---- Chapter 5 Harper Griffin POV: The days after my escape were a blur of sterile hospital rooms and hushed conversations with lawyers and doctors. | didn't return to Adler's mansion. | didn't return to the life that had been a gilded cage. | checked my parents into the best private care facility money could buy, a quiet, sun-drenched sanctuary on a neighboring island, far from the reach of the Irwin name. Then, | got to work. My world, once centered entirely around Adler's moods and desires, now revolved around two things: the stack of divorce papers that needed signing and the mountain of files related to the Griffin Architectural Firm-my parents' legacy, a legacy | had carelessly abandoned. Sitting in the quiet solitude of a luxury hotel suite, surrounded by financial reports and legal documents, | felt a sense of peace | hadn't known in years. It was the satisfying ache of purpose, the clean exhaustion of productive work. My universe had a new sun, and it was my own ambition. My phone, a new one with a new number, stayed mostly silent. My old life had been filled with a constant barrage of messages and calls, all related to Adler's social schedule, his business dinners, his whims. Now, the silence was a balm. He ---- hadn't tried to reach me on the landline before | left, and | knew why. In his mind, my disappearance was a tantrum. He was waiting for me to come crawling back, as Juliana had predicted. He was giving me space to "learn my lesson." With a sense of finality, | went through my new phone's contacts. | deleted every photo, every message, every trace of him and his family. My finger hovered over his name. | didn't delete it. | simply blocked the number. A practical measure, in case my legal team needed it. There was no pain, no nostalgia. It was like archiving a dead file. The day | boarded the plane to join my parents, my lawyer, Keaton Olson, sent the finalized, signed divorce papers via courier to Adler's office. "Are you sure about the timing?" Keaton had asked over the phone, a hint of concern in his professional tone. "This will come as a shock. He might react unpredictably." | smiled, looking out the airplane window at the clouds below. "He won't see it as a divorce, Keaton. He'll see it as a negotiation tactic. He'll think I'm raising the stakes to get a better apology." | knew Adler better than he knew himself. His ego wouldn't allow him to believe | could actually leave him. Adler Irwin POV: The thick parchment of the divorce papers felt alien in my hands. The words swam before my eyes, nonsensical. Divorce. ---- Harper wanted a divorce. It was absurd. A joke. Another one of her dramatic, attention- seeking games. | dialed her number. It went straight to voicemail. | tried again. And again. The same robotic female voice answered every time. A flicker of unease, cold and unfamiliar, stirred in my gut. She had always answered on the first ring. "What's that, darling?" Juliana's voice purred from the doorway of my office. She carried a tray with two cups of coffee, her smile bright and possessive. She caught sight of the papers in my hand, and her smile widened into a triumphant smirk. "Is that what | think it is? Finally." "She's playing games," | snapped, tossing the papers onto my desk. The motion was more aggressive than | intended. "She'll be back." But I'd never had to tell myself that before. I'd never had to convince myself. I'd always just known. "Of course she will," Juliana said, setting the coffee down. "Where else would she go?" She handed me a cup. | took a sip, and the scalding liquid burned my tongue. | swore, dropping the cup. It shattered on the marble floor, hot coffee splashing onto Juliana''s bare leg. She yelped in surprise and pain. ---- "Idiot!" | roared, not at myself, but at her. "You know | take my coffee with two sugars and cream! And it needs to cool for exactly three minutes! Three! How many times do | have to tell you?" Juliana stared at me, her eyes wide with shock and hurt. "But... Harper always made your coffee..." The name hung in the air between us, an accusation. Harper. Yes, Harper had always known. She knew my exact preferences for everything, from the temperature of my coffee to the precise knot of my tie. She had made it her life's work to know me, to please me. A sudden, sharp image flashed in my mind: Harper, huddled and feverish in the dark basement. I'd punished her, yes. She deserved it for her disobedience. But | had left the door unlocked. | had planned to go down there that evening, to offer a stern but forgiving hand, to bring her back into the fold. But she was gone. My heart gave a painful thud. This wasn't a game. The silence from her phone, the cold finality of the legal documents... this was different. "Find her," | barked at my assistant over the intercom. "I don't care what it takes. Find out where Harper is. Now."