I signed my name on the divorce papers with steady hands, even though my heart was shattering into a thousand pieces. Three years. Three years of being invisible in my own marriage. Three years of waiting for Damien Cross to look at me the way he looked at his phone when *she* texted. Three years of being the perfect wife to a man who could barely remember my favorite color. "Are you certain about this, Mrs. Cross?" the lawyer asked, his eyes sympathetic behind wire-rimmed glasses. I set down the pen and met his gaze. "It's Ms. Rivera now. And yes, I'm certain." The truth was, I'd never been more certain of anything in my life. Well, except for when I'd foolishly said "I do" to Damien three years ago, believing that maybe, just maybe, he could learn to love me the way I loved him. What a naive little fool I'd been. The marriage had been arranged by our families—his father and my late father had been business partners. When Dad died suddenly, leaving behind debts and a struggling company, Damien's father proposed the union as a way to merge our businesses and solve both our problems. Damien got the patents and technology my father had developed. I got financial security for my mother's medical treatments. It seemed like a fair trade at the time. I just didn't realize I'd be the only one actually trying to make the marriage work. "Mr. Cross should be here to sign his portion," the lawyer said, checking his watch for the third time. Of course Damien was late to our own divorce. Why would this be any different from every anniversary dinner, every birthday, every moment that mattered to me but not to him? The door burst open, and there he was—Damien Cross in all his devastating glory. Six-foot-three of perfectly tailored suits and cold, gray eyes. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, like he'd been running his hands through it. He probably had been. He always did that when Vanessa was upset with him. Vanessa Chen. His childhood friend. His "best friend." The woman he'd actually wanted to marry before his father forced his hand. The woman he'd never stopped loving. "Sorry I'm late," Damien said, not looking at me. He never really looked at me. "Shall we get this over with?" Something in his dismissive tone made my spine straighten. For three years, I'd made myself small, quiet, accommodating. I'd swallowed every hurt, every slight, every lonely night waiting for him to come home. But I was done shrinking. "Yes, let's," I said coolly. "I have an appointment I can't miss." That made him glance at me, surprise flickering across his face. In our entire marriage, I'd never spoken to him with anything but gentle understanding, even when he deserved my fury. He sat down across from me, and I caught a whiff of perfume that wasn't mine. Chanel No. 5. Vanessa's signature scent. Of course. The lawyer cleared his throat. "Mr. Cross, if you'll just sign here, here, and here. The settlement is quite generous, as per the prenuptial agreement. Ms. Rivera will receive—" "I don't want anything," I interrupted. Both men stared at me. "I'm waiving my rights to the settlement," I continued, my voice steady. "I don't want his money. I just want out." Damien's eyes narrowed. "What game are you playing, Aria?" A bitter laugh escaped me. "Not everything is a game, Damien. Some of us actually have principles." I turned to the lawyer. "I'll take what's legally mine from my father's company—the shares and patents that belonged to my family. Everything else, he can keep." "Aria, don't be ridiculous," Damien said, and there was something in his voice I couldn't quite identify. "The settlement is yours. You were my wife for three years." "Was I?" The words came out sharper than I intended. "Because I don't recall you treating me like a wife. More like an inconvenient roommate you occasionally had to acknowledge at social functions." His jaw tightened. "That's not fair." "You want to talk about fair?" I stood up, gathering my purse. "You spent our wedding night on the phone with Vanessa. You forgot our first anniversary because you were helping her move into her new apartment. Last month, on my birthday, you didn't come home at all because she had a bad date and needed you." "She's my friend—" "And I was your wife!" The words exploded out of me, three years of pain and frustration finally breaking free. "But I'm done competing with a ghost of what you wish you could have. Sign the papers, Damien. Set us both free." The lawyer pushed the documents toward him nervously. For a long moment, Damien just stared at them, his expression unreadable. Then he picked up the pen and signed. Just like that, it was over. I walked out of that office with my head held high, even though my vision was blurred with unshed tears. I didn't let them fall until I was in the back of the car, being driven away from the life I'd tried so hard to build. My phone buzzed with a text from my older brother, Marcus: "Did you do it?" "It's done," I typed back. "Good. Mom and I are proud of you. Come home. We have a lot to discuss." I leaned my head against the window, watching the city blur past. Home. I hadn't lived in my family home since the wedding. My mother had moved to London for better medical treatment two years ago, and Marcus had been managing what was left of our father's business from there. It was time to go home. Time to remember who Aria Rivera was before she became Damien Cross's forgotten wife. My phone buzzed again, but this time it was an email. The subject line made my breath catch: "Congratulations on Your New Position - CEO of Rivera Tech International." I opened it with shaking hands. Marcus had been working on this for months—buying back our father's patents from Cross Industries using shell companies, rebuilding Rivera Tech piece by piece. And now, he was stepping aside to let me take the helm. A slow smile spread across my face. Damien had signed away my settlement, but he'd also signed away his leverage over my family's technology. He probably hadn't even read the fine print, too eager to be free. His loss. Literally. The car pulled up to the airport, where a private jet waited. As I climbed the steps, I took one last look at the city where I'd lost myself trying to be enough for someone who would never value me. I wouldn't make that mistake again.