The divorce he never saw coming

​The air in the law firm of Fitzroy & Associates was chilled to a precise, unforgiving temperature. It was the kind of cold that seeped through fabric and settled in the marrow of your bones the kind of cold Julian Cohen loved.

​I sat across from Lewis Fitzroy, my fingers trembling as I smoothed the crisp, white edges of the document on his mahogany desk. For three years, I had been the ghost in the penthouse, the woman who kept the bed warm and the coffee hot, only to be looked past as if I were made of glass.

​"Are you certain, Lia?" Lewis asked, his voice low with a hint of something that sounded like pity. "Julian is the most ruthless divorce lawyer in this city. If he finds out you're using his own colleague to file behind his back..."

​"He won't find out," I interrupted, my voice surprisingly steady. "To find out, he would have to look at me. And Julian hasn't truly looked at me since the day we said 'I do.'"

​The memory of our wedding day flashed through my mind like a jagged piece of film. It hadn't been a grand affair. It was a cold, rainy Tuesday at the courthouse. Julian had looked at his watch three times during the ceremony. I had thought he was just busy. I didn't know then that he was timing how long it would take for him to legally replace the woman he actually wanted.

​I signed my name. Lia Leighton. I didn't use his last name. I hadn't used it in my heart for months.

​"The 30-day cooling-off period starts the moment he signs the acknowledgment of service," Lewis explained, sliding the folder toward me. "But Lia, he's a hawk. He reads every line of every contract. How do you expect to get his signature without him realizing he's signing his own death warrant?"

​I tucked the folder into my bag, a bitter smile touching my lips. "Julian isn't a hawk when it comes to me, Lewis. When it comes to me, he's blind."

​I walked out of the office and straight into the lobby. My heart performed a violent somersault.

​Standing by the elevators was Julian.

​He was striking infuriatingly so. His charcoal suit was tailored to perfection, his dark hair swept back with practiced precision. He was mid-sentence, laughing at something a junior associate had said. It was a rare, genuine laugh the kind he never brought home to our dinner table.

​"Lia?"

​His laughter vanished the moment his eyes landed on me. The warmth left his face, replaced by that familiar, unreadable gaze that always made me feel like an intruder in his world.

​"What are you doing here?" he asked, stepping toward me. He didn't lean in to kiss me. He didn't even touch my arm. He stood exactly two feet away, maintaining the distance he had guarded for three years.

​"I had a consultation," I said, my hand tightening on the strap