---- Chapter 12 Harper Griffin POV: Adler froze as if he' d been electrocuted. The raw desperation in his eyes morphed into stunned disbelief. "You're lying," he whispered, shaking his head. "You're saying that to hurt me." He was right, of course. It was a lie. A necessary, brutal lie to sever the last of his tenacious hopes. | had seen the reports from the private investigator Keaton had hired. Since the day he' d received the divorce certificate, Adler had been a ghost haunting his own life, drinking himself into a stupor every night, neglecting his company, his mother, and his pregnant former-fiancée. His world had crumbled, and his obsession had fixated solely on me. It was pathetic, and dangerously unpredictable. My cheeks flushed with the heat of the lie. | was not a good liar. My face was an open book he had spent five years reading. | had to sell it. | had to make it real. "Why would | lie?" | asked, forcing a calm | didn't feel. Right on cue, as if summoned by some divine force of narrative convenience, a figure appeared at the end of the hall. ---- Keaton. He saw the scene-me, pale and trembling; Adler, looking like a man on the verge of collapse-and his expression hardened. He strode toward us, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a protective fire. He didn't hesitate. He walked straight to my side and wrapped a firm, steadying arm around my waist, pulling me into his side. "Is there a problem here?" Keaton asked, his voice deceptively mild, but his eyes, fixed on Adler, were like chips of ice. The gesture was intimate, possessive. He held me close, but | could feel the deliberate, fractional space he kept between our bodies, a silent signal that this was a performance. | played my part, leaning into his strength, letting my head rest for a moment against his shoulder. Adler stared at Keaton, his eyes widening in dawning recognition and horror. "Olson," he breathed, the name a curse. "Keaton Olson. The CEO of North Star Developments." My mind reeled. Keaton? My unassuming, kind-hearted lawyer was the head of North Star, Adler's biggest and most formidable competitor? The company Adler had spent years trying to ruin? "That's Mr. Olson to you," Keaton corrected him smoothly. He looked down at me, his expression softening into one of ---- husbandly concern. "Darling, are you alright? This man wasn't bothering you, was he?" Darling. The simple word, spoken in his low, reassuring voice, almost made me believe the lie myself. Adler looked like he was going to be physically sick. The blood drained from his face, leaving it a pasty, sickly gray. "You... with him?" he spluttered, pointing a trembling finger at us. "When? When did this start? Was it while we were still married? Was it?" The accusation was so predictable, so perfectly in character for him. He could only see the world through the warped lens of his own betrayals. | laughed, a sound of pure, unadulterated scorn. "Don't project your own disgusting habits onto everyone else, Adler," | said, my voice dripping with ice. "Unlike you, | know the meaning of loyalty." The final blow landed. Adler' s legs gave out. He sank to his knees on the cold, unforgiving floor of the hallway he now owned, a king without a kingdom. The expensive fabric of his suit trousers wrinkled and stained with the dust of his own defeat "Harper... please," he begged, his voice cracking, all pride gone. He looked up at me, his eyes swimming with tears. "Don't do this. Five years... our life together... did it mean nothing?" Seeing him there, so utterly abject, | felt a strange and terrible ---- sense of déja vu. This was me. This was me, not so long ago, begging for scraps of his affection, debasing myself fora man who held all the power. "Our five years?" | said, my voice quiet but venomous. "I'd have been better off spending them with a dog. At least a dog is capable of loyalty." | turned to leave, Keaton's arm still a warm, solid presence around me. "You brought this on yourself, Adler. Enjoy the ashes." Keaton' s hand, holding mine, was warm and steady. As | spoke of the pain Adler had inflicted, his grip tightened, a silent promise of protection, a stark contrast to the man weeping at my feet. This was real. The rest was just a bad dream | was finally waking up from.