Chapter 3

The bass pounded through Eclipse nightclub as Amelia downed her third vodka cranberry.

For the first time in four years, she felt alive.

"I can't believe you finally dumped that bastard," Jessica shouted over the music, her eyes bright with vindication. "I've been waiting years for this moment!"

Amelia's best friend had despised Damian from day one.

She'd watched him slowly crush Amelia's spirit with his cold indifference, his casual cruelty, his complete dismissal of everything she was.

"To never cooking another dinner that goes straight into the trash," Amelia raised her glass.

"To never sleeping alone in your own bed while your husband screws his ex," Jessica clinked their glasses together.

The alcohol burned, but it felt like freedom.

On the dance floor, Amelia moved like she hadn't in years.

The music flowed through her body, washing away the memory of Damian's disgusted looks, his sighs of annoyance whenever she tried to talk to him, his complete lack of interest in her as a woman.

For the first time since her wedding day, men were looking at her with desire instead of dismissal.

Three of them gravitated toward her, drawn by her confident movements and the way the club lights played across her skin.

She chose the tallest one, letting him pull her closer as the music swirled around them.

His hands were warm on her hips. Real. Present. Everything Damian had never been.

The thought hit her suddenly—she was twenty-eight and still a virgin.

Four years of marriage to a man who had never once touched her with desire. Who had spent their wedding night at the office, leaving her alone in their honeymoon suite.

"AMELIA, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?"

The roar cut through the music like a gunshot. Amelia spun to see Damian Wright pushing through the crowd, his face twisted with rage she'd never seen before.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice was deadly quiet.

"You're coming with me. Now." He grabbed her wrist hard enough to bruise.

"Who the hell are you?" The man she'd been dancing with stepped forward. "Her boyfriend?"

"Her husband!" Damian snarled.

The lie made Amelia see red. "Ex-husband. As of this afternoon."

But she was trapped between them now, each man gripping one of her arms. Damian's fist connected with her dance partner's jaw, sending him stumbling backward.

"Don't fucking touch her!" Damian hauled Amelia toward the exit.

She waited until they reached the quieter hallway before yanking free. "Have you completely lost your mind?"

"I need you to go back to the hospital. Tonight."

Amelia stared at him in disbelief. "Excuse me?"

"You need to tell the Gifted Doctor to reconsider Sophia's case. Tell him you were wrong about her condition."

"Are you insane?" Her voice rose with incredulity. "I made my professional assessment. The case doesn't warrant his expertise."

"Professional assessment?" Damian's laugh was harsh. "You're his assistant, not a doctor. You let your personal feelings cloud your judgment."

"I don't make mistakes," she said coldly. "And don't get too cocky—you can't affect me anymore!"

"You—"

Before Damian could respond, a saccharine voice cut through their argument.

"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in."

Lilian Marsh appeared like a vulture scenting carrion. Sophia's best friend, all venom and false sweetness, clearly having followed them from inside.

"I saw you on that dance floor with multiple men," Lilian purred, her eyes glittering with malice. "How shameful. Dancing like a whore while married to one of the city's most eligible bachelors."

Since the divorce wasn't public yet, most people still believed they were married.

"Poor Damian, having such a slutty wife. Tell me, how long have you been cheating on him?"

"Not everyone is as desperate as you, Lilian." Amelia's voice could have frozen fire. "Speaking of desperate—how did Sophia react when she found out about those nude photos you sent her boyfriend?"

Lilian went white. "What photos?"

"The ones you meant to send Damian but accidentally sent to me instead. Very artistic shots with captions like 'My breasts are softer than Sophia's' and 'I can please you better than she can.'"

Even Damian looked shocked, his eyes widening as he stared between the two women.

"You're lying!" Lilian shrieked.

"Am I?" Amelia pulled out her phone with deadly calm. "Should I show everyone? I kept them as evidence of your pathetic attempts to steal your best friend's man."

"Stop!" Lilian lunged forward, hand raised to slap.

Amelia caught her wrist mid-swing and delivered two sharp slaps across Lilian's face. The sound cracked through the hallway like whips.

Lilian stumbled backward, clutching her reddened cheek. "Damian! She attacked me!"

She looked at him with tears in her eyes, expecting protection, expecting him to defend her against his wife's violence.

Instead, Damian's voice was cold as winter. "Get out. Now."

"But she—"

"Do I need to call security?"

Lilian fled, her heels clicking frantically against the marble floor as she disappeared back into the club.

Amelia watched the scene with cold satisfaction.

"Good. Now this should be the last time I see you too, ex-husband. Stop stalking me."

She turned to leave, but something in Damian's chest twisted violently. The way she'd handled Lilian—confident, fierce, unafraid—it was like watching a stranger wear his wife's face.

This wasn't the quiet, submissive woman who'd tiptoed around their penthouse for four years.

His wife. Ex-wife.

The distinction felt meaningless when his blood was burning with inexplicable rage at seeing other men's hands on her body.

As Amelia walked toward the club's exit, another figure stepped into her path.

Tall, expensively dressed, radiating the kind of wealth and power that commanded attention even in a place like Eclipse.

"You've got to be kidding me,"

Damian snarled under his breath, his fists clenching as he watched yet another man approach the woman he was only now realizing he'd never truly known.