A minute passed.
Only when she was sure the door had clicked shut—and silence had stretched long enough to calm the wild beat of her heart—did Halle finally step out of her room.
The apartment was quiet. Empty.
Her eyes swept across the familiar, lived-in space—her sanctuary. The faint scent of her lavender candle still lingered in the air, trying to mask the storm that had just passed through.
She exhaled slowly, pressing her hand to her chest as if to steady the flurry inside her. Relief bled through her shoulders as they sagged, and she leaned lightly against the doorframe.
He was gone.
She dragged herself toward the couch and sat down, her hands running through her golden hair as she tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow was Saturday—thank God. No hospital shifts. No charting. No grueling twelve-hour rotation. Just her, a locked door, and enough time to try and figure out what the hell she was supposed to do next.
File for divorce.
The thought crossed her mind again, as it had many times over the past year.
She should have done it long ago. Right after she fled the goddamn marriage trap.
Back then, she thought running was enough. She thought putting distance between herself and the life her father had forced her into would make everything better.
But men like Zade Anderson didn't just let things go.
He had bought her.
And Halle hated herself for letting that memory sting.
Her fingers curled into fists on her lap. She had been obedient once. The good daughter. The quiet girl who bowed her head and smiled for photographs she didn't want to be in.
Never again.
No, she told herself. She wouldn't give in. Not to his money, his control, or his maddening good looks. And God—why did he have to look like that?
Her lips pressed into a bitter line.
Halle had searched him up before. More than once. Long nights when loneliness had crept in, when she questioned if what she had done was brave or foolish. She had looked up the name—Zade Anderson—and every time, she'd hit the same wall.
He wasn't just wealthy. He was powerfu. A ghost behind luxury clubs, high-end casinos, and exclusive restaurants—places inaccessible to most. Places where the rich walked in without glancing at the price tags. Where laughter sounded different because it came from people who had never known real suffering.
He owned it all, and yet his face remained hidden from the public eye. No pictures. No interviews. No scandals. Just whispers and numbers that made headlines.
That was the kind of man she'd been sold to.
Her fingers curled tighter around the phone as she sat on the edge of the bed. The screen was blank now, but her mind replayed every moment from earlier. The way he had stood in her apartment like it belonged to him. The way he had touched her waist like he had the right to. The way he had looked at her like he had never lost track of her—not even for a moment.
She stood suddenly, pacing the room in tight circles. Her heart was still beating too fast, like it hadn't fully caught up with the reality of his return. She had lived almost a year without hearing from him. A year of silence. She had assumed—hoped—that maybe he had let go and moved on.
Clearly, she had been wrong.
"Why... why why why?" she muttered under her breath, her voice thin with frustration. Her nails dug into her palms as she pressed her hands against her thighs, trying to ground herself.
She still didn't understand how it had even happened—how she, of all people, had been married off to him. She was not her father's favorite daughter. That title belonged to someone else. Her stepsister would have thrown herself at the opportunity, and everyone knew it. She was perfect in all the ways Halle was not. And yet… the marriage contract had come for Halle.
Was it punishment?
She walked into the kitchen and opened the cabinet, pulled out a glass, and filled it to the brim with cold water. She drank it in quick, greedy gulps, hoping it would do something—anything—to still the panic rising in her chest.
The clock ticked louder than usual. The walls felt too close. Her apartment, once a place of peace, now carried the lingering weight of his presence. Every corner, every shadow felt watched.
She set the glass down and leaned against the counter, her thoughts spiraling. There was no question now—she needed to leave. First thing tomorrow, she would request time off. She'd worked enough double shifts to deserve it. Her supervisor would approve it, and once that was done, she'd stay at her friend's place until she figured things out. The next steps. The legal steps. A real divorce, not just running away and hoping he'd forget.
And he would stay away. He had to.
Halle checked the locks again before heading to her bedroom. Each bolt clicked into place, but it didn't make her feel safer. Not really. She paused at the doorway, her eyes scanning the dim hallway behind her.
She shut the door and crawled into bed, pulling the blanket over herself like armor. The ceiling stared back, empty and unmoving. Her body was tired, but her mind refused to quiet.
She didn't have the luxury of drifting off the moment her head hit the pillow.
Sleep didn't come easily when the past walked into your present uninvited.
Zade haunted her. Not just his voice or the way he looked at her—but the memories. The fear. The suffocating truth that she had tried to run. Twice before the wedding. Both attempts had failed.
Only after the vows were said and the papers signed did she finally escape—but clearly, she hadn't gone far enough.
She lay there, eyes wide open in the darkness, her thoughts tangled like chains around her ankles. But eventually, exhaustion stole her away. Her body gave in before her mind did.
And for a while, everything went quiet.
—
Her alarm shattered that silence.
A loud, mechanical buzz that rattled against her bedside table like a cruel reminder of reality. She groaned, turning away from it. Morning runs were part of her routine, something that usually helped her clear her head—but today, her body refused.
She blindly reached for the phone to silence the alarm, her eyes still glued shut. Just as her hand found the screen, the device vibrated again.
A message.
She blinked, squinting against the brightness of the screen.
> "Morning, Halle. Sorry for the short notice, but Marla called in sick. Any chance you can cover the early shift today? We're short-staffed. Totally understand if you can't. Let me know." — Dr. Simms
She stared at it for a long second.
Of course. The one day she had to herself.
She let the phone fall against her chest with a soft thud, exhaling deeply through her nose. Her fingers covered her face, wiping the tiredness away, but it didn't change anything.
"Great," she muttered, dragging herself upright. "Just fucking great."
Her muscles ached. Her eyes burned. She hadn't slept nearly enough—but duty was duty. And besides, work was the one place she could disappear into without having to think too much.
She swung her legs off the bed and sat at the edge for a moment, grounding herself in the quiet hum of the morning.
It would be a long day.
She took a shower, moving on autopilot. Her limbs felt heavier than usual, as if the weight of the night still clung to her skin.
After dressing in a pair of high-waisted jeans and a soft oatmeal-colored sweater, she poured herself a bowl of cereal and sat by the window, forcing each bite down while a podcast played in the background.
Grabbing her bag and keys, she stepped out, locking the door behind her with one last glance over her shoulder. She hadn't left anything behind—but the unease followed anyway.
She walked toward the parking lot, tugging at the sleeve of her sweater with her head bowed. It wasn't until she reached her car and finally looked up that her steps faltered.
Her heart skipped.
A sleek, obsidian car was parked beside her average compact—a vehicle so clearly out of place in this modest apartment complex that it felt like a hallucination.
And then she saw him.
Zade.