soured, his brow furrowed. He hadn't expected Maya to be so decisive. In the past, no matter what awful things he said or did, Maya would at best fall silent or fight back tears. She would never just hang up on him.

A flicker of panic went through him, but his pride wouldn't let him admit it. He patted Leo's head and tried to sound casual. "Don't worry, son. Your mom's just angry. She'll be back once she cools down. You know how women are."

He then turned to Blaire, who was lying on the hospital bed, his tone immediately softening. "Don't pay any attention to her. Blaire, what did the doctor say? Is it serious? Will you need surgery?"

Blaire lay on the bed, pale and pitiful. Her foot was wrapped in an ice pack, her expression a mix of pain and forced bravery. "It's okay, Lachlan. The doctor said it's just a minor fracture. A cast and a few weeks of rest will be enough. Please don't blame Maya, she didn't mean for this to happen..."

"You're still defending her!" Lachlan said angrily. "If it wasn't for her, you wouldn't have gotten hurt. Don't worry, I'll take good care of you while you recover."

"Thank you, Lachlan..." Blaire's eyes filled with tears, making her look both fragile and deeply moved.

Leo stood by, watching his father comfort Blaire. He had a vague feeling that something was wrong, but at seven years old, he didn't know how to put the conflicting emotions into words. So he just stood there, his small figure looking exceptionally lonely.

The next morning, Maya's phone rang. It was an unknown number.

"Ms. Thompson, this is Colonel Anderson. We've arranged a tactical training facility for you near Mount Rainier. Can you be there by 10 a.m.?"