Chapter 3

Dominic Hale.

Old money. Older than the Blackwells, older than the Ashfords. The Hale family didn't just sit at the table of power—they built the table.

He was also the boy who lived next door when I was fifteen, who taught me to play chess in his family's garden, who once punched a boy twice his size for calling me "the lesser Ashford."

When I married Carter, Dominic disappeared. Left the country. Built a tech empire in Europe. Became the kind of man whose name made Wall Street nervous.

Now he was standing in the lobby of The Meridian Hotel, looking at me like no time had passed at all.

"Madeline."

His voice was deeper than I remembered. His jaw sharper. But his eyes—dark, steady, impossibly warm—those hadn't changed.

"Dominic? What are you doing here?"

He glanced at Becca, then back at me. He took in my red-rimmed eyes, my clenched fists, and something in his expression hardened.

"Who made you cry?"

"No one. I'm fine."

"You're a terrible liar. You always were." He stepped closer. "I just got back to the country today. I was meeting a client here." His gaze swept the lobby, then returned to me. "Why are you at this hotel at 9 p.m.?"

Becca stepped in. "Her husband's upstairs with her sister. We just caught them."

"Becca!" I hissed.

But Dominic's face had already changed. The warmth vanished. What replaced it was something cold. Dangerous.

"Carter Blackwell," he said flatly. Not a question.

"It's not your problem, Dominic."

"You've been crying. That makes it my problem."

He handed me the lilies. "These were for a dinner table. They look better with you."

Despite everything, I almost smiled.

He didn't push. Didn't ask more questions. He simply said, "If you need anything—a lawyer, a place to stay, someone to destroy Carter Blackwell's credit rating—call me."

He gave me his card. His personal number was handwritten on the back.

Becca practically vibrated beside me. The moment Dominic walked away, she grabbed my arm.

"Dominic Hale. THE Dominic Hale. The man Forbes called 'the most eligible bachelor in the Western Hemisphere.' He just gave you his personal number and offered to destroy your husband."

"He was being polite."

"He was looking at you like you were the only person in that lobby. Madeline, that man is still in love with you."

I shook my head. I couldn't think about Dominic right now. I had a marriage to dismantle.

That night, I called my attorney, Lawrence Park—the best divorce lawyer in the city. I told him everything.

"With this evidence," Lawrence said, "you'll get a clean divorce. But Madeline, the prenuptial agreement your stepmother signed on your behalf—it's iron-clad. If you initiate the divorce, you walk away with nothing. No alimony, no share of Blackwell assets."

"I don't want his money."

"But he has access to your trust fund. Your father put Carter as co-signatory when you married. If you divorce without strategy, Carter could freeze your accounts."

My stepmother had engineered everything. She made sure that if this marriage failed, I'd be the one who suffered.

I closed my eyes. "Then I need to be smart about this."

"You need leverage," Lawrence said. "Something bigger than an affair. Affairs are embarrassing, but in a courtroom, they won't break the prenup."

I thought about Carter. About his business. About the Blackwell empire that was supposedly untouchable.

"What if Carter's company isn't as clean as it looks?"

Lawrence paused. "What do you mean?"

"My father merged several contracts with Blackwell Industries when I married Carter. I signed documents I didn't fully understand. My stepmother told me they were standard. But lately, I've been receiving anonymous messages—first about the hotel, and before that, about irregularities in Blackwell's financial reports."

"If there's fraud, and your name is on those documents, you could be implicated."

My blood went cold.

"Find out," I said. "Find out everything."

I hung up and stared at the anonymous message on my phone.

Someone was feeding me information. Someone who knew about Carter and Sienna. Someone who knew about the company.

Who are you? I typed back.

Three dots appeared. Then:

"Someone who's been watching you waste yourself on a man who doesn't deserve you. It's time to wake up, Madeline."