The sound of Meryl's hand cutting through the air was sharp.

Cilla didn't flinch. Her eyes narrowed.

Before Meryl's palm could connect with her cheek, Cilla's left arm shot up, catching the older woman's wrist in a surprisingly firm grip. The sudden block was fueled by pure adrenaline, stopping the incoming strike completely.

The impact stopped Meryl's arm dead in its tracks.

Meryl gasped, trying to yank her hand back. It didn't move an inch.

Cilla squeezed. Just a fraction of an inch tighter.

"Ah!" Meryl cried out, her face twisting in genuine pain. "Let go of me!"

"Cilla! Drop her arm right now!" Jace roared, taking a threatening step forward.

Cilla scoffed. She shoved Meryl's arm away, releasing her grip.

The force of the push made Meryl stumble backward, her expensive heels catching on the rug.

Sierra rushed forward, grabbing her mother's shoulders to keep her from falling. "You violent psycho!" Sierra screamed.

Meryl's face was flushed with humiliation and rage. She glared at the urn in Cilla's arms.

"You bring trash into this house!" Meryl shrieked.

Suddenly, Meryl lunged forward again, her manicured hands reaching out to grab the urn.

Cilla saw the movement. She twisted her torso sharply to the right, pulling the urn out of Meryl's reach.

Meryl missed the ceramic base, but her long, acrylic fingernails caught the fabric of the folded American flag.

There was a sickening ripping sound.

Cilla looked down. A jagged tear ran across the red and white stripes.

A cold, dark switch flipped inside Cilla's brain.

The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Cilla took one slow step forward.

The aura radiating from her was pure, unfiltered violence. It was the energy of a woman who had survived war zones.

Meryl saw the look in Cilla's eyes. The older woman began to tremble violently, her knees giving out as she collapsed onto the sofa.

Jace rushed over, standing between Cilla and his mother.

"Are you insane?" Jace yelled, his chest heaving. "Look what you're doing to her! She has a heart condition!"

He pointed a shaking finger at the front door. "Get out. Take that thing and get out of my house. Now."

Cilla looked at Jace. She looked at the man who was choosing his vicious mother over his wife.

A bitter, hollow laugh escaped her lips.

She adjusted her grip on the urn, making sure the torn flag was secure.

"You're kicking me out because of her?" Cilla asked, her voice dropping to a whisper that carried across the room.

"Yes," Jace spat without a second of hesitation. "This is my property."

Cilla nodded slowly. "Understood."

She turned around and started walking toward the foyer. Her steps were light, completely unburdened.

Just as she reached the doorway, she stopped. She didn't turn around, but she tilted her head slightly.

"You know that initial capital you used to start Hudson Tech?" Cilla asked, her voice cutting through the silence.

Jace frowned. "What about it? I earned that."

Cilla looked over her shoulder, her eyes locking onto his.

"You didn't earn a dime of it," Cilla said coldly. "That money was the federal death gratuity paid out by the government when my parents were killed in action."

Jace froze. The color drained completely from his face.

Meryl stopped crying, her mouth hanging open in shock.

They had built their entire empire on the blood money of the parents they had just insulted.

Cilla didn't wait to see if he would speak. She stepped out into the hallway.

She grabbed the handle and pulled the heavy door shut.

The latch clicked into place, severing her ties to the Hudson family forever.

The drive down to Washington D.C. took hours, but Cilla didn't feel the fatigue.

She pulled through the gates of Arlington National Cemetery just as the sky opened up.

A steady, freezing rain began to fall, turning the world into a wash of gray.

Cilla parked the car. She stepped out, opening a large black umbrella.

She held the urn tightly against her side, keeping it completely dry beneath the canopy of the umbrella.

She walked up the paved path, passing rows upon rows of identical white marble headstones.

As she approached the Columbarium, a cemetery guard in a rain slicker saw the star-spangled urn in her arms.

He immediately stopped, snapped his heels together, and rendered a slow, crisp salute.

Cilla gave him a brief nod and walked into the covered, open-air structure.

The cemetery administrator was waiting for her. He checked her classified military clearance documents with quiet efficiency.

He led her down a long corridor of marble niches, stopping in front of a designated section reserved for fallen intelligence officers.

Cilla stepped forward. She carefully placed the black urn into the cold stone niche.

She took the torn flag, her fingers tracing the ripped fabric, and folded it tightly, tucking the damaged part out of sight.

She placed the flag next to the urn. Then, she set the velvet box containing their medals right in front.

She took three steps back.

Her heels clicked against the wet stone floor. She stood at attention and raised her right hand to her brow in a final salute.

She stood there for a long time. The sound of the rain hitting the roof echoed around her, masking the heavy, shuddering breath she finally let out.

Her parents were safe now. They were among their own.

Cilla turned away from the niche and walked back toward the entrance of the Columbarium.

She stood under the stone archway, pulling out her phone.

There were thirty missed messages from her best friend, Lena.

Where are you? Are you okay? Call me.

Cilla typed back quickly. I'm fine. Heading back to NY to file the divorce papers.

A gust of freezing wind blew rain under the archway. Cilla narrowed her eyes against the biting chill, her face an unreadable mask as she pulled the collar of her coat tighter around her neck to block the damp cold.

She looked up and saw a massive, armored black Maybach rolling slowly up the driveway.

The car stopped silently.

Four men in dark suits stepped out immediately, opening large black umbrellas.

The rear door opened. A man stepped out into the rain.

He was tall, with broad shoulders hidden beneath a perfectly tailored black trench coat. His face was sharp, angular, and completely devoid of emotion.

It was Bennett Carpenter. The ruthless head of the East Coast's most powerful financial dynasty.

Bennett adjusted his cuffs, his dark eyes scanning the area.

His gaze swept over the archway and landed on Cilla.

Cilla's tactical instincts flared. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. The man exuded an overwhelming, predatory aura.

She met his gaze through the sheets of falling rain.

For one single second, time seemed to stop.

Bennett's eyes narrowed slightly. A flicker of intense familiarity flashed in his dark pupils. He tilted his head, studying the shape of her face, the defiant set of her jaw.

Cilla didn't break eye contact, but her expression remained completely blank.

She stepped out from under the archway, opening her umbrella, and walked past his entourage toward the parking lot.

Bennett stood frozen in the rain, watching her back until she disappeared into the gray mist.

"Sir," one of the bodyguards murmured, stepping closer with the umbrella. "It's time."

Bennett tore his eyes away from the empty path. He turned and walked into the Columbarium.

Cilla got into her car, her heart beating slightly faster than normal. She gripped the steering wheel, pushed the strange encounter out of her mind, and started the engine.

She had a war to fight in New York.

The next morning, Cilla walked into the glass-walled lobby of Hudson Tech.

She wore a sharp, tailored black blazer and trousers. Her posture was flawless.

The receptionist stood up quickly. "Mrs. Hudson, you can't go up without an appointment..."

Cilla didn't even slow down. She shot the receptionist a look so cold and piercing that the woman immediately sat back down, her mouth snapping shut.

Cilla swiped her access card, stepped into the elevator, and rode it to the executive floor.

She pushed open the heavy glass doors of the CEO's office without knocking.

Jace was sitting behind his massive oak desk, reviewing a stack of quarterly reports.

He looked up, his brow furrowing in irritation. "What are you doing here?"

Cilla walked straight to his desk. She pulled a thick manila envelope from her bag and slammed it down onto the polished wood.

The sound made Jace flinch.

"Sign them," Cilla demanded, her voice flat.

Jace looked at the bold letters printed on the top page. Petition for Dissolution of Marriage.

His face darkened instantly. The muscles in his jaw worked furiously.

"Are you serious?" Jace sneered. "Is this your little game? Playing hard to get to make me apologize?"

"I don't want your apology," Cilla said, crossing her arms. "I want your signature. Don't waste my time."

Jace flipped open the document. His eyes scanned the first page, and then he stopped.

His head snapped up. "You want half of my company shares?"

"They are marital assets," Cilla replied smoothly.

"You greedy, bloodsucking leech!" Jace yelled, slamming his hand on the desk. "You didn't build this company! I did!"

Cilla let out a dry, mocking laugh. "Really? Do you really think this company was built by you alone? Jace, without my 'contributions' behind the scenes, Hudson Tech wouldn't have even secured its first round of funding. You'd better pray my lawyers don't start digging into the intellectual property assignments to see who actually did the heavy lifting."

Jace rolled his eyes, his lip curling in disgust. "You're a glorified technician. You sit in a lab and type code. You think you're an expert? The engineering team did the real work."

Cilla didn't bother arguing. His arrogance was a terminal disease.

"Sign the papers, Jace. Or my lawyers will see you in court."

Jace pushed his chair back violently. He stood up and walked around the desk, using his height to tower over her.

He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "If you leave me, you will have nothing. You are a nobody without my money."

Cilla didn't step back. She tilted her chin up, staring directly into his eyes with absolute contempt.

Jace saw the defiance in her eyes. His strategy shifted.

He softened his expression, raising his hand to cup her cheek. "Come on, Cilla. Stop this nonsense. Just admit you overreacted, and we can go back to normal."

Cilla felt her stomach churn. She slapped his hand away so hard the sound echoed in the room.

"Don't ever touch me again," she hissed.

Jace's face twisted in pure rage.

He grabbed the divorce papers from the desk, gripped them in both hands, and ripped the thick stack of paper straight down the middle.

He threw the torn halves into the metal trash can.

"I am never signing those," Jace said, his chest heaving. "I will drag this out until you are begging me for a dollar."

Cilla smirked. "Tear them up. My lawyer has digital copies."

The office door clicked open.

Carolyn walked in, holding two cups of artisanal coffee.

She saw Cilla and immediately stopped. Her eyes widened, and she bit her lower lip, looking like a frightened deer.

"Oh... Jace, did I interrupt something?" Carolyn asked softly.

Jace immediately walked over to Carolyn, wrapping a protective arm around her waist. "No. She was just leaving."

The smell of Carolyn's floral perfume hit Cilla's nose, making her physically nauseous.

Cilla looked at the two of them. They deserved each other.

She turned and walked toward the door.

"The court summons will be delivered to your house," Cilla said without looking back.

She walked out, leaving Jace standing in his office with a vein throbbing in his forehead.