Chapter 1 - The Honeymoon CrashI sat in the glow of my office monitors, watching my phone screen light up with Sebastian’s name for the fourth time in three minutes. I finally picked it up, not to answer, but to block his number. I did the same to Alyssa. They were currently standing in Miami International Airport, dressed in their wedding finery, staring at a ticket counter where an airline agent was likely explaining that their first-class tickets to Saint Lucia had been voided due to fraud.

I packed my briefcase, smoothed my tailored skirt, and took the private elevator down to the parking garage. The shock had entirely evaporated, replaced by a crystalline, lethal focus.

During the drive back to my Lincoln Park home, I called a 24-hour locksmith and my personal security firm. By the time I pulled into the driveway, the locksmith was already waiting. While he swapped every deadbolt on the property, I walked through the house with three large, heavy-duty contractor bags. I didn't pack Sebastian’s things with care. I swept his designer suits—which I had paid for—into the plastic. I dumped his golf clubs, his expensive cologne collection, and his ridiculous humidor into the bags. I dragged them out to the curb just as it started to rain.

Then, I looked at the black Range Rover parked in the driveway. The car he called his. I pulled up the financing app on my phone, verified my sole ownership, and called a towing company.

"I need a vehicle removed from my property," I told the dispatcher. "It belongs to me, I have the title, and I want it moved to a secure storage facility on the other side of the city. Tonight."

As the tow truck hooked up the Range Rover and hauled it into the rainy Chicago night, my phone buzzed with an email. It was from Sebastian.

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Victoria, what the hell is going on? Alyssa’s card is declining, the honeymoon is canceled, and you won't answer your phone. Call me immediately. This is a massive misunderstanding.

I laughed out loud in the empty, newly secured house. A misunderstanding. He had stood barefoot on a beach and vowed his life to my assistant, but the real tragedy was that he suddenly had to pay for his own hotel room. I didn't reply. I poured myself a glass of expensive Cabernet, locked the doors, and went to sleep in a bed that finally belonged only to me.