Chapter 4

I walked to the safe in the corner of the sitting room and keyed in the combination.

Spencer didn't know this code.

Because this safe was mine.

I took out two documents. Walked back into the room. Set them on the coffee table.

The first: the property title deed.

The second: the prenuptial asset declaration.

"Officer, would you like to verify these?"

I opened the deed to the key page.

Registered owner: Mara Davenport.

This house — valued at thirty million pounds — had been left to me by my father. My name had been on the deed from the beginning.

The officer's expression changed.

He turned to Spencer. "Sir. The property title is unambiguous. Ms. Davenport is the legal owner. A legal owner entering her own property does not constitute forced entry."

"Additionally, I'd advise against filing false reports. There are legal consequences."

Spencer's face disintegrated — from satisfaction to shock to something nakedly humiliated.

"Officer." I turned to Vivienne and Spencer. "As the registered owner, I'm requesting that these two individuals vacate the premises immediately."

"Spencer Caldwell. This estate was left to me by my father. You lived here for three years. Not a penny in rent." I held his gaze. "Now get out."

Vivienne bolted up the stairs toward the master bedroom.

I cut her off at the door.

Her pockets were already bulging.

I grabbed her by the hair.

"Empty your pockets."

She shrieked. "What are you doing?! These are my things! Let go of me! Spencer—"

With the officers watching, I turned out her pockets.

Two diamond necklaces. A pair of earrings.

All mine.

I hit her twice. Once from the left, once from the right.

"A thief with nerve to scream?"

Vivienne collapsed against the doorframe, hand over her face, crying.

Spencer stood at the top of the stairs. Ash-grey.

He said nothing.

He took Vivienne's arm and walked to the door.

On the threshold, he turned back.

"Mara. You'll be hearing from my lawyers. I'll take everything. You'll walk away with nothing."

Behind me, Julian was leaning against the car. He caught the word lawyers and raised an eyebrow slightly.

He murmured something to himself.

I didn't hear it clearly.

But he looked — for a moment — like someone in a good mood.

The next morning I opened my phone to Spencer's social media.

Nine photos. A grid.

All of them: Spencer and Vivienne.

Holding hands. Embracing. Clinking glasses at a restaurant. Walking on a beach.

The right person finds you when the time is right. Grateful for the woman who walked into my life. A new chapter. A new beginning.

The comment section was alive.

"Spencer finally moving on, congratulations."

"The new girlfriend is gorgeous. The previous one really wasn't on his level."

"A driven man needs a woman who understands him."

Some mutual friends sent me private messages.

"Mara, try to move on."

"You and Spencer were never right for each other."

And the most extraordinary: "Mara, stop being so difficult. You pushed away a good man."

I set the phone down.

I picked up the landline and dialled a number.

The line connected quickly.

"Ms. Davenport. This is rather early. What can I do for you?"

"Mr. Worthington. Regarding the beneficial ownership agreement for Davenport Capital's stake in CaldwellTech — we need to revisit the terms."

At two fifty in the afternoon.

Spencer walked into CaldwellTech with Vivienne on his arm, spring in his step.

He had called a mandatory meeting for all managers and above. He said he had something personal — something wonderful — to announce.

The boardroom filled.

Spencer stood at the head of the table, Vivienne beside him. He turned to the CFO first.

"Philip, I want a budget allocated for Vivienne's 'brand development package.' Route it through PR."

Philip adjusted his glasses. His expression didn't flicker.

"Spencer. The core corporate accounts have been frozen by the majority shareholder. All expenditure requires written authorisation from the controlling interest."

Spencer's smile stiffened.

"Who authorised the freeze? I run this company."

Philip didn't reply. He looked toward the boardroom door.

It opened from the outside.

I walked in.

Three people behind me: corporate counsel, the external auditors, and my executive assistant.

I was wearing a precisely tailored black suit.

Vivienne reacted first. She pulled a document from her bag and thrust it toward me, chin raised.

"Mrs. Caldwell, this is the divorce filing. Spencer has already proposed to me. Sign off and get out of the—"

I didn't look at the document.

I took a folder from my assistant and set it on the table.

The top page: the original beneficial ownership agreement from CaldwellTech's founding.

The second: a notarised shareholder structure diagram.

The projector lit up.

Mara Davenport — 45% indirect stake via Davenport Capital. 25% direct personal holding.

Total: 70%. Absolute majority.

I looked around the room.

"As majority shareholder, I am calling an emergency general meeting. First item on the agenda — the removal of Spencer Caldwell from his role as CEO of CaldwellTech."

"Those in favour, please indicate."

The room was full. Independent directors. Shareholder representatives. Senior management.

And Spencer, who had dropped into a chair across the table.

The vote came back fast — the resolution carried by an overwhelming majority.