Chapter 2

The clerk's office had mostly emptied out.

A staff member slid two forms across the counter, her tone flat and rote.

"You're sure about this? There's a mandatory cooling-off period for divorce, just so you know."

I picked up the pen, didn't spare Donald a single glance, and signed my name across the form in one quick stroke.

Then I pushed it in front of him.

"Sign."

Donald kept his eyes down, staring at the paper, not moving.

The silence in the room was awful.

The clerk rapped her knuckles on the desk, impatient.

"Are you doing this or not? There are people waiting behind you."

Donald finally lifted his head, his gaze going past me, to something behind me.

I followed his eyes and turned around.

Liam stood in the doorway, breathing hard, hair a mess, shirt wrinkled, his face full of disbelief.

"Carly? What are you doing here?"

He rushed over and grabbed my wrist, his grip frighteningly tight.

"You're throwing a fit at me, and it's to come file for divorce with this man?"

His eyes darted between me and Donald, then landed on the form in my hand, and his face drained white in an instant.

"You're married? Since when? How did I not know about this?"

I shook his hand off, and the whole thing struck me as absurd.

"There's a lot you don't know."

"For instance—the bag you gave me was a fake. The necklace was a fake. Even that diamond ring you said stood for forever was moissanite."

Liam's face went from green to white and back again.

"I— I was just short on cash! Carly, I'll make it all up to you later! I swear!"

He explained in a rush, trying to grab hold of me again.

Donald stood up.

He was half a head taller than Liam, and the simple act of rising carried a heavy pressure with it.

He pulled me, panicked as I was, behind him, his voice cold enough to cut.

"Short on cash, but you can buy an '82 Romanée-Conti for your secretary?"

Liam's expression froze completely.

He clearly hadn't expected that Donald had seen that scene in the office too.

"You— the two of you—"

"We're the ones who are legally married."

Donald picked up the pen, didn't look at Liam once, and signed his name across the divorce agreement in a bold, sweeping hand.

Then he pushed the paper in front of the clerk.

"Process it."

Through the whole thing, he never looked at me again.

I stood behind him, watching the unyielding line of his profile, and my heart clenched, throb after throb.

He blamed me. He had to.

Blamed me for forgetting him, for falling for someone else, for making the first thing I did after getting my memory back dragging him here to divorce.

Liam threw himself forward like a madman.

"Carly! You can't do this to me! What about the three years we had!"

Donald blocked him with a flick of his arm and pinned him without effort.

"Three years you had?"

Donald smiled, but the smile never reached his eyes. "A relationship you built out of fakes—that gets to call itself a relationship?"

Each word landed square on Liam's weakest spot.

"When she was in that car accident, lying in a hospital bed, unconscious—where were you?"

"When she forgot everything and was terrified of the world like a child—where were you then?"

"You just slipped in while she was down and helped yourself to a bargain."

Liam had nothing to say to that, his face flushing a dark, ugly red.

The clerk finished the paperwork and handed over two dark green divorce certificates.

"All done."

Donald took them, passed one to me, and put the other away.

From start to finish, his expression never changed at all.

He turned and walked away, without a trace of reluctance.

I gripped that brand-new certificate, and it felt like a joke.

Three years ago, I had wanted, more than anything, to marry him.

Three years later, I was the one who dragged him here and ended it all with my own hands.

Liam was still off to the side, yelling in bitter defiance.

"Carly, you'll regret this! You think this man is any good? He's a liar!"

I ignored him and went out after Donald.

His car was still parked where he'd left it, and he was leaning against the door, smoking.

When he saw me come out, he stubbed out the cigarette.

"I'll drive you home."

"Home where?"

I looked at him.

He paused, as if he didn't catch my meaning.

"Liam's place—isn't that where you live?"

"Not anymore."

I tossed the ring of keys to Liam's apartment into the trash can beside me. "Him and me, we're square now."