Chapter 11:

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This man wasn’t just skilled; he was a master of his craft. His reflexes were razor-sharp, quick as a cat, and honed to perfection. It was obvious he’d been trained from the cradle—just like she had.

Reflexes like his weren’t just taught in a classroom or dojo; they were forged in the fires of life-or-death encounters—battles that tested your mettle and carved the survivor into something far more dangerous.

He was the kind of man who wouldn’t just fight until the bitter end; he’d drag you into the abyss with him. That sort of ruthlessness ran deep, like a stain that couldn’t be scrubbed out. You could see it in his eyes—he’d take his chances, even when the odds were stacked sky-high against him. The best way to deal with a man like that? Simple: avoid lighting the fuse. No sense in inviting more trouble than you can handle.

As these thoughts tumbled in her head, Allison’s phone buzzed like a swarm of angry bees. She ignored it at first, but it didn’t stop. Finally, she swiped the screen, and a flood of missed calls filled her notifications.

It was already 8:30.

She was supposed to meet Colton for the divorce!

Glancing down at herself, Allison let out a long, tired sigh. Her clothes were a wreck—buttons missing, fabric torn, like she’d been tossed around in a hurricane. If she walked out like this, people would think she’d just crawled out of a back-alley brawl. She rummaged through the closet, pulling on a clean shirt as quickly as possible. While dressing, she shot off a quick message to her friend.

“I’m fine, don’t worry. I’ll fill you in later.”

Before heading out, Allison paused at the edge of the bed, her eyes narrowing as they fell on the nightstand. She grabbed a sheet of paper and some cash, leaving it beneath the gun lying there.

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“Your performance was dreadful. Consider this your tip after a deduction.”

It wasn’t just the shredded clothes—he’d left her to pick up the pieces of a night she’d rather forget. Generous? Maybe. But that didn’t mean she had to be a fool.

As she headed out the door, Allison fixed her shirt and smoothed her hair, dialing the cruise manager with one hand. “Make sure all traces of my presence are wiped. Scrub the surveillance, too.”

“Understood, ma’am. We’ll take care of it,” came the respectful reply.

She sped to the courthouse like a bat out of hell, but by the time she screeched to a halt, she was already a good half-hour late.

Oddly enough, the sadness she had expected to feel on this day never came. After three long years of false hopes, it seemed the well had finally run dry. All that was left was a quiet emptiness—a hollow space where feelings used to be.

Colton stood outside, leaning against his car like a statue, glancing at his watch every few seconds. Melany was wrapped around his arm, whispering something into his ear, her eyes gleaming with doe-like adoration.

“Colton, don’t go against your grandfather’s wishes for me… Oh, there she is.”

The moment Colton saw Allison, his expression hardened like stone, his brow furrowing into an angry crease.

“If you’re thinking of dragging your feet or backing out at the last minute, don’t bother. I’ve made up my mind to marry Melany. Save yourself the trouble of playing games.” His voice was filled with impatience, as if he could already see through what he thought was her last-ditch ploy. “I told you yesterday,” he added, his tone cold, “not even tears will change my decision.”

Allison stepped out of her car just in time to catch his words. Her stomach churned from the lack of breakfast, but it wasn’t just hunger making her nauseous. She’d always known Colton was cold, but this… this was something else entirely. She looked him dead in the eye.

“I have no regrets. Not then, and certainly not now.”

The truth was, Allison had known for years that the man standing in front of her wasn’t the same boy who had once promised her the world. But she had clung to the hope—however foolishly—that maybe—just maybe—he would remember the past, that the boy he used to be would resurface.

But now, with the final curtain ready to fall, she could see it. Colton wasn’t just different; he was a stranger—someone she barely recognized, someone she no longer even liked.

With a calm that surprised even her, she said, “Instead of wasting time accusing me of playing games, how about we get this over with?”

Allison didn’t wait for a reply. She pulled out her documents, including the divorce papers, as she strode toward the courthouse doors, her face unreadable.

“I have no intention of dragging this out any longer, too,” Colton replied coldly.

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