Lily's hand shot out. Her fingers brushed the cold, crisp bills, but instead of taking them, she shoved them.

The money scattered off the piano, fluttering to the floor like dead leaves.

"I don't want your money," she said. Her voice was muffled by the mask, but the tone was unmistakable.

Ethan stopped. He turned around slowly, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"I said," Lily stood up, the piano bench screeching against the floorboards, "keep your charity."

Serena was watching from the booth, a smirk playing on her lips. She wanted this. She wanted the scene.

"Pick it up," Ethan said, his voice dropping to that dangerous, quiet level. "You're making a scene."

"Am I?" Lily reached up behind her head. She pulled off the glasses. She unhooked the mask.

She let it fall.

Ethan's eyes went wide. His pupils dilated, swallowing the grey irises. He looked at her face-pale, devoid of makeup, eyes burning with a fire he had never seen before-and he took a step back. The recognition hit him like a physical blow.

"Lily?" The word was a breath, a question.

The restaurant fell silent. Diners turned in their seats.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Ethan hissed, stepping closer to block her from view. "Dressed like... this? Playing for tips? Are you trying to humiliate me?"

"I'm working, Ethan," Lily said, her voice clear and carrying. "It's called earning a living. You froze my cards, remember?"

"I froze them so you would come home! Not so you could cosplay as a servant in my favorite restaurant!" His face flushed with anger. "Get your coat. We're leaving."

He reached for her arm.

Lily stepped back. "Don't touch me."

"Lily, stop this madness. You're my wife."

"I am your employee," she corrected. "Or I was. Until I quit."

Serena appeared at Ethan's elbow. "Oh my god, Lily! Is that you?" Her acting was Oscar-worthy. She covered her mouth with a manicured hand. "I didn't recognize you in those... rags. Ethan, don't be mad at her. She's obviously desperate."

Serena opened her clutch. She pulled out a checkbook. "Here," she said, scribbling quickly. She tore off a check. "Five thousand. That should cover a hotel and some new clothes. Please, stop embarrassing Ethan."

She held the check out to Lily.

Lily looked at the paper. Then at Serena's face. The malice in Serena's eyes was shining bright and clear.

Lily took the check.

Serena smiled triumphantly.

Lily ripped the check in half. Then in quarters. She threw the pieces into the air. They rained down on the bodice of the midnight blue dress.

"You can buy his time, Serena," Lily said, her voice shaking with adrenaline. "You can buy his bed. You can even wear my dress. But you can't buy me."

Serena let out a dramatic gasp, stepping back as if slapped. "Ethan! She's crazy!"

"That's enough!" Ethan roared. He stepped between them, shielding Serena. He looked at Lily with pure disgust. "You have lost your mind. Look at yourself. You're pathetic."

Pierre, the manager, rushed over, sweating profusely. "Miss! You are fired! Get out! Immediately!"

"I'm leaving," Lily said. She grabbed her purse from under the piano.

She walked past Ethan. He didn't try to stop her this time. He was too busy brushing the confetti of the check off Serena's shoulder.

Lily walked out of the warm restaurant and into the biting cold of the New York night. The snow was falling harder now, thick flakes that stuck to her eyelashes.

She stood on the sidewalk, her chest heaving. She had no job. No coat. No husband.

She started to laugh. It was a broken, jagged sound.

Behind her, the restaurant door banged open.

"Lily!"

Ethan strode out into the snow, ignoring the valet who ran toward him. He looked furious. He looked terrifying.

He marched toward her, closing the distance in three long strides.

Ethan caught her wrist before she could reach the corner. His grip was iron, hot even through the freezing air. He spun her around and shoved her backward.

Lily stumbled, her back hitting the rough brick wall of the alleyway next to the restaurant. The cold seeped instantly through her thin dress.

"Let go of me!" she screamed, trying to wrench her arm free.

"Stop fighting me!" Ethan pinned her against the wall, his body pressing into hers, trapping her. His breathing was ragged, creating clouds of white steam that mixed with hers. "What is wrong with you? Do you have any idea who was in there? The CEO of Goldman was at table six. You just made me look like a fool."

"You made yourself a fool when you brought your mistress to our favorite restaurant wearing the gown you bought for me," Lily spat back, staring up into his eyes.

"She is not my mistress!" Ethan yelled. "She is my partner! And you are my wife! Act like it!"

He reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a card. It was sleek, black metal. A new Centurion card.

He jammed it into the pocket of her dress.

"Take it," he commanded. "Go back to the manor. Buy whatever you want. Redecorate the whole damn house. Just stop this... this poverty LARPing. It's embarrassing."

Lily looked at him. Really looked at him. He was handsome, rich, powerful. And he was completely empty. He thought a credit card was a bandage for a bullet wound.

She reached into her pocket. She pulled out the card.

"You still don't get it," she whispered.

She held the card up between them. With both hands, she bent it. The metal was tough, but her anger was stronger. She bent it until it warped, until the chip snapped. She dropped the twisted metal into the slush at their feet.

"I want a divorce, Ethan. Not a raise."

Ethan stared at the card in the snow. His face went blank. Then, a dark, ugly sneer curled his lip.

"Fine," he said softly. "You want to be independent? Be independent. But know this, Lily: without me, you are nothing. You have no money. You have no degree. You have no friends who aren't my friends first."

He leaned in, his nose almost touching hers. "You will freeze in this city. You will starve. And when you are sleeping on a park bench, you will crawl back to me. And I will make you beg."

"Watch me," Lily said. "Watch me live better without you."

"Ethan!" Serena's voice drifted from the restaurant entrance. She was standing under the awning, wrapped in a white fur coat, looking like a snow queen. "Ethan, darling, it's freezing! Come back inside."

Ethan looked at Lily one last time. His eyes were a storm of conflicting emotions-rage, possession, and something else... fear?

No. Not fear. Ethan Sterling didn't feel fear.

He stepped back. He brushed off his lapels. "Have a nice life, Ms. Miller."

He turned and walked back to Serena. He wrapped his arm around her waist-tighter than necessary-and led her toward the waiting Rolls Royce.

Lily watched them get in. The car pulled away, the exhaust pipe coughing a cloud of black smoke into her face.

She was alone.

She pulled her phone out. Her fingers were so cold she could barely type.

To Chloe: I'm coming home. I got fired.

She walked to the subway station. The wind cut through her dress like knives. She didn't feel the cold anymore. She felt a burning fever starting to rise.

By the time she got to Chloe's, she was shaking violently. Chloe took one look at her and dragged her to bed, piling blankets on top of her.

Lily drifted into a fever dream. She was standing on a podium, holding a diploma that turned to dust in her hands. Ethan was in the audience, small and insignificant, clapping with hands that made no sound.

When she woke up the next morning, the fever had broken. She felt weak, but her mind was crystal clear.

She sat up. She grabbed Chloe's laptop.

She typed into the search bar: Azure Architects.

It was the rival firm. The only firm in New York that hated Sterling Corp as much as she did.

In his office, Ethan stared at the divorce papers on his desk. They were unsigned.

He picked up his phone. "Spencer."

"Yes, sir?"

"Call every design firm in the city. Tell them if they hire Lily Miller, Sterling Corp pulls all funding and future contracts. Blacklist her."

"Sir? Is that... wise?"

"Do it," Ethan snarled. "Burn her bridges. Every single one of them."