Chapter 3 - THE WIFE WHO CAME BACKThe hallway on the twelfth floor was dead silent.
My key slipped into the lock of our apartment door with a soft, familiar click. I pushed it open. The living room was dark, lit only by the amber glow of a single glass of whiskey resting on the coffee table.
Lucas was sitting on the sofa, his head in his hands. When the door creaked, his head snapped up.
For a second, relief washed over his face, quickly replaced by a dark, toxic surge of triumph. He stood up slowly, smoothing down his shirt.
"I knew you'd come back," Lucas said, his voice dripping with condescending sweetness. "You think some billionaire businessman cares about you, Madison? He's just using you for the logistics data."
I kept my posture rigid, forcing my voice to remain even. "I forgot my bag, Lucas. I just want my things."
"Your things are wherever I decide they are," he snapped, taking a step toward me. His eyes darted to my bruised throat visible above my collar. "You embarrassed me in front of the office. You humiliated me in the garage."
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"I'm leaving, Lucas. Don't make this harder than it has to be."
He laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. "You aren't leaving. We are going to sit down, you are going to call Romano's office, and you are going to resign."
