The cool, blue light of the MacBook screen illuminated Courtney's face, casting sharp shadows under her cheekbones. Jordan Stephenson hadn't come home all night. She sat at the heavy mahogany desk in her study, her expression as cold and unforgiving as the city skyline outside her window.
With a few clicks, she closed the hidden, encrypted folder. It contained six years of meticulously organized evidence: hotel receipts billed to offshore accounts, flight manifests, and grainy but undeniable photos from a private investigator she'd hired two years ago and then lost the nerve to use. A digital monument to a dead marriage.
Five years have passed. After Lillian Burton's accident all those years ago, Jordan blamed Courtney for her death. Though he hated her deeply, he still married her.
She endured it all willingly, trapped in the Stephenson household for five years. Now, it is time for her to leave.
Just as she was about to shut down her laptop, her phone, lying face down on the desk, lit up. A new message. An unknown number.
Her stomach tightened, but she reached for it. It was a picture message from Arianna.
The photo was a close-up of a vintage watch locket, its delicate gold chain snapped. Courtney recognized it instantly. It was her own locket, the one she had gifted to Jordan years ago. She remembered how deeply moved he had been when she gave it to him, his eyes shining with unshed tears. Now, it was casually held in Arianna's manicured hands.
Beneath the photo was a single line of text: Oops, accidentally broke your thing.
A year ago, this would have shattered her. Tonight, it was merely pathetic. A bitter smile touched Courtney's lips. Her fingers flew across the screen as she typed a ruthless reply: Keep the trash. I'm done with both of them. She hit send, filing the exchange away in her mind as another piece of evidence. Proof of harassment.
Not long after, a notification pinged on her computer. It was an email containing a drafted divorce petition. The sender was a top-tier lawyer she had asked Hayes Rich to help her hire. The legal team had already finalized the strategy exactly as she had requested.
The lawyer's attached message was clear and professional: "Mrs. Stephenson, as we discussed, given the prenuptial agreement you signed with Jordan, the assets you are entitled to are extremely limited. However, I will do everything in my power to fight for the property you requested—The Willows."
Courtney murmured a soft word of thanks to the empty room, her eyes dropping to the divorce petition on the screen. The Willows was the only thing she had asked for.
The sprawling estate had originally belonged to the Miller family. After her family's sudden downfall, the house had been severely damaged in a devastating fire. Later, she and Jordan had bought it back and renovated it together. It held the only surviving memories of her youth.
She printed the documents, the rhythmic whir of the printer the only sound in the quiet study. When it was finished, she carefully gathered the pages, preparing to put the divorce petition away along with her diamond wedding ring.
As she opened the desk drawer to store them, her peripheral vision caught a glimpse of an old photograph tucked in the corner.
She pulled it out. It was a picture of her and Jordan from the past. In the photo, the man's features were soft, his eyes filled with a gentle, loving smile as he looked at her. The light and shadows surrounding them felt exceptionally warm and dazzling.
But now, looking at the cold reality of the documents before her, she knew the truth. Her marriage to Jordan Stephenson was already shattered beyond repair, never to return to the way it once was.
