Grandma Hawthorne stared at her for a long moment, letting the weight of Charlottes words settle in. Finally, she met her gaze. When you made that deal with me, this isnt what we agreed upon. What is ityoure regretting it now?

Yes. She regretted every bit of it.

Charlotte lowered her eyes, willing herself not to let the sting behind them spill over. Ive disappointed you.

Grandma Hawthorne shut her eyes with a measured sigh. Enough, she said, the resignation in her voice heavy. If you want a divorce, then divorce him. I gave you your chance. If you couldnt make Julian fall in love with you, then the Hawthorne family owes you nothing more.

An ache spread across Charlottes chest, a dull, suffocating weight. She forced a brittle laugh, her voice catching. Thank you.

Back at Tranquilstead Court.

The encounter couldnt have been more ill-timed. Right in the lobby, she ran straight into Claire and her sonaccompanied by Julian.

Theyd come back in Julians car.

Charlotte froze, her body unresponsive for a long, mortifying moment.

Claire looked genuinely surprised, directing her gaze toward Charlotte. Dr. Sheridan? You live here at Tranquilstead Court too?

Instinctively, Charlottes eyes darted to Julian.

But Julian didnt spare her even the faintest reaction. His stoic calm was like a blade, lodged deep where it hurt most.

Tranquilstead Court wasnt just any complex. It was a luxurious residential enclave in Crownridge, part of the prestigious Hawthorne Group portfolio. This apartmentJulian had called it part of her compensation.

The proximity to the hospital had been practical; she had taken it without much thought.

She hadnt realized he would bring Claire and her child here too.

How eager he must have been

Yes, what a coincidence, Charlotte said, biting back the bitterness and smothering it beneath a porcelain exterior. She had just turned to leave when Claires voice broke in again.

Dr. Sheridan, I heard youre married? Why dont we ever see your husband?

Charlotte froze mid-step, the question hitting like cold iron against her nerves.

Husband?

Her gaze shifted slightly, brushing past Claire and landing squarely on Julian.

A shadow flickered across his eyes, dark and fleeting.

Charlotte let a bitter laugh stir quietly within her. Just look at him. How desperate he was to hide their connection from Claire.

Her voice was calm, indifferent as she spoke. I dont have a husband.

For a moment, Julians ever-composed expression faltered, a faint shade of something darker clouding his features.

No husband? Claire pressed on, confusion laced into her polite smile. But arent you married, Dr. Sheridan?

Married. Yes, legally.

On her hospital file, she had marked herself as married. But no one, not a single soul, had ever laid eyes on her so-called husband.

Charlotte offered a faint, cynical smile and shrugged. Just something I put on the form. I dont have a husband.

No husband.

Julians gaze narrowed, the sharp, predatory gleam in his eyes a testament to the audacity of her words.

But what did it matter now? She had resigned from the hospital; her decision to leave was final. The charade of withholding their marriage was tiresome, and she was done pretending.

Without another glance at the three standing behind her, Charlotte walked briskly into the building, her back straight, her feet steady.

Later that night.

Charlotte methodically packed up everything she owned. Two large suitcases held all that mattered now, stowed neatly in the walk-in closet.

Her eyes landed on a wedding photograph propped on the dresserone of the few they had ever taken together. She in her gown, shimmering white, her arm tucked under his. She was smiling, radiant with hope, while Julian stood stiffly at her side, his face stoic, distant.

Back then, shed thought it was simply his nature, his aloofness. That he wasnt someone who smiled easily.

How na?ve she had been. There was no shortage to his smilesonly she had never been worthy of them.

Lifting the frame, she traced the photograph one last time. Then, with unflinching determination, she tossed it into a cardboard box. This, along with other relics of their fractured union, would remain sealed away, abandoned in the closet.

Emerging from the bedroom, she heard the faint clatter of movement in the living room.

She knew it was Julian.

Charlotte walked out to find him by the door, hanging up his jacket and slipping off his shoes. His movements carried the same precision they always had, composed and detached.

Summoning a steady breath, Charlotte approached him. Are you not going to explain what happened today?

He didnt have to ask what she meant. He knew.

Julian pulled loose his tie, his expression a study in indifference. Explain what?

About Claire and her son. Why theyre living in Tranquilstead Court.

Tranquilstead Court is close to the hospital, he replied, his tone inflected with a faint edge of impatience. You live here. So why shouldnt they?

The matter-of-fact way he said it made her stomach twist. She watched as he draped his tie over his arm, his eyes colder than the night air outside.

Charlotte, he said slowly, deliberately. Youve already gotten what you wanted. Dont push it.

Her breath caught in her throat as the blow landed. What she wanted. That was all hed ever thought of hera grasping opportunist, snatching at whatever she could from the Hawthorne name.

Of course, in his eyes, it was petty of her to feel wounded by Claire and her child moving into the same building. Petty to feel slighted at all.

He turned to head toward his room, but her voice stopped him: We need to talk.

A flicker of irritation crossed his face as he paused, turning back with a long-suffering look. What is it now?

Charlottes voice barely wavered as she slid the wedding band off her finger, holding it tightly in her palm. Lets get a divorce.

His expression shifted as her next words followed, quiet but resolute: Ill set you free.