Dante:
My lawyer calls at exactly 2:47 PM.
"It's done. Dissolution paperwork filed. Federal judicial review."
I'm standing at my office window watching the city below when the confirmation comes through. Riley Monroe signed my contract three hours ago. Now the legal machine is already destroying her marriage to Marcus Hale.
"How long until Hale receives notice?"
"Court messenger will deliver it by five o'clock. He'll know she's gone before he gets home."
Good. I want Marcus to walk into an empty apartment. Want him to feel the same powerlessness he made Riley feel for two years.
"And the movers?"
"Already at the Hale residence. Security is supervising. No issues so far."
I hang up and check my watch. Three more hours until Riley's old life completely ends. Three hours until Marcus realizes he lost.
The thought should satisfy me. I've been building a case against Marcus Hale for six months. Corruption. Witness tampering. Evidence manipulation. Now I have something better than a legal case.
I have his wife.
Ex-wife soon enough.
My phone buzzes. A text from the head of my moving crew with an attachment. I open it and my jaw tightens.
The photo shows Riley's belongings packed and ready. One suitcase of clothes. A box of books. That's it. Two years of marriage and she owns almost nothing.
Everything else in that apartment belongs to Marcus. The furniture. The art. The life she thought she was building.
He took everything from her piece by piece until she had nothing left.
My father did the same thing to my mother. Sold her jewelry when she tried to leave. Destroyed her paintings because art made her happy. Isolated her from friends until she had nowhere to run.
By the time she finally escaped him she was a ghost. And even after he went to prison she never fully came back. The damage was permanent.
I won't let Riley become a ghost.
The rest of the afternoon passes in phone calls and paperwork. Dissolution filings. Security protocols. Background checks on everyone who'll have access to Riley at the penthouse.
At 4:52 PM my phone rings. Unknown number.
I answer anyway. "Salvatore."
Heavy breathing on the other end. Then Marcus Hale's voice, shaking with barely controlled rage.
"Where is she?"
I smile. "You'll have to be more specific."
"Don't play games with me. Where is Riley?"
"Mrs. Salvatore is exactly where she belongs. Safe. Protected. Free."
Silence. I can practically hear Marcus's brain trying to process what I just said.
"Mrs. Salvatore? What the hell are you talking about?"
"Check your court documents. I'm sure the messenger already delivered them. Riley and I were married this afternoon. Your marriage has been dissolved through federal judicial review."
More silence. Then an explosion of fury.
"You can't do that! I'm her husband! She's MINE!"
The possessiveness in his voice makes my blood run cold. He doesn't see Riley as a person. Just property he owns.
"Not anymore. And if you attempt to contact her, approach her, or come within five hundred feet of her, I'll have you arrested. I have recordings of your threats. Photos of her bruises. Testimony ready to bury you."
"You have no idea who you're messing with, Salvatore. I have connections. Judges. Politicians. I will destroy you."
"Try it. I've been waiting for an excuse to ruin you anyway. This just makes it personal."
I hang up before he can respond. Then I forward the recording to my legal team. Evidence for the restraining order we'll file tomorrow.
My assistant knocks and enters. "The movers just arrived with Mrs. Salvatore's belongings, sir. And Mrs. Salvatore herself is in the lobby."
Mrs. Salvatore. The name sounds strange applied to Riley. She's been Mrs. Hale for two years. Now she's mine.
Not mine. The contract is business. Nothing more.
But when I meet Riley in the lobby and see how small she looks clutching her single suitcase, something in my chest tightens.
She's terrified. I can see it in every line of her body. The way she holds herself. The way her eyes dart around like she expects Marcus to appear from nowhere.
"Ready?" I ask.
She nods but doesn't speak.
We ride the elevator to the penthouse in silence. I watch her reflection in the polished doors. She's shaking slightly. Trying to hide it but failing.
The elevator opens directly into my penthouse. Riley steps out and stops.
My home is modern. Clean lines. Floor to ceiling windows. Expensive furniture that looks good but doesn't feel lived in. I'm barely here anyway. Work keeps me at the office most nights.
"This way," I say.
I lead her through the main living area toward the guest wing. She follows quietly, still clutching that suitcase like a lifeline.
The guest wing has its own entrance. I open the door and step aside so she can see.
Bedroom with a king size bed. Private bathroom with a huge tub. Sitting room with a couch and bookshelf. Everything clean and untouched because I never have guests.
"This is yours," I tell her. "Bedroom, bathroom, sitting room. You have full access to the entire penthouse except my private office. That door stays locked."
Riley sets down her suitcase. Looks around like she's waiting for the catch.
"Security will teach you the door codes tomorrow. Alarm systems. Panic buttons. Everything you need."
She turns to face me. "Panic buttons?"
"In every room. Including this one. Press any of them and my security team responds within ninety seconds."
Her green eyes go wide. "You think Marcus will try something?"
"I think Marcus is a narcissist who just lost his favorite possession. He'll try something eventually. When he does, I want you protected."
Riley wraps her arms around herself. The gesture is so defensive it makes me want to hunt down Marcus right now.
"Where do you sleep?" she asks quietly.
I point down the hall. "East wing. Other side of the penthouse."
"How far?"
The question makes my chest tighten again. She's asking how much distance she'll have. How much space between her and the man she just legally married.
"Far enough that you feel safe."
Relief flashes across her face so quickly I almost miss it. But I don't miss it. I see everything when it comes to fear. Learned to read it on my mother's face growing up.
"Riley." I wait until she looks at me. "I know what fear looks like. My father made sure of that. And I promise you I will not add to it."
Her eyes fill with tears but she blinks them away fast. "Why are you being kind to me?"
The question catches me off guard. "This is a business arrangement. Kindness has nothing to do with it."
"Then what do you call this? The separate wing. The panic buttons. Promising not to hurt me."
"I call it basic human decency."
She laughs but there's no humor in it. "I forgot what that feels like."
The words hit harder than they should. I think about my mother. About the way she flinched for years after my father went to prison. About how she never fully recovered from what he did.
I won't let Riley end up like that.
"Get some rest," I say. "We have a busy day tomorrow. Meeting with lawyers. Filing the restraining order. Press statement."
"Press statement?"
"The media will find out about our marriage. Better to control the narrative before Marcus does."
Fear crosses her face again. "What if he comes here?"
"He won't get past lobby security. And if he tries, my team will handle it."
I turn to leave but Riley's voice stops me.
"Dante?"
I look back. She's standing in the middle of her new bedroom looking lost and scared and impossibly brave for someone who's been through hell.
"Thank you. For not being him."
The words shouldn't matter. This is a contract. Business. Nothing personal.
But they do matter. More than I want to admit.
"Lock your door tonight if it makes you feel safer," I tell her. "But you won't need to. I meant what I said. On Leo's grave. I won't hurt you."
I leave before she can respond. Walk back to my side of the penthouse and close myself in my office.
My phone shows seventeen missed calls from Marcus. Good. Let him spiral.
I pull up the security feeds. The cameras show Riley's wing. She's sitting on the edge of her bed staring at nothing. Just sitting there like she can't believe this is real.
I should turn off the feed. Give her privacy. But I need to know she's safe. Need to see that she's okay.
An hour passes. Then two. Riley doesn't move from the bed.
Finally she lies down fully clothed. Stares at the ceiling. I can see her body tense. Waiting for something.
Waiting for me to break my promise.
I turn off the monitor and head to my own room. Close the door. Lie down in my own bed.
The penthouse is silent. Empty except for two people on opposite sides pretending this is normal.
I close my eyes and try to sleep. But all I see is Riley's face when she asked where I sleep. The relief when I said far away.
No woman should be relieved that her husband sleeps in a different wing.
But we're not really married. This is a contract. One year. Then she's free and I get my inheritance.
Simple.
Except nothing about Riley Monroe feels simple.