Chapter 3

Evelyn Carlson POV

I spent an entire week preparing the divorce papers.

As a former top surgeon, I understood better than anyone—the most successful operations are always the ones that are best prepared. The incision must be precise, the timing exact, every step calculated with an exit strategy in place.

I chose the day of our third wedding anniversary.

Ironic?

Perhaps.

But it was the only day Vincent Moreno wouldn’t be suspicious.

“Vincent,” I walked into his study, holding a leather document folder, “I have some papers that need your signature.”

He was dealing with some business matter and didn’t even look up. That face I had once thought impossibly handsome now looked cold and distant under the desk lamp.

“What papers?”

“Insurance updates for our anniversary,” I said, my voice so steady I surprised myself. “And some asset allocation adjustments. The lawyer says we both need to sign.”

Vincent finally glanced up at me.

That glance held the usual dismissiveness, the arrogance of a godfather—but not a shred of the attention a husband should give his wife.

“Leave them there.”

“I need you to sign them now,” I insisted. “The lawyer is picking them up tomorrow.”

He frowned slightly but took the folder from my hands.

I watched him flip to the first page.

His eyes scanned the paper quickly—too quickly. Far too quickly to actually read every word.

Because he didn’t care at all.

He only saw the “Spouse Signature” line and his name, picked up his pen, and with a flourish signed “Vincent Moreno.”

Just like that.

Three years of marriage, three years of sacrifice, three years of self-deception—

All ended with one careless signature.

“Anything else?” he asked, already pushing the folder back toward me, his head lowered again to his “real business.”

I looked at him, wanting to remember this moment.

Remember his coldness. Remember his arrogance. Remember how he couldn’t even spare three minutes to review a legal document.

“No,” I said. “Goodnight, Vincent.”

As I turned and left the study, my spine was perfectly straight.

The hallway was long. My heels clicked against the marble floor, each step echoing sharply. I counted them—one, two, three…

Only when I reached the bedroom and closed the door did I allow myself to slide down against it.

I looked down at the legally binding divorce agreement in the folder.

Vincent Moreno’s signature gleamed under the lamplight—bold and confident.

He didn’t even know what he had signed.

That was exactly how much I mattered to him—an existence not even worth the trouble of reading a document.

Tears finally welled up.

But this time, I didn’t let them fall.

I, Evelyn Carlson, had once fought death with a scalpel in my hand, had stood for countless fourteen-hour shifts through blood and tears.

I would not weep for a man who wasn’t worth it.

I wiped the dampness from the corners of my eyes, stood up, and walked to the vanity.

The woman in the mirror had a calm face, but deep in her eyes was something I had never seen before—

Resolve.

He was the one who signed.

But the one who leaves will be me.

From now on, my life, Evelyn Carlson’s life, will no longer be collateral damage in anyone’s power games.