Chapter 4

The next morning, I left the house under a leaden gray sky.

The car radio was running international news—border conflict escalating somewhere overseas, a temporary camp attacked, communications down, casualties unknown.

The glass doors of the station slid open, and I walked in. The receptionist greeted me politely: "Mrs. Cross."

I nodded back.

Not for much longer.

The newsroom was chaos in motion. Screens scrolled with breaking footage while editors huddled in low, urgent conversations.

I headed for the executive producer's office.

Michael Black stood at the door, papers in hand, brow furrowed.

He spotted me and hesitated for a moment, then lowered his voice. "Evelyn. Good timing."

I looked up. "The border situation?"

He nodded. "Word just came down—they need an experienced war correspondent to embed. You used to—"

"I'll go."

Michael froze, then instinctively glanced toward the end of the hallway.

A row of founder portraits hung there. Nathan Cross's name gleamed on a brass plaque.

"You know... Nathan's the boss. Have you talked to him about this?"

"This is my job. My credentials qualify me." I kept my eyes on the paperwork in my hands.

Michael chose his words carefully. "That region is dangerous. Are you sure you want to go... right now?"

Of course I knew the danger.

I looked at him and smiled. "I'm filing for divorce, so you don't need to worry about Nathan's reaction."

He was quiet for two seconds, then nodded. "Alright. I'll submit your name. Fastest track. You leave in a week."

One week.

I repeated it in my mind.

In one week, I'd be out of here.

Away from Nathan. Away from Selena.

I signed. Fingerprinted. Handed over copies of my passport.

I moved fast, as if afraid I might change my mind.

When the paperwork was done, Michael gave me a few last reminders.

I listened while tucking the documents into my bag.

That's when Nathan came storming toward me. "Who approved this?"

"This isn't your call to make." I frowned at him.

Nathan fixed his eyes on me. "You have panic attacks and you want to go to a war zone? Have you lost your mind?"

"So you do know I have panic attacks. You do know how terrifying they are when they hit." I smiled faintly.

Nathan slammed his papers onto the desk. "Evelyn! This isn't the time to throw a tantrum."

"I've been perfectly calm," I said, meeting his gaze.

Anger flickered in his eyes. "Why didn't you discuss this with me? I'm your husband."

I almost laughed out loud.

Discuss?

"Did you discuss anything with me?" I asked. "The business trip? The vacation? Showing up in her videos? When did you ever discuss any of that with me?"

His expression darkened. "Let me explain."

He reached for my wrist.

I stepped back, avoiding his touch.

His hand hung frozen in midair.

"Nathan—" Selena's voice cut through.

We both turned.

She walked up between us, holding out a sheet of paper.

A pregnancy test result.

The room went dead silent.

Even the keyboards stopped clicking.

Nathan's face drained of color. He looked like someone had a hand around his throat; even his breathing faltered. "You... how is that possible? We only... it was just once."

"You said you'd take care of me." Selena's voice trembled. "You said you wouldn't leave me alone. You said you'd take responsibility."

She looked at Nathan.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she asked.

Nathan reached for the report, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not here... let's go somewhere else."

Selena didn't move. "You want to hide me away? Am I that shameful? Didn't you say I was your best friend?"

It was absurd.

She really was something.

She always knew exactly how to back someone into a corner.

Make him feel guilty. Make him panic. Make him choose her.

Nathan was spiraling.

"I was drunk that night. I don't remember anything. I—"

"Don't remember?" Selena lifted her chin, eyes brimming with wounded accusation. "Then what am I? What exactly am I to you?"

I didn't say another word. I grabbed my bag and walked away.

Nathan called after me: "Evelyn!"

Selena's sobs rose again, and Nathan's footsteps stopped. He didn't follow.

I walked out of the newsroom, into the elevator, and pressed the button for the parking garage.

The moment the doors closed, I finally let a flicker of emotion cross my face.

Good. This ridiculous drama had run its course.

I wasn't going to get tangled up between them anymore.

It was over.