After My Fiancé Tried to Burn Me Alive

I drove to Malibu the next morning. The highway stretched out clean and bright. Ocean on one side. Cliffs on the other. My hands were steady on the wheel.

Dana had called twice already. I let it go to voicemail. Marcus had sent a text confirming the paperwork was filed. The eviction notice was official. Forty-eight hours starting yesterday at seven p.m. That meant Declan had until tomorrow night.

I was giving him less.

The penthouse building rose white and modern against the blue sky. I pulled into the garage. My spot was still mine. Declan's car sat two spaces over. A Tesla I'd cosigned for. I made a mental note to add it to the asset recovery list.

I took the elevator up. The ride was smooth and silent. I had my phone in one hand. My keys in the other. When the doors opened into my foyer, I smelled coffee.

They were still here.

I walked through the living room. The furniture was exactly as I'd left it. Expensive. Carefully chosen. The kind of space that gets photographed for magazines. My space.

The master bedroom door was closed.

I opened it.

Declan and Ivanna were in my bed. Naked. Tangled in my sheets. The ones I'd picked out from that boutique in Paris. Egyptian cotton. Fifteen hundred thread count.

They didn't hear me at first. Ivanna's head was on Declan's chest. His arm was around her. They looked comfortable. Like they'd been sleeping there for weeks.

Maybe they had.

I stood in the doorway and watched them for three seconds. My brain cataloged everything. The way her hand rested on his stomach. The way his fingers played with her hair. The empty wine glasses on my nightstand. The discarded clothes on my floor.

Then Ivanna's eyes opened. She saw me. She didn't move. She just smiled.

"Good morning, Rowan."

Declan's eyes snapped open. He sat up fast. The sheet fell to his waist. "Rowan—shit—this isn't—"

I crossed the room in four steps. I slapped him. Hard. Across the face. The sound cracked through the air.

Then I turned and slapped Ivanna. Just as hard.

Neither of them said anything. Declan's hand went to his cheek. Ivanna's mouth opened but nothing came out.

I pulled out my phone. I opened the camera. I started recording.

I swept the lens slowly across the room. The bed. The sheets. Their faces. The wine glasses. The clothes. I didn't say a word. I just filmed. Steady. Methodical. The way you document evidence.

Declan found his voice. "Rowan, stop. Let's talk about this like adults."

I kept filming.

Ivanna sat up. She didn't bother covering herself. She looked right into the camera. "You were never enough for him. Everyone knew it but you."

I zoomed in on her face. Got that sneer in perfect focus. Then I panned back to Declan.

He was scrambling for his boxers. "Rowan, come on. This is insane. You can't just—"

I stopped recording. I lowered the phone. I looked at them both.

"You have twenty minutes before building security arrives. I suggest you find pants."

I turned and walked toward the living room.

Behind me, I heard Ivanna laugh. "That's it? You're just going to leave?"

I didn't answer. I pulled up the building security number. I dialed.

"Ms. Palmer," the voice on the other end said. "How can we help you?"

"I have two trespassers in my penthouse. I need them removed immediately."

"We'll send someone up right now."

"Thank you."

I hung up. I walked to the balcony doors and opened them. The ocean wind poured in. Cool and sharp. I picked up Declan's jeans from the bedroom floor. I walked to the balcony. I threw them over the railing.

They tumbled down toward the rocks below.

I went back for Ivanna's dress. Red silk. Expensive. I threw it over too.

Declan appeared in the doorway. He'd found his boxers. His face was red. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Cleaning my house."

I grabbed his shirt. His shoes. I threw them all over the balcony one by one. Ivanna's heels went next. Then her purse.

"You're insane!" Ivanna screamed from the bedroom. She was wrapped in my sheet now. My fifteen-hundred-thread-count sheet.

I walked back in. I grabbed the corner of the sheet and yanked it off her. She stumbled. Naked. Furious.

I bundled the sheet in my arms. I walked to the balcony. I threw it over.

The white fabric billowed in the wind like a sail. Then it disappeared.

I turned back to them. "Nineteen minutes."

Declan's jaw was tight. "You're going to regret this."

"No," I said. "I'm really not."

The elevator chimed. Security stepped into the foyer. Two men in uniform. They looked at Declan and Ivanna. Then at me.

"Ms. Palmer?"

"These two need to leave. Now."

The lead guard nodded. "Sir, ma'am, you need to come with us."

Declan didn't move. "This is my home too."

"No," I said. "It's not. It never was."

The guards stepped forward. Declan finally moved. He grabbed a throw pillow from the couch and held it in front of himself. Ivanna wrapped her arms around her chest.

They walked to the elevator. The guards followed. Before the doors closed, Ivanna looked back at me. Her eyes were full of something sharp and cold.

"This isn't over," she said.

I smiled. "Yes. It is."

The doors slid shut.

I stood alone in my penthouse. The ocean wind still poured through the open balcony doors. The bed was empty. The sheets were gone.

I pulled out my phone. I uploaded the video to my cloud. Backed it up three times.

Then I called my housekeeper. "I need the master bedroom completely stripped and deep cleaned. Today. Everything goes. New mattress. New sheets. New everything."

"Of course, Ms. Palmer."

I hung up. I walked to the balcony. I stood at the railing and looked down at the rocks below. I could see the white sheet caught on the stones. The red dress tangled in the surf.

The wind pulled at my hair. The sun was bright and warm.

I felt nothing but clean.