Kaya walked out of the oppressive atmosphere of the dining room. She turned down the long hallway leading toward the east wing sitting room.

"Kaya. Wait."

Kaya stopped and turned. Eleanor was hobbling toward her, leaning heavily on her cane.

The old woman reached into the pocket of her cardigan and pulled out two small, beautifully wrapped boxes. She pressed them into Kaya's hands.

"These are the newest ovulation supplements," Eleanor whispered, her eyes darting around to make sure no one was listening. "Take them daily."

Kaya looked at the boxes. She forced a polite smile. "Thank you, Grandmother."

Eleanor leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. "And don't worry about Jasmine being a nuisance much longer. I've arranged a meeting for her next week with the heir of the Sterling Bank in Manhattan. Once they hit it off, we'll marry her out. She won't be underfoot anymore."

Kaya's eyes flickered. Marry her out. Grady would burn this house to the ground before he let another man touch Jasmine.

"That sounds wonderful," Kaya said smoothly.

Eleanor patted her arm and turned around, calling for a maid to help her upstairs.

Kaya gripped the boxes and continued down the hallway. She turned the corner near the library.

A figure stepped out from the shadows, blocking her path.

Jasmine stood there, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her eyes were dark and venomous, completely devoid of the innocent act she played in front of Grady.

"Who gave you that mark?" Jasmine hissed, her voice trembling with rage. "Tell me the truth, Kaya. Who is it?"

Kaya stopped. She looked at the girl standing in front of her like a rabid dog guarding a stolen bone.

Kaya let out a soft, mocking laugh. She tilted her head, her eyes lazy and cold. "Didn't your brother tell you?"

The words hit Jasmine like a physical blow. Her face contorted in pure fury.

Jasmine raised her right hand and swung it hard toward Kaya's face.

Before the slap could land, Kaya took a sharp step back, her eyes cold as ice. Jasmine's hand hit empty air, the momentum throwing her completely off balance. She stumbled forward, her heels skidding awkwardly against the polished wood.

"Don't touch me," Kaya said, her voice low and dangerous, carrying a quiet authority she had never shown before. "Stop playing these pathetic games. You are boring me."

"Let her go!"

A furious roar echoed down the hallway.

Kaya looked up. Grady was marching toward them, his face dark with rage, his fists clenched at his sides.

Kaya didn't move toward Jasmine. She simply stood her ground and deliberately wiped her fingertips on the side of her skirt, as if the very air around the girl was filthy.

The moment Grady appeared, Jasmine threw herself backward. She crashed onto the hardwood floor, clutching her wrist and bursting into loud, hysterical sobs.

"Grady!" Jasmine wailed. "She attacked me! She's crazy!"

Grady rushed forward and dropped to his knees. He pulled Jasmine behind his back, shielding her with his body. He glared up at Kaya, his eyes blazing with disgust.

"Have you lost your mind?" Grady snarled. "You act like a madwoman!"

Kaya looked down at him. She saw the man she had loved for two years kneeling on the floor, defending the woman he was sleeping with, calling his wife crazy.

She didn't feel the urge to explain. She didn't care what he thought anymore.

"If you think I'm crazy," Kaya said, her voice eerily calm, "then why don't you let me leave?"

Grady's jaw locked. The coldness in her eyes stung his pride. She wasn't fighting for him. She was looking at him like he was garbage.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number.

"Gus," Grady barked into the phone. "Bring the car to the front door. Now."

He hung up and pointed a finger at Kaya. "You are going back to the Tribeca penthouse tonight. Alone. You need to sit in that empty apartment and think about how you treat my family."

He thought it was a punishment. He thought isolating her would break her.

"I'm staying here to take care of Jasmine," Grady added, his voice cruel.

"Perfect," Kaya said.

She didn't argue. She didn't look back. She simply turned on her heel and walked toward the front doors.

Grady watched her walk away. His chest felt tight. He expected her to beg to stay. Her immediate compliance felt like a slap to the face.

Kaya pushed open the heavy oak front doors. The cool night air hit her face.

Gus McCoy, the private driver, was already standing by the black Maybach, holding the rear door open.

Kaya slid into the plush leather seat. The door closed with a solid thud, shutting out the Maddox estate completely.

"Tribeca, Gus," Kaya said. She leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.

The Maybach glided through the neon-lit streets of Manhattan and pulled up to the curb of the luxury high-rise in Tribeca.

Kaya stepped out of the car and walked into the grand lobby. She swiped her keycard and stepped into the private elevator that serviced only the penthouse.

The doors opened directly into the massive, open-concept living space. The apartment was dead silent.

Kaya dropped her handbag onto the marble console table in the entryway. She kicked off her high heels, letting them fall haphazardly onto the rug. She walked barefoot across the cold hardwood floor, relishing the physical sensation of freedom.

She walked straight into the master bathroom and turned the silver handles of the soaking tub. Steam quickly filled the room.

Thirty minutes later, Kaya emerged wearing a loose, black silk robe. Her skin was flushed from the heat, the tension of the long island estate scrubbed away.

She walked to the kitchen island, poured herself a generous glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, and carried it to the living room.

Kaya sat down on the plush white sofa facing the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the glittering Manhattan skyline. She picked up her tablet from the coffee table, unlocked it, and opened the PDF file of her prenuptial agreement.

She was deep into reading the asset division clauses when the electronic keypad at the front door beeped.

Kaya didn't look up. She quickly swiped the screen, switching the app from the legal document to a digital fashion magazine.

The heavy front door opened. A gust of wind blew in, followed by Grady.

He shrugged off his suit jacket and tossed it onto a chair. He walked into the living room, his eyes immediately locking onto Kaya.

He had expected to find her crying in bed. He expected her to demand why he came back.

Instead, she was lounging on the sofa, sipping wine, scrolling through a magazine. She didn't even acknowledge his presence.

Grady pulled at his tie, loosening the knot. He walked over and stood between her and the window.

"I came back to make sure you're reflecting on your behavior," Grady said. His tone was arrogant, laced with the expectation of gratitude. "Don't think sending you here means you're free. I'm still your husband."

Kaya didn't look up from the screen. She lazily swiped to the next page of dresses.

"Oh," she murmured.

The utter indifference in her voice made Grady's jaw clench. A surge of irrational anger flared in his chest. He reached out to snatch the tablet from her hands.

Before his fingers could touch the metal casing, his phone erupted in a loud, frantic ringtone from his pocket.

Grady froze. He pulled the phone out. The screen flashed Jasmine's name.

He answered it. "Yue?"

A piercing scream blasted through the phone speaker, so loud Kaya could hear it clearly from the sofa. The sound of glass shattering followed.

"Grady!" Jasmine sobbed hysterically. "Grandmother froze my black card! She said if I don't go to the dinner with that banker tomorrow, she's going to cut me off completely!"

"Yue, calm down-"

"I won't do it! I won't let another man touch me!" Jasmine shrieked. "If you don't come back right now and stop her, I'm going to open the balcony doors and jump!"

All the blood drained from Grady's face. His eyes widened in absolute terror. His fingers gripped the phone so hard his knuckles popped.

"Don't move! Do you hear me? Do not go near the balcony!" Grady yelled, his voice cracking with panic. "I'm coming right now!"

He shoved the phone into his pocket and looked wildly at Kaya.

He was breathing hard. He looked guilty, panicked, and desperate. He waited for Kaya to stand up. He waited for her to scream at him for leaving her again to run to his sister. He needed her jealousy to validate his ego.

Kaya slowly lifted her head. She looked at his panicked face.

She took a slow, deliberate sip of her red wine. She lowered the glass and offered him a perfectly polite, completely empty smile.

"Drive safe," Kaya said softly. "The roads are slippery at night."

Grady felt like he had just been punched in the stomach. The air rushed out of his lungs.

Her extreme understanding felt like a massive, impenetrable wall slamming down between them. She wasn't fighting him because she didn't care if he left.

He stood frozen for three seconds, his mind spinning. But the threat of Jasmine jumping off a balcony overrode his confusion.

Grady spun around and sprinted for the elevator.

The moment the metal doors slid shut, the polite smile vanished from Kaya's face. Her features settled into a mask of pure, cold resolve.

She downed the rest of the wine in one gulp and slammed the glass onto the table.

She picked up her tablet, switched back to her email, and clicked "Confirm" on the appointment with Genevieve Atherton.

The morning sun sliced through the blinds of the master bedroom, casting sharp lines of light across the floor.

Kaya stood in front of her full-length mirror. She had chosen a tailored, beige crepe suit that fit her like armor. She applied a coat of deep, matte red lipstick. It was a color Grady hated. He said it made her look too aggressive.

Today, she wanted to look aggressive.

She packed a black leather briefcase with copies of her financial records, the prenuptial agreement, and a timeline of Grady's assets.

Kaya left the apartment and hailed a yellow cab. She watched the city blur past the window until the car pulled up to a towering glass skyscraper on Fifth Avenue.

She walked into the marble lobby, rode the express elevator to the 45th floor, and stepped into the sleek, modern reception area of Genevieve Atherton's law firm.

"Kaya Harper," she told the receptionist, using her maiden name.

A few minutes later, she was sitting in a glass-walled conference room. Genevieve Atherton, a sharp-featured woman in her fifties, walked in.

For the next hour, Kaya laid out her life on the table. She spoke with clinical detachment. She detailed her goal: a swift, quiet divorce, exploiting a specific loophole in the prenuptial agreement regarding marital neglect.

Genevieve looked impressed. "You are remarkably prepared, Ms. Harper. I will draft the initial intent documents."

Kaya thanked her, gathered her papers, and walked out of the conference room.

She was looking down at her briefcase, trying to shove a thick folder inside as she walked toward the elevator bank.

She turned the corner.

Kaya slammed hard into a solid wall of muscle and expensive wool.

The impact knocked the breath out of her. The folder slipped from her hands, sending a dozen white papers fluttering to the polished floor.

"I'm so sorry," Kaya gasped, immediately dropping to her knees to gather the papers.

A pair of immaculate, custom-made black Oxford shoes stepped into her line of sight.

A large, masculine hand reached down. Long, elegant fingers with prominent knuckles picked up the paper closest to his foot. The bold heading read: Notice of Intent to Dissolve Marriage.

Kaya reached out to take it. "Thank you, I-"

She looked up.

The words died in her throat.

The man standing above her was tall. Intimidatingly tall. He wore a dark, bespoke suit that screamed ruthless power. But it was his face that made Kaya's heart skip a beat.

Sharp jawline. Deep, piercing black eyes. A small, faint scar near his left eyebrow.

He looked exactly like Garrett Maddox. Grady's older brother. The boy she was supposed to marry ten years ago, before he broke off the engagement, vanished from their lives, and was never spoken of again.

Kaya stared at him, her chest tight. No. It can't be. Garrett was a rebellious, angry teenager. This man radiated the cold, calculated energy of a Wall Street predator.

The man looked down at the divorce paper in his hand. Then, his dark eyes slowly dragged up to Kaya's face. His gaze lingered on her red lips for a fraction of a second before locking onto her eyes.

He held the paper out to her.

"Careful, Miss Harper," he said. His voice was a low, magnetic rumble that vibrated in her chest.

Kaya's breath hitched. Miss Harper. Not Mrs. Maddox. Why would he call her that? It wasn't just a polite guess; the absolute certainty in his voice sent a strange shiver down her spine. The thought was fleeting, dismissed in her frantic haste to escape the overwhelming gravity of his presence.

She snatched the paper from his hand, her fingers brushing his warm skin. She stood up quickly, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"Thank you," she managed to say, her voice slightly breathless.

The elevator doors chimed and opened behind her. Kaya practically fled into the empty car. She turned around just as the doors began to close.

The man hadn't moved. He stood in the hallway, his hands in his pockets, his dark eyes tracking her every movement until the steel doors shut completely.

A senior partner of the law firm hurried down the hall and stopped beside the man. "Mr. Baird, apologies for the wait. Your boardroom is ready."

Judd Baird didn't look at the partner. He slowly rubbed the pad of his thumb against his index finger, right where he had brushed against Kaya's skin.

"Jerome," Judd said, his voice dropping to a deadly quiet tone.

His assistant stepped up behind him. "Yes, boss?"

"Find out exactly what case that woman is filing here," Judd ordered.

Jerome tapped on his tablet. "I already saw the intake screen, sir. She's consulting for a divorce from the Maddox family."

A slow, chilling smile curved the corner of Judd's mouth.

"Finally," Judd whispered.

He turned and walked toward the boardroom. His mind was already moving ten steps ahead, calculating exactly how to build an impenetrable fortress around her.