You Cannot Afford Your Divorced Wife Now

Back in the ballroom, a tomb-like silence had fallen. The last of the guests, whispering amongst themselves, were being ushered out by a frantic Miles Proctor.

Jeremey stood in the center of the cavernous room, one hand pressed to his throbbing jaw. The humiliation was a physical thing, a hot coil tightening in his chest.

Hayden made her way from the doorway, still touching her scratched cheek, and slipped her arm through his. She clung to him, her face a picture of worried devotion. "Jeremey, darling, don't let her get to you," she whispered, her voice a soothing balm. "She's... she's just desperate. It's sad, really."

Her words were meant to comfort, but they only stoked the flames of his anger, directing it squarely at Adeline.

When the room was finally empty, Jeremey's gaze landed on Isabell. She was standing by the grand entrance, staring at the doors Adeline had just walked through.

A spike of irritation shot through him. He walked over and crouched down, forcing his voice to be gentle. "Isabell. Did that woman frighten you?"

Isabell shook her head. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and serious. "She was pretty," she said softly.

The answer caught Jeremey off guard. Beside him, Hayden's expression tightened for a fraction of a second.

She immediately swept in, scooping Isabell into her arms. Her tone was bright and sweet, but her grip was firm. "Yes, she was, sweetie. But she's a very bad woman. A woman who hurts people. We don't want to see her again, do we?"

Isabell squirmed in her arms, her face buried in Hayden's shoulder. She didn't answer.

Hayden started toward the staircase, but Isabell suddenly pointed a small finger at her face. "Mommy, you have something on your cheek."

Hayden paused, confused, and touched her cheek. "What is it, honey?"

Jeremey looked closer. On the perfect porcelain of Hayden's cheek was a faint, but distinct, red mark. It wasn't a slap; it was a thin, angry scratch, as if a sharp fingernail had deliberately raked the skin.

A memory surfaced through his rage. In the chaos of Adeline's departure, a brief moment where she'd brushed past Hayden near the door. He'd dismissed it as incidental contact.

Hayden pulled a small compact from her clutch. She snapped it open, and her face went pale. It was a deliberate mark, a calculated insult delivered with stealth.

The mask of the gentle victim shattered. Her body trembled with fury. "She... she did this to me!" The words came out in a choked sob, tears of genuine rage and humiliation filling her eyes.

She turned her face to Jeremey, showcasing the evidence of her violation.

The sight of that red mark on Hayden's skin, coupled with the lingering pain in his own jaw, sent Jeremey's anger into overdrive.

Adeline Garrett. She hadn't just returned. She had returned to wage war.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Miles, his voice dangerously low. "I want to know everything. Where has Adeline Garrett been for the last three years? Who is that man? I want their lives turned upside down. I want them to pay."

Leaning against his chest, Hayden allowed a small, triumphant smile to touch her lips. Adeline's aggression was the perfect gift. It made her the victim, and it made Jeremey her avenger.

From the top of the stairs, Isabell watched them. She saw her father's rage, and she saw Hayden's fake tears.

She knew. That pretty lady was her mommy.

And she had seen the scratch. It happened in a blur as her mommy walked past. It hadn't scared her. It had felt... right.

Because she remembered the cold look in Mommy's eyes when her father wasn't looking.

Jeremey ended the call, his face a thunderous mask. He pulled Hayden closer. "Don't worry," he vowed. "I will never let her hurt you or Isabell again."

He was so consumed by his protective fury that he failed to recognize the true nature of his emotions. This wasn't about justice. It was about a woman he thought he owned, a woman who had slipped his grasp and now dared to challenge him. It was the rage of a thwarted possessor.

He barked orders to increase security. Adeline Garrett was not to set foot on his property again.

Miles away, in a penthouse suite overlooking Central Park, Adeline stared at her own hand. One of her nails was slightly chipped.

That scratch was just the interest. The principal on the debt was yet to be collected.