Vicky claimed her penthouse needed renovations after her return. That’s how she ended up in our guest suite—temporarily, of course.

James approved it before I could object. “The Rossis have been business partners for for decades,” he said, as if that explained everything.

Now she floated through our home like she owned it—lounging by the pool in designer bikinis, hosting her parties in our wine cellar, always finding reasons to interrupt when James and I were alone.

Tonight, I caught them in the study, heads bent over some legal documents. Vicky’s long finger traced a line on the paper, lingering too close to James’ hand.

“Sophia!” She smiled when she noticed me. “We’re planning my new home theater. You should join us.”

“I have lab reports to grade,” I said, clutching my nightgown. We’re divorced now. Whatever James does. Whoever he’s with. It’s none of my business.

Vicky’s laugh tinkled like broken glass. “Always buried in your books! James used to do my math homework when we were kids – you tutored me yourself, didn’t you James? My math skills are all thanks to you.”

James chuckled lightly. “Math was simpler than laundering casino profits.” His eyes flicked briefly to me, a silent check for reaction.

I kept my face carefully blank, staring at my feet. How touching, their childhood bond still going strong after all these years. I’d just be here, counting the days until I could escape this charming reunion.

By midnight, I was reviewing lab data when James entered our bedroom. The scent of whiskey and Vicky’s cloying perfume clung to his shirt as he sat beside me on the bed.

“Still working?” His fingers brushed my shoulder.

I stiffened instinctively. Yet when his hand slid down my spine, I arched into his touch like a starving woman offered crumbs.

Pathetic, some rational part of my brain whispered. But four years of loneliness had carved a hollow space inside me that only James could temporarily fill, even if he’d never stay.

His lips found my neck as he unbuttoned the front of my nightgown. I closed my eyes and let myself forget—

—until my stomach turned violently.

“Sophia?” James froze as I clapped a hand over my mouth.

The queasy feeling disappeared as fast as it hit me. “Just…ate something odd at the lab today,” I offered weakly. The birth control pills I took religiously made pregnancy impossible, but my stomach seemed to rebel at the thought of Vicky sleeping right beneath us while James touched me.

Just then, a crash came from downstairs.

“James?” Vicky’s voice floated up the staircase, trembling. “I heard glass breaking… I think someone’s in the house.”

I felt James’ body tense. Duty called.

He was out of bed before I could speak, grabbing the pistol from his nightstand. “Stay here,” he ordered, already halfway to the door.

Turned out to be nothing—just the housekeeper dropping a plate. But when James returned hours later, he went straight to the shower without a word. I pretended to be asleep.

The next morning, I nearly choked on my coffee when I saw James flipping through my research institute application forms—the ones I’d stupidly left on the kitchen counter. My stomach tightened.

“Biomedical engineering?” He held up the application to the Swiss institute’s application, his brow arched. ” When did you arrange this overseas project?”

I forced a shrug. “My classmate asked me to grab the forms for her.” My fingers curled into my palms—out of sight, out of mind—but not before I caught the faint tremor in my pinky finger. Damn it.

James turned a page, scanning the details. “Zurich. You’d hate the snow.”

Of course he didn’t remember. Two winters ago, I’d dragged him to a cabin in Vermont just to watch the flakes fall. He’d spent the whole time on the phone with his lawyers.

I didn’t respond. Just look at him coldly.