Nora Sinclair and Sebastian Blackwood had filed for divorce ninety-nine times.

Every single time, Sebastian would wait silently during the cooling-off period, confident she would come crawling back. She would plead, and only then would he agree to withdraw the papers.

But on the hundredth filing, as Nora stood to leave, the clerk behind the desk couldn’t resist asking, "So, when are you coming back to cancel it this time?"

Nora glanced at Sebastian’s retreating figure—cold, indifferent—and steeled herself.

Not this time.

When the thirty-day waiting period ended, it would finally be over.

The wind outside the courthouse was sharp, biting into her skin. Nora stepped onto the sidewalk just in time to see Sebastian slide into his sleek black Bentley without so much as a backward glance.

She walked slowly, the hollow ache in her chest widening with every step. The cold seeped in, filling the cracks of her shattered resolve.

Then—screeching tires.

Before she could react, a hard shove sent her sprawling onto the pavement. Her knees burned, her palms stinging as they scraped against the concrete.

Through the tangle of her hair, she recognized Sebastian’s friends stumbling out of the car.

"Shit! We just hit Mrs. Blackwood!"

"Don’t call her that," someone muttered. "They’re divorcing. Sebastian hasn’t called it off yet."

Nora pushed herself up, legs trembling. Her gaze flickered to the Bentley’s half-lowered window, where Sebastian’s sharp profile was barely visible in the shadows.

One of the guys hesitated. "Should we take her to the hospital or just head to the club?"

A beat of silence. Nora’s breath hitched as she waited, her heart pounding.

"To the club." Sebastian’s voice was ice.

Those three words cut deeper than any blade.

The car roared away, exhaust fumes choking her.

Clenching her jaw, Nora forced herself to stand. She limped home, every step a fresh agony—but nothing compared to the raw, gaping wound in her chest.

The moment she stepped inside, she began packing.

She tore through their shared space, yanking out every remnant of their years together.

The diamond bracelet he’d tossed at her after a fight. The silver cufflinks she’d stolen from his dresser. The jar of a thousand handwritten notes she’d left for him over the years.

One by one, she dumped them into the trash. Then, from the depths of her drawer, she pulled out a faded envelope.

Her hands shook as she unfolded the letters inside—letters she’d found by accident, hidden in Sebastian’s safe.

"You brought coffee to my office again today. You didn’t see me watching from the window as you left."

"That blue dress you wore last night—I wish I’d been the only one to see you in it."

"Three years of you chasing me. I almost gave in last week. But I wanted to see how far you’d go."

Each line was a knife to her ribs.

If she hadn’t stumbled upon these letters, she would never have believed that Sebastian—always so cold, so detached—had ever cared for her at all.

She’d first seen him at a university gala.

Sebastian had been onstage, delivering a speech with effortless arrogance, untouchable and perfect.

One look, and she was lost.

She’d spent four years chasing him—bringing him coffee he never drank, memorizing his schedule just to "accidentally" run into him, even breaking her ankle once when she’d snuck into a closed gym to watch him play basketball.

And when they finally got together, he’d remained distant. She’d been the one to propose. She hadn’t minded.

But after three years of marriage, Sebastian had filed for divorce ninety-nine times.

The first time? Because she’d overcooked his steak.

The second? Because she’d laughed too loudly at a party.

The ninety-eighth? Because she’d texted him eleven times in a day instead of his arbitrary limit of ten.

Every. Single. Time. She had begged.

On the ninety-ninth filing, she’d spent the entire night on her knees in his study before he’d finally relented.

That same night, she’d found the letters.

All this time, he’d enjoyed watching her beg.

The next morning, Sebastian filed for divorce for the hundredth time—because she’d left a water ring on his desk.

And for the first time in seven years, Nora looked at the man she’d loved and felt nothing but exhaustion.

This time, she wouldn’t play his game.

She wiped her face roughly and turned back to her suitcase—only to freeze.

Her mother’s silver locket—the only thing she had left of her—was gone.

She tore apart the bedroom, the closet, even the bathroom. Nothing.

Then she remembered. The only other person who’d been in the study that night was Sebastian.

Clenching her fists, she grabbed her coat and headed out.

The club was pulsing with noise, laughter spilling into the hallway. She didn’t bother knocking.

Inside, Sebastian’s friends were placing bets.

"Five days max before Nora comes crawling back!"

"Three. She’s obsessed."

"One. She was literally on her knees last time!"

Sebastian sat at the center, swirling his drink, expression unreadable.

Just as someone asked, "Sebastian, what’s your guess?"—

The door slammed open.

Nora stood there, eyes blazing.

"Forever."

Just as Nora began to speak, a honeyed voice interrupted her.

“Sorry I’m late.”

Victoria Kensington glided into the room, effortlessly stealing the spotlight.

With practiced grace, she looped her arm through Sebastian’s and nestled against him, her smile saccharine.

Nora’s fingers curled into her palms as she took in their closeness, forcing herself to look away.

Victoria had been a constant shadow in Sebastian’s life—through his first girlfriend, his engagement, even his marriage to Nora.

He never pushed her away. Never set boundaries. Instead, he let her linger, blurring lines as if it meant nothing.

For years, Nora had questioned if Sebastian truly loved Victoria.

But after finding those letters, the truth was undeniable.

Victoria was just a pawn. A way to provoke Nora’s jealousy.

Sebastian enjoyed watching her unravel.

His gaze flickered to Nora standing in the doorway, and his brow furrowed. “What are you doing here?”

Her grip tightened on her bag strap. He hadn’t even heard her.

“My necklace is missing,” she said, holding his stare. “I just want to know if you’ve seen it.”

Sebastian stilled, then his expression darkened. “That’s why you came?”

“What other reason would there be?” Nora countered. “What did you think I was here for?”

A storm brewed in his eyes.

She knew that look.

It always appeared when she refused to play into the narrative he’d scripted in his head.

“Oh, that silver one?” Victoria cut in, blinking innocently. “I mentioned I liked it, so Sebastian gave it to me.” She sighed. “But I lost it on my way home.”

Nora’s vision blurred with rage. “You gave her my necklace?!”

“It’s just a piece of jewelry,” Sebastian snapped. “I’ll buy you a dozen more if it matters that much.”

“It was my mother’s!” Her voice cracked.

Silence swallowed the room.

For a fleeting second, Sebastian looked stunned—then his mask of indifference slid back into place. “It’s gone. Stop making a scene.”

Nora bit down on her lip until copper flooded her tongue.

She’d told him what it meant to her. And still, he dismissed her.

Was this what love looked like to him?

Realizing the necklace was truly lost, she spun on her heel and strode out. If she stayed, she’d shatter right there in front of them.

Behind her, a chair screeched against the floor. Sebastian stood. “We’re leaving.”

He followed her.

Outside, the wind lashed at Nora’s cheeks like shards of glass.

She kept her head down, walking fast, unwilling to let anyone see the tears she couldn’t hold back.

Then—a sharp crack above.

Before she could react, a shout rang out. “Look out!”

Her head jerked up. A massive billboard hurtled toward them.

Sebastian lunged—

Their eyes locked—

And at the last second, he veered away, throwing himself over Victoria instead.

Crash.

Agony tore through her. But worse than the pain was the humiliation.

He’d rather let her bleed than risk anyone thinking he cared.

When she woke, sterile white walls greeted her.

Nora turned her head weakly. The room was empty.

“You’re awake,” a nurse said, entering to adjust her IV. “You’ve been unconscious for two days. Luckily, it’s just a mild concussion.”

Her throat burned. “Who brought me in?”

“Your husband,” the nurse replied. “He was frantic. Covered in your blood, looked like he was about to lose his mind.” She paused. “But the second the doctor said you’d recover, he left. Said it was urgent. Strange, isn’t it?”

Nora closed her eyes and laughed, the sound hollow.

Of course he ran.

Sebastian would never let her see the truth.

Sebastian didn’t appear for days.

It was only when Nora was being discharged from the hospital that he finally showed up again.

Victoria clung to his arm, her lips curved in a smug smile.

"Honestly, Nora, you recover so quickly. I’ve always been delicate—just a little cold, and Sebastian panicked," Victoria cooed, batting her lashes. "He insisted on bringing me here for a full examination."

Nora continued packing her belongings, refusing to spare them a glance.

Sebastian’s gaze lingered on her, sharp and probing, as if trying to decipher her thoughts.

Then, abruptly, he spoke. "Perfect timing. We’ll drive you home. Victoria’s penthouse is under renovation, so she’ll be staying with us for a while."

Nora snapped her suitcase shut. "Fine."

It didn’t matter. In two weeks, the mandatory waiting period would be over, and their marriage would dissolve.

Sebastian could move in whoever he pleased. It wasn’t her concern anymore.

Her indifference visibly darkened his mood.

Back at the mansion, he made a show of doting on Victoria right in front of her—whispering in her ear, brushing strands of hair from her face.

But no matter how hard he tried to provoke her, Nora remained unfazed.

At dinner, Sebastian peeled shrimp and fed them to Victoria with deliberate tenderness.

Nora forced herself to eat, though every bite tasted like sawdust.

"Ah!" Victoria suddenly gasped, clawing at her neck. "It burns!"

Nora looked up to see angry red welts spreading across Victoria’s skin. Her breathing turned ragged.

Sebastian swept her into his arms. "Call the doctor!"

The physician arrived swiftly, diagnosing a severe peanut allergy.

Sebastian’s glare turned icy as he summoned the maid. "How many times have I told you Victoria can’t have peanuts? Who put peanut oil in the food?"

The maid wrung her hands, her eyes darting nervously to Nora. "Mrs. Blackwood instructed me to, sir. I—I didn’t dare refuse."

Nora shot to her feet, her chair screeching. "I never—"

"Please, Mrs. Blackwood, don’t lie!" the maid cried, cutting her off. "You said you couldn’t stand Miss Kensington being here. You told me to teach her a lesson!"

"Nora."

Sebastian’s voice was a blade, slicing through the tension. The room turned frigid.

He strode toward her, his polished shoes striking the marble like gunshots. "You’ve been so quiet since the divorce papers. I thought you’d finally accepted it." His gaze bore into her, ruthless. "Clearly, I was wrong."

Nora opened her mouth to protest—then froze.

A flicker of satisfaction curled at the edge of Sebastian’s lips. Brief, but unmistakable.

"If you wanted Victoria to suffer an allergic reaction…" He turned, retrieving a crystal decanter of whiskey from the bar. The bottle landed on the table with a sharp crack. "Then you should experience it too."

Nora’s blood turned to ice as her back hit the wall.

He knew. He knew she was deathly allergic to alcohol.

Two bodyguards seized her, their grip bruising.

The whiskey burned like acid, searing her throat, her stomach. She choked, tears streaming, yet somehow swallowed half the bottle.

The itching started instantly—deep, maddening, crawling beneath her skin.

Red splotches erupted across her neck, her arms. Her breath came in shallow gasps. Darkness crept at the edges of her vision.

The last thing she saw before unconsciousness took her?

Sebastian, silhouetted in the golden light, smiling.

He was smiling.

When she awoke, the bedroom was bathed in the dim glow of a single lamp.

Sebastian sat on the edge of the bed, flipping through documents. He didn’t look up until she stirred.

"Ah, you’re awake." He closed the file, voice casual. "Don’t test me again."

Nora pushed herself up, her throat raw.

She caught the fleeting relief in his eyes—and suddenly, she understood. Her chest constricted.

He didn’t care about Victoria’s allergy.

What infuriated him was her indifference. What pleased him was seeing her jealous.

Just like those locked-away letters. He thrived on her desperation.

But she was done playing.

Two more weeks.

Then, they would be free of each other forever.