The Wife They Said Could Never Leave

"Adrian insisted you have this, Seraphina," Vivienne said, stepping into the doorway of the master suite.

She held the velvet box open, the cold glare of the hundred-million-dollar sapphire catching the morning light.

I took one look at the massive jewel and backed out of the room. "Keep it."

When the second girl had brushed Adrian's knuckles last October, he had recoiled, retched into a wastebasket, and bought me a sprawling countryside manor the next morning, swearing, "I will only ever have one woman by my side."

Two hours later, I stood in the cavernous, empty foyer of that exact property.

My shoes tapped against the bare marble floor. I held the thick parchment of the property deed. My name sat at the top in bold black ink. I had visited this place exactly once.

The heavy oak front door swung open.

Lucas strode into the hall. He stopped a few feet away, his gaze sweeping over the dust-sheet-covered furniture.

"You actually came here," my cousin said, his voice bouncing off the vaulted ceiling.

"I needed to see what a lie looks like in real estate form," I replied. I tossed the deed onto a covered console table. "Take it. Sell it. Move the money into the offshore account."

Lucas picked up the document. He scanned the legal print, his brow furrowing. "I cannot liquidate this yet, Seraphina. It will trigger an alert to Adrian's financial team."

"I do not care what alerts them. I want it gone."

"You have to care." Lucas stepped closer, his footsteps loud against the stone. "Three weeks. That is all we have left. Your father's navigation algorithm patent expires on the thirtieth. Hale Aerospace's legal team watches every major asset tied to your name. If you liquidate this estate today, Adrian's risk office will know you are preparing to leave before we are ready to move."

"Then bury it," I said. "Put the deed in a holding trust. Keep the keys, keep the accounts, keep every dollar out of my sight until the deadline passes."

Lucas studied me for a long moment. The dust sheets behind him shifted in the draft, making the empty manor seem to breathe around us.

"You are really done," he said quietly.

"I was done the moment he walked past my door this morning."

My phone buzzed in my hand before Lucas could answer. An unknown number flashed across the screen, followed by a single message.

The dancer wants to meet. She says Vivienne forged your name.

I looked from the glowing screen to the deed lying on the covered table.

"Find me a quiet place downtown," I told Lucas. "If the tenth woman is finally willing to talk, I want to hear every word."