The heavy oak door clicked shut. Alondra didn't look back.

She walked out of the luxury building and raised her hand. A yellow cab pulled over immediately.

"Long Island," she told the driver, sliding into the cracked leather seat.

An hour later, the cab pulled up to the grand entrance of a high-end luxury hotel. The doorman tipped his hat and opened her door.

Alondra walked straight to the front desk. She pulled out a black credit card-the one linked to her personal trust fund, completely separate from the Arnold accounts.

"Your best suite," she told the clerk.

Once inside the massive room, she stripped off her clothes and stepped into the shower. She turned the water as hot as she could stand. The scalding spray turned her skin pink, washing away the lingering scent of Gerard's cologne.

She stepped out, dried off, and put on a sharp, tailored black business suit she had packed.

She sat down in the leather chair by the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the ocean. She picked up her phone and dialed a Manhattan number.

An hour later, she pushed open the glass doors of a top-tier family law firm in Midtown.

A senior partner handed her a cup of black coffee across a polished mahogany desk. "What are your terms, Ms. Lang?"

Alondra took a sip. The bitter liquid burned her tongue.

"Strict enforcement of the prenuptial agreement," Alondra said. "I waive all rights to alimony. I want zero dollars from the Arnold estate. I just want the marriage dissolved as fast as legally possible."

The lawyer blinked, stunned by her bluntness. He quickly turned to his computer and began typing furiously.

Twenty minutes later, the printer spit out a thick stack of papers. The terms were brutal, leaving no room for negotiation or reconciliation.

Alondra flipped to the last page. She grabbed a pen and signed her name with aggressive, sweeping strokes.

"Send this to Gerard's office immediately," Alondra instructed, sliding the papers back. "Hand-deliver it to him."

Across the city, in the top-floor boardroom of the Arnold Global building, the air was suffocatingly tense.

Gerard sat at the head of the long glass table. His face was a mask of cold fury as he listened to a terrified VP give a quarterly report.

The heavy boardroom doors opened. Leland Vance, Gerard's executive assistant, hurried in. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

Leland walked up to Gerard and leaned down, handing him a thick manila envelope with a law firm's logo stamped on the front.

Gerard frowned. He ripped the seal open and pulled out the document.

The words "Divorce Agreement" stared back at him.

His pupils contracted. He flipped directly to the back page. There it was. Alondra's signature. Crisp. Unhesitating.

The executives around the table stopped talking. They exchanged nervous glances as the temperature in the room plummeted.

A hot, irrational anger flared in Gerard's chest. She was actually trying to push his limits. She thought this piece of paper would make him chase her.

He scoffed. He grabbed the thick stack of papers with both hands.

With a violent jerk, he ripped the entire document in half. The loud tearing sound echoed sharply in the silent room.

He threw the shredded pieces into the metal trash can by his feet.

He turned his glaring eyes to Leland. "If that firm sends anything else, reject it at the front desk."

"Yes, sir," Leland stammered, taking a step back and wiping his brow.

Gerard turned his attention back to the VP, but the words blurred. His mind kept flashing back to the image of Alondra pulling that suitcase out the door.

He yanked at his tie, loosening it roughly. He slammed his palm flat against the glass table.

"Meeting suspended," Gerard snapped.

The executives scrambled out of the boardroom like escaping mice.

At that exact moment, Alondra's black heels clicked against the polished marble floor of the Arnold Global ground-floor lobby.

She walked straight toward the VIP elevator bank. Two massive security guards stepped into her path, blocking the scanners.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," the taller guard said, his face blank. "The system shows your access card was deactivated thirty minutes ago."

Alondra let out a cold laugh. Gerard was throwing a tantrum. It was pathetic.

She didn't argue. She took a step back, pulled her phone from her purse, and dialed Leland's direct line.

It rang four times before Leland answered. His voice was clipped and professional. "Mr. Arnold's office."

"Tell security to let me up, Leland," Alondra said.

"Mrs. Arnold," Leland sighed, sounding annoyed. "Mr. Arnold is in a very important meeting. He is not seeing anyone today."

Alondra didn't raise her voice. She simply read an address. "Apt 4B. 1290 Bedford Avenue, Brooklyn."

The line went dead silent. Leland stopped breathing.

Alondra continued, her tone freezing over. "Would you like me to describe the exact shade of the silk tie you wore that evening, Leland? Or perhaps I should just forward this address and Sarah Jenkins' name directly to Arnold Global's internal audit and compliance department. Come down here and get me. Now."

"I'll be right there." The line clicked dead.

Three minutes later, the VIP elevator doors slid open. Leland jogged out. His face was pale, and his suit jacket was unbuttoned.

He waved frantically at the security guards. "She's cleared. Let her through."

Alondra stepped into the elevator. Leland followed, keeping his distance. The doors slid shut.

Inside the small metal box, Leland stared at his shoes. He was sweating profusely.

"Keep your mouth shut about this," Alondra said, watching the floor numbers tick upward.

The elevator dinged at the top floor. Alondra stepped out first.

She walked down the long, carpeted hallway. Several secretaries looked up from their desks. Their eyes widened in shock, and they immediately started whispering to each other.

Alondra ignored them. She stopped in front of the massive, double mahogany doors of the CEO's office.

Leland rushed forward, trying to reach the intercom. "Let me announce you-"

Alondra shoved his hand away.

She grabbed the heavy brass handle. She took one deep breath, forcing down the phantom pain of crushed ribs from her past life.

She twisted the handle and shoved the doors open with all her body weight.

The doors banged against the walls.

Gerard was sitting behind his massive desk. His head snapped up. His sharp eyes locked onto her.

The initial shock on his face instantly morphed into dark, explosive anger.

Alondra stepped inside. She reached behind her back, pulled the doors shut, and twisted the deadbolt lock until it clicked.

The sharp click of the lock echoed in the cavernous office.

Gerard pushed his chair back violently and stood up. He planted both hands flat on his desk. "How the hell did you get past security?"

He slammed his finger down on the intercom button. "Security, get up here now."

Alondra walked forward. She reached into her leather tote bag, pulled out a fresh copy of the divorce agreement, and slapped it down on his desk.

"Security isn't coming," Alondra said coldly. "Leland brought me up himself."

Gerard's face turned a dangerous shade of red. His jaw muscles ticked. His own assistant had defied him.

He walked around the edge of the desk. His tall, broad frame cast a shadow over her. He stepped into her personal space, trying to use his physical size to intimidate her.

In the past, Alondra would have shrunk back. Her hands would have trembled.

Today, she stood completely still. She tilted her chin up and met his furious gaze without blinking.

Gerard looked down at the paper on the desk. He let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "This is getting pathetic, Alondra. You really think this fake tough act is going to work?"

He reached out, his large hand closing over the edge of the document, ready to rip this one to shreds too.

Alondra's hand shot out. She slammed her palm flat against the center of the paper, pinning it to the wood. Her manicured nail dug a groove into the top page.

"Don't touch it," she spat, her eyes filled with raw disgust. "You're dirty."

The word hit Gerard like a physical blow. His eyes widened slightly. His pride, massive and fragile, shattered.

He lunged forward and grabbed her wrist. His fingers dug into her skin, squeezing hard enough to bruise the bone.

"Watch your mouth," Gerard hissed, his face inches from hers. "You are nothing without me."

Alondra didn't flinch. She ignored the throbbing pain in her wrist. With her free hand, she snatched the heavy Montblanc pen from his desk set and slammed it down onto the mahogany wood right in front of him.

"If you're so far above me," Alondra sneered, her voice dripping with venom, "then sign it. Cut me loose. Go be a cheap father to Cecil's bastard."

Gerard's breathing turned ragged. His chest heaved. The mention of Cecil and the baby hit a nerve he couldn't control.

He shoved her wrist away, throwing her arm back. He felt his authority slipping, his control evaporating.

"You want to ruin your life?" Gerard snarled, his eyes burning with rage. "Fine. Die in the gutter."

He ripped the cap off the pen. He flipped the pages over violently and slashed his signature across the bottom line. He pressed so hard the metal nib tore through the paper, leaving a jagged gash in the document.

He threw the signed paper back at her chest.

"Court. Friday. Ten AM. Don't be late," he barked.

Alondra caught the paper. She looked down at his messy, angry signature. A genuine, relieved smile spread across her face.

Gerard saw that smile. A sudden, cold spike of panic hit his stomach. It felt wrong.

She folded the document carefully, treating it like a winning lottery ticket, and slid it into her bag.

She turned around and walked to the door. She unlocked it and walked out without a single backward glance.

Gerard stood alone in the silence. He stared at the empty space where she had just been. He grabbed the heavy crystal ashtray off his desk and hurled it at the wall. It shattered into a hundred pieces.