His Unwanted Wife, The Nation's Hero

The heavy brass handle of the Manhattan penthouse door felt cold against Cilla's palm.

She pushed the door open, stepping into the foyer.

Today was her wedding anniversary. She had spent the entire afternoon preparing, convincing herself that the recent distance between her and Jace was just a phase.

Before she could even take off her coat, the sound of bright, ringing laughter drifted from the living room.

It was a woman's laugh.

Cilla's stomach dropped. The muscles in her jaw tightened instantly.

She slipped off her coat, hanging it on the rack with slow, deliberate movements. She took a deep breath, forcing her heart rate to steady.

"Oh, Jace, it's absolutely stunning. The vintage cut is so unique," the woman's voice cooed.

It was Carolyn.

Cilla's blood turned to ice water in her veins. She walked briskly down the hallway, her low heels making no sound on the imported marble floor.

She stepped into the living room. Her eyes immediately locked onto Carolyn's neck.

Resting against Carolyn's collarbone was a silver pendant, shaped like a teardrop with a subtle, intricate engraving on the back.

Cilla's chest seized. Her lungs forgot how to pull in air.

That was her mother's necklace. The only thing recovered from the explosion that took her parents' lives.

Jace stood next to the marble kitchen island, a relaxed smile on his face. He popped the cork on a bottle of champagne and poured it into two crystal flutes.

He didn't even look up to acknowledge Cilla's presence.

Cilla closed the distance between them in three long strides.

"Take it off," Cilla said. Her voice was flat, devoid of any warmth.

Carolyn gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in a perfectly practiced gesture of shock. "Oh! Cilla, you're home early. I'm so sorry, we were just..."

Jace finally turned around. His smile vanished, replaced by a deep frown.

"What is wrong with you?" Jace demanded, setting the champagne bottle down hard. "You walk in here and immediately start ruining the mood. Have some manners."

Cilla pointed a rigid finger at Carolyn's chest. "I said, take that necklace off right now."

Carolyn's eyes welled up with tears instantly. Her lower lip trembled as she looked up at Jace, shrinking her shoulders to appear smaller.

"Jace, I... I didn't know it was hers," Carolyn whispered, her voice cracking.

Jace stepped squarely in front of Carolyn, using his broad shoulders to block Cilla's view.

"Stop acting crazy, Cilla," Jace said, his tone dripping with condescension. "It was just sitting in a dusty box in the guest room. It's a cheap piece of junk. Carolyn liked it, so I gave it to her."

A harsh, bitter laugh scraped its way out of Cilla's throat.

"A cheap piece of junk?" Cilla repeated, her fingernails digging into her own palms until the skin nearly broke. "That is the recovered property of a fallen CIA operative. It was my mother's."

Jace blinked. A flicker of hesitation crossed his face, but his pride quickly swallowed it. "Don't pull that CIA card, Cilla. It was a tragic accident, not some movie plot. That was years ago. Don't be dramatic," Jace scoffed. He reached into the inner pocket of his tailored suit jacket and pulled out his checkbook.

He grabbed a pen from the counter and started scribbling.

"Here," Jace said, ripping the check free and holding it out to her. "Buy yourself a new one. Buy ten. Just stop embarrassing yourself in front of our guest."

Cilla stared at the piece of paper. The sheer disrespect made her vision blur at the edges.

She slapped her hand upward, striking Jace's wrist.

The checkbook flew out of his grip. The loose check fluttered through the air, landing on the floor like trash.

Carolyn let out a high-pitched shriek and scrambled to hide completely behind Jace's back.

In that split second of chaos, Cilla lunged forward.

Jace realized what she was doing. He reached out, his large hand aiming to clamp down on her wrist to stop her.

Instinctively, Cilla flinched away from his touch, her body reacting to the sudden aggression. She stumbled back a half-step, her shoulder dipping just enough so that his large hand grabbed nothing but empty air.

She reached around his torso and grabbed the silver chain resting on Carolyn's neck.

With one sharp, violent yank, Cilla pulled.

The metal clasp snapped with a sharp click.

Cilla closed her fist around the pendant, the cold metal biting into her skin.

Carolyn clutched her neck, letting out a dramatic sob. "She hurt me! Jace, she choked me!"

Jace's face turned a dark, furious red. "You are an unreasonable, psychotic woman!" he roared.

Cilla stood her ground. She looked at the man she had married.

The man she had quietly supported, the man whose company she had built from the shadows.

Every ounce of warmth she had ever felt for him evaporated, leaving nothing but a hollow, freezing void in her chest.

"Apologize to her," Jace ordered, pointing a finger at Cilla's face. "Right now."

Cilla didn't say a word. She turned on her heel and walked toward the front door.

Her steps were even, measured, and completely resolute.

"If you walk out that door, don't expect a single cent for your living expenses!" Jace yelled down the hallway.

Cilla paused with her hand on the doorknob.

She looked over her shoulder, her lips curling into a smile that held absolutely no joy.

She pulled the door open and slammed it shut behind her.

The heavy thud echoed in the hallway.

Cilla stepped into the private elevator and pressed the button for the lobby.

She opened her fist and looked at the silver teardrop resting on her palm.

Her chest rose and fell in a deep, shaky breath.

She was done playing the quiet, useless wife. It was time to bring her parents' ashes home.