Chapter 3

When I got home, I collapsed straight onto the bed.

The warmth of the blankets slowly chased away the chill in my bones.

Exhaustion crept in like a tidal wave.

Drifting in and out of sleep, my mind wandered back to when Logan and I first started dating.

Back then, I was nobody in the field.

All I could get were petty neighborhood disputes, messy divorces, or squabbling business partners.

He was always terrified someone would retaliate against me.

Every time I went into a tense room, he stayed right by my side.

Back then, he held my hand and swore:

"Sierra, just do what you love. I'll always have your back."

And he kept his word. Whenever things got sketchy, he put himself between me and danger without a second thought.

Later, when I launched my own negotiation consultancy, he worked alongside me, handling logistics and smoothing over headaches.

I thought we would be like that forever.

Until Chloe, his childhood crush, came back from abroad.

Logan became a completely different person.

He would ditch half-prepared case files just to drive Chloe home across town.

He brought her to my office again and again, leading to several of my confidential client files being damaged or misplaced.

Yet because she always wore that sweet smile and called me "big sister," I held my tongue to keep the peace.

Behind closed doors, though, Logan and I had fought about her endlessly.

He always took her side, pointing fingers at me.

As if I were the unreasonable, heartless villain.

Even so, I held onto the naive belief that when romantic love fades, basic decency remains.

Seven years together, five years married.

We were supposed to be an inseparable part of each other's lives.

It was only when he stabbed me in the back today that I finally woke up.

For most people, love doesn't quietly fade into peace.

It rots into resentment, slowly erasing every beautiful memory, until the person you loved becomes someone you can't even stand to look at.

When I opened my eyes, my mind was crystal clear: I was divorcing Logan.

What I didn't expect was that he was already stomping all over my bottom line again.

Having made the decision, I couldn't wait a single second longer to get it done.

I reached for my phone to call him.

Right at that moment, I froze.

Something felt wrong.

I stopped moving and held my breath.

There were noises coming from downstairs. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

A second later, I tried to calm myself down.

Maybe I was being paranoid. Maybe it was just Logan coming home.

This was a gated, high-end neighborhood with tight security; break-ins were practically unheard of.

Reassuring myself, I nervously pushed open the bedroom door.

The moment I looked down from the landing, I stopped dead in my tracks.

When we hit it big, Logan and I bought this luxury two-story loft.

The first floor was designed specifically as an open-concept lounge for hosting clients and entertaining guests.

That floor held so many milestones of my career.

I had hosted countless high-profile guests and celebratory dinners down there.

Yet for the very first time, the entire floor was buzzing with laughter and chatter, while I, the actual homeowner, had no clue what was happening.

Standing right in the center of the crowd were Logan and Chloe—basking in the spotlight as if they were the true lord and lady of the manor.

Thankfully, one of my close friends in the crowd spotted me on the stairs.

She called out, "Sierra! You're awake! Get down here, we're all waiting for you!"

I noticed instantly that the second she spoke, the smiles on Logan's and Chloe's faces froze solid.

Though completely bewildered, I composed myself and walked downstairs.

Let's see what kind of game these two clowns are playing now.

I didn't have to wait long.

The moment I stepped off the stairs, Logan rushed over under the guise of welcoming me, leaning in so only the two of us could hear:

"Sierra, as long as you help build connections for Chloe's career, I'll grant you three unconditional favors."

I nodded slowly, letting the realization sink in.

So he invited all these industry heavyweights under my name just to pave the runway for Chloe.

If I were Chloe, I might have found it terribly romantic.

Too bad I was Sierra.

Aside from pure fury, all I wanted to do was slap his face off.

Who the hell gave him the right? Where did he get the audacity?

And did he really think his promises were worth anything?

A dishonest man's promise is the cheapest garbage on the planet.

I cursed him a hundred times in my head. But looking at the eager, expectant look on his face, I curled my lips into a smile.

"Sure."