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POSEY

I’m being watched.

I know that I am.

I can’t describe how, but I know that there are eyes on me that I don’t want on me. And I’m pretty sure it’s my ex-husband’s eyes… well, estranged husband. I wish that he was my ex.

What a mistake that was—marrying him.

Although it seems like the women in our family tend to do that, they make serious mistakes when it comes to men. My mother and father seemed somewhat in love, but my father was cruel. My mother was often unhappy. Maybe it wasn’t love, but whatever it was, she stayed for longer than any woman should have.

That’s why my sister ran away when she was a teenager, and that’s why I did the same the moment I turned eighteen. I lasted a few years longer than my sister, but only because I was scared to go out on my own—she wasn’t scared of shit.

And when I ran, it was, of course, with the wrong man. Then, I had a few more wrong men before I married the absolute wrong man. Now that I’m thirty-six, maybe, just maybe, I have learned my lesson… but I doubt it. I’ve just been completely single and celibate for two years straight.

And I’m not sure that means I’ve learned anything at all. I haven’t chosen a man, haven’t looked at one, and sure as hell don’t want anything to do with one. At least not yet. Not until this divorce is finalized, because if he is watching me, the last thing that I want to give that man is ammunition of any kind.

Nothing about our divorce has been finalized yet, although I’m not asking for much. I want to keep the car, a red convertible two-door Mercedez, which was technically a gift from said husband, and one that I plan on keeping.

And jewelry that were also gifts that I can sell because fuck him.

Also, I am asking for fifty thousand dollars to help me start over. Considering this man moved me into his house, left me here, and I’ve been making strokes on rent that I cannot afford and never would have even attempted to afford without him.

My savings is drained, completely .

It's been two years since I’ve set eyes on Lucian Whitmore, and I’m glad for it. I don’t even know if that’s his real name at this point. Maybe he’s not even a real person. For all I know, he’s a damn ghost.

My attorney can’t find him.

He’s been dust in the wind, but I think he’s back now, and I’m terrified at what that means.

Maybe we weren’t even legally married—that would be too good to be true, though.

My phone buzzes in my hand, and I smile down at the incoming text message. A few months ago, my niece found me. A niece that I didn’t even know existed. She’s living in the mountains of North Carolina, and all the pictures she sends me look like a dream there.

The text that comes in isn’t her typical picture of her newborn son. Instead, it’s an invitation to her wedding. Standing at the front of my car, I smile at the sight of the invite. I can’t believe she’s going to be married.

Then I hear my name being called. Lifting my head, a chill slides over my body. It’s Lucian. He’s standing across the street, his glasses pointed straight at me, and he even jerks his chin in my direction.

“Daddy’s home,” he calls out.

Oh.

Hell.

No.

And.

Ew.