I woke before dawn.

My sleep had been fitful and restless. I kept waking at intervals, just to lay in bed and stare at the ceiling.

For a brief, foolish second, I forgot where I was.

I forgot the headlines.

I forgot that another woman now occupied my home.

I could almost see myself in Margot Sinclair’s law firm, analyzing legal cases, preparing for trials with a team of attorneys.

Then I heard footsteps. A door slamming.

They snapped me back into reality.

I wasn’t in Margot Sinclair’s law firm. At least not yet.

I was in the Dhark mansion, with the divorce papers folded neatly on my desk.

I dragged myself out of bed and went downstairs. Lucian was already gone when I got to the kitchen.

No note.

No conversation about the divorce papers.

I made myself tea and stood by the window, watching the reporters outside the gates.

I touched the folder tucked under my arm.

My interview materials; crisp and neatly arranged. With my name typed carefully on the top of my résumé, like it still mattered.

It did matter.

Just not in this house.

I went back upstairs and laid out my clothes on the bed. It was a simple cream blouse and a pressed black skirt. Conservative and corporate.

I needed to look like someone worth taking seriously.

Like a lawyer, not just Lucian Dhark’s wife.

I was putting on my earrings when someone opened the door without knocking.

Eva walked in like my room belonged to her.

She looked at my bed, carefully studying the clothes laid out. Then she turned to me— her eyes immediately caught the folder in my hands.

Something sharp flickered in her eyes_ surprise.

She immediately masked it with a smile.

“Well, you’re up early.” She said lightly.

I didn’t reply.

She walked further into the room, looking across the space, from left to right, like she was analyzing which parts of the mansion still belonged to me.

“You seem… busy.” She sneered.

I hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I have an interview.”

Eva blinked once, then laughed.

“An interview,” she repeated slowly, her nose scrunched up with disgust. “For what, exactly?”

I didn’t answer.

Eva smiled mockingly. “Claire… you don’t think you still have a career, do you?”

My grip around my folder tightened.

“I think it’s cute you haven’t given up.” Eva said, as she walked towards my bookshelf.

She picked up one of my law textbooks, and started flipping through it with disinterest. “Law?” She turned to face me, then laughed. “Isn’t that… ambitious?”

I didn’t respond.

My quietness seemed to annoy her more than anger would.

“It must be a strange feeling,” Eva continued. “Waking up every day without anywhere you’re expected to be. Without a profession to return to when things fall apart.”

The words stung, exactly as she intended.

I swallowed, restraining myself with all my might from talking back.

I knew she wanted a reaction. I would not indulge her.

Eva started stepping closer to me. “You see, Claire, when my name trends, it’s usually because of my work. Films, awards, contracts.”

She stopped right in front of me, then looked over me slowly.

“Yours… seems to trend for other reasons.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t have to.

I knew if the interview went well, I would be free from Eva and Lucian in a matter of days.

“Anyway,” she said, suddenly bright, “I’m craving tea. Chamomile. With honey. Not too hot.”

I stared at her in disbelief.

She smiled. “You don’t mind, do you? Lucian says stress isn’t good for me.”

I stared at her, unable to speak.

She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “You see, this house has rules now. And you’ll always just be Lucian’s wife. Nothing more.”

Her eyes flicked to the ruined clothes.

“Never forget that, so you wouldn’t embarrass yourself.”

My lips parted, but before I could get any words out, Lucian appeared behind her.

He took a moment to look at the ruined clothes, Eva’s stance, my face.

His expression didn’t change.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Eva turned to face him immediately. “I asked Claire to make me tea. She must’ve rushed.”

Lucian then looked at me. His gaze was cool. Distant.

The truth was right in front of him. But it didn’t matter— I didn’t matter. Not when Eva was involved.

“Clean it up,” he said to me, frowning. “And the next time Eva gives you instructions, you obey.”

That was it.

No questions, no pause, no time for me to defend myself.

He turned and walked away.

Eva lingered for a moment longer.

“Good luck with your interview,” she whispered. “If you still have one.”

After she left, I dropped to my knees beside the bed, gathering the ruined fabric in my hands.

My throat burned, but I didn’t let the tears fall.

Not now.

I straightened my back, then reached for my folder. It was the only thing Eva hadn’t ruined.

Eva thought she’d won.

She had taken my clothes, my husband, my home— but not my resolve.

I stood to close the door, making a silent promise to myself;

This was not the end.

Not even close.