Handing Him Eviction Papers at Our Wedding Altar

"My car is waiting," Silas offered.

The sky above the cathedral broke open. Rain slammed onto the pavement in heavy sheets, soaking the stone courtyard in seconds. Thunder rattled the stained-glass windows behind us.

"I do not need an escort, Mr. Sterling." I ignored the black access card in his hand.

"The press is already gathering at the main gates. They smell blood."

"Let them. I have my own ride."

"They will swarm you," he warned, his dark eyes studying my face. "They want a reaction. A tear. A breakdown."

"They will be severely disappointed."

"Stubborn," he noted. He lowered his arm, tucking the card back into his tailored suit jacket.

"Self-reliant," I corrected. "There is a difference."

"We will see."

"Goodbye, Mr. Sterling."

I stepped out into the storm. The icy rain instantly soaked my hair, but I did not flinch. I kept my spine completely straight as I walked toward my waiting driver.

I walked straight into my downtown penthouse. The quiet luxury of the massive apartment felt like a different universe compared to the chaos at the cathedral.

I bypassed the living room entirely and went straight to the security panel on the wall.

I punched in Julian's old passcode.

*Access granted.*

I hit the reset key. I typed a new string of numbers.

*Code saved.*

I poured a generous measure of Merlot into a crystal glass. The dark red liquid coated the sides of the glass as I swirled it.

I sank into the white leather sofa. The seat faced the private elevator vestibule. A set of heavy shatterproof glass doors separated my living room from the foyer. The storm raged outside the floor-to-ceiling windows behind me, lighting up the room with jagged flashes of lightning.

Thirty minutes later, the private elevator chimed.

Julian stepped into the vestibule. He was completely soaked. His ruined tuxedo clung to his frame like a second skin. Rainwater poured off his hair, pooling into dirty puddles on the pristine marble floor.

He marched directly to the card reader beside the glass door. He swiped his plastic key.

*ERRR-EHH.*

A sharp rejection alarm pierced the quiet room. The LED flashed a hard red.

Julian stared at the crimson light. He wiped the wet hair out of his eyes and swiped again.

*ERRR-EHH.*

"Open the door, Harper!" he yelled. His voice sounded muffled through the thick glass.

I stayed on the sofa. I took a sip of my wine. It tasted rich and perfectly aged.

He slapped the card against the scanner. "I know you are in there! Open it!"

He swiped a fourth time. The red light blinked angrily, denying him entry.

Julian threw the plastic card at the floor.

"You cannot do this to me!" he shouted over the booming thunder outside.

I reached for the remote on the coffee table. I pressed the intercom button.

"I already did," my voice echoed into the vestibule through the overhead speaker.

He jumped at the sound of my voice. He glared through the glass, searching the dimly lit living room until he spotted me on the sofa.

"This is my apartment!" Julian bellowed at the ceiling camera.

"I own the deed," I replied over the intercom. "You were just a guest."

"I picked out that sofa! I decorated this place!"

"With my credit card."

"Turn off the alarm and let me in. We are going to talk about this."

"We have nothing left to discuss."

"I left my things in there!"

"My staff boxed your belongings an hour ago. They are waiting in the loading dock next to the dumpsters."

"You threw my things in the trash?"

"I put them exactly where they belong."

Julian balled his hand into a fist. He punched the shatterproof pane.

A dull thud vibrated through the living room.

"You arrogant bitch!" he screamed.

"Language, Julian," I warned, keeping my tone entirely flat.

He punched the glass again. Harder.

"Open this goddamn door!"

His third strike left a bright smear on the glass. The skin over his knuckles split open. Blood mixed with the rainwater dripping from his sleeves.

"You are locking me out of my own life!" he yelled, hitting the barrier a fourth time.

"You walked out yourself."

"I made a mistake!"

"You made a choice. Now you get to live with the consequences."

"You pushed me into her arms!" he accused, pointing a bloody finger at the camera. "You never cared about me! You only cared about the company!"

"I cared enough to marry you. You ruined it."

"I will ruin you!" he threatened, pounding his bleeding fist against the pane. "I will take you to court. I will take half of everything!"

"With what lawyer?" I asked.

He froze. His chest heaved as the reality of his empty bank accounts hit him again.

I set my wine glass down on the coffee table. I stood up from the sofa.

I walked toward the foyer barrier.

Julian saw me approaching. He stopped punching. He flattened both hands against the bloody glass.

"Harper," he panted, his breath fogging up the pane. "Please."

I stopped inches from the door. I looked at his ruined hands, then up to his desperate, bloodshot eyes.

"Give me my access back," he pleaded. "Just unlock the door."

"No."

"I have nowhere else to go!"

"Call Chloe. I am sure she has room."

"She left me at the cathedral!" he shouted. "She took a cab and left me in the rain!"

"A tragic end to a beautiful romance."

"Stop playing games with me! I am freezing!"

"You should have brought an umbrella."

"Harper, I am begging you. Let me inside. We can fix this."

"There is no 'we' anymore."

"I am still your fiancé!"

"You are a stranger trespassing on my property."

I raised my right hand. I pressed my index finger directly against the glass. I aligned my fingertip perfectly with the bloody print left by his right fist.

He stared at my finger.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice cracking over the intercom.

I curled my other fingers inward. I rotated my wrist.

I gave him a thumbs-down.

Julian's eyes widened. The last shred of his sanity snapped entirely.

His face twisted into pure, unadulterated rage. He stepped back from the door.

"You think you won?" he roared. "You think you can just erase me?"

He reached into the pocket of his soaked trousers.

He pulled out a heavy metal tire iron.

He swung it backward, aiming right for the center of the glass.