Chapter 2

Violette's POV

Leon froze mid-motion as he leaned toward me.

I slipped the cigarette between my lips, ignoring whatever emotion flickered in his eyes, and pulled a card from my bag.

"There's a million in this account. Consider it severance. From now on, don't contact me."

I held it out between two fingers.

He didn't take it.

The next second, he yanked me back and pinned me to the bed, looming over me like a wall, his dark brown eyes heavy as they bore into mine.

"Say that again."

I'd never seen him this angry before.

I met his gaze.

"I said we're done. You don't understand English?"

"So you're just going to use me and throw me away?"

His weight made it hard to breathe, but I kept my expression light, casual—like some seasoned player in a game I'd mastered long ago.

"This was always a transaction, Leon. Or did you forget?"

His pupils contracted sharply.

I knew that had hit a nerve.

Three years, and I'd never said anything that harsh.

But I had to.

I'd already decided to divorce William.

And knowing William's personality, he'd use every resource at his disposal to dig into my background.

If he found evidence I'd been keeping a man during our marriage, the property division under Oakland's matrimonial law would become a nightmare.

I couldn't risk it.

"Transaction?" Leon gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Three years, Violette. In three years, didn't you feel anything else? Anything at all?"

I curved my lips and traced my fingers from his jaw down to his throat.

"Let's not get sentimental. It's bad for business."

I exhaled a stream of smoke.

"Be good. Take the money. Let's end this cleanly."

His jaw clenched, his brow pressed low.

Honestly, I was a little scared. But what bothered me more was why he wouldn't take the card.

Even a million should mean something to him. So—was it not enough?

I laughed inwardly. Greedy bastard.

But fine.

Problems that could be solved with money were never really problems.

I pushed him off, fished my car keys from my bag, and tossed them to him.

"Aston Martin. Bought it last year, barely drove it—under five thousand kilometers. It's yours. I'll have my assistant handle the paperwork."

Leon glanced at the keys, then laughed.

It was the kind of laugh that made it seem like he found all of this beneath him.

I frowned, unsure where his confidence came from.

But I didn't care enough to figure it out. I got out of bed and started getting dressed. Before leaving, I looked back at him one last time.

He hadn't moved. He just stared at me, clutching the card and keys so tightly his knuckles had gone white.

A shame, really.

Leon had been the most compatible man I'd ever been with. That kind of chemistry—walking away from it wasn't easy. I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt.

But that's all it was. A small hurt.

I opened the door and left. Outside the apartment, I dialed my assistant.

"Emily, it's me."

"Miss Morrison, it's late. Is something wrong?"

"I need you to compile every financial transaction, joint investment, and equity structure between the Morrison and Grant families over the past three years. Tonight. The more detailed, the better."

"Miss, are you—"

"And contact Brian the lawyer." I didn't answer her question, keeping my tone steady. "Also, if William tries to access the company finances, deny him. Across the board."

I hung up and hailed a cab.

I'd married into the Grant family at twenty-two. I'd held things together for them for three years.

So I wasn't leaving without what was mine.

I blinked hard, forcing back the sting in my eyes.

The Violette Morrison who used to chase after William Grant died three years ago.

Now, I was going to take back everything that belonged to me.

When I got back to the Grant estate and opened the front door, I froze.

The living room was piled with my belongings.

A bad feeling settled in my chest. I rushed upstairs to the master bedroom. Sure enough, everything of mine had been cleared out.

Even the photo of me with my parents, the one I kept on my nightstand, had been replaced with a selfie of Isabel and William.

I stared at that photo, feeling all the blood in my body surge to my head.

"You're back?"

William emerged from the study, arms crossed, leaning against the wall like this was all perfectly normal.

"Isabel isn't feeling well. She didn't eat dinner. Go make her something in the kitchen."

"She can't have anything cold. Go light on the salt. She doesn't like onions either. Keep that in mind."

My fists clenched so tightly my nails bit into my palms.

This woman had taken over my room, and now I was supposed to cook for her?

I almost laughed.

"Why should I?"

"Isabel is pregnant." William's face darkened. "It's just making a meal. You're home doing nothing anyway. I'm giving you something useful to do."

I took two sharp breaths and threw the divorce papers I'd already prepared straight at him.

"Well, too bad. You don't have the authority to order me around anymore."

William frowned. When he saw what was written on the document, his expression shifted from shock to fury.

"Violette!"

His chest heaved. "You think you can use this to force Isabel out? You think divorce is some kind of threat to me?"

He stepped closer, his eyes full of disgust.

"Let me tell you something—even without Isabel, I could never love you. Do you remember how pathetic you were back then? Like a dog, following me around, impossible to shake off."

"You think you're going to walk away with Grant family assets? Let me remind you—if it weren't for the Grant family taking you in all these years, you'd be—"

Slap.

I struck him across the face, my whole body trembling with rage.

William clearly hadn't expected me to hit him. He stood there, stunned.

Then his expression twisted.

"Fuck—you're dead."

His arm tensed as he raised his hand to strike back.

I instinctively closed my eyes—

And then a sharp, shrill voice cut through the air.

"Stop!"