My husband threw divorce papers onto our marble table and told me his pregnant mistress and her baby were keeping my house. “At your age, you should be grateful someone put up with you,” he sneered. I signed the divorce papers, walked out without a fight, and canceled the money supporting his family. Three days later, he returned with his mistress—and froze when he saw what was waiting at the front door. / Chapter 9 / 20

Chapter 9 - The Stalker at the GateOn Saturday morning, I woke up in my own bed inside the Paradise Valley estate.

The morning sun filtered brightly through the master suite’s floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm golden glow across the white marble floors. The house was quiet, clean, and peaceful. I had spent the previous evening having the master bedroom carpets professionally steam-cleaned, the sheets replaced, and every trace of Trent’s presence purged from the house.

I made a fresh cup of espresso, walked out onto the back patio, and looked at the blue sky above the mountains. For the first time in five years, I felt a deep, profound sense of freedom.

Around 11:00 a.m., my phone buzzed on the patio table. It was a security alert from the estate’s smart gate system.

I pulled up the live camera feed on my tablet.

A battered taxicab was parked outside the iron gates. Standing directly in front of the intercom camera was Trent.

He looked terrible. His tailor-made suit was wrinkled and stained, his hair was unwashed, and deep dark circles hung beneath his bloodshot eyes. He didn't look like the arrogant man who had tossed divorce papers onto my table six days ago; he looked like a desperate, broken beggar.

He pressed the intercom button.

I tapped the microphone icon on my tablet. "Leave the premises, Trent, or security will have you arrested for criminal trespass."

"Harper! Please!" Trent’s voice crackled through the speaker, high-pitched and weeping. "Harper, hit the gate button! Please! I just need five minutes to talk to you!"

"We have nothing to talk about," I said coldly. "Your lawyer has the settlement papers."

"Harper, I'm sorry!" he sobbed into the camera, pressing his palms against the lens. "I made a terrible mistake! Brooke tricked me! She used me! She doesn't care about me, Harper! I don't love her! I love you!"

I listened to his desperate lies, feeling a wave of deep, icy disgust.

"You didn't care about love when you brought her into my house," I reminded him flatly. "You didn't care about love when you called me a bitter, cold robot. And you certainly didn't care about love when you stole half a million dollars from my company to buy rental houses for your parents."

"Harper, please!" Trent dropped to his knees on the concrete outside the iron gate, weeping hysterically into the speaker. "The FBI is going to arrest me! My mom is having a panic attack! They’re going to take everything from us! Please don't do this to me!"

"You did this to yourself, Trent," I said softly. "You thought my kindness was weakness. You thought because I didn't yell or scream, I would let you walk all over me. You were wrong."

"Harper! I'll do anything!" he screamed through the speaker. "I'll sign whatever you want! Just don't send me to prison!"