The cold wind hit Adelia's bare shoulders the second she pushed through the heavy carved doors of the hotel ballroom. She walked across the opulent lobby, her heels clicking rhythmically against the tile.

She stepped out onto the sidewalk and raised her hand. A yellow taxi pulled over.

She gave the driver the address to the Manhattan penthouse. She leaned her head against the cold glass of the window and watched the rain streak across the city lights.

The penthouse was dead silent when she unlocked the front door. She did not turn on the main lights.

She walked straight through the massive living room and into the master bedroom's walk-in closet. The space was suffocating.

She stared at the walls lined with expensive designer clothes. Dominic had his assistant replace them every season. They were all in colors and styles Dominic preferred. None of them belonged to her. Her eyes held zero attachment.

Adelia walked to the heavy steel safe bolted to the floor. She opened it and pulled out a plain brown envelope from the very bottom shelf.

Inside was a divorce agreement she had drafted a month ago. She had been too terrified to bring it out until tonight.

She carried the envelope to the marble kitchen island. She pulled the thick stack of papers out and smoothed them flat against the cold stone.

She picked up the heavy Montblanc pen resting in the pen holder. Without a single tremor in her fingers, she signed her name on the line designated for the wife.

At eleven o'clock, the electronic lock on the front door beeped.

Dominic pushed the door open. A blast of cold air and the sharp stench of whiskey followed him inside.

He yanked at his silk tie, loosening it. He shrugged off his suit jacket and tossed it onto the leather sofa. The fabric carried the distinct, sweet scent of Carly's perfume.

He glanced coldly at Adelia standing behind the island, then looked away.

He walked wordlessly toward the crystal liquor cabinet. He reached for a bottle of scotch, completely ignoring the bloody tissue still wrapped around Adelia's hand.

Adelia took a deep breath. Her voice cut through the empty space of the living room, sharp and clear.

She called him by his full name and told him to come over and sign.

Dominic's hand stopped mid-air over the bottle. He turned his head slowly. His brow furrowed into a deep V. His eyes were heavy with irritation. He assumed she was throwing another tantrum over the incident at the banquet.

He closed the distance to the island with long, aggressive strides. His eyes dropped to the papers spread across the marble.

The words "Divorce Agreement" were printed in bold black ink at the top.

His pupils contracted violently.

A harsh, mocking laugh ripped from his throat. He reached out and pinched the corner of the document, lifting it slightly.

He asked her if she really thought playing hard to get with such a cheap trick would work on him.

Adelia did not argue. She remained perfectly still. She slid the Montblanc pen across the marble until it bumped against his knuckles.

She pointed to the final page and told him to read the terms clearly before he spoke.

Dominic snatched the papers up. Anger radiated from his body in waves. He flipped aggressively to the property division section.

His eyes scanned the bolded paragraph stating the wife voluntarily forfeited all alimony and would leave the marriage with zero assets. A flicker of sheer disbelief crossed his face, stalling his breath for a fraction of a second. That confusion was quickly consumed by a dark, terrifying flush of rage. He snapped his head up and locked his eyes onto hers. "What trick is this?" He searched her face, hunting for any sign of manipulation or bluffing.

He found nothing but dead, stagnant water.

That absolute emptiness in her eyes felt like a physical blow to his chest.

Dominic lunged forward. His large hand grabbed the collar of her blouse. He yanked her across the width of the island, pulling her face inches from his.

He ground his teeth together and demanded to know if she had already found another man to fund her life.

Adelia was forced onto her toes. The fabric of her collar dug painfully into her windpipe. She stared into the face of the man she had loved for years. He looked like a complete stranger. A wave of bone-deep exhaustion washed over her.

She spoke in a flat, quiet voice.

She said she had endured enough over the last three years. Since he didn't love her, she was giving the position to Carly. She asked if that wasn't exactly what he wanted.

Dominic reacted like a wild animal that had been stabbed. He released her collar so violently she stumbled backward.

Adelia grabbed the edge of the marble island to keep from falling.

Dominic's eyes were pitch black and murderous. He grabbed the Montblanc pen. His grip was so tight his knuckles turned bone-white. He snarled at her. "You think you can just sign a piece of paper and walk away from me? Who gave you permission to leave?"

The nib of the pen scratched violently against the thick paper. Dominic pressed down with destructive force, slashing his signature across the bottom line.

When he finished, he slammed the heavy pen down on the marble.

The impact sounded like a gunshot. Black ink splattered across the pristine white paper.

Adelia lowered her eyelashes. She carefully slid her copy of the agreement out from under his hand. She folded it with extreme care and placed it inside her purse, treating it like a priceless artifact.

Dominic watched her movements. She looked relieved.

A suffocating pressure seized his chest, as if someone had shoved a wet towel down his throat. He couldn't breathe. He kicked the heavy barstool next to him. It crashed to the floor.

He pointed a shaking finger at the front door. He ordered her to get the hell out of his house right now. He told her not to stay one more second.

Adelia shook her head slowly.

She said there was a torrential downpour outside. She told him she would pack her personal belongings in the morning and leave. She assured him she would not take a single thread that belonged to him.

She ignored the homicidal glare burning into her back. She turned and walked toward the guest room down the hall. Her spine was perfectly straight.

She stepped inside the dark room and shut the door.

The heavy wood blocked out the sound of Dominic violently smashing a crystal glass against the wall.

Adelia leaned her back against the door panel. Her legs gave out. She slid down the wood until she hit the floor, pulling her knees to her chest in the dark.

Adelia spent the night curled into a tight ball on the small sofa in the guest room. She didn't sleep.

When the gray morning light filtered through the blinds, she pushed herself up. Her joints ached. She walked out of the guest room and into the main living area.

Fed Cardenas, Dominic's executive assistant, was standing by the kitchen island holding a tablet.

Fed looked at her with a completely blank expression. He informed her that Dominic required her to fulfill her duties as his wife one last time. She was to attend the family lunch at the Long Island estate. If she refused, Dominic would not release her passport.

Adelia needed her identification to survive. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat and nodded.

She went back to the room, changed into a conservative beige suit, and went downstairs.

She slid into the backseat of the waiting Rolls-Royce. Dominic was already sitting on the opposite side. His eyes were closed. He didn't acknowledge her presence.

The physical distance between them on the leather seat was wide enough to fit a third person. The air conditioning blew freezing air over her arms.

The car pulled up to the massive, castle-like architecture of the Long Island estate. A butler in a uniform opened the door and held a black umbrella over them.

They walked into the grand dining room. The elders of the Thompson family were already seated along the massive mahogany table.

The lunch was a suffocating execution.

The older relatives did not bother to lower their voices. They openly mocked Adelia's Appalachian background. They brought up the three-year-old rumors, calling her a thief and a manipulator.

An aunt sitting across the table deliberately asked about Carly. She loudly proclaimed that Carly was the only woman with the grace and pedigree to sit beside the head of the family.

Adelia kept her eyes glued to her plate. She methodically cut her steak into tiny pieces, not taking a single bite.

Dominic sat at the head of the table. He slowly swirled the red wine in his glass. He watched his family tear her apart and did absolutely nothing to stop it.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and began typing a message.

Adelia caught a glimpse of the screen out of the corner of her eye. The name "Carly" was at the top of the text thread.

Her stomach violently rejected the situation. She placed her knife and fork down on the porcelain plate.

The agonizing lunch finally ended.

As they walked out to the grand foyer, the sky outside turned pitch black. A massive thunderstorm broke over the island. Rain lashed against the windows, and thunder shook the floorboards.

Adelia followed Dominic out to the covered portico. The driver had pulled the black Maybach up to the steps.

A bodyguard opened a massive umbrella. Dominic walked down the steps toward the open car door. Adelia stepped forward to follow him back to Manhattan.

Her fingers brushed the cold metal of the door handle.

Dominic suddenly stopped. He turned his head and looked at her. His eyes were devoid of any human warmth.

He spoke over the sound of the crashing rain.

He said since she had signed the papers, she no longer had the right to sit in his car. He told her to figure out how to roll back to the city herself.

Adelia froze. A gust of wind blew a sheet of freezing rain under the portico, instantly soaking the hem of her beige skirt. She stared at him, unable to process the sheer cruelty of the act.

Dominic slid into the leather seat. The tinted window rolled up smoothly, completely severing her from the dry, warm interior.

The Maybach accelerated into the storm. The heavy tires hit a deep puddle, sending a wave of freezing, muddy water splashing over Adelia's legs.

The estate butler stepped out onto the portico. He coldly informed her that the estate was closing to visitors. He physically corralled her down the steps and out the front gates.

The heavy iron gates clanged shut behind her, locking her out.

The estate was located in an exclusive, isolated area halfway up a mountain. Taxis did not come here. Adelia pulled out her phone, but the storm had killed the cellular signal. The screen showed zero bars.

She had no choice. She started walking down the steep, winding asphalt road into the teeth of the storm.

The rain blinded her. The wind pushed her sideways.

Suddenly, her foot slipped on the slick pavement. The thin heel of her shoe jammed into a crack in the asphalt and snapped clean off. Her ankle twisted violently.

A sharp, shooting pain traveled up her leg.

The broken heel felt like a cruel mockery of her broken marriage. With a sudden surge of self-destructive anger, Adelia bent down, unbuckled both shoes, and threw them violently into the wet grass. She continued walking barefoot on the rough, jagged asphalt. Small stones and broken twigs sliced into the soles of her feet. With every step, she left a faint smear of blood on the road, which the heavy rain instantly washed away.

The sky grew darker. The temperature plummeted. Adelia's clothes were plastered to her skin. Her lips turned a bruised purple. Her entire body shook uncontrollably with violent shivers, but she forced her bleeding feet to keep moving.

She finally reached the main highway at the bottom of the mountain.

A rusted, beat-up pickup truck hauling crates of produce slowed down. The driver, an older man with a weathered face, rolled down the window and yelled for her to get in.

Adelia climbed into the back seat. The cabin smelled strongly of raw fish and damp earth. She wrapped herself in a scratchy wool blanket the driver handed her. She stared out the window, her eyes completely hollow.

Hours later, the truck pulled up to the curb outside the Manhattan penthouse building. Adelia thanked the driver quietly and stepped out.

She dragged her stiff, freezing body through the opulent lobby, ignoring the stares of the concierge.

She rode the elevator up, entered the apartment, and walked straight past the mess in the living room.

She went into the guest room and pulled a cheap, battered suitcase from under the bed. She shoved her few old, pre-marriage clothes inside.

She walked to the entryway. She took the heavy metal keycard that granted access to the penthouse-the symbol of the Thompson family matriarch-and placed it perfectly straight on the shoe cabinet.

Adelia grabbed the handle of her broken suitcase. She walked out the door and pressed the button for the lobby, permanently severing her ties to her three-year prison.

The elevator let out a soft ping as it reached the ground floor.

Adelia dragged her cheap suitcase out of the steel box. She walked across the expansive marble lobby toward the revolving glass doors leading to the street.

The automatic doors slid open.

Dominic walked in. He was returning from a business dinner, bringing a rush of damp, freezing air with him.

His eyes immediately locked onto the battered suitcase trailing behind Adelia. His pupils contracted sharply. His expensive leather shoes stopped dead on the marble floor.

Panic flared in his chest, but he instantly buried it under a thick layer of arrogance. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his tailored trousers and stepped directly into her path, blocking her exit.

He looked down at her dripping hair and her pale, shivering body. His lips curled into a sneer.

He asked her what kind of childish runaway game she was playing, dragging garbage through his lobby in the middle of the night.

Adelia did not lower her head in submission the way she used to. She tilted her chin up and looked directly into his dark eyes.

Her throat was raw. Her voice was raspy, but the tone was absolute steel. She told him to move.

Her blatant disregard ignited Dominic's temper. He pulled his hand from his pocket and slammed it down on the plastic handle of her suitcase. The veins on the back of his hand bulged against his skin.

He demanded to know what the hell she thought she was doing.

Adelia let go of the handle. She took one step back.

She looked at the man she had loved since she was a teenager. She asked him a simple question. She asked why the love he had for her three years ago had vanished without a trace.

Dominic's expression darkened instantly. A vicious shadow crossed his face.

He let out a cold laugh. He said it vanished because he realized she was a venomous snake who would do anything out of jealousy.

Adelia took a slow, deep breath. She didn't bother defending herself against the three-year-old accusations anymore. Instead, she reached for the deepest, sharpest thorn buried in her chest.

She maintained eye contact. She enunciated every single word.

She told him she had seen the hidden financial charges herself. She knew that for the past three years, he had been funding a private residence at The Pines estate.

The moment the words "The Pines" left her mouth, the temperature around Dominic plummeted to absolute zero.

His eyes turned feral. It was as if she had reached into his chest and squeezed his bare heart.

He lunged forward. His large hand clamped around her slender jaw. His fingers dug into her skin with terrifying force, pressing hard enough to bruise the bone.

He leaned in, his face inches from hers. He ground his teeth together, his breath hot against her cold skin.

He warned her never to speak that name again. He told her she had absolutely no right to investigate The Pines.

Adelia was forced to tilt her head back. The pain in her jaw was blinding, but she didn't struggle. She just looked at him with the profound sadness of looking at a stranger.

She asked him why, if he already had someone else, he didn't just let her go. She asked why he chose to torture her with cold violence for three years, making her wish she was dead.

Dominic stared into the dead, empty void of her eyes. A sharp, inexplicable pain pierced his own chest. But his defense mechanism was cruelty.

He tightened his grip slightly. His voice was devoid of mercy.

He said she owed a debt to Carly's sister. He said a vicious woman like her deserved to rot in a loveless marriage.

Those words acted like a guillotine, cleanly severing the very last, microscopic thread of hope Adelia had kept hidden in her heart.

The rims of her eyes burned red, but she forced the moisture back down.

She violently twisted her head and shoved his arm away. As she broke his grip, her fingernails scraped hard across the back of his hand.

Four bloody scratches welled up instantly on his skin.

Dominic looked down at the blood on his hand. He froze. He had never expected her to fight back with physical violence. She had always been so compliant.

Adelia grabbed the handle of her suitcase again. Her voice was colder than the rain outside.

She said that as of today, she didn't owe him a damn thing.

She bypassed his towering frame. She didn't hesitate as she pushed through the revolving doors and stepped out into the freezing New York drizzle.

The lobby security guards stood frozen by the desk, too terrified to breathe.

Dominic stood rooted to the spot. He didn't turn around. He stared straight ahead at the reflection in the glass doors, watching her figure grow smaller and smaller in the dark.

His hands balled into tight fists at his sides. His fingernails dug so deeply into his palms they broke the skin. His suffocating pride acted like concrete, keeping his feet glued to the floor. He couldn't chase her.

Adelia's bare, bloody feet stepped into freezing puddles on the sidewalk. Every step sent agonizing spikes of pain up her legs, but she walked faster and faster.

A passing taxi honked its horn. Adelia waved her hand frantically. The car pulled over.

She lifted the heavy suitcase and shoved it into the trunk, her muscles screaming in protest.

She climbed into the back seat. The moment the door slammed shut, her entire body went limp. She collapsed against the cheap vinyl seat and closed her eyes.

Through the glass doors of the lobby, Dominic watched the taillights of the taxi disappear into the rain.

He suddenly spun around and drove his bleeding fist directly into the solid marble pillar next to him.

The skin on his knuckles split open, smearing bright red blood across the white stone.