Page 102 of The Devil's Pawn

After a sleepless night, I arrive at Oakleigh at five minutes to eight the next morning. I check the app that tells me Imogen’s whereabouts. She’s in my apartment.Our apartment,after I had her things moved in. I’m regretting that decision now.

I manage to make it to my office without bumping into anyone. Closing the door, I grab my latest journal and pour out my thoughts, my regrets that it’s come to this, my frustration at my inability to find a solution. My devastation at losing a woman I’ve fallen for when I never, for a single second, expected to ever fall in love.

My phone lights up with the email I’ve been waiting for. I open it and carefully read the papers. Everything’s in order. Now all I have to do is serve them to Imogen.

I print them out, marking the pages where she needs to initial or sign, then slide them into a brown envelope.

My stomach is in painful knots when I leave my office and enter the living area to find Imogen reading, so engrossed in the novel laying in her lap, she doesn’t hear me come in. I clear my throat, and she lifts her head and hits me with a dazzling smile. My chest cracks wide open.

She snaps the book closed and sets it beside her, rising to greet me. “There you are. How was last night? I missed you.”

I feel as if my heart is being torn in two; one half clinging desperately to what I have to do, the other begging me not to go through with it. But it’s too late. There’s only one way to do this: fast.

I shove the envelope at her. “I want a divorce.”

She halts abruptly, as if she’s smacked into an invisible brick wall. All the blood drains from her face, leaving her pale as chalk. “What?”

“A divorce. This isn’t working. I never should have married you.”

“But… but…” She rubs her forehead. “I don’t understand.” She lunges forward, reaching for me.

I step back. “The yellow tabs show the pages I need you to sign. You’ll find I’ve been overly generous. Now you can return to America, which is what you want, anyway.”

She shakes her head. “No. I don’t want that. I did, but I don’t any longer. Things have changed.We’vechanged. You can’t fake what we have, Alexander. You’re not that good of an actor.”

“You don’t know what I’m capable of. You only know the version of me I’ve allowed you to see. You won’t change my mind. Sign the papers, and once you have, leave them on my desk.”

She rubs her forehead, the envelope hanging loosely at her side. “I don’t understand. Two days ago, we were in London, and we were happy. Iknowwe were.”

The walls close in on me, making it difficult to draw in a full breath. I have to get out of here. The longer I stay, the closer I am to falling to my knees and telling her I don’t mean any of it. That I love her. That I want her to love me enoughto give up the things that she wants, to choose me over all of it. But I can’t.

“The matter is closed, Imogen. The jet is on standby. Steven will take you to the airport whenever you’re ready.”

I whip around and stride away, leaving her standing there with tears shining in her eyes. I take off down the stairs to the gym. When she drops off the papers at my office, I can’t be there. I’ll never survive denying what I feel a second time.

The pain as I realize I’ll never see her again crushes me. I blast through the gym doors and grab the gloves. Until she signs those divorce papers, I need to keep myself busy and out of her way, otherwise I’m at risk of relenting and confessing everything.

That would be the greatest disservice of all to the only woman I’ll ever love.

Chapter Thirty-Four

IMOGEN

If Alexander had walked into this room and punched me in the face, the shock wouldn’t be as great as it is while I clutch the divorce papers in my trembling hands.

Between the idyllic day we spent in London on Wednesday and now, something has gone horribly wrong. I refuse to believe he’s faked these last couple of weeks. I’ve watched him fall for me. And like I said to him, he isn’t that good of an actor.

Whatever his motivation is for having these papers drawn up, I amnotsigning them. He can shove it. I’ll fight for him, for us both, until he gives me a better reason thanyeah, sorry, babe, changed my mind.

Bullshit.

As my shock recedes, it’s replaced with a strong desire to throttle my husband until his eyes pop out of his head. I storm to his office. He doesnotget to drop a nuclear bomb and walk away without proper discussion.

The odd thing is that Alexander has given me what I wanted, what I plotted for since the day I arrived, yet I don’twant that any longer. I want him, and I won’t let him wreck what we have until he gives me a far better reason.

Barging through the door, I’m ready to give him a piece of my mind, except his office is empty. On his desk lies an open notebook, the same design as the rows and rows of journals, and his laptop, also open.

Alexanderneverleaves his laptop open, nor have I ever seen him leave a journal out. He mustn’t be in his right mind, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to take advantage of his momentary memory lapse.

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