HARPER
I didn't know which was more infuriating. The fact that he was standing in front of me like we were casual friends, or the damned name he kept calling me. Harper Fletcher.
I hadn't realized how much I hated that name until now. I would rather be called Harper Wilson, even though I knew it would stir the same bitterness.
"The part where I tell you to go to hell," I said.
Dominic's lips curved into a smile. "I'll happily go to hell if you'll be there with me."
I didn't find it funny. Not even a little.
He was crossing the line. Again.
Five years ago, he had done the same thing. Monitoring my every move. Controlling where I went. Suffocating me under the guise of care, leaving me with barely any room to breathe.
And now he was doing it again.
I hated it.
"I don't think you understand what it means to be divorced," I murmured, reminding him for the second time that we were no longer together.
"Divorced?" Dominic frowned down at me, tilting his head.
