der her cheekbones. Jordan Stephenson hadn't come home all night. She sat at the heavy mahogany

dence: hotel receipts billed to offshore accounts, flight manifests, and grainy but undeniable photos from a pri

t all those years ago, Jordan blamed Courtney for her

in the Stephenson household for five y

top, her phone, lying face down on the des

he reached for it. It was a

ly. It was her own locket, the one she had gifted to Jordan years ago. She remembered how deeply moved he had been

gle line of text: Oops, acc

lips. Her fingers flew across the screen as she typed a ruthless reply: Keep the trash. I'm done with both o

ted divorce petition. The sender was a top-tier lawyer she had asked Hayes Rich to help

the prenuptial agreement you signed with Jordan, the assets you are entitled to are extremely limit

om, her eyes dropping to the divorce petition on the sc

downfall, the house had been severely damaged in a devastating fire. Later, she and Jordan ha

n the quiet study. When it was finished, she carefully gathered the pages, p

m, her peripheral vision caught a glimpse

he man's features were soft, his eyes filled with a gentle, loving smile as he looke

she knew the truth. Her marriage to Jordan Stephenson was alread