That night, he brought her to our home for dinner. He asked me not to wear my late mother's perfume because Hettie was allergic. He was asking me to erase the last piece of my mother for her.
Then I saw it. Around Hettie's neck was the diamond necklace Brady had given me for our first anniversary.
The doctors had already warned me that with my terminal illness, I didn't have much time left. That single, cruel act was the final blow. The last bit of love I had for the boy who once promised to protect me died completely.
I walked over to the table and calmly signed the divorce papers. Then, I picked up my phone.
Darcy, I said to my lawyer, my voice steady. "I'm transferring all of my shares to Brady Kennedy. Make it effective immediately."
Chapter 1
The scent of lilies filled the house.
It was a smell Karissa Simon had grown to hate. It clung to the curtains, the furniture, her clothes. It was the smell of Hettie Lindsey.
Brady Kennedy walked into the living room, his phone pressed to his ear. He didn't look at Karissa. He never did, not really.
"Yes, of course, they're your favorite," he was saying, his voice low and soft, a tone he never used with her. "The whole house will be full of them."
Karissa felt her throat tighten. It wasn't an allergy, but the familiar ache of a heart that had been ignored for four long years.
Our marriage wasn't born from love, but I had prayed it would grow into it. Four years ago, when my family's legacy, the Simon Group, was on the verge of ruin, the Kennedys didn't offer a bailout; they offered a wedding. I became the price of our survival.
I knew for Brady, this was a cage.
He looked at me not as his wife, but as the living embodiment of the deal that had shackled him. But I held on, fueled by the ghost of the boy I once knew-my brother's best friend, the one who promised to always protect me.
For four years, I've been trying to love the man he is now, hoping to find a flicker of the boy I fell in love with. I told myself this gilded cage was a home, and that my love would be enough to set us both free.
He hung up the phone. The silence that followed was colder than his voice had been.
"I need you to sign these," Brady said. He tossed a manila folder onto the marble coffee table. It slid across the polished surface and stopped just at the edge.
Divorce Papers.
The words were printed in stark, black ink at the top of the page.
Karissa stared at them. She'd known this was coming. Ever since Hettie, his childhood sweetheart, had resurfaced two months ago, this moment had been hanging over them, a guillotine waiting to fall.
"You got what you wanted, Karissa," he said, his voice flat and dripping with resentment. "Your family used this marriage to chain me down. Now the debt is paid. I'm taking what I'm owed. The Simon Group will be my compensation."
His words erased every sacrifice, every quiet effort she had made to be a good wife, to help him behind the scenes, hoping he would one day see her.
"I won't sign," she said, her voice barely a whisper. It was a reflex, the last plea of a dying hope.
He finally looked at her. His eyes, the color of a stormy sea, were filled with a familiar, chilling contempt.
"Don't be pathetic. Hettie is back. She's carrying my child."
Each word was a hammer blow against the fragile walls of her heart.
Karissa's hand went to her stomach. A desperate, foolish plan had formed in her mind over the last few sleepless nights. A last-ditch lie.
"I'm pregnant too, Brady."
He laughed. It was a short, ugly sound.
"Do you think I'm a fool? We haven't shared a bed in three years. Stop this disgusting charade. You've always been a liar."
He picked up a vase of the freshly delivered lilies, inhaling their scent deeply, a smile touching his lips for the first time that evening. It was a smile for another woman.
That night, the house felt like a stage for her public execution. Hettie arrived, clinging to Brady's arm, her eyes sweeping over the decor with a proprietary air. For Karissa, seeing Hettie in this house was a special kind of poison.
Hettie wasn't just Brady's childhood sweetheart; she was the girl Karissa's own father had raised. After Hettie's parents died, the Simons had taken her in, giving her a home, an education, a family. She had been like a sister. A sister who, it was now painfully clear, had always coveted everything Karissa had.
As Karissa came down the stairs, Brady stopped her.
"Hettie's allergic to that perfume you wear," he said, not even looking at her. "Go wash it off."
Karissa froze. The perfume was a custom blend, the last gift she had from her late mother. It was the only thing in this house that felt truly hers. He was asking her to erase the last piece of her mother for the girl her family had saved.
Numbly, she obeyed. When she returned, they were seated at the dining table. And then she saw it. Glittering under the chandelier, resting against Hettie's skin, was the diamond necklace Brady had given Karissa for their first anniversary. A gift he had thrown at her, yes, but it was still a symbol of their marriage. Now, it was just another trophy for his new life, worn by the girl who grew up in her shadow.
The pain in her chest was sharp, a physical ache the doctors had warned her about. Her chronic heart condition, a lifelong shadow, flared under extreme stress. They had told her a major emotional shock could be dangerous. That single, cruel act was the final blow. The last bit of love she had for the boy who once promised to protect her died completely.
In that moment, her foolish hope was replaced by a cold, clear instinct for survival. Staying here, loving him, would literally kill her.
She walked over to the table and calmly signed the divorce papers. Then, she picked up her phone.
She scrolled to a number she hadn't called in months. Her lawyer, Darcy Dodson.
"Darcy," Karissa said, her voice clear and calm. "He served the papers. I've signed. It's time. Activate the 'Phoenix Clause' from the merger agreement. My father's final gift."
Brady, who had been watching with a smug look of victory, frowned. The name sounded vaguely familiar, some dusty addendum he'd never bothered to read.
"Karissa, are you sure?" Darcy's voice was tense with excitement. "Once this is done, there's no going back. It's total war."
"I've never been more sure of anything in my life," Karissa replied, her eyes locked on Brady's confused face. "Let him have the company. Let's see how he likes running a kingdom of ash."
She hung up before Darcy could reply.
She looked at Brady. He was staring at her, the flicker of surprise in his cold eyes turning to suspicion. He hadn't expected this.
"What pathetic trick is this?" he sneered. "What's a 'Phoenix Clause'?"
Karissa allowed herself a small, cold smile. It was the first real smile she'd had in four years.
"It's not a trick, Brady," she said, her voice steady and clear. "It's called due diligence. You should have read the fine print."
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