My driver opened the door of the black car at the curb. I slid inside. In the mirror, I saw Ethan standing on the courthouse steps, his expression shifting from anger to confusion to the first shadow of fear.
He had no idea the car was one of the least valuable things I owned.
And he had never understood that the woman he treated like furniture was never ordinary.
The car stopped at a skyscraper in the center of the city. Four polished words stood above the entrance.
The Sterling Group.
My company.
Ethan had never known, not because I lied, but because he never cared enough to ask. He thought I had family money and a talent for managing households. He did not know that the contracts that saved Apex, the partnerships that made him look brilliant, and the investments that arrived just before disaster all came through me.