Chapter 1

I signed the last stroke of my name on the divorce papers, and the tip of the pen tore through the page—the way it felt like it was tearing through three years of marriage.

Adrian Locke wore his usual sneer as he slid the agreement into a folder, like it was some priceless contract.

“Nora, the house is yours. The car is yours. And there’s five million dollars in the account. That’s enough to keep you comfortable for the rest of your life.”

He looked down at me, his tone that of a man handing out charity. “Don’t try any more games. As of today, we’re even.”

I kept my eyes lowered and said nothing.

He hated it when I went quiet like that. His brow furrowed with impatience. “What, not enough? Or can’t you bear to let me go?”

He bent down and pinched my chin between cold fingertips, forcing my head up.

That face I’d loved for ten years was full of impatience and contempt.

“Spare me the pitiful look. You were the one who had to marry me, and now you’re the one who has to divorce me. Nora, stop hoping you’ll ever get anything else out of me. Especially not feelings.”

And then, without any warning at all, a line of blood-red numbers flashed in front of my eyes:

[71:59:59]

I froze.

My heart seized, like an invisible hand had clamped around it and squeezed.

Adrian assumed I was stunned by what he’d said. Satisfied, he let go and straightened up.

He could read my mind. But he could only hear the very surface of it—only the feelings that had to do with him.

Right now, he was probably hearing the tidal wave of shock crashing through my head, and taking every bit of it for heartbreak over losing him.

He gave a soft scoff, and the smugness practically spilled out of his eyes.

“All right, you can stop acting. I know you’re crazy in love with me. I know you can’t live without me.”

He adjusted his very expensive cufflinks and offered me a bit of condescending comfort. “Just live a good life from now on, and stop bothering me.”

He turned to leave, and I suddenly caught him by the wrist.

He looked back, the disgust in his eyes so thick it was almost solid.

[I only have three days left…]

[These hands have held Sienna, haven’t they?]

[God, I’d love to punch him.]

All he heard was some twisted version of that last line: I want to touch him one more time.

His expression went strange, disgust mixed with a self-satisfaction he couldn’t quite hide.

“Nora, have you no shame?”

I looked at him and suddenly smiled.

That’s right. I only had three days to live.

What use did I have for shame?

Chapter 1

“Adrian. We’re even?”

I asked it softly, while my fingers tightened inch by inch around his wrist until it hurt.

He frowned and tried to pull free, and discovered I was surprisingly strong.

“What’s wrong with you? Let go!”

I ignored him. With my other hand, I picked up the fountain pen from the desk, and my eyes moved slowly over that absurdly handsome face.

That face had been the dream of my entire youth.

Now it was nothing but a joke.

[On our third anniversary, he was in Paris watching fashion shows with his first love, Sienna.]

[I had a raging fever and called him. Sienna picked up. She said, “Adrian’s in the shower. Do you need something?”]

[When my parents were in the car accident, I begged him to find the best doctors. He said Sienna’s dog was lost, and he had to help her find it first.]

One by one, every memory played back in my head in slow motion, like a film.

He couldn’t hear any of that.

All he could hear was the tangle of love and hate churning up through my memories, all of it wrapped around his name.

[I love him so much.]

[No. I hate him so much.]

[I want him to feel what these three years felt like.]

To him, those jumbled thoughts were the sweetest love song in the world.

The irritation in his eyes gave way to a kind of twisted satisfaction.

“Nora, I know you can’t let me go.”

He turned his hand around to hold mine and softened his voice a little, with all the pity of someone looking down from very high up. “But we’re finished. Even if you begged me right now, I wouldn’t come back.”

Beg you?

I laughed.

The next second, I swung my fist up with everything I had and slammed it into his sharp, perfect jawline.

There was a dull crack.

Adrian staggered sideways, completely stunned.

He stared at me in disbelief, like I was some monster that had appeared out of thin air.

“You… you hit me?”

I shook out my stinging hand. It felt fantastic.

All the resentment I’d been storing up for three years had finally found a way out, in that one punch.

“Adrian, that one was for my parents.”

My voice was calm, absurdly calm. “They wanted to see you before they died, and you were out helping another woman look for her dog.”

He clutched his face, his eyes dark enough to drip venom. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“And this one—” I swung again, this time into his stomach.

He grunted and doubled over.

[Finally got to hit his abs. They feel really nice.]

His whole body went stiff. He’d obviously heard that.

His expression shifted from rage to the most profound confusion and disbelief.

He was probably thinking, This woman is insane. She’s punching me and still savoring my abs?

She really is hopelessly in love with me.

“That one was for me.”

I pulled my hand back and looked at him in pain, and I didn’t feel even a little triumphant. Just a vast, hollow sadness.

“Three years of marriage, and I could count on my fingers the number of times you came home. I cooked for you. I took care of everything in that house for you. I gave up my career and my dreams for you. And what I got back was betrayal and humiliation, over and over.”

I looked at him and said it slowly, every word. “Adrian, as of today, I don’t love you anymore.”

Then I turned and left without another glance.

The countdown was still ticking in front of my eyes: [71:48:12].

Time was precious. I couldn’t afford to waste it on him.

Behind me came his voice, choked with rage and something else, something strange. “Nora! Get back here! You think this is going to get my attention? Let me tell you, it’s not going to work!”

I waved over my shoulder without turning around.

Goodbye, Adrian.

The “rest of my life” wasn’t going to be that long.