Chapter 2

Pushing herself up from the freezing hardwood floor, Everlee limped into the master bathroom and turned on the shower. Scalding water beat down on her skin, washing away the dried mud and blood left from the warehouse.

She stepped out and looked in the fogged mirror at the dark purple bruises blooming across her collarbone. Remembering the disgust in Jamison's eyes when he shielded Ayla, her lips curled into a cold, mocking smile.

After drying off, she slipped into a plain silk nightgown, ignoring her swollen ankle, and walked straight into the walk-in closet.

She pulled open a hidden bottom drawer and took out a thick manila envelope stamped with the embossed seal of the Supreme Judicial Court. Her fingertips brushed across the bold black letters: PRENUPTIAL AGREEMENT.

Suddenly, the brass doorknob of the master bedroom rattled, followed by the heavy thud of the door being shoved open.

Everlee slid the envelope back into the dark drawer, shut it, and turned around as Jamison walked in carrying a glass of whiskey.

His tie hung loose, and the scent of scotch trailed behind him. Seeing her pale face, his tone softened with condescending charity.

"The party's over. Ayla is asleep."

Everlee stood by the closet door with her arms crossed, looking at him like an unwelcome intruder.

"And? Are you here to tell me to vacate the master suite for her, too, Mr. Ingram?"

Jamison frowned, clearly unaccustomed to her sharp tongue. Setting his whiskey glass on the vanity table, he pulled a dark green velvet box from his suit pocket.

He took two steps closer and snapped it open. Inside lay a vintage emerald locket gleaming under the warm wall sconces.

"Your fifth-anniversary gift."

His tone was smug, fully expecting her to forgive his neglect with tears of gratitude just like she had for the past five years.

He lifted the necklace and reached for her neck. Right before his fingers brushed her skin, Everlee jerked her chin away and took half a step back, her stomach churning.

Jamison's hands froze in midair. His face darkened instantly.

"Everlee, I'm already swallowing my pride to coax you. How much longer are you going to drag this out?"

She looked down at the green stone, her voice flat.

"That's the locket from the Sotheby's auction last week, isn't it? You bought it for Ayla, and only kept it because the chain was too heavy for her neck."

Jamison's pupils shrank. He pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up his nose, his voice rising in defensive anger.

"You're spying on me now? Ayla is just my sister! Are you seriously keeping score over a piece of jewelry?"

Looking at the man she had loved for half a decade, Everlee dug her nails back into the crescent marks on her palms. She didn't even have the energy to argue anymore.

"Take your trash and get out, Jamison. It makes me sick."

Stung by the raw revulsion in her eyes, Jamison slammed the velvet box onto the marble vanity with a sharp crack.

"You have lost your mind!"

He yanked at his loosened tie, towering over her with a sneer.

"Do you really think an orphan whose family went bankrupt ten years ago can survive a single day in Boston without the Ingram name protecting you?"

Everlee met his glare without blinking.

"Let's find out."

She paused for a beat, enunciating every syllable clearly.

"Jamison, I want a divorce."

Dead silence fell over the bedroom, broken only by the low hum of the central air conditioning.

Jamison stared at her for two seconds before letting out a harsh, mocking laugh. To her eyes, his sneer carried the unmistakable smugness of a man assuming this was merely a desperate housewife's clumsy attempt to beg for attention.

"A divorce? Over a birthday party, you're threatening me with divorce?"

He planted both hands on the vanity table, his eyes dripping with contempt.

"You'd better think twice before playing that card, Sweetheart. Walk out that door, and you won't even be able to afford a cup of coffee on Newbury Street."

Everlee didn't say another word. She just looked at him as if he were a clown performing a bad joke.

Infuriated by her silence, Jamison spun on his heel and marched toward the door.

"Since you want to play hard to get, stay in this room for the next few days and reflect on your attitude!"

He stepped into the hallway and slammed the door behind him, rattling the frames on the wall. On the vanity, the vintage emerald locket slipped out of its velvet box and lay cold against the marble.

Everlee walked over and picked up the heavy gold chain, her eyes glinting like cold steel. This secondhand trash would make great starting capital.