His Unseen Heir, Her Escape
The gallery lights were too bright, the applause too loud. I stood in front of my charcoal series—'Fractures,' they were called—as strangers praised the depth, the emotion, the genius behind the lines.
And then I saw it. A phone screen across the room, flashing live news: Cameron, my husband, arm wrapped around Kacie Chavez, shielding her from reporters like she was fragile glass. The headline read: 'Oneill Tech to Acquire Nexora—CEO's New Partner Steps Into Spotlight.'
My phone buzzed. A text from him: 'Kacie needs me. You'll be fine.'
Brenton appeared, fury in his eyes. 'Don't let them win, Aryana. Not tonight.'
I smiled, shook hands, answered questions about my work—the work that built his empire.
But inside, I was already gone.
Back in the office, I called my lawyer. 'Draw up the divorce papers. And make the signature page look like an IP release.'
He'd never read it. He never did.
Now, I just had to get him to sign it.