Maeve’s POV
The Dareth estate glows like a wedding cake in the distance, all lit up for Kael and Gia's engagement party. The words taste like battery acid, but after three weeks hiding in a hotel, I'm finally here for one reason: to end this.
I'm wearing the simple black dress from my Princeton days. The one I wore to my mother's funeral, because it felt kinda appropriate. Going to another funeral tonight, just this time it's my marriage getting buried.
The valet's face does something complicated when I pull up in my Uber.
"Mrs. Dareth?" Like he's seeing a ghost. "We weren't expecting—"
"I won't be long." My hands shake, taking the divorce papers from my bag.
Inside, champagne towers and string quartets frame Manhattan's elite. They pretend they don't see me, but maybe I've been invisible this whole time and am just now noticing.
Gia's laugh cuts through the music... She's wearing his grandmother's ring. My ring. My vision narrows to a single, burning point.
The blood pounds in my ears, drowning the quartet, the laughter, everything. A hand closes on my arm, hard.
“Maeve.” I flinch, turning to face Kael. His voice is a low warning, his fingers burning through the thin fabric of my dress. 'Not here,' he hisses, his eyes darting to the crowd. 'My study. Now.'"
He walks away before I can tell him to shove his study up his ass. But I follow anyway. Because I'm pathetic like that.
His study looks exactly the same—dark wood, expensive leather, bookshelves with rare editions. The desk where he used to bend me over when we couldn't keep our hands off each other.
That feels like a different lifetime.
He closes the door. Gia's laughter echoes from outside, a reminder of exactly where we are and what's happening.
"You left," he says, the moment the door clicks shut. His jaw is clenched so tight I can see the muscle tick. “Three weeks, Maeve. You left the ring and vanished."
"You announced a second wife at a gala." My voice comes out steadier than I feel. "What was I supposed to do, stick around and watch you plan your wedding? And I guess you found a use for that ring anyway."
"It doesn’t matter. You're still my wife. My first wife."
"Oh, is that so?” The laugh that comes out of me sounds unhinged. "Your first wife. How progressive of you, really."
Something flickers in his eyes—pain maybe, or regret. Or just annoyance that I'm not playing along with whatever script he's written in his head.
“Your mistress is wearing your grandmother's ring.” The words physically hurt to say. “The one you promised me, Kael. The one you said would only be mine.”
"I remember what I said."
"Do you? Because I remember every fucking word."
Tears start falling and I hate myself for it.
"Do you know what your mother tells everyone? That I drove you away with my frigid body. That I'm barren from some teenage abortion. That's why you won't touch me, right? Because I'm damaged goods? Some filthy rags from society’s bottom."
He flinches. Actually fucking flinches. But he doesn't say anything, doesn't defend me, doesn't tell his family to shut their mouths like he used to.
"Three years, Kael." I'm crying for real now, the ugly kind where you can't catch your breath. "Three years you fought them all for me. Now you let them feast on my corpse while you take another woman to bed."
"Gia and I haven't—"
"Don't." The word comes out sharp. "Don't you fucking dare stand there and tell me you haven't fucked her when you won't touch me. When you can't even look at me!"
"It's not like that."
"Then what is it like? Explain it to me, Kael, because I've spent weeks trying to figure out what I did wrong."
He just stares at me. Silent. Like always.
I pull the divorce papers from my bag with shaking hands. They're crumpled from being folded and refolded a hundred times. Tear-stained from all the times I almost threw them away.
"Please. If you ever loved me, let me go. You have Gia. You have your empire. Just... let me disappear."
He stares at the papers like they might bite him. His hand reaches out, trembles in the space between us, then pulls back like I'm contagious.
"No."
The word is harsh. Final. Like a door slamming shut.
"Why?" It comes out as a sob. "You don't want me. You have another wife. Why keep me trapped?"
"Because you're mine." His voice is rough, desperate, something in it that doesn't match the cold mask he's been wearing for months. "You've always been mine. That doesn't change. Never."
"I'm not your possession!"
"You're my wife. That's final." He turns away, can't even look at me while I fall apart in front of him.
"Kael, please—"
"The answer is no, Maeve. It will always be no."
The last thread of hope I'd been clinging to snaps. The woman who loved him, the girl from the library, finally dies right there on his expensive rug. I don't say another word. I just run.
I run. Blind with tears, can't see where I'm going, just need to get out. Away from him, away from this house, away from the sound of Gia's laugh and the feel of his grandmother's ring burning a hole through my chest.
The front entrance materializes through my tears. I stumble toward it, vision blurry, throat raw from holding back sobs when I crash into someone. Hard.
Strong hands catch my arms—gentle, which is somehow worse because gentle is what I need and haven't had in months. "Ms. Winters."
I look up. The man is very tall and dangerous-looking in that way that comes from actual danger instead of playing at it. Expensive suit, dark eyes, and a scar running from temple to jaw that should be terrifying but somehow isn't.
"I'm sorry, I—" My voice breaks completely.
"Your father is waiting for you," he says softly.
The words don't make sense. I stare at him, sure I've finally lost my mind completely. "My father is dead. I'm an orphan."
His smile is sad. Understanding. Like he knows exactly how much this is going to wreck me. "Alexander Welch is very much alive. And he's been searching for you for twenty years.”