The Secret Parrish Heiress Strikes Back

The click of the lock was loud in the silence of the penthouse.

Elinor stood up from the sofa, the silk of her robe brushing against her legs. She had waited for him. She always waited. It was past midnight, and the cold leather of the couch had long since seeped through her clothes, chilling her to the bone.

The front door swung open. Dempsey Everett walked in, bringing the chill of the November night with him. And something else. A cloying, sweet scent of jasmine and musk that clung to the collar of his expensive wool coat. It was not her perfume. It was never her perfume.

He didn't look at her. He just walked past, tossing his keys on the console table with a sharp clatter.

Elinor swallowed the bitter taste rising in her throat. She pushed down the familiar ache in her chest and smoothed her expression into the mask she had worn for three years. "You're late," she said softly, moving toward the kitchen. "I'll make you some hangover soup. You must be tired."

"Stop."

His voice cut through the air like a blade. Dempsey stopped walking. He didn't turn around. He just raised a hand, a casual flick of the wrist that halted her in her tracks. There was no warmth in his posture. No trace of the man who had once smiled at her across a crowded room.

He turned slowly. His eyes, a cold, piercing gray, swept over her. He looked at her the way he looked at a piece of furniture that had scratched the floor. Annoyed. Dismissive.

He reached into his leather briefcase. With a motion so casual it was insulting, he pulled out a thick stack of paper and tossed it onto the mahogany coffee table.

The impact was a dull thud in the quiet room.

Elinor stared at the document. The bold black letters on the cover stared back. DIVORCE AGREEMENT. The air vanished from her lungs. Her chest tightened, a physical vise crushing her ribs.

Dempsey loosened his tie with one hand, his gaze drifting to the city lights outside the window. "Darcy is back," he said. His tone was flat, businesslike, like he was discussing a merger. "Sign it."

Darcy is back. Four words. Four words that erased three years of her life. Three years of waiting up. Three years of smiling through the humiliation. Three years of being the invisible wife.

Elinor's fingers trembled as she reached for the document. The paper was heavy, expensive, cold against her skin. She flipped to the first page. The terms were brutal. A complete wipeout. She would leave with nothing but the clothes on her back and the meager stipend outlined in the prenup. A payoff for her time.

"It's generous," Dempsey said, misinterpreting her silence. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, then seemed to think better of it and put it away. "More than enough to keep you comfortable for the rest of your life. Don't get