You Cannot Afford Your Divorced Wife Now

The next day, the glass-walled office on the top floor of the Castillo Corporation building felt like a cage. Jeremey couldn't focus. The image of Adeline's cold, defiant eyes was burned into his mind.

A tablet on his desk displayed the morning's gossip rags. The headlines were sensational. CASTILLO HEIR'S BIRTHDAY BASH BRAWL! EX-WIFE AND MYSTERY MAN CRASH THE PARTY! The accompanying photo was a long-lens shot of Adeline and Gilmer walking away, a united, formidable front.

He swiped the screen off with a curse. The sight of them together was a physical irritant, like sand in his eye.

Miles Proctor knocked and entered, his expression grim.

"Sir. We have the preliminary results of the investigation into Adeline Garrett."

"And?" Jeremey snapped.

Miles hesitated. "Sir, there's nothing. For the past three years, Adeline Garrett doesn't exist. No credit history, no travel records, no tax filings, no social security activity. It's as if she vanished."

Jeremey's jaw tightened. "A person doesn't just vanish, Miles."

"Her entire identity appears to be firewalled by a level of security I've never seen before. As for Mr. Garrett... we've confirmed he's the executive director of something called the Garrett Foundation. But the foundation itself is a ghost. Extremely private, almost no public records."

The dead end was a direct challenge to Jeremey's sense of control. He hated it. It confirmed his suspicion that Adeline was part of something far more calculated than a simple emotional outburst.

His private line buzzed. It was the front desk.

"Mr. Castillo, I have an Adeline Garrett in the lobby. She says she has an appointment."

Jeremey froze. The sheer audacity. To come here, to his territory.

A cruel thought took shape. "Send her up, Rebecca," he said, his voice smooth. Then he spoke to Miles. "Take her to the 19th floor. The unoccupied one."

Floor 19 was a concrete shell. A vast, empty space of raw floors and exposed support columns, waiting for renovation. It was a concrete cage.

When Adeline was escorted in, she took in the oppressive, industrial space without a flicker of emotion.

The heavy fire door slammed shut behind her, the sound echoing in the emptiness. Jeremey emerged from the stairwell, his footsteps loud on the dusty floor. He advanced on her, his size and presence amplified in the stark environment.

"You have a lot of nerve," he said, his voice dangerously soft.

Adeline met his gaze. "I'm not here to fight, Jeremey. I'm here for my daughter. I want visitation rights. I'm legally entitled to them."

Her calm, reasonable tone infuriated him more than any screaming match could have. He closed the distance between them in two strides, grabbing her wrist and slamming her back against a cold, concrete pillar.

The sudden proximity, the familiar scent of her skin, sent a jolt through him. He crushed it with anger.

"Visitation?" he hissed, his face inches from hers. "After what you did to Hayden? After abandoning your daughter for three years? You are entitled to nothing."

Her wrist ached in his grip, but she didn't flinch. "I didn't abandon her. You took her from me."

"And now she calls Hayden 'Mama'," he whispered, the words meant to be a blade to her heart. "She doesn't need you."

A bitter smile touched her lips. "Doesn't she? If that were true, Jeremey, why are you so terrified of me seeing her?"

He was. The realization struck him with the force of a physical blow. He was afraid. Afraid Isabell would choose her.

The truth, spoken aloud, made him lose control. His grip tightened. "I'm warning you, Adeline. Stay away from my family. Or I'll make sure you and your 'brother' disappear from New York. Permanently."

He meant it. The threat hung in the dead air between them, heavy and real.

Adeline didn't show fear. With her free hand, she slowly reached into her handbag and pulled out a small, digital voice recorder.

She pressed a button.

His own voice filled the silence, tinny and distorted, but unmistakably his. "...I'll make sure you and your 'brother' disappear from New York. Permanently."

Jeremey's blood ran cold.

She clicked it off, twisted her wrist free from his suddenly slack grip, and took a step back.

"I'm not the same woman you threw away three years ago, Jeremey Castillo," she said, her voice steady as she slipped the recorder back into her purse. "Now, you have two choices. You can arrange for me to see Isabell. Or we can let my lawyer play this recording for a judge, and the entire world can hear how the CEO of Castillo Corporation threatens his ex-wife."

He stared at her, truly seeing the woman she had become. Calm. Calculating. Unbreakable.

He had created his own worst enemy.