Chapter 7
Ciel walked for blocks, aimlessly, the sounds of Manhattan a dull roar in her ears. She finally ducked into a small, quiet coffee shop, the warmth a welcome reprieve from the biting wind.
Dion's number was lighting up her phone screen, call after call. She switched the phone to silent and tossed it onto the table.
She picked up a copy of Vanity Fair left behind on a chair, flipping through the glossy pages without really seeing them. Until one page stopped her cold.
It was a photo from a recent charity gala. Baylie Kane was the centerpiece, smiling radiantly at the camera.
Around her neck was a necklace. A stunning, one-of-a-kind antique blue diamond necklace. "The Heart of the Sea."
Ciel's breath caught in her throat.
A year ago, at the Sotheby's spring auction, Dion had pointed to that exact necklace in the catalog. He had looked at her, a rare, almost gentle smile on his face, and said, "I'm going to get that for you. For our anniversary."
She had been foolish enough to believe him. It was a flicker of hope in the cold darkness of their marriage, a moment she had clung to.
Now, that promise was draped around the neck of the woman who was trying to destroy her.
Ciel closed the magazine, a bitter taste filling her mouth. It wasn't just a necklace. It was the last shred of a foolish dream, now publicly, cruelly, given to another.
Her phone buzzed again. This time, it was a voicemail notification from a number she recognized. Clara Sutton.
Clara was a pro bono client, a young mother Ciel had been helping escape a violent, wealthy husband. After months of painstaking work, they had built a solid case. The hearing was tomorrow.
Ciel put in her earbuds and pressed play.
Clara's voice filled her ears, thick with tears and raw terror.
"Ciel... I'm so sorry," she sobbed. "I... I have to drop the case. I filed the withdrawal papers an hour ago."
Ciel shot to her feet, knocking her coffee cup over. Hot liquid spread across the table. "What? Clara, no, what happened?" she whispered to the empty air.
The rest of the message explained everything.
Clara's abusive husband had just secured a massive new round of funding for his tech startup. The lead investor was Bolton Ventures.
He had given Clara an ultimatum: drop the domestic violence charges, or he would use his new millions to hire a team of ruthless lawyers to take her children away from her forever.
The blood in Ciel's veins turned to ice.
This was Dion.
To force her back into line, he hadn't just attacked her career. He had reached into the lives of the most vulnerable people she was trying to protect. He had used his immense power to crush a desperate woman's only hope for freedom, all as a strategic move in their marital war.
The necklace had hurt her heart.
This... this shattered her soul.
It wasn't just about love or betrayal anymore. This was about fundamental human decency. And he had none.
She wiped the spilled coffee with a napkin, her movements jerky. She left a ten-dollar bill on the table and walked out of the café, her purpose clear and sharp as a shard of glass.
She hailed a yellow taxi.
"Park Avenue and 60th," she said, giving the address of the penthouse.
She wasn't going back to surrender.
She was going back to get her passport and her birth certificate. Then, she was going to disappear.
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