From what I can see… prison. Fabricated evidence, regulatory sabotage—maybe even worse. I found burner messages.If she couldn’t get you to sign the divorce and stay away, they planned to destroy you.

She sold her wedding ring six months ago. A necklace too.

Looks like she’s been paying them to keep their hands off you.”

Grant stared at the marble wall, seeing nothing.

Miles spoke again, more gently. “Grant… she didn’t betray you.

She took the blow for you.”

For a moment, the only sound Grant heard was the restaurant beyond the hallway—the clink of glasses, laughter, the artificial brightness of normal life.

Then the past rearranged itself in his mind.

The way she avoided his eyes when she lied.

The tremor in her voice.

The way her hands shook—not with guilt, but fear.

He ran.

Bursting through the kitchen, he shoved open the back door and sprinted into the alley.

“Elena!”

She was still near the wall where he had left her, but one knee had given out.

Her hand pressed against her stomach, sweat shining on her forehead despite the cold night air.

By the time he reached her, she was sliding slowly down the brick.

“Hey—look at me.”

Her eyes opened weakly.

“My head,” she whispered. “I can’t… I can’t see right.”

Cold panic spread through him.

Severe headache.
Swelling.
Vision changes.

Danger.

He knelt in front of her. “How long has this been happening?”

“Doesn’t matter.”