Chapter 2

"Ms. Vance, we can execute the sale of your shares immediately, but there's a catch," my lawyer, Arthur Pendelton, said over the phone. His voice was calm. "In the documents you signed three days ago, there was a spousal lock-up clause. As long as you remain married, any unilateral transfer of your thirty-four percent stake requires your husband's signature."

Three days ago.

The day we got married. When we walked out of the courthouse, Julian held my hand, smiled, and handed me a stack of papers, saying they were for a joint bank account.

I signed them. Seven years of absolute trust meant I didn't even read a single line.

"Then start the divorce proceedings first to break the lock-up."

"He's currently claiming amnesia. The hospital can't issue a mental capacity evaluation yet. If the court buys his amnesia act, the lawsuit could drag on for over six months."

Using marriage to lock my shares, and amnesia to stall the divorce.

It was a perfect trap.

I hung up and walked down the hallway toward the elevator.

The hospital room door wasn't fully closed. Seraphina’s sweet, giggling voice drifted out.

"Julian, I made some organic bone broth for you. Let me feed you—"

"Seraphina, come sit closer to me."

Julian's voice was sickeningly gentle. In the seven years we’d been together, the sweetest he’d ever sounded was on the night the company went public. He got drunk and mumbled "Clara" just once.

Only once.

By the door, his assistant, Carter Hayes, saw me. He quickly put his phone away and stood up straight.

"Mrs... Ms. Vance, are you leaving?"

The title had changed.

From "Mrs. Sterling" to "Ms. Vance," it only took an afternoon.

"When did he start planning this?" I asked.

Carter didn't answer. His eyes darted to the corner of the wall.

"The lock-up agreement on our wedding day—you prepared it for him, didn't you?"

Carter’s Adam’s apple bobbed. "Mr. Sterling asked me to prepare the files. I was just doing my..."

"When did Seraphina get to the hospital?"

"..."

"Her Snapchat Story was posted twenty minutes before Julian even woke up. The location tag is this exact building."

I thrust my phone in front of his face.

The photo was taken from inside the hospital room. A thermos, a half-peeled apple, and Julian’s side profile.

The caption read: [Watching over you.]

There were over thirty comments underneath, all offering congratulations.

The pinned reply was from Julian's account, timestamped three hours ago—when he was still on the operating table.

A scheduled post.

Carter’s face went pale.

I put my phone away and didn't press further. I turned, walked to the elevator, and pressed the button for the lobby.

Just as the doors were about to slide shut, a hand blocked them from the outside.

Seraphina.

She was holding an empty thermos. Seeing me, she looked taken aback, then her eyes instantly pooled with tears.

"Oh, you're still here?"

Her tone carried a perfect touch of confusion, like a polite host asking an unwelcome guest to leave.

"Clara, I don't want to be rude, but Julian really doesn't remember you. Your presence is only going to stress him out."

I didn't reply.

My eyes fell on her wrist.

That watch. Platinum strap, sapphire dial. I had ordered it from Geneva last month, and it hadn't even officially hit the domestic market yet.

"The watch on your wrist is mine."

Seraphina looked down, her smile unfaltering.

"Julian gave it to me. He said it was a souvenir from Switzerland. You must have mistaken it."

"The invoice and custom order number are in my email. It’s a custom piece with a unique global serial number."

Seraphina's eyelashes fluttered.

But she quickly sighed, reaching out to gently squeeze my wrist. Her fingers were cold.

"Clara, I understand how you feel. It’s devastating to be forgotten by the man you love."

"But clinging to a watch like this... it just makes you look so..."

She didn't say the word "pathetic," but her face said it all.

A nurse wheeled a cart past us in the hallway, glancing over with sympathy.

The sympathy was for Seraphina.

Not me.

The elevator reached the ground floor. The doors slid open.

I pulled my hand from her grip and walked out.

I paused after two steps.

"Tell Julian that the biometric key for the core system refreshes every seventy-two hours. The last refresh was three days ago."

Silence fell behind me.

Seraphina’s soft, pitying voice chased after me.

"Clara, I don't really understand all that tech jargon."

"That’s fine. He does."