Chapter 2

Isolde's POV

That afternoon, I went back to Cove Haven to pack. It didn't take long.

I'd lived there for seven years, and nearly everything belonged to the Hale family. The jewelry was cataloged. The gowns were family assets. I didn't have the combination to the safe. Even my monthly cash allowance had to be approved by the family office.

Kieran had bought everything since the day we married. In the end, the only thing I could take was my passport.

Caspian's room was at the end of the upstairs hall. I stood outside the door for a long time. I couldn't open it.

When I was done, I stood in the middle of the bedroom and looked around. For the first time, I saw it clearly. It was a cage, beautifully polished. Everything in it was gorgeous, and none of it was mine. Someone outside this family decided what I could touch, how much I could spend, what I could wear, and who I could ask for help. Somewhere in this marriage, I had disappeared. Once I understood that, leaving wasn't a crazy idea anymore. It was something I should have done a long time ago.

Kieran came home earlier than he'd said. He was carrying a box from Mireille's with a gold-foil label on the side: Happy 3rd Birthday, Caspian. He still had his coat on. He smelled like cigars and cologne, and underneath that was a thread of Liora's black orchid perfume. His eyes passed over the suitcase in the foyer without stopping, as if it were something someone had left lying around.

"Where's Caspian?"

I didn't answer. He set the box on the console table and went straight upstairs. His footsteps stopped at the end of the hall. He opened the door I hadn't been able to open, then shut it again. When he came back down, the warmth was gone from his face.

"Liora says the family office flagged a transfer into your account from your mother." He stared at me. "Seven years without a word, and suddenly you two are close again? You took Caspian to her place, didn't you?"

"I told you this morning. He's dead."

"Isolde!" His voice spiked, and he forced it back down. "Once is a tantrum. Twice is just cruel. He's three years old. You keep wishing him dead just to make me back down?"

I looked at him, and suddenly I didn't have the strength to explain. The money had come from my mother. It had become a small plot at Westview Cemetery and a small white casket. If I told him that, he'd only hear another bargaining chip.

He took a breath and put his arm around my shoulders, ready to smooth everything over.

"I was short with you at the office. But you have to understand, Liora's with me every day. She runs my schedule, my accounts, my client dinners. Some of the old-guard partners already whisper that you've never fit into this family. When you pick a fight with her in front of my staff, you're handing them ammunition." He was calm and reasonable. "She spent all day defending you, you know. She says you're just exhausted."

He meant every word. He truly believed that the woman who had sat on the money that could have saved our son had spent the day pleading my case. He believed I'd lost perspective and was using our child as leverage.

When I didn't respond, his brow furrowed and his tone hardened. "I gave you a life where you never have to worry about anything. If you keep treating Liora like the enemy, I have to wonder whether this is really about wanting my attention. Maybe it's about wanting control." Then he softened again. "Go get some rest. I'll handle everything else."

I laughed quietly, but it stopped him mid-sentence.

I dragged the suitcase onto the bed and unzipped it. Inside were a few of my son's little sweaters, his favorite blanket, and my passport.

Kieran frowned. "What is this supposed to prove?"

I looked down at my empty hands. "You always brag that I'm completely taken care of. But the truth is, I'm leaving this marriage completely penniless. You bought everything, Kieran. I have absolutely nothing."

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it?" I laid it out for him, one thing at a time. "If I need cash, I ask Liora. If I change my schedule, I ask Liora. If I need a car outside approved hours, I ask Liora. Liora decides what I wear to a gala and which jewelry goes with it. Your housekeeper carries more cash in her purse than I'm allowed to spend. My son needed to be buried, and I couldn't pay for a plot. I had to beg someone I hadn't spoken to in seven years."

"Enough. Stop bringing that up."

He still didn't believe me. I grabbed a thick folder from the desk and threw it open in front of him. Dozens of printed forms spilled onto the surface.

I pointed at the aggressive red stamps on the pages. "Look at them. Expense requests. Reimbursement forms. Applications just to use the 'household' account." I let out a harsh, ironic laugh, tracing the signature lines at the bottom. "First, it needs a review by the family office. Then, your signature. And the final authorization? It goes to Liora. I have to submit paperwork like an intern just to buy my own son a winter coat."

Kieran went quiet. He looked at the forms, then at me. For the first time, I saw real confusion on his face, as if he were finally trying to see things from where I stood. It lasted maybe three seconds. The moment the truth brushed against his pride, he retreated right back into his own logic.

"So this is what it was about all along. Money and power."

The last flicker of hope I had went cold. He still saw all of this as two women fighting over him. He refused to see the one thing that mattered. When my son was waiting for treatment, he had chosen to believe someone else. Even now, he was still choosing her.

I let go of him, pulled the divorce papers from the folder, and held them out.

"You don't have to guess at my motives anymore. This marriage is over."