Corinne POV:

The sun rose.

I hadn't slept, but my mind was sharp, unnaturally clear.

I placed the signed divorce agreement into a simple manila envelope, leaving it unsealed.

Before sealing it, I photographed every signed page for my own record, then made a second, unsealed copy.

I packed a small carry-on, taking only a few of my own outfits, my laptop, and my personal effects.

The closet full of designer gowns, I left untouched.

I sent a text to my lawyer.

"I signed. I'm sending the original to you by courier today. File it with the court immediately. I'm leaving a notice copy with the housekeeper for Blake — he'll have it, but I want it filed regardless."

I walked to the living room.

Lily was still asleep.

I pushed her door open a crack and stood there for a long time, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

She was smiling in her sleep, probably dreaming of her "family dinner."

For a second a flash came — Lily's first steps right here on this rug, tumbling into my arms, Blake coming home from a home game win, still in his half-gear, smelling like ice and sweat, lifting her up so high she squealed.

I thought I had the happiest family.

The star husband, the sweet daughter, the safe home.

It was all fake.

A pang of pain shot through me, but I knew I couldn't turn back.

I closed the door softly.

Mrs. Hayes, the housekeeper, was already in the kitchen.

She'd worked for the Carlisle family for decades, had watched Blake grow up, and had watched me marry into this life.

"Good morning, Mrs. Carlisle. Shall I prepare breakfast for you?" she asked, her voice respectfully neutral.

"No, thank you, Mrs. Hayes." I handed her the copy."Please make sure Blake gets this personally. It's important."

She took it, her expression clouded with a slight confusion as she glanced from the envelope to the suitcase at my feet. "Of course. Are you... going somewhere?"

"I have some business back in Boston," I said calmly, offering no further explanation. "I'll be there for a while."

Mrs. Hayes was a discreet woman. She didn't press. "Very good, ma'am. I'll let Mr. Carlisle know. Have a safe trip."

I took one last look at the place I had called "home" for five years.

Then, without a shred of regret, I turned and walked out the door.

As the elevator descended, I caught my reflection in the mirrored walls.

I looked pale, but for the first time in a long time, I felt light.

I took a cab to the airport and bought a ticket for the first flight to Boston.

As the plane lifted off, I watched the New York skyline shrink until it was just a hazy line on the horizon.

Goodbye, Mrs. Carlisle.

Blake POV:

I didn't get home until three in the morning.

A few drinks with Dayna and some team sponsors.

My head was throbbing.

The apartment was dark.

Corinne was probably asleep.

I didn't think much of it, heading straight for the guest room I'd been sleeping in for the past year.

The next morning, my agent woke me with a call, nagging me about a commercial appearance.

I hung up on him, annoyed.

I walked out of the room to find Mrs. Hayes tidying the living room.

"Good morning, sir."

"Morning." I rubbed my temples. "Where's Corinne?"

"Mrs. Carlisle left for Boston. She said she had business and would be there for a while," Mrs. Hayes reported. Then she handed me a manila envelope. "She asked me to give this to you personally."

I took the envelope.

It was thin, weightless.

I figured it was a shopping list or some household bill she wanted me to look at.

Just as I was about to open it, my phone rang.

It was Dayna.

Her voice was sweet, a little breathy from being on air prep.

"Blake, are you awake? Thanks again for last night. Lily was perfect. Though TMZ already got us. 'Family dinner with rumored flame' — they loved that shot of you cutting steak for her."

"It was just dinner."

"I know," she laughed, low. "But I have to go on in ten minutes and break down your PK. My producer wants me to say you looked soft last game because you were distracted. Were you distracted, Captain?"

"My PK wasn't soft."

"No? Shepherd's line is going to overload your right side in Boston, you know that. You were thinking about something else on the ice last game, not just the zone exit."

Her tone was all professional, but the words were flirty, intimate.

Like we had a secret.

"Don't worry, I'll tell them you were saving all your intensity for where it counts. You always are. But don't forget — you have afternoon training. You're not going to miss it, are you?"

"Of course not. I'll be there."

My attention had completely shifted from the envelope.

I tossed it onto the console table by the door.

"I'll be at afternoon training on time."

"I know you will," she said, soft. "See you at film."

We hung up.

My heart was pounding, still thick with the haze of last night's drinks.

I barely registered the manila envelope on the console table as my eyes swept past it — my mind was already on the ice, on the afternoon practice waiting for me, on the headache I'd earn before I even stepped onto the rink.

Mrs. Hayes came over with the duster, nodding at the console. "Sir, the envelope on the table — some file to organize? Shall I file it?"

I didn't even look. "Not important. Toss it or keep it wherever, I don't care. I'm busy, no time for that now."

I grabbed my keys and rushed out.