The morning light was a cold, sharp reminder of the bruises hidden beneath Kaia's tailored suit. She woke up on the floor. Her body was freezing, and every bone felt like it had been shattered and glued back together.

She grabbed the edge of the bed and pulled herself up. She walked to the bathroom. She applied a thick layer of foundation, painting over the deathly gray color of her skin.

She picked up her phone and dialed her best friend, Alaia Stafford. "I need you to investigate something for me right now."

She hung up the phone. She put on a tailored black suit. She slid dark sunglasses over her eyes to hide the broken blood vessels.

She walked past the living room. She didn't even glance at the manila envelope still sitting on the coffee table. She walked out the door and got into the car.

The Maybach drove down Madison Avenue. Kaia walked into a high-end luxury boutique to pick up a custom dress.

The store manager rushed over, bowing slightly, and led her to the velvet sofas in the VIP lounge.

Kaia sat down and picked up a magazine. Suddenly, a loud commotion erupted outside the glass doors.

She looked through the floor-to-ceiling window. Seraphina was running frantically down the sidewalk, constantly looking over her shoulder.

A man wearing a black baseball cap was jogging right behind her, acting suspiciously.

Seraphina suddenly changed direction. She sprinted straight toward the boutique.

She pushed the glass doors open and screamed, "Someone is following me!" She threw herself onto the carpet, landing directly at Kaia's feet.

The store clerks froze in shock. One of them scrambled to call security.

Kaia sat perfectly still. She looked down at Seraphina, who was violently shivering on the floor. Kaia's gut told her this was another cheap, staged performance.

Tires screeched outside. A black Range Rover slammed to a halt against the curb.

Gerrit threw the car door open and charged into the boutique like a hurricane.

His eyes immediately locked onto Seraphina on the floor, and then onto Kaia sitting calmly on the sofa.

Gerrit dropped to his knees. He pulled Seraphina tightly into his chest, whispering soft words to calm her down.

Seraphina buried her face in his neck and sobbed loudly. She pointed a shaking finger toward the street. "That man... he was going to attack me. I know someone paid him to do it."

Gerrit's body went completely rigid. He slowly lifted his head. His eyes locked onto Kaia, filled with a murderous, terrifying rage.

He stood up. He marched over to Kaia. A flicker of uncertainty crossed Gerrit's face. He looked from Seraphina's tear-stained face to Kaia's perfectly calm demeanor. "Kaia, what the hell is going on here?" he demanded, his voice tight but lacking its usual blind certainty. Seeing his hesitation, Seraphina let out a dramatic, breathless gasp and let her eyes roll back, faking a dead faint. Panic overrode Gerrit's logic. He reached down and grabbed the lapels of her black suit jacket, hauling her up to face his fury.

"Is there no limit to how low you'll sink, Kaia?!" he roared. "You hired a stalker to terrorize her?!"

The fabric cut into Kaia's neck, but she let out a cold, raspy laugh. "Where is your proof?"

Her defiance was the final straw. Gerrit didn't throw her this time; instead, he gripped her arms and shook her with such violent contempt that her vision blurred. The sudden, jarring motion tore through the fragile stability of her internal injuries. No impact was needed—her body simply gave up.

A thick, heavy taste of rusted iron flooded the back of her throat. A mouthful of hot blood rushed into her mouth. Kaia clamped her teeth together. She forced her throat muscles to swallow the blood back down into her stomach.

But she couldn't catch it all. A thin, bright red line of blood leaked from the corner of her lips and dripped down her pale chin.

Gerrit saw the blood. His pupils shrank. His hands froze in mid-air, a sudden flash of confusion hitting him.

Kaia raised her hand. She wiped the blood away with her thumb. She stared at him, her eyes sharper than broken glass.

"You are going to regret this, Gerrit," she said, her voice dead and hollow.

She pushed past his frozen body. She kept her spine perfectly straight and walked out of the boutique, the fire of absolute hatred finally igniting in her chest.

Kaia walked out of the boutique and stepped straight into the waiting Maybach. "Drive to the cafe on the Upper East Side."

The moment the car doors locked, her body gave out. She grabbed a tissue, pressed it against her mouth, and coughed violently. When she pulled the tissue away, it was soaked in dark red blood.

She arrived at the private room in the cafe. Her best friend, Alaia, was already sitting there with a laptop open.

Alaia looked up. She saw the blood staining Kaia's lips and gasped. "Oh my god, I'm calling an ambulance."

Kaia grabbed Alaia's wrist, her grip surprisingly strong. "Sit down. Show me what you found."

Alaia swallowed hard. She turned the laptop around and hit play. It was a compilation of dark web transactions and street camera footage.

The video clearly showed Seraphina standing in a dark alley, handing a thick stack of cash to the man in the baseball cap.

Kaia stared at the screen. A cold, vicious smile spread across her face. She plugged her phone in and downloaded the video.

"Where is Seraphina right now?" Kaia asked.

"Gerrit checked her into the VIP suite at Manhattan Private Hospital to recover from the 'shock'," Alaia replied.

Kaia stood up. "Let's go."

Kaia walked through the hospital lobby, her heels clicking loudly against the tile. She took the elevator straight to the top floor.

She pushed open the door to the VIP suite. Seraphina was sitting up in bed, looking perfectly healthy, blowing on a cup of steaming hot tea.

When Seraphina saw Kaia, the relaxed smile vanished. She instantly widened her eyes, trying to look terrified.

Kaia didn't say a word. She walked right up to the side of the bed and shoved her phone screen directly into Seraphina's face.

The video played. The sound of Seraphina negotiating the price with the fake stalker echoed loudly in the quiet room.

All the color drained from Seraphina's face. She lunged forward, trying to snatch the phone out of Kaia's hand.

Kaia stepped back. "If you don't want this video on the front page of the New York Times tomorrow, you will pack your bags and leave this city."

Seraphina was backed into a corner. A look of pure, malicious panic flashed in her eyes.

She looked past Kaia. Through the glass window of the door, she saw Gerrit's tall figure walking down the hallway toward the room.

Seraphina grabbed the porcelain cup of boiling hot tea from the nightstand. Without hesitating, she threw the scalding liquid directly at Kaia's face.

Kaia threw her arm up on instinct. The boiling tea splashed across the back of her hand and soaked into her exposed collarbone.

The delicate skin instantly turned violently red. Huge blisters bubbled up on the surface. Kaia let out a sharp cry of pain and stumbled backward.

At that exact second, Gerrit pushed the door open. He watched the last drops of the hot tea fall from Seraphina's hand.

The room fell dead silent. Gerrit stared at the horrific red burns blistering across Kaia's collarbone. His brain stopped functioning.

Seraphina immediately started sobbing. "She was trying to blackmail me with a fake video! I got scared and knocked the cup over!"

Gerrit didn't look at Seraphina. He looked down at the floor. Kaia had dropped her phone. The screen was still glowing, looping the video of Seraphina paying the stalker.

The truth hit Gerrit like a physical punch to the gut.

Kaia stood there, her body trembling from the agonizing burns and the cancer eating her insides. She looked at Gerrit with absolute, unfiltered disgust.

Gerrit's face turned pale. He lunged forward and scooped Kaia's shaking body into his arms.

Seraphina screamed his name, but he ignored her. He held Kaia tightly against his chest and sprinted out of the room, running frantically toward the emergency room downstairs.

Gerrit kicked the double doors of the Emergency Room open. "I need a doctor right now!" he roared, his voice cracking with panic.

He laid Kaia down on a hospital bed. A doctor rushed over with a pair of trauma shears and cut the wet fabric away from her neck.

The harsh fluorescent lights exposed the massive, angry blisters covering her collarbone and shoulder. Gerrit stared at the ruined skin. His large hands began to shake uncontrollably.

"I'm going to administer a strong painkiller," the doctor said, pulling on gloves. "And I need to draw blood for a full panel to check for infection."

Kaia's heart slammed against her ribs. If they ran her blood, the late-stage cancer and organ failure would be exposed immediately.

She reached out and clamped her uninjured hand over the doctor's wrist. "No blood tests," she said, her voice weak but absolute. "I have severe allergies to certain medical plastics."

Gerrit frowned deeply. He stepped closer to the bed. "Do the full blood panel. She was rolling on the floor in agony last night."

Kaia slowly turned her head. She locked her eyes onto his. "You told me I was acting last night, Gerrit. Why pretend to care now?"

The words hit Gerrit like a slap to the face. His mouth opened, but he had absolutely nothing to say. A deep, ugly wave of guilt washed over his features.

He took a step back. He didn't argue with her again. The doctor sighed, cleaned the burns, applied a thick layer of silver sulfadiazine cream, and wrapped her shoulder in white gauze.

The doctor and nurses left the cubicle. The curtain slid shut. The small space smelled heavily of bleach and sterile bandages.

Gerrit stood at the foot of the bed. He looked at her pale, exhausted face. He opened his mouth, trying to find the words to explain what happened upstairs with Seraphina.

Kaia raised her uninjured hand, stopping him.

She looked at Alaia, who was standing quietly in the corner. "You went back to the penthouse for my ID, right? Did you bring it?"

Alaia nodded, her expression grim. "I grabbed everything you left on the coffee table." She pulled the manila envelope out of her bag and handed it to Gerrit.

Gerrit looked confused. He pulled the thick stack of papers out. The bold black letters at the top of the page read: Divorce Settlement Agreement.

His head snapped up. He stared at her, his eyes wide with shock. "What is this?"

Kaia leaned back against the thin hospital pillow. The rigid posture she always maintained was gone. She looked completely transparent, like she might fade away into the sheets.

"I am tired," she said softly. "I don't want to play this game anymore. I agree to the divorce."

Gerrit rapidly flipped through the pages. His eyes scanned the legal jargon. He froze. "You are giving up all claims to the Woodward family trust and the premarital assets?"

Kaia pointed a weak finger at the final page. "I am voluntarily waiving all income rights to my premarital assets and transferring them entirely to you," she said, her voice raspy but absolute. "In exchange, just wire five million dollars to my account as a clean buyout. And ensure my final will's specific musical arrangements are honored."

Five million dollars was pocket change to the Downs family. Asking for such a low amount was the ultimate insult to their marriage.

Gerrit's fingers gripped the paper so hard the edges crumpled. A sudden, terrifying panic gripped his chest. It felt like something vital was being ripped out of his life forever.

"This is ridiculous," Gerrit said, his voice tight. "I'm not signing this. I need my lawyers to review it."

Kaia looked at him. Her eyes were completely dead. "Why hesitate? Isn't this the freedom you've been punishing me for?"

That sentence struck Gerrit's weakest point. He looked at the thick white bandages covering her neck, the physical evidence of his blindness and Seraphina’s cruelty. His mind was a chaotic mess of guilt, confusion, and the crushing realization that he no longer had the right to hold her captive.

The guilt won.

Gerrit reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He pulled out his Montblanc fountain pen. He flipped to the last page and aggressively signed his name on the dotted line—not as a gift to Seraphina, but as the only way to stop the bleeding of Kaia’s dignity.

He handed her copy back to her. He stared at her for one long, heavy second, then turned and walked out of the ER cubicle.

Kaia looked down at the paper. The two signatures sat side by side. A single tear fell from her eye and hit the ink. Three years of secret love and marriage were officially dead.