Aria's pov.

Marcel’s eyes widened at my words, but he quickly masked it.

"Here's a list of everything I own. You can take your pick, including this penthouse and at least…."

"I don’t want anything from you," I said, cutting him off.

I picked up the pen and signed the papers before I could change my mind. My chest felt tight, my heart was breaking into a million pieces, but I didn’t let it show. He looked surprised, maybe even confused, but I wasn’t going to stay long enough to figure it out.

He had already been gone in all the ways that mattered.

I stood by him for five years as his wife, and three years before that as his girlfriend. Eight years. And this is how it ends with him cheating and handing me a list like it could make up for everything.

No. He didn’t deserve my tears.

I stood up. “I’ll be leaving today, Mr. King.”

I didn’t wait for a response. I walked out of his office, shut the door behind me, and headed upstairs. My steps felt heavy, like I was carrying every moment we ever shared.

I took a quick shower, packed just one box and when I came back downstairs, his office door was still closed.

Should I go in there and tell him I don’t want a divorce? That we could try therapy? That I didn’t want my baby growing up without a father?

“Ma’am,” Ms. Potts called out gently behind me.

“Hi…..is he still inside?” I asked, pointing toward his office door. If he was still here, maybe we could talk. Maybe we could fix this.

But her answer only broke my heart more.

“No, he left when you went upstairs. Said it was a work emergency.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. That was it then...... another work emergency the fact that our marriage was falling apart wasn't an emergency.

I reached for the handle of my box, pulled off my wedding ring, and handed it to Ms. Potts.

“Take care of yourself,” I said softly, and then walked out of the house.

I checked into a hotel later that afternoon. I needed to breathe. Think. Figure out what happens when an eight-year relationship just…..ends.

I thought about calling my best friend, Taylor. But she was on vacation in Mexico. With the time difference, she was probably sleeping. I didn’t want to bother her. Not yet.

Over the years of being married to a billionaire, I’d been put on an allowance I barely touched. Back when we first got married, I used to have a business in school that money sat in my account untouched too.

I wasn’t one of those proud women who’d return everything their ex gave them. I had a baby on the way. I needed every cent.

I looked at the clock. It had been over two hours since I ordered room service. Not that I had much of an appetite, but I knew I had to eat.

I picked up the phone to call the front desk, but the line wasn’t connecting. With a sigh, I slipped on my shoes and headed down to the lobby.

“Hi,” I said to the woman at the front desk. “I ordered food to my room a while ago, but I haven’t….”

My words faded as my eyes landed on the entrance….and my heart dropped.

There he was.

Marcel.

He stood by the curb, opening the door of a car for a woman. Not the one from yesterday. Someone else. Someone new.

I froze.

What the hell?

How long has this been going on? How many women had there been?

I knew I shouldn’t care. I knew I had no right to feel angry ….not anymore. But the truth is, no one could see something like that and not feel something. Not after everything we'd been through.

Before I could stop myself, I was already walking toward him. My feet just moved on its on and suddenly, I was standing right in front of him.

Without thinking, I raised my hand and slapped him. His face snapped to the side from the force.

“You are a disgusting piece of shit,” I said, my voice shaking. “I can’t believe I wasted my life on you.”

He finally turned to face me, and the moment our eyes met, I froze.

My steps faltered.

“Your…..your eyes,” I whispered.

My breath caught in my throat.

He didn’t wear contacts. He never had. Right?

I stepped back, but he grabbed my wrist. His grip was tight, I tried pulling away but he didn’t let go. Without saying a word, he dragged me toward a side alley next to the hotel. My heart was pounding so loud I could hear it in my ears.

“Let go of me!” I twisted, tried to break free, but he was too strong.

When we stopped, I turned to look at him properly.

Marcel had tattoos on his neck, peeking out from under his shirt. But this man’s neck was bare.

I stared at his face again. It looked like my husband. I knew that face , I wasn’t blind. But the longer I looked, the more things felt off. His body was leaner. Just a little smaller. His presence was different.

Something in me pulled back. A cold rush moved down my spine.

“You’re not… you’re not my husband,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

He smiled.

But it wasn’t Marcel’s smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. It was cold. Empty.

“Hi there,” he said softly "and thank you for not interrupting my session last night”

My heart sank, his words echoed in my head.

“It was you last night…so my husband didn’t....”

before I could finish, he grabbed the metal rod lying on a dumpster and swung it at me....pain exploded at the side of my head

A loud crack rang in my ears. I staggered, the room tilting, my fingers reaching for something to hold. There was nothing.

Heat slid down my temple. I touched it. My hand came back slick and wet. Blood.

The metallic taste of it touched my lips as I tried to breathe.

I lifted my gaze. His eyes were locked on me, wild and shining. He raised the metal again, lips curled in a cruel smile, and swung.

The sound of the blow roared louder than my thoughts.

My knees gave out. The world tilted and then everything went black.