Chapter 2: The Envelope on the Birthday Table
I slipped out of the kitchen just before midnight, telling Julian I needed to grab groceries for his precious feast.
He unlocked the door without a word, too confident to question me.
He thought I was broken.
He thought I would obey.
I drove straight to Darcy's penthouse.
By 2 a.m., the documents were signed.
By 6 a.m., her team had filed everything with the court.
At 11:45 a.m., I walked back through the front door of the condo — not alone.
Behind me stood Darcy in a charcoal suit, two process servers, and a building security officer.
Fiona was already seated at the decorated dining table, wearing a silk blouse, pearls around her neck, waiting for her sixty-dish feast.
Julian stood beside her, arms crossed, a smug smile spreading across his face when he heard the door open.
The smile lasted about four seconds.
"What is this?" Julian's voice cracked.
"Where is the food?"
I set a single envelope on the table in front of Fiona.
"Happy birthday," I said quietly.
Fiona's fingers trembled as she tore it open.
Her face went the color of old ash.
"Julian," she whispered.
"Julian, she's frozen the accounts.
All of them."
Julian lunged toward me.
The security officer stepped forward.
"Don't," Darcy said.
One word.
Flat and final.
Julian stopped.
May you like
For the first time in five years, he looked genuinely afraid.
But what none of them knew yet — what was inside the second envelope still in my bag — that was the part that would truly destroy them.
