Final Approach to Freedom

Chapter 3

"I know how to handle Sophia's situation," Alexander Hartley's voice was icy, yet his fingers traced over Sophia's photo with unsettling tenderness. "Anyone who dares touch her will answer to me."

Evelyn Montgomery stood outside the door, her nails digging into her palms. In three years of marriage, she had never seen Alexander like this—his dark eyes burning with quiet fury, his tone laced with menace.

The man who had always been as cold as a machine in bed now wore an expression she didn’t recognize—all for another woman.

She turned away, her heels sinking soundlessly into the plush carpet.

The divorce papers were still warm from the printer when she signed them, the ink bleeding into tiny swirls on the page.

Alexander didn’t come home for seven days.

Evelyn stared at her phone, her messages disappearing into silence. It wasn’t until late at night that she finally received a curt reply: [7 PM tomorrow. The usual place.]

She deliberately chose a seat by the window. The glass reflected her pale face and the table full of bland dishes she had ordered.

"Evelyn!" A bright voice shattered the quiet of the restaurant. Sophia walked in, clinging to Alexander’s arm, her pink dress flaring like a blooming rose.

Alexander’s gaze never left her. "The doctor cleared her to leave the hospital. Thought I’d treat her to a proper meal."

The waiter replaced the dishes with practiced silence. The red oil of the Buffalo wings glistened under the lights, and Evelyn’s stomach twisted.

"Alex knows me so well!" Sophia picked up a piece of Cajun seafood stew, the chopsticks dripping with spicy sauce. "He even remembered I hate cilantro."

Alexander wiped the oil from her lips with a familiarity that spoke of countless repetitions.

Evelyn’s fingers brushed against the folder in her bag. The sharp edge of the papers bit into her skin, but suddenly, the absurdity of the past three years became painfully clear.

"Let’s get a div—"

"Oh!" Sophia gasped, a shrimp slipping from her chopsticks onto Alexander’s plate. "This is amazing, you have to try it!"

Evelyn’s hand froze midair. She watched as Alexander—the man who was deathly allergic to shellfish—swallowed the shrimp without hesitation, his throat working smoothly.

The reflection in the window blurred. Outside, rain had begun to fall.