Chapter 3

3.

2-5-2-4-7.

That code.

It was the code for the smart locks on all of Caleb's properties, the passcode for his phone, even the combination for his office safe. For all these years, it had never changed.

I had once asked him if the numbers meant anything.

Caleb had just shrugged. "Nothing. It was randomly generated."

Until one day, I idly tapped it out on an old nine-key phone pad.

2(B) - 5(L) - 2(A) - 4(I) - 7(R).

BLAIR.

Without a word, I hung up the phone.

When Caleb came downstairs wrapped in a bathrobe, I handed him a blue folder.

"What's this?" he frowned.

"Separation agreement. Sign it."

Caleb stared at me coldly, not even reaching for it. He tried to walk past me toward the liquor cabinet.

I took a deep breath. All that time in the gym was about to pay off. I flipped the entire dining table over.

The crash of porcelain and wine glasses shattering on the marble floor was deafening in the dead-of-night silence of the apartment.

Caleb finally spun around, his eyes blazing with fury as he advanced on me.

"What the hell do you want?"

I let out a cold laugh.

"Wake the fuck up, Caleb. You either sign this agreement now, or we'll see each other in court."

Caleb’s jaw was clenched. He threw the towel on the floor.

"You're being irrational."

He turned to go back upstairs, but I stopped him with my voice.

"Blair called a little while ago."

"She said she couldn't reach you. She's stuck outside the Hamptons villa in the cold."

Caleb froze mid-step.

"You didn't give her the code?"

"Why would I?"

He spun around, about to rush upstairs to change.

But I was faster. I lunged forward and kicked him squarely in his unguarded back. As he stumbled to the ground, I brought my knee down hard on his spine, pinning him and wrenching his arms behind his back.

Caleb grunted in pain, then roared, "Harper! Are you fucking insane?"

I leaned down close to his ear, slapping the agreement against his face.

"Sign it."

"Or you're not walking out of this apartment tonight."

This time, Caleb was silent for a long, long time.

"You know what," he said, his voice seething with rage, "the one thing I can't fucking stand about you is that gutter trash attitude you can never shake. Always resorting to violence to solve your problems."