The office of Elbert Collins occupied the entire top floor of the Collins Tower. It was a space designed to intimidate, filled with dark mahogany, leather, and the scent of aged scotch.

Gaston walked in, bypassing the three secretaries who jumped to their feet. He threw the marriage certificate onto his father's massive desk.

Elbert Collins, a man who looked like a lion in the twilight of its life-scarred, grey, but still dangerous-picked up the paper. He adjusted his spectacles.

"Jocelyn Wolfe?" Elbert read the name. He looked up, his eyes narrowing. "The girl from the Douglas mess? The one in the papers this morning?"

"She's the one," Gaston confirmed. He walked to the crystal decanter and poured himself a drink. He didn't offer one to his father.

"She thinks I'm Babe Vincent," Gaston added, taking a sip. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Elbert laughed. It was a dry, rasping sound, like sandpaper on wood. "You married her under a pseudonym? Is that legal?"

"I used my legal name," Gaston said. "Gaston Collins. She just... didn't read the fine print. She thinks 'Collins' is a common name. She doesn't realize which Collins."

"Douglas is going to lose his mind," Elbert mused, placing the certificate down. "Good. We need his market share. If he's distracted by a personal scandal, it makes the acquisition easier."

"Protect her," Gaston ordered. His voice dropped, losing its amusement. "No leaks about my identity until I say so. I want the legal team ready to bury anyone who bothers her."

Elbert nodded slowly. He looked at his son with a newfound respect. "Welcome to the family, Mrs. Collins."

Across the city, Jocelyn was dragging her life out of the penthouse.

Mrs. Higgins, the housekeeper, entered the hallway just as Jocelyn was hauling the second suitcase toward the door.

"Ms. Wolfe?" Mrs. Higgins asked, her hands clutching a duster.

Jocelyn turned. "I'm leaving, Mrs. Higgins. For good."

The older woman's face softened. She looked relieved. "He doesn't deserve you, dear. I've been saying it to my husband for years."

"If he asks," Jocelyn said, pausing. "Tell him... actually, tell him nothing."

"My lips are sealed," Mrs. Higgins promised.

Jocelyn stepped into the elevator. The doors slid shut, cutting off the view of the apartment where she had wasted two years of her life.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Bank Alert: Credit Line Activated. Sponsored by Collins Capital Partners. Balance Available: $12,000,000.

Jocelyn stared at the number. She saw the word 'Collins' but dismissed it as the name of a generic financial firm her mother's lawyers used. The amount was what mattered. A wave of relief washed over her, so intense her knees almost buckled. She had resources now. She wasn't just a discarded girlfriend; she was a woman with capital.

She called a moving service to pick up the rest of her boxes and take them to storage.

Downstairs, she hailed a cab.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

Jocelyn hesitated. The Hamptons house wouldn't be ready until tomorrow. The staff needed to open it up. She couldn't go there tonight.

"The Plaza Hotel," Jocelyn said. "Fifth Avenue."

She had money now. She could afford a suite.

As the yellow cab pulled away from the curb, merging into the traffic, a black SUV with tinted windows pulled up to the entrance of the building.

The door opened, and two large men in suits stepped out. Kieran's security detail. They were returning early to sweep the apartment before his arrival.

They missed her by thirty seconds.

Jocelyn watched the building recede through the rear window. She was homeless, technically. But for the first time, she felt free.

Two days later.

The breakroom at Douglas Tech was a sterile environment of brushed steel and aggressive fluorescent lighting. Jocelyn stood in front of the coffee machine, staring blankly at the slow drip of the dark liquid.

She shouldn't be here. She had the money. She had the husband. She had the house.

But she also had a sense of professional duty that bordered on masochism. And Kieran still had the physical keys to the safe where the Henderson merger files were kept. She couldn't just email them. She had to retrieve them and hand them over to close the loop.

Two junior analysts walked in, laughing. They didn't see her tucked in the corner by the machine.

"Did you see Kieran's post this morning?" one asked, grabbing a water bottle. "Aspen looks like a queen. That dress cost more than my tuition."

"What about Jocelyn?" the other guy snickered. "Isn't she still his EA? That's got to be awkward."

"She's practically furniture," the first one said dismissively. "He was never going to marry her. She's just... there. Waiting."

Jocelyn gripped her mug. The ceramic bit into her palm. Furniture.

She turned to leave, needing to get out before she screamed. But the machine sputters. It hissed violently, spitting a jet of scalding steam and hot water sideways.

"Ah!" Jocelyn gasped, dropping the mug.

The hot liquid splashed over her hand. The pain was instant and searing.

The mug shattered on the floor.

The two analysts jumped, spinning around. Their faces went pale when they saw her.

"Ms. Wolfe! We didn't..."

Jocelyn ignored them. She rushed to the sink, shoving her hand under the cold tap. The skin was already turning an angry, blistering red.

Mandy, the receptionist and the only person in this building Jocelyn tolerated, rushed in. "Jocelyn! Oh my god, I heard the crash."

Mandy saw the hand and hissed in sympathy. She grabbed paper towels, wetting them. "You need to go to urgent care. That looks like a second-degree burn."

"I'm fine," Jocelyn said through gritted teeth. The water helped, but the throbbing was deep. "I need to give you something."

She pulled a crisp white envelope from her blazer pocket with her good hand.

"Give this to HR. Today."

Mandy took it. She recognized the weight of the paper. "You're quitting? Before the Gala? Kieran will flip."

"Especially before the Gala," Jocelyn said.

"Where is Jocelyn?" Kieran's voice boomed from the hallway.

Jocelyn froze. The sound of his voice triggered a physical recoil in her gut. She wasn't ready. Not yet.

She ducked into the emergency stairwell just as Kieran strode past the breakroom door.

Through the crack in the door, she saw him. He looked immaculate. Tanned, rested, wearing a suit that cost five thousand dollars. He didn't look like a man who had just destroyed someone's life.

"I... I haven't seen her, sir," she heard an intern stammer.

"Tell her to bring the merger files to the Gala tonight," Kieran barked, not breaking stride. "Personally. I don't want a courier losing them."

Jocelyn leaned back against the cold concrete wall of the stairwell. She closed her eyes.

He wanted her to deliver the files to the party where he was debuting his new fiancée. It was a power move. A final humiliation.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

It was a text from 'Gaston'.

Gaston: Dinner tonight? I know a place that isn't on the radar.

Jocelyn looked at the screen. She wanted to say yes. She wanted to hide in a dark booth with the mysterious man who signed contracts without reading them.

But she had to finish this.

Jocelyn: Busy. Work emergency.

She didn't want him to know she was still running errands for her ex. It was pathetic.

She looked at her hand. A large blister was forming across her knuckles. It throbbed in time with her heartbeat.

She pushed off the wall. She would go to the Gala. She would give him the files. And then she would never see him again.

The Pierre Hotel was the epitome of old-world New York glamour. Crystal chandeliers dripped from the ceiling, casting a golden glow over the hundreds of guests sipping champagne.

Jocelyn entered through the service entrance.

She wasn't wearing a gown. She wore a simple black dress under her work blazer. Her left hand was heavily bandaged in white gauze. She clutched the thick folder of documents against her chest with her right hand.

She felt like a crow in a cage of peacocks.

She scanned the room. It didn't take long to find him.

Kieran was in the center of the ballroom, holding court. He was laughing, his head thrown back. Beside him, Aspen Schneider preened. She wore a silver gown that clung to every curve, flashing a diamond ring on her finger that caught the light like a beacon.

Jocelyn took a deep breath. Just get it over with.

She walked through the crowd. People parted for her, not out of respect, but out of confusion. She didn't belong.

"Mr. Douglas," she said when she reached him.

Kieran turned. His smile vanished instantly. His eyes raked over her outfit with disdain.

"You're late," he said coldly. "And underdressed. This is a black-tie event, Jocelyn."

"I'm not here for the party," Jocelyn said flatly. "Here are the merger files."

She extended the folder.

Kieran didn't take it. He swirled his drink, looking bored. "Put them on the table over there. I don't want to hold them."

Aspen turned then. Her eyes lit up when she saw Jocelyn. It wasn't a friendly light; it was the predatory gleam of a cat spotting a wounded mouse.

"Jocelyn! Darling!" Aspen squealed.

She lunged forward, enveloping Jocelyn in a fake, perfumed hug.

"We missed you in Paris!" Aspen coos, pulling back but keeping her hands on Jocelyn's arms. "It was magical."

Jocelyn stepped back, trying to disengage. "Hello, Aspen."

Aspen's gaze dropped to Jocelyn's bandaged hand. "Oh no, what happened? Did you hurt yourself?"

"Kitchen accident," Jocelyn muttered.

"You poor thing!" Aspen exclaimed loudly. Heads turned nearby. "Let me see."

Before Jocelyn could react, Aspen grabbed her injured hand with both of hers.

"Aspen, don't-"

Aspen smiled sweetly, looking directly into Jocelyn's eyes. And then, she squeezed.

She dug her manicured nails directly into the burn under the gauze.

Jocelyn gasped. A sharp, white-hot bolt of agony shot up her arm, blinding her for a second. A wave of nausea crashed over her, and the glittering ballroom momentarily swam out of focus. She felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead.

"Aspen, let go!" Jocelyn hissed through gritted teeth, trying to pull away.

Aspen held tight, her grip like iron. "But I'm just worried! You need to be careful, Jocelyn. You're so clumsy."

Kieran watched, sipping his drink. "Aspen is being nice, Jocelyn. Don't be rude."

The pain was unbearable. It felt like fire was eating her skin.

Jocelyn yanked her hand back violently, a reflex of pure survival.

Her elbow struck a passing waiter's tray.

Crash!

The sound of shattering glass cut through the ambient chatter like a gunshot. Champagne sprayed everywhere-over the waiter, over the floor, and over the hem of Aspen's silver dress.

The ballroom went silent. The music seemed to stop.

Aspen gasped, bringing a hand to her mouth in a perfect performance of shock. "Jocelyn! Are you drunk?"

Kieran stepped forward, his face darkening with rage.

"What is wrong with you?" he demanded, his voice echoing in the quiet room.

Jocelyn stood amidst the broken glass, clutching her throbbing hand to her chest. She looked around. Hundreds of eyes were staring at her. Judging her.

She was the villain in their story. The clumsy, bitter ex-girlfriend causing a scene.