“Master’s Wife, I’m sorry!” she cried, sitting down on the floor, tears brimming in her eyes. “If it will make you feel better, hit me. But your sister’s death really had nothing to do with me!”
“Seraphine, have you lost your mind?”
Lucian stormed forward, and before I could react, his palm cracked across my face.
“Ivy went out of her way to bring you your sister’s ashes, and this is how you treat her? You’re insane!”
He hauled her to her feet, his arm sliding protectively around her waist as he prepared to leave.
I pressed a hand to my stinging cheek, my breathing ragged. Then I exhaled slowly, my voice calm — too calm.
“Lucian,” I said, pulling a folded document from my bag, “let’s get a divorce.”
He froze, turning to stare at me.
“You want a divorce?”
His expression shifted — surprise first, then anger, until his face was carved with ice.
“Seraphine,” he said coldly, “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you’re only saying this because you’re grieving your sister.”
“Put that divorce agreement away,” Lucian snapped. “I won’t argue with you about this!”
I looked him straight in the eye, my face cold and unreadable.