RYAN POV
The papers were in his hand when Trevor started talking.
"Page seven," his lawyer said, tapping the stack of documents with one finger. "You need to read page seven before you sign anything. I'm serious, Ryan. This one matters."
Ryan didn't even look down. His jaw was clenched so tight his teeth hurt. Six months of fighting, six months of lawyers and negotiations and sitting across from Sarah while she looked at him like he was a stranger. He was done. Finished. Ready to burn every memory of this marriage and never think about it again.
"I'm not reading anything," Ryan said. His voice came out hard. "Just tell me where to sign."
Trevor's face went red. He was one of the few people who didn't fear Ryan Wolfe, which was why Ryan kept him around. But right now, Ryan didn't want advice. He didn't want warnings. He wanted out.
"Ryan, listen to me for one second. The infidelity clause on page seven says—"
"I don't care what it says." Ryan grabbed a pen from the desk and flipped through the pages without actually reading them. Black ink on white paper. Legalese. All the stuff that didn't matter because it was already over. Sarah had asked for the divorce. He'd agreed immediately. That was the extent of his involvement.
He signed his name on the final page with a hard scratch of the pen.
The moment his signature was complete, something shifted in his chest. Not regret. Not relief either. Just emptiness. Like he'd been holding his breath for six months and finally let it out, only to realize he'd forgotten how to breathe normally.
"Done," Ryan said, sliding the papers across his mahogany desk. "Handle it."
Trevor gathered them up with a sigh that made clear he thought Ryan was an idiot. "I warned you."
"Noted." Ryan was already turning away, already reaching for his phone. Already mentally moving on to the next thing, the next deal, the next moment that would prove he was still in control of something.
That night, he brought Amber home to the penthouse.
She was twenty-five with blonde hair that caught the light and a laugh that didn't require anything from him. She asked zero questions about his business. She didn't care that his company was his entire life. She didn't push him to be softer or kinder or more present. She just showed up, looked beautiful, and didn't demand anything he couldn't easily give.
Everything Sarah never was.
Ryan poured two glasses of expensive whiskey, the kind that cost more than most people's rent. They stood on the balcony of his penthouse, forty-five stories above Seattle. The city sprawled below them like he owned it. Lights flickering in office buildings where people were still working at 9 PM. People grinding. People fighting. People trying to build something.
He'd already built his. Wolfe Industries was worth half a billion dollars now. He had the money. The power. The respect of his industry. Everything he'd clawed toward since he was a kid with holes in his shoes watching his father walk out the door.
"It's beautiful up here," Amber said, pressing against his side.
Ryan nodded but he wasn't really thinking about the view. He was thinking about the papers he'd just signed. About being officially, legally, permanently divorced from Sarah Mitchell. About the fact that he felt absolutely nothing about it. No sadness. No regret. No relief even though he'd been waiting for this moment.
Just nothing.
"You seem sad," Amber said.
"I'm not sad." He put his arm around her because it was what she wanted. "I'm free."
That word felt important. Free. No one telling him what to do. No one asking him to come home early. No one looking at him like she could see through all his armor straight to the broken kid underneath. No one knowing him that well. No one having that much power over him.
He raised his glass to the city. To his company. To his empire. To the fact that he'd just cut the last person out of his life who actually knew who he was underneath all this.
It felt like winning.
His phone buzzed at 10:47 PM.
Trevor's name flashed on the screen. Ryan let it ring. He didn't want to hear his lawyer's voice. He didn't want warnings or complications or anything that would interrupt this feeling of finally having control again.
The call went to voicemail.
Thirty seconds later, Trevor called again.
Ryan's jaw tightened but he ignored it. Whatever it was could wait until tomorrow. Nothing was urgent enough to break into tonight. Nothing was important enough to—
His phone rang a third time.
This time it was different. Not just an incoming call, but the kind of persistent ringing that meant something was actually wrong. Ryan silenced Amber's laugh and answered.
"What?" His voice was sharp.
"We have a problem," Trevor said. No greeting. No preamble. Just those four words delivered like a punch. "A serious one. You need to come to my office right now."
"It's almost eleven at night."
"I know what time it is. And I'm telling you this is important enough that you need to be here anyway. Twenty minutes. My office. Come alone."
The line went dead.
Ryan stared at his phone while the balcony suddenly felt too small. Amber was asking him what was wrong, what happened, but her voice sounded distant. Underwater. He'd spent six months thinking the hard part was over. The fighting with Sarah. The lawyers. The negotiations. The signatures.
He'd thought winning meant signing papers and bringing home a woman who didn't know him.
But something in Trevor's voice said he'd been wrong about what winning actually meant.
"I have to go," Ryan said, already heading inside.
"Now?" Amber followed him, confused. "I thought we were—"
"I'll call you later." He grabbed his keys without looking back.
His car was downstairs. His driver knew the way to Trevor's office. And somewhere between the penthouse and that office, Ryan realized he couldn't remember the last time anything had felt like this wrong.
He'd signed something without reading it.
That thought hit him again as Seattle blurred past the car windows. He'd signed something important without reading it. His lawyer had specifically warned him about page seven. And Ryan had signed anyway because he was angry and desperate and wanted to be free from anything that reminded him of Sarah.
His phone buzzed with a text from Trevor: "You're going to want to sit down for this."
Ryan's hands went cold.
He had absolutely no idea what he'd just done, but the feeling in his stomach told him it was going to destroy everything.