Chapter 1
The moment I opened my eyes, I tasted blood on my lips.
Not from a wound. From biting down too hard to keep from screaming.
I knew this morning. I remembered it.
The divorce papers were on the nightstand. The pen was in my hand. And in my past life, I had begged him not to leave me.
This time, I picked up the pen and signed.
My hand didn't shake. Not once.
The ink dried fast on the cold marble nightstand. I stared at my name—Elena Voss—and felt something in my chest crack open and release.
In my past life, I spent three years begging Dominic Ashford to look at me. Three years playing the dutiful contract wife while he kept my sister in a penthouse across the city. Three years pretending I didn't hear him whisper her name in his sleep.
And in the end, I died on the operating table donating a kidney to save her life.
She didn't even need it. The medical records were forged. My sister Vivian just wanted me gone.
And Dominic signed the consent form.
I set the pen down and stood up. My body felt lighter than it had in years.
The bedroom door opened. Dominic walked in, already dressed in his charcoal suit, phone pressed to his ear. He was mid-sentence when his eyes landed on the nightstand.
He froze.
"I'll call you back."
He hung up without waiting for a response. His jaw tightened as he picked up the papers, scanning the page until he found my signature at the bottom.
Then he looked at me.
Those steel-gray eyes—the ones I used to drown in—narrowed with something between suspicion and disbelief.
"You signed."
"Yes."
"Without negotiating?"
I pulled open the closet and reached for the small suitcase I'd packed in my past life but never had the courage to carry out.
"There's nothing to negotiate. You wanted a divorce. I'm giving you one."
Dominic didn't move. He stood in the center of the room like a statue carved from marble, the papers still in his hand.
"Elena."
I zipped the suitcase shut.
"You've been crying for two weeks straight over these papers. You called my office fourteen times yesterday. And now you're just... signing?"
I turned to face him. Calm. Clear.
"I changed my mind."
His eyes searched my face. I could see the gears turning—trying to find the angle, the manipulation, the trap.
He wouldn't find one.
"The lawyer will finalize everything by Friday," I said. "I'm not contesting the prenup. You keep everything. I walk away clean."
Something flickered across his expression—fast, unreadable.
Then it was gone.
"Where will you go?"
I picked up my suitcase and walked past him toward the door.
"That's no longer your concern."
I was halfway down the stairs when I heard his voice, sharper now.
"Elena."
I didn't stop.
"If this is a game—if you think walking out will make me chase you—"
I paused at the bottom of the staircase. Turned just enough to look up at him standing at the top, one hand gripping the banister.
"Dominic."
My voice was steady. No tears. No trembling.
"I'm not playing a game. I'm just done dying for you."
His expression shifted. Something cracked behind his eyes—just for a second.
But I didn't stay to watch.
I walked out the front door and didn't look back.
The morning air hit my lungs like freedom.
In the circular driveway, a familiar silver car was pulling up. The window rolled down, and my sister Vivian's face appeared—perfectly made up, perfectly poisonous.
She blinked at me. At the suitcase.
Then she smiled.
"Oh, Elena. Are you finally leaving?"
I smiled back.
"Yes. He's all yours."
Her smile wavered, just slightly.
She wasn't expecting that.
She was expecting tears. Begging. A scene she could report back to Dominic with wide, innocent eyes.
I walked past her car and kept going.
Behind me, I heard her heels click against the pavement as she got out and rushed toward the house.
Let her run to him. Let her have him.
In three months, she'll discover what I already know.
Dominic Ashford is bankrupt. He just doesn't know it yet.
And the company that's about to acquire his empire? It's mine.
---
Not from a wound. From biting down too hard to keep from screaming.
I knew this morning. I remembered it.
The divorce papers were on the nightstand. The pen was in my hand. And in my past life, I had begged him not to leave me.
This time, I picked up the pen and signed.
My hand didn't shake. Not once.
The ink dried fast on the cold marble nightstand. I stared at my name—Elena Voss—and felt something in my chest crack open and release.
In my past life, I spent three years begging Dominic Ashford to look at me. Three years playing the dutiful contract wife while he kept my sister in a penthouse across the city. Three years pretending I didn't hear him whisper her name in his sleep.
And in the end, I died on the operating table donating a kidney to save her life.
She didn't even need it. The medical records were forged. My sister Vivian just wanted me gone.
And Dominic signed the consent form.
I set the pen down and stood up. My body felt lighter than it had in years.
The bedroom door opened. Dominic walked in, already dressed in his charcoal suit, phone pressed to his ear. He was mid-sentence when his eyes landed on the nightstand.
He froze.
"I'll call you back."
He hung up without waiting for a response. His jaw tightened as he picked up the papers, scanning the page until he found my signature at the bottom.
Then he looked at me.
Those steel-gray eyes—the ones I used to drown in—narrowed with something between suspicion and disbelief.
"You signed."
"Yes."
"Without negotiating?"
I pulled open the closet and reached for the small suitcase I'd packed in my past life but never had the courage to carry out.
"There's nothing to negotiate. You wanted a divorce. I'm giving you one."
Dominic didn't move. He stood in the center of the room like a statue carved from marble, the papers still in his hand.
"Elena."
I zipped the suitcase shut.
"You've been crying for two weeks straight over these papers. You called my office fourteen times yesterday. And now you're just... signing?"
I turned to face him. Calm. Clear.
"I changed my mind."
His eyes searched my face. I could see the gears turning—trying to find the angle, the manipulation, the trap.
He wouldn't find one.
"The lawyer will finalize everything by Friday," I said. "I'm not contesting the prenup. You keep everything. I walk away clean."
Something flickered across his expression—fast, unreadable.
Then it was gone.
"Where will you go?"
I picked up my suitcase and walked past him toward the door.
"That's no longer your concern."
I was halfway down the stairs when I heard his voice, sharper now.
"Elena."
I didn't stop.
"If this is a game—if you think walking out will make me chase you—"
I paused at the bottom of the staircase. Turned just enough to look up at him standing at the top, one hand gripping the banister.
"Dominic."
My voice was steady. No tears. No trembling.
"I'm not playing a game. I'm just done dying for you."
His expression shifted. Something cracked behind his eyes—just for a second.
But I didn't stay to watch.
I walked out the front door and didn't look back.
The morning air hit my lungs like freedom.
In the circular driveway, a familiar silver car was pulling up. The window rolled down, and my sister Vivian's face appeared—perfectly made up, perfectly poisonous.
She blinked at me. At the suitcase.
Then she smiled.
"Oh, Elena. Are you finally leaving?"
I smiled back.
"Yes. He's all yours."
Her smile wavered, just slightly.
She wasn't expecting that.
She was expecting tears. Begging. A scene she could report back to Dominic with wide, innocent eyes.
I walked past her car and kept going.
Behind me, I heard her heels click against the pavement as she got out and rushed toward the house.
Let her run to him. Let her have him.
In three months, she'll discover what I already know.
Dominic Ashford is bankrupt. He just doesn't know it yet.
And the company that's about to acquire his empire? It's mine.
---