Dayna POV:

Brooks froze. His body, usually so controlled, became rigid. His eyes fixed on the scattered pieces of the divorce papers at his feet. The color drained from his face as he finally, truly, saw them. Saw my signature, his signature, the official seals. The undeniable proof.

He bent to pick them up, his movements slow and deliberate, as if in a daze. But just as his fingers brushed the crumpled paper, his phone blared. The ringtone. Everleigh's special ringtone. A childish, tinkling melody that grated on my nerves.

His head snapped up. His eyes, now filled with a desperate urgency, darted to his phone, then back to the papers. Everleigh always came first. Always.

He snatched his phone, his thumb swiping across the screen. "Everleigh? What is it?" His voice was laced with a frantic anxiety I had never heard directed at me. "I'm coming. Don't worry. I'll be right there."

He didn't even look at me. He just grabbed his jacket, already half out the door. "Dayna," he mumbled, his voice rushed, "I have to go. Everleigh needs me. We'll talk about this later. Don't... don't do anything rash."

Rash. The irony was a bitter pill. He was talking about divorce papers he' d already signed, about a marriage he' d already broken. I watched him go, the door clicking shut behind him. He hadn't even looked at the contents of the papers, hadn't even processed the finality of it. Everleigh's call was an emergency. My heartbreak was a "talk about this later."

A cold, hard laugh bubbled up from my chest. It was almost comical. He hadn't even bothered to read the document that severed our ties. It was just another piece of paper, easily dismissed in the face of Everleigh's latest crisis.

I got out of bed, my foot still aching, but my mind clear of any lingering doubts. I calmly collected the scattered pieces of the divorce papers, smoothed them out as best I could, and placed them in a small, locked box in my closet. The cooling-off period was almost over. I just had to wait.

Days turned into a week. Brooks didn't come home. His presence, or rather, his absence, was a palpable void. He was with Everleigh, of course. Tending to her latest manufactured crisis. I heard whispers from the staff-Everleigh's engagement to the Sterling heir had been called off. Another scandal. Another reason for Brooks to be by her side, consoling her, protecting her.

Then, one evening, he returned. He burst through the door, his face flushed, his eyes blazing, a storm cloud of fury unleashed.

"What did you do, Dayna?" he roared, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. "What did you do to Everleigh?"

I looked at him, surprised. A quiet, almost serene smile touched my lips. "To Everleigh? I haven't done anything to Everleigh, Brooks. I've been here, quietly waiting for our divorce to be finalized."

My voice was calm, almost detached. And the sight of my composure seemed to enrage him further. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowed. "Don't lie to me! Everleigh just called. She's been arrested! For theft!"

He paused, a triumphant sneer on his face. "And she said you put her up to it. Convinced her to 'borrow' a painting from a gallery, just to get back at me."

His words were a whirlwind of accusations, a frantic torrent of sound. He was talking. So much. More than he had ever talked to me. And it was all for Everleigh. All about her. My heart, which I thought was numb, pulsed with a fresh wave of pain.

"She said that?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "She said I put her up to it?"

"Yes!" he thundered. "She's in a holding cell right now, terrified! Do you have any idea what this could do to her? To us? To the family's reputation?"

Dayna POV:

The absurdity of his accusation was almost laughable. Me? Putting Everleigh up to stealing a painting? I had been heartbroken, yes, but never malicious. He truly knew nothing about me.

"Are you insane?" I shot back, my voice rising. "Why would I do something like that? And why would Everleigh listen to me, of all people? She despises me!"

He took a step closer, his hands clamping down on my shoulders, his grip tight, almost bruising. "Don't play coy, Dayna! I know you're upset. But this is not the way to handle it. You think you can hurt me by hurting Everleigh?"

I struggled against his grip, but he held me fast. "Let go of me, Brooks! You're hurting me!"

He ignored my plea. "You will go to the precinct right now. You will tell them the painting was a gift from you. A misunderstanding. Say whatever you need to, but get her out of there!"

My blood ran cold. He wanted me to lie. To take the fall. To protect Everleigh, again. The ultimate betrayal. My sister's legacy, once more, trampled underfoot for Everleigh's convenience.

"No," I said, my voice trembling with defiance. "I won't. I won't lie for her. I won't protect her. She has to face the consequences of her actions."

His eyes blazed with a fury I had never witnessed. "You will, Dayna. You will do this for me. For us." His voice dropped, a dangerous edge to it. "Or there will be consequences."

A sudden, primal rage surged through me. I brought my teeth down hard on his arm, biting him with all my might. He cried out, a guttural sound, and released me. A faint line of blood appeared on his forearm.

He looked at the mark, then back at me, his eyes narrowed. "You really are determined to be difficult, aren't you?" He shook his head, a chilling certainty in his voice. "Fine. If you won't do it willingly, I'll make you."

"I'll kill myself first!" I screamed, the words a desperate, empty threat.

He scoffed. A cold, dismissive sound. "No, you won't, Dayna. You're too much of a talker to ever be truly silent. You're too full of life to end it. Besides," he leaned in close, his voice a low, dangerous whisper, "you love me too much. You would never do anything to truly hurt me."

His words, meant to wound, had the opposite effect. A sudden, terrifying clarity washed over me. He was right. I wouldn't kill myself. I wouldn't. Because he wasn't worth it. And in that moment, something shifted inside me. The desperation, the clinging love, began to curdle into a cold, hard resolve. I would leave him. I would reclaim myself.

"You're right," I said, my voice surprisingly calm. "I won't kill myself."

A flicker of triumph crossed his face. He thought he had won. He thought he had broken me.

"But I'm not going to the precinct," I continued, my voice gaining strength. "And I'm not doing anything for you, or for Everleigh, ever again." With a fierce shove, I pushed him away.

He stumbled back, his face paling. The look in his eyes was pure, unadulterated rage. He punched a fist against the wall, a sickening thud. "Fine, Dayna! You want to play hardball? We'll play hardball!" He pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen. "Jenkins! Get over here! Now! And prepare the isolation room. Our esteemed Mrs. Preston needs some time to reflect."

He turned back to me, his eyes cold and hard. "You think you can defy me? You think you can walk away? You'll stay here, Dayna. Until you learn your place. Until you agree to do what's necessary." He walked out, his parting words echoing in the sudden silence. "And don't even think about trying to escape. Every door, every window, is locked. Consider this your personal rehabilitation."

Dayna POV:

His men, silent and imposing, appeared almost immediately. They grabbed me, their hands firm, unyielding. I struggled, but their strength was overwhelming. A cold dread washed over me. The isolation room.

My mind, already fragile, snapped back to a childhood nightmare. Kidnapped. Blindfolded. Trapped in a dark, suffocating space. The crushing weight of the walls, the desperate scramble for air. Claustrophobia. My greatest fear.

He knew. Brooks knew. I had told him, in one of my endless monologues, about the terrifying experience, the years of therapy, the lingering fear of enclosed spaces. He had held me then, comforting me, promising to always protect me from my demons.

"I will never let anything hurt you again, Dayna," he had whispered, his voice a rare comfort. "Never. You're safe with me."

Lies. All of it. He wasn't protecting me. He was weaponizing my fear. For Everleigh. Always for Everleigh.

I was shoved into the room. It was small, windowless, the air thick and heavy. The door slammed shut with a deafening thud, plunging me into absolute darkness. Panic seized me. My heart hammered against my ribs, my breath caught in my throat. I clawed at the walls, my nails tearing, desperate for an escape. The memories flooded back, suffocating me, drowning me in terror.

I curled into a ball on the floor, my body shaking uncontrollably, every nerve ending screaming in protest. But even in my terror, a stubborn defiance ignited within me. I would not break. Not for him. Not for Everleigh. Not when my sister's memory, her dignity, was at stake. I would endure. I would survive.

Three days and nights blurred into a hellish eternity. My throat was raw from screaming, my body weak from hunger and thirst. I was on the verge of collapse, my mind teetering on the edge of madness.

Then, a cold, disembodied voice echoed through the room. Brooks's voice. "Still stubborn, Dayna?"

I looked up, my eyes, weak from the darkness, straining to see. Tiny pinpricks of light. Cameras. Everywhere. He had been watching me. Watching my terror, my struggle, my complete breakdown. He had seen my claustrophobia, my deepest fear, unfold before his eyes, and he had done nothing. He had revelled in it.

The realization hit me harder than any physical blow. He wasn't just indifferent. He was cruel. He was a monster. The man I had loved, the man I had married, was capable of a calculated malevolence that chilled me to the bone.

A fresh wave of anger, cold and clear, washed over me, eclipsing the fear. I screamed, a primal, guttural sound of pure rage, and then, mercifully, the darkness consumed me.

I woke in a hospital bed, the sterile white walls a stark contrast to the suffocating black of the isolation room. My head throbbed, my body ached, but my mind was clear. On the bedside table, a crisp, white note. Brooks's elegant handwriting.

Everleigh is fine. She's been released. Don't worry. Brooks.

No mention of my condition. No apology. Just a casual update on his precious sister. I ripped the note into tiny pieces, a dry, bitter laugh escaping my lips.

Then, a sudden realization sparked through me. The date. Today was the final day of the cooling-off period. And Everleigh's engagement party, the one that had been called off, was due to be re-announced this evening. A live-streamed charity gala.

I ripped the IV from my arm, the needle tearing a small wound. Ignoring the nurse's frantic cries, I grabbed my clothes and dressed, my movements fueled by a newfound purpose. I needed to get to the civil registry office. And then, I needed to make a very public statement.

The divorce papers were finalized in a blur. The clerk, a kind-faced woman, offered a sympathetic smile. "Are you sure about this, dear?"

"Never been surer," I said, my voice steady.

Just as I stepped out, my phone rang. Brooks.

"Dayna," his voice was annoyingly calm. "I hope you're feeling better. I'm glad you're not doing anything rash."

"Never better, Brooks," I said, a dangerous edge to my voice.

"Good. Look, about tonight's gala. It's important for the family's image, you understand. After everything with Everleigh, we need a united front. So, if you could just... make an appearance, stand by my side. For a little while. Just to reassure everyone that everything is fine."

I almost laughed. He wanted me to be his prop again. His smiling, talking prop. But this time, the words I would speak would not be for him.

"Of course, Brooks," I said, my voice sweet, cloying. "I'd be delighted."

He sounded relieved. "Excellent. I knew you'd understand. I'll see you there." He hung up.

I smiled. A cold, hard smile that didn't reach my eyes. I hailed a cab, not to the gala, but to the airport. I had a different kind of appearance to make.

As I sat in the airport lounge, waiting for my flight to Paris, my phone vibrated. A video call. Brooks. Live-streamed from the gala.

The host, a bubbly socialite, was gushing about the Preston family's resilience. "And here we have the lovely Mrs. Dayna Preston," she chirped, turning the camera towards me. "Looking absolutely radiant! And such a devoted sister-in-law, always supporting Everleigh!"

I looked into the camera, my face calm, my eyes clear. "Yes," I said, my voice resonating with a newfound strength. "Devoted. And I have a special message for Everleigh tonight." I looked directly at the camera, my gaze piercing. "Everleigh, darling, congratulations on your re-engagement. I'm so happy for you. And for Brooks. Because now, you can have him. I've already divorced him. He's all yours."