I signed the divorce papers at noon and put the positive test in my purse. By evening, the most feared man in Chicago had it in his hand.

Within minutes he arrived at my door with tea and a few quiet words of reassurance that made the panic disappear.

We talked until morning, and during those hours, trust gradually developed without me even realizing it.

Later, after her mother and sister had visited her, her mother took me aside with a knowing look.

“Either you kiss him,” she said bluntly, “or you let the poor man suffer.”

I burst out laughing, but that night I didn’t back away when Ethan got too close.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the trial,” he admitted.

“It seems like a hasty decision,” I replied, my heart pounding.

“Probably,” he said softly.

Anyway, I kissed him.

It was a calm and reflective moment, without haste or surprises, and it felt like a conscious choice, not a sudden impulse.

Everything changed again when Ethan found Julian.

“He’s hiding nearby,” Ethan told me in a controlled voice.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“Answers,” he replied simply.

Before the situation could be resolved, Julian called.

He had kidnapped Rachel.

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